Free After Me by Joyce Scarbrough Page A
Authors: Joyce Scarbrough
away.”
I actually considered it a second before I realized I was being mocked by a library mouse.
“Cute,” I said with a cheesy smile. “But don’t pretend you aren’t excited to see him too. At least I’m honest about it.” I braced myself for the lightning bolt that was sure to strike me for claiming that virtue.
When we went inside, Annalee was greeted by every employee in the library. I was busy looking for Lew, but I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful the place was, especially the murals painted on two of the walls. One looked like a Cuban festival and the other featured famous African-Americans. There was also a display of kids’ artwork in the children’s fiction room.
“Don’t forget to call your foster mom,” Annalee said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me and make them not want us to be friends.”
I had to laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure they don’t want me hanging out with somebody who takes me on unauthorized library visits.”
“Well, you still should call,” she said. “The phone’s over there at the circulation desk.” She indicated a station in the center of the fiction room. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for Lew so he doesn’t escape.”
I stuck my tongue out at her before walking over to the desk. Just as I expected, Karen was thrilled to hear I’d made a friend and was at the library with her. I promised to call when we got to Annalee’s house and purposely didn’t mention what part of town we were in.
“Mr. Christopher is upstairs at the reference desk,” Annalee said when I got off the phone. “He’s the one who does the classic book discussion group and gave me the list. We can check the study rooms and the computer lab to see if Lew’s up there.”
I followed her up the stairs, admiring the framed prints on the walls. “They’re really big on art in this place, huh?”
She nodded. “Mr. Christopher says it brings in a lot of patrons who might otherwise never step foot in a library. They support all the fine arts, like movies, concerts and plays.”
When we got to the top of the stairs, I saw a row of chairs facing the large windows, all of them occupied by scraggly-looking people. Most of them were asleep, but one old lady who looked like she was wearing every ratty article of clothing she owned was reading a book with a lighthouse on the cover. She looked up and waved at Annalee.
“That’s Hazel.” Annalee waved back at the woman as I followed her into the big room in the center of the floor. “She’s read just about every book in the library and can remember the characters and plots from most of them.”
“Is she homeless?”
Annalee nodded. “She has paranoid schizophrenia. She used to be a teacher but lost her job, her house and all her money when her medication stopped working after her husband died.”
“How do you know so much about her?”
“Mr. Christopher told me, and I’ve talked to her some too. She’s a nice lady except for thinking the government has assassins looking for her. Mr. Christopher convinced her the killers would never think to look for her in the library. That’s why she spends most of her time here reading.”
I gave her a suspicious look. “You sound kinda sweet on this Mr. Christopher. Is he cute?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I like him.” She blushed one of her medium shades. “He knows more about books than anybody I’ve ever known. Now, shush. There he is.”
The man behind the desk smiled when he saw Annalee, and I was relieved to see it was just a fond smile and not a lecherous one. Not that I really expected the library to be staffed by perverts, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to eliminate Annalee’s hero.
“Hey, Mr. Christopher,” Annalee said. “This is my friend Gwen. Can we get a copy of your list of classics for her?”
“Most certainly.” He took a sheet of paper from one of the drawers to his left. “Glad to meet you, Gwen. Maybe you can help me talk
I actually considered it a second before I realized I was being mocked by a library mouse.
“Cute,” I said with a cheesy smile. “But don’t pretend you aren’t excited to see him too. At least I’m honest about it.” I braced myself for the lightning bolt that was sure to strike me for claiming that virtue.
When we went inside, Annalee was greeted by every employee in the library. I was busy looking for Lew, but I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful the place was, especially the murals painted on two of the walls. One looked like a Cuban festival and the other featured famous African-Americans. There was also a display of kids’ artwork in the children’s fiction room.
“Don’t forget to call your foster mom,” Annalee said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me and make them not want us to be friends.”
I had to laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure they don’t want me hanging out with somebody who takes me on unauthorized library visits.”
“Well, you still should call,” she said. “The phone’s over there at the circulation desk.” She indicated a station in the center of the fiction room. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for Lew so he doesn’t escape.”
I stuck my tongue out at her before walking over to the desk. Just as I expected, Karen was thrilled to hear I’d made a friend and was at the library with her. I promised to call when we got to Annalee’s house and purposely didn’t mention what part of town we were in.
“Mr. Christopher is upstairs at the reference desk,” Annalee said when I got off the phone. “He’s the one who does the classic book discussion group and gave me the list. We can check the study rooms and the computer lab to see if Lew’s up there.”
I followed her up the stairs, admiring the framed prints on the walls. “They’re really big on art in this place, huh?”
She nodded. “Mr. Christopher says it brings in a lot of patrons who might otherwise never step foot in a library. They support all the fine arts, like movies, concerts and plays.”
When we got to the top of the stairs, I saw a row of chairs facing the large windows, all of them occupied by scraggly-looking people. Most of them were asleep, but one old lady who looked like she was wearing every ratty article of clothing she owned was reading a book with a lighthouse on the cover. She looked up and waved at Annalee.
“That’s Hazel.” Annalee waved back at the woman as I followed her into the big room in the center of the floor. “She’s read just about every book in the library and can remember the characters and plots from most of them.”
“Is she homeless?”
Annalee nodded. “She has paranoid schizophrenia. She used to be a teacher but lost her job, her house and all her money when her medication stopped working after her husband died.”
“How do you know so much about her?”
“Mr. Christopher told me, and I’ve talked to her some too. She’s a nice lady except for thinking the government has assassins looking for her. Mr. Christopher convinced her the killers would never think to look for her in the library. That’s why she spends most of her time here reading.”
I gave her a suspicious look. “You sound kinda sweet on this Mr. Christopher. Is he cute?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I like him.” She blushed one of her medium shades. “He knows more about books than anybody I’ve ever known. Now, shush. There he is.”
The man behind the desk smiled when he saw Annalee, and I was relieved to see it was just a fond smile and not a lecherous one. Not that I really expected the library to be staffed by perverts, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to eliminate Annalee’s hero.
“Hey, Mr. Christopher,” Annalee said. “This is my friend Gwen. Can we get a copy of your list of classics for her?”
“Most certainly.” He took a sheet of paper from one of the drawers to his left. “Glad to meet you, Gwen. Maybe you can help me talk