The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,120

words out even though they warbled. “Oh, dear Lord, she needs to know You. She needs to understand how much You love her. Somehow she’s gotta figure out she don’t need to go chasin’ after Emmett or any other fella to find love. All she’s gotta do is turn to Jesus, an’ then she’ll be Yours an’ she’ll have all the love she needs.”

So tell her.

Nanny Fay’s eyes popped open. Why was something inside her head interrupting her prayers? “Tell her? She ain’t gonna listen to me.”

Then show her.

Nanny Fay’s chin slipped off her knuckles and nearly hit the mattress. Her body sagged, but not all from tiredness. The peace she’d been waiting for surged from her middle outward like water seeping through a crack and filled every part of her being. She struggled to her feet. Her stiff muscles groaned, but a smile pulled at her lips. “Yes. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll show her.”

Emmett

“AIN’T THEM CRICKETS ever gonna shut up?”

Emmett jolted. Had he drifted off? He must have. He inwardly berated himself. How would he know when Bettina returned if he couldn’t stay awake and listen for her?

He shifted, sitting a little straighter, then leaned against the rough tree trunk again. The clouds that had been shrouding the moon earlier must have moved on, because a slight amount of light touched Paw’s aggravated face. “I dunno. They’re noisy, all right.”

Paw grunted. “Never have liked crickets. Just chirp, chirp, chirp…Good for nothin’. Except fish bait. Catfish’ll snatch ’em right up.” He nudged Emmett with his elbow. “You remember goin’ after catfish one summer when you was a littler feller? Before Dusty was born. You might’ve been about how old Dusty is now. We went with your Grandpappy McCallister.”

Emmett vaguely recalled a fishing trip with Paw and his maw’s father before the old man died. “I think so.” He forced his tired mind to think back. “Yeah. Yeah, I recall you and Grandpaw gave me a tin can and told me to hunt up crickets. But I don’t remember catching any.”

“You didn’t. ’Cause you didn’t look for ’em.” Paw laughed, but the sound held a hard edge. “Him an’ me found a good spot to drop our lines, got our poles ready, an’ waited. Waited some more. Finally he says, ‘Best go find him. Prob’ly gonna be like Little Boy Blue sleepin’ somewheres.’ I went lookin’ for you. An’ I found you, but you weren’t sleepin’.”

Suddenly Emmett remembered. Mr. Halcomb had given him a copy of The Story of Doctor Dolittle as a prize for winning the end-of-the-year spelling bee. He’d found a comfortable spot on the creek bank to read, and then Paw had come along. Paw hadn’t said a word. But he hadn’t needed to. The disappointment on his face said it all.

“That’s when I knew for sure, you an’ me, we was differ’nt.” The dry, sad laugh rumbled again. “Ain’t no way I’da been caught readin’ a book when I could be fishin’ or huntin’ or doin’ anything else outdoors when I was a youngster.”

His father’s disappointment—his disapproval—stung as much now as it had then. Emmett stared across the deep shadows and forced his tight vocal cords to speak. “I’m sorry, Paw.”

The sliver of moonlight disappeared behind another cloud passing over.

“Ain’t your fault, I reckon.” Paw’s voice sounded raspy, too, like maybe he was having a hard time making his words come out. “Your maw’s always held a fondness for books an’ readin’. She read stories to you before you were out o’ the cradle. Reckon them stories reached inside you someplace an’ took hold.”

He smacked his palms together several times, and the crickets fell silent. For a few seconds. Then one started chirping, another joined in, and pretty soon the chorus filled the night again.

Paw sighed. “Fool crickets. Guess we had them few days, though, didn’t we?”

Emmett didn’t follow. “Few days?”

“Workin’ the mine…”

Ah. Yes. Emmett hung his head. “Those were good days, Paw. I don’t regret them.”

“They was awful short.”

Emmett swallowed. There was something he’d pondered. Something he needed to know but was afraid to know. He didn’t want to see his father’s expression when he asked. If hurt showed in Paw’s eyes, he’d never forgive himself. But the cover of darkness gave him a chance to ask. “Is that why you tore up the books in the library?”

Paw’s rump scooting on the dried leaves sounded loud. Loud enough to still the crickets for a few seconds. “How’d you know?” Paw’s warm