Holly Jacobs - A Valley Ridge Christmas

“It’s something. And it’s not only a job, it’s...hope. I haven’t felt hope in a long time.”

Since he was smiling, she decided to press her luck. “Will you let me help with Josie? Maybe make a meal, or mind Carl? If the doctor has her on bed rest, I can’t imagine taking care of a toddler is easy.”

He took a deep breath. “Yes. That would be great.”

“Fine. I’ve got book club tonight, but tomorrow, after work, I’ll come get Carl and he can visit with me at the library. That will give you both a break.”

Boyd nodded, then got out of the car and walked toward the RV while Maeve went into her house.

He’d called her an angel. She snorted. She took off her coat and boots and sat at her dining table without turning on a light. She didn’t need one to know that Mrs. Anderson’s cross-stitch was on the wall.

Maeve had helped, but surely there was something more she could do.

When she was young, she’d needed help. Her mother had needed help. And now that she thought about it, like Boyd, they’d lost hope. Admittedly, she still found it difficult to talk about those times. She should have told Boyd. Should have explained. Maybe he’d feel better about accepting her aid if he knew how Hank Bennington had given them a hand. Mrs. Anderson at the library and her principal, Ms. Mac, had helped, too. Not one of them had asked for anything in return, either.

Not one of them had saved the world when they’d helped her, but they’d certainly saved Maeve and her mom.

She’d done things to try to repay their generosity over the years. Volunteering at the library was one of those things, but there had been others.

Though none of it seemed like enough.

* * *

AARON NAVIGATED A SLIPPERY PATH to the library. It seemed ridiculous to drive the short distance from his uncle’s apartment above the supply store, but he wished he had. It was warming up and the snow was turning to slush. To make matters worse, Aaron hadn’t put on his boots because he knew that the sidewalks had all been cleared. He’d worn his sneakers, which were now soaked through.

Wet sneakers did nothing to improve his mood.

He wasn’t in Florida anymore.

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a funk. His family would say it was par for the course. He had been working pretty hard around the store. But he liked working so that wasn’t the cause of his bad mood. He just didn’t have time for frivolous endeavors.

And going to the library tonight was one of the frivolous endeavors he should have avoided. He should have stayed at home and ordered an ebook. It would have been delivered instantly to any number of the devices that he could read it on. But there was something about holding a printed book.

But it was too late to turn around and go back. He could see the library from over the bridge, and he was closer to it than his uncle’s apartment, so he kept on slogging through the slush.

He passed the small cottage that bordered the library. There were a few trees and a small stone wall that separated the cottage from the library’s parking lot. He knew it was Maeve’s house. There was a big old RV parked in front of it. When Uncle Jerry had called earlier that day, Aaron casually mentioned having met Maeve. Uncle Jerry told him the same thing Dylan had—that Maeve had almost single-handedly reopened the library, which had closed about a decade ago. And every customer who came into the supply store had been talking about the family Maeve had taken in.

“They’re not staying in a barn behind the inn, but an RV in a driveway is close enough,” he’d overheard Mrs. Dedionisio say to Mrs. Keith.

The two women had gone on and on about the young homeless couple who were expecting a baby at Christmas, as he set up a snowbrush display and eavesdropped.

He’d wished the conversation would turn to Maeve.

Aaron didn’t know what to make of the fiery redhead who volunteered her time at a library and took in homeless families.

She had to have an angle. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d learned the hard way that everyone had one.

To listen to his uncle and the customers, she was too good to be true. And Aaron knew that if something seemed too good to be true, it generally was.

Maybe it was his curiosity about her, more than some burning need to borrow a book that had driven him from his warm house tonight. He wanted to see Maeve again, and, according to his uncle, she was at the library most evenings.

There were roughly half a dozen cars in the parking lot and a neon sign in the window read Open. He stomped up the marble stairs. Someone had tossed sand on them to prevent people from slipping.

He opened the door and was greeted not only by heat, but noise.

He spotted Maeve immediately. Even if her hair had been a more sedate color, she would have still stood out. She sat on one of the wooden chairs arranged in a circle in front of the checkout counter. She was laughing at what someone had said. It struck him that there were a lot of people making a lot of racket and this librarian was not shushing a soul.

When she saw him, her laughter died. So did her smile. She turned to an older woman, said something, and then approached him. “May I help you?”

“I came in to browse,” he said.

“Fine. Help yourself. If you find something you want to borrow, we’ll set you up with a file.”

“Not a card?”

“This is a small library. I just started a database and whenever someone borrows a book, I mark it in their file. When they return it, I take it off. It saves people losing cards and the library the expense of reissuing them.”

He nodded. “Is there a time limit?”

“Time limit?” she asked.

“A deadline the book has to be returned by?”

“When you finish?” She made the statement sound like a question. She was looking at him as if he was nuts.

Aaron couldn’t help it if he liked things spelled out. He pressed on. “But what if someone else is waiting to borrow it?”

Maeve sighed and the movement caused her hair to flutter. He wasn’t sure what else to call it. Her hair moved.

Maeve smoothed it back, she’d noticed its movement, too. “If someone else is waiting to borrow it and you’ve had it a long time, then I’ll send you an email and tell you that. Most people are polite enough to hurry and finish it, or bring it back and sign it out again when they have more time and there’s no waiting list.”

“Maeve?” an older gentleman in the midst of the gathering called out.

Maeve held up a finger indicating she’d be right with him, and then turned to Aaron. “If you have any problems, holler. We’re in the middle of book club.”

“What is the book club reading?” Aaron asked.

She sighed again. Sometimes Aaron felt he wasn’t very good at reading people, but he had no problem understanding that Maeve was finding him frustrating.

“We finished Jim Butcher’s first Harry Dresden novel and we’re starting The Hobbit next. The English department at the high school wanted a book that was universal. Something both older and younger readers would enjoy. They’ve assigned the book to their classes over winter break. The kids get extra credit if they show up for our competition next week.”

“I never heard of a book club competition.”

“This is a first for me, too. But the teachers and I came up with it as a way to engage students and adults in the club. We’re having a riddle competition. The kids get bonus marks for attending. And those who show up for our regular January meeting will get extra credit if they join in the discussion.”

“Riddles?”

“Have you ever read the book?” Maeve countered.

Aaron frowned.

“Watched the movies?”

Again he frowned.