Leaving Liberty

by Virginia Carmichael

  Daisy stepped forward and yanked on the long handle, pulling it open. “There’s no need to just stand there. Come on in.” She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t help it. She must have looked ridiculous.

  He sounded like he was fighting back laughter. “Sorry. If I’d opened the door, I would have knocked into you. Better to wait until you were done with your…exercise.”

  She glared at him, imagining how bizarre she must have seemed, reaching and squatting, eyes closed and back arched. His lips twitched and despite herself, she started to smile.

  “You’ll have to teach me those moves. Must be something you guys do out there in Fresno.”

  She snorted, trying desperately to get her laughter under control. “Oh, yeah. It’s called wackysthenics.”

  “Excellent. I hope it spreads to every person in Liberty. We could all use a little wacky now and then.” His eyes were crinkled at the corners and the dimples were in sharp relief. He smelled good, like he’d just gotten out of the shower.

  Daisy felt the laughter in her chest tighten into something else and she swallowed hard. “Looking for new reading?” Dumb question. Why else did anyone come to the library?

  “I usually stop by the first week of the summer program.” He held out a small packet of stickers. Gold sheriff’s badges sparkled in the sunlight. “Just to say hi to the kids and make sure they know they can always call us for help.”

  She nodded. She’d never thought of the police as friends when she was young. She’d thought of them as the ones who came when the neighbors called to complain about her dad yelling his head off at all hours of the night. She’d never thought they might be concerned for her or pitied her. As a child, she’d been afraid of the police and everything they stood for.

  “That’s a great idea. Go on down. I’m headed up to the office to grab some instructions I forgot.” She sighed, brushing her bangs back from her face. “I feel like I’m running so far behind schedule. The kids just about had me for breakfast and it’s only the first week.”

  “Did they take a few nibbles before Nita got them in line?” He leaned back against the door, hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked comfortable, happy.

  “They’re sweet kids but…” She chewed her lip, not wanting to be negative. Nita’s comment about her not being the type to raise babies echoed in her head. She liked kids but this group was almost more than she could handle. “The noise. And the chaos. And the crafts. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

  “I can’t think of the last time something was easier than I thought it would be.” His words were light but his tone held a note of something she couldn’t quite define.

  She glanced at him, remembering what he’d said about living in Liberty, surrounded by memories of his brother. “True,” she said, softly. “It’s not about being easy, is it?”

  He didn’t answer. His gaze was locked on hers and an emotion flickered in his eyes that made her suck in a breath. He stepped closer, lifting his hand to tug on the brim of his hat. She noted the habitual movement but didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. There was nothing funny about the beat of silence that stretched between them. For a moment, she could feel him struggling. His expression was raw and completely unguarded. Whether he wanted to speak or wanted to keep silent, she couldn’t tell. In the end, he dropped his gaze to the floor and straightened up. “I better head downstairs.”

  She nodded, her heart in her throat. She watched him descend the narrow stairs to the basement room and forced herself to move toward the office. Lane Bennett had been very close to saying something important. Blindly crossing the first floor to the office, she willed herself to take a few deep breaths. It was nothing. Probably another plea to meet with her father. Or maybe another speech about how the library was a lost cause.

  Snagging the puppet-making instructions off the desk, she straightened her shoulders. It wasn’t anything personal. He was a good cop and a gorgeous man, but that look on his face wasn’t anything to do with her. His expression flashed through her mind and she shoved it away. He’d looked like a man battling against himself, poised between yearning and fear. But she couldn’t imagine what he could have wanted to say.

  ***

  Classic. Lane paused at the juncture in the stairwell and tried to regroup. He had planned to come and visit the kids, clean and simple but what actually occurred was some Twilight Zone version of his real life.

  First, Daisy in the foyer, stretching her gorgeous self like a cat in the sun. He didn’t want to watch, wanted to turn around and head back down the front steps, but in the end he’d stood there with his mouth open like any other warm-blooded male.

  Then he had to stay and talk. He would never learn. If he stayed, he listened. And when he listened, he fell harder and harder for this woman. Everything about her seemed to speak right to the soft underside of him, his weak spots, his middle of the night moments when he wasn’t sure whether he was making a mess of the one life he’d been given or not.

  Right when she’d said it wasn’t about being easy, he’d been struck by the crazy urge to ask her to dinner. He wanted to be with this woman who got him like nobody else did. And that was plain stupid. Just hours ago he was determined to help her reunite with her father, but stay personally as far away as possible. Then he’d forgotten about Rocky. It was all about Lane and his little infatuation.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. It was just a summer. If he could make it through the summer, then she’d go back home and he’d be able to pick up where he’d left off.

  Straightening his back and pasting a smile to his face, he tried to ignore the ache that had bloomed in his chest at the thought of Daisy leaving Liberty. It was the best thing for everybody. Just a few more months and they could all go back to normal.

  ***

  Daisy watched a six foot police officer chat effortlessly with a room full of four year old kids. They didn’t seem to see what she saw: the height, the gun, the cuffs, the uniform. They acted like he was something exciting and fun, not scary in the least.

  “Officer Lane, can I ride in your police car?” Jasmine was talking before her hand was even in the air, huge smile on her little face.

  “Not today but maybe we can have a field trip to the parking lot someday to look inside, if Miss McConnell says it’s all right.” He was squatting, down at their level, hat in hand. His hair was recently trimmed, showing a bit of a tan line on the back of his neck.

  “Do you always catch the bad guys?” A blond-haired little boy wiggled where he sat cross legged on the carpet, his Spiderman T-shirt hanging loosely on his skinny frame.

  “We sure try.” Lane grinned, obviously enjoying the impromptu question and answer session.

  “Can I shoot your gun?” A little guy in the front stood up, as if expecting to receive permission.

  Daisy sucked in a breath. The kid had probably seen so many shows where guns were just a natural part of the plot and everybody got one. She felt a jolt of surprise as Lane waved him forward.

  “Come here, buddy.” He put on knee on the floor and waited for the little boy to come up to the front. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he looked him in the eye. “Some guns are toys and won’t hurt you. Some guns are real and are very dangerous. You should never touch a gun, especially if you don’t know if it’s a real gun or not. If you find one, you should tell an adult right away, okay?”

  The little boy hung his dark head and shrugged. It was obvious from his expression that he’d been expecting to get to at least touch Lane’s service revolver.

  Lane paused, thinking. “Do you drive a car yet?”

  “No! My mom drives the car.”

  “You would never try to drive your mom’s car, right?”

  He shook his head. “I might crash it and hurt myself.”

  “Exactly. Cars are for big people who have a license and know how to use one. It’s the same for guns.”

  His face cleared, as if he wasn’t so upset about not getting
to play with it. “Can I see your handcuffs?”

  Daisy let out a breath as he unhooked the cuffs from his belt and let the boy examine them. He answered those questions so easily. She was used to questions about fish scales and bees and pollination. Not guns.

  Another hand went up. “Do you ever take little kids to jail?”

  Something flickered in his expression and he shook his head. “Never.”

  The room seems to let out collective sigh of relief. Nita walked to the front and said, “Say goodbye to Officer Lane, everybody. We’ll see him again this summer at the last week of the program.”

  “Are you going to get dunked again?” A pig-tailed girl in a bright green jumper raised her hand.

  “Sure. Whatever the library needs, I’m here.” He popped up from his kneeling position, giving one more pat to the little guy who had looked at the handcuffs. “And if you’re ever in trouble or need help, remember to call 9-1-1.” He paused, hand to his ear. “What’s the number?”

  A few kids answered, hesitantly. “9-1-1.”

  “I can’t hear you,” he said, frowning.

  More answered this time, but he pretended he couldn’t hear them. “What?”

  The room seemed to shudder with force of their response. “9-1-1!”

  “Better.” He smiled hugely. “Bye for now.”

  The kids yelled their goodbyes at the same volume and Lane chuckled as he met Daisy in the doorway. “Great group of kids this year.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for coming. What was that about the dunking?”

  He put on his cap and straightened it before responding. She couldn’t help thinking how different he looked, more official and less playful. “Every year we would have an end-of-the-summer fundraiser. I would be in the dunk tank and people would buy tickets to give me a plunge into the cold water.”

  She felt her eyebrows go up in surprise. “I thought you wanted the library to close.”

  He made a sound of exasperation. “I’ve never wanted that. But I do want it to be safe. And selling tickets to dunk a small town cop isn’t going to pay for a new roof and new support beams.”

  “I’m working on a few ideas. I’m not a quitter.”

  He straightened up like she’d slapped him. “Neither am I. But I’m a realist and I think these kids deserve something better than rotting timber.”

  They stood, gazes locked for an infinite beat of time, then his eyes shifted to someone standing behind her. She turned to see Mayor Featherstone standing a few steps above her on the narrow stairway. His gray suit matched his flat gray eyes and his face was fleshy and pale. He didn’t bother to smile. He’d been mayor for so long that he didn’t bother with the usual politician’s palm pressing. At election time there was only one name on the ballot and everybody knew who would win.

  “Lane, I think you’ve been down here long enough. We don’t want to leave our streets unprotected.” He didn’t acknowledge Daisy verbally, but his eyes coasted over her silk top and down to her sandals. “I know you’d prefer to hang out with the pretty substitute librarian, but you’ve got to show you’re part of the team. I’d hate for you to miss out on any more promotions.”

  Daisy had never liked Featherstone, mostly because when she was a teen she didn’t like the way he wore a bad comb-over that barely concealed his shiny bald head. It had been petty and shallow then, but now that she was actually having a conversation with the man, she didn’t see any reason to change her opinion.

  “Yes, sir.” Lane’s voice was calm and he moved to pass Daisy. She could smell his cologne, felt his warmth as he brushed by.

  “Mayor Featherstone, thank you for loaning us Officer Bennett. He really helped the children understand some safety issues today.” It wasn’t much, but her throat was aching at the thought of Lane quietly following the mayor up the stairs as if he was a dog caught in the neighbor’s yard.

  Featherstone grunted. “Marie always had Lane come to the program. No need for us to keep it up. She’s gone and won’t know the difference.” With that he turned and trudged up the stairs, wheezing faintly.

  Lane shot her an apologetic glance and started up the stairs, but Daisy grabbed his hand on impulse. He looked back in surprise, brows raised under his cap. She held on for a moment, feeling the faint callouses on his fingers and the warmth of his palm. She wanted to say she understood, that Featherstone was an idiot, that she admired how Lane was professional at all times, how great he’d been with the kids. He’d lost a promotion because of her drunk father, lost his girlfriend, forgave them both, and still got to hear the nasty reminders from people like Featherstone.

  Lane looked down at their hands, fingers entwined. When his gaze met hers again, his eyes were soft. His lips turned up a bit at the corners, as if he understood what she was trying to say. “We’re on the same side. Right, Daisy?”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  He gently let her fingers slip through his and turned back to the stairs. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her middle. On the same side. How really strange it was, but there was no denying it. Lane, officer of the law and defender of Liberty and Daisy, temporary librarian and reluctant summer resident, were indeed on the same side.

  Daisy surveyed the room of preschoolers and let their excited chatter wash over her. Nita passed out sheets of coloring pages, her gray head bent close to hear a small girl with a band aid on her nose. He’d been generous with his time and his friendship. He acted as if he didn’t have time to be bitter or to wallow in the past. Daisy considered, just for a moment, if Lane was right about Rocky. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. She didn’t have to see him around forever. Just one meeting to let the man say his piece, then he’d be happy and she could feel like she’d done the right thing.

  Maybe. Maybe not. She shook off the thought and strode into the room. She wasn’t ready. She would cross the bridge when she came to it. Right now, she had a program to run and a library to save.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daisy stretched her arms over her head and wished it was Friday. Not that she had any plan for the weekend, but this particular Monday was living up to its reputation. The grant applications were still pending, the fund-raising was barely off the ground and there was a whole week of summer reading program classes to wade through. It had finally stopped raining so her bike ride into town today had been a lot more comfortable than the last few trips. The creek was swollen to the very top of its banks but maybe that was the last of the rain and they could settle into a real summer. It was late June and it seemed like summer had barely even started.

  Chet’s inspection was thorough but his estimate for repairs had made her heart stop in her chest when she’d seen the number of zeros. Reality was a killer. Daisy had hoped, just for a week or two, that maybe the library wasn’t in that bad of a state. No doubt about it. Lane had been right all along.

  She glanced down at the contractor’s repair sheet and Lane’s face flashed through her mind for the tenth time that morning. After that day on the stairs, she’d tried to keep her mind off the handsome cop, but it had been an utter failure. Finally, she’d decided that a few thoughts wouldn’t hurt anybody and physical avoidance was key. But not even an hour later he’d walked through the library door looking for a good book. And in the next week she’d seen him at Nancy’s coffee shop, the grocery store, and passed him on the sidewalk. Each time he’d smiled, even stopped to chat, and her heart had reacted like it had taken a shot of adrenaline.

  By this morning, she’d finallygiven up and just admitted that she was crushing on Lane. It hadn’t made the reality any easier, but maybe if she just accepted that fact, he wouldn’t seem so attractive. He’d never know, anyway.

  It was definitely the lure of forbidden fruit. She’d known plenty of men in Fresno who could compete with Lane’s looks and were much more successful. Maybe even a few who could match his strong character. Daisy bit her lip, stalled in the middle of her own argument. To be fair, she hadn�
�t known any as kind or as faithful. Forbidden fruit didn’t completely explain what she felt. Lane was so much more than a small-town cop. He was faithful and loyal and honorable. And she liked his dog. Daisy sighed. She even missed Sammy.

  She rubbed the ache that had started above her eyes and crossed off a few more names on her fundraising list. Noontime sun blazed through the small office window and landed squarely on Daisy’s back as she dialed the next number. She gripped the phone tighter and focused on the wall, planning her words. She couldn’t imagine why Marie’s desk faced the wall, but it was six weeks after she’d arrived and it was still in that same position. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling the sweat at the back of her neck combining with a particularly scratchy tag. No answer on the other end, until a machine picked up. It was a Monday through and through.

  “Thank you for letting me know you won’t be able to donate to our fundraising effort. If you change your mind about supporting our renovation project, I would be happy to go give you a tour of the library.” Daisy smiled her way through another depressing phone message and then broke the connection with a sigh. It was one thing to ask for money and another to be turned down. It was a whole different universe to call up the person and give them a cheery speech disguised as one last chance at a donation.

  Daisy dropped her head into her hands. This morning was a total loss. Not a single donation and she’d been stuck in the office for hours on the first clear day in weeks. It would be great if she had a tiny coffee machine in Marie’s office. If she emerged into the lounge area, Nita and the girls might ask if there had been any progress. And there was nothing good to report.

  Daisy rolled her head from side to side, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t a quitter, but she had to take a break. There were only so many times a girl could handle rejection before she needed chocolate. She balanced the pen between her fingers and beat a staccato rhythm against the desk. Maybe it was hard for everybody, but she felt sick to her stomach when she asked for money. It reminded her of so many years when she’d had to ask for what other kids had handed to them.