Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Evanthe Kilburn
“Where better to find magic than in the pages of a book?”
Juliet
Sunlight drenched the library, filling it with brightness and a sense of happiness.
The moment Mary Joy and I had come inside, Tallulah came rushing around the front desk. She was now holding the baby and was giving her a good once-over. She lifted her arms, inspected her thighs. The hives on her neck were fading, barely visible now.
“I just got off the phone with Dr. Brown. He said to give her an antihistamine if she’s still showing symptoms and recommended a specialist for allergy testing. He also warned me that it could take months to get an appointment. Months!”
I wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear that. Specialist appointments were often booked well in advance.
“I hate thinking that I was feeding her something that was making her sick,” she added, hugging Mary Joy so tightly the baby fussed.
“You didn’t know. And we don’t even know if it is an egg allergy. It’s just a suspicion.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? Some of her fussiest times lately were after she’d eaten food with eggs in it, like fettucine and pancakes. Today was the first time she had eggs on their own, and look what happened.”
I nodded. “I’m glad she’ll be getting tested.”
“Me, too,” she said, looking at her daughter, “but no eggs for you in the meantime. I’d rather be safe than sorry.
” She glanced at me. “I did a quick search after you called. I can’t believe how many things have eggs.
Bread, mayonnaise, cookies, salad dressings, marshmallow!
I’m so glad she didn’t have any of Katy’s birthday cake. ”
Tallulah’s insistence that Mary Joy not have sweets until she was older might have protected her from a potentially terrible reaction.
“Thanks for bringing her in,” she said. “I just—”
I smiled. “I know.” Then I looked over my shoulder, at the children’s section. “I promised Katy I’d bring her a few books.”
“Anything with a touch of magic in them will be a big hit. Fantasy titles, especially. Fables. Mythical creatures. Actually, any animal”—she shuddered—“even snakes.”
I shuddered along with her, then motioned toward Mary Joy, knowing how Tallulah’s boss felt about the little ones being at work. “Do you want me to take her?”
“Not yet.” Then she dropped her voice. “Evanthe’s in a meeting. She’ll never know.”
“I’ll hurry,” I said, already walking away.
The library was busier than I’d ever seen it.
People milled about, browsing. Several people were cozied up in the reading area.
Someone was sleeping at a desk near the window, their head resting on an open book.
Two teens were parked at the computers, earbuds in, tapping away.
The muffled voices of small children vibrated in the air.
Some sort of craft activity was taking place in the community room.
The children’s section was quiet, probably due to the crafting going on. A woman sat with a young girl near the window, reading a book, but otherwise, I had the area to myself. As I scanned titles, I couldn’t help feeling like someone was watching me.
I turned around and saw Deckle sitting on a shelf, his tail swaying. He was wearing a new pink collar. His name tag dangled, sparkling in the sunlight.
“Well, hello there.”
I thought about what I’d learned of the town, its history, and couldn’t help looking at him in a whole new way. It was quite the legacy he was shouldering.
I scratched behind his ears. “I like your new collar.”
Purrs vibrated against my fingers.
I was still petting him when he suddenly reached out a paw and knocked a book off the shelf. It happened so fast I could hardly believe my eyes.
Yet there was a book at my feet, face down.
I swallowed hard. Deckle bumped my hand with his head and blinked, his golden eyes shimmering.
I knew what I was supposed to do, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it.
And just then, I heard the tweet of a robin. Puzzled, I glanced around. The young girl near the window had a stuffed robin in her hand. When she squeezed it, it chirped, making my heart beat faster.
I thought of the robin that had been traveling with me, the feathers it had been giving me, and the dreams of my grandfather.
If the book contained another memory of him, didn’t I want that?
Didn’t I want that more than anything?
As I touched the scar at my neck, I glanced at Deckle and kept hearing in my head how it was a gift to have a book chosen by him.
“All right,” I said quietly, bending down to pick up the book.
As I straightened, I flipped the book over to see the cover.
The Lightning Thief.
I narrowed my gaze at Deckle. “Seriously?”
His whiskers twitched and his tail swished.
“Fine,” I said.
Unsure what I was getting myself into, I took a deep breath and let the book fall open, the pages fluttering gracefully. When they settled, I skimmed a few lines of text. In the chapter, one of the characters was dreaming about a storm. There were flashes of light. Thunder.
I broke out in a sweat.
Deckle took a step closer to me. His fur brushed my elbow.
I took it as encouragement.
My hands were shaking as I slowly lifted the book to my nose, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply, my nose tingling with the scent of paper and ink.
In a blink, images came. They flew in quick as hummingbirds, one after another, so fast they blurred together.
Then they slowed, and I saw my grandfather and me walking side by side.
I recognized his blue spring coat, my green jacket. His gray flat cap, my ball cap, my ponytail pulled through the hole at the back.
Hats that would be blasted off our heads only moments later.
“I don’t like the look of that sky,” I said, eyeing the dark clouds that had blocked out all sunshine.
He glanced upward. “There was no rain in the forecast.”
That was true. Only a few minutes before, the skies had been blue.
His eyes twinkled, the pale green glittering in the gloomy light, as he added, “Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone, Jules.”
As if the heavens agreed with him, the clouds suddenly burst open and rain poured down.
He started laughing, his face tipped toward the sky. Then he started dancing, a pretend partner in his arms as he turned in a slow circle. “Isn’t it glorious, sweetheart?”
As I put my hood up over my hat, I couldn’t resist smiling. His joy was endearing, radiant. He’d always loved dancing in the rain.
He did a little shuffle toward me and held out his hand. “Care to join me?”
I figured why not—I was already soaked. I slipped my hand into his, felt his fingers fold over mine, lovingly, protectively, just like they’d been doing my whole life long.
We laughed together as he twirled me, round and round, right up until the air crackled and a luminous bolt split the sky.
The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital.
Now, here at the Forget-Me-Not Library, I remembered everything.
My eyes flew open.
Woozy, I sat down, propping myself against the bookshelf. I was having trouble pulling in enough air, and I forced myself to take even breaths.
Deckle hopped down from the shelf and climbed into my lap. He put his paws on my chest and lay down.
“I remember,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
My whole body trembled.
Because I remembered everything.
Not just my grandfather, but my childhood, too. The images that had zipped by were now clear as day. Holidays and school days and every day in between. My sister, my brothers, my parents. Old memories that I thought had been lost forever were all there, waiting for me to sift through.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and my breath hitched. In my head, I could hear my grandfather’s laughter, and I thought it might be the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. His last moments had been happy ones. Glorious, even.
It was a small consolation in the greater whole.
He was still gone.
But maybe, just maybe, there had been nothing I could’ve done to prevent it.
The storm hadn’t been predicted and had popped up so fast.
It had been a freak accident. That was all.
A tragedy where there was no one to blame.
It was hard to understand, harder to accept. Nearly impossible. But I had to try.
When I heard nearby voices, I wiped my eyes and then wrapped my arms around Deckle, pretty much using him as fluffy armor. When two women rounded the corner, I thought I might be seeing things. Straight up hallucinating.
But then my sister said, “Shut. Up. There is a cat!”
And my mom said, “Juliet! What’s wrong, baby?”
I couldn’t answer because I had burst into tears.