Louisiana Saves the Library (4 page)

Hope sat down in front of the microfilm reader. She straddled the chair backward, like a man. “All's I know is, I used to work in the old library, before they built this one in 1987. It was in the courthouse building. You seen it?”

“I don't think so.”

“Dumpy brick thing from the fifties. Anyway, they used to walk the prisoners right through the library to get them to court. Handcuffed and everything. Kinda disturbed the atmosphere.”

“Was that the first library?”

“Officially. Seems like Glenda's mom used to talk about one before that. I think it was run out of the schoolhouse on Route One. That count?”

“Maybe.”

“Glenda comes in sometimes for the children's programs. I can ask her. She runs the Oak Lake branch. You could ride over there, but it'd take you thirty minutes. Oh, wait. Glenda's still in the hospital over to Saint Jude, I think. Pelvic floor collapsed. Poor woman, just sitting there on the toilet, doing her business, when she felt something hanging down. Was her guts coming right out. Can you imagine?”

Louise shivered and resisted the urge to clutch her own stomach. “What about her mother?”

“Can't hardly talk to her now. She has the Alzheimer's. Glenda's got her in that home over to Saint Jude. Nothing much out here like that, except that dump on Route One. I wouldn't put my husband's cat there and it'd bite you as soon as look at you.”

Louise held up the photo. “Who are these kids?”

“Dunno. That one looks like a Krasky, I'd say.” She pointed a blunt finger at the girl on the end. “There are a million of them around here. They all have that hooked nose. Hungarian. No Cajuns in this area. 'Round here, you got more Germans, Hungarians. And blacks, of course. They used to call them Jerry Brindels. The blacks that mixed with the white Hungarians and Germans. Not sure why.”

“Anything else I should look at here?”

Hope shook her head, her hair-sprayed blond bob barely moving. “Don't think so. State Library has a lot of historical stuff.”

“Yeah, I've been through most of it. They don't have much about Alligator Bayou or any other towns besides Saint Jude and New Orleans, though.”

“You could try the local history center. I gotta warn you, though, they don't have much there except moldy old baby bonnets and wedding dresses.”

Louise hadn't even filled one page in her notebook. She'd found out basically nothing that she didn't already know. Alligator Bayou might be a very short chapter in her history of Louisiana libraries. She'd dragged the kids all the way out here for nothing. It was the perfect end to a perfectly lousy day. “Mind if I copy some of this stuff?”

Hope pushed the chair aside and stood. “Bring it out and we'll set you up.”

Louise took a folder, stuffed in a few flyers and newsletters, and followed Hope into the patron area. Before they stepped around the cubicles, Louise heard the combination of noises that meant big trouble: a crash and then crying.

“Darn it, Lily was supposed to be watching those kids,” Hope said.

An angry-sounding man called out from the back area. “What's going on out there?”

“Now, y'all done woke up the dragon.” Hope pumped her arms as she speed-walked across the library.

Louise started running when she saw Zoe trapped under a wire rack of romance novels. Hope was faster. She dropped to one knee, freed Zoe from the mess, and hugged her. “It's okay, honey.”

Even though she wanted to comfort Zoe herself, Louise looked for Max first. He was playing with cotton balls in the children's area. The floor looked like snowstorm aftermath.

“Who's letting those kids destroy my library?” A red-faced bald man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a tangerine-orange polo shirt walked up behind the counter.

“I done told Mr. Foley to get rid of this rack. Some kid pushes it over once a week. That's him there, the library director. He's three kinds of useless,” Hope said quietly. She hooked a thumb in the direction of the man, who was watching them with his arms folded across his chest. “She's okay. Just scared.”

Zoe got up from Hope's lap and ran toward Louise. She clutched her mother as though they'd been separated for days instead of a few minutes. Zoe could be frustrating, but she was endlessly affectionate. Louise kissed her soft, wet cheek and stroked her hair. “It's okay, honey. It was scary, I know, but you're not hurt, are you?”

The girl shook her head and hugged Louise harder.

“If those children can't behave, they'll have to leave,” the director said.

Hope stood up and fixed him with a hard gaze. “Mr. Foley, we got this covered.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I ain't fooling at all. They're just children.”

Mr. Foley grunted and went back into the work area. A door slammed. Lily strolled out from behind a stack of books.

“Ms. Lily, I thought you were watching these here children!” Hope put her hands on her meaty hips. “Now we done got Mr. Foley all worked up again.”

“I was just shelving a couple of books. I thought they'd be okay.”

“Why didn't you come out when that rack fell on the girl?”

Lily dropped her eyes, hunched her thin shoulders, and returned to her place behind the desk. “I heard you, so I figured I couldn't do anything that you weren't already doing.”

“You wanted to leave me to handle the boss man,” Hope said.

“Come on, Hope. You know how he gets on to me.”

“ 'Cause you got no guts. You let him walk all over you.” Hope took Zoe's hand and led her to the children's area. “At least show Ms. Louisiana here how to use the copier.”

Louise stared at Hope's back. How did she know her full name? The librarian looked at her as if she could somehow see all of Louise's secrets. She opened her mouth to explain—about the name, Brendan, the kids, everything. But instead she just brought the folder to the photocopier.

“Now, Max, you need to clean up this here mess,” Hope said, selecting a book from the pile.

“Yes, ma'am.” Max dropped to the floor and began gathering up cotton balls, moving with an unprecedented level of focus and determination.

Louise hurried through her photocopying, half listening to Hope entertaining the children with a story about a cat playing in the rain. She wished that she could leave them for a while—just long enough for a nap or a cup of coffee in a cafe somewhere. A little sanity break before the long drive home and the always vexing question of what to make for dinner. She stuffed the copies into her oversize handbag.

“I'll refile the originals,” Lily said.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Thanks.” Reluctantly, Louise turned toward the children's area. Hope was using an astonishing variety of cartoon voices as she read. Louise waited until she was done before telling the children that it was time to leave.

“I don't want to,” Max said.

“I don't want to either,” Louise whispered, too softly for anyone to hear.

C
HAPTER
3

S
al Fortuno brought his books up to the counter and placed his library card on top. The woman and her kids were leaving. She wasn't wearing makeup, which somehow made her chocolate eyes even more striking. He had the crazy urge to run after her, but what would he say? “Hey, let's go get a shake at the Icy Cone”? That would be creepy.

Lily smiled as she scanned his card. She'd seen him looking at the woman. “Her name is Louise,” she said. “She's a professor at A&M. I didn't see a ring. She does have two rather spirited children, though.”

“I saw that.” Sal had wanted to help when the rack fell on the girl. But he'd been way in the back by the history books, and by the time he'd gotten out of the stacks, his cousin Hope had already freed her. Afterward, he returned to the high shelves. He'd told himself that he wanted to find the Stephen Ambrose book he'd been searching for, but he was really just nervous.

Lily finished scanning the books and pushed them toward him. “She wouldn't be hard to find. Check out A&M's Web site. She's in the library science department.”

Hope came up to the counter carrying her bunny puppet and a bag of cotton balls. “Hey, Sal. Didn't know you were here. Were you hiding or something?”

Sal gathered his books. Nothing got past his cousin. When they were growing up, she'd had an annoying habit of somehow knowing which girls he had crushes on and telling anyone and everyone. The result was always a lot of eye rolling and giggling. With his skinny legs and unruly black hair, Sal hadn't been an object of female desire. He'd filled out some in college, though, and no longer resembled a scarecrow. Even Hope had stopped calling him Skinny Sal.

“Why would I hide from you?” he said, winking at her.

“Beats me. I ain't got you figured out yet. Still can't understand why you're back here and not up north lawyering,” Hope said, planting her hands on her hips.

“I didn't like it. I like it here. Or maybe I just missed you.”

Hope stuffed the rabbit in her back pocket. “Wasn't the same around here without you, that's for sure. I, for one, got sick of the lost-puppy look your sister had on all the time.”

Sal had felt guilty abandoning Betta. Their parents had passed away while he was in Chicago, and after that, she'd sounded distant on the phone. Even telling Sal the bits of gossip she picked up from the hair salon didn't animate her anymore.

Leaving Chicago hadn't been difficult. He'd lived in a studio apartment with furniture that he was happy to leave for the landlord. Back home, he'd put a trailer on his parents' land—less than a mile from his sister's place—and taught himself to grow strawberries. The first three years, he'd depended on the money he'd saved from his lawyer job, but by the fourth he managed to turn a small profit. That money meant more to him than the thousands he'd made working at Robb and Anderson.

“Well, now Betta has me to take care of again,” he said.

“Good thing too. I was gonna have to find me another stylist. She was cutting my hair all uneven while you were gone,” Hope said.

Sal laughed. His cousin's hair was always the same: a dishwater-blond bob. She'd also worn the same shade of too-red lipstick for as long as he could remember. One of the things he liked about Alligator Bayou was that things didn't change quickly. In fact, his return was the most exciting thing that had happened in a while, which was why his cousin still felt the need to bring it up four years later.

“Guess you'd better get back to your cows or whatever,” Hope said.

“How many times I gotta tell you I don't have any cows?” Sal shifted the heavy books under his arm.

“Till you get you some. I'm waiting on fresh milk.”

“You're gonna be waiting a long time. I got cabbage and potatoes, though, if you want some.”

“I reckon I could make my Irish stew.”

“Come on by after work.” Sal waved to Lily and left. As he got into his truck, he considered searching for Louise on his now outdated computer. But he couldn't show up at her office on campus with his muddy boots and John Deere cap. He got in the truck and started the engine. Betta had set him up with every single woman in town, and he had suffered through exactly one date with each one. She said he was too picky. All the while she sat home and made him red beans and rice and mended his jeans. Sal didn't know what his sister wanted from life. But he knew what he wanted, even though he wasn't sure he'd ever get it.

C
HAPTER
4

“W
e are screwed.” Sylvia put down her decaf mocha latte on the coffee shop table. In her black dress with matching sash and black platform sandals, she looked more like a model wearing a strap-on belly than a truly pregnant woman. Louise's own pregnancies had been fashion shows of baggy T-shirts and sweats. She'd even borrowed Brendan's dress shirts until she got too big for them. It didn't take long since her ex stayed slim no matter what he ate.

The coffee shop was part of the campus bookstore. Tucked into a corner behind a tall magazine rack, it was constantly crowded with students hunched over laptops. Louise had spent enough time there to know which tables had wonky legs and what barista insisted on seeing her faculty ID before giving her the ten-cent discount on her small coffee.

Today, all of the tables were occupied by students studying for midterm exams. Most wore earbuds and studiously ignored everyone around them. But across the aisle, a pigtailed young woman raised her head from her textbook and stared at Louise and Sylvia in alarm. As usual, Sylvia was too loud and too dramatic. The student appeared to be on the verge of whipping out her cell and dialing 911 in case the crazy woman was going into labor.

Louise put on her most reassuring face, more for the benefit of the girl than Sylvia. “You're freaking out our impressionable young scholars. Dial it down a notch before the barista cuts you off from those decaf chocolate things you drink. It's not that bad.”

“
Hello,
have you seen the ALA newsletter? There are no jobs. None. Even if I could relocate. Which I can't. At least I hope I can't.”

Sylvia hadn't been upset about the possibility of losing her job a week ago. It stood to reason since the stakes were lower for her. Unlike Louise, she could live on her husband's salary, but she loved being a professor. Her security didn't stop her from publishing her articles about special libraries—information centers located in private companies—in the top journals in the field. Sylvia didn't coast, even though she could. So Louise couldn't begrudge Sylvia her good fortune, even though she had fed her own kids beans and rice for the last two days while waiting for Brendan's stupid child support check. Being dependent on him made her furious, but she couldn't dig herself out of the financial hole she was in. It was partly Brendan's fault for talking her into taking out loans for graduate school when she could have just sold her car. He'd always pushed to dine out too when they both knew they couldn't afford it. He'd seemed to believe that they'd be able to pay off their debts sometime—whenever he landed the prestigious job he was convinced he deserved.

Louise sipped her coffee and looked at Sylvia. Her mascara had smudged, making black semicircles under her eyes. “What do you mean you hope you can't move?”

“Bayou Oil. Haven't you heard?” Sylvia said.

“I'm not exactly an expert on the oil-and-gas industry.”

“You are supposed to be an information specialist. This is important information.”

Louise rolled her eyes. She could do without the drama. Sylvia might have problems, but she had plenty of her own. “Just tell me. Please.”

Sylvia leaned back and tried to cross her legs but failed. She settled for sticking them out to the side, providing an obstacle for the students walking by with their frozen coffee concoctions. “Bayou Oil is laying people off.”

“But Jake has been there for years. He's safe, isn't he?”

“He makes enough money to be a good layoff candidate, but isn't quite high up enough to be immune. I'm supposed to have this baby in a week. I'm freaking out. We could lose our house.”

“Yeah, me too,” Louise said. She didn't want to beg for more money from Brendan or her aging mother. Asking for a loan was admitting defeat, and Louise was not ready to do that. She'd take a job at Walmart first.

“I could go on maternity leave and never come back. Damn it, Louise, we worked really hard for this. Being a professor is my dream job. I don't want to do anything else. Shoot, I might just stay home with the kids and bake cookies all day.”

“You don't even know how to make cookies. You use those dough rolls from the supermarket.” The thought of Sylvia trying to cook almost made Louise smile.

“Maybe I'll learn how to sew.”

“This isn't happening tomorrow, Sylvia. A&M has to give us a semester's notice. It's in our contracts.”

“No, it isn't.” Sylvia pulled herself up straighter in her chair. “Those are guidelines from the American Library Association. If the university declares exigency, they can do whatever they want. Even fire tenured professors. That's the law of the land.”

“State law?”

“State law. And the administration can't wait to get rid of us.”

Pigtail Girl was watching them again. She clearly thought Sylvia was crazy now. Of course the administration would fire a huge pregnant woman who sat in coffee shops complaining about the university all day. Louise shrugged. So much for the public relations campaign.

Sylvia shifted in her chair. “Crap, my water just broke.”

“Don't mess with me. I am seriously not in the mood.”

“Nope, the exact same thing happened with Jimmy. Let me get to the bathroom and you pull the car around.”

“My van is on the other side of campus.” Louise silently cursed the inflated faculty parking prices. She'd opted for a free student lot pass rather than paying fifty dollars per month to use the faculty garage.

“We'll take mine.” Sylvia tossed Louise her keys. “It's right in front of the Magnolia building.”

Before leaving, Louise glanced at the pigtailed student's table. Her icy drink had left a wet ring.

 

Bringing the kids to the hospital made about as much sense as driving a monster truck into a department store. But Sylvia insisted that she was going nuts lying in bed all day with no one to talk to. She needed her best friend. Louise missed Sylvia too. Her A&M office was lonely without Sylvia dropping by to complain about a demanding student or yet another rejected article. Adwell had wandered in a few times, but his robotic presence hadn't made her feel any better.

So she walked down the Lysol-scented hallway with the kids following, sort of.

“Zoe, come on!” Max was constantly frustrated with his little sister lately. In his eyes, she never did what she was supposed to.

Zoe had stopped to peer into one of the rooms. She stepped toward the open door.

Max turned to face her, on the verge of tears, and called out, “Zoe, this way! Zoe!”

Rather than following her brother's instructions, Zoe collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Max grabbed her hand. “Zoe, you're supposed to go this way.”

Louise backtracked and picked up her daughter, trying to comfort her by stroking her hair.

“No!” The girl turned herself into a limp, slippery noodle.

Louise was afraid she would drop Zoe, so she gave up and put her back down. Maybe she would follow. She did sometimes, at least more often than Max had at her age. But after a few steps, Zoe stopped to examine something on the floor. Exasperated, Louise took her hand.

“No!” Zoe threw herself down again.

Max ran back and stood next to his sister. He was sobbing now too. “Zoe, stand up.”

How hard was it to walk down a hallway without stopping, fighting, freaking out about nothing? Louise began walking again. Max started to follow, but stopped when he realized that Zoe was still sprawled out on the floor. “Mommy, pick Zoe up!”

Max didn't understand that she'd already tried that. In fact, she'd tried everything she could think of and she was ready to give up. She wished she had someone standing next to her. Someone who would say, “Let me do it.” When she tried to picture who that person could be, her mind was blank. Brendan wouldn't have helped. He'd either expect her to handle it or yell at the kids or her. He had no idea how to deal with little children. Worse, he didn't want to learn.

Jimmy's slightly maniacal laugh drifted out of one of the rooms.

“Jimmy!” Max dashed toward the sound, leaving his sister behind.

For some reason, that got Zoe moving. She ran down the hall after her brother, laughing. Tragedy had turned to elation in the course of a minute. Louise hoped none of the nurses were around. Everyone connected with Sylvia would be making way too much noise. Thinking about seeing her best friend made a tiny crack in her bad mood.

In the room, Zoe was transfixed by a bouquet of balloons above the bed.

“Ba-oon!” she said. “Ba-oon, Mommy!”

The baby was asleep in her hospital bassinet, somehow undisturbed by Max and Jimmy's excited shouting and Zoe's high-decibel voice. The cozy hospital room brought back memories of Max's birth. Brendan had slept on a foldout bed and changed the baby's diaper with an awestruck expression. During those two days in the maternity ward, Louise had believed that the three of them would be a happy family. The room was a warm, comfortable cocoon sheltering the little family from the world and providing them with everything they needed. The tiredness and arguing didn't start until they were back home. Louise spent the rest of their marriage trying to re-create the contentment and unity of those days. Zoe's birth was completely different. That time, she was alone for most of the hospital stay, enduring the pitying glances of the nurses. When it was over, Brendan had returned to pick her up from the hospital and driven her home in silence.

Sylvia reclined on a pile of powder blue pillows. She wore smoky eye makeup and a lacy nightgown. The slippers next to the bed had kitten heels and pompons. Zoe plopped down on the floor to try them on. “Shoe!”

“How's little Madeleine doing?” Louise asked.

“Great. She sleeps through everything,” Sylvia said. “I wish they would let us out of here.”

“Did you expect to pop the baby out, jump out of bed, and go home? You just had her last night.” Louise handed her a ten-piece box of Godiva chocolates.

“Thanks, girl. The food here is okay, but way too healthy.” Sylvia tore the cellophane from the box and examined the selection. She handed the caramel to Louise.

“Are you sure?”

“I know they're your favorite.”

Louise accepted the caramel and looked automatically for Zoe. The girl was already a chocolate fiend, but she was too busy knocking Sylvia's cards and stuffed animals onto the floor to notice the candy.

The boys were trying to pop the balloons and laughing. Jimmy was taller than Max, with lanky limbs and a thin face. He had his mother's red hair, but Jimmy's hair was more carrot than auburn. Louise never bothered to comb Max's hair because it tended to fall neatly into place. In contrast, Sylvia was constantly smoothing down Jimmy's unruly mop. She threatened to give him a buzz cut at least once a day.

“Maybe Jimmy will get us kicked out. He's driving the nurses crazy. One of them has told me three times that he needs to be quieter.” Sylvia shrugged.

“Where's Jake?”

“He ran down to the cafeteria for my fake latte. I'm thinking I should go ahead and wean Madeleine so I can have caffeine again.”

“How's his job looking?”

Sylvia ate a chocolate heart. “We haven't heard anything yet.”

Jake walked in, and Sylvia put a finger to her lips.

“What are you two gossiping about?” he asked, handing her a tall paper cup.

Sylvia accepted the coffee, tore off the top, and took a long swallow. “How we can find Louise a man as wonderful as you.”

“I don't come cheap.” Jake ruffled Jimmy's hair. “I'm going to get this boy out of here before he gets eighty-sixed. Come on, Godzilla.”

Jake gathered up Jimmy's toys and stuffed them into a tote bag. Sylvia's husband was amiable and nice-looking. He liked sports, which didn't interest Louise in the least. But he smiled a lot and put up with Sylvia's drama queen routine. Sylvia loved Jake in part because he was water to her fire. Calm to her storm. Louise preferred a man with more personality, more ideas. She sighed. There was no use daydreaming about what kind of man she would like to date. She didn't have the energy, and by the time she was ready, it would be too late.

“Jimmy!” Max cried.

“What a tragedy. You won't see him for twelve whole hours, until school tomorrow,” Louise said. “We should go too, before these kids wake all the poor sleeping sick people two floors up.”

All of the cards and stuffed animals were scattered on the floor. Zoe stood on top of a fat pink teddy bear and reached for a glass vase of roses on the end table. When Louise picked her up, the girl wailed and stretched her arms back toward the flowers.

Louise wanted to stay and talk to Sylvia, but Zoe was still shrieking, so she let Max follow Jimmy out the door.

“Bye, girl,” Sylvia said. “Call me later.”

“Do you want to walk?” Louise asked Zoe.

“No.” Zoe said no to everything these days, but Louise asked her anyway. She held out hope that someday the girl would say yes. About something, anything.

She set Zoe down on the floor and took her hand. Amazingly, her daughter walked placidly by her side. Jake was holding Jimmy's hand and Max trailed behind them. The sight made Louise sad. Max didn't have a dad, not really, and maybe he never would. At the moment, though, Max was happy to be with his friend. He didn't know what it meant to have a father. But he would start asking soon. What would she tell him?