by Wilder, L.
Alex
I can still remember that first day when I’d come rushing into Hallie’s Books and More to get out of the rain. I was just hoping to catch my breath and dry off, but from the second I walked through the door, I knew I’d stumbled upon something special. I took a step back to inhale that comforting scent of vanilla, then glanced around the room at all the different seating areas scattered amongst the many shelves of books. There were fresh flowers on the tables and beautiful watercolors hanging on the walls, which made the place feel inviting—like the owner actually wanted you to stay a while. I had no idea if that was her true intention, but that’s exactly what I was planning to do as I removed my raincoat and started to look for a place to rest my aching feet. I headed towards the back of the store, relieved to find a small sitting area off to itself. Without even looking at the title, I grabbed a book off the shelf and went to sit down on the rustic sofa. I lowered my bag to the floor, and as soon as I sat down, my entire body melted into the soft cushions. Even in my frazzled state, I immediately started to relax. At first I thought it was just the calming ambiance of the store, but then I realized there was another reason.
I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there pretending to read when I heard a lady’s gentle voice say, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone who was interested in the mystical words of Shelley.”
Having no idea what she was talking about, I glanced up at the attractive, older woman with a look of confusion and asked, “Sorry. Words of who?”
A knowing smile spread across her face as she answered, “Mary Shelley. The author of Frankenstein … The book you’ve been reading for the past hour.”
I glanced down at the book in my hand and grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I just wasn’t thinking.”
“She’s always been one of my all-time favorites.” While I’d never laid eyes on her before, there was something familiar about her, making me feel instantly at ease. Her gray hair was pulled up into a loose bun, and she was wearing a long purple-and-white, tie-dyed hippie dress with open-toed sandals. She had a wrist full of bangles that jingled whenever she moved and eyes that were as blue as the ocean. “But then … I have many favorites. My love for books is why I opened this bookstore.”
“This is your place?”
“Has been since the day it opened twenty years ago. Granted, things have changed a lot since then, especially with all the bigger bookstores popping up on every corner.”
“This place is amazing. Those chain stores can’t begin to compare to yours. Not even close.”
“You are sweet to say that, but lately my sales are telling me something different.”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice, and I found myself wanting to help find a solution. Having no clue what I was talking about, I suggested, “You could always try buying and selling used books. That was a big thing back in my home town.”
She cocked her eyebrow and replied, “Hmmm … You know, that’s not a bad idea.”
“You never know. It might be worth a try.”
“I guess it’s something to think about.” She pondered the thought for a moment, then asked, “So, are you new in town? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts before.”
“Yes, ma’am. I just got here a few days ago.”
“Well, welcome to Memphis. You need to be mindful of what part of town you’re in. It isn’t safe for a young lady traveling alone around here,” she warned.
“I’ll be careful,” I assured her.
“Good.” She lingered for just a moment before she said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Everyone calls me Ms. Hallie. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Ms. Hallie. I will.”
An hour or so passed, and the store had grown quiet. I considered leaving, but for the first time in days, I actually felt at peace. I nestled back on the sofa and listened to the sound of the storm as I leaned my head back. It wasn’t long before my eyelids grew heavy, and I found myself drifting off to sleep. After all the sleepless nights and the days spent driving, I was beyond exhausted, and it finally caught up with me. I probably would’ve slept through the night if she hadn’t come over to wake me up. When I felt a tap on my leg, I sat up with a startled gasp. I looked up and was completely mortified to find the owner looking down at me with a worried expression. I quickly gathered my things and said, “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep like that.”
“It’s fine, dear. No need to apologize.”
I jumped up off the sofa and started for the door. “You must think I’m some kind of a basket case.”
“Not at all. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a customer doze off. It just means that they felt comfortable enough to do so. I take it as a compliment.”
“Well, thanks for understanding. Good night.”
The door closed behind me, and I was immediately surrounded by darkness. I looked up and down the street in search of my car, but I was still feeling a bit dazed and couldn’t remember where I’d parked. I was just starting to panic when the door creaked open and Ms. Hallie asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my car.” And then it hit me. I wasn’t looking for the diamond-white BMW I’d driven for the past two years—the car that my father had given me on my sixteenth birthday. I’d traded it three states back for an older, four-door Nissan with a Honk If You’re Horny sticker on the back bumper. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I spotted my new prize parked across the street. I pointed to it and told her, “Oh, there it is!”
“Okay, dear. Drive safe.”
She watched as I rushed across the street to get in my car. I could see her standing inside the door as I inserted my key and turned the ignition. She was still standing there when there was only a clicking sound as the engine refused to turn over. I tried over and over to get that stupid car to start, but the thing wouldn’t budge. I knew I was in trouble. Ms. Hallie had warned me that this wasn’t a good part of town, so I knew staying put wasn’t an option. Just as I was starting to panic, I heard a tap on my window. I glanced up and found Ms. Hallie standing there. “Is everything okay?”
I didn’t know what compelled her to come out and check on me, but I was so relieved that she did. I eased my door open and said, “My car won’t start.”
“I see that. Why don’t you come inside? I have plenty of room at my place. You can stay with me. We can have someone come see about your car tomorrow.”
“No. I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“Sure, you can. Besides, I’d love the company.”
As great as her offer sounded, I wasn’t sure what I should do. I had no idea who she was or why she was willing to help me. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, it’s late, and if I had to guess, I’d say even if your car was running, you have no idea where you’re headed.”
“No. I don’t guess I do.”
“That’s what I thought. Why don’t you just take me up on my offer? I have a pot roast in the oven, and I’m gonna whip up a batch of mashed potatoes. I’d love for you to join me.”
“That sounds so good. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m positive. Now, grab your things and let’s go get us a bite to eat.”
“Okay.”
I did as she said and grabbed my bag out of the back seat. Once I’d locked up the car, I followed her back into the store. As we headed upstairs to her apartment, she turned to me and asked, “Do you have a name?”
“Umm … Yes, ma’am. I’m … Alex. Alex Carpenter.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Alex.”
I never dreamed that I would find my sanctuary in a small book store in the middle of Memphis, Tennessee, but I did. Once Hallie realized that I didn’t have a place of my own, she not only offered for me to stay with her, she insisted on it, and not only that, she gave me a job working at the book store. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. She knew
I was running from something and was concerned for me. I could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at me, but she never asked questions. It was then that I realized why she seemed so familiar to me on the day we first met. She reminded me of my mother. They both loved unconditionally and with all of their hearts.
I wanted to tell her about my past, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Finding out the truth about my mother’s death nearly destroyed me, and since the day I’d learned what really happened, I left home and never looked back. A part of me knew that running away wasn’t the answer, but I felt trapped—imprisoned by the weight of the hatred I felt for the man who was responsible for taking my mother from me. I simply had no choice. I had to get the hell out of there, away from him—my father—and everything he represented, and save what was left of my sanity.
It had been almost eight years since the day I’d left home and found myself living with Hallie, my guardian angel. She showed me a life that I never knew was possible, a life filled with love and joy, and I absolutely adored her for it. During those times I’d spend listening to her stories, I felt safe in the world she’d created for us, like my past was just a distant memory. Hallie helped me see the endless possibilities of my future. Whether she realized it or not, she hadn’t just given me a place to stay. She reminded me how it felt to have someone who truly cared about me, put me above others, and there was nothing in this world that could’ve felt better.
When Hallie died last year, I was completely heartbroken. She had been such a strong force in my life, and I had no idea what I would do without her. But in true Hallie fashion, she was always thinking one step ahead. Without even telling me, she’d left me the bookstore, along with the apartment upstairs. Even from the grave, she was looking out for me, and I was proud to continue her legacy.
Every morning, I woke up early and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee, water the plants, and dust the shelves. I’d learned from Hallie that presentation was everything, so I wanted to make sure that the store was perfect before I opened the doors. While I was rushing around, I found myself wondering if this would be one of those mornings that he’d be around—the unbelievably hot biker who made my knees tremble and breath quicken. I knew very little about him, just that he’d stop by the bookstore from time to time, and while it was obviously not his intention, his routine had sparked my curiosity. He’d enter the front door, and after a brief greeting, he’d make himself a cup of coffee and find his way to the back of the store. Once he’d picked out a book, he’d make his way over to the very sofa that I’d found to be so comforting on my first visit and sit there for a half hour or so, drinking his coffee and reading silently. When he was finished, he’d place his empty cup in the garbage and put his book back in its proper location, leaving no sign that he’d even stopped by for a visit. As he made his way to the front door, he’d place a twenty on the counter and bid me farewell.
At first, I found his little routine intriguing, especially with his peculiar behavior, but over time, I’d started to look forward to him showing up, and this morning was no different. As soon as I had everything ready to start the day, I went over to unlock the door. I quickly glanced out the window, and butterflies rose to my stomach when I spotted him getting off his Harley. I silently cursed myself for having such an instant reaction to a man who rarely even spoke to me. There were times when I’d try to strike up a conversation, but quickly realized that small talk wasn’t my strong suit. I’d ask him random questions, hoping that it would trigger a lengthy response, but I never got much out of him other than one word answers. I didn’t exactly mind it. With each answer, he’d reveal a little more about himself, making me curious to know even more. I unlocked the door, flipped over the Open sign, and rushed to the front counter, trying to look like I was busy working on an order. When he walked in, I glanced up and my throat suddenly became dry when I saw how good he looked in his tight-fitted t-shirt and faded jeans. His gorgeous eyes skirted over to me when I smiled and said, “Morning!”
With little expression, he replied, “Morning.”
He walked over to the side table and made himself a cup of coffee. Once he was done, he glanced back over to me before making his way to his spot on the sofa. I let him be as he skimmed through his book of the day, and I tried to focus on the few customers who filtered in, answering their questions about a particular book or author. I tried my best to ignore him entirely, but every so often, I’d find myself sneaking peeks over in that corner. I just couldn’t help myself. I knew so little about the man who spent his mornings with me, and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about why he was there. My mind was still drifting when he came up and tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. I wasn’t surprised by his actions. It was something he did every time he came into the store. Normally, I’d just leave it alone, but something compelled me to say, “You know … you don’t have to do that.”
My breath caught when he stopped and turned to look at me with those beautiful blue eyes. “And what if I want to?”
He was standing right in front of me, just a few feet away, and suddenly I couldn’t form a complete thought. I’d been around handsome men before, plenty of them, but never had I been so close to a man like him—the kind who inspired romance writers in the thick of the night. My eyes dropped to his chiseled jaw and full lips, and all I could do was just stand there stammering like an idiot. To make matters worse, he shifted his stance so that the oscillating fan blew on him in just the right direction, sending his scent spiraling towards me. Damn. Why did I have to go and open my big mouth?
Shadow
There were days when I’d feel everything, and then there were days I felt completely numb. Those were the days I liked best. I didn’t want to feel. I wanted no pain. No regret. No misguided hope. Nothing at all. I’d spent years trying to find something that would help me do just that. I’d tried alcohol, drugs, women, and even therapy, but only because my commanding officer demanded it. I’d been imprisoned during my time in Afghanistan, and knowing what that shit can do to a man, he thought it would help with any issues I might have with PTSD. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The counselor tried everything he could to get through to me, but I just wasn’t ready to deal with the shit-storm that was raging inside my head, and there was nothing he could do or say to change that.
I decided to ignore what was happening to me, hoping that eventually it would all just go away. That didn’t happen. The dreams had gotten worse, and the dull ache in my chest only grew more intense. I was fighting a losing battle until I happened to stroll into a small bookstore on the corner of Broad and Second. The minute I’d walked through the door, an odd feeling washed over me, and I was taken back by the strange sensation as I’d stood there looking around. It was like I’d stepped into another world—a world where all my bitterness and regret no longer clung to me, and for just a moment, I could simply let go and breathe.
I don’t know why it had such an effect on me, maybe it reminded me of my home—my real home—where I’d always felt safe and at peace and loved and protected. I hadn’t felt that way since my family was taken from me. While the bookstore didn’t give me that exact same feeling, it was close. It felt so comfortable, so easy. There was never any fuss. I’d walk in and make myself a cup of coffee, then grab a book and find my way over to the sofa in the back of the store. It was quiet, but not too quiet. As I flipped through the pages of my book, I would hear movement at the front of the store, people whispering as they picked out a book, or the sound of the register after a purchase, and it set me at ease. In the beginning, that feeling was what brought me back here, but everything changed the moment the bookstore’s beautiful Latina owner, Alex Carpenter, caught my eye. Whereas in the past, I’d gone there looking for a place to take a breath and maybe find some possible insights to my fucked-up head, I’d suddenly found myself popping in regularly just to catch another glimpse of her.
Today was no different. After a long night of dealing with B
oon, I needed a distraction, and like always, she’d done just that. For a few minutes, I was able to forget about all the bullshit and clear my head. Once I felt ready to start my day, I tossed my Styrofoam cup in the trash and carried my book back over to the shelf where I’d found it. I glanced down at the title—A Guide to Healing: Finding Your Way Through PTSD—and for a brief second, I actually considered buying the damn thing. While I knew I had some of the symptoms that were associated with PTSD, I wasn’t sure the diagnosis actually fit. The years I’d spent in Afghanistan were unforgiving, especially considering the time I’d spent in captivity and the amount of bloodshed I’d seen, but nothing that happened there could even compare to the hell I went through in foster care. The torture, the endless beatings and mental abuse I’d experienced during those years were enough to scar any man. It was tough, but even that wasn’t as devastating as losing the one person who actually understood what I was going through. My life was one fucking heartbreak after the next, but looking back, I realized those years molded me into the man I am today. Knowing there was no quick fix for the issues I had, I put the book back on the shelf next to the others. I walked up front where Alex was standing behind the counter, and she smiled as soon as she noticed me coming towards her. I gave her a quick nod as I placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and headed for the door.
Just before I walked out, she announced, “You know … you don’t have to do that.”
She rarely spoke to me, so her comment caught me off guard. “Do what?”
“Give me twenty dollars every time you come in. It’s really not necessary. It’s not like you ever buy anything, and the coffee is free for anyone who wants it.”
While she might’ve found it unnecessary, I disagreed. Every time I’d come in, I’d invaded her space, drank her coffee, and read one of her books without actually buying it. Giving her the money was the right thing to do. “And what if I want to?”