The Librarian of Boone's Hollow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  As she placed things on the shelves, she took note of tattered pages, bent covers, water stains, and other signs of age or damage. She stayed quiet, but inwardly she seethed. Had the people who received these items treated them poorly? Such a disrespectful thing to do, especially considering the effort being made to deliver the books directly to the families. When she made her first delivery, she would give a short lecture about the treatment of precious books.

  She carried a particularly tattered copy of Ladies’ Home Journal to the table and waited quietly for Miss West to acknowledge her. When the woman looked up, Addie held out the magazine. “Ma’am, this is falling apart.”

  Miss West took the periodical and thumbed through it, grimacing. “Yes, this one is in particularly poor shape. It’s been popular, though, because of the recipe section. Any of the magazines with recipes are sought after by the women here.” She laid it aside and turned sideways in her chair, her gaze drifting across the shelves. “When I arrived a year ago, I brought four crates of books and magazines with me, all donated by various charity groups. Unfortunately, none of the groups donated new items. Being bounced around on horseback and passed through so many eager hands…well, they simply can’t hold up.”

  Guilt tickled Addie. She’d jumped to a conclusion. An unfair one. She fingered the torn cover of the magazine. “If you have some stiff paper and glue, I could cut out the articles and such and paste them onto pages. They could be put together again into something sturdier and more usable.”

  Miss West jerked her attention to Addie, wonder blooming on her face. “What a fine idea, Addie. Instead of discarding the magazines, we could make scrapbooks. Perhaps with themes, such as recipes or short stories or subjects like birds or insects. Yes, I like the idea very much.” Then her expression faded, and she seemed to forget Addie stood in the room. “But it would take a great deal of time. The girls already spend eight to ten hours on their delivery routes. It wouldn’t be fair to ask them to work on scrapbooks when they have responsibilities in their homes, as well.”

  Addie waited several moments, but when Miss West didn’t speak again, she cleared her throat. “I won’t be living with a family, so I could use my evening hours to make scrapbooks, if you’d like.” As soon as the idea left her mouth, she realized she’d offered the only time she would have to work on her writing projects. The notebooks and pens in the bottom of her suitcase begged to come out, to record the ideas that filled her imagination and tell the stories residing in her heart. But she wouldn’t retract her offer.

  Miss West turned to Addie, brows pinching into a thoughtful frown. “I appreciate your willingness. It’s a fine idea. Truly. I wish I’d thought of it myself. And I will give it more thought and seek a means of implementing it.” She rose and slipped her hand through the bend of Addie’s elbow. “But right now, let me escort you to Nanny Fay’s cabin. If you’re going to accept her offer of lodging, we should get you settled. Then we’ll see about finding you a horse, and”—she sighed—“tomorrow we’ll send you out with books.”

  A prickle of apprehension attacked Addie’s spine. “Miss West, should I lodge at Bettina’s house instead? The things she said about Nanny Fay…And Mr. Gilliam didn’t seem to think highly of her, either.”

  The woman’s lips turned down into a stern scowl. She shook her finger at Addie. “Bunk and nonsense. I want you to put those words and opinions out of your mind. You’re old enough to form your own conclusions. If, after meeting her yourself, you believe you would not be able to live comfortably under her roof, then you can change your mind. But I will be sorely disappointed if you refuse this woman based on the prejudicial yapping of superstitious fools.”

  Addie gaped at her.

  Miss West clapped her hand over her mouth. She grabbed Addie by the shoulders. “Please forgive my outburst. My own bias shouldn’t influence you, either.” She released Addie and sank into the chair, a sigh wheezing from her throat. “It’s best if I don’t accompany you to Nanny Fay’s. You should have time alone with her if you want to form your own opinion. I’ll take you as far as the path to her cabin, then send you on your way. Visit with her for as long as you need to make an informed decision. Whatever you choose, I will support you in it.”

  Nanny Fay

  NANNY FAY KNELT in the dirt and used her fingers to carve a little moat around each cabbage start. She chuckled. “Whose hands is that a-workin’ the soil?” Would she ever get used to seeing the wrinkles and age spots? Must’ve been there for years already, and they still didn’t seem to belong. Her hands showed proof of time passing by. “I wasn’t s’posed to get so old, Eagle.”

  A pair of red birds kept a steady trill from a bush at the edge of the woods. With them a-chattering, she shouldn’t need to add to the noise. But the birds were talking to each other, not paying her a bit of mind. Sometimes she hungered for another human voice. So she talked to herself.

  “Hello?”

  Nanny Fay shot a confused look toward the bushes. The birds took off, the male’s bright feathers easier to follow than its mate’s brownish-red ones as they disappeared into the trees. She scratched her head. “I’m hearin’ things. Really am gettin’ old. An’ mebbe even tetched.”

  “Excuse me…Ma’am?”

  Now, that wasn’t inside her head. Came from behind her. Nanny Fay shifted herself around. A pretty young girl in a sunshine-striped dress stood at the edge of the turned soil no more’n a few feet away. How’d she got so close without being heard? “I was lost in thought, an’ that’s a fact.”

  The girl tilted her head. “Pardon me?”

  Nanny Fay shook her head. “Don’t matter.” She folded back the brim of her bonnet to better see the girl. This must be the one Preacher Darnell had said was coming to Boone’s Holler and might need a place to stay. She’d said of course she’d be pleased to host the new packhorse librarian, but she sure hadn’t figured the girl would actually show up here. Nobody in town had got to her yet, it seemed. Might as well enjoy her company before it got took away.

  She pushed herself to her feet, grunting a little when the catch in her spine twinged, and brushed her palms on her apron skirt. “You the new book gal?”

  The girl nodded. A strand of hair come loose from her ponytail and drifted across her cheek. She pushed it behind her ear. “Yes, ma’am. Miss West, the librarian, sent me over to meet you. I’m Adelaide Cowherd, from Georgetown.”

  Nanny Fay didn’t have no fancy introduction to give. “I’m Nanny Fay, but I reckon you already know that if Miss West told you to come.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well…” Nanny Fay took one toddling step and paused. My, but her joints stiffened up quick these days. She waddled out of the garden, stepping careful around the little green shoots that’d grow into beans and peas. “How ’bout you an’ me go to the porch there? Got a nice bench settin’ in the shade. We can rest a spell an’ get acquainted.”

  Adelaide Cowherd smiled. “That sounds fine, ma’am.”

  They headed across the grass. The girl was long legged, could’ve reached the porch in three, maybe four good steps on her own, but she stayed slow and matched her steps to Nanny Fay’s. Sure looked funny, her fancy shoes up close to Nanny Fay’s lumpy, wrinkled bare feet. But if Adelaide thought so, she did a good job hiding it.

  Nanny Fay grabbed the porch post and pulled herself up on the warped floorboards. Adelaide hopped up behind her, spry as a colt. Nanny Fay sat at one end of the thick length of smooth, weathered wood held up by four sturdy legs and patted the spot beside her. “There’s room for both of us. My Eagle, when he built somethin’, he made it to last. Bench has been here over twenty years, but it still sits as solid as the day he set it under the window. Come ahead. Set yourself down.”

  Adelaide tucked her skirt underneath her and sat. She sure was a graceful thing. Reminded Nanny Fay of a swan. Or maybe a lily a-swaying in a l
ight breeze. The girl put her hands in her lap and angled her face toward Nanny Fay. Her pink lips formed a little upward curve, and her eyes, brown as Eagle’s had been, didn’t hold nary a bit of fear. Curiosity, sure. Couldn’t blame her for that. But after being looked at with mistrust for so many years, having this sweet-faced girl sit right next to her made Nanny Fay want to laugh and dance with delight. Now wouldn’t that be a sight? Best get to business.

  “So, you’re needin’ a place to stay, is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The girl pushed that wavy curl of hair behind her ear again. “Miss West said you had a room I could rent, but she didn’t say how much it would cost.”

  Nanny Fay fiddled with the brim of her bonnet. “I don’t rightly know. Never had a boarder before. I reckon meals an’ such is to come with it? Mebbe doin’ up your sheets when I do mine?”

  “I’m happy to do my own laundry. I can even help with cooking. Well, with breakfast and supper at least. I’ll be on a route at noontime.”

  The eagerness in her voice made joy sprout in Nanny Fay’s chest. Seemed as if this girl wanted to stay with her. Was even willing to bargain for the privilege. “Well, now, if you’re willin’ to put a hand to some o’ those chores, I wouldn’t feel right askin’ a heap o’ money from you. Would”—she licked her lips, thinking hard—“four bits a week be fair?”

  Adelaide’s mouth fell open. “No, ma’am!”

  Nanny Fay hung her head. She shouldn’t ought to be greedy. “All right. Two bits, then.”

  The girl popped up off the bench like a striped chippy coming out of its hole. “I won’t take advantage of your hospitality. If you’re providing me with meals and a place to sleep, then I need to pay you at least two dollars a week. Anything less wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  Tears burned Nanny Fay’s eyes. This girl was worried about being fair to her? She stood. “Honey, I’d be—how’d you say it?—takin’ advantage of you if I accepted all that money before you even seen where you’d be sleepin’. Mebbe we should go inside. Let you see what you’re gettin’ yourself in for. Would that be fair?”

  Adelaide nodded.

  Nanny Fay opened the door and left it wide for the girl to follow. She came on in, went as far as the braided rug in the middle of the sitting and cooking room, and stopped. Her brown eyes wide, she looked from one corner to another until she’d almost turned a circle. Seemed as if she was biting on her lip. Girl from the city probably lived in a big house with fancy furniture and lots of rooms. This old cabin was home, but it surely mustn’t seem like much to somebody from as far away as Georgetown.

  Nanny Fay pointed to a door on the right. “That there’s the room you’d stay in.”

  The girl lifted the crossbar and pushed the door open. She stepped inside, and the little sleeping room got the same going-over she’d gave the front room. Nanny Fay stayed in the doorway and watched her move from the iron bed to the rocking chair in the corner to the row of pegs pounded into the log wall to hold clothes. She dragged her finger over the top of the four-drawer chest next to the rocking chair, and Nanny Fay cringed.

  “Things in here ain’t been touched with so much as a feather duster for quite a while.” She hadn’t figured this girl would come. She wished now she’d figured different. Already thoughts of sitting in front of the fireplace in the evening, sipping sassafras or catnip tea, and talking the way she and Eagle used to do when day was done were filling her mind. It’d hurt worse’n stubbing a toe to lose the company now. She took a hopeful step into the room. “But it won’t take long for me to tidy it for you.”

  Real slow, Adelaide turned until she was looking full into Nanny Fay’s eyes. “It’s a fine room, ma’am. Real fine. I’d like to stay here, but I won’t pay a penny less than two dollars. And I’ll do the tidying myself.”

  My, this girl had pride. Stubborn pride, same as Eagle. Nanny Fay chuckled. “I reckon I’d be wastin’ my breath to argue with you.”

  “May I move in today?”

  She could move in that very hour if she wanted to. “You sure can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tears clouded up her vision. Wouldn’t take long and the girl would move out. The folks in town, they’d make it so hard on her she wouldn’t have no other choice, and Nanny Fay wouldn’t hold a grudge against her for it. But for a little while at least, Nanny Fay would have someone besides herself, the birds, and the Good Lord to talk to, the way it’d been when the gal of her heart was still alive.

  She sniffed hard and swished her eyes with her apron. “Adelaide Cowherd…thank you.”

  Addie

  ADDIE WHISKED A PEEK OVER her shoulder. Kermit Gilliam still stood outside the wide doorway of his livery stable, fists on his hips, scowling after her and Miss West. Thank goodness Miss West hadn’t sent her to the livery on her own. Mr. Gilliam proved himself the opposite of Nanny Fay when it came to making business deals. He demanded two dollars a week for the privilege of using one of his horses for a book delivery route. Miss West bargained him down to seventy-five cents, but he wasn’t happy about it. Mostly because Addie had “joined herself with that ol’ herb lady,” as he put it.

  They reached the little post office-telephone office, which seemed far enough from the livery that Addie felt confident she could speak without being overheard. After this morning, when she’d experienced the men’s voices carrying all the way up the road, she wondered whether the mountain air had some ability to transport sounds.

  “Can you explain something to me, Miss West?”

  “What’s that?” The librarian huffed like a steam engine and repeatedly wiped her cheeks and throat with a handkerchief as they walked.

  “Nanny Fay was very nice to me.” She envisioned the woman’s round face and pink cheeks, her snow-white hair peeping from the brim of her old-fashioned poke bonnet, her faded blue eyes gazing at Addie the way a child admired a new toy. “And her cabin was as neat as a pin. Why do the people around here dislike her so?”

  Miss West gestured Addie through the open library door, then followed her in. She sank into a chair. “For the same reason they aren’t terribly fond of me. Because we don’t hail from Boone’s Hollow.”

  Addie sat on the second chair and rested her chin in her hand. Something didn’t quite make sense. “But when you and Mr. Gilliam came for me yesterday, he was friendly at first. He even wanted me to sit on the wagon seat beside him.”

  “Of course he did. He’s a man, and you’re a comely young girl. He wanted to impress you.”

  Recalling his unexpected sullenness, Addie released a little huff. “He sure changed his mind about that.”

  Miss West opened her record book and picked up her pen. “Which shows how closed minded he is. You expressed an interest in residing with Nanny Fay over one of his cohorts, Burke Webber. He couldn’t see, from our point of view, the sensibility of staying with a single woman instead of a single man. Add to that his irrational belief that the old woman is, as Bettina so crassly put it this morning, a witch, and he became downright childish in his actions. His overcharging you for the use of a horse is further proof of his childishness. I suspect if you’d decided to lodge at the Webbers’, he would have let you use one of his horses for twenty-five cents a week.”

  To what kind of community had she come? When Miss West referred to the people as backward, she’d been right. “Is everyone here so closed minded?”

  Miss West tsk-tsked. “As a general rule, the people here are resistant to outsiders and staunchly attached to the superstitious beliefs passed down from previous generations. But there are exceptions to the rule, too. The Baptist preacher and his wife, although both grew up on the mountain, don’t hold with the prejudicial attitudes. Nor do a handful of local residents, although they’re less likely to speak up against them since they live here and desire to keep peace with their neighbors.” She sighed. “Education is key
to changing the old mindsets and opening the people here to rational discourse. Which is why I believe so strongly in this program.” She paused and stared at Addie for several seconds. “Addie, may I be blunt?”

  Given the woman’s serious bearing, Addie was half-afraid to assent, but curiosity rose above concern. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The other girls who take books to the hills families do it because it’s a job. It’s a means of earning an honest wage, something that’s never been easy to come by for young women in this area. But I see the delivery of these books as something deeper, more important than a mere job. A book takes one into another person’s thoughts and emotions. Books open up worlds beyond the view from one’s own window. Stories can stir compassion, can inspire integrity, can show different lifestyles and problem-solving skills. Books, Addie, have the power to change people for the better.”

  Her breathing became heavy and labored, her cheeks mottled with pink, but she continued with fervency. “If we can inspire the hills people to read, we have the opportunity to eliminate the long-held, fear-based superstitions that keep them mired in petty feuds and foolish prejudices. We can impact this community and its future generations by placing books in their hands and encouraging them to read.”

  Addie gazed at the librarian, captured not only by her words but also by the conviction behind them. Somehow, she’d encapsulated why Addie had always liked to read and why she wanted to write. To inspire and educate and, yes, even change hearts for the better. Her fingers itched to take out her notebook and pen and record every word she’d just heard so she could reflect on it later. She started to ask permission, but Miss West began speaking again.

  “I tell you all this because you’re an outsider, the same as I am. There are some who will snub you the way they’ve snubbed me. But, Addie”—Miss West gripped her wrist—“don’t give up. Don’t let their actions dictate your reactions. You know what books can do. You know what words can do. Don’t give up. Will you promise me? Don’t you dare let them make you give up.”