Louisiana Saves the Library (18 page)

C
HAPTER
26

T
he
Alligator Bayou Gazette
operated out of a corrugated-steel building set far back from the road. Louise knocked while Sylvia tried to peek in the window.

“Hey, what're y'all doing here?” Breaux answered the door with a biscuit sandwich in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

“We thought you might could help us out,” Louise said. After the words left her mouth, she realized she'd used the weird Alligator Bayou expression without even thinking about it. She was going native.

Breaux didn't appear to notice. “I was just talking with the mayor. Police chief is being asked to leave and I was trying to find out why. Turns out some of his subordinates claim he creates a hostile environment. Even his own daughter-in-law says he's a mean old coot. Can't get the mayor to tell me anything about it, though. Come on in. It's not much, but it's home. Rest of the building is the distribution warehouse. I get this little corner.”

The office was barely big enough for two desks. One had a computer on it, and the other was piled up with papers and notebooks. Industrial beige walls were decorated with comic strips cut from the newspaper and framed photos of scenes from the early days of Alligator Bayou, including one of a man with a handlebar mustache standing in front of a two-story-high log pile.

Sylvia and Louise sat in the spare office chairs. Breaux balanced his sandwich on top of a stack of newspapers and took a seat in front of his computer.

“We need to know how to get a library tax on the ballot,” Louise said.

“Well, according to the parish charter, if you get a thousand signatures, you can put anything on the ballot,” Breaux said.

“Really? Well, that's a useful piece of information that you could have told us at the meeting,” Sylvia said, uncrossing her legs and planting her black boots on the floor.

“Y'all left so fast, I didn't get a chance to tell you. Plus, I thought maybe your lawyer turned strawberry farmer friend might know.”

Louise wasn't too surprised that Breaux knew about her and Sal. “I don't think he's studied the parish charter.”

Breaux retrieved his sandwich and took a bite. “I guess not. Anyway, you can't do it yourselves, of course. Being public employees and all. I can write you an editorial. Then you might have the votes of my three readers.”

“Thanks,” Louise said.

Breaux washed down another mouthful of sandwich with coffee from a
Gazette
mug. “Y'all remember all those people the Gund had talking at the police jury meeting when they nixed the bond?”

“The concerned citizens against the library, yeah.”

“They'll probably cook up something else too. Last time the tax was on the ballot, they made up some barely literate flyers and passed them out in the trailer parks. 'Course, nobody did anything for the library that time since it was just Mutt and Jeff—your director and his lackey—in there and they didn't seem to give a rat's behind what happened. You gotta use their methods. Get the word out.”

“Ms. Trudy can do it. She can form a Friends of the Library group or something,” Sylvia said. “That way she can raise money as a nonprofit organization.”

Breaux nodded. “Don't underestimate that old bird. She'll take on the Gund and her clan without blinking an eye.”

C
HAPTER
27

T
he morning Brendan was scheduled to arrive, Louise wanted to just stay in bed. The day he had packed up his clothes and left, he'd accused her of letting herself go after the children were born. “You could join the gym at least,” he'd said. Louise hadn't bothered to remind him that he refused to help with the kids enough so that she could get adequate sleep let alone work out. She also didn't point out that he never set foot inside a gym. Being thin didn't make him fit. As he walked out the door with his suitcase, she allowed herself to notice his scrawny arms and skinny neck. She'd stupidly hoped it might be the last time she saw him, even though she knew that the children made that impossible. And soon he would be back in her life for good.

While she was fixing Zoe's hair, Max ran in wearing nothing but a stocking cap. “Can I watch TV?”

“Not until you get dressed. Underwear, pants, shirt, socks, and shoes. No hat.”

After he ran off to his room, Louise managed to laugh and calm down enough to make halfway decent pigtails. Zoe had an amazing amount of hair, and even though it took five minutes to style every morning, Louise couldn't bring herself to cut off the bouncy curls.

She selected an outfit for Zoe. The pants were too small and the shirt rode up over her belly. “You're going to be tall like your daddy,” she said.

“Daddy,” Zoe repeated.

Hearing her say the word almost made Louise cry, but she tried to smile back at Zoe as she got out a dress for her instead. “Let's wear this one.”

“Dess.” Zoe grabbed the matching leggings and tried to put them on herself. She ended up with both legs in the same hole.

Max came in with his clothes on backward. “Can I watch TV?”

“Not yet. You have to put your shirt and pants on the right way. The picture goes in front, remember?” Louise said.

Max looked down at his chest and pulled off the shirt. Now, it was inside out. Louise reversed the tee and handed it back to him. She decided not to bother making him fix the pants. They were sweats anyway, so no one would notice.

While Max and Zoe watched TV, Louise straightened the living room. The children had decorated the kitchen cabinets with markers and stickers, the table and floor were sticky, and the stove was crusted with runover from the previous day's spaghetti sauce. There was no way she could get it all done before going to work. Dishes were the first priority. She got a load going and swiped at the stove with a sponge.

Once at work, Louise couldn't concentrate on her cataloging. Brendan's wedding had been in the back of her mind, but she'd had trouble believing that it was really going to happen. Now that he was on his way, it finally seemed real. All the work she'd done to put distance—emotional and physical—between them had been for nothing. Seeing him again might reduce her to her former state of spineless doormat. She couldn't let that happen. She had to stand behind her decisions about her job and the children no matter how much he criticized her.

She had cataloged half the books on the cart and gathered her things to leave for her lunch-break workout when he called.

“Hey, we're here.”

“I'm at work and the kids are in school.” She tried to drink some coffee, but the mug shook in her unsteady hand. She set it down carefully.

“I'll pick them up,” Brendan said.

“You're not on the list of people they're allowed to leave with.”

“I'm their father.”

“It doesn't matter. You still have to be on the list and I forgot to add you, I'm sorry. Look, just wait until I get off work at five thirty.”

“What am I supposed to do until then? We were going to take them swimming in the hotel pool.”

Louise wanted to reach through the phone, grab her ex, and shake some sense into him. Not that it would do any good. “Zoe is two and Max is three and a half. They can't swim. I told you that.”

“It's not my fault that you haven't taught them.”

In her fantasy, Louise switched from shaking him to choking him. “Max had lessons this past summer. But that doesn't mean he can really swim. Those hotel pools are deep.”

“So what? We'll be watching them.”

“They are my kids. And I don't like it.”

“They're mine too.”

“You could have fooled me. You've never shown any interest in them.”

“Why do you think I'm moving? Because I like heat and mudbugs?” Brendan emphasized the word “mudbugs.”

“I'm sure Louisiana A&M gave you more money,” Louise said.

“Maybe, but I never would have bothered to move if you hadn't dragged my kids down here.”

“This was the only place I could get a library science professor job. You know that.”

Louise was shaking so hard that she was afraid she was having a full-blown anxiety attack. She closed her eyes and began to count:
One, two, three, four, five . . .

Brendan sniffed loudly into the phone. “Look, I don't want to argue. I just want to see the kids.”

Louise opened her eyes and stared at Zoe's drawing of different sizes of circles pinned to her cubicle wall. “How about tomorrow? You and Julia have a relaxing day at the hotel and pick them up in the morning.”

“Louise, we're only going to be in town for a few days.”

“Yes, but—”

“Six o'clock? That'll give you time to get them ready. We'll take them out to dinner and bring them back in time for bed.”

Louise glanced up and saw Mr. Foley leaving his office. If he heard her talking on the phone, he would go into lunatic mode. She didn't feel like dealing with another jerk. “Okay. Fine.” She hung up the phone, tossed it into her bag, and left.

Despite her still-precarious financial situation, Louise had kept the gym membership. Not because of Brendan but for herself. After some calculation, she'd decided she could afford it if she cut out fast food and drive-through coffee. By the time the weight-lifting class ended, she was sweaty and starving but relatively calm. She ate a cheese sandwich and drank iced tea on the way back to the library.

“Where have you been, girl?” Sylvia asked when she walked in the back door.

“The gym. Lunch break.” Louise slipped into her cubicle. “I thought you were doing book talks.”

“The kids are all at lunch right now, but I'm going back in a few minutes. I've been trying to call you. Your ex is here.”

“Brendan? In the library?”

Sylvia nodded. “With his cute little fiancée. I shouldn't say little. She's skinny, but almost as tall as I am. Gorgeous too.”

“I know, I know. Rub it in a little more, would you, please? What the heck are they doing here?”

“He said he wanted to see where you worked. The girlfriend didn't look so thrilled. What does she do?”

Louise felt nauseated. She drank some tea. “She's a graduate student in English.”

“Robbing the cradle, is he?”

“I think she's twenty-five.”

“Barf.” Sylvia tossed her hair. “Do you want me to tell them to leave? That you had to go home or something?”

“No. I'll go out there in a few minutes.”

Sylvia picked up her bag and a pile of paperbacks with sad-eyed teenagers on the covers. “I have to go. Good luck, girl.”

Louise finished the tea, trying to calm herself down. Knowing that Julia was coming, she'd worn her highest heels. Even with the lift, the graduate student would have a couple of inches on her. Not to mention a mane of wavy blond hair and perfect skin and teeth. The first time Louise had seen Julia looking at Brendan during that fateful English department party, she'd known she was in trouble. At the time, she hadn't even known that Julia was also brilliant and shared Brendan's love for nineteenth-century British literature.

Louise stood up and looked into Mr. Foley's office. It was dark. He'd left early. The director didn't clock forty hours a week anymore. Not that he actually had to use the time clock like the rest of them. She continued past his office and got a glimpse of her ex through the doorway. She took a deep breath and walked through the door to circulation.

 

Brendan leaned against the front desk. He couldn't believe that Louise had sunk so low. Alligator Bayou wasn't much more than a wide place in the road, and the library was a dreary box. He felt like he should be wearing a cowboy hat and boots in this hick town. He'd dragged Julia out here against her will. She didn't understand why he wanted to see where his ex-wife worked. Well, he was curious, that was all. Louise hadn't even told him about her new job. He'd had to call A&M and chat up the English department secretary to get the news.

Julia was showing her disdain for the whole trip by engrossing herself in her smartphone. Big surprise. Brendan turned around just as Louise walked out from the employee area. She looked the same as the last time he'd seen her. Louise never dyed her hair or kept up with current fashion trends. He recognized the geometric-patterned red-and-white skirt she wore. He'd helped her pick it out on a long-ago shopping trip. Julia never kept a piece of clothing for more than two seasons. Brendan never bothered to ask what she did with them. Anyway, Julia always looked fantastic and she paid for her clothes with her own money so it was none of his business.

“You finally came back! I thought you worked here,” he said to his ex-wife.

“Lunch break.” Louise met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “Hi, Julia.”

“Hi.” Julia didn't glance up from her phone.

“So, what's there to do in Alligator Bayou?” Brendan asked.

“Not much.” Louise's face was still closed. She hated him; he could see that. He couldn't blame her too much, but it had been almost a year since their divorce. Couldn't she at least treat him like a human being? Be civil in front of Julia? Not that his fiancée cared. She probably wasn't even listening to the conversation, if you could call it that.

He lowered his voice. “Seriously, this is the best job you could get?”

Louise visibly clenched her teeth. “I have to go back to work now.”

A brown-haired, mousy librarian lady pushed an empty book cart across the floor and brought it behind the circulation desk. “Can I help y'all?”

“No, thanks,” Brendan said. “We were just going. Actually, do you know a good place for lunch?”

The woman's eyes darted between Brendan, Julia, and Louise. She was clearly trying to assess the situation and failing. Louise shrugged and walked back to the employee area.

“There's Anthony's just around the corner and Main Street Café down the road a ways. That's pretty much it unless you want gas station fried chicken,” the woman said.

“Thanks,” Brendan said. He'd already decided to head back to Saint Jude.

 

After Brendan and Julia left, Louise found it impossible to get anything accomplished. She cataloged for two hours, but only managed to work through half the books left on the truck. She couldn't stop thinking about Julia, in all her breathtaking perfection. In contrast to Louise, the underemployed rural librarian, Julia was a promising young scholar. Once she finished her PhD, she'd have job offers around the country. Of course, if she wanted to stay with Brendan, she'd be stuck in Louisiana like Louise. Though the state had started to not seem so bad, at least until Brendan arrived.

“I should have just taken the day off,” Louise said, opening a new best seller to the title page.

Sylvia's head appeared above the cubicle wall. “You should have come to my book talks. Those teenagers are a hoot. They're so excited about the mystery game I'm planning at the library. They were asking me all these questions about costumes and how it works. I think it was a great idea, if I do say so myself.”

Louise tossed the novel aside. She doubted high school students would cheer her up. Right at that moment, only three people came to mind with that power and two were in day care.

“I know something that might make you feel better,” Sylvia said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Sal just walked in.”

“How do you know? Do you have special powers I don't know about?”

“Extrasensory hunk detection.” Sylvia's head disappeared, and her bracelets clacked against the keyboard. “No, I hear Lily out there mooning over him.”

“She's a little old.”

“Give the girl a break. She can flirt if she wants to.”

Just knowing Sal was in the library lifted Louise out of her funk. She put down the novel, pushed the book cart out of the way, and left her cubicle.

When she came through the doorway to the circulation area, the crow's feet around Sal's eyes crinkled. “Do you have some book recommendations for me?” he asked.

“Um, I'll have to think about it.”

“Lily here only reads teen romances,” Sal said. “She's no help at all.”

Lily looked at him like he was lunch, chocolate, and Bradley Cooper all rolled into one. “Sal's such a card.”

“I'll watch the desk if you want to take your lunch break,” Louise said.

Lily hesitated but gave in. “I'll be in the kitchen if y'all need me. See you later, Sal.”

Sal saluted and leaned against the counter again. “Full disclosure. I don't really need any more books yet.”

Louise looked down at her hands. Short, stubby fingers, no manicure, not even any fingernail polish. She could never compete with Julia. If Brendan's fiancée were here, would Sal be talking to her instead? “So, why are you here?”