Withered Pages

Ivy hurriedly unlocked the door and rushed inside. Her blonde hair was soaked. Thankfully, she had decided on a braid this morning. She would have to give it a good redo, but at least she would look as put together as rainy days would allow. After making sure the door was locked behind her, she made her way to her office. The dim lights that were left on at all times were barely enough to guide her through the dark library today. Rain had been pouring for days. The sky was such a dark gray it looked like perpetual dusk outside. It would have been a great day to just stay home, curled up with a blanket, with a hot cup of tea, her sweet boy Apollo, and an excellent book. Unfortunately, half of the small town of Sparrows Ridge thought the same thing. That meant facing the monsoon to check out a cozy read and a few movies. There was no playing hooky today. Sparrows Ridge, named after the Foxglove Beardtongue flower, sat nestled in the foothills of Alabama. It had a population of about 3,000 people, most of which had never ventured further than the town limits. What had drawn her to this place, she couldn’t tell, but this where she ended up and though it lacked a Starbucks, she was happier here than she had been in a long time. Ivy dropped her purse and lunch on her desk, rubbing her hands together for warmth. While most states enjoyed fluffy snow in January, Northeast Alabama got rain. It was cold enough to freeze on power lines and your car windshield, but rarely enough to give them a good snow day. If there happened to be snow, it was usually gone in a day or two. Despite that, Ivy loved living here. She was originally from, well, all over the North, where snowy winters were the norm, went to college at the University of Alabama for her Master’s in Library Science, and moved to Foxglove three years ago to become the youngest librarian the town had ever had at the age of twenty-three. It took the townsfolk a while, especially the older crowd, to give her a chance. The former librarian had been in the position for over twenty years and was a local. Ivy had big shoes to fill. She was an outsider. However, once they realized she had a passion for the library, she was golden. They absolutely loved her. Ivy could see herself like Ms. Debbie, staying until she retired, watching families expand and children grow. She shook her head. It was shocking to her that she had been here this long. Ivy was used to moving around. She wasn’t accustomed to putting down roots anywhere. It was a product of her upbringing. After putting her lunch in the staff room refrigerator, and redoing her wet braid, Ivy began to get the library ready for the day. The library itself was a converted schoolhouse that had been built in the 1800s. There were two levels, with the computers, research area, and activity rooms occupying the upper story. The first floor was books and the children’s story time area. The shelves were hand-built as were the circulation desk and the other wooden displays, which had been handmade by a local carpenter in 1950. It wasn’t the biggest library, and it wasn’t the newest. In fact, there were a lot of things that needed repaired and replaced, but it was quaint and well-loved. “God, I thought I was going to drown out there!” Carrie, her assistant, came barreling through the library like a stray bullet. Carrie Brown was even younger than she was and full of fire. It showed in her presence, in her sharp green eyes and curly red hair. She was a free spirit, born in a time and place that didn’t necessarily understand her. She wore flowery skirts and layers of scarves. The bracelets on her wrists jingled whenever she moved. Carrie’s wide-rimmed glasses seemed to take over her entire face, giving her an owl-like look. It didn’t matter if Carrie covered her face with her hair and glasses, she was a beautifully striking woman. Ivy often wondered if Carrie could see that herself. The two of them couldn’t be more different. Carrie was spiritual and loved giving people advice based on their astrological sign. Ivy was stoic, logical, and never wore jewelry that would make noise. Her attire was always crisp, a little vintage, but professional. Still, Carrie was her best friend. They’d hit it off as soon as Ivy walked through the door. Carrie was the one to first believe in her and showed her around town. Ivy was pretty sure that Carrie wouldn’t have taken no for an answer on the best friend status even if she had tried. Carrie claimed people and now, Ivy belonged to her extended family. “You know what that means.” Darren came in behind her. “We are going to be swamped today.” Darren was the newest addition to the library. He was an older man, rail thin, and with a no-nonsense attitude. She wasn’t sure about his bluntness at first, but he’d grown on her and the patrons. “Your braid looks nice today,” Darren said to her and he shook out of this rain coat. “Yeah, I"m sure it does,” Ivy responded. “Nothing sexier than rain drenched hair.” “Speak for yourself,” Carrie groaned, trying to pat dry her curls with a paper towel. Darren and Ivy couldn’t help but laugh. Carrie stuck her tongue out at them and then rushed to the bathroom to see how bad it was. After finishing up their opening duties, the trio took a moment to enjoy the peace. Ivy enjoyed a nice hot cup of her favorite tea, which she bought at a shop in town, while Darren and Carrie tried a new tea concoction that Carrie had been working on. “What’s in it?” Darren asked. “Just drink it,” Carrie ordered. “Okay, but it better not give me the poops,” he warned. “That was only one time!” Ivy laughed until she heard a pull at the door. She groaned when she saw there were already four people waiting outside. They technically had four and a half minutes left, but it was cold and rainy, so her heart softened. “Ready, guys?” she asked them. “Let in the horde.” Carrie nodded, making her way to the circulation desk with Darren right behind her. Ivy flipped on the lights on her way to the door. As soon as she turned the key, it seemed like the people outside had multiplied. They came rushing in, shaking off the cold and rain. “Good morning, Ms. Newton,” an elderly patron, Mrs. Isaacs, greeted her. “It sure is ugly out there today. I wonder when it’s going to let up.” “Good morning, Mrs. Isaacs,” she answered. “I hope sometime soon or we’re going to need boats to get around!” Mrs. Isaacs, who was at the library at least once a week, gave Ivy a hearty giggle. She went to explore the mystery section, as was her norm. Ivy knew she’d find her later in one of the chairs reading her new book. It was mostly because of Mrs. Isaacs’ vivacious reading habits that Ivy had to keep the mystery section updated regularly. Another patron, twelve-year-old Harper, came barreling through. Harper was one of the brightest kids Ivy had ever met. He was an old soul trapped in a preteen body. “Good morning, Harper,” Ivy greeted him. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or that you feel good this morning? Or that it is a morning to be good on?” he said, speaking like a Shakespearian actor. “Quoting Tolkien this morning, huh?” She laughed. “You got it! My brother did not, but I shouldn"t be surprised. He’s not much of a reader,” Harper stated. “What are we researching this morning?” she asked. “Rainfall and accumulation history in Sparrows Ridge,” he started. “My brother and I have a bet about whether we’ve ever had a flood and if so, how much and how long it lasted. I say it’s never happened here, not in recorded history anyway.” “Interesting,” she replied. Ivy glanced out the rain marked window to see the car that had dropped Harper off. A broad man, one she could just make out, sat in the driver’s side. She knew it was Harper’s adult brother. She had never met him but knew enough about their situation that she didn’t doubt it was him. Harper waved to him, and the car drove off. Harper ran off to the public computers and started his research for the day. The rest of the day was chaos. The rain didn’t let up; it actually became a storm, which had them without power for over an hour. They had to check out books on paper, and they had no Internet access, but thankfully her staff and the patrons took it in stride. By the time they were ready to close, Ivy was overly exhausted. Darren and Carrie looked bright-eyed and ready to go. In fact, they had plans for that evening and wanted her to join them. “You can be old and tired when you’re actually old and tired,” Darren told her. “I just want a hot bath and a glass of wine while Frank Sinatra lulls me into relaxation,” Ivy countered. “He can lull me alright, but not to sleep,” Darren responded. They all laughed as Ivy walked away. She politely, but sternly ushered the remaining patrons out of the door, Harper along with them. “Where"s your brother?” she asked. “He’s working,” Harper responded. “You’re walking home?” she worried. “It’s completely safe,” he reassured her. “I’m twelve and I only live a block away.” “Okay, if you’re sure,” she said. “I could walk with you.” “No, thank you,” he smiled. “See you tomorrow.” “Harper, who won the bet?” she couldn"t help but ask. “Unfortunately, my brother did.” He looked let down. “There was a flood here forty-five years ago that wiped out half of downtown. I didn’t think I would find the information I needed when the power went out, but the research section has extremely well-kept detail records of our town’s history. I am impressed.” “Well, in your defense, you weren’t even alive forty-five years ago,” she said, then added. “And it just goes to show you, books still have their place in modern society.” “Yeah,” he laughed. “Good night, Ms. Newton.” Ivy waved him goodbye and returned to the desk. She was smiling, but stopped as soon as she spotted the look on Darren’s face. “What?” she asked. “Not that one,” he told her. “What are you talking about?” she wondered. “You get pet projects with these kids and their families,” he pointed out. “Not that one.” “Why not? And I don’t have pet projects,” she defended herself. “Yeah, you do, and not that one because he’s a Belmonte,” he said. “Okay.” Ivy was confused. “Harper is a good kid,” Ivy stated, feeling defensive about the boy. “I’m not saying he isn’t a good kid, but he doesn’t need saving,” Darren told her. “Roman, his brother, is a good guy, he’s just…” “Been through a lot,” Carrie chimed in. “Nothing but tragedy follows that family. It’s really a horrible story. Roman is a good guy, but it’s been hard for him to get out from under the dark blotch of his worthless parents. They were killed in a d**g deal gone bad. Harper saw it all, so that"s why his brother has custody of him. It’s a hot mess. There’s a lot more, too.”