By Jerry
jerry@worldnet.att.net
 

DATE: Feb 16 2000
RATING: G
CATEGORY: S,A
KEYWORDS: Angst, MSR, Third-person POV
SPOILERS: Closure
DISCLAIMER: No profit made, no infringement intended.
ARCHIVE: No to Gossamer, Yes to Spookys, others please ask.
FEEDBACK: jerrycan...@worldnet.att.net
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Plausible Deniability and Dasha
for thoughtful and supportive beta.

This story is for Gwen and Kaye

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cross Mills
By Jerry
 

The day of the groundbreaking was crisp and clear, the reds,
greens and golden yellows of the leaves even more vivid than
usual against the bright blue sky. I wore my favorite sweater,
the oversized maroon one; partly for warmth against the fall
chill, and mostly for comfort on this day of reminders.

In my hands I carried one book. I hoped it would be the first
of many that I would take down the block to a new home, a place
where it would be cherished and poured over and remembered in
happy recollections of childhood. My son's book, our favorite.

The walk to the Cross Mills Library was familiar as any; I have
worked as a children's librarian for eight years. I took the
job for more than a second income. With pregnancy had come
images of my child learning and imagining and playing make-
believe and I found, suddenly, that I wanted to be in a place
where those things were honored. So I presented myself at the
small office of Mrs. Claremont, the librarian, and shared my
love of Pooh and E.L. Konigsberg and Harold and the Purple
Crayon. I started work the next day.

We were always pressed for space, but we managed. The number
of children who attended our programs and crowded into the shelves
of the youth section increased dramatically in the summer, when
families came to stay in their houses at Green Hill, Charlestown
Beach, and Quonochontaug. But summer also brought pleasant
temperatures and we sat outside for readings and other programs
when we could.

From now on, space wouldn't be an issue. This was the day we
would break ground on the new children's wing: a small annex
off the back of the library that would hold our books and
child-size chairs and the collection of mobiles created
by a local artisan. We were even going to have a small
semicircle of carpeted steps -- a tiny amphitheater -- on which
children could sit to listen to stories or see a puppet show.
We would have the wall space to hang some of our favorite book
posters and we finally would be able to host field trips from
the local schools.

I saw a loose pebble on the sidewalk in front of me and began
kicking it with the toe of my shoe, watching it skip ahead of me
as Jamie used to do, bouncing lightly off the concrete and
making unexpected small twists to the right and left. When the
annex was completed, I would start working full-time at the
library. Rob didn't mind -- and I had the time now, after all.

A small crowd -- about fifty people -- was already gathered at
the library when I arrived. The Cross Mills library is built in
a wide V; the new addition, extending off the back, would make
it a Y. I joined the families and old-time Washington County
residents around back.

The footprint for the new wing was marked with short stakes that
were connected with white string. Small red flags tied to the
center of each length of string were meant to prevent any of us
from tripping. In one corner, a shovel was stuck point down in
the dirt; a red bow decorated its handle. Next to it sat a
brand-new bright green wheelbarrow with a large white bow for
each of its grips.

Children were darting everywhere and most had red and white
helium balloons; the littlest ones had the strings tied to their
wrists or clothing.   Mr. Estes, head of the volunteer fire
department, scampered around anonymously in full clown makeup
and regalia. Roger, our high school intern, had apparently
found a CD with circus music -- notes from a calliope came from a
boombox on the grass next to the borrowed podium and bounced in
swirls all around us.

Mrs. Claremont and the mayor moved to the podium. Mayor
Fielding bent his six-foot-three frame in half and turned off
the music and Mrs. Claremont tapped the microphone, leaning
forward tentatively.

"If I could have everyone's attention, I think we're ready to
begin. Gather around, everyone!"

As the adults and children gathered together, some fathers
putting sons or daughters on their shoulders for a better view,
I caught sight of the couple standing at the far edge of the
library's small parking lot. A tall man, dressed in jeans,
green sweater and leather jacket, was half-seated on the hood
of a blue sedan. Next to him, a woman with red hair tilted her
head up to him as her arms clasped a package to her chest. I
kept my eyes on them for a moment, thinking I would gesture for
them to join us -- but they were too far away and their attention
was on each other.

Mrs. Claremont began her speech. "Welcome, everyone, to the
groundbreaking for the new children's annex at the Cross Mills
Library!"

Applause from the adults and cheers from the children were
punctuated by Mr. Estes' kazoo and his impromptu fanfare.
Laughter rang out around me. I clutched Jamie's book more
tightly and took a deep breath.

"Next July," Mrs. Claremont continued, "you children and those
who join you for the summer will have a brand new room all for
yourselves. Mrs. Mitchell," -- and here, she gestured toward me
-- "has already talked with you a little bit about how
everything will look, but I'll bet that it will be even better
than you expect!"

The children cheered and pulled at the strings of their balloons
so that the air was filled with bobbing red and white polka
dots.

Mrs. Claremont continued on enthusiastically, but I found myself
drifting onto a gentle wave of recollection and her voice became
faint beside the one in my head; the one that was carefully
sounding out the words he had heard so many times before.

"The Mole had long wanted to make the...a...aquaintance of the
Badger. He seemed, by all...accounts, to be such an
important...person...persona...per..."

"Personage." The memory of my own voice.

"Personage. To be such an important personage and..."

"...though rarely visible."

The young voice became indignant -- "I know, Mom, I can do it
myself!...though rarely vi-si-ble, to make his unseen...influence
felt by everybody about the place. But whenever the
Mole...mentioned his wish to the Water Rat he always found
himself put off. Mom, what's `put off?'"

"Jamie, you know that one. Told to wait."

"Oh. Like you tell me to put off candy until after dinner."

"Just like." I heard the smile in the distant echo of my words.

ZZZZ-ZZ-ZAAAAAAAH! Another raspy fanfare from Mr. Estes'
kazoo jolted me back into the present and I blinked away tears. I
took a deep breath and focused on Mrs. Claremont's cheery voice.

"Now as you all know, " she continued, "our generous donor has
not wanted to make a fuss about his gift to our library. He
has, however, agreed to our placing a plaque in the new wing.
We will be very proud to do so." As she spoke, she placed her
hands on a flat rectangular package sitting on the podium in
front of her.

"And now," Mrs. Claremont concluded, "let's welcome Mayor
Fielding!"

The mayor took his place behind the podium and waved at some of
the children sitting high on their parents' shoulders, then began to
speak as the applause died down.

"I'm happy to see that you all have brought your own donations
today -- everyone have one?" he asked -- and in response, books
were raised high all around the crowd, creating another dance
of color.

"Good, good. Well, in just a moment I'm going to go over to
that corner that's marked off and put my shovel in the dirt so
we can get this project going. As soon as I do, you children
bring your books over to me. I told you that we'd see how many
I could hold -- do you think I can hold all the books you brought
today?"

"Nooooooooo!" rang out the delighted voices of the children.

"Even with these looooong arms and big hands?" The mayor spread
his arms wide and stretched his fingers to demonstrate.

"Noooooooo!" Giggles and laughter rippled through the crowd.

The mayor deepened his voice and wagged a long finger at the
group. "Well, we'll just see about that. Of course, we've
always got the wheelbarrow!"

Cheers rose as he left the podium and marched toward the
ceremonial shovel. The photographer from the local newspaper
ran around the perimeter of the crowd and stepped gingerly over
the flagged string to get a clear shot.

I didn't move with the rest of the spectators. Suddenly, I
didn't want to give up the book I held. I wanted to take it
home and place it back with the others on the shelf in his room.
Everything was perfect and here I was taking it apart. I needed
to go home.

I turned to leave and ran right into the woman with the red
hair.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I said. "I didn't see you."

"That's all right," she replied, "I'm fine. I just wanted to...I
have a book here." She held out the volume I had seen her with
earlier. I shifted so that I was standing to her side and could
see the title.

"'A Wrinkle in Time.' Oh, I love that book." We didn't get to
that one, Jamie, I thought.

"It was my favorite as a girl," she said. "In many ways, it
still is. This is the one I've had all my life. It is okay
that it's used, right? I called ahead of time and the librarian
said-"

"Oh yes," I reassured her, "that's what today is all about.
We're sharing our favorite books with each other by donating
them for the new wing."

"It's a wonderful idea."

"It's the least we could do after the donation of the-" I
stopped and looked beyond the woman to the man still standing
by the blue sedan. "Is that...? I mean...is he...?"

"Yes," she said simply, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't
tell anyone. He doesn't want a fuss."

"I understand," I said, and I did. On the day after the
funeral, when well-meaning neighbors and friends were still
dropping by with food and words of comfort, I left Rob to greet
them and I fled to the beach. Taking off my shoes, despite the
chilly April wind off the sea, I stood in the sand and gritted
my teeth when the icy water washed around my ankles. My toes
ached and my stomach churned and I wept for my Jamie and all the
books we would never read.

"I understand," I repeated. The donor may have wanted to remain
in the shadows, but old-timers knew the story of the Mulders and
their children, and the story had gotten around. I looked over
again at the tall figure standing alone and counted the years he
had been without his sister.

"I hope he knows," I mused, almost to myself, "how much this
means -- how much it will mean."

"I think he does," the woman replied, turning to look back at
him. "For him, it's an end and a beginning."

...and a beginning. The words resonated and I let them vibrate in
my heart.

"So...would it be all right if I gave them my book now?" The
woman gestured toward the mayor, his arms holding a teetering
pile of books, and the swarm of children around him.

"Oh - yes, sure. Please." I felt warmer and took off my
sweater. "I have one, too."

We walked together through the gathering until we reached the
green wheelbarrow.

"Well, " she said, holding the book out without letting go. I
looked at her and saw a tear fall down her cheek. Her next
words were a whisper, a message to someone only she could see.

"I hope you like it as much as I did."

She placed the book on top of the others already stacked there.
Turning quickly, she put her hand on my arm. "It was very nice
to meet you. Thank you for your help," she said, and then she
was gone.

I stared at the rainbow of covers in front of me. If I wait, I
thought, I won't be able to do it. I placed the pale green book
on the pile and gave my own benediction.

"Here it is, Jamie. You let me know if you need any help with
the long words."

I backed away and my place was taken by a family of four, the
mother holding her daughter up so she could reach the top of the
stack with her copy of "Ant and Bee." The son carefully placed
a copy of "Mr. Popper's Penguins" beside it and I saw that
Jamie's book was embraced by the two new volumes. Not alone.
Not alone.

I took a deep breath and let it out. I found Mrs. Claremont and
she enveloped me in a hug. "Wind in the Willows," she said into
my ear. "A perfect choice." Giving me an extra squeeze, she
stepped back and smiled at me before moving on to another guest.

As I walked toward the front of the library and towards the
sidewalk that would lead back to my house, I looked once more to
the end of the parking lot. The red-haired woman had just
reached her companion. As she came close to him, he reached out
and placed his hands on either side of her face, leaned down,
and kissed her. Her hands went around his waist and when the
kiss ended, they stayed together, foreheads touching.

Rob will be home soon, I thought. I'll bet he'd love it if I
fixed that spicy chicken dish we tried last year.

I tied the sweater around my waist and headed home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sit in the new maple rocker. Children are all around me,
looking up expectantly. I open the pale green cover and flip
through the first few pages until I reach the first chapter.

"The Mole had been working very hard all the morning," I read,
"spring-cleaning his little home."

I know the opening words by heart and as I continue to tell the
story, I glance at the wall to my left. The burnished brass of
the plaque catches the light of the morning sun coming in the
windows of the annex, and the inscription is clear.

Given in loving memory of
Samantha Ann Mulder
        1965-1979
     by her brother
  September 1, 2000.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~There really is a Cross Mills Library in Charlestown, RI,
but everything else comes from my imagination.

~The excerpts from 'The Wind in the Willow' by
Kenneth Grahame are used without permission but with
lots of love and good memories.

~'A Wrinkle in Time' is by Madeleine L'Engle
and if you haven't read it, why not?

this story and my others can be found at my website:
http://jerrycanary.home.att.net
I'd love to hear from you:
jerrycan...@worldnet.att.net