by Laney Webber
***
Lee backed away from the car and right into one of the small maple trees that lined the upper driveway. She hung onto the tree and watched Jannika’s car until it rounded the curve in the driveway. Every part of her wanted to be with Jannika right now and help her sort out what was going on inside her. She wanted to hold her, let her vent, make her food, whatever she needed. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to end. She’d wanted to give Jannika this perfect day with her family. She’d wanted her to feel at home and welcome. Not this…whatever this was.
She walked to the gazebo on the back side of the main house. It was her favorite place to sit and think at night. When she was younger, she would sit on the floor, so no one from the main house could see her, but she could see the sky and the small lights coming from the houses down in the valley. Today she sat on one of the benches and just stared out.
Lee heard someone walking toward the gazebo, but she didn’t look up.
“Hey, sis. If you want to be alone, tell me, but I thought you might want company.”
“Hey, Bon-Bon. Not the way I thought this day was going to go.”
“She wasn’t sick, was she.” Bonnie sat on the bench next to Lee.
“Something about today scared her. She said she needs time to herself, that it’s not me, it’s her. She’s afraid our family is too good for her, that what’s happening with us is too good for her. Sounds to me like good-bye. Damn it, Bon, she’s…she’s…”
Bonnie put her arm around her shoulders. “What? She’s what, sweetie?”
“I love her. And that love broke through all the stuff I’ve built up after Shannon—it burst right through. The night I first saw her again, what were the chances of that? Of meeting her again after all these years? But what were the chances of someone killing my wife? Why bother loving someone? I feel like such a fool. One minute you think you have a life, a future with someone, and then it’s taken from you.” Tears ran down her face.
“No one plans to have someone taken from them like Shannon was taken from you, and no one plans for love to come along and grab you by the heart. You know that life can be painful, no one has to remind you of that, but I think you might need a reminder right now that life can be full of joy and love and hope. When you told me you met up with that girl from camp, the one you told me about all those years ago, I thought how unbelievable and wonderful that was. That was a gift you were both given. You can’t just ignore that or toss it away. I saw how she looked at you, how you looked at each other. You two are nuts for each other. All of us could see it.”
“But it’s not only up to me. What am I supposed to do, just wait?” Lee sniffed.
“I think you need to be gentle and patient with her right now. Like you said, something scared her. But if you give up on your relationship, and she hears that or sees that, you’ll have no chance at all. You need to hold the love and the hope for both of you right now. I know you can do that. If that’s what you want, I know you can.” Bonnie squeezed her shoulders.
Hope. Could she? For now, that was all she had.
Chapter Twenty-two
The car was silent as they left Rumford and headed west. As they drove through Bethel, Gunnie put a hand on Jannika’s shoulder.
“You need to eat and I could go for a snack. I saw how much food was on your plate at Lee’s. I think there’s a Chinese place somewhere here.” Gunnie leaned forward as she searched the storefronts. “There, on the right, see it?”
Jannika pulled into the parking lot. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m really not hungry. What do you want, Auntie?”
“Honey, right now I want to go back in time and stop you from leaving Lee’s Thanksgiving. But I can’t. All we can do is go forward. I don’t know how, right yet, but I know you’re upset and tired. Not a good combination for driving. Let’s eat, find a place to sleep tonight, and talk. Then be on the road bright and early.”
Jannika’s voice was as flat as the bottom of a pan. “What do you want to eat?”
“Chicken lo mein.” Gunnie looked out the passenger window. “Large, and some of that fried rice. And please get some extra napkins and forks.”
Jannika was in and out in fifteen minutes.
“I talked to a nice young man while you were in there, and I’ve found a place to stay up the road. We can eat and talk and get some rest. I don’t think we should be on the road after dark.” Gunnie looked over at Jannika.
“Fine, Auntie, show me how to get there.”
They checked in to the motel and got settled in the room. Once Aunt Gunnie started eating, she noticed her stomach felt empty too. They ate their Chinese food from the boxes in silence, passing the cartons back and forth across the tiny table.
Aunt Gunnie broke the silence with, “I’m so sorry about whatever has got you all balled up. Do you want to talk to me about what happened at Lee’s?”
“You saw her family. They were like a TV movie. I can’t be part of that. I don’t know how to be a part of that life.” Jannika walked over to one of the beds and sat on the edge.
“She’s got a friendly family. They all seem nice. But they’re people, honey, just like the rest of us. They have their troubles and their hurts too.”
“I never told you, but when Mama and I had our last big fight, when I left home, she told me that my father left because of me. That he wanted just her, and I was baggage.”
“Your mama has said a lot of downright mean things to people she loves. I don’t think she knows how to do anything else. She was hurt when your father left, but she fed that hurt every day of her life and of yours. She wouldn’t let it heal—she just picked and picked at that scab every single day. That’s not living a life. Some people spend a lot of time picking at scabs and making them bleed again. They can’t seem to get on with their own life.” Aunt Gunnie got up and sat down next to Jannika on the bed. “You never seemed to be the sort who wanted to keep picking at those scabs.”
“I did make a plan while I was at community college to leave and get away from her and the awful fighting,” Jannika said.
“Yes, you did. You got great grades, lined up that job, and applied to that school over in Portland. You did that all yourself. You worked at those bookstores and made a life, and then you came down here and you’re making a life here.” Aunt Gunnie patted her thigh.
“Well, you and Uncle Charlie helped me with the paperwork for school, but you’re right—I did all of that. But this is big, Auntie.”
“I can tell, honey.” Aunt Gunnie got up and grabbed two bottles of water from the take-out bag. She handed one to Jannika. “The lo mein always makes me thirsty.”
Jannika opened the bottle and took a long drink. “Thanks.”
“I saw the way you two are together. It made me happy to see you like that.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Jannika’s voice dropped.
“It’s your choice and nobody else’s. When that man left you and your mama, well, that’s part of your story, but it’s not your whole story. This isn’t about your mother or your father or even me and the choices we made in our lives. This is about you. You’ve been working on your life since you left your mama’s house. When you wanted something, you worked hard to make it happen. When things didn’t work out the way you wanted, you took care of it and found another way. I’m so proud of you.”
Tears filled Jannika’s eyes. She knew her aunt loved her dearly, but she didn’t know how closely she’d followed Jannika’s life and what she thought about it, until now. She put her arms around her aunt and hugged her. Her aunt patted her back, the same way she’d done as far back as Jannika could remember.
“Let’s shut those blinds. It’s getting dark out, and I don’t want all those people looking in here.”
She knew this was Aunt Gunnie’s way of ending their hug. She was probably the most touchy of all her relatives, but hugs had a time limit.
“Sure thing.” Jannika got up and closed the blinds
and paced the floor in front of the beds. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Yes, you do. I know you have feelings for this girl.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Are you going to pick scabs from the past and let that pain blind you to what’s right in front of you?”
“Whoa, Auntie.”
“I’m very serious.”
“I know you are,” Jannika said.
“Because I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Auntie. Sometimes I do let that pain get in my way.”
“Are you happy with Lee?” Aunt Gunnie asked.
She knew the answer to this question. “So happy. It seems so easy to be with her. Everything falls into place when we’re together.”
“If happiness is plopped into your life, what do you think you should do with it?”
Jannika looked away for a moment. She pictured her life with Lee and what that might look like. Then she pictured her life without Lee and what that looked like.
“Auntie, you’re right. This is no one’s choice but mine. But I need to take care of something that’s hanging over my head first. I haven’t called Joe yet about the store.”
“Why for heaven’s sake not?”
“I didn’t want to find out if the rumors were true. I know, don’t even say it. I’m going to call him first thing when I get back to the store tomorrow.”
Jannika’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. She picked it up. It was a text from Lee. You in for the night?
Jannika’s thumbs worked the phone. We’re at a motel in Bethel. We’ll go home in the morning. Thanks for checking in.
Lee texted back: I’m going home tomorrow and am available if you need or want anything.
Thanks. I know. I’ll call you.
Chapter Twenty-three
It was Black Friday and Jannika was only about ten minutes late opening the store. No one was waiting. Her emotions were a ball of tangled spaghetti, one strand wound around another and another. A mess. There was a note on the desk from Sarah. Please call the boss on his cellphone. He needs to talk with you. Very agitated energy.
She didn’t have time to call Joe Bosworth. Three customers came in the store. A short pudgy woman carrying a huge flowered tote bag sat down on the wooden chair next to Jannika’s desk and let out a long whistle.
“I’ve come from Connecticut,” she said.
“Oh, that’s a long drive,” Jannika replied. “How can I help you?”
“I read an article in the paper about how you can match people with books. Can you?” The woman fiddled with the handles of her tote bag and glanced around the store, but didn’t look at Jannika.
“I like to help people find books they’re looking for.” Jannika turned toward the back counter and flicked the stereo system on.
“Excuse me, helllooo,” the pudgy woman said. “All you types are the same. Airheads. Can you help me or what?”
“Can you come with me?” Jannika always led customers into an aisle where they could have a bit more privacy. Sometimes people would confess very interesting reasons for needing a particular book.
“Yeah, I guess so, whatever.” The woman and her tote bag followed Jannika down an aisle.
“Now, what can I help you with?” Jannika steadied herself and put one hand on a bookshelf. Her legs were rubber. She dreaded the phone call she needed to make to Joe Bosworth. She didn’t feel like helping this woman or anyone today.
“My life is…the same. Every day. Every week. Every month. The same. I don’t want it to be, but it is. I don’t know how to change that.” The woman spoke softly and finally looked up at Jannika. Her eyes weren’t the blank eyes of someone who was giving up hope. This woman’s eyes had fire behind them. Jannika continued to look into the woman’s face. Titles and phrases from books scrolled through Jannika’s mind. One title stood out. It was a risky one, but Jannika’s bookish intuition told her to go for it.
“Hmm, I know the book I want to show you. Let me see if we still have a copy.” She ran her finger along the spines of the books as she walked down the rest of the aisle, around the corner, and up the next aisle. Then her finger stopped on a title. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby.
“Here it is.” Jannika pulled the book off the shelf, gave it a little pat, and handed it to the woman who was right behind her.
“You must know every book in this store. I probably won’t like the book though. Let me see.” She reached out and grabbed the book from Jannika. Then she trudged over to one of the comfy chairs, sat down, and fished inside her bag. She took out a pair of reading glasses and opened the book to read the flyleaf. Then she flipped to the back flyleaf. Then she turned the book over and read the back cover. Then she looked up at Jannika.
“I don’t know. Can I start it here and if I don’t like it, can you find me another one?”
“Of course you can. There’s coffee up front—make yourself at home.”
Jannika was rescued by a voice that called out from the front of the store, “Can someone check us out?”
“I think we need to come back again,” a second voice said with a laugh, as Jannika made her way back to the front desk. A couple of college kids stood there, their arms filled with books.
Their laughter broke through Jannika’s shell of irritation and she laughed with them. Even on a bad day, this was all she ever wanted to do. She rang them up and put their books into a cardboard box. “Thanks.”
She felt the buzz of her phone in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a text from Lee.
A short woman with curly red hair and a camera over her shoulder came into the store and headed right for Jannika.
Am OK. Busy at store. Will call later. She returned Lee’s text with flying fingers.
“Hi,” the woman with the camera said, extending her hand. “Maggie Lyons from the Grangeton Times, and we were going to use you for this week’s person of the week?”
“Oh, hi. Sorry, I forgot you were coming. Do you mind working around customers?” Jannika took a deep breath and breathed in her store, the books, the stories. She closed her eyes.
“Um, Ms. Peterson? Did I come at a bad time?”
Jannika’s eyes flew open.
“No, no, sorry about that. I had a wild morning, and it might sound silly, but I was reconnecting with the store.”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m looking for.” Maggie retrieved a small tablet from her coat pocket and began thumb-typing.
“I’m honored to be the person of the week. I love reading that column every week. It’s helped me get to know people here in town.”
“I already have some background information that I got online, so I wanted to ask a few questions. Is it okay if I record this?” she said, tapping and swiping the screen of her tablet.
“Okay.” Jannika rubbed the back of her neck. She stood up and went to the end of an aisle. An interview was the very last thing she wanted to do this morning.
“You’ve been in town for over a year now, and I know the Concord Monitor did a short piece on you a few months ago, but I’m sure a lot of folks here didn’t see it. People want to know more about you.” The reporter asked Jannika the usual background questions about where she grew up, what brought her to town, and what she liked about working in Grangeton. Usually Jannika could rattle off the answers to those questions, but this morning each question brought up several other questions in Jannika’s mind about her future and what it might hold. Jannika answered with her mind spinning off in other directions.
Then the reporter said, “So, people say that you have a special way of matching up books with people. A couple of people in town I spoke with said they came in just to browse and you chatted with them, then put a book in their hands, and it was perfect for them. I won’t mention any names in the article, but one woman said the book you gave her helped her make the decision to go back to school. Another person said they reconnected with a sister they hadn’t spoken with for ye
ars after reading a book you gave them. And I’ve got at least ten more stories. The Pageturner has been here for eight years and it was just a used book store until you came to town. What would you call what you do?”
Jannika laughed. She didn’t think I’m really good at my job was the answer Maggie wanted to hear. Even though it was true. “I don’t think there’s a name for what I do. Some people have called me a bibliotherapist, but I have no special training. A friend of mine told me I have a bookish intuition when it comes to my customers. Maybe call it enhanced reader’s advisory?”
“What’s a bibilo…?”
“Bibliotherapist? That’s someone who’s trained to prescribe books. If you’re facing a career path choice or have had a recent life change like a divorce or giving birth, the bibliotherapist would recommend several books that might help you gain insight. But I’m not a bibiliotherapist. When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time at the library. The books were more than stories to me—they were my friends. My aunt, Gunnie Johnson, who lives here in town, was the first person to notice that I loved to recommend books to my friends. She’d bring me to the library when she came to visit, and she and the librarian noticed me giving other kids books. They called me the junior librarian, and I loved that.”
“Does your intuition serve you well in other areas of your life?”
“I wish it did. But it seems to be only with books,” Jannika replied. “Excuse me.”
A couple of customers had entered the store as they were talking. One was a regular, and he beelined to the sci-fi bookcase on the far wall. The other was a new customer who’d wandered around and was now walking toward Jannika’s big desk at the front of the store.
“Can I help you?” Jannika asked.
“I…haven’t been able to read for a while, and I want something that I don’t have to think about and maybe something, I don’t know, about recovery or grief or…I don’t know.”