The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,99
spun around, heart pounding. She rose and tiptoed toward the window that looked out over the garden, her gaze shifting back and forth from it to the square pane giving a view of the woods behind the house. With the lamp shining so bright inside and heavy shadows outside, she saw little more than a gray patch of nothing, and her heart pounded like the hooves of a galloping horse. She made it to the window, and after sending up a quick prayer for courage, she stuck her head out. She searched left and right, then scanned the tree line as far as she could see.
“There isn’t anything here.” She spoke aloud to assure herself. But it didn’t work. Despite the hot, muggy air, she shivered. Her peace had shattered. She no longer felt safe sitting at the table in the open room. The security of her bedroom called. But first, she should make sure the cabin was locked tight. She closed the windows and put sturdy sticks in place that prevented anyone from opening the panes from outside. Then she hurried to the door as quickly as her trembling legs allowed. The string meant to lift the heavy crossbar was already in. No one would be able to open the door. Now to extinguish the lamp and lock herself in her room.
She lifted the globe and bent forward, but she held in her breath. Should she awaken Nanny Fay and tell her she feared someone might have been skulking outside the cabin? As soon as the thought formed, she dismissed it. The old woman was exhausted, and it might have been nothing more than a raccoon or possum scrounging for food. Why interrupt her sleep over a childish whim?
Addie blew out the lamp. The room plunged into darkness, discombobulating her senses. After a moment or two, her eyes adjusted and she made her way to her bedroom door. As her fingers closed on the little crossbar that held her door closed, the crickets began to sing and the owl added harmony with its whoo-whoo.
Her breath wheezed out, and she rested her forehead against the door. All was well. She’d gotten herself worked up for nothing. Somehow, though, even when she’d tucked herself under her pretty patchwork quilt and lay nestled in her comfortable feather bed, the earlier peacefulness of the evening refused to return.
* * *
BIRDS SANG FROM the bushes outside, waking Addie. She swung out of bed and scurried to the window. Soft morning light touched the heavy mist hanging over the mountain, making the cloud-looking puffs glow like Chinese lanterns. A self-deprecating laugh found its way from her throat. Such a restless night she’d spent after her scare, but look at this glorious morning scene. So serene. So picturesque. How silly she’d been to let fear take hold of her.
She opened her window as far it would go and smiled at the grayish-pink sky. I’m sorry for being such a ninny, Lord. I forgot what You told the children of Israel—“Fear thou not; for I am with thee.” But I see Your fingerprints everywhere this morning, and I’ll remember to take Your hand the next time I feel afraid.
She chose a clean dress from a hook, clothed herself all the way down to her feet, then went out the door—the front door, since the cabin had no back door—for the trek to the outhouse. A lengthy walk, which Addie had bemoaned a time or two. But this morning, with the sun still hiding behind the mountain and the scented breeze holding a slight coolness, Addie savored it. Within an hour, the day would be sticky and hot. She took her time returning from the little necessary building, enjoying the moist dew collecting on her shoes, the choir of birdsong, and the fingers of sunlight creating a fan in the cloud-dotted sky.
Nanny Fay came out as Addie stepped up on the porch. She smiled, her gaze drifting toward the sky. “Mornin’, Adelaide. Ain’t it a purty start to a new day?”
Addie laughed. “Exactly my thoughts.” An idea struck. “Since I’m leaving you to take care of the blueberries all by yourself, how about I make breakfast this morning?”
Nanny Fay cupped Addie’s cheek with her warm, calloused hand. “That’s real kind o’ you, honey, but I already got a pot o’ oatmeal started. Figgered we could toss in some o’ them fresh berries.”