by Cathie Linz
“I was just trying to decide which one to read first,” she replied. Resting on Gaylynn’s lap was something old and something new. The something new was a book Hunter had given her; the something old was a book of Gypsy folk tales that her parents had read to her when she’d been growing up.
Gaylynn had asked her mom to send it down to her. She vividly remembered how her mother had faithfully kept to the lines of the storybook, while her father had always elaborated and made up his own version of the story as he went along.
Looking at the table of contents, Gaylynn recognized so many of her childhood favorites—”The Bottle of Brains” being one of them. But for this first session she read them “The Golden Pear” about a sick king and his four sons and a magical Gypsy who told them to search for the golden pear that would cure him.
The tale was a big hit. She followed that folk story with a Cherokee one—”Why the Possum’s Tail Is Bare”—from a book donated by Hunter, who had read the story to her the night before. Her attention wandered momentarily as she dreamily recalled how, after Hunter finished reading, they’d started “making out,” as he’d put it, in front of the fireplace at his cabin.
“Aren’t you gonna read?” one of the children asked her with another tug on her skirt.
“Right.” And so she started reading the story, which talked about the dangers of vanity. “In days almost forgotten, the Possum had a beautiful, bushy tail that he was so proud of he would comb it every morning and brag about it. So much so that The Rabbit, who had no tail since the Bear pulled it out, became very jealous. He made up his mind to play a trick on Possum.”
The story was short, just the right length for the group of six-year-olds’ attention span. They were all laughing by the time she’d finished up by saying, “And afterward Possum was so surprised and ashamed that he could not say a word. Instead, he rolled over helpless on the ground and grinned as Possum does to this day when surprised.”
After Gaylynn had checked out a book to each child, she put the records in the wooden box that had been in use since the library’s opening days. She’d already typed up eighteen library cards on the old Remington typewriter that was an antique and was missing the letter Z Luckily, no one had a Z in their name so she’d managed.
There was no money to buy new books, but the collection, especially the children’s books, seemed like a solid one. She added the idea of writing out a grant application to her increasing mental list of things to do.
Once the children were gone, Gaylynn was alone in the building—aside from Boone and Stella, who were totally engrossed in each other. Ma Battle had said she’d stop by later to talk about the possibility of holding a literacy class at the library. Gaylynn could talk to her then about applying for private foundation or government grant money to keep the library going.
When Gaylynn reached over for her childhood storybook, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Apparently, it had been stuck in the back of the book.
Picking it up, she read it. “Fear impoverishes, while the acceptance of sorrow can enrich.”
The powerful words hit home. It was a Rom saying—she didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. And it was certainly one that applied to her. When she’d fled from Chicago, she’d been emotionally impoverished by her fear.
The simple beauty and steadfast presence of the mountains had replenished her soul. Along with that had come gradual peace of mind, and a sad acceptance of Duane’s death without the horrible weight of guilt and responsibility Gaylynn had felt before.
“Fear impoverishes,” she whispered, tracing the words with her fingertips. How had this piece of paper gotten into the book?
Her fingers strayed from the paper to the ribboned medallion she’d taken to wearing every day. Her smile went from reflective to appreciative as she remembered gaining courage from the medallion to seduce Hunter. In the end, it had been unclear who had been the seducer and who seducee—instead, it had been a mutual expression of passion.
On Gaylynn’s part, it had also been an expression of love.
Her gaze strayed over to Boone and Stella, who were shelving books in the nonfiction section. Actually, there was more whispering than working going on.
“Boone Twitty, you get your sorry self out here!” Gaylynn heard Floyd shout so loudly that even Bo Regard, who was lying across the threshold, jerked and paid attention. In fact, the bloodhound hightailed it into the library and hid under a reading table!
Getting up, Gaylynn went to see what all the commotion was about. She didn’t have to wait long. Floyd came barreling into the building. Or at least he tried to. So did another man, younger but equally as broad in the beam as Floyd. The result being that both men bounced off the doorframe and had to start again. They ended up bursting into the room like a cork pulled from a bottle.
“Uh-oh, trouble’s a’brewin’,” Gaylynn murmured like a native.
Nine
“Get yer hands off my daughter!” Otis Rue bellowed. At least, Gaylynn assumed it was Otis Rue, Stella’s father, because although she’d only seen the man from a distance he was obviously glaring at his only daughter.
“It’s plain as the rings on a coon’s tail that yer daughter has her hands all over my grandson!” Floyd shouted at Otis.
A brief but fiery shouting match ensued.
Putting two fingers in her mouth, Gaylynn let out an ear-piercing whistle that she’d perfected over the years. It had always quieted a classroom full of even the most obstreperous fourth-graders on the first day of school. It had the same effect on the two grown men. Silence suddenly prevailed.
“Now everybody just calm down and tell me what all this mayhem is about,” Gaylynn ordered.
“It’s just another sign that those troublemaking Rues are up to no good,” Floyd declared.
“It’s the Montgomeries who are the troublemakers,” Otis flared.
“So this is a feud thing, huh?” Gaylynn said.
The two older men stared at her as if she’d grown two heads.
She stared right back. “Listen, you two, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’re rapidly approaching the twenty-first century here.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Floyd demanded.
Gaylynn wasn’t exactly sure, but it had gotten the two men to momentarily stop shouting at each other.
“It has a great deal to do with things,” she continued, momentarily stalling for time as she gathered her thoughts together. “The time has come for this ridiculous feud to stop.”
“Are you calling our feud ridiculous?” Otis demanded, his anger now extending to her.
Floyd looked at her with equal irritation. “Our feud is not ridiculous!”
“Okay, bad choice of words,” Gaylynn allowed. “But however you describe it, this feud between your two families has got to stop.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s hurting the very people you claim to be trying to protect. Stella and Boone.”
“You’ve only been in town a few weeks and now you’re claiming to be an expert on my grandson?” Floyd said. “When pigs fly!”
“Soaring swine is not the issue here,” Gaylynn stated in her best teacher’s voice. “Neither Stella nor Boone has done anything wrong.”
“Not in yer eyes maybe.”
“Do you both want to risk loosing the next generation?” Gaylynn demanded bluntly. “Is that what you want to happen here? Because it will. Boone and Stella can leave Lonesome Gap, like so many other young people have before them. They can move to Ashville or any number of other cities, and have another life there. Do you really want that? Don’t you think enough people have left Lonesome Gap? Isn’t it time you tried to make more people want to stay here rather than driving them away?”
Floyd and Otis both started shuffling their feet and Gaylynn knew she had them dead to rights.
“Listen, I know all about feuds,” she assured them. “Trust me, nobody feuds better than the Rom.”
“Don’t know them,” Floyd declared. “Are they from around these parts?”
“The Rom is another word for Gypsies and in my family’s case they’re from Hungary. Before you two men so rudely burst in here, I was reading some of their folk stories to the children earlier. There’s a folk story, if you will, my family tells about a feud between two rival Gypsy tribes and a charmed magical box that made the two youngest members of the tribe fall in love with each other. With their marriage, the feud ended.”
“Are you saying Boone and Stella aim on getting married?” Both men roared in unison.
“Yes!” Boone and Stella roared right back, speaking up for the first time.
The two older men were so surprised that their mouths dropped open.
“Now as Gaylynn here says, we can either stay here in town and share our lives with you, or we can leave and start a new life somewhere else. What’s it gonna be?” Boone demanded with newfound courage.
“Why…I…” Otis sputtered.
“Well…you.” Floyd stuttered.
“Congratulations, everyone!” Gaylynn said, hugging both now speechless men. “I think you made the right decision. I could tell you were both wise men the first time I met you.” She pumped each man’s hand in a hearty handshake. “Only wise men would be brave enough to set aside the dictates of the past and make their own decisions.”
“What in tarnation is she talking about?” Otis asked Floyd.
“Danged if I know. You know how these city folks are.”
“What’s going on in here?” Hunter demanded from the doorway. “I got a call saying there was a disturbance at the library.”
“Not a disturbance, an engagement,” Gaylynn announced.
“Yeah, Hunter,” Floyd said with a thump on Hunter’s back. “Congratulate us. It appears we just ended the feud.”
Only after they’d left—Floyd and Otis along with Boone and Stella—to head over to both Hazel’s Hash House and the Lonesome Café with the good news, did Gaylynn realize the personal importance of what had just happened. Despite all the shouting and anger, Gaylynn hadn’t panicked. She’d shouted right back, just like her old self. She felt so proud of herself she thought she’d burst!
“Care to explain what just went on in here?” Hunter inquired dryly.
“Magic.”
“That’s one way of putting it. I never thought the day would come when I’d see those two in the same room together without a shouting match.”
“Oh, there was a shouting match,” she acknowledged blithely. “I just made sure I won it.”
“And how did you do that?”
Lifting her chin, she said, “You forget, Hunter, I’m accustomed to dealing with obstreperous children.”
“Is that how you’d describe Floyd and Otis?”
“If the shoe fits.”
To her surprise, Hunter leaned over and kissed her. Each of his kisses was unique and this one was no exception. It fiercely expressed his pride and passion.
“What was that for?” she asked unsteadily.
“For being you.”
“Hunter, I can’t believe you’re being such a scaredycat about this!”
“All I said was are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Are you or are you not the man who asked me to cut his hair for him?”
“That was before I saw that gleam in your eyes when you have a pair of scissors in your hand.”
“I won’t cut off anything…necessary,” she said with a sassy grin and a naughty swipe at his lap.
Seconds later, after first making sure he placed the scissors safely on the table, he tumbled her into his lap to nuzzle her earlobe. “Yer gonna pay for that, woman!” he growled in his best mountain-man voice.
“I most certainly hope so,” she replied, her demure voice at odds with the sassy expectation of her smile.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“A little of this—” he nuzzled her neck with his lips “—a lot of that.” He slid his hand up her bare leg. The cutoffs she was wearing allowed him plenty of leeway.
“You’re just trying to distract me so I won’t cut your hair,” she claimed breathlessly.
“Is it working?”
“Yes. Everything appears to be working just fine,” she replied, provocatively running a fingertip down the placket of his jeans. “Of course, I’d have to examine things more closely to make sure.”
“Be my guest,” he said, loosening his hold on her to lean back in the chair. “Examine all you want.”
“Right after I finish trimming your hair,” she declared as, in a flash, she leapt up.
With a plaintive “mrrrow” Blue reminded them of her presence on the other dining room chair. The cross-eyed kitten was watching their every move, eagerly waiting for an opportunity to play. Gaylynn snatched the scissors away just in time, as the kitten had been eyeing them mischievously.
“Why are you so gung ho on cutting my hair?” Hunter demanded.
“You asked me to, remember? Besides, the good women of Lonesome Gap have been giving you the eye much too often lately. You look entirely too sexy.”
Rolling his eyes in a dramatic display of martyrdom, he said, “Why do I see a crew cut in my future?”
“Nothing so drastic. Just a snip here. And a snip there.” Actually, Gaylynn spent more time running her fingers through his hair than actually cutting it. When push came to shove she didn’t have the heart to cut much off. Just a trim so his hair didn’t hide his collar as much as it did before. And in the process she got to enjoy the things only a woman in love would appreciate, like the location of every gray hair. She counted thirty-five, most around his temples. “They make you look distinguished,” she told him after giving him the exact count.
“I think you gave me another five gray hairs when you came at me with those scissors,” he righteously maintained.
“Don’t move or I might cut off something I shouldn’t,” she said as he shifted in his seat while dueling with Blue, using a pencil as a sword. The kitten loved this particular game, it was one Hunter played with her often.
In fact, all the cats had lost their initial fear of him and had been completely won over by him, just as Gaylynn was. Judging from the loudness of their purrs when he petted them, Cleo and her two kittens thought Hunter was the best thing since canned tuna. Gaylynn had to agree. There wasn’t a better petter on the face of the earth than Hunter. With that thought in mind, she hurriedly finished up.
“There, all done.” She produced a hand mirror with a flourish. “Ta-dah!”
He barely glanced at his reflection. “Very nice. Now I do believe there’s the matter of an inspection to take care of?”
“An inspection?”
“Examination may have been the word you used. To make sure everything was in working order,” he reminded her.
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to really appreciate what I’ve got in the bedroom.”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
Taking him by the hand she led him to her room. “Notice anything different?”
“The box of condoms on the bedside table is open.”
“Besides that.” The look she gave him made him think of those TV game shows where the clock was ticking down until you gave the right answer.
“Okay, I confess. Whenever I’m in this room I’m not paying attention to the decor. I’m paying attention to you.”
“I know. And I love you for it.” She tossed the words out teasingly, fondly, knowing he wouldn’t take them seriously even though she meant them that way. “But look around. Surely you notice something different?”
He hurriedly surveyed the room. The white iron bedstead was the same. She’d added dainty feminine touches around the room since moving in—a mirror here, a vase of flowers there, the frilly curtains on the window. She’d turned the cabin into a home instead of
just a place to crash. He did recognize the purple floral wreath that she’d asked his opinion about at the shop in town. He didn’t recognize.
“The white bed ruffle thing?” he guessed.
“No, that was there before.”
“What about that picture?” He pointed to the needlepointed teddy bear holding a quilt—above which were the words When Life Gives You Scraps, Make Quilts.
“You’re getting closer,” she said, “but no cigar.”
“I give up.”
“The star quilt. I bought it from Ma Battle this morning. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she noted in admiration, running her hand over the purple-and-white design.
“It’s beautiful. Let’s break it in.” Without further ado, Hunter tumbled her onto the bed.
To his surprise, instead of melting in his arms the way she usually did, Gaylynn bounced right back up.
What’s more, she yanked him off the bed, too.
“You don’t sit on this!” she exclaimed in horror. “It’s a piece of art!”
“Then it should be on a wall, not the bed.”
“You think so? That’s a good idea. I’ve seen those quilt hangers that can go on the wall. In fact, Ma Battle might have some down at the store. We’ll go look now.”
“Later. Right now this piece of art is in the way and there are other things I’d rather look at,” he noted, giving her a potently intimate look. “Here take this—” He handed her the two end corners of the quilt before going to the head of the bed and taking the other two corners in hand. “We’ll fold it nice and pretty,” he drawled teasingly, kissing her as he handed over his two corners in the folding process. His lips were gone before she could respond. The devilish gleam in his eyes told her he was taking pleasure in baiting her.
Two could play at that game, she decided. So after he’d bent over to gather up the bottom of the quilt for another fold, she was ready for him. When he straightened, she kissed him just as he had her—kamikaze fashion, there and gone.