Bigfoot and the Librarian

by Linda Winstead Jones

“You didn’t ask, I offered.” He made it sound like a done deal. “Mind if I have a bite to eat first?” He headed for the bar. “I’m starving.”

  She would never say so, but she did mind. A little. She was so eager to get out of here and on into town! She didn’t know what awaited her in Mystic Springs, but it was sure to be better than this. There had to be a shower in her new house, and goodness knows she could use one. Was that why her knight in shining plaid had offered help so quickly? Did she look that bad? She was the picture of sweat and desperation. Oh, God, she probably smelled terrible.

  It would be impolite to tell him his supper had to wait, so she muttered a soft, “Sure.”

  Marnie wondered if she dared to tell this man, or anyone else, what she’d seen as she’d walked down the road. Already she was blaming exhaustion, the heat, and frustration. She’d seen something, that was the truth, but Bigfoot? Impossible. No, an animal had crossed her path, that was all. Maybe a bear. Or a big dog. The early summer heat combined with stress had her hallucinating.

  “My name’s Marnie,” she said, taking a step and limping, just a little. Her heels were not meant for running, not even the short distance she’d run back toward this terrible place before settling on a fast walk. “Marnie Somerset.”

  He looked back and smiled at her. Jeez. Did he have to have a great smile in addition to everything else? “I’m Clint. You look like you could use something to eat, too. Join me?”

  She doubted the guy behind the bar would even know what a salad was, much less have one in the kitchen. And if he did, would she want to eat it? Probably not. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” To immediately prove her a liar, her stomach growled.

  Again, that smile. “The usual for me, Harry, and a half club and fries for the lady.”

  “Coming up.” Harry, the rude one, disappeared into a kitchen where he called out the order to… someone.

  Marnie gave up, in more ways than one. She limped a few steps and slid onto the bench seat of a booth not far from the bar where the two middle-aged unbearably rude men sat chatting in lowered voices. About her? Probably. She didn’t care.

  Clint slid in across from her. “What brings you out this way?” he asked. “Lost?”

  He had asked that right away, and she’d never answered. Marnie shook her head. “I’m not lost at all, I’m the new Mystic Springs librarian. I’m supposed to start work tomorrow.”

  Was it her imagination that he drew back from her? No smile, no “welcome to town” no… well, no nothing, other than a suspicious narrowing of his eyes. Blue eyes, she noted. Not that she should note anything.

  Harry appeared with two tall glasses of ice water and a scowl. When he was gone, Clint continued, “We’re not easy to find. How did you end up here?”

  Marnie shrugged, then took a long swig of the water. The ice Harry had neglected to add to her water the first time around made all the difference. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was! When she’d drained half the glass, she set it down, sighed in delight, and answered. “The library in Birmingham where I’ve been for the past two years had a massive layoff, and I was one of the casualties. I was checking out the want ads and found a listing for the job in Mystic Springs. Since it comes with a place to live, it seemed perfect.” She was beginning to think maybe it was not quite so perfect, after all.

  She squared her shoulders. There was nothing that said she had to stay in Mystic Springs. She’d show up, she’d do her job, she’d give it her best the same way she gave everything her best. If the library was no better than this place, and if the patrons were no friendlier than Harry and his customers, she’d start looking for a new position ASAP.

  As an older and attractive — and unlike her boss, smiling — woman who’d been hiding in the kitchen all this time delivered their plates, Marnie realized how hungry she really was. The half club and fries were perfect, even though she didn’t normally eat bread or fries. Carbs and short women never got along well.

  Clint’s plate of food was impressive. Not one, but two thick burgers. Fries and onion rings. A big bowl of coleslaw. And the waitress, cook, whatever she was said, as she walked away, “I’ll get y’all some more water, and I’ll have your pie out in a jiffy.”

  Pie? On top of all that? Now she admired his metabolism as well as his eyes and, well, everything else.

  Marnie relaxed a little. Attractive as Clint was, as ripped and chiseled and manly, he was no Mr. Darcy. Before too many years passed, he was going to have a pot belly. He’d probably be bald, too, she threw in for good measure as she whipped a fry through a pile of ketchup on her plate.

  God, she had forgotten how good fries were.

  For a few moments they both just ate. No talking was necessary as they got down to business. The sandwich was surprisingly good, and Clint seemed to enjoy his burgers well enough.

  Hunger somewhat abated, Marnie took a long drink of water and tried to start up a conversation.

  “Are you from Mystic Springs?” she asked.

  Clint nodded once. Naturally he was the strong and silent type.

  “I had never even heard of Mystic Springs, before I saw the job advertised,” she said. “Though there are a lot of small towns I’ve never heard of, I imagine.”

  This time he shrugged.

  She did not, would not, give up. “What can you tell me about the town?” Ha. Let him come up with one word or a gesture to answer that question.

  He looked directly at her, those blue eyes almost electric, his jaw set. And then he said, in a lowered voice,

  “You won’t like it.”

  Chapter 2

  Clint took his time changing Marnie Somerset’s tire, by the light of a battery-operated lantern he kept in his truck, which was currently parked on the side of the road behind hers. She’d seemed grateful when he’d offered her a ride to her car. As if he would’ve made her walk. He could’ve had the job done in ten minutes flat, but he kept stopping to look at her. He stalled, because… hell, he didn’t know why.

  Squatting down to tighten the lug nuts, he glanced to the side. Her fine legs were right there, so close he could reach out and touch them, though of course he did not. What the hell was a pretty girl like this one doing here? She was a far cry from the previous librarian, in more ways than one.

  “I’m afraid you won’t find Mystic Springs very exciting,” he said as he finished up and stood.

  She shrugged. “I’m not necessarily looking for exciting.”

  He leaned casually against the side of her car. “What are you looking for?”

  Her chin lifted, she looked him in the eye. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

  “Don’t expect much in the way of entertainment. Mystic Springs is a quiet place. We have lots of senior citizens in town,” he added. “The town isn’t what it once was, but they hang on. Remembering better days, I guess. Most of the younger folks have left town.” She wouldn’t fit in at all. Let her chew on that a while.

  “You’re not a senior citizen,” she said with a smile.

  “No, but I have been known to hang on longer than I should.”

  The smile turned into a pleasant laugh. He felt that laugh up the length of his spine.

  Why was he trying to convince her to leave town before she’d even made it all the way in? She was pretty, she was interesting.

  She was bound to be trouble. Strangers always were.

  Marnie stopped laughing; her smile faded. She bit her lip for a second or two and turned her head to look into the dark woods. “Have you ever…” Again, she bit her lip.

  “Have I ever what?” he prompted.

  “Nothing. Never mind. The stress of having a flat tire and the heat have just made me a little crazy. That’s all.”

  He started to tell her she wasn’t crazy at all, but thought better of it. It would be best if she started her short time as Mystic Springs librarian thinking she was delusional. It might help later on.

  She looked down the dark road. “So,
straight ahead until I hit…”

  “Main Street,” he said when she faltered. “Take a right. The library is four blocks down on your left.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck with your new job,” he said, opening her car door for her, watching as she started the car, rolled down her window and poked her head out to thank him again, and drove away.

  Clint climbed into his pickup and followed her for a short distance. Not too closely, but close enough. He turned onto a side road before Marnie reached town, even though he was tempted to make sure she got where she was going without further delay. He had learned not to give into temptation. It never worked out well. After he made the turn he took a familiar route, past houses dark and well-lit then onto a narrow dirt road just wide enough for this vehicle, to the gravel driveway of his cabin home.

  He didn’t go inside the cabin after parking the truck. Instead he lifted his head, took a long draw of sweet summer air, and stripped off his clothes.

  And then he ran.

  Would it be rude to start sending out resumes before she’d even started her new job? She had a few hours…

  Marnie gripped the steering wheel tighter than was necessary and leaned slightly forward. She couldn’t see much of Mystic Springs downtown as she drove slowly along the narrow main street toward her destination. By the time Clint had changed her tire — he hadn’t even worked up a sweat — and given her directions to the library, it had been well past dark. The councilwoman who had hired her had given her simple directions by email, but Marnie was grateful to have those instructions verified. It wasn’t long at all before she found herself on Main Street.

  Clint’s truck had been behind her for a while, as she made her way to town, but at some point he’d turned off. Either that or he drove much more slowly than she did and had fallen way behind, which was unlikely.

  Very few lights shone along the way, though she could see evidence of life down side streets to the west, on and around the quaint homes which all seemed to be on that side of downtown proper. Streetlights and front porch lights offered her a dimly lit view of moderate sized homes. Many of them looked older — fifty years or more, she would guess — but were well maintained from all she could tell. Houses yellow and white, pale blue and red brick. She caught sight of a few very large flowering bushes.

  Some of the downtown spaces were completely dark, but there were a few lights there as well. Police. Ice cream. A small grocery store. If she’d turned left instead of right she would’ve run into a small gas station. She saw it in her rearview mirror. All was dark there, too. While there were some lights here and there, there was no discernible activity. She was surprised. It wasn’t that late.

  Clint had warned her that there was a large senior citizen population. Maybe everyone ate at four and went to bed at seven.

  To the east things were mostly dark, though she did pass a few short side streets that seemed dimmer than those to the west. The river was on that side of town, on the other side of thick woods. Those woods were completely dark at this time of night. What might be hiding there? Sasquatch? Bears?

  The library, which was naturally on the dark side of town, was lit with nothing more than a single bulb near the front door, but at least it was a bright bulb. The front door was glass; the building itself was two stories and constructed of red brick.

  There was no other traffic on the street, so Marnie slowly hit the brakes, put her car in park, and opened her purse to draw out the directions to her house.

  Naturally, it called for a turn to the left. East. She’d remembered that, but after the stress of the day she wanted to be sure. And yes, she’d recalled the directions correctly, which meant that her house was on the dark side of town. Great.

  She drove much more slowly than was necessary. One block past the library, left, then half a block down there it was. Her new home. Well, home for now.

  Thank goodness, lights were burning. A bright porch light, as well as at least one inside. Marnie parked in the short driveway, grabbed her overnight bag and laptop case from the back seat, and headed for the front door.

  The house was white, the front door dark green. Well-tended flowers bracketed the steps, which squealed a bit as she walked up them. Three steps. The porch squealed, too, but it was an oddly comforting, homey squeal. Home. Yes, this cottage — dark side of town or not — could definitely be home, at least for a while.

  As Susan Tisdale had promised, the key to the door was under the mat. So much for security.

  Marnie unlocked and opened the front door, and for a moment forgot the adventures she’d had making her way here. The interior of her new home was as charming as the exterior. More so, if that was possible. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag, and was unexpectedly washed in a feeling of coming home.

  It was a small house with a living room — a parlor, she imagined it had always been called — just inside the front door. Her own furnishings had been placed there, along with a few other things. Her couch and matching chair; an ornate coffee table; her knick-knacks on a gleaming walnut bookcase, where some of her books had been mixed with others that had perhaps been left by the previous owner. A padded chair to one side was not hers, but it matched her furniture and suited the room. Fresh flowers, pink and lavender and pale yellow, had been placed in a vase on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  She could get used to this.

  One cookie in hand, it only took a moment to explore the house. The kitchen was in the very back, and beyond that was a screened-in back porch. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to see what the back yard looked like. It was dark, and she had no desire for another minute of adventure, not even exploring her own back yard. Not tonight. She did wonder if there was, perhaps, a flower garden there. It would definitely be proper for a place like this one. Not that she was much of a gardener. Already she had a plan, of sorts. She could learn to change tires and plant flowers.

  Not that watching Clint change her tire for her had been a chore. That man had muscles. And a nice butt. Oh, those arms…

  Because she needed to get distracted by a good-looking guy on her first day in town. She did her best to put him out of her mind. There. Done. He was out. Well, kinda.

  The kitchen was nicely equipped and well-stocked. There was milk, butter, sliced ham, and eggs in the fridge, oatmeal and raisins and sugar in the pantry. Her own small collection of pots and pans had been stored, her dishes were in the cupboard. In another cupboard there were canned soups, bread, crackers, everything she might need for at least a couple of days.

  Sitting next to the coffee maker was a welcoming note from the woman who had hired her, along with a key to the library. Susan Tisdale must be the one responsible for putting the house in order before Marnie arrived. She’d done a fantastic job. The note even included the Wi-Fi password. Ms. Tisdale had forgotten nothing.

  The house had two bedrooms and one very nice bath, both on the right side of the house. Her bed had been set up in the back bedroom, which was the largest of the two, and a handful of unpacked boxes were stored in the second bedroom, which faced the street. Not only had her bed been set up, it was made. Her own towels hung on a rack in the bathroom.

  All she had to do was shower, put on her pajamas, and crawl into bed. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, she’d check out the library.

  First impressions of Mystic Springs aside, if it was even half as charming as this house, she might never leave.

  It didn’t take long for the light in the back bedroom window to come on. Why in hell had Susan put Marnie in this house? Was she asking for trouble? Looking for it? That wasn’t like Susan. She was a peacemaker, had always been the voice of reason in unreasonable times.

  Clint had followed Marnie’s scent here, latching onto it and seeking her out, unable to take the chance that he might not see her at least one more time. When strangers came to town they had a tendency not to stay long.

&nbs
p; When he’d realized which house she was in, well, he’d been surprised. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation, but he couldn’t bring one to mind.

  He asked himself, not for the first time tonight, what the hell Susan had been thinking when she’d gone outside the community for a librarian. True, there were a few Non-Springers in town. It was impossible to keep them out. In most cases they didn’t stay long, spooked by things they could not explain, feeling like outsiders — which they were — moving on after a short while to places populated with normal people like themselves. A handful had stayed on, either oblivious or accepting, though there were hardcore Springers who would love to send them all packing.

  The most militant of the Springers — those who had the blood of the ancestors who’d originally populated Mystic Springs — had gone so far as to scare nosy Non-Springers out of town, on occasion. A couple of them had been difficult to scare, and had discovered the town’s secret.

  The activities director at The Mystic Springs Retirement Village for the Exceptionally Gifted was a Non-Springer, and so was Mike Benedict’s wife. They both knew the truth about this place — how could they not after seeing as much as they had? — and they kept the secret as well as any Springer. They were accepted by most, and would never betray the secrets that abounded here.

  But they would always and forever be Non-Springers.

  There were a handful of others who’d wandered in and stayed. They either didn’t notice the oddities or else didn’t care. A new hairdresser. An employee at the grocery store. A couple of retirees who’d been looking to spend their later years in a small, quiet town and had stumbled across the place and a real deal on a nice little house not far from the river. They saw only what they wanted to see, as so many people tended to do.

  Mystic Springs was definitely small. It was not so quiet, though.

  Someone always kept an eye on these Non-Springers, waiting for the day when they began to notice the magic all around them.