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Janet
With a sigh, I cross my quiet little library and stop in the romance section. Who would have thought that being a librarian would be so lonely? When I took this job, I had visions of children’s story hours and senior book clubs like in the library where I grew up. But not in this tiny town. It’s just me and Page, the scruffy cat I found under the front porch last week. And since they gave me a basement apartment under the renovated library, I hardly ever have to leave work.
“I like to think of it as getting paid to exercise,” I tell the black ball of fur. I do a few lunges to prove my point, and Page attacks my shoelaces, getting a workout of his own.
“I know what you're going to say, Page. One…” I count as I switch to squats and pitch my voice low, like what I imagine Page's would be if he could talk. “You should be recommending books to patrons and reading to little kids, Janet.”
Dropping into another squat, I raise my voice an octave. “Two. And you'd be right. This is definitely not how I envisioned my librarian career would go. But at least I have plenty of free time… Three! And I get paid to read and work out.”
I switch to pushups.
“Not that I get paid that much—one.” I grunt. “But I get to live here rent-free—two—and in a year, I’ll have saved up enough to go to Paris. Three. It’s been my dream since I was little. Four. And I have you, Page. Five.” Though I can’t help silently wishing for someone human to share my life with.
I get to my feet, workout complete. What? I may not be athletic, but I make up for it with my knowledge of literature. Not that I get to use it all that often.
“I wonder if anyone will come in today.” I scoop up the cat and head towards the large front window. It overlooks the wide fields that spread around the library. Sometimes, it feels like I'm the only person out here in the middle of nowhere. It's no wonder the library rarely gets any patrons.
“Between you and me, I think my trial of opening the library at 5 a.m. isn’t going to work out,” I tell Page. “I’ve been doing it for a month now, and so far, no one has taken advantage of the early hours. Maybe I should start a book club again. I know it was just me, but it’s been a few months, and things change.” Except maybe not out here…
For a split second, I see myself with my back stooped, and my hair gray, still stuck in this little library, living this half-life and reminding myself I should be grateful that I have a steady income and a roof over my head.
I stare out into the night. The full moon illuminates the empty roads, and I can just make out the abandoned old mansion at the edge of town. It’s rumored to be haunted, but I’ve never believed such tales. Supernatural things only exist in books.
I scratch Page behind the ear and head back to the romance section. “Other people may not read library books anymore, but I do. What do you think? Paranormal or classic?”
Page lets out an adorable little meow.
“Classic it is. I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll get you some cat food. You're all skin and bones, my friend, but we're going to fix that. I've got a yummy can of tuna-flavored—”
Page yowls and jumps out of my arms, then races toward the stairs that lead to our basement apartment. His little claws click on the hardwood, a reminder that he's owed a post-breakfast claw trimming. I'm not sure if we’ve reached the kitty manicure stage in our seven-day relationship, but I might as well find out. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, or anyone better to do it with.
I peruse the shelf of classics. It’s filled with paperbacks, interspersed with donated, hand-bound, brown leather tomes that have gorgeous, gold-embossed writing on their spines. I have no idea where those donations come from, but each month, someone leaves a book or two on the library’s front steps. We just got Pride and Prejudice this week, and I decide to re-read the old favorite.
Reaching out, I touch the spine, but before I can pull the book off the shelf, it glows with a strange purple light.
“I’m hallucinating,” I mutter, knowing full well that Page is out of earshot, and I’m basically talking to myself at this point. “This is not happening. Books don’t glow. Maybe I fell asleep reading, and this is all just a weird dream.”
I blink and get sucked into a whirlpool of light. It yanks me straight into the bookshelf and spits me out in front of the so-called haunted mansion at the edge of town, the closest building to my little library. The dark building looms over me with its Victorian architecture and empty windows. Around me, there are surprisingly well-groomed rose bushes, and they smell wonderful—their floral fragrance is strong and robust in the night air. I guess I always thought this place was abandoned, but clearly someone tends to it.
“I’m definitely dreaming,” I mutter under my breath. But if this is a dream, then why do I feel the cold wind on my bare arms? And why is my stomach roiling like I’m about to throw up?
“Everything's going to be fine. I’m okay,” I mutter, turning away from the not-so-creepy mansion. “I’ll just walk back to the library. Yup, that’s exactly what I’ll do. And then I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
“None of what ever happened?” a deep voice says from behind me.
I startle and spin around to face the man who somehow materialized on the mansion’s front porch. A porch that looks like it was recently renovated, I might add.
“Did you touch a glowing book, too?” I ask, because he definitely wasn’t there a few seconds ago.
“No?” It sounds like more of a question, and his eyebrows knit in adorable confusion.
Tall, dark, and handsome… and in a tailored black suit, he looks like he could have stepped out of one of my favorite classic reads. His piercing gaze and angular jaw do something funny to my insides, and I let my eyes fall, taking in the muscular frame evident even beneath his clothes. I have a sudden urge to fan myself. Is he a Heathcliff or a Mr. Darcy, though?
I shake myself. He completely contrasts with my own outfit—sweatpants and a t-shirt that says 'I like big books and I cannot lie.'
He looks me over, his eyes glinting with amusement. His lips curve up slightly in a small smile, as if he's laughing at me.
“What? I was exercising at the library,” I tell him, pointing at my shirt. “It’s my favorite workout shirt. And it is a whole lot less weird than walking around in a suit at this time of the morning.”
