Chapter Nineteen
Marshall
On Monday morning after breakfast, I did something I hadn’t done in ages: I drove down to the local library.
I dug through my wallet looking for a Summerville library card and couldn’t find it. The last time I had owned a library card, I had lived in Sulphur Springs, Texas. Not having ever been to the library here, I didn’t know whether they would give me a card for free or if I would have to buy one. Walking up to the front desk, I felt the same shyness and sense of trepidation I had felt in the parking lot on Saturday night waiting for Lori to come out.
“Can I get a library card?” I asked the librarian, a middle-aged woman in green tortoise-shell glasses and a Doctor Who t-shirt.
“Sure. Do you have photo ID and proof of address?”
“Yeah, one second.” I ran back to the truck and rummaged through my glove box until I found a recent electricity bill. The librarian punched a few words into her computer, and a machine behind her began printing out my library card.
I stared in surprise. “I thought it was going to take at least a week. Don’t you have to send away for it?”
The librarian glared at me coolly as if wondering whether I had ever been in a library.
I grabbed my new library card and headed off toward the stacks, filled with a sense of adventure. There were so many books, and I had no idea where to start. Eventually, I was able to track down a guide to the Dewey Decimal system and found a couple basic introductions to romance and dating in the 640s. I checked these out and carried them back to the truck, leafing through them as I went.
I was on my way back to the house when my phone buzzed in the passenger seat. It was Mom.
I put her on speakerphone.
“Hey, Marshall, what have you been up to?” In the background, I could hear what sounded like a can opener whirring. Dad must have been helping her make lunch.
“I just got back from the library where, you’ll be pleased to hear, I checked out a couple books.”
“That’s wonderful.” A note of suspicion crept into her voice. “What’s gotten into you? Are you seeing a girl?”
It wasn’t a question I could answer with any certainty. “Maybe? I went out on a date Saturday, but she went home early.”
I could hear Mom sighing on the other end of the line. “Marshall, you have to stop scaring girls away. We’ve talked about this.” She added in a tone of concern, “What have you been eating lately? Something other than fast food, I hope.”
“Mama, you don’t give me enough credit. I cook most of my meals. Sean cooks the rest. In fact, I’ve only been to Wendy’s once in the last month, and it was a nugget emergency.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Your dad and I have been having some trouble with the barn. It was already old, and the recent floods weren’t exactly good to it. Curtis and Darren were out there looking at it a couple days ago. They said the flooding really compromised its structural integrity, and it needs to be torn down and rebuilt before it collapses.”
“Yikes! That’s gonna cost you some money.” I raised a hand to Old Joe, who was just passing by on his Harley.
“I know, which we can’t really afford at the moment. We already shelled out quite a bit of money tearing out and replacing the carpet in the house after the flood. Somehow, the tiny house didn’t get even an inch of water. We’d have been better off staying in there during the storm.”
“Well, the grass in the back pasture probably absorbed some of the moisture.” As I pulled into my driveway, a thought occurred to me. “I know you and Dad are strapped for cash right now. If you want, and if he doesn’t have any objections, I could send you the money to replace the barn.”
Mom sounded simultaneously thrilled and alarmed. “Do you have any idea how much money we’re talking about? It’s going to be upwards of fifty thousand dollars.”
“I can afford it. With the amount of money I’ve been bringing in lately, it’s not a problem. It’s gotten to the point where I can sit down and make ten, twenty-five thousand dollars in an hour without breaking a sweat, and there’s an invitational coming up in a few weeks where I ought to make even more than that.”
“That’s good to hear. I don’t like the thought of you going hungry because you sent me and your dad all your money. The barn is important, but I want you to look after yourself.”
By now, the rain was drumming lightly against the top of the car. I told Mom I would send her the money within a few days; I was eager to get back inside and make lunch.
“Well, it was nice hearing from you,” said Mom. “Darren’s been busy, and the only one of you I see with any regularity is Curtis. I’ll have the two of them pick up the equipment we need to finish restoring the barn, but I want you to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That when they fix it, you’ll fly out here and help.”
“Promise.”
She told me she loved me and hung up. I sat there for a moment watching the rain lap against the windshield. Sending them fifty thousand was going to set me back quite a bit, but I was doing it for myself as much as for them. Ever since discovering poker in college, there had been complaints in the family that I didn’t have a “real job” and had never worked a day in my life. This in spite of the fact that I could make more money in a weekend than any of my brothers made in a year. Giving them the money was a way of reminding them that I worked, that I made money, and that I would always be willing to help out when they needed it.
My fridge and cupboard were almost empty, but I made a stir-fry with what was left of the sausage and a bag of Asian-style vegetables I found in the back of the freezer. It would have been better with soy sauce, but I had used the last of that on the Kung Pao chicken I had made the week before. I poured myself a frothy glass of root beer and sat down at the island in the center of the kitchen, leafing through the books I had checked out.
Visiting the library had been my only real plan for the day, and now I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with the rest of my afternoon. I could run by the lumberyard, but I was getting tired of Sean and his grandfather’s antics. The rain made my eyes heavy, and it was tempting to climb back into bed, but I was already sensitive to accusations that I spent all day lying around without actually working. Of course, no one would know if I took a nap in the middle of the day, but I would know, and I would feel bad about it.
What I hated even more was the lack of resolution that had lingered over my date with Lori since I left the bakery on Saturday night. We hadn’t exactly ended the date on the best note, and I had spent the last couple days wondering what I might have done to upset her. The dating guides I had checked out didn’t offer many clues, apart from some advice about not having sex on the first date. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to think maybe I had come on too strong.
In the end, I decided to visit the bakery and find out. Gulping down the last of my root beer, I set my plate in the sink, grabbed a coat, and stalked back out into the rain.
The dining area was mostly empty when I arrived. Three girls were having a Bible study in the back corner; they probably wouldn’t have been pleased to learn what Lori and I had been doing there just two nights before. There was only one person in front of me in line, a middle-aged woman with hot pink nails and bracelets that jangled when she walked.
Lori was turned around preparing a cup of coffee and froze when she saw me. The customer in front of me studied her curiously, as though worried about her.
“Hey, Marshall,” said Lori. “Be right with you.”
It was impossible to tell from the tone of her voice whether she was pleased to see me. I waited until the bracelet lady had shuffled off with her soy latte before approaching the counter.
“Hey.” I wanted to ask her about Saturday, but I remembered the warning from the book I had been reading about coming on too strong. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just—it’s been a week.” Lori brushed her hair back out of her face, looking flustered. “But at least we’re not hurting for money, and I’m really proud of the new bookshelf. Don’t you love it?”
“I do,” I said without hesitation. “You’re going to encourage so much more reading by putting that up. You’ve already gotten me to start reading more.”
“Oh?” There was a note of surprise in her voice. I told her about how I had run by the library that morning, but I didn’t mention the type of books I had checked out, and she didn’t ask.
“Well,” she said with a laugh, “if that’s all I ever manage to accomplish in your life, I’ll be satisfied. Everyone deserves the joy of reading—fiction and non-fiction.”
I made a mental note to check out a novel or two the next time I was at the library. “What books do you recommend?”
“Oh man, that’s about the hardest question you can ask a bookworm,” said Lori, “right up there with asking me to list a favorite book. Man, do you even know what you’re asking?” She launched into a short list of books she had read in the last year, which included a spooky novel about the circus and a young adult novel about two boys who fall in love. I nodded along quietly, relieved that she hadn’t immediately shunted me out of the store and that she didn’t seem to be upset about Saturday night. Whatever had happened between us that night, I could ask her later. In the meantime, it was a pleasure to hear her rave about books.
She was just launching into an excited rant about Norse mythology when the front door opened, and a man wearing a pair of pressed slacks, a suit jacket, and sunglasses stepped into the room. With purposeful stride, he walked up to the counter and set a leather briefcase down on the counter.
Something in the way he looked at Lori filled me with a sense of foreboding. Lori must have felt the same way, for she studied him nervously.
“Ms. Hurst?” he asked. “Lori Hurst?”
“Speaking,” said Lori.
“Good.” He opened his briefcase with a snap and peered over it at her. “Is your sister here? I’d like to speak with her, too. This is something you’re both going to want to be present for, and it might help if we were sitting down.”