The Book Charmer

by Karen Hawkins

  Grace came the rest of the way into the kitchen. “She took two sips and fell asleep.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “I hope she stays that way.” Grace removed the tea bags, then she pushed the sugar and spoon his way.

  She sat down and picked up her mug, resting it against her cheek as she closed her eyes. “That feels soooo good.”

  He dumped a spoonful of sugar into his tea and stirred it, trying to pull his gaze from her. But he couldn’t. Instead, he tried the tea. It wasn’t too bad. Just for good measure, he added another spoonful of sugar. “You should set up a camera on that front door and figure out how she’s getting out.”

  “I’m afraid of what I might find. Mama G believes in ghosts, you know.” Grace gave a little laugh. “I’m beginning to believe in them, too.”

  A creak upstairs made her turn toward the door, her expression frozen as she listened.

  After a moment, she stood. “Sorry. I keep thinking she might slip away. Would you mind if we moved to the sitting room? I’ll be able to see the front door from there.”

  “Sure.” He picked up his mug and followed her.

  She pushed aside the lap blanket that hung over the back of the couch and sat down, wincing when he stepped on a creaky board. “Sorry about that. There are a few things that need fixed in this house and that’s one of them.”

  He looked from the empty side of the couch to a nearby chair. It would be more polite to sit in the chair, but he couldn’t resist sitting closer to her. He sat down on the couch, using one foot to move Mama G’s knitting basket out of his way, careful to give Grace plenty of room. “What else needs fixed?”

  “Let me see. There’s that floorboard, the railing on the stairs is loose, a few slats on the fence are missing, and the sink upstairs has a slow leak.” She pursed her lips. “I think that’s all, but there may be more.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. I should stop by one afternoon and fix those things for you.”

  She waved her hand. “No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  He shrugged. “It would let me spend more time with Daisy and Mama G.” He laughed at Grace’s surprised look. “I know. I can’t believe I said that, either. But they’ve grown on me. Daisy would make a good mechanic. She’s a fast learner.”

  “She’s smart.” Grace sipped her tea, and her eyes sparkled at him.

  “What is it?”

  “You. You’re so big and bad-ass looking, and yet here you sit, drinking hot tea.”

  “Bad-asses like tea too. Ask Ava.”

  Grace smiled. “Ava is a lot of fun, but you’re closer to Sarah.”

  “She’s been my closest friend since elementary school.”

  “She believes in ghosts.”

  “Sarah believes in fairies, gnomes, and giants, too. She’s read too many books.”

  Grace laughed. “You think so? I think she’s read just enough. Well, except on one topic.”

  “What topic is that?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Let me guess. Blake.”

  Grace scrunched her nose. “Does everyone know?”

  “Pretty much. The people in this town talk. Plus, they’re both friends of mine.”

  “That must be awkward.”

  “A little. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but they’ll work it out.”

  “I hope so.” She eyed him over her cup. “Since people around here gossip, I daresay you know everything there is to know about me.”

  He knew some things, sure. People did talk, and because she was new and making changes, she was one of their favorite subjects.

  But he didn’t know the really important things, like her favorite color, why she wore her hair parted the way she did, or if she knew how adorable she looked in her too-big robe, her bare feet flat on the sitting room rug.

  He lifted his mug to take a drink, and his gaze met hers. Time froze. Something sizzled between them, something too hot and raw to be contained or described. He felt it, and he could see that she did, too.

  “Trav?”

  “Yes?” God, but she had the most delicious lips he’d ever seen. How had he never noticed that until now?

  She flushed. “Nothing.” She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “Tell me about you.”

  “There’s not a lot to tell. Most of it would bore you.”

  She smiled. “Try me.”

  So he did. He told her about his dad. About his friendship with Sarah. About why he liked his motorcycle and the garage. He talked, and she listened and laughed, and every once in a while she’d ask a question that made him wonder why no one had ever asked it before. As he talked, the bitter heat seemed to seep away, eased by the lightness of her laugh and the coolness of her gaze.

  A half hour passed and he realized he was talking way too much. Their mugs were empty by the time he paused, his face heating when he realized how much time had passed. “I’ve been talking enough. Tell me about you.” He turned a bit more toward her as he spoke, his foot bumping against Mama G’s knitting basket.

  Grace put down her empty mug. “Here. Let me move that.” She bent down and pulled the basket toward her. “There’s not much to tell that you probably don’t already know. I’ve lived—” Her voice caught.

  Trav frowned.

  She didn’t move but stared at the knitting basket on the floor at her feet.

  “What is it?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Grace?”

  She took a shuddering breath, then reached into the basket and pulled out a long, ragged chain of red yarn.

  As little as he knew about knitting, he recognized that it was a mess. There were tangles and knots in the frayed yarn, as if someone had tugged and pulled it in frustration.

  Grace raised tear-filled eyes to his. “She’s forgotten how to knit.”

  He recognized this moment. He’d had the exact same reaction the day he’d realized his dad could no longer recall how to put together an engine, something he’d done hundreds of times before, something that was as intrinsic to who Dad was as his own name.

  Grace’s lip quivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She hugged the tattered yarn as if it were a teddy bear, and she a child.

  Trav didn’t hesitate. He reached over, pulled her into his arms, and tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder. She hugged the tangled yarn, turned her face toward his shoulder, and with a shuddering sob, she wept.

  Trav kept his arms around Grace, his cheek against her hair, wishing with all his heart that he knew how to ease her pain. But there was nothing he could do.

  So he kept her there, holding her, rubbing her back, whispering against her hair that it was okay if she cried. That tears were good and helped heal wounds. That if she wanted to talk, he was there, and if she didn’t, that was fine, too.

  As he spoke, she quieted, but she made no move to leave the circle of his arms.

  Carefully, Trav leaned back, pulling her against him. He found the blanket that rested over the back of the couch and tugged it over her, tucking her in.

  And there he stayed.

  A short time later, they fell asleep, cozy under the blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms, his shirt still damp from her tears.

  • • •

  Trav awoke so slowly that for a minute, he didn’t know he was awake. He blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to fight his way through the edges of a delicious dream.

  Something was different. Something important.

  It took him a moment to realize what it was. A warm body snuggled against him, a rounded arm slung over his chest, silky hair tickling his cheek.

  Heaven.

  But it was more than that. It was the flood of early-morning sunshine that lit the room. It was the fact he’d just awoken from a deep, deep sleep.

  He blinked awake. Oh my God, I slept through the entire night.

  How long had it been since he’d done that? A year? Two?

/>   Grace stirred, snuggling deeper, fitting against him as if made to be there, and he suddenly remembered Mama G’s knitting basket and Grace’s agony from the night before.

  He tugged the blanket higher over her shoulder and rested his cheek back against her hair. He would have to leave soon, before anyone else in the house was awake, but for now, he’d stay where he was, holding her for as long as he could.

  CHAPTER 18

  Grace

  Grace pulled her Honda into the driveway and turned off the engine, the lights shutting off as the rain battered against the car roof. It was raining cats and dogs, pale flashes of lightning rippling through the air, an occasional rumble popping up now and then. Better to wait here until it lightens up.

  Smiling, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, tired but happy.

  It was late, but Linda had promised to stay until eight, so Grace had ten more minutes before she had to be inside. Ten minutes to sit here and rest and go back through her mental check list. The festival was a scant month away, but she was 99.9 percent sure everything was in place.

  Thunder rumbled a little closer, and rain sluiced down. This past month had been a blur. Every time she thought they were set with their plans for the festival, someone on the committee would come up with another great idea. But it was more than the festival. Other things were moving along at a terrific pace.

  Daisy was sill enjoying her “job” as Official Town Helper, as Sarah called it, and Grace couldn’t believe the difference in her niece. She wasn’t always in a good mood, but her outbursts had disappeared and she was quickly making friends with everyone in town. Her “job” had made her transition into Sweet Creek Elementary successful too, as she already knew most of the kids from helping with Sarah’s Children’s Hour.

  Grace was making friends as well—good ones. Ones she couldn’t imagine not having in her life, especially Sarah. Grace had grown to love the quirky, book-loving, Dove Pond–adoring librarian. As opposite as they were, in some odd way, Sarah’s loose, unplanned approach to life balanced out Grace’s overly structured one.

  And then there was Trav. Her head still against the headrest, she opened her eyes and looked at his house. His lights were on, and she had to fight the urge to text him an invitation to come over, late as it was. Since that night over a month ago when she’d had a meltdown upon finding Mama G’s knitting basket, Trav had become something of a fixture at their house. The day after that dreadful night, he’d shown up with a bag of tools and set out to fix every creak and leak that made their rental less than perfect.

  Grace appreciated his efforts, but more than that, it was nice having him around. He teased Daisy and was gentle with Mama G. He was quiet, but funny and smart when he did talk. She loved his wry comments.

  She also liked that he’d never once put himself forward after the night she’d slept wrapped in his arms. She was aware that he watched her, though, his dark gaze following her every move. Grace wasn’t sure what to make of that and she sometimes wished he would say or do something . . . more. Maybe he was waiting on her? She wasn’t sure.

  Well, she had time. She wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

  Sighing, she dropped her gaze to her satchel and pulled out her binder, flipping through it to double-check the items. One month from tomorrow would be the culmination of the committee’s work, Dove Pond’s very own fresh, newly imagined Apple Festival, two days of stellar family fun. Grace couldn’t wait.

  The rain let up some, and, seeing her chance, she collected her things and hopped out of her car, opening her umbrella as she went. She tugged her sweater closer and kept her gaze on the sidewalk to avoid puddles. She was halfway up the walk when she realized the front door was standing wide open.

  She stopped in her tracks. Something was wrong.

  It wasn’t just the door.

  It was the silence.

  At this time of the night, she should hear the jazz Mama G liked, or Daisy and Linda talking. But the house was completely silent.

  Grace’s heart tightened, and she hurried to the porch, ignoring the splashing rain as she dashed up the crooked steps. She tossed her open umbrella to one side as she hurried into the foyer. “Linda? Daisy? Mama G?” she called.

  No one answered.

  She dug in her purse for her phone, frowning to see that there were no messages. She called Linda, but it went straight to voice mail.

  Irked, she dropped her phone on a side table and hurried through the house, going from room to room, her footsteps echoing loudly.

  The house was lit as usual, the blinds drawn, table lamps ablaze, the lights in the dining room and kitchen on, as they usually were. But where were they? What had happened? Had someone been hurt? As she searched the house, she looked for the telltale marks of an accident—a broken vase, a drop of blood, a piece of furniture out of place.

  But everything was as it should be. Mama G’s cell phone was tucked in her knitting basket, where she usually left it and then forgot about it. Daisy’s bedroom door was ajar, Little Women open to the final chapter. Linda’s lunch box, part of her dieting efforts, still sat on the kitchen counter. A nearly empty cup of tea sat in the sink.

  Nothing was off. Not a single thing.

  Which was even more terrifying.

  Images began to flicker through Grace’s mind, her overactive imagination spurred by her growing panic.

  She turned back to the door, took two steps, and then stopped. Where did she start? Had they gone for a walk? Not at this time of the night. And not in the rain. And heaven knew they wouldn’t have left the front door wide open.

  She should . . .

  She blinked. God, she had no idea. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  She went back to the porch and noticed that only one set of wet tracks led inside—her own. If something had happened and an ambulance had come, it had to have been before the rain began, which was hours ago. But then why hadn’t someone called her?

  Where are they? Lightning flashed across the black sky, followed by the sharp crack of thunder. She jumped, her heart already pounding wildly, and hurried back inside. Please, God, let them be okay.

  Hands shaking, she found her phone and dialed. She’d barely stammered out one sentence before Sarah said, “Wait for me there.”

  Grace called Trav next. He arrived before she put the phone down. He took one look at her and, in two strides, had crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug. “You’ve already searched the house?”

  “Yes. They’re not here. No one is. I tried Linda’s phone, but it went straight to voice mail and I—” She looked at Trav. “What do I do? I have no idea where to start.” Grace gave a broken laugh. “You know, growing up, Mama G did everything for me—packed my lunches, bandaged my cuts, taught me how to fight my worst tendencies. When I was little, she even cut my hair. She didn’t do it particularly well, but she tried. And now, I don’t even know where she is or where to start looking for her or Daisy or—”

  “Grace.” Trav’s warm hand closed over hers. “Take a deep breath. We’re going to find her and Daisy. Did you call Sarah?”

  “Yes.” Grace bit her lip. “You think a book will tell her where—”

  He shook his head. “But she’ll know what to do. Did you call Blake?”

  “Why would— Oh. Blake, of course. He’s the sheriff.” She reached for her phone, but Sarah appeared in the doorway, her rain slicker dripping, Ava close behind. Big umbrellas rested on the porch behind them.

  “We are calling Blake,” Trav said.

  “I just spoke to him.” Sarah looked at Grace. “Do you have any idea where they went?”

  “No. The door was wide open and the house was left empty.”

  Ava and Sarah exchanged glances. Sarah came forward. “We were thinking that perhaps Mama G wandered off, with Daisy and Linda in hot pursuit.”

  “That can’t be it,” Grace said. “Linda would have called me. I know she would have.”

  “I’m
sure there’s a reason why she didn’t. Whatever happened, don’t worry. We’re on it.”

  “We?”

  “Us. Dove Pond.” Sarah’s smile warmed. “I didn’t just call Blake. I called the prayer chains, too.”

  “The what?”

  “There are two churches in Dove Pond. Half of the people go to one, half to the other. They each have a prayer chain. You call one person, and they call the next, and they call the next. Everyone knows who they have to call. In about ten minutes, every person in Dove Pond will be out looking for Mama G.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  Sarah’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. “Hi, Ed. No, no. No word yet. Okay. That sounds good . . . Yes, I called Blake. Of course I did. He said for you guys to cover the town and the main buildings. His squad car has a searchlight, so he’s going to check the farms and such. He doubts they’re that far away, but better safe than sorry.” Sarah listened a minute and then she nodded. “Good idea. Can you do that? . . . Great. Okay. We’ll start here.” She hung up and looked at Trav. “Ed wants us to go up and down this street and check all the houses and sheds. They might have taken shelter once the rain started. He’s already got people assigned to the other streets.”

  “Which streets?” Grace asked, feeling as if her world was tilting wildly.

  “All of them,” Sarah said. “Ava, you and I should get started. Blake asked Ed to set up a control center at the Moonlight. Zoe’s on her way there, but first she’s stopping at town hall to pick up the city’s walkie-talkies.”

  “She won’t have the key,” Grace said.

  “She’s meeting Mayor Moore there. She was going to call him as soon as I hung up.”

  “He won’t answer his phone. He gets bad reception at his house.”

  Sarah snorted. “Did he tell you that? He’ll answer the phone for Zoe. And if he doesn’t, she’ll drive over and grab him by the ear.” Sarah turned to Trav. “Text me the second you find anything. I can alert the others. And none of your brief, noncommunicative texts, either. We need details. It’ll save you a phone call.”

  “Fine. Details. Got it.”