Turning Pages

Chapter Fourteen

FOURTEEN 

I tried to call Melanie four times, but she wouldn't answer. When I got into work the next morning, Blake told me she'd left a message on the library phone, calling in sick. I was plenty sick myself. I hated that we'd fought. I hated that she felt I was judging her. I hated that she might be eloping with Luke that very minute. My birthday, which was my twentieth and should have been awesome, was turning out to be the worst ever. 

"Do you have any more romance novels like this one?" Mrs. Harlowe interrupted my train of thought, pointing to the book in her hand. The cover was one of those awful renditions of a buxom blond swooning against a muscle-bound hero, both of them practically naked. "I've now read everything on the shelf twice."  

I fought down my grimace. "I'll check the computer to see if you've missed anything in our collection, but we haven't purchased any new books for a little while. Let me see what I can do." 

"No new books?" She looked distressed. "But you always buy new books. Why did you stop?" 

"Remember how the city is building a new library? Our book budget is going to be used to stock it when it's built."  

"But . . . what am I going to do in the meantime? I need new books, Addie. You know I do." 

I closed my eyes for a moment, then forced them back open. I'd been up late the night before helping Mom sort through some random boxes of nothingness, and I was upset about Melanie, and something in me snapped. "You could try reading something with a little bit of redeeming value to it, Mrs. Harlowe. This library is filled with wonderful classics, and I've never seen you pick up even one of them. Instead, you waste your time with this . . . this rubbish. You're killing brain cells. Why would you do that to yourself?" 

She blinked. "You know, I guess you're right. I'm sure there are several other books here I would enjoy . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Thank you, Addie. I'll go look around and see what I can find." She moved away, but not before I heard her sniff. 

I turned abruptly, feeling terrible for what I'd just said, and ran smack into Blake. He stood there, arms folded, with a look I'd never seen on his face. It was beyond disapproving-it was disappointed. 

"I'll see you in the office, Addie." 

I turned and walked around the counter, shame burning in my chest. I took a seat, wishing it was a portal to another world, one without any Blakes, and one where I could rewind and not say awful things the second time around. He entered, closed the door, and sat at the head of the table, where he had every right to be. 

"That was badly done, Addie," he said. "That woman has been coming in here for years, from what I'm told. She's always kind to us, she returns her books on time, and did you notice that her name is up on the sponsor wall as one of our biggest donors?" I had noticed. I was the one who'd ordered the plaque. "I know you're worried about Melanie, but that doesn't give you the right to pop off at whoever gets in your way. Mrs. Harlowe doesn't deserve that." 

Blake's voice was calm, but it seared through me. He was right. He was always right. I stood up and ran out of the library, tears rolling down my cheeks in earnest now. I'd been sharp and rude, and I had no right to cast judgment on Mrs. Harlowe because of her choice in reading material. What made Blake's chastisement all the worse was that in his voice, I could hear the echo of my father, saying something similar to me when I was about twelve. I'd made an unkind comment about an ugly dress a little girl had worn to church that day, and he pulled me aside and told me that dress was the only one she owned because her family was so poor. Hearing those words from Blake, instead of my father, just emphasized to me that my father wasn't there, and I cried all the harder, hiding behind the huge pine tree on the library property.