Chapter 18

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Marimar  

Chapter 18

A rush of cold air hits us as we enter.  We walk over to the front desk.  The line is short; only two people are standing in front of us.  I look around.  For a small town they have a pretty good sized library.  It’s a lot bigger than it looked from the street.  You can see where they made a huge addition in the back.  There are rows of books and in the back is a long row of computers.  All of the computers are taken, which isn’t going to be a problem since I brought my laptop and they have WIFI.  The atmosphere is peaceful, a great contrast to the atmosphere in my house.  It’s quiet, except for the occasional murmurs and the shuffling of books.

The line moves up and finally we’re the only ones in line.  We approach the elderly librarian, whose name plate reads Mrs. Kimberly, at the front desk.  She looks around her sixties.  She has gray hair that is pulled up into a bun and warm eyes the color of amber.  She’s wearing a gray suit, and around the back of her neck lies a beaded chain that attaches to her old lady glasses that are hanging on to the tip of her nose.  As we approach the desk a warm smile appears on her face.

“How may I help you two?”  Mrs. Kimberly looks to Sage and then to me.

“I was hoping you can help me find a book about the old blacksmiths shop,” I respond.  The smile fades from her lips and her eyes lose all of their warmth.  The whole place turns quiet — I can feel everybody’s eyes on us.  Mrs. Kimberly purses her lips.

“If I were you two, I would leave this alone and mind my own business,” she scolds, while shaking her pointer finger at us.

“This is my business, ma’am.  I live in that house.”  I hear a few silent gasps and whispers.

“Well, then I hope you can find the information on your own.”  She gives me a smug smile.  I hear a few stray laughs of approval.  Bitch.

“Thank you, for your Southern Hospitality, ma’am.  You were a great help,” I retort, mimicking her accent; I even match her smile.  Her eyes narrow.  As I turn around and storm off with Sage at my side, every eye in the building is on us, condemning us.  Their piercing stares follow our every move.

“That was weird,” Sage whispers.

“Bitchy old broad,” I mutter.

Strategically, we sit at a work table near the back of the library to make it harder for people to stare at us without it being obvious; some still do.

“I didn’t realize that my house was so popular,” I say aloud.

“Lower your voice,” Sage whispers, “you wouldn’t want us to get kicked out would you?”  I don’t answer.  I hunch over and I glare down at the desk, tracing the rings in the smoothed wood.  My hair covers my face, hiding me from the onlookers.  He attempts to stroke my hair but I shirk his touch and I wave him away — I’m too angry even for his touch.  We sit in silence for a few minutes as I try to tame my temper.  The snide remarks circling around us aren’t helping.

“That’s it.  I’m gonna go look for a book about your house.  You can join me or you can sit there and sulk,” Sage whispers while getting up from his seat.  I don’t budge.  I can feel him hovering over me.  He leans down close to my ear and whispers sweetly, “You know if you want to go we can leave, we don’t have to stay here.  But, you probably aren’t gonna be able to find out any information if we do.”  He’s really vexing me.  I don’t stir.  If he doesn’t leave me alone for a second, I’m really going to go off on him.

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