2
Lightning Strike
Nate
The front door shut behind me just as my phone vibrated from my pocket. Thinking of Elle, a feeling of excitement flooded me for a moment. That was crazy. I’d just met the woman and made the rookie mistake of not exchanging numbers. Maybe she’d actually follow through and I’d see her at the library soon. One could only hope.
I slid my phone out and made my way to my couch, dropping into it as I glanced down. The text message greeting me was from Chris, a former colleague at CPL, Chicago Public Library.
Chris:I’m considering filing a missing person’s report. Where the hell are you?
Me:Sorry. Didn’t mean to drop off. You know how it can be in a new job.
Chris:What can possibly be so stressful down in southern Illinois? Someone’s cow get loose?
Me:One, it’s central Illinois and you know it. Southern Illinois doesn’t begin until you hit the cross in Effingham. Two, yes. The Lietzes’ cows did get loose last week. How’d you know? School buses rerouted and everything. Want to come down and help with traffic?
Chris:Jesus, who are you and what are you doing down there? We’re all headed to Kasey’s tonight. You should come back up and visit. You’re missed.
I sank back in the couch, staring across the room as memories flitted through my mind. Months ago we would have headed to Kasey’s Tavern after work. Danny would slide beers toward us across the bar, and the weight of the day would disappear. After a few, we might have gone for pizza or maybe a burger at Au Cheval. Our Chicago nights had been filled with laughter and colleagues that had become friends.
And I’d left it all behind.
Vibrations from my phone caused me to look down once again.
Chris:Giving you shit, man. You know that, right?
I shook my head and picked up my phone.
Me:Yep, asshole. Kidding, kidding. Have a great time. We’ll have to get together after the holiday.
I watched to see if Chris would text again. Nothing. I sighed as I pulled myself up and headed through the living room to my bedroom, where the night stretched ahead of me.
My house had been my grandparents’ place for as long as I could remember. When they left it to me after they passed, I’d been grateful. This place was a clear example of how lucky I was to grow up in the family I did. I didn’t have siblings or cousins, but I had my parents and my grandparents. We were a close-knit group, and this was where we’d celebrated everything.
I loved Chicago. I made a hell of a lot more money up there, though it didn’t go as far. But after the lawyer called to let me know that I’d been left this house, well, I felt like I’d been called home.
And I didn’t regret it, I really didn’t. I’d always loved Highland. I loved this place. My parents were closer here than they were to Chicago. Life was good.
If I was a little nervous, it wasn’t that I thought I’d made the wrong choice by leaving it all behind. The library I’d moved to was great. The staff was a riot and made work fun. I wished I felt a bit more job security; it was such a small staff. And maybe once I sold my condo in a few months, my budget would breathe easier.
But it was all good.
As long as I ignored the feelings of something missing.
* * *
Tuesday morning dawned and I headed to work, listening to music in my headphones as I walked down the street. It was fascinating to think of the complete switch in my life in a few short months. In Chicago, I’d gotten to work via public transportation and walking. You walked fast and focused, not stopping to look around, but you got where you were going.
Here? I might not even pass a person—walking or driving—on the way to work. It was quiet, peaceful.
If anyone was on their porch, they’d say hello or wave. Heck, people might come out and talk to me, ask how my day was. Luckily it wasn’t a complete culture shock, since I’d spent a lot of summers here, but it had been something to adjust to once again.
Jogging up the steps into the library, I breezed in the door to see Emma and Gabby, both at the circulation desk at the front of the house. I didn’t know the Ryan sisters who’d left their home to the town for use as the library—they passed long before I was in this world—but I appreciated their gift to Highland. This library was unique and homey. In other words, perfect.
“It’s about time,” Gabby complained.
I stopped and gave her a look. Gabby was one of my favorite coworkers and had zero filter, which made for interesting days. But I had no idea where she was going with this.
