4
Kristin
I hadn’t had many occasions to venture out onto Route 5 since my arrival in Chandler, and I tried to take in the beautiful scenery around me. Much of this immediate area was dotted with forestry and farms, and there were some signs of greenery and budding trees pushing up, letting me know that springtime really was closing in on us.
I watched the street signs for Martin Way and found it just a mile or so up on the left of Route 5. I turned up the street, which was just a long driveway surrounded by white, wooden fencing. The drive up was longer than I had anticipated, and I could see some horses walking freely on the farm to the left of me. As I got further along, there was a large house looming up at the top of the hill, the largest I had seen in Chandler. Further down the hill was a smaller, ranch-style house on the left with a larger barn area well behind the home.
I slowly pulled up to the home on the left and saw the number 2 posted on the front porch. I pulled my car into the small driveway behind the pickup truck and turned the car engine off. I reached over and grabbed my copy of Dracula off the front seat next to me and got out of the car.
I walked up the front steps of the porch and looked for a doorbell but didn’t see one. There was a bell you could clang to the right of the door, but to me, that seemed a bit loud to ring, so I knocked on the door instead. I could start to feel some chill on my legs as I stood waiting outside when a voice seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Who is it?” I heard a voice say over some type of intercom. I looked around to see where the voice was coming from and it was then that I noticed a camera perched at an angle above the door, pointing down at me.
I turned and looked at the camera, getting closer to it. “I’m Kristin Arthur, the librarian at the Chandler library. You sent me an email about a book.” I held up the copy of Dracula closer to the camera so it could be seen.
“Hold on,” the voice replied to me. I stood nervously, glancing at the camera and the front door, wondering why a horse farm in Chandler would need so much security.
Moments later, the front door opened and there stood a young girl. Her long brown hair was braided into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder. The girl was striking, much taller than me, with piercing blue eyes and the soft, beautiful skin girls that age would die for. I smiled at her through the screen door between us.
“Hi,” I said to her happily, holding up the book. “Are you Isabelle?”
“I am,” she told me, seeming a bit wary as to why I was here. “I thought you would just mail the book to me,” she said, surprised to see me standing there.
“Well, you weren’t far from the library, so I thought I would just bring it over to you. I hope that’s okay.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said as she opened the screen door. “We don’t get a lot of people out this way is all.” I handed the book over to her.
“It’s probably none of my business,” I said to her, “but why did you want Dracula?”
“Oh, well my grandmother is sick, and I read to her sometimes,” Isabelle said, looking down at the book. “She’s trying to go over some of the classics that she read when she was younger and looks for ones I haven’t read already. It’s getting harder for her to find books I haven’t read, so she picked this one.”
“Well it’s a great book, I’m sure you will really enjoy it,” I told her, trying to make some conversation with her.
“When do you need it back?” Isabelle asked me.
“No rush,” I told her, brushing my blonde hair out of my eyes. “Just bring it to the library when you are done.”
“Okay, thanks,” Isabelle said. She smiled at me, giving me a radiant smile. She seemed grateful to have the book. “It was really nice of you to bring it out here.”
“Well,” I said to her, “I’m new here, so I’m trying my best to get out, meet people, and let them know that the library has a lot to offer the community. I’m happy to bring you anything else you may want to read if you want something else for your grandmother, or you.”
“Great,” Isabelle replied. “I’ll keep that in mind. I need to get back to my grandmother,” she said as she took a step back into the house.
“Sure,” I said to her as I walked back towards the steps. “You have a nice day,” I told her as I turned and walked down the steps towards my car.
I got into my car and backed out of the driveway and headed towards the exit. I could see Isabelle standing by the door, and she gave me a light wave as I drove away.
The whole situation seemed a little peculiar to me. It must be difficult to have to take care of a sick relative at a young age, and I wondered where the rest of her family was.
I was back at the library in minutes and decided to leave my car there instead of driving it back home. I parked in the small lot next to our building and I walked back into the library, feeling proud of my delivery. Karen was behind the counter, sitting idly while a few patrons were at tables reading.
“Where did you go?” Karen asked me as I took off my coat and walked into my office.
“I dropped a book off to someone who wanted it for a sick relative,” I told her. “It’s good if word gets around that we’re willing to help out people like that.”
“I suppose so,” Karen answered. “Where did you have to go?”
“Martin Way on Route 5,” I said to her as I sat at my desk. “Do you know them?”
“The Martins?” Karen said as she sat down opposite me. “Everyone in town knows the Martins,” she said, shocked I didn’t know who they were.
“Why is that?” I asked her, picking up my now tepid cup of coffee.
“Well, the family has been around here forever. Wyatt and his wife Jenny own the horse farm, but it’s Wes that everyone knows,” Karen said to me.
“Who’s Wes Martin?” I asked, still confused.
“Seriously Kris?” she asked me incredulously. Karen stood up from her chair and walked over to me, nudging me out of the way so she could use my computer. She typed Wes Martin into the search engine, and up popped pictures of a man in a baseball uniform. I looked closely at the picture, and I could see the same incredible eyes in front of me that I had just seen on Isabelle. Wes Martin had a rugged look to him on the close-up picture I saw. He had heavy stubble on his face, and even though he was flashing a small smile, you could see the serious and stern look of an athlete there.
Karen scrolled down the page to find other pictures, including one of him in a swimsuit by a pool. The man was well put together, muscles in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, so you could see that he clearly took good care of himself.
“So, he’s a baseball player?” I asked, feeling awkward because I never really followed baseball at all.
Karen rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, Kris, he’s a baseball player. He’s basically Chandler’s claim to fame. He’s played for the Pirates since he was a teenager with their minor league teams, so he’s the ’local boy made it big.’ He’s not around here much, but that big house on Martin Way is his, and he gives a lot back to the community. He built the local Little League fields, and he gives money wherever he can to help Chandler.”
I sat back in my chair still looking at his picture. “Well, his daughter seemed very nice. I guess his wife was up at the house and they help out with the grandmother?”
“Oh no,” Karen said, sitting on the edge of my desk, glad to hand out some gossip. “His wife left him about eight years ago. I guess she didn’t like the life of being a millionaire baseball player’s wife. I heard she packed up and went to New York and hooked up with some hedge fund guy worth a ton of dough. What a gold-digger. Jenny, Wes’ mother, has been fighting cancer for a while now. She’s such a sweet woman. I guess Wyatt and Isabelle take care of her.”
Someone rang the small bell at the front desk and Karen scurried out of the office to help whoever was there. I sat at my desk and stared at the pictures of Wes Martin, captivated by his looks and wondering how tough it must be for him, juggling a life where he is never home, acting as a single dad, taking care of his family, and having a career in the spotlight. I admired him for how he was able to do everything and keep smiling in these pictures, and wondered what went on behind those captivating eyes.