The Librarian of Boone's Hollow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Adelaide, you about done?”

  Addie jolted and looked up. For reasons Addie didn’t understand, Nanny Fay preferred to call her by her given name instead of her familiar nickname. Nanny Fay waited next to the table, a cup cradled between her palms and her ruffled nightcap covering her snow-white hair. Addie glanced at the mantel clock and grimaced. “Oh, my goodness. Nine o’clock already? You want to turn in, don’t you?”

  “I do.” The soft smile Addie had come to expect curved her pink lips. “Got lots of gardenin’ to finish, an’ my woodpile’s gettin’ low. I’m gonna need my strength for the morrow.” She glanced at the pages. “You writin’ a book?”

  Addie grinned. How wonderful that Nanny Fay loved books. The older woman took three breaks a day for the sole purpose of reading. She was currently reading Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer. When Addie told her there was a book all about Tom’s friend Huck, her face had lit up and she declared she had to read it, too. Addie hadn’t seen it at the library, but she had a copy in her personal collection. If Mother and Daddy sent her books, she would make sure Nanny Fay got to read about Huckleberry Finn’s adventures before anybody else in Boone’s Hollow.

  “Not right now. Only a letter to my folks.”

  “Well, now, I reckon they’re right eager to hear from you.” She took a little sip from her cup. “If you don’t mind stayin’ up by your own self, I’ll trust you to put out the lamp when you’re done, an’ I’ll go on off to bed.”

  Addie glanced at her letter. If she kept writing, she would need to add a third page, which would probably require another stamp. She should bring the missive to a close. “I won’t be much longer, but please don’t let me keep you up. I’m glad to put out the lamp.” Would she have ever thought she’d become so comfortable lighting and extinguishing coal oil lamps? At first she’d been nervous, certain she’d start a fire, but after only a week of using the lamps in place of electric lights in both the library and Nanny Fay’s cabin, the primitive lighting didn’t worry her at all.

  “All right, then. You sleep well.” Nanny Fay turned toward her bedroom door but paused. “Do the lib’ary girls go out on Saturdays?”

  Addie shook her head. “Only Monday through Friday, but Miss West leaves for Louisville tomorrow around noon, so the other girls and I are meeting her at the library midmorning for a little send-off.” Would Miss West tell them the name of the next director? She hoped they wouldn’t be left handling things on their own for too long. Bettina, Glory, and Alba didn’t seem terribly concerned about the record-keeping part of the program, but Miss West had been adamant that the WPA council needed to know to whom the books were going.

  Nanny Fay pursed her lips. “Mm-hmm…I’m gonna miss that lady. Would you tell her so when you see her tomorrow?”

  “Why don’t you come with me? She would appreciate being able to give you a proper farewell.”

  The old woman’s smile turned sad. “Aw, honey, this send-off’s for you lib’ary girls. I wouldn’t belong there.”

  Addie understood what Nanny Fay meant. The other girls wouldn’t welcome the herb lady’s presence. She tried to smile, but her lips refused to cooperate. “I’ll give her your message.”

  “Thank you, Adelaide. G’night now.”

  Addie bit the end of the pen and watched Nanny Fay cross the wide-planked floor to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and still Addie gazed in that direction. She hadn’t intended to share anything of a negative nature with her parents. They were far away, and they’d only needlessly worry. But the prodding she’d experienced concerning the books now attacked for another reason.

  She bent over the page.

  Mother and Daddy, I know you both pray for me every day. Would you also pray for the kind lady who has taken me in? She’s old, and she has no family and not even any friends. She has a very lonely existence. Please pray that God would

  Addie paused, pen frozen in place. Would what? Give peace? Comfort? Despite Nanny Fay’s solitary existence, she seemed content. She held no grudges against the people who spoke unkindly of her or ignored her. As odd as it seemed, given the woman’s simple surroundings, hardscrabble life, and ostracism, she didn’t really seem to need a thing.

  All at once, Addie knew what to write.

  soften the hearts of those in the community so they might reach out to her and learn from her. She really is a remarkable woman.

  With love forever and always,

  Your Adeladybug

  * * *

  ADDIE ARRIVED AT the library a little past nine on Saturday morning. She carried a small calico pouch of dried birch leaves, a farewell gift from Nanny Fay, along with a handwritten note of appreciation for giving her not only a job but a charge to fulfill. She hoped Miss West would appreciate Addie’s solemn promise to not give up. Three cents and the letter she’d written to Mother and Daddy rested in her dress pocket. She intended to mail the letter after she’d said goodbye to her library director.

  As usual, the library door stood open, so Addie walked in. A suitcase and two crates waited inside the door. Scraping noises filtered from the other side of the blanket wall. Was Miss West trying to drag out another crate? Given her health condition, she shouldn’t do such difficult tasks on her own.

  Addie set the pouch and note on one of the crates and crossed to the blankets. “Miss West?”

  A hand—larger, broader, and more masculine than Miss West’s, with black rimming the fingernails—caught the edge of one of the blankets and pushed it aside. Emmett Tharp appeared in the opening.

  Addie took a backward step. “What are you doing in there? Where’s Miss West?”

  He brushed his palms together. The bandages he’d worn the last time she’d seen him were gone. “Rearranging. She’s at the post office, using the telephone. She’ll be back shortly.”

  Addie peeked past him into the small area portioned off as sleeping quarters. The pieces of furniture remained, although arranged differently, and Miss West’s personal items were gone. The space seemed empty and sad. “Oh. Did Miss West ask you to ready the room for the next director?”

  An odd smile briefly tipped the corners of his lips. “Sort of.”

  Another thought struck, and she beamed at him. “You’re the new director, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  Why didn’t he seem happier about it? “That’s wonderful, Emmett. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He moved past her to the table. She hadn’t noticed the stacks of bedding and articles of clothing on its top when she came in. He picked up the bedding stack and clomped through the opening. The sheets, blankets, and pillows hit the cot, and then he turned and closed the gap in the blanket wall, blocking Addie’s view.

  She stared at the mouse-eaten edges of the blankets for several seconds, hands on her hips, then huffed and marched out of the library. A horse-drawn wagon entered town from her right, and she waited for it to pass before darting across the street to the little building that served as both post office and telephone office. Its screen door stood open, as seemed to be customary in every place of business in town, so she entered and nearly collided with the counter that divided the tiny building into two uneven portions.

  Miss West was on the other side in the corner with her back to the wall, talking on the wall telephone. She gave Addie a little wave, then turned her back to the door.

  A slender, gray-haired man Addie presumed was the postmaster unfolded himself from a little desk chair and placed his hands on the counter. “Can I help you?” His eyebrows descended, some of the wiry hairs catching behind his spectacles. “Don’t b’lieve we’ve met.”

  Addie extended her hand. “I’m Adelaide Cowherd. I’m new in town.”

  He squeezed her fingers and let go. “Baylus Landrum. I’m old in town.” He chuckled. “You the new book gal I been hear
in’ about?”

  Addie nodded. “Yes, sir.” She pulled the letter and coins from her pocket. “I’d like to send this.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place for it.” He slid the pennies across the counter into a drawer and took out a stamp and glue bottle. “You plannin’ to stay in Boone’s Holler fer a while? ’Cause if you is, we should oughta set you up with a box.” He pointed with his bony chin toward a set of small wooden cubbies standing at the end of the counter. “With Miss West leavin’, her box is open. You can have box six if you want it.”

  Mail was delivered free of charge to houses in Georgetown, but people who used a post office box paid a small fee each month. After already paying for lodging and a horse, she needed to make sure she could afford a mailbox. Every expense took away from what she would be able to send home to Mother and Daddy or to the college. “How much does it cost?”

  “Fifteen cents a month.”

  Addie wouldn’t deem fifteen cents an exorbitant amount, but wouldn’t avoiding the cost be best? “Um…what if I share someone else’s box? I’m lodging with Nanny Fay Tuckett. Does she have a box?”

  The man slid backward as if someone had grabbed his suspenders and dragged him. “I’d heard the new book gal had taken a room with that ol’ herb lady, but I didn’t believe it. So, it’s true?”

  “They just don’t know no better.” Nanny Fay’s voice in Addie’s ear stifled the sharp comment forming on her tongue. She nodded. “Yes, it is. She’s given me the use of a very nice room and is treating me as if I were family. So…” She smiled. “Am I able to share a box with her?”

  He snorted something unintelligible under his breath and returned to the counter. “If that’s what you wanna do, fine. You can take it up with her on how to divide the cost.”

  “Thank you.”

  He glued her stamp to the envelope and dropped it in a wooden tray at the opposite end of the counter from the cubbies, all without looking at her. Then he returned to his chair. As he did, Miss West hung up.

  She scurried to Addie and linked arms with her. “Now that my train transport is verified, let’s go to the library.” Tears brightened her eyes. “My, it’s going to be harder for me to say goodbye than I realized.” She urged Addie toward the door.

  “One moment, please.” Addie half turned toward the counter. “Mr. Landrum?” She waited for him to acknowledge her and maintained her smile in the face of his frown. “I wondered…are you on the library’s book route?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, then, I’d be happy to add your name to the list. You and your family would have reading material delivered to your house every week.” She whisked a grin at Miss West. “Books offer such enjoyment, and you can learn new skills, such as woodworking, or explore subjects from mathematics to outer space. Would you like to receive books, completely free of charge, on a weekly basis?”

  A flicker of interest showed behind the lenses of his spectacles. “Who’d be bringin’ them books to me?”

  Addie shrugged. “One of the four book girls—Bettina Webber is one, and then there’s Glory Ashcroft and Alba Gilkey.” She inwardly commended herself for remembering their names. “And me, of course.”

  “I’d like to know about takin’ care o’ critters. Or maybe growin’ flowers. My wife would like that.” A scowl marred his brow. “If it’s one o’ them others bringin’ the books, then you can put down my name.”

  Although his deliberate rebuff stung a bit, Addie offered a nod. “Yes, sir. Animal care or gardening. I’ll write it down. Good day, now.”

  Miss West ushered Addie across the street, lips pressed into a firm line. As soon as they reached the library, she threw her arms around Addie and hugged her tight. “I’m so proud of you! You refused to be cowed by him, you gained his interest, and you did it all with a kind spirit.” She pulled loose and sighed. “You followed the biblical admonition ‘Do good to them that hate you.’ ”

  Addie swallowed. “Do you really think the people of Boone’s Hollow hate me?”

  Miss West hugged her again. “No. No, I don’t.” She kept hold of Addie’s upper arms and gazed fervently into her face. “But even if you begin to believe they do, if you continue to treat them as you did Mr. Landrum, you’ll win them over in time.” She sighed. “I only wish I could be here to see it happen.”

  Emmett

  LORD, AM I MAKING A MISTAKE?

  On the other side of the curtain, Miss West and the book delivery girls chatted and laughed and occasionally sniffled. Thank goodness he hadn’t been invited to the farewell party. Girls…What did he know about working with girls?

  Emmett arranged his shaving gear on top of the dinged-up waterfall bureau. He laid his razor next to his comb and recalled the Christmas he’d received it. Paw had grinned and winked, saying, “Reckon you’re growin’ into a man if you’ve got enough chin whiskers to carve off every mornin’.” Emmett’s chest had swelled with pride, being called a man by his father.

  Paw hadn’t said one word to him over breakfast this morning. Hadn’t even looked at him. Pretty much the way he’d acted the day Emmett announced he’d be using his college scholarship and working for a degree. The past week, going to the mine every morning with Paw, eating lunch with him, coming home together, and talking at the dinner table had made his strained muscles, blisters, and bone-deep weariness worth it. Having Paw’s approval…Was there anything better? And now it was gone again.

  But he couldn’t shake Maw’s notion about things falling too neatly into place for it to be anything except God lining up the dominoes. When Miss West had come by yesterday evening, showed him the record-keeping books, and gone through the list of duties, he’d known right off he’d be able to do what was required as the library director. Her belief in the importance of putting books into the hands of the hills people inspired him and set his pulse galloping as much as when he’d cheered for the UK Wildcats at a home football game. Then she told him the salary the WPA job paid, five dollars more a month than he’d make at the mine. He wouldn’t have to worry about that bill he had at the company store in Lynch. Plus, he could live right there in the library. Earning more money? Not having to share a loft with his eight-year-old brother? No other answer except yes formed in his mind. So he said it.

  Then he’d seen Paw’s face, and a part of him had wanted to take it back. Except Maw’d jumped up and hugged his neck, so happy for him, and Miss West had seemed so confident to entrust “her” library to his keeping. Then, most hard to resist, the feeling in the center of his soul that God had made it all happen…What else could he do?

  “God, could You help Paw understand I’m not going against him?” He whispered the prayer to his reflection in the razor’s silver casing. “Could You let him be proud of me, even if I don’t follow in his footsteps?”

  He suddenly realized it was quiet on the other side of the blanket wall. He crossed to the overlap and pushed one flap aside. The library side of the old smokehouse was empty of the girls and Miss West’s stack of belongings. The driver must’ve come for her. He’d have the rest of the day here to himself—time to familiarize himself with the materials on the shelves, see which books were in the hands of which families, and review the process for sending records to the committee in Washington, DC, every month.

  A shiver went down his spine, and he shook his head in wonderment. He, Emmett Tharp of Boone’s Hollow, Kentucky, got to communicate with people who worked for the president of the United States. Would he have ever imagined such a thing? Even if this job was temporary—the economy would improve again, wouldn’t it?—he couldn’t deny feeling special for having been chosen to be a part of something that could result in so much good.

  If only Paw could see it that way.

  Nanny Fay

  NANNY FAY SAT on the porch step, fanning herself with her apron skirt and watching Adelaide carry another
armload of firewood to the pile next to the cabin. My, the shock on the girl’s pretty face when she’d come back from Miss West’s send-off and seen how much chopped wood lay all over the side yard. She’d said for Nanny Fay to sit and let her stack it. Nanny Fay didn’t voice nary an objection. Her arms were plumb wore out from bringing down that ax.

  Truth be known, this might be the last year she chopped her own wood. Her sixty-ninth birthing day’d passed three weeks back. Shouldn’t a body ought to be able to rest after living for seven full decades? But, of course, her not chopping her own wood depended on finding somebody else to do it for her. She’d set to praying on that now, and the Lord would provide. He always did.

  Hadn’t He provided help in the form of a comely, tall city gal who didn’t look strong enough to carry so much as a basket of kindling? Look at her now, all red faced and puffing but picking up those chunks of wood and stacking ’em as nice and neat as if she’d been doing such chores her whole life long. Determination, that’s what she had. And a hardworking spirit. Add in her tenderness, and the Lord done real good when He crafted Miss Adelaide Cowherd. And now Nanny Fay got to count her a friend. Yes, the Lord sure did rain down blessings.

  “Honey, why don’tcha stop for a minute an’ rest yourself?” Nanny Fay patted the spot beside her. “That wood ain’t goin’ no place. Your face gets any redder, you’re likely to bust a blood vessel.”

  Adelaide grinned at Nanny Fay over her armload of wood. “If I do, is there something in one of your jars to fix it?”

  Oh, law, listen to her making jokes about them herbs instead of being scared of ’em. Nanny Fay laughed. “I reckon there is, but wouldn’t you ruther not hafta to make use o’ one? Come. Set for a spell.”

  Adelaide emptied her armload onto the pile, swiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then ambled over. She sank down next to Nanny Fay and stuck her legs straight out, same way Nanny Fay was sitting. Her legs stretched farther—gracious, she was as leggy as a young colt—but she’d kicked off her shoes so they was both with bare feet and toes pointed to the sky. Seeing their uncovered feet there, side by side, made Nanny Fay’s heart smile.