The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,50
much more gentleness than he’d used putting them into the wagon. She smiled, aware of her quivering lips, and thanked him. Without replying, he hopped down and made a wide berth around her. He grabbed the gate, took the same path on his way back to the wagon, and smacked the gate into its frame. She gripped the handles of her suitcases. Why was the man who’d offered to let her sit on the driver’s seat beside him now acting as if she had leprosy? She bit the inside of her lip, heart aching.
Mr. Gilliam gave a brusque yank on his hat’s brim, which she interpreted as a farewell, then clomped to the front of the wagon. Without a word, he began removing the horse’s traces.
Miss West took the smaller case from Addie’s hand. “Come along, Addie. I’ll show you to the library.”
Addie eagerly trailed Miss West away from the wagon and Mr. Gilliam’s dark countenance. She needed a library’s sweet sanctuary to soothe her hurt feelings. She considered asking her new boss what she’d done to upset the driver, but the woman’s breath emerged in laborious huffs. Perhaps Addie shouldn’t tax her by expecting her to answer questions.
A chorus of crickets serenaded them as Miss West led her through lengthy gray shadows to the opposite side of the street and then away from the livery barn. Addie’s gaze swept her surroundings, her heart sinking a bit more with each step. Had she really imagined buying a soda in a drugstore or browsing a dress shop? How could they even call this gathering of mismatched structures a town? Although the appearance disheartened her, a sweet smell that reminded her of the flowering vine on the fence at her childhood home permeated the entire area. She inhaled the scent, and it eased some of her apprehension.
They rounded a cluster of thick bushes growing beneath a huge tulip tree near the road, and Miss West stopped in front of a log building approximately twice the length of its width. Addie hadn’t noticed it when they entered Boone’s Hollow. Shielded by the tree’s branches and fronted by the bushes, it was half-hidden from sight. A door constructed from upright planks held together with rusty iron bands created a dark rectangle against the building’s coat of white paint.
“Here we are, Addie.”
Addie gave Miss West a startled look. “Here we are…where?”
“The library.”
Addie’s jaw dropped. Library? Why, this was nothing more than a…than a…She couldn’t find a suitable description.
Miss West crossed to the door and pulled a leather string that emerged from a small hole. A scraping noise intruded against the crickets’ singing, and the door swung open on creaky hinges. She glanced at Addie, a slight frown creasing her forehead. She released a heavy sigh. “Come along now.”
Addie gave a little jerk that set her feet in motion. Yellow light flickered behind the small front window and then flowed out the doorway and across the sandstone block serving as a stoop. She stepped inside as Miss West lit a second lamp and blew out the match. Oil lamps, not electric. But their glow sufficiently lit the small space, giving her a full view of the building’s—the library’s—contents. Such as they were. Dismay flooded her belly. How could anyone call this place a library? To do so was an insult to every other library she’d visited. She’d find no soothing sanctuary here. Except…
A savory aroma, very different from the one permeating the town’s street, filled her nostrils, and her stomach growled. She pressed her hand to her belly. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
The woman chuckled. “I suppose the smell of smoked meats, particularly ham, has that effect on most people.”
Addie sniffed, and memories of Sunday breakfasts and Easter dinners rolled in her mind. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m smelling. Ham.” Miss West must have had ham for lunch earlier.
“I had the same reaction each time I entered this building for the first few weeks. The scent saturates the interior surfaces due to the building’s previous service as a smokehouse, but eventually you’ll adjust to it and won’t smell it at all.”
Addie looked up. Thick, smoke-blackened beams, one still holding an iron hook, formed an evenly spaced row beneath the peaked ceiling. A library in a former smokehouse. Even her active imagination couldn’t have conjured such a thing.
“You’re likely tired after your day of travel. Let’s get you settled.” Miss West picked up one of the lamps and carried Addie’s suitcase to a wall of