The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,127
with me and agreed to help me with my project.”
Emmett emptied the pack onto the table. “Project? What project?”
Addie’s eyes sparkled like a firefly’s flash at midnight. “When you showed me the story I’d written about Nanny Fay this morning, I was so thrilled. Her life, her ability to overcome hardship, is such an inspiration.” She paced back and forth, her hands stirring the air. “I started thinking…every life is a story. And the lives of these folks who live on Black Mountain are so unique, so rich in tradition. Someone should record the stories for future generations. It was almost as if God bopped me over the head and instructed me to use my love of writing to benefit the community.”
He followed her with his gaze, listening not only to her words but also to her passion. Seeing not only her enthusiasm but also her heart.
She spun to face him and threw her arms wide. “Think of it, Emmett. The collected memories of the folks who call Boone’s Hollow and Tuckett’s Pass their home could be compiled in a book and kept here in the library. Friends, neighbors—enemies, even—could read one another’s stories and learn from them. If they understand one another, won’t they be more accepting? More compassionate? More…” Her arms fell to her sides. Her smile faded. She scuffed to a chair and plopped into it. “You think it’s silly, don’t you?”
Her question stole his ability to remain upright. He yanked out the second chair and sat. “No. No, Addie, not at all. Why would you say that?”
“You’re staring at me as if I’ve suddenly broken out with green spots.”
He laughed. “Green spots are good. Especially on that one dress you have. Or is it a green dress with white spots? I don’t remember now. But you’re really pretty in it.” He must be overly tired to let something like that come out of his mouth. He grinned at the pink flush climbing her cheeks. He took her hand. “Addie, I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I’d actually considered the benefit of hosting a weekly story night. At the time, I was bemoaning the absence of the story you’d written about Nanny Fay.”
She tipped her head and examined him. “Really?”
“Really. I’d like to talk more about it with you, but right now I’m very sleepy and trying hard to stay awake.”
She stood. “I should go, then. But may I start writing down people’s stories?” She cringed. “I probably should have asked that before I brought it up to the folks on Bettina’s route. I guess I got carried away.”
He tugged her hand, and she sat again. “You said it seemed as if God gave you the idea. He’s a much higher authority than I am, so you need to heed His directions.”
She blew out a breath, and her smile returned. “Oh, good. Mrs. Retzel, especially, was excited to tell me about her family. That’s why I was late coming in. She wanted to start right away.”
“Then I think you should.” He yawned and idly ran his thumb back and forth on her knuckles. “You know, Addie, this library program was started to give jobs to people who were having a hard time finding them because of the country’s financial hardships.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Which means…” He hoped he could keep his thoughts together long enough to get them all said before he fell asleep. She was starting to look fuzzy around the edges. “When the economy improves, the program will end. This economic depression can’t last forever.”
“I should hope not!”
He held up his hand in a mute bid for her silence. “But there are a little over a hundred families living in and around Boone’s Hollow and Tuckett’s Pass. If you plan to write all their stories, you might need to stay here even after the library program closes.”
She bit the corner of her lip and stared at him, her expression pensive.
“You might need to make Boone’s Hollow your home. Or at least have a tie to it that brings you back again and again, until all the memories are collected.” He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” His eyelids felt as heavy as a filled book satchel. They refused to stay open. “What I’m saying, Addie, is…” He yawned. “Is…”
He slumped forward and laid his head on his bent arm. He’d finish telling her his thoughts later.