The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,11
as well wad up his hard-earned college diploma, too. What use was his degree if no businesses were hiring managers?
When Mr. Halcomb, the teacher back in Boone’s Hollow, first mentioned going to college, Emmett had thought the man addlebrained. Nobody from Emmett’s family, nor anyone from Boone’s Hollow as far as he knew, had ever gone to a university. Most men either put in an honest day’s work in the coal mines or dodged revenuers and sold distilled whiskey. Paw had wanted Emmett to sign on at the mine as soon as he turned fifteen to help support the family. But Mr. Halcomb said a mind like his shouldn’t be wasted. So, to Paw’s chagrin, Emmett had stayed in school all the way to twelfth grade and, mostly to make the teacher happy, took the scholarship test. He was more surprised than Paw when he got the letter from the university telling him he’d won.
Every year for four years straight, he’d received scholarship money to pay for tuition, room, board, and books. A waste of time, Paw called it. A blessing, Maw called it. He heard her proud voice in his head. “The Almighty has big plans for you if He’s rainin’ down such a blessin’.” Emmett had always thought Maw was right. Until now. He glared at the list of possible jobs he’d written on his notepad. Not one of them looked like the means to fulfill big plans. Each looked more like a joke.
He shoved the list aside. “I should’ve stayed put, gone to the mines, like Paw said.”
“What was that, ol’ bloke?”
Emmett jerked sideways in the chair and looked over his shoulder. His roommate stood in the open doorway, grinning like the hills men did after sampling too much of their homemade corn liquor. Emmett gritted his teeth. How long had Spence been standing there watching him?
“ ’Fraid you’ll need to repeat it. I didn’t catch it the first time.”
“Never mind. Was talking to myself.” Embarrassment gruffed Emmett’s voice.
Spence caught the edge of the door with his heel and sent it into its frame. “Talkin’ to yourself’s fine. So long as you don’t ask questions and then answer yourself. That’s plain loco.” He dropped his armload of books on the bed and shrugged out of his suit coat. He tossed the coat on top of the books, then ambled to the desk.
Spence leaned on the corner, crossed his arms, and frowned at Emmett. “Studyin’ again? You put the rest of us to shame, y’know, with your read, read, read. You’ve gotta be more ready for next week’s final exams than any other fella on the whole campus. Why not let up on yourself some, Tharp?”
Emmett fiddled with the corner of the page where he’d recorded the list of jobs. “Wasn’t studying. More like thinking. Planning.” And coming up empty.
“Plannin’ what?”
Emmett tilted his head and met Spence’s grin. The color of his roommate’s eyes, eyebrows, and hair matched the reddish-brown freckles dotting his entire face. Even though Spence was twenty-two years old, same as Emmett, all those freckles made him look a lot younger. He acted younger, too. Or maybe Emmett acted old. Sometimes he sure felt old.
Spence bumped Emmett’s shoulder with his elbow. “Hey, I asked a question. Plannin’ what?”
Even if Emmett told Spence how bleak the future looked, the other man wouldn’t understand. His family lived on a horse ranch outside Lexington, and he’d confessed early on that he only enrolled in college to get out of working all day in the stables. He said he’d rather take tests than take care of the thoroughbred quarter horses his daddy raised. Did he know how lucky he was to have a family business he could step into? Probably not.
Emmett shrugged. “It’s not important.”
Spence stared hard at Emmett for several seconds, then pushed off from the desk. “Well, I’m fixin’ to get some supper.” Grinning, he rubbed his flat belly. “Skipped lunch so I’d have plenty of room. Friday night fish fry in the cafeteria. My favorite. You ready to go?”
If Spence’d had to gut and scrape scales from fish as often as Emmett had while growing up, he might not find the weekly fried fish so appealing. Besides, the dismal opportunities written in black pen on white paper had robbed Emmett of his appetite. He waved his hand. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”
Spence gave him a hearty smack on the shoulder and took off toward the door. “Suit yourself. You’re goin’ to the bonfire