Louisiana Saves the Library (21 page)

C
HAPTER
31

W
hen Louise woke up, she was alone. She glanced at the clock and panicked. It was eight o'clock. The kids never slept that late. She was just going to run to their rooms when she remembered that Max and Zoe were in New Orleans with Brendan and Julia. Sal had stayed overnight.

As she slowly got out of bed, Louise continued to ride the emotional roller coaster. She'd impulsively led Sal to her bedroom and they'd made love. Afterward, they'd eaten the pasta and drunk the champagne, talking until after midnight. The warm glow from the previous night was dulled by the knowledge that Sal had left before she'd woken up. Had she done something wrong? Scared him off somehow?

But as she walked downstairs to the kitchen, she caught the scent of coffee. Sal was here. Or he'd made a pot and left. She rounded the corner and saw him at the table, his muscular shoulders hunched as he read something on his smartphone. He put it away quickly.

Louise wished she had more exciting pajamas than her old T-shirt and ratty flannel pants. She ran her hand through her hair in a belated effort to make it look presentable.

“I would have made breakfast, but I figured you didn't want burnt eggs,” Sal said. “Coffee is the only thing I know how to cook.”

“That's all I need anyway,” Louise said. She poured herself a cup and sat across from him. The night had been perfect. She'd been too happy and excited to sleep at first, and then she'd rested better than any time she could remember. Did he feel the same way?

Sal finished his coffee. “I wish I could stay, but I have to supervise my workers, mend about five holes in the fence, and do ten or so other things that I can't remember right now.”

“That's okay. I have a bunch of stuff to do before the kids get home.” Louise stood up, gulping down half her coffee.

“Wait.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I'll call you later.”

Louise nodded. She was still holding her coffee mug and she sipped from it distractedly as he opened the door and left.

 

After finishing her grocery shopping and other errands, Louise paced the house, waiting for the kids to get home. She went into the living room, opened the blinds, and watched the street for a moment. Maybe a glass of wine would help her relax. She poured some cheap merlot into a jelly glass and sat in front of her computer, momentarily forgetting that she still didn't have an Internet connection. She picked up the novel she'd borrowed from the library instead and read the first page three times without understanding any of it.

She gulped some wine and scrubbed the dried food and marker from the cabinets. Why weren't they back? Hadn't Brendan said six o'clock? The timer beeped, indicating that her rice was done. She turned off the burner and looked out the window again. Nothing.

Her arm was aching from the furious cleaning when she heard tires crunching on the driveway. She sprang up and saw the rental car pull in behind the van. Julia got out, her long, thin legs covered by skin-tight black jeans with rhinestones on the pockets. She lifted Zoe out of her car seat and set her down on the front lawn. Watching from the window, Louise hoped Zoe would run toward the house, excited to be home, but she squatted down and examined a yellow dandelion instead. She was wearing a new purple dress and had a matching bow in her hair.

Louise went outside and ran to embrace her daughter. “Zoe!”

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Did you have fun with your daddy and Ms. Julia?”

“Yeah.” Zoe picked the weed and held it in her fist. “Flower.”

Julia unhooked the car seat. “Where should I put this?”

“In the house,” Louise said. She tried to take Zoe's hand, but the girl pulled away.

Max jumped out of the car and hugged Louise. “Can I watch a show?”

“Okay.” Louise couldn't say no to anything he wanted right now. Did he feel abandoned by her? Confused that his dad was back in his life?

Max ran across the lawn and up to the front door. “That will be a great idea,” he said, employing one of his favorite phrases. Louise didn't know where he'd picked it up, but she'd given up trying to explain that it wasn't quite correct.

Brendan got Max's car seat and followed Julia toward the house. “We have to get going. We had a great time, didn't we, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Max said in his usual deadpan voice.

Julia went back to the car and got the kids' bags, leaving them in the hallway with the safety seats. Brendan watched her with affection and desire, just like he used to look at Louise. Louise would have to get accustomed to that, like all the other new things in her world. There were good things, though. Sal especially.

“We're closing on our house on the thirtieth,” Brendan said. “It's right by A&M, in University Heights.”

“I know where that is,” Louise said. It was an expensive area, but they could probably afford it because of Julia's family inheritance, trust fund, or whatever. So, maybe now that they were married, Louise could expect more child support. Sylvia was right; she should try to enjoy the advantages of having Brendan and Julia around.

“We're hoping to move in right after school ends, in May. I'll let you know.”

“Great,” Louise said.

“I wish you'd gotten Max's hair cut before the wedding. It sticks up in the back,” Brendan said, descending the stairs to his car.

All Louise's good feelings melted away. As soon as they moved to town, everything she did would be examined under the Brendan microscope.

C
HAPTER
32

L
ouise backed the van out of her long, still muddy driveway. The rain had lasted for three days, delaying Sal's plan to have a load of gravel delivered. He had repainted the cabinets and replaced the kitchen linoleum with plain but beautiful deep-brown tiles. She'd rewarded him with a dinner of lasagna and pie, feeling like it wasn't nearly enough. He seemed to enjoy the work, though. Max was fascinated with his every move, from laying tile to eating salad. Sal endured the attention with grace, answering every question, no matter how convoluted or personal. Louise liked having him around the house. Even when they were in different rooms—she did laundry and cleaned the bedrooms while he worked on the kitchen—his presence made her happy. She didn't want the weekend to end, but now it was Monday and time to go back to work.

Turning down the street, Louise saw a sign in front of the Pettigrew house. She pulled in front and stopped to read it.

“Let's GO!” Max said from the backseat.

“Just a minute.” Louise read the sign again, out loud this time. “ ‘Sign petition to close library. Book-burning party! CitizensAgainstHedonism.com.' ”

“I like parties,” Max said.

Louise continued down the street, driving slowly so she could think. The sign had to be the work of the Gund's minions.

On the way to the day care, she counted ten more signs: “Burn
The Hunger Games
!” “Burn
Harry Potter
!” “Burn
Fahrenheit 451
!”

At the library, Hope was standing in Sylvia's cubicle, looking at the computer screen over her shoulder.

“The book-burning crazies have a Facebook page,” Sylvia said. “Take a look. It's unbelievable.”

Louise clocked in, poured a cup of coffee, and went into her cubicle. When the computer finally booted up, she found the page. At the top was a photo of orange flames. “If it's the Bible, read it. If it's not the Bible, burn it.” “Come to the party—burn the books.” The other posts were lists of bands and other entertainment for the book-burning party. There was going to be a bouncy house and a clown. Louise leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Her phone rang.

“I hope you did your hair this morning,” Breaux said.

“What does that have to do with anything? And who's putting up those signs everywhere?” Louise said.

“I don't know, but there's going to be a TV reporter from Channel Six at your library before lunch. Be warned.”

“How'd they find out about this already?”

“I called them. Don't you see? This will help you. People will get mad and take your side.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Nobody likes book burners.” Breaux hung up.

“I'm gonna find out who these nutjobs are and tell them where they can put those signs,” Hope said.

“I just talked to Breaux. He says a TV reporter's coming.”

“Shoot, and me one day from my beauty appointment. I need me a lipstick touch-up.” Hope took her purse into the bathroom.

“Got a comment on the Facebook page,” Sylvia said. “Brianna Rogers writes, ‘Y'all are sick.' ”

“Is she in the library right now?”

“I think so. She came in this morning like always.”

“We should go see if she'll stick around to be interviewed by the TV reporter.” Louise left her desk and went into the patron area. Brianna was at one of the computers, surrounded by Ms. Trudy, Eloise, and five other people that Louise didn't recognize.

“They can't do this,” a man wearing coveralls said. “Close the library and burn books? I mean, that's illegal, right?”

“If they get one thousand signatures, they can put it to an election,” Ms. Trudy said. “That's what we're trying to do right now, except that we're
for
the library. We need signatures to get a library tax on the ballot.”

“Where do I sign?” the man asked.

Everyone in the library gathered around to put their names on Ms. Trudy's petition. As they were finishing, a woman wearing heavy makeup and a tiny skirt came in, followed by a man carrying a camera. Louise went in the back and announced, “The media is here.”

Sylvia and Hope practically ran her over in their rush to get to the patron area.

 

The following day, Hope arrived at the library two hours late, lugging her giant-size Crock-Pot. “Made y'all my famous chicken and dumplings.”

Louise poured water into the coffeepot. “Smells great.”

“Thanks. Reason I'm late is my nutbird neighbor Hilda. She got a big old dead tree in her yard. Can't afford to get it cut down 'cause she sends her whole social security check to that useless son of hers in Alexandria. Never got him a real job. Runs an art studio or something up there. She showed me pictures once, and I'll tell you what, I wouldn't let my momma look at that stuff. Anyways, like I was saying, that tree dropped a branch in the wind last night. Knocked out the power to my house. Had to get Louisiana Power out, then call Winston this morning to come and cut off all the branches hanging over my place. I had enough of that tree.”

“I can imagine,” Louise said. She needed caffeine. The coffee was dripping much too slowly.

“So I brung the chicken and dumplings because I want to teach the recipe for my first cooking class tomorrow. Sylvia got a bunch of camp stoves lined up.”

“You're still going to risk the wrath of our Zumba-hating boss? Even after he told you your cooking was crap or whatever?” Louise said.

“Yup. I called Marty Pratt, and she wants to bring some of her friends. Mr. Foley can't say nothing. Anyway, I've had it with him. He wants, he can fire me. Probably he's one of those book burners.” Hope dragged the worktable closer to the wall and plugged in the Crock-Pot.

Lily came in and poured herself a cup of coffee, not appearing to notice that Louise was about to grab the carafe. She stirred in some artificial sweetener and walked over to examine the slow cooker. “You put carrots in there?”

“'Course,” Hope said. “Who makes chicken and dumplings without carrots?”

“Adds a nice splash of color,” Lily said.

Hope rolled her eyes at Lily's back. “Don't matter to me how it looks. I'm making food, not a painting or something.”

Lily shrugged and carried her mug back out to the circulation desk. Louise poured a cup of coffee and jogged in place for a minute, trying to wake up.

Sylvia came in and sniffed the air. “What's that divine smell?”

“Hope's chicken and dumplings,” Louise said.

“Ah, so we're finally worthy!”

“Y'all earned it,” Hope said. “I'll admit, I was getting plenty bored sitting around here until you two came along. I didn't think much of y'all at first, but you done livened this place up. People want to come here now. I can't hardly go to the Piggly Wiggly without someone asking me questions about the library. Nobody done that before. And this book-burning thing really has people up in arms. Haven't seen this town so angry about something since the Gund pulled her stunt with the trailer park.”

“Wait till they see what I have planned next. We're going to have a dance. Ages thirteen to eighteen,” Sylvia said.

“A dance at the library?” Hope said, glancing toward Mr. Foley's empty office.

“The kids were telling me that the school isn't having one until the prom in May. And that's just for the juniors and seniors. So I thought, why not? Gets them in the library. And it'll be book-themed, of course. I'm thinking
Gone with the Wind
.”

Hope shook her head. “You got guts, I'll give you that.”

“I'm not letting any old fogey tell me what I can do. When's lunch?”

“No one's touching my pot till noon. Even Mr. Foley. Where is the cranky bastard?”

“Mr. Henry said he had to go out of town. I'm guessing it's goat-related,” Louise said. “He won't be back until tomorrow.”

“Good.” Hope patted the Crock-Pot. “He said he hated my food anyways.”

Later that afternoon, Louise was working the circulation desk when Brianna, Ms. Trudy, Eloise, and Eleanor came in. They all wore identical neon-green T-shirts.

“What do you think?” Ms. Trudy asked, turning around to show the back of the shirt.

“ ‘Improve libraries. Improve lives. Sign the petition:
Save the Alligator Bayou Parish Libraries,
' ” Louise read out loud. “I like it.”

“Of course we'll have to get new ones when we get this thing on the ballot. I'm thinking, ‘Vote yes to literacy. Vote yes to culture.' ”

“How many signatures do you have so far?” Louise said.

“I don't exactly know because I handed out sheets to just about everyone I could think of. Mr. Jude at the Piggly Wiggly, Betta at the Cut and Dye, and the pastors of all the local churches. I reckon we'll get a thousand easy,” Ms. Trudy said.

“I hope so because those book burners claim they already have that many.”

“Don't you believe it. They're just blowing smoke. Get it? Blowing smoke?”

Eloise and Eleanor laughed. Their T-shirts hung nearly to their knees. They must have ordered them in the sizes they wore before old age began to shrink their bodies.

A group of teenagers came in wearing the green shirts over their uniforms.

“Good, y'all wore them to school!” Brianna said, clapping her hands.

“We sure did, Ms. Brianna. They made us take them off for class, but we put them back on as soon as school was over. We're gonna wear them until y'all get a thousand signatures,” a tall African American girl named Chante said. She was one of the most dedicated teen club members, participating in every event Sylvia held.

Mary was at the back of the crowd. Her green shirt fit her like a dress. She sidled around the edge of the girls, leaned over the counter, and whispered to Louise, “Smells like chicken and dumplings in here.”

“Ms. Hope made it. Come on back and I'll give you what's left,” Louise said.

Mary glanced back at the teenagers, but they were already headed to the young adult section. “I'd love some,” she said, following Louise to the back.

“Are you hanging out with those girls now?” Louise asked.

“A little, I guess. They let me tag along,” Mary said. “They don't make fun of me, at least.”

“Nice shirt,” Hope said when she saw Mary.

“Thanks. Ms. Trudy designed them. She said since we are too young to sign the petition, we have to be walking billboards.”

“Glad to know she's found a use for teenagers. You want some of my chicken and dumplings?”

“Yes, please, ma'am,” Mary said.

Hope scraped the rest of the mixture onto a plate. There was exactly enough for one serving, almost as if she'd been saving it for the girl.

Louise went back to the circulation desk. Ms. Trudy stood by the door with her clipboard, waiting for more people to arrive so that she could pester them to sign her petition. Louise shook her head. It was a good thing Mr. Foley was out of town. He would have run her off in a second.