by Ann McMan
Syd moaned in appreciation. “God . . . you weren’t kidding. This is amazing.”
Maddie smiled at her. “Glad you think so. I’m kind of a coffee snob.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Actually, I’m just kind of a snob. Or, at least, that’s what most of the locals seem to think.”
“I confess that I worried about that same thing when I came up here to interview for the library position. I wondered if my outlier status might cause problems for me.”
Maddie regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “Well, my best advice is to do whatever you can to avoid being isolated. It’s easy for that to happen here—especially if you’re not from the area.” She paused. “I’ve had my own struggles with that since coming back. It can be lonely.”
“I think it might be even harder in my case. I came here from Durham, but I’m not even from the South.”
Maddie nodded. She remembered the weekend that the interviews for Syd’s position had taken place. She had been out of town at a conference. “I noticed your conspicuous lack of accent. Where are you from originally?”
“Baltimore.”
Pete chose that moment to stand up and walk to their blanket. He was still ringing-wet from his sojourn in the river. Maddie sat up defensively. “Uh oh. Take cover. Here comes Lighthorse Harry.”
Syd laughed as she drew her legs in closer. Pete flopped to the ground right in front of them and continued to chew contentedly on his tennis ball. Syd ran her hand along his thick, yellow coat. “He really is beautiful. Have you had him long?”
“Just since coming back here. He was my dad’s dog.” Maddie scrubbed his head affectionately. “He’s a good boy. Great company. I love having him—it’s like still having a bit of my father with me.”
“I can understand that.” Syd drained her coffee cup and glanced at her watch. She sighed regretfully. “I suppose I should get on with it. I’m scheduled to meet the county supervisor in an hour to pick up my keys.”
Maddie nodded. She recalled that there was a tiny manager’s apartment over the old storefront facility the state had leased to house the new library. “I should get rolling, too. I need to be in Charlotte before five.”
They stood up together and folded the blanket. Pete raced ahead of them toward the Jeep, sensing where they were headed and not wanting to be left behind. After Maddie stowed the blanket and thermos, she opened the tailgate of the Jeep, and Pete jumped in. He still held the tennis ball in his mouth.
Syd patted his blond head. “So long, handsome. You enjoy the rest of your ride.”
Maddie closed the tailgate and turned to her. “Best of luck with the rest of your move.” She extended her hand, and Syd shook it warmly. “I hope we see each other again.”
Syd smiled. “Oh, just brew a pot of coffee, and I’ll come and find you.” She released her hand and pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket. “I really can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me today. You were an absolute lifesaver.”
“It was my pleasure. Be safe now.”
“You, too.” Syd turned back to her car. “So long.”
Maddie gave her a casual wave as she climbed into her Jeep. “Bye.”
In seconds, they both were underway. Maddie was aware of Syd’s Volvo following along behind her for several miles, until she reached the I-74 turnoff in Wilson. Syd blew her horn as she rolled on past the turn and headed on her way toward the tiny hamlet of Jericho.
Chapter 2
Syd had visited the new Jericho Branch Library twice before, but this time was different. Today it was real. As she drove through the Jericho downtown area, she noticed a moderate amount of activity at a corner service station and convenience mart. Several cars and pickups competed for parking spaces out front. Teenage boys, out for the evening in trucks and obvious family sedans, leaned against their cars, smoking cigarettes and loudly calling out to a group of bored-looking young women clustered by the door to the market. A neon sign in the window advertised “Pizza” and “Video Rentals.” Innocuously taped below the neon was a hand-lettered placard promoting $24.95 oil changes and stating that this was an Official Virginia Inspection Station.
A Firestone tire dealer was located next door to the mini-mart, and Syd decided that she would venture back on Monday and drop off her damaged tire for repairs.
The rest of the town was fairly quiet. It contained one or two shallow side streets with a litter of small houses, a consolidated school comprised mostly of modular units linked by aluminum-covered walkways, two Baptist churches, a Laundromat annexed to a used appliance dealer, a barbecue restaurant (closed), a hardware store, several auto body shops, and a Volunteer Fire Department.
There was no doctor’s office, no bank, no newspaper, and until now, no public library.
“What’s it like?” Her mother asked, when Syd called with the news of her successful appointment.
“What? The library?”
“Yes, for a start.”
Syd tried for a moment to see the bedraggled structure through her mother’s eyes. “I think you’d say that it lacks refinement.”
“And the town?”
“Town?”
Her mother feigned exasperation. “The area, then.”
“Um . . . somewhat rustic. Not the usual sort of sleepy southern hamlet profiled in Country Living.”
There was a pause. The telephone line hissed quietly. “Margaret, how small is this place?”
Syd sighed. No matter how much time or distance intervened, her mother steadfastly refused to call her by her childhood nickname. “Well, to boil the whole of Western civilization down to its least common denominator, the nearest McDonald’s is about twenty miles away.”
Twenty miles, Syd mused as she pulled into the parking lot beside the low, brick and block storefront, its new tin roof blazing in the late afternoon sun. It might as well be a million. But this back country area of Southwest Virginia, with its virtual anonymity, seemed exactly in keeping with her present state of mind. During her first visit to the area, she was captivated by the landscape. A string of tiny Main Street communities, ringed by ragged-looking farms, spread out along the perimeter of the hazy, brooding Blue Ridge Mountains. The towns, like the people who lived in them, seemed to imitate every dip and sag of the terrain. Faded, weary, worn down by time and the elements, but still hinting at former grandeur and elegance.
In fact, the eighteen-month posting, funded by a grant from the State Library Association, offered just the sort of programmed existence Syd thought she needed. She always preferred to keep the number of options in her life pared down—making decisions was not one of her strong suits. Now, in the wake of a failed marriage, she was willing to hand the immediate superintendence of her life over to the Commonwealth of Virginia. For the next year and a half, while she attempted to sort through the carnage of her personal life, she would lend herself to the citizens of Southwest Virginia.
She had no keys yet to explore the inside, but external improvements were obvious. The brick walls had been freshly painted in bright white, and some enterprising volunteer had built and installed two large window boxes on the front of the building. These planters were choked with bronze-colored chrysanthemums, all craning their springy, fat heads toward the sunny side of the building. A new hand-painted, wooden sign over the door proclaimed that this building was now the Jericho Public Library. In smaller type across the bottom, the sign painter had added, “Highest library in the Commonwealth of Virginia.”
A small door wedged between the library façade and the upholstery shop next door led to the tiny furnished, upstairs apartment that would be her home for the next year and a half. Syd glanced up at the big windows of the library that faced out onto the street. The front of the building was in shade, so at least the sun wouldn’t be in her eyes in the evenings. There were empty window boxes beneath the upstairs windows as well, and she supposed she could fill those with mums to complement the library plantings at street level.
The w
indow blinds had all been carefully closed, so Syd had no idea how much of her initial inventory had arrived. Behind the building, next to a sagging back porch, an impressive tower of corrugated boxes, broken down for ease of removal, looked promising. She wouldn’t really know what awaited her inside until after she met the county supervisor at the courthouse in Jefferson to get her keys and formally assume her position.
Syd had two months before the formal opening of the branch—two months to appoint the interior, unpack, organize, and shelve the meager initial collection, set up her cataloging and circulation systems, recruit and train volunteers and prepare her first acquisitions budget for the state library board.
“Oh, yeah,” she pondered. “Grad school really prepared me for this.”
She walked toward her car and looked across the vacant lot next to the library at the tiny Jericho Post Office. The sun appeared to be on a collision course with the peaked roof of the building. Already, the flat tire and her brief respite on the riverbank had eaten away a good portion of the afternoon. Now, her side trip to visit the library before heading on into Jefferson ensured that when she unloaded the car for the second time that day, it would be in the dark.
ROMA JEAN FREEMANTLE was a godsend. The redheaded sixteen-year-old volunteered in the branch two afternoons a week after school. In exchange for her practicum with Syd, she earned course credit toward a general business requirement. The vivacious teenager was a hard worker and always very punctual. With Roma Jean as a willing emissary, Syd quickly became enmeshed in the daily lives—and loves—of her new neighbors. Friends of Roma Jean’s had a tendency to drop by the library—even on days she wasn’t working. Syd got to know them all, and it became clear that the tiny Jericho branch library would quickly evolve into a hub of social activity once its doors formally were opened.
On Monday afternoon, Roma Jean and her BFF Jessie were helping Syd shift stacks of reference materials from her processing area to the front of the building where she had set up study tables and a makeshift computer lab. The two girls carried on an unceasing dialogue while they carried stacks of books and manuals up to Syd, who then carefully arranged them on designated shelves.
“That’s like the tenth time they’ve driven by here in the last hour.” Roma Jean sounded exasperated as she plopped six volumes of the Britannica Macropaedia onto an oak study table and looked out the big front window toward the street. A vintage black Chevy Nova with shiny silver rims slowly rolled past the building, then gunned its engine at the corner and roared along down the rest of the street.
Jessie’s frizzy brown hair bounced around her face as she nodded. “Losers. They’re supposed to be at football practice.”
“Not today. Jason got hurt on Friday, and they had to take him to Dr. Stevenson’s office. He’s been benched for a week.” Roma Jean huffed. “What a jerk.”
Jessie laughed as she pushed up her red-framed glasses. “You’re just jealous that he had an excuse to go over there.”
Roma Jean shot an anxious look at Syd. “Shut up, Jessie. You’re nuts.” She turned abruptly and huffed her way to the back of the building to pick up another stack of books.
Jessie rolled her eyes at Syd and turned to follow Roma Jean.
Syd gazed at the two girls with amusement, then stood up and looked out the front window in time to see the black Nova slowly making its way past again. Smiling, she walked forward and waved at the two boys inside the car. They saw her looking at them and quickly jerked their heads away. They gunned the engine so the car lurched forward and squealed as it sped off. It didn’t come around again.
The phone rang, and Syd walked to the circulation desk to answer it.
“Jericho Public Library.”
“Miss Murphy?” It was Edna Freemantle. “Is Roma Jean still there? She forgot to pick up my shopping list this morning, and I need her to run by Food Bonanza on her way home tonight.”
“Hello, Edna.” She paused. “Please, call me Syd.” She craned her neck toward the back of the building. “Sure, she’s still here. She and Jessie are in the back. Let me get her for you.”
Syd laid the receiver down and walked to the processing area to fetch Roma Jean. Before she got to the doorway, she overheard the two girls in hushed conversation.
“Don’t say crap like that in front of her. I don’t want her thinking stuff like that about me. What if she said something to my parents?” Roma Jean sounded desperate.
“Look. I said I was sorry . . . what do you want from me?” Jessie held her hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so upset if it isn’t true.”
Syd cleared her throat. “Roma Jean. Your mom’s on the phone for you.” She smiled at the girls and turned around to walk back to the front of the building. Teenagers. God.
She snagged a large mailing tube and a box of thumbtacks off the circulation desk as she walked past it and headed to the main entrance. The tube contained several oversized ALA posters that featured colorful photos of pop culture icons happily engaged with their favorite books.
Syd unrolled the posters and placed books on their corners to hold them open while she decided where to hang them. Cesar Milan, Danica Patrick, and Shaquille O’Neal all gazed back at her from the tabletops. Thinking that the posters would look good arranged around the street door, she drug a low step stool over and stood atop it on tiptoes to see how high she could reach without having to commandeer a ladder.
Not high enough. She sighed as she started to climb back down, but jumped at the sound of a car horn, followed by the loud roar of an engine. As she lost her footing and slipped to the floor, she saw a flash of black speed past the front door.
“Damn it.” She tried to catch herself, but only succeeded in twisting her left ankle as it tangled up beneath the stool. She landed in an untidy heap on the floor as blinding jolts of pain shot up her left leg.
Roma Jean and Jessie raced to her side.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Roma Jean asked.
They bent over her in concern.
Syd struggled into a sitting position and tried to straighten out her left leg. “I fell off the stool.” She winced as she moved her foot. “I think I might have sprained my ankle.” She pulled herself up and sat down heavily on one of the straight chairs arranged around the nearest table. She grimaced in pain. “Damn it. I’m so stupid.”
Roma Jean pulled out another chair so Syd could prop her leg up. “Wow. It’s already starting to get swollen. We’d better take you to Dr. Stevenson’s office right away.”
Jessie looked up at her in amazement. “Jeez. You might wait like two seconds before you invent a reason to go flying over there.”
“Shut up. Just go and get the car.” She gestured at Syd’s outstretched leg. “Look at her ankle. It’s really swelling.”
Syd raised a placating hand. “Girls, please. Give me a minute to catch my breath, okay?” She could feel her pulse pounding—every heartbeat sent answering echoes of pain up her leg. She knew Roma Jean was right, and that she probably needed an x-ray. “Where is this doctor’s office, anyway?”
“Oh, I can drive you there,” Roma Jean said. “It’s no problem at all. It’s only about ten minutes from here—right on the road to Jefferson.” She waved her hand toward the single road that led out of town.
Syd thought about it. The branch opening was only three weeks away, and she still had tons of inventory to catalog and shelve. She didn’t want to waste any of their precious volunteer hours. She looked up into Roma Jean’s earnest brown eyes. “I really appreciate the offer, but it would help me more if you and Jessie stayed on here and kept working. I can drive myself with no problem.”
“But, Miss Murphy, you can’t drive with that ankle,” Roma Jean said. “I can take you, and Jessie can stay on here until we get back.”
Jessie looked at her in surprise and dismay. “Hey, that’s not fair. You’re supposed to drop me off at Mrs. Jenkins’s house on the way home. My mom’ll kill me if I miss another lesson.”
<
br /> Roma Jean looked at Jessie like she wanted to strangle her.
“Girls, really,” Syd said in a firm voice. “Stay and finish your work. Roma Jean—your mom needs you to do her shopping on the way home.” She struggled to her feet. “Just help me to my car, and I’ll be fine.” She paused to smile at them as they huddled around her in concern. “Thanks for your help. I really don’t know how I’d manage without the two of you.”
They smiled shyly as they helped her hobble to the back door. Syd dropped Jessie’s arm to grab her purse and keys off the corner of the circulation desk. She stepped outside and grasped the sturdy railing that led down the rear steps. “I think I have it from here, girls. Just be sure you lock the door behind you if you leave before I get back.”
Smiling through her pain, she descended the steps and awkwardly climbed into her car. Roma Jean and Jessie continued to stand at the top of the steps and gaze dejectedly at her as she slowly pulled out of the parking lot and began the short drive to the doctor’s office.
BY THE TIME Syd reached New River Family Medicine, her ankle had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. She feared that it might be fractured, or at least badly sprained, and seriously began to despair over her ability to finish preparations for the library opening.
Roma Jean had been right—the clinic was easy to spot. It was situated on a pretty piece of land on a bend in the road just on the outskirts of Jefferson—the county seat. There was only one other car in the gravel parking lot. As she limped toward the entrance to the small, brick clinic, she wondered if she had been foolish to refuse Roma Jean’s offer of support. The slightest bit of weight on her left side sent white-hot bolts of pain surging up her leg. She felt like the cross-trainer on her foot would soon burst its seams. A white painted sign next to the entrance read M. H. Stevenson, M.D., and listed the clinic hours. Grimacing, she pushed open the door and limped inside.