Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  “No, I… Wait a minute, why can’t you?” Carmen tilted her head, looking at Lorraine from under her brow. Lorraine went on, “We can stage a protest or something, right? Save our library, something like that?”

  “Not unless you have some other career in your back pocket.”

  “This is my career, Carmen, and yours! And why? We didn’t get into this in order to get rich or famous!”

  “Lo’, I got into this so I could work in a nice, quiet place. With my family, library was the only place you couldn’t shout at the top of your lungs!”

  “Exactly, but today’s kids need that as much as we did, as much as any generation!” Lorraine couldn’t ignore the fatalistic expression on Carmen’s face. “What if we had a fundraiser, raised enough money to keep the library going?”

  “You know how much that would take? You’re talking about a hundred grand just for this branch and just for one year! Then there’s the overall pattern, Lo’. It’s not just this branch. Pretty soon the whole concept of the public library will be a memory. Like phone booths, you remember those? Or those photo development places—little shacks in parking lots where people would drive up and get their pictures? Times change, Lo’—y’just gotta deal with it.”

  “But that’s just the problem, Car. Those government fat cats are always cutting all the social service agencies, from welfare to planned parenthood. Those rich bastards are slicing up our country and eating it like a Christmas turkey, and we’re left to starve! It’s not fair and it’s not right! We have to draw the line somewhere, right?”

  “Not across my neck, we don’t. You wanna draw a line, Lo’, do it someplace else.”

  “But this is where it matters, Car, this is where it counts!”

  “No, Lorraine, no, this is just a library. This is where homeless people come to get out of the sun. This is where old people come to read magazines—another dying institution. This is just a job nobody wants to pay for, just a building filled with books nobody wants to read.”

  Lorraine couldn’t disguise her sorrow, and Carmen couldn’t ignore it. “It’s okay, Lo’, you’ll find something else. We both will.”

  “Go along to get along,” Lorraine repeated. But she didn’t mean it, and she wasn’t ready to accept it.

  The problem wriggled in the back of her mind all the way back to her apartment. The one-bedroom apartment wasn’t much, but it represented promise; it was Lorraine’s independence, her future as an adult. It had been the first place she’d ever had on her own after childhood with the Devonshires and then college years rooming with Jeremy Bush. This was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life, Lorraine said to herself, a voice in the back of her brain. Is that it? Is it over already?

  No, she told herself, I’m not just going to let go of it, or of the library. What are they going to cut next? No more public schools? No more emergency rooms? People dying in the streets? No. The libraries may not save any lives, but they inspire educations and they employ a lot of good people.

  There must be something I can do!

  Lorraine’s smartphone rang, the familiar name on the screen bringing her no particular solace, much less joy. “Donal, hi.”

  “Hey, you know my number by heart,” Donal said, deliberately cheerful. She didn’t bother to explain, and she didn’t have the chance. “Just thought I’d give you a call, see what’s up.”

  “Nothing good, I’m afraid. They’re dropping the axe on the library.”

  “Oh, that sucks, Lo’. Sorry to hear it.”

  “Not any sorrier than I am to say it.”

  “Okay, well, we’ll get married and you can raise my children—no big deal.”

  Lorraine spat out an amused chuckle, but the underlaying frustration almost hurt her teeth. “That’s your solution to everything.”

  “It would solve all my problems, yeah, yours too.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” A tense silence passed. Neither wanted to pursue the conversation where both knew it was going. “Anyway, one thing at a time, eh?”

  “Sure, right, exactly. So let’s talk about this weekend. Six o’clock Saturday?”

  “Oh, did we…um, did we nail that down?” Lorraine said hesitantly.

  “We’re doing it now.”

  Lorraine thought about it, and not nearly for the first time. “Sure, right, exactly.”

  The conversation trailed on for a while until Lorraine managed to end it gracefully. She knew she wasn’t in love with Donal; they had been together for a few months now, known each other all throughout school, and she couldn’t help contemplate that she just wasn’t in love with him the way she ought to be. She had never been in love before, but from what she had seen in other relationships, and from her parents, she just didn’t feel that spark she knew should be there. Sure, he was a nice enough guy, but she never felt butterflies, and most of the time spent together felt platonic.

  Am I asking too much, she had to wonder. Am I being unreasonable?

  The phone rang again, a more comforting name on the screen. “There he is,” Lorraine said. “The last Queen of Scots.”

  Jeremy Bush laughed, a high-pitched rattle of bubbling amusement. “Off with her head!” Lorraine laughed too, more out of respect or affection than anything else. Jeremy went on, “What’s the sitch, bestie? Coming out tonight?”

  “Jeremy, every night you call me, every night I say no. When are you going to take a hint? I don’t like that whole scene.”

  “Lo’, you gotta get over it.”

  “You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

  “Because you can’t leave it behind. You’ll be totally safe in the club; I’ll stick with you every step of the way.”

  “That’s what you said that night.”

  “Lo’…”

  “I know, I… I don’t blame you, Jer, I don’t. It’s just…y’know, I got this job thing on my mind. I wouldn’t be any fun.”

  After a long, tense silence, Jeremy said, “Is that all that’s on your mind—the library?”

  “Well no, not exactly.”

  “It’s that guy you’re seeing…or not seeing.”

  “I’m seeing him,” Lorraine said. “We’re going out Saturday night.”

  “Why?”

  After a curious moment, Lorraine said, “Excuse me?”

  “Why are you going out with him? You’re not going to sleep with him. Why are you wasting your time and his money?”

  “Jeremy!”

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Lorraine wanted to disagree, to contradict her oldest and dearest gay friend. Unfortunately, he was her smartest friend too. “Just write him a Dear John letter and be done with it—find a guy you could really love.”

  “It’s not that I…and it’s not just Donal, I…yeah, guess I know what you mean. But it’s hard, and Donal’s such a nice guy. I keep feeling like it’s my fault. It can’t be easy, having a platonic relationship like this.”

  “Then why do it? Let him bust your cherry. He’s not some maniac—”

  “No, I know that, I… I do, he’s a very sweet, very gentle person. It’s just…I dunno; it’s hard to explain.”

  “No, it’s not. But you can’t go on the rest of your life being afraid, shutting yourself off from other people. It’s not healthy, it’s not any kind of a life.”

  She stammered for an answer, but just couldn’t find one. But between best friends, no explanations were necessary.

  So Jeremy finally said, “Alright, have it your way. If you change your mind, we’ll be at Sables.”

  “Have fun.”

  Again alone in the quiet of her apartment, Lorraine leaned back into the couch, the television off, the neighbor’s cat Whiskers whining unseen in the distance.

  Lorraine finally had to ask herself, What do I do about Donal? We haven’t been seeing each other for very long, but I can sense he’s growing impatient with me. Should I break my rule of waiting to lose my virginity for the man of my dreams and let him…? I m
ean…will I ever meet the man of my dreams? Maybe it’s crazy to keep waiting. No, I won’t be pressured. It just doesn’t feel right. Then I guess I should write him a Dear John letter, like Jeremy said. Dear John letter—only Jeremy would use such an old-timey phrase. What would a modern version be—a Dear John email?

  Then something occurred to Lorraine—a spark of excitement igniting in the back of her imagination. Wait a minute: a letter…

  Chapter 2

  An Open Letter to My Fellow Citizens of Denver, Colorado, and the Great Nation of the United States of America.

  Greetings, Friends and Fellow Americans,

  I am Lorraine Devonshire of Denver, Colorado. I was born to Lawrence and Sally Devonshire, still married and pillars of the Denver community—my father as an accountant and my mother as a real estate agent. We love each other, we love our community, and we love our country.

  But all of these things, to one degree or another, are at risk.

  I am a librarian at the Hadley branch of the Denver Public Library, and word is that our branch is about to be closed. Furthermore, the entire public library system is at risk. Our local library may seem like a little thing to lose, but it is the next soldier to fall on the frontlines on the battle against ignorance. It’s not just a building but a citadel—a fortress to protect the vaults of history. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World was the Library of Alexandria, and when it was burned, our species lost untold treasures—secrets which now must remain locked, for all time.

  I know that this is Denver, not ancient Alexandria, and that one small building won’t reduce the overall canon of knowledge we’ve accumulated. I don’t mean to overstate it. But the fall of the public library is another sad event in the same chain which links the book burnings of the nineteen-fifties, the suppression of dissent in Europe only decades before that, and the long and gruesome history of tyranny and iron rule that our country, the United States of America, was meant to undo, once and for all.

  But our country has taken a turn, away from liberty and freedom of thought, away from education and science and ecology. Social services are disappearing one by one. The public library may seem like a relic, and maybe it is. But it’s a relic of a time when the government cared about its citizens and provided for them, a time when we all had our place in the family of mankind.

  And what benefit will there be to closing this library, and all public libraries thereafter? A small amount of money will be transferred from one column to another. No other public services will benefit, as they’re also being gutted. And where does that money go?

  That’s really all I ask, friends, that you give this some thought. You may not have visited your public library recently, but maybe you should. When was the last time you held a book in your hands, stumbling upon books you didn’t even know existed? Remember the smell of those paper pages; remember the thrill of youthful discovery? That’s something the internet cannot offer. That’s something our children and all of America forevermore has a right to enjoy.

  What can we do? Write to your congressman and ask for some relief. I have created a petition on the website: usignit.com. Tell the people we pay to run our cities that we’d like to keep our libraries, our histories, our futures.

  Thank you for your time and attention. I remain in your service,

  Lorraine Devonshire

  Sally Devonshire shook her head and took a sip of her martini, her red hair freshly dyed. “I don’t see what you have to gain, dear, that’s all.”

  Lorraine wasn’t sure how to answer, and she didn’t really want to be in the position where she had to. “I had to do something, Mom. It’s the library!”

  “I told you to choose a more practical career path. You could have stuck to that court reporting like I told you, you’d never be out of work.”

  “I’d never be out of the courthouse either,” Lorraine said. “All those crimes, testimonies, people lying under oath, sobbing and breaking down… No, I couldn’t do that every day of my life, Mom. Would you?”

  Sally shrugged, draining the last of her martini glass. “I’m in real estate, dear. What do I know?”

  Larry pulled his newspaper down from in front of his white face and graying brown hair. “Take a stand; I’m proud of you, honey!”

  Larry’s enthusiasm and broad smile was genuine. If there was one thing about him, he always believed in taking a stand for what you believe in.

  “Thanks dad, it means a lot… Maybe you can get Mom to see it from our perspective.”

  Sally shook her head. “I hope you don’t get into too much trouble, that’s all.” A sick little nausea curled in the corner of Lorraine’s belly. I know Mom’s just being her usual pain in the ass, she couldn’t help think, but she’s probably right this time. “Couldn’t you just have signed it anonymous?”

  “I… I guess I could have. But then who would have paid attention?”

  “Nobody,” Sally said. “That’s the point.”

  “That ain’t how we roll, is it, baby girl?” Larry remarked.

  Lorraine couldn’t help but smile, setting a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dad, your support means a lot.”

  Larry smiled. “You know I got your back, Lo’.”

  The next morning, Albert Jenkins wasn’t nearly so supportive. He threw the copy of The Denver Post on Carmen’s little desk in her only slightly larger office. “What were you thinking, Lorraine?”

  Lorraine tried to ignore Carmen’s angry glare and focus on Albert, their mutual boss. “I thought I might raise public awareness—maybe enough people would send letters, sign my petition, and we could save the library. Isn’t that what we all want?”

  Albert shook his big, round head. “Of course it is but…there are protocols, channels; you have to follow certain methods—”—”

  “Bureaucracy, you mean,” she said. “But that’s just what’s going to get us all canned, and run the whole public library system into the ground.”

  “This is no way to deal with it,” Albert said. “I’m afraid you’ve left us with little choice.”

  That nasty little nausea curled in Lorraine’s stomach. “You mean…I’m fired?”

  “Of course you are!”

  Carmen couldn’t seem to keep herself from saying, “Mr. Jenkins, please—”

  But Lorraine asked simply, “What’s the difference? We’re all canned anyway.”

  “But your benefits,” Carmen said, turning to Albert. “Can’t we just pretend this never happened?” But a slow shake of Albert’s head told Carmen and Lorraine what his only answer could be.

  Lorraine looked around at the place which had been her childhood refuge, her adult safe harbor, and her latest source of heartbreak. “Soon enough, we’ll all be able to pretend that none of this ever happened. Our children won’t even know the word library.”

  “Times change, Lorraine,” Albert said. “It’s always better to go along. The tree which survives is the one which bends in the wind, and doesn’t allow itself to be broken by it!”

  Lorraine’s lips twitched; she struggled to hold back words that needed to be heard, words she needed to say. But before she could answer and digest the information, several hard knocks fell on the little office door. Lorraine, Carmen and Albert turned to see the door quiver a bit under another cluster of knocks.

  Albert called, “Come in!”

  Chapter 3

  A tall, handsome man stepped into the office, drawing the air from the room and the breath from Lorraine’s lungs. His dusty-blond hair was slightly feathered, perfectly coifed above his sterling-blue eyes.

  “Hello,” he said in a voice that was strong without being too loud—an authoritative flex to his tone as he extended his hand to Albert. “I’m Griffin Phoenix, visiting from New York.” He glanced back at the door. “The name on the door was Carmen Mendez?”

  Carmen extended her hand and he took it. “I’m Carmen Mendez, chief librarian, this is Lorraine Devonshire, and this is Albert Jenkins, from th
e library commission.”

  But Griffin’s attention was fixed on Lorraine. “Lorraine Devonshire, you’re the person I’ve come to see, actually.”

  Her heart beat just a little faster as she met the gaze of this gorgeous man standing in front of her. She did her best to calm her nerves. “And how may I help you, Mr. Phoenix?”

  “Griffin, please. I came because I’m in town with my son, taking a little skiing holiday, and I read your open letter in the newspaper.” Albert’s eyes shifted from Griffin to Lorraine and back as Griffin went on, “It was quite moving…inspirational, I’d say.”

  “Oh, well, thank you, um, Griffin. You’re very kind to share that,” Lorraine said, blushing.

  “I’m not being kind; it’s true. I didn’t know you’d be so lovely.” A tension filled the little office, but it wasn’t an awkward tension. Nothing about Griffin Phoenix seemed awkward, not in the least. His tall, athletic body was comfortably draped in slacks and a brown leather flight jacket.

  Albert said, “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Phoenix.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Griffin said, pulling out a smartphone and pressing a few buttons on the screen. Lorraine and the others could only watch in perplexed silence as Griffin paused, then said into the phone, “Yeah, this is Griffin Phoenix, I’m calling from the…” He turned to Lorraine, “Which branch is this?”

  “Hadley, on South Grove Street.”

  “The Hadley branch of the Denver Public Library. You wanna go ahead and send somebody down here…? Yeah, and a photographer.… Something like Librarians Letter Saves Library. Yeah, and don’t keep me waiting, eh? I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Griffin swiped the screen and pocketed the phone. He pulled a check out of his wallet and handed the check to Albert. “I suppose this should go to you.”

  Albert unfolded the check and read it, his mouth falling open. “Mister Phoenix, this is a million dollars.”

  Griffin shrugged. “Not enough?”