Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Kristin rushed toward the stage, bass in hand, and squatted down to unpack it. “I had to find a sitter at the last minute. Hal said he had a ‘thing.’ I don’t know what kind of thing it was, but it was clearly more important than paying five dollars to see us blow the roof off this place.”
Joanna knew what the thing was. It was the council meeting, the one that Hal said he would cancel if they would cancel their gig. The one that would decide the fate of the library.
No, that was too optimistic. The one that was going to put the nail in the library’s coffin.
And on Liam and Joanna.
She shook her hands out, trying to get them steady. Her hands never shook before a show. She was never that nervous, just antsy to get on stage and start playing.
She looked out over the tables around Chet’s. From the tiny stage, with the lights in her eyes, it looked like they were all full. She saw Rick in the front row, his phone poised to take video. She saw Gus serving people at the bar, stopping to give her a wave. She saw Phyllis, of all people, chatting up the sound guy who was trying to do Kristin’s mic check.
The last time she’d been on a stage, it had been in front of thousands of people, and it was all wrong. This time, there were maybe a hundred.
It was still wrong.
“I can’t believe he’s not coming,” Kristin said. “I mean, I know he doesn’t like this whole music thing, but it’s important to me, you know?”
Joanna knew. Joanna knew how important music was, to Kristin and to Trina and to her. She also knew what it was like to choose between two important somethings.
“Hey, Joanna, you all right?” Trina asked from behind the drum set.
“Yeah,” she said, even though she wasn’t. But they’d just play the gig, and then she’d sort it out.
“You don’t look all right.”
“I’m fine! Let’s just do this. Are you ready, Kristin?”
“Hold on. Band selfie!” She grabbed Joanna and held her phone out at arm’s length. “Oh, that one’s terrible. Joanna, can you smile? Come on, one more time.”
She held out the phone again. This time, Joanna smiled.
“Yikes. Can you smile like you’re happy?”
“Kristin,” Trina said. “We can take selfies after.”
“Okay, okay! I’m too excited.” She bounced up and down a few times on the balls of her feet. “I’m ready. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” said Trina. “Joanna?”
“I’m ready,” she said without thinking.
Trina counted off and they slammed into the rhythm, the noise loud enough to drown out the shouts of the crowd.
But not loud enough to drown out Joanna’s thoughts.
If she waited until after, the deed would be done. The library would be gutted . . . and Liam. What if Liam left town for a better job? That shouldn’t matter, right? Because she was leaving, too. She was going to call Mandy tonight and tell her.
“Joanna!” Kristin’s urgent whisper broke into her thoughts. Joanna realized that she had stopped playing. And that everyone was staring at her.
“She’s gonna do it again!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“No, I’m fine.” She looked at Trina. “Sorry. Can we start again?”
Trina rolled her eyes, but she counted off again.
For a few seconds, Joanna got lost in the music. It was like it always had been, nothing but her and the vibrations of Rosetta. Nothing could replace this. Nothing was better than this.
But some things were just as good. Liam, when he held her close and called her baby. When he dorked out about giving a kid some book he’d read when he was younger. When they argued about what the perfect record was for a Sunday afternoon. When he loved her.
He loved her. And she loved him. God, she loved him so much, and she’d been acting like a child. She’d thrown a fit because her parents were idiots and the world didn’t always go her way, so she’d taken it out on Liam before he realized that the people of Halikarnassus were right, that she was nothing but trouble.
But he didn’t think that. And Phyllis was here, wasn’t she? And Kristin and Trina. Trina didn’t put up with her shit, and she stuck around. And a bunch of people they’d gone to high school with were there, and Gus, and people from all over town. Maybe they were just there to see if she had another meltdown, which was fair. But imminent meltdown notwithstanding, people didn’t hate her. They didn’t like her when she acted like a crazy fool, but, despite her best efforts, they had made her feel welcome back to the community.
And now she was going to thank them by throwing a hissy fit and costing them their library.
Well, if they came here for a meltdown, they were in luck.
She stopped playing. Again. She heard Trina curse behind her, but she didn’t care; she just walked over to Kristin’s mic. She winced at the feedback, but she grabbed it anyway.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. It means a lot to us.” She indicated Kristin and Trina, both of whom were staring their own version of daggers at her. “Listen, something’s happening in this town tonight, and I think it’s more important than rock and roll. So, ah, does anyone have any paper?”
* * *
Liam felt much better with Peggy by his side. Sure, he would have liked Joanna there, at the Town Hall meeting where the fate of the library and his livelihood and reason for being in Halikarnassus was about to be decided.
It felt ironic, somehow, that as soon as he was about to be untethered from the one thing holding him in Halikarnassus, the woman he loved, who really, really hated that tether, had also untethered herself from him.
Had they ever really been tethered, though?
Yeah. Yeah they fucking had been.
God, he missed her.
But he had always been a good reader, and she’d laid it out pretty plainly for him. She was done with him. He had been thoughtless in his panic, but making a mistake did not mean that he didn’t care. One dumb thing did not erase months of love. And if she refused to believe him, what could he do? She’d told him she was damaged goods. He was a fool to think that in a few months, he could erase a lifetime of self-doubt.
Of course he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. But he was really interested in spending a lot more time trying.
Really, really interested.
But what could he do? If every time they disagreed, she took off and left him beating his head against a wall—not a great way to live. Besides, he didn’t know if she was the kind of girl to come back. Which, now that he thought about it, was kind of the wall he was beating his head against.
But he needed to be beating his head against Hal’s wall.
That didn’t sound right.
But you know what, he thought, neither does slashing the operating budget for the library to install a state-of-the-art PA system on the football field. Especially not when the football team sucked. No, it was never okay, but it felt like an extra special slap in the face to pour money into facilities for a team that wasn’t very good. And money for things that would not necessarily make them better. Would they suddenly get better if Coach Simonetti’s Jock Jams played over a better loudspeaker?
Liam had never been one for team sports, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t matter.
Also, Coach Simonetti probably needed some new music to pump up his team.
If only he would come to the library, Liam could look into it for him.
Damn, he should have thought of that earlier, maybe gotten Coach S on his side.
Well, that was unlikely. But Liam was a fool today, so why not.
Peggy squeezed his forearm and he looked over at her. “You’ll be great,” she told him, and he wanted very badly to believe her. She reached for his notes, which he had been unconsciously turning into a wrinkled pulp, and flattened them out on his lap.
“I’ll go up before you, real nice and slow. Work on their sympathy a little.”
Peggy was perfectly capable of walking without assistance, especially for the short distance from the car into City Hall, but she’d decided to break out the cane, the one her insurance covered but that she insisted she would never need again. She was not a helpless old lady, she had told him and Joanna. And, with the volume of her declaration, half of the town.
But she, like many of his patrons, had decided they would do their part. Parents coached kids on the art of public speaking. Business owners talked about the ways Liam had helped them find information on loans and services and entrepreneurship. The girls’ soccer coach talked about the value of the public library in the life of the student athlete.
The library was not just a place for homeless people to check their e-mail, one of them insisted. Although homeless people in Halikarnassus did check their e-mail there, but why shouldn’t they? Liam had more behavior problems with the knitting circle, who had a tendency to get real loud over the advantages of different fiber arts.
“This is all very moving, and thank you for it,” Councilman Maguire said. “But there’s only, what, a dozen of you here? We have to think about what’s good for the entire town.”
“There’s only a dozen people here because you tried to sneak in this meeting without telling anyone,” Doris shouted, earning a bang from the gavel.
“Be that as it may,” Councilman Maguire continued, “we have to look at this responsibly. Mayor Klomberg has brought forth some very compelling figures on the benefits of improving our athletic facilities.”
“For the football team. What about the rest of the school teams?” the soccer coach shouted. She got gaveled, too.
“All right, all right. We’ve heard what you all have to say. Shall we move to close public comment?”
“Wait!”
The doors to the council chambers swung open, and Liam blinked, hard, not sure that what he was seeing was real.
It was Joanna, wearing torn jeans and runny eye makeup, marching toward the podium, waving some crumpled notebook paper.
“Hold on a second,” she said, and she sounded out of breath. Had she run over here from Chet’s?
Then he heard more commotion at the door, and he turned to see Trina and Kristin. Ah, they must have canceled the gig and come over here instead.
That was sweet of her. It wasn’t going to help, but it was sweet.
Then there were more people at the door. He recognized Chet, and Phyllis, who stormed to the empty seat in the front row and stared daggers at Hal. Then more people, folks he recognized from the library, some he didn’t. But as the room filled with people, it felt as if the entire town of Halikarnassus was in there with them.
“Just in time, young lady,” Councilwoman Hopson said. “State your name so this can go on record.”
“Now, hold on,” said Hal. “We were just about to close comments.”
“We were,” agreed Councilman Maguire. “But now we’re not. I’d like to hear what this young lady has to say.”
“Thank you, Councilman Maguire. Uh, hi. Okay. My name is Joanna Green. Most of you know my grandmother, Peggy.” She turned to Peggy, who waved with one hand and squeezed Liam’s hand with the other.
“Oh, I think we know all about you, too,” Councilwoman Hopson said with a smile. “You were quite a troublemaker when you were younger.”
“Yeah, about that. Sorry. I was not a very good kid. And I’d like to take a moment to apologize to my grandmother for putting up with my shit. Oops, my, uh, stuff.”
“Oh, pish,” Peggy said, but her smile widened.
“I know that my reputation precedes me, and I’m not entirely proud of that. But here’s the thing: People change. And things change. When I was a kid, the library was not a place where I felt welcome. I had too much energy and too much sass, and anyway, there was nothing for me there. Now kids like me are actually going to the library of their own free will. Liam has them putting their energy to good use. And little kids—my God, have you been there when storytime lets out? It’s like every kid in Halikarnassus is there. It’s kind of annoying, actually.”
Liam laughed, in spite of himself. He looked down the end of the row at Toni. She mostly looked nervous.
“But, hold on. I’m getting off track. Okay. So, Frank Russell.” She pointed to one of the men who’d come in with her. He was wearing dirty coveralls and a ratty ball cap, and Liam tried to place him, but couldn’t. “Frank went to apply for a job at that big new hotel in Schenectady, you know the one?” The council nodded. “But even though he was applying to be a janitor, he had to fill out an online application. Online! Even though his job had nothing to do with computers! So you know what he did? He went to the library. And now he has a steady job with good benefits. And what about Molly Sprouse? She’s just like I was, kind of a pain in the ass, right?” Molly’s mother, who had come in with Joanna, nodded. “She goes to the library every day after school, and Liam taught her how to shelve. So now she does that instead of getting into all the shit I used to get into. Sorry, stuff.”
“And she made the honor roll!” Molly’s mom shouted.
“And she made the goddamn honor roll,” Joanna repeated into the mic.
“What is your point, Joanna?” Hal asked.
“My point, Hal, is that people in this town love the library. And they need the library.”
“But they had the chance to come out—” Councilman Maguire started.
“Bullshit. Sorry. No, you know what? I’m not sorry. Because that’s bullshit. Nobody even knew about this meeting. The only reason anyone is here is because Liam probably called them personally.”
She looked back at Liam for the first time. He wanted to run up and grab her and squeeze her and kiss her. Instead, he just nodded. Because he had called those people.
“What’s this?” Councilwoman Hopson asked. “An emergency council session must be advertised in advance. That’s why we put it in the paper.”
“It wasn’t in the paper!” Doris shouted.
“But we gave the notice to—” Councilwoman Hopson stopped and looked pointedly at Hal. He had the decency to look sheepish.
“That doesn’t change—”
“Despite that,” Joanna said, cutting off Hal’s excuses. “I have six hundred signatures here that say they support continuing to fund the library.”
There was a buzz in the crowd as Joanna waved the mess of papers around.
“Six hundred?” Hal asked, incredulous. “How did you—”
“Two hundred and seventy-five of those six hundred are actual people who live in town. The rest are . . . well, let’s just say it’s a bunch of words not real flattering to our mayor.”
“Give that to me,” Councilman Maguire said. Joanna approached and handed over the papers. As she walked back, Liam saw her wringing her hands together so hard her knuckles were white.
“Is that . . . does this smell like beer?”
“That’s the finest beer you’ll find in all of New York State,” Gus said from the back of the room, and a cheer went up around him.
Councilman Maguire banged his gavel. “Well, in light of this petition . . . I’m not really sure if this petition is even allowable, is it?” He turned to Councilwoman Hopson, who shrugged.
“Whether or not it’s legal,” she said, “clearly this whole session was a farce. Improperly advertised, out-of-control peanut gallery.” The peanut gallery booed and stomped their feet. “Nonetheless, I say we vote. Gentlemen, all in favor of maintaining current library funding and seeking outside funding for the football stadium, say ‘aye.’”
As each “aye” was mumbled into the chamber, Liam walked over behind Joanna. “Hey,” he said.
“Oh my God, pay attention to the vote!” she said, her eyes wide.
“We got this,” he assured her.
“And the ayes have it. The library funding will remain intact. Thank you, gentlemen!”
There was another bang of the gavel, but Liam didn’t hear it. Most likely nobody heard it over the roar of the crowd bouncing off the walls of the council chamber.
“You did it,” he said, looking at Joanna in wonder.
“I know. I mean, you’re welcome.”
“But your show.”
“Psh, the show. There’ll be other shows. In fact, Chet booked us for this weekend.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I had to promise to actually play this time, but I think I can handle that.”
“Good.” His hands felt useless at his sides as people churned around him, thanking Joanna and slapping him on the back. He nodded a few times, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“So, listen,” she said, taking hold of the end of his tie between her fingers. She studied it like it had all the answers. “I’m so, so sorry. I was stupid. I mean, I was mad, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“No, I’m sorry—”
“Liam, you didn’t do anything wrong. Of course you were going to choose the library over the band. Even if it was your band, you’d choose the library. I shouldn’t have even questioned that.”
“Well, regardless. The library thanks you.”
“Well, please tell the library you’re welcome.”
“I will.” She wouldn’t look up from his tie. He wanted to put his arms around her, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what was coming next.
“Here’s the thing,” she said to his tie. “I’m very glad about the library. Very glad. That was stupid—football lights instead of a library? Come on.”
Finally, she looked up at him. “But the truth is, I did it for you. I did it to prove that I’m done running away. This is my home, and I’m going to fight for it.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I can get a job at the library?”
“Hmm. I’m pretty sure that will be a conflict of interest.”
“Oh yeah?”
She smiled, and he put his arms around her. It felt right. She let go of his tie and leaned into him, and that felt right, too. “Yeah. It’s not a good idea to manage the person you’re in love with.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Wait, I mean . . . you are?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her and watched the emotions cross her face. The joy, the fear, and, finally, the love.
“Me too,” she said.
Good, he wanted to say. Finally. But she reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him, right in the council chamber, in front of a crowd of hooting patrons.
Man, she was trouble.
He loved trouble.