AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Molly
Ienjoy the satisfying clunk of the turning key as I lock the library door. I always do. Sighing happily, I look straight up to admire the blissful clear indigo sky above that holds me still for one more moment before I begin my walk home. It’s not cold enough to see my breath in clouds, but it soon will be. The winter sun tricks you into believing there is warmth attached to its pinkish glow as it disappears behind a tangle of ancient dark branches in the park.
I cross the formal gardens on the quaint main square of Oak River, which is edged with grand civic buildings: far too grand for the size of the town. Rose bushes are arranged in regular rows on either side of the path. They are brown and dormant now, although tiny buds promise an outstanding display come late springtime. Ah, spring. My favorite time of year.
Friendly folk wish me a good evening and I smile right back as I pass. Traffic is minimal. A bus slows to a stop and picks up passengers before moving on. The town hall clock chimes six.
Away from the town center, pastel-colored colonial buildings give way to modern blocks and industrial showrooms. But we townsfolk ignore the less-than-pretty architecture, choosing instead to focus on the heritage of painted weatherboard and lead-light window details surrounding decorative doorways.
Visitors come to Oak River for a taste of a bygone era: swings on front porches and mom & pop stores with names such as ‘Paxton’s Groceries’, which has been a town business for a couple of hundred years at least; or ‘Aunt Betty’s Bakery’, a relatively new addition but cleverly designed to look Ye Olde Worlde.
Some people may point an accusing finger and belittle our efforts to uphold tradition and celebrate our slice of history, saying that by fossilizing the past we are somehow Disneyfying our town: making the lives of the great names that created it into a theme park.
Well, they could be right. The small colonial town’s charm is on full display as warm, golden light pours from the windows of the shops and cozy homes lining the streets leading off the main square. Oak River is a very pretty and pleasant place to live and as librarian at Oak River Public Library, I take immense pride in local people and their stories. Yes, I’m a history geek. And a self-confessed bookworm, so librarian in a quaint historic town is the dream job for me. No doubt about that. Not only do I get access to the most comprehensive book and magazine collection outside of Richmond, I get to immerse myself in cataloging cuttings, photos, and newspaper articles that are gifted on a regular basis, as well as the absolute joy of curating delightful experiences for our library patrons.
With Christmas and New Year decorations safely stashed away in the carefully labeled boxes, the next highlight of the library’s calendar is Valentine’s Day. It’s not my favorite celebration. I’m resigned to being single, knowing that a happy-ever-after is a thing of fiction and only happens in books and fairy tales. But I enjoy the uptick in reader numbers in February, especially in the section. And it’s not only women who get bitten by the Love Bug.
Pink-eared teenagers sneak out a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover disguised in a stack of Marvel comics. Middle-aged married men regularly ask for “something about Mars and Venus” at this time of year, and follow up their request with, “My wife thinks I should read it, so…” I’ll point them in the direction of self-help/marriage guidance then, at the counter add a copy of Pride and Prejudice, telling them to pay special attention to Mr Darcy, which causes lines of confusion on the forehead of the recipients as they process my recommendation.
Even Reverand Manvers checks out the latest in romantic comedy at this time of year, as the “themes are enlightening” and apart from the obvious entertainment value, the esteemed gentleman says the narratives give him insight into issues couples face in these testing times. And by reading romantic fiction, he can better identify and help solve problems in the community. I nod and smile and don’t believe a word of what he is telling me. The good Reverand just enjoys a well-written romcom. No harm in that.
I visualize the Valentine’s Day display, that I’ll begin tomorrow, as I turn down the street towards the river that gives Oak River its name, although the river has shrunk to little more than a stream, which is audible yet unseen. I inhale the gentle crisp air, breathing deeply, appreciating the stillness. No one else is around. Just me, which isn’t unusual. One or two cars pass me with headlights on, although I’m not really paying attention. On one side is the river and on the other is a stretch of semi-industrial blocks and business forecourts: Yate’s Builder’s Supply Store, next door to Oak River Garden Center, and then Westie’s Quality Motors a little further on.
As I pass the locked-up car yard, my thoughts of red shiny paper hearts and flowers are stamped out by bright orange flickering. Flames. A fire. My heart jumps into my throat. I fumble for my phone.
“Emergency services, what’s your emergency?” The woman operator’s voice is calm, almost casual, on the other end.
“Um, hi, yes, fire. There’s a fire at Westie’s Quality Motors on River Road,” I say as steadily as I can.
The operator asks me for my name and number and my precise location. “Thank you, we’re dispatching units to the location immediately.”
My pulse races as I watch the flames dance at the back of the forecourt between two cars advertised as Bargains of the Week. I’m not sure what I should be doing now. The emergency services have been alerted. I have done my concerned civic duty and reported the incident. It’s not a big fire and there’s no danger to the buildings. I call the number printed on the forecourt signage. The call clicks straight to voicemail, so I hang up. I can’t quite make out if the cars are going to catch fire and explode, but maybe that only happens in the movies. I should move along and stay out of the way of the trained professionals when they arrive. I’ll bet my collection of first editions that I won’t be any help at all to the town’s fire department. Hearing the sirens wail in the distance confirms my decision to continue my journey home.
A few feet further down the road, I’m still holding my phone, when it buzzes in my hand. I glance at the screen. It’s an unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Cam Wickham from the Oak River Fire Department,” a deep voice says. “Is this Molly Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Ryan, hi. You reported the fire, yes?
“That’s right. Not ten minutes ago.”
“Okay. Great. It’s just we’re here at Westie’s Quality Motors on River Road, but we can’t seem to locate any fire.”
“Excuse me?”
“Miss Ryan. Molly. Are you sure you saw one? A fire that is.”
“What?” I change the phone over to the other hand and reposition it as if the action is going to make more sense of what I’m hearing. “Of course, I’m sure!” I snap with an indignant laugh feeling my cheeks heat up. “The fire was at the back between the red station wagon and the white utility van both priced for a quick sale.”
There’s a moment of quiet on the phone and I sense that Cam Wickham is relaying my message to his crew, but possibly leaving out the bit about the bargain car prices.
“Alright, Miss,” he sighs. “I should warn you that an unwarranted emergency callout is a federal offense incurring a fine.”
