Maybe younger men weren’t the only ones who were immature.
I let out a low, soft grunt, not liking the hard truths his presence in my life had brought out.
They were long overdue to be dealt with, though.
See?I could hear the eyebrow raise in that one word.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself. I knew my subconscious mind was right. It was the part of the human mind always on the ball.
Lips pressed tightly together, I vowed to listen to her a little more often.
Because there was one thing for certain: I didn’t want to end up alone. Watching Claire with Ozzie, lately, had made me face that fear head-on. And if Luke was the man meant to keep me from aging by myself, I didn’t want to turn him away because of a past hurt.
“Be open-minded,” I muttered as we pulled into the library parking lot. “Just let things happen as they’re supposed to.”
Peptalk over, I turned into a space beside Luke’s truck and shut off the engine.
Climbing out, I met him in front of the vehicles, and we went inside.
“Reference is this way.” He gestured toward a desk off to the side.
“Do you know how to use a microfiche machine?” I murmured as we approached the desk. “Because I haven’t used one since grade school.”
He tossed a quick grin at me. “I’ve never used one. But that’s what the librarians are for.”
“How have you never used one? You work for a construction company. Don’t you have to… I don’t know… search databases and such?”
“Yes, but usually just property and permitting records. That’s all digital.”
We stopped in front of the desk, where a middle-aged gentleman sat. His thin, mousy brown hair was a bit mussed, and thick gray glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
He greeted us with a kind smile. “Hello. How can I help you folks?”
“We’d like to look at some of your microfiche newspapers,” Luke said.
“All right.” The man pushed away from the desk. “Have you searched the catalogue yet?”
“No. We weren’t sure where to start.”
“Come this way.” The man motioned us to follow him and led us to a computer along one wall. “All our microfiche is catalogued in various ways on here.” He tipped a finger toward the monitor. “Do you know what newspaper and what edition you’re looking for?”
Luke and I shared a look.
I lifted a shoulder. “Sort of? We have a list of names and dates.” I reached into my purse and removed the folded-up sheet of paper.
“That’s more than what some people come with.” The man held up a hand. “May I?”
I handed him the list. “Please.”
Taking it, he unfolded it and sat down. “I’ll get you started, so you know how to use the database.” He typed the first name into the search bar.
A list of results popped up. Withdrawing a pen from his shirt pocket, he wrote down the catalogue number for the first couple of listings, where the name appeared exact. “We can search by date as well, if you want?”
I glanced at Luke, and by some silent communication, we both agreed not to do that. He shook his head, and I turned to the librarian.
“For that name, I think we’re good,” I said.
The man nodded. “All right.” Leaving the paper on the desk, he got up. “I will leave you to it. When you finish your search, bring me the catalogue numbers and I’ll fetch the microfiche rolls for you. I will also tell you I don’t think you’ll get through all the rolls tonight before we close. That’s a lot of names.”
