Leaving Liberty (31 page)

           
“Not now you don’t!” Daisy struggled to get up, her hands sinking deeper into
the ooze. She made it upright, straining to see behind her own back. “I’m
covered in mud. I look like a mud monster.”

           
Ana’s lips curved up. “Only from the front. Just don’t turn around.” She
escaped into the library.

           
“Let’s get you under the porch,” Nita said, waving her toward the small overhang
near the basement entrance. She bent down, inspecting the scrape. “You’re going
to have a mighty fine bruise there. It’s a war wound to take back.”

           
They huddled together, watching the rain pour down. Daisy wrapped her arms
around her middle and fought back the ache in her throat. There was still no
word on the grants. The festival was scheduled in the pouring rain. The hot cop
was expected any moment and she was bleeding and covered in mud. Her life
stunk.

           
“I appreciate all you’ve done for us this summer,” Nita said softly.

           
Daisy sniffed back tears and nodded, determined to hold it together. “My
pleasure.”

           
Nita laughed, shaking her head. “Not always. You can’t tell me you were having
a great time writing all those grant applications or calling city residents and
asking for donations.”

           
She shrugged, the cold dampness of her shirt sending chills through her body.
“Not that it mattered. We’re hardly any closer to saving this library. I feel
like I failed Marie.”

           
Nita fixed her gaze on her. “You can’t be serious.”

           
“This library meant everything to her. It was the one thing that mattered in
this town and I can’t keep it from being shut down.” Her throat closed
completely and hot tears slipped out from the corners of her eyes.

           
 “Daisy McConnell, that is not true.”

           
She sniffed loudly, unable to speak. How could it be otherwise?

           
“The one thing that mattered to Marie was not this library. It was the people
of Liberty. And you. You were the one person she loved more than any other.”

           
Daisy raised her eyes, unable to keep the tears from flowing down her cheeks.
Nita was right. Gruff, bossy Nita had pegged Marie. She nodded, swallowing
hard. “I think you’re right. Without the kids, Marie wouldn’t have kept running
this place.”

           
Nita faced the rain again. “I miss her.”

           
“Me, too,” Daisy whispered. The only sound was the rain pounding on the little
roof above them. She’d thought if she saved the library, she’d keep Marie’s
memory alive. That was an empty hope, a trap. Marie was so much bigger than
this place. Her love lived on in every kid she’d helped and in every person
she’d served.

           
“There they are.” Nita pointed down the sidewalk. Three patrol cars drove down
Main Street, lights flashing. They all pulled to a stop and six officers exited
the vehicles in unison.

           
“Did they think we were in trouble?” Daisy was horrified that Ana might have
placed a 911 call for nothing.

           
They rushed out from the overhang to meet the group under the big oak. Daisy’s
leg ached with every step. The rain still fell steadily through the branches,
but it was just enough cover they could talk. Lane scoped out the yard, blue
eyes narrowed, tension in every line of his face.

           
“Ana rang the station and said you guys needed help.” Butch looked toward the library.
“Is the roof falling in?”

           
“I think there’s been a big misunderstanding.” Daisy felt her face go hot.

           
Ana came down the library steps, popping the red umbrella back into shape.
“Wow, you guys are fast! Sorry about that call. The phone cut off.”

           
Daisy straightened her shoulders. This was her fault. “We just need to set the
booths on the patio over there. We can’t seem to get it over the grass without
slipping, and it’s tearing up the wood.”

           
There was a moment of silence and Lane started to laugh. “Calling 911 for help
and hanging up will get you some help, that’s for sure.”

           
“We’re headed back to the station,” an older man said, already leading his
fellow officers to the patrol cars that idled at the curb, lights still
flashing.

           
“Butch and I can carry the booths.” Lane gestured and the two stepped out from
under the tree. She tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her leg and forced a
smile as he passed.

           
“I feel guilty, like I should be helping,” Daisy said.

           
“Don’t know why. We tried. No sense in doing the job wrong if there’s someone
here to help us do it right.”

           
Minutes later the booths were arranged on the cement car park at the side of
the library. Lane approached, tugging his cap. Daisy felt her heart squeeze a
bit at the familiar sight: the dark hair soaked with rain, his police–issue
rain slicker, the black cap and under it those bright blue eyes.

           
“Is that all you needed? I can stick around for a bit since I’m on my lunch
hour now.” He seemed nervous, his smile tighter than usual. Maybe he hated the
rain as much as she did, maybe he just didn’t like being yanked out of the
station for furniture moving duties.

           
Daisy shook her head. ““I’m really sorry about that phone call and I appreciate
your help. You should go conserve your strength for this weekend. Being the
main draw in the dunk tank is no small role. You’re our last hope of saving the
library.”

           
She’d meant the words lightly, but they came out flat.

           
His gaze searched her face, as if noticing for the first time she had been
crying. “I’ll be there. Whatever you need.”

           
His words hung in the air. Daisy nodded and tried to look enthusiastic. “I’ll
let you know.”

           
Lane nodded and Butch gave a jaunty salute. She let out a breath of relief. He
hadn’t noticed her pig-in-the-mud impression, apparently. As he turned, his
gaze traveled down her outfit and he froze.

           
Seconds later he was crouched in front of her, one hand gently lifting the torn
material of her pants leg.

           
“It’s nothing. I’ll go in and wash it right now.” Daisy didn’t want to look.
She’d seen it oozing blood and it was enough to make spots dance in front of
her eyes.

           
“Butch, will you get the first aid kit from the trunk?” His voice was calm and
even.

           
“We have Band-Aids inside.” She’d never been good about accepting help and all
she wanted right now was to hide away.

           
“Band aids won’t help much. You’ve got some serious swelling. Let’s get out of
this rain.” He stood up and took her elbow, guiding her toward the steps.

           
Daisy wanted to protest, but knew she would look even sillier. She tried not to
limp, but her leg ached with every step.

           
“Lean on me,” he said, putting one arm around her waist.

           
Nita, Ana and Butch followed behind. Daisy wished for all the world they didn’t
have witnesses. It was bad enough being the walking wounded when she wanted to
be strong and capable.

           
“I’ll head back to the station,” Butch said as they reached the front doors. He
handed the keys to Lane and the first aid box to Nita. “I need to stop at
Nancy’s for a doughnut. All that lifting gave me an appetite.”

           
Lane snorted but he was smiling. Daisy shot him a glance and looked away. He
looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept well or was struggling under a secret
burden.  Daisy wondered about Tara and if she was back in town this week,
then hated herself for wondering.

           
 “You two go on ahead into Marie’s office. We’ll watch the desk.” Nita
turned and Daisy could have sworn she saw her give Ana a look. It was a ‘give
them some space’ look. Well, space wasn’t going to help the situation, but she
didn’t want a big crowd for the doctoring, either.    She sat in a
chair just inside the door and Lane gently rolled up the leg of her pants. She
was glad she’d just shaved her legs that morning. It was like the old advice
about wearing clean underwear in case of an accident. Always keep your legs
shaved in case the handsome cop needs to run his fingers over your calf. She
snorted at her own advice.

           
Lane glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Something funny?”

           
“It’s just like every terrible romance book I ever read as a teenager.”

           
“How so?” He’d dropped his gaze, gently cleaning the area with antiseptic
swabs.

           
“You know, heroine gets injured and hero gallantly treats her wounds while
winning her heart.” She waved a hand. “Old story. Done a million times.”

           
He said nothing for a few moments. “Doesn’t sound so terrible to me.”

           
She looked down and then jerked her gaze away. Her shin sported an enormous
purple lump. The cut wasn’t very large, but the front of her leg was
grotesquely swollen. She quickly looked away as she said, “It’s just so
unlikely. And it always ends with a happy ending. Always.”

           
His mouth went tight and he reached for a sterile non-stick pad. “I’m a fan of
happy endings. Nothing wrong with a happy ending.”

           
“It just doesn’t happen; it’s not realistic.” She didn’t know why she was
arguing the point, but her voice went up a notch.

           
Shrugging, he said, “My parents married right out of high school They’re pretty
happy.”

           
“Huh. So did mine.” The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be finished. They
both knew how her parents’ marriage had turned out.

           
He wrapped gauze around her leg to hold the dressing in place and said nothing.

           
Daisy chewed her lip. “Okay, fine. You’re right. I’m probably just projecting
my own experiences on the world.”

           
Looking up, he smiled for the first time, eyes crinkling at the corners. His
hand was warm where he held the gauze in place. “That’s more like it. Every
person carries their own story. You can’t just write off happy endings.”

           
She didn’t say anything, her mouth had gone dry. He seemed to be talking directly
to her, to
them
. As if there was even a chance at some kind of future
for the two of them. Her heart started to beat double time and she swallowed
hard. “But it’s so rare.”

           
“Really?” He tore two pieces of medical tape from a roll. “That’s the thing
about happy endings. You just never know until you reach the very end.”

           
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not very encouraging. So you live your life hoping
for the best?”

           
He carefully smoothed the gauze before securing it with the tape. He sat back
on his heels and cocked his head. “It’s funny.”

           
“What is?”

           
“You came to Liberty and immediately decided you could save the library. You
hoped
you could.”

           
“Okay.” She was trying to follow him. “But that’s different.”

           
“Is it? The library is practically a lost cause and you gave up your whole
summer and paid rent on two places at once. That’s a lot of effort.”

           
Daisy stared down at her leg and shook her head. “But saving the library is
worth it.”

           
He briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were shadowed with pain.
“Right. You worked and hoped and fought because the library is worth it. Happy
endings for people don’t happen by accident either. But both people have to
believe it’s worth all the work.”

           
She opened her mouth so speak, but nothing occurred to her. There was no witty
response to that. Relationships failed and it wasn’t always a mystery. There wasn’t
a magic potion someone could take. It took work.

           
Daisy glanced at him and their gaze locked. She wasn’t sure, she couldn’t tell,
but  maybe, just maybe, Lane was asking her what she thought. Were they
worth the work? Could she live her life hoping for a happy ending? Her throat
squeezed closed in fear. She wasn’t ready; she didn’t have the courage for that
kind of love.

           
“You’d better get back,” she said. “Butch might eat all the doughnuts.”

           
Her words hung in the air between them, the thump of her pulse the only sound
in her ears.

           
“Saturday morning, bright and early.” He flashed a small smile and gathered up
the kit. “Pray for sun.”

           
She nodded. When he left the office, she sat, unmoving in Marie’s old chair.
The rain pattered against the window and she squeezed her eyes shut against the
sight.
A lost cause.
  Saving the library had never been anything
other than a dream.

           
Marie had given her the strength to fight for the library, because Daisy loved
her so much, even her memory was enough. She didn’t think she had the strength
to fight for anything or anyone else, not that way.