Nan Rossiter - The Gin and Chowder Club

Asa stood up and wiped his eyes. Samuel reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and handed Asa several crisp bills. “This is for gas and to hold you over until your first paycheck. Call if you need more.” Asa reached out to shake his father’s hand, and Samuel smiled and pulled him into a hug. “We’ll miss you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Dad.”

“Behave.”

“I will,” Asa said with a half-smile.

Asa turned the truck onto Route 6 and pulled into the first gas station he came to. An attendant filled up the truck and told Asa he needed a quart of oil. Asa nodded, and while the attendant took care of it, he walked over to the soda machine and dropped in a quarter. He tilted a frosty bottle of Dr Pepper into the metal slot, popped off the cap, and took a sip. He handed the attendant one of the bills his father had given him, took his change, climbed into the truck, and pulled back onto Route 6 West. As he turned onto the familiar rotary, he leaned across the seat to unroll the window and pictured Martha leaning out as far as she could with her ears flapping in the breeze. Asa eased over to the right and onto the highway entrance, and as he did, he glanced to his left and caught the taillights of a turquoise Bel Air turning off the rotary and heading toward Orleans. Asa squinted at the plate. It was definitely from Massachusetts, but he couldn’t make out the numbers, and then it was gone. Asa slowed down to a crawl, and the car that had been behind him drove by, beeping its horn, but Asa just stared straight ahead, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, his heart pounding.

Noelle returned to Boston a few days later, tan and refreshed. Nate pulled her into his arms and said she looked beautiful. He stroked her belly and murmured, “How is he? ”

“What do you mean, he? ”

“Just a guess,” he said with a quiet smile. “What shall we call him?”

Noelle closed her eyes. “You know…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She paused. “I’m sure.”

She tried to pull away, but Nate wasn’t ready to let go. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

The Howe Library was established in 1900 when Emily Howe donated her family home to the town of Hanover, praying that “this library may prove a blessing to this community to the remotest generation.” The house had originally been commissioned by Eleazar Wheelock, founder and president of Dartmouth College, and was built in 1773 by a journeyman carpenter named Hezekiah Davenport. “The Wheelock Mansion,” as it was called, was originally a two-story structure with a gambrel roof and four chimneys.

Asa walked along the shady tree-lined street and looked up at the historic old structure. It was only his second day at the library, but he already felt as if he knew as much about the building as the town’s historian. From the librarian, Mrs. Draper, he had learned that the original building had been bought and moved to its present address at West Wheelock Street in 1838. He also knew that the building had gone through several drastic renovations; that the Howe family did not begin residing there until 1851; and that it was not until 1888 or so that the Widow Howe, Emily’s mother, actually purchased the house.

Asa pulled open the heavy door and immediately felt at home. He loved the dusty smell of old books and papers. He smiled at the librarian, found the ancient wooden book cart, and wheeled it along the fiction aisles, looking for Alcott, Louisa May, and pictured the young girl who must have just finished Little Women. He continued on, slipped a slim volume of Edgar Allan Poe off the shelf for himself, and then began to look for Steinbeck-someone had just returned the tome East of Eden. Asa put it back in its place between Cannery Row and Of Mice and Men and continued on, pushing the cart around the corner. He looked up and saw a young woman about his age sitting at a table by the window. She was slender, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and she had a mountain of books and papers in front of her. Asa wondered what she was working on.

It was unusually cool for the first day of summer. Noelle clutched the ticket in her hand and waited impatiently for the bus to pull in. Nate had said he would be working late, but that still didn’t allow much time for what she needed to do. She wondered for the hundredth time if she should have driven. No, I made the right choice. Nate would surely notice the spike in miles on her odometer, and it would be easier for her to ride than drive. She just prayed that she didn’t have another recurrence of pain. Oh, God, I wish the bus would get here…

Asa glanced at the calendar and could not believe it was already the first day of summer. He went into the library early. It didn’t take long to shelve the few books that had been returned. He leaned on his cart and wondered how he would stay busy. He was definitely going to have to find a second job-one that would actually keep him busy. Finally, he decided to ask Mrs. Draper if he might come back later in the afternoon. She peered at him over her glasses, looked around the quiet library, and nodded.

Noelle stared out the window as the bus crossed into New Hampshire. Raindrops streamed across the glass, chasing each other, and she wished she had thought to bring an umbrella. She stroked her belly to calm herself, and the familiar little foot responded, pushing out. She felt a tightening, dull pain, but it was not nearly as bad as before. Her doctor had assured her it was only false labor and not to worry. She had a little over a week before her due date. She looked out at the green hills and smiled as her hand followed the little bulge that swept across her belly.

Asa pushed open the library door and realized it was sprinkling. He paused to watch the young woman from the day before hurrying up the walk. Her arms were full of books, and he held the door for her. She nodded and thanked him. He nodded back and wondered if he should stay. He glanced at the sky-no, he would go. While he was on his run that morning, he had seen the farmer’s son hooking up the baler, and he was certain they could use a hand getting in the hay before it rained…

Noelle paused to glance from the piece of paper in her hand to the street sign marking the intersection of West Wheelock and South Main. The rain had let up, but it was still gray and cool. She pulled her sweater snugly around her body, as best she could, and turned toward the library. She felt her heart race, and she tried to catch her breath.

The rusty green and yellow tractor slowed down as Asa walked across the field. One of the farmer’s sons strained to throw a heavy bale to his younger brother and then paused to look up.

“Need a hand?” Asa shouted, motioning with his arms.

The farmer looked at the threatening sky and nodded. Asa fell in opposite the older son, and they both worked the field. The boys looked at him curiously, and the older son recognized him as the runner… but thought he knew him from somewhere else too. The bales were heavy, and the twine burned Asa’s hands. He wished he had gloves, but when he looked at the two boys, he noticed that they didn’t have any either; he would just have to rough it.