He unfolded the paper, the looping cursive handwriting causing him to smile. Her handwriting was a bit like her personality, unreserved and cheerful. Sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, he settled in to read, a bubble of hopeful anticipation inside his chest.
Dear Levi,
Do you know that your letter is the first I’ve ever received? I mean, I get the ones addressed to Ms. Holt that go on to congratulate me on being preapproved for their credit card, but those don’t count.
Levi chuckled even as his heart swelled. Illogical pride pumped in his bloodstream at being a first in Hayley’s life. A first for anything—even something as simple as a personally penned letter—felt intimate somehow. Like it connected them in a way that was unique. She could never have that with another human being. It was something that now belonged only to him.
It probably sounds silly, but I always wanted a pen pal. My obsession with the idea of writing letters more than likely started after I readDaddy-Long-Legsby Jean Webster during one of my hospital stays. I wish I could say it was only thethought of having a special friendship at the other end of a postage stamp that intrigued me, but I refuse to be embarrassed to admit that I spent quite a bit of time daydreaming about my nonexistent pen pal falling hopelessly in love with me through our letter exchange.
Levi looked up from her hypnotizing handwriting and focused on the blank white wall in front of him, processing what he’d just read. His brain tripped over a phrase she’d so easily written, as if something so defining were as effortlessly communicated as sharing a favorite color or admitting you’d never tried guacamole.
One ofmy hospital stays.Just how many times had Hayley been admitted to the hospital in her life? What had caused her to be admitted? Was the medical condition no longer an issue, or was it something she still struggled with in adulthood?
His gaze whipped to the window as if he could see down to the garage and Hayley there. A protective surge rose within him, but he forced himself to stay where he was. His barreling in and acting like a brute wouldn’t serve any purpose besides assuaging his own concerns. Hayley certainly wouldn’t thank him for it.
You just saw her and she was fine, he reminded himself instead.
But what if she needs a hospitalagain? With the roads closed,there’s no way toget her to a doctor, his unhelpful brain picked at him.
He clenched his teeth. If it came to that, he’d move every single one of those boulders with his own bare hands.
He unlocked his jaw and forced his gaze back to the letter. She’d had a girlish fantasy about falling in love through written words exchanged with a stranger. He wasn’t a wealthy philanthropist fourteen years her senior paying for her college education, nor was she an orphan whose name had beenchosen for her from a gravestone, but they were near-strangers and he was more than capable of fulfilling a long-held desire of receiving letters.
He shouldn’t do it, try to make her fall in love with him. It would be like catching a butterfly and keeping it in a glass jar when it was made to fly and share its beauty with the rest of the world. It would be selfish of him, wanting to keep her all to himself.
But how could he let her go when she was the only one who had ever silenced the noise in his head? When she seemed to be able to read him as easily as her favorite book while everyone else had only ever looked at him like he’d been written in a language they couldn’t decipher? It would be selfish, but he was okay with a little villainy if it meant he wouldn’t have to say good-bye.
Levi read the rest of Hayley’s letter. She went on to talk about how her love of books sparked in her the desire to become a librarian, especially once her parents had told her they could no longer afford to constantly buy her new books. After that, she’d walk to the library at least once a week on her way home from school, collecting book boyfriends like Jesse Tuck, Gilbert Blythe, and Prince Kai.
Levi wasn’t sure how he could compete with those fictional heroes, but he could find pen and paper and craft letters that he hoped would start to make the earth beneath her feet crumble until she found herself falling as hard and as fast as he was.
15
Ihate to admit it, but Mayor Breckenbridge had done good. Maybe I should take back my curse on him.
Mrs. Fieldman looks behind her when she reaches the bay doors and gives me a little wave with the hand not clutching the first two books of the LunarChroniclesseries. I smile and wave back, dropping my hand once she’s rounded the corner and is out of sight. The diner owner is the last patron on a rather successful series of days.
I don’t know if it’s the novelty—the bookmobile’s maiden voyage and all—or the fact that everyone is stuck in Turkey Grove at the moment, or if the residents here have been waiting for library services to be a possibility in their lives all this time.
Whatever the reason, I’d call the last week a triumph. Not only have I been able to help people sign up for library cards, check out books for them, and show the new patrons how to work the library’s webpage in order to put holds on other titles they’d like me to bring next time, but I was also able to lend a hand to Jack’s nephew in filling out his FAFSA application, then point him to an ACT study guide. I’d also overheard Jack talking to Levi about a small business meeting they were planning to have. I’d then been able to pull Jack aside and showhim the research tool that allowed patrons access to databases with industry-specific information curated for businesses and entrepreneurs.
All in all, I couldn’t imagine things having gone any better. Levi had been gracious to allow me to use his garage in the afternoons to open up the bookmobile. We’d developed a sort of rhythm that seemed to work well. He never stuck around too long after his neighbors started showing up, but he didn’t act put out either. Assured me he was staying busy getting ready for winter. I still felt a little bad, but seeing all the good the bookmobile was doing for the people of Turkey Grove assuaged most of my guilt.
I dig my thumbs into the muscles on either side of my spine, then arch my back. Even though this week has been good, it’s also been long. I’m ready to lock up and call it quits for the evening.
I finish putting everything in the bookmobile away and turn off the tablet, though I plan to bring the device with me. Signal is spotty, but Jack was right that the General Store parking lot is one of the more consistent places with a strong signal. Because of that, I’ve been setting up there in the mornings, creating a Wi-Fi hotspot for anyone needing to use the internet. One thing I’ll talk to Mayor Breckenbridge about when I get back is investing in satellite internet for Cletus. Leveling the playing field, bridging the gap, and building community hubs are all values that libraries stand for, and we can’t do that successfully without connectivity.
Double-checking that I have everything, I shut Cletus up for the night, then engage the deadlock on the office door. My shoes make soft slapping noises on the hard concrete beneath my feet, echoing in the large space. The sun has dipped behind the tops of the trees, casting long shadows across the parking area. I push the button on the wall to lower the sectional garage door, the gears and moving metal clattering inthe otherwise quiet country air. With a thud, the door finishes its descent and I secure the padlock.
“Meow.”
The pathetic cry comes from somewhere behind me. I think of Anna Leigh traipsing all over the woods looking for Jolene. What’s with everyone’s pets running away lately? I look up the mountain to Levi’s house longingly but turn on my heel with a sigh. Someone is probably worried about their lost kitty right now. No matter how much I want to get up that mountain, I can’t let a pet spend the night out in the cold.
“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” I call.
Another plaintiff meow rips into the air, followed by two more. Three missing cats? Oh dear. I hunch down and search the bushes alongside Levi’s building.
“Meow.”
