Like a Charm (4 page)

Over the last few years, time had slipped away and my life had become about whatever the next project might be. Looking back I realized how much work had taken over my world.

“You both are as beautiful as always.” I patted Ms. Johnnie's arm. Today she wore jeans with a bright red sweatshirt bearing a terrified looking turkey that read, “Thanksgiving, already?”

She seated us in a booth at the back of the café. “Special's chicken fried steak today.” Her words made my mouth water. I'd been set on eating a hamburger, but I couldn't resist.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Me too.” Sam added.

She brought us out some iced tea and hot biscuits with butter. We were enjoying the carb-loaded delights when someone walked up to our booth, a handsome man with sandy blond hair. He wore low-riding jeans and a denim shirt, but it was his eyes that transfixed me. Deep lapis blue, almost black. Then he smiled and I suddenly found myself very interested in everything he had to say.

“Hey, Doc.” He reached to shake hands with Sam.

“Caleb, good to see you. When did you get back in town?”

“A couple of days ago. I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch. I just wanted to say hi and thanks for that sinus medicine. Best stuff I've ever taken. I couldn't have made the trip without it.” There was something about his scent, pine mixed with man. I had an urge to reach out and touch him. Which is weird, because it had been a while since I'd even been on a date. I hadn't met a man who had seemed worth the time.

“I've been rude. Caleb, this is my friend Kira.” Sam waved a hand toward me.

Caleb tipped his head. “Nice to meet you.” He looked like he was going to say something else but stopped himself.

“Hi,” I whispered, not really trusting my voice.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” Sam offered.

“Tempting,” he smiled down at me, “but I need to get back. Deliveries are coming in—new tile for the bathrooms and the wood floors for the rest of the house.”

“Oh, are you remodeling your home?” My voice sounded a little throaty and I heard Sam snicker. I shot him a death stare.

“Not my place, just helping out a friend.” Caleb turned to Sam. “I'll see you later, Doc. Nice to meet you.” He waved good-bye to me.

“Now that was interesting.” Sam laughed.

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, Ms. Johnnie showed up with our food.

We'd been eating for a few minutes when Sam said, “I bet you haven't been on a date in months. I could set you up. He's a really interesting guy.” He waggled his eyebrows.

I threw a green bean at him.

“Don't play with your food,” he teased.

“Stop being annoying. And how would you know if I've been on a date? I haven't seen you in a long time.”

His eyes zeroed in on me. “You're the same driven woman I knew in college, and you didn't date much then either. I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt for you to mingle with the human race now and then. I bet I can guess exactly what you've been doing every single day since I last saw you: work, work, work.” The last words were said with a smirk.

Picking up another green bean, I made a threatening gesture. “I'm mingling with you. And you're the one who told me I needed to go home to bed. Besides, as soon as I'm better, I'm out of here and going back to the real world.” I raised an eyebrow. “A place where my doctor doesn't try to fix me up with strangers off of the street.”

“Ohhh. I think she liked him,” he said in an annoying singsongy voice.

“You really need to stop. You never could sing.”

He threw a hand against his chest. “I'm crushed. I can't believe you said that. Just because some guy's hot for you doesn't mean you have to take it out on me.”

The lemon meringue showed up and it quite possibly saved Sam from living the rest of his life with a green bean sticking out of his forehead.

The truth hurt. I hadn't dated much, or had any fun for that matter. In fact, I didn't want to think about life back in Atlanta at all right now. It had been too long since I'd had a vacation. Though I did worry that maybe I should have Justin FedEx some of the contracts I'd been working on to the ashram. We'd been in the middle of two big deals, both of which depended on mergers coming off as planned. It was my job to make sure everything ran smoothly.

“It's going well,” a voice said in my ear. I turned to see who it was. No one sat behind us. The lunch crowd had thinned out and the café only had a few customers. The only diners were up near the front of the café.

“Did you hear that?” I looked at Sam.

“What?” He dug into his pie with manly gusto.

“I thought I heard—nothing.”
Great. I'm hearing voices. This mono thing is worse than I thought.

He eyed me warily. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

“I'm fine.”

Sam shrugged.

Maybe I really was losing my mind.

F
or three days I did nothing but sleep, eat, and read, with the occasional walk to the vineyards. After so many years of ninety-hour weeks, I'd practically forgotten what it was like to relax. Okay, I did make a few calls to the office, but much to my chagrin Justin seemed to have everything under control.

It bothered me a little that the world of corporate law seemed to keep on turning even though I wasn't there. Irked me, really, but I had to concentrate on getting better so I could get back to it.

My body responded by healing faster than anyone expected.

Sam came out to check on me at my parents' place and deemed me fit for short excursions into town. “Nothing too taxing,” he warned. Then he wrote me a prescription for chicken fried steak. This is why that man is my friend.

He also mentioned that a certain someone was curious about me. “I had a strange call the other day.” Since he'd just stuck a thermometer in my mouth, I could only give him a perplexed eyebrow. “Seems Caleb needed refills on his sinus medication. At least that was his excuse for calling. Of course what he really wanted to know is if you and I are dating.”

I snorted. Sam had never been anything more than a big brother to me. I don't know why, but we'd just never had that kind of chemistry.

“Yes, that's what I told him.” Sam grabbed my wrist and took my pulse. “Looks like you may have an admirer.”

My stomach did that flip-floppy thing that happens when a boy you think is cute likes you too. It's so high school but it's true. Though I didn't experience much of that in my teens. I certainly noticed boys, but I was the “smart girl” with frizzy hair who wore hippie clothes, and they paid me no attention.

I couldn't tell Sam that. He turned away to write something in the medical file he'd brought with him.

“He can be interested all he wants. A couple more days and I'm out of here.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I was just the tiniest bit excited. It'd been a really long time since a hot guy had shown any interest in me other than for my brains. I know, I shouldn't complain, but every once in a while it's nice to be thought of as something besides a “damn fine lawyer,” as my boss always called me.

“I don't know about that.” He waved the chart in front of my face. “You won't be ready to go home until well after Thanksgiving.”

I leaned forward in the chair. We were in my room at my parents' place. “Oh, no. That won't do at all. I have two separate contracts that have to be written up by the end of the month.”

“Kira, you aren't going to get well if you start back to work too soon. In fact, there's an eighty percent chance of relapse if you do. You can maybe handle a couple of hours in town, but that's it.”

I waved him away. “But I feel so much better.”

He stared at me for a moment. “It's up to me to write your release papers, and you're not going back to work until I feel like you are ready.”

“Sam, I'm the one who should judge how I feel and—okay, okay.” He was staring me down again. “Fine. I'll do some more resting if that's what you want.”

I looked at the prescription he'd written. “I don't suppose you could add some pumpkin pie to this?” I held the white piece of paper where he'd written, “Chicken fried steak, twice weekly.”

Taking it from me, he wrote, “And as much pie as she can down.”

I stood and hugged him. “So are you heading to your parents' in Chicago for the holidays?”

“Nah. I'm on call here over at the nursing home and at the office.” He loaded his instruments back into his brown leather doctor's bag. I'd never actually seen one before except in movies, and it was kind of cool.

“Why don't you come out here to celebrate? Mom and Dad would love it, and I want the company. Maybe you could stop by Lulu's and pick up one of their meals to go with turkey and all of the side dishes and pumpkin pie. In fact, I'll go order it tomorrow if you'll pick it up. Then my mom can't say anything.”

He shook his head. “Why don't you just tell her the sight of Tofurky makes you ill?”

I made a funny face. “I don't want to upset her. Please, will you pick it up?”

Sam laughed. “Sure. I'm not that fond of Tofurky either. Um, I could ask Caleb to come along. I understand he's going to be alone for the holidays too.”

My stomach did that weird thing again. “Uh. Sure. The more the merrier.”

I wished I wasn't quite so excited about seeing Caleb again.

 

M
rs. Canard was right about me coming back to see her before the week was out. With my reduced work schedule, all I'd done was read the last few days. I'd already gone through the pile of books she'd given me.

After stopping at Lulu's to order a complete Thanksgiving dinner with all of the trimmings, and a short stay for Ms. Helen's chili and cornbread lunch, I headed to the library.

The temperature outside hung around forty, but inside the library it felt closer to thirty degrees. At almost four o'clock on a Wednesday the place was deserted. The whole town shuts down around six, so it wasn't that unusual. Only the local restaurants and Piggly Wiggly stayed open until nine.

As I made my way through the vestibule, I saw shadows that looked like people. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I opened them again. The shadows were gone.

Maybe I need new glasses.
I wore reading glasses sometimes, but that was only after a long day of viewing the tiny type on contracts.

I heard someone shelving books a few rows back and found Mrs. Canard on a short stepladder in the biography and nonfiction section. Today she wore a soft baby blue sweater over navy pants.

“Mrs. Canard?” I whispered.

Startled, she almost toppled off the ladder. Grabbing the wooden shelf, she righted herself. “Dear me. I didn't hear you come in, Kira.” She peered at me over her spectacles. “You have some pink in your cheeks and look much better than the other day.”

I reached up to help her down the ladder. “I am better. Why don't you let me shelve those for you?” Before she could protest, as I knew she would, I added, “I could really use a cup of tea. It's kind of chilly in here.”

She smiled at me, knowing full well what I was up to. “Yes, I have some new cinnamon spice tea, which is delightful.” Her hand in mine, I helped guide her down. “I'll put the kettle on, and then we can have a nice long chat.”

I shelved the remaining biographies, except for one on P. L. Travers that I wanted to check out for myself. I'd always loved Mary Poppins and was curious about the woman behind the wonderful books. I'd heard she was very eccentric, and those kinds of people always fascinate me.

By the time I finished I noticed Mrs. Canard had set the small break room table with a colorful china teapot and cups. Next to it was a plate of chocolate chip cookies, my favorite. I smiled and made my way through the doorway, but the librarian wasn't in there. “Mrs. Canard?”

“She ran upstairs for something, but she'll be right back,” a man said from behind me. Swirling in a flurry, I searched for the owner of the voice. I made my way down the rows in the back of the library, but didn't see anyone. I walked quickly to the front. Empty. I stood by the front desk with my hands on my hips. A chill ran down my spine.

Had I really heard something? Or was my subconscious talking to me?
Yes, your subconscious is a deep male voice. That makes a lot of sense.

Since the accident, I'd been hearing things and seeing shadows. Maybe it was the medication.
Or you're going crazy.
There was always that.

“Kira?” I heard Mrs. Canard calling for me.

“Be right there,” I said with fake cheerfulness.

I made my way back to the tiny break room, where the librarian poured tea. “Did you hear someone when you came down?” I sat at the small table, across from her. An Irish lace tablecloth with delicate pink and white roses adorned it.

The room was a small box with a sink, cabinets, and counters along all the walls.

She smiled. “No, dear. Would you like some sugar? If I remember right, always two lumps.”

It'd been years since I'd used real sugar in my tea. I usually used one of the chemical substitutes to save the calories. “Yes, thank you.”

“So what does the handsome Dr. Sam say about your health? I understand he visited you yesterday.” The implication in her voice was that we might be dating.

I laughed. “He is a very good friend and nothing else, and he says a few more weeks and I'll be good to go.” I gave her a wink. “I need to get back to Atlanta, so I'm not sure I'll be able to take his advice. How did you know he'd been to see me?”

She put a cookie on a plate and handed it to me. “It's a small town, Kira, I
know
everything. So you are determined to go back to being a lawyer?”

What an odd question. I frowned. “Of course. I mean, what else would I do? I would have gone right back to work after—um, after I got sick, but the doctors wouldn't let me,” I covered. I'd almost said, “after the accident,” which is stupid because it wasn't an accident at all. It was a tragedy. “I can't really imagine doing anything else.”

“Oh, that's too bad, dear. I guess I had hopes that someday you would come and take over the library for me.” She patted my hand. “A silly old woman's wishful thinking.”

I squeezed her fingers. “If I weren't a lawyer, I probably would be a librarian. You know how much I love doing research—almost as much as I adore books. I'm so glad you set me straight the other day and made me read something that didn't have to do with work. I'd forgotten the sheer joy that comes from books.

“And there is absolutely nothing old or silly about you.” Though I had noticed that she seemed a bit more fragile this trip. I mean, she looked great for an eighty-year-old woman, but her skin appeared thinner and she stooped a little more than I'd remembered. Yet she still hopped around the library like a rabbit on speed. “How have you been feeling?”

She frowned for just a moment and her eyes looked misty.

I thought she might cry for a minute, and I worried maybe she was seriously ill. “Mrs. Canard?”

She sighed. “Oh, fiddle-faddle. I didn't ask you to tea to talk about my health. That's what old people do. I want to hear about your life in Atlanta.”

I started to say something, but stopped when I saw the look in her eyes. She was begging me to leave the subject alone. Next to my parents, I loved this woman more than anyone I'd ever known. She truly was my savior as a child. She had introduced me to the magical world of books, where I could lose myself in a new place every day. I had to find out what was wrong with her, but now was not the time.

“I love Atlanta and my job keeps me very busy.” I told her about my friend Justin and my condo in one of the city's high-rises. But there wasn't much more to tell. My entire life had become about work. I had acquaintances at the office, but Justin was my only real friend there.

“I wanted to thank you for the books you recommended,” I said as we finished our tea. I took the cups and saucers to the sink.

“I'll take care of those later. Don't worry about them.” She tried to brush me out the door.

“No, you made my favorite cookies. The least I can do is clean up. Maybe you can find some books to get me through the holiday at my parents'. I'm going to need massive distractions to stay sane. My dad has been pestering me to take yoga classes and it seems like every five minutes Mom shoves another cup of some kind of herbal tea down me.”

She laughed. “It's time you accepted those people for who they are, Kira.” She touched my shoulder. “They love you very much and they are good souls who mean well.”

I nodded. “I know. I'm trying to do that this trip and I am beginning to see them through different eyes. I never realized how talented they were. Mom's business is booming and Dad has become quite the artist.”

She sighed. “I think it sometimes takes us many years to truly appreciate our parents.” Then she was off, flitting around the library, gathering another pile of books for me.

I left the clean dishes and teapot on the drain board and wiped my hands on a tea towel. Even the break room with its gray walls and small wooden cabinets seemed special. I loved this library and I'd never felt more comfortable anywhere else. Not even in my apartment in Atlanta, which I'd decorated to suit me exactly.

I sighed.
When did I become so melancholy?

At the checkout desk she had two piles of books ready for me. “I've put the new Jasper Fforde and Jim Butcher in for you. As well as that P. L. Travers biography.” She pushed the stack of more than twenty books toward me. “There are also some of the classics you used to love.” Charlotte Brontë's
Jane Eyre
and Jane Austen's
Emma
topped the pile. Back in the day Brontë had been very critical of Austen's work, but I loved them both.