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And that was just as well.
That’s what she told herself anyway, trying to ignore the idea that the job in front of her seemed like it was going to last forever.
Chapter 9
In all of the 41 years we were married before my husband passed away, we never had a single fight. - Karen Proctor, North Carolina
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Three weeks went bypretty much the same.
Bryce made Peyton a sandwich around nine o’clock that first Friday, not because he was a nice person or anything, but because he was making himself one and had some meat and bread left over.
Right.
He was totally kidding himself.
There’d been something compelling about the woman. A calmness or peace which seemed to emanate off of her. Something he hadn’t found in too many people.
Sometimes an older person might have the aura she did.
But he’d never been attracted to anyone like that.
Curious might be more like it. She was serious about her job but obviously loved books and admired the library, as most people would. But there was a quiet assurance about her, a feeling that she was rock solid, even though he also had the feeling that she had a deep sense of humor.
Whatever it was, when he made himself his nightly sandwich, he’d thrown one together for her and taken it in along with a drink. She’d been pretty much where he left her, and he hadn’t stayed long, even though he’d wanted to.
Each Friday was the same. Now that he knew approximately what time she was getting there, he watched for her and met her at the door.
He could have told her to just let herself in and go to the library, but...he wanted to see her.
Even if he was pretty sure she didn’t want to see him. Who would? With the scars that twisted his face and mocked him every morning in the mirror.
She hadn’t taken him up on his offer for her to come at a different time and to bring her son. He wondered why but didn’t ask. Didn’t really talk to her at all other than a few grunts of greeting.
He always waited to watch her leave from an upstairs window.
