“It sounds like you’re doing all you can,” Nora said. “I doubt anyone can truly be ready for something like this.”
“No,” Herschel agreed. “I just wish I could make her loss easier to bear. But look at me. I’m no knight in shining armor. When it all goes dark for my Vera, I’ll want to give her rainbows. But how can I?”
His question hung in the air, as beautiful and fragile as a snowflake.
“Vera’s other senses may be heightened after her sight is gone,” Nora said. “Luckily, her husband has a melodious speaking voice. Your voice can create images in Vera’s mind, which means you can be her knight in shining armor.”
“But I’m no good at reading,” Herschel lamented. “I was terrible at it in school. My son says I’m probably dyslexic.”
Nora could suggest that Herschel and Vera could listen to audiobooks together, but she knew that Herschel was looking to delight his wife on a personal and intimate level. “Herschel. Are you willing to close your eyes while I read you a few lines from a children’s poem?”
He readily agreed, and Nora hurried to the children’s section to retrieve a copy of Hailstones and Halibut Bones.
When she returned to the readers’ circle, she asked Hershel to name his favorite color.
“Blue.”
Nora smiled. “Mine too. Okay. Now, close your eyes and listen.”
In a slow, clear voice, she began to read the poem aloud.
“Blue is twilight, Shadows on snow, Blue is feeling, Way down low.”
As the poem’s images of cloudless skies, seas, forget-me-nots, herons, sapphires, and winter mornings drifted over Herschel, he visibly relaxed. His face cleared and his breath slowed. He looked like he was dreaming, but Nora knew that he was awake.
When she reached the end of the poem, Nora asked Herschel if he’d been able to picture any of the images.
“Most of them. I could see them in here!” He tapped his temple. “Miss Nora, I gotta have that book. And lots more just like it.”
Nora made arrangements to ship Where the Sidewalk Ends, The Night Gardener by Terry and Eric Fan, When Green Becomes Tomatoes: Poems for All Seasons, The Day the Crayons Quit, James and the Giant Peach, Mary Oliver’s House of Light, and several joke books to Herschel and Vera’s home. The entire process took less than twenty minutes, and Nora enjoyed every second of it.
As he was leaving the bookshop, Herschel turned to look at Nora. Putting his hand over his heart, he said, “You’re an angel.”
*
By closing time, Nora was completely worn out. It had been an excellent day for sales, starting with the lodge guests and continuing with a parade of festivalgoers, but the heavy traffic had left the shop in disarray. Nora had to tidy the ticket agent’s booth before she went home. If not, she’d never hear the end of it from Sheldon.
If he comes in tomorrow.
She hoped that he’d feel up to working because Fridays were always busy. In addition to the lodge and other area hotel guests, more festivalgoers would be passing through town.
“And we have to make a magical window display,” Nora said, eying the stack of books she and Sheldon had picked out.
Friday had all the makings of a workday that stretched into a work night, which meant pizza delivery, loud music on the radio, and, if they were willing, a little help from Nora’s friends.
She sent a group SOS text to the Secret, Book, and Scone Society. The four women had become friends following the murder of a visiting businessman. They shared a love of books and food, and had also shared their deepest, most painful secrets with one another. They were now Nora’s family, and she trusted them with her life.
Minutes after her text went out, Nora received replies from Hester and Estella, owner of Magnolia Salon and Spa. Both women promised to lend a hand.
June didn’t reply, but she was probably busy cooking dinner.
At the thought of a home-cooked meal, Nora’s stomach rumbled. She wondered if she had anything at home to eat besides an overripe banana and a box of spaghetti.
“It’s too hot to boil water,” she told Ina Garten as she shelved a copy of Barefoot Contessa at Home.
Nora had just finished wiping off the counters in the ticket agent’s booth when the sleigh bells banged. It had been too early to lock the front door when she started cleaning, and though it was now past closing time, she couldn’t chase out this last-minute customer. Not when every light was on and James Taylor’s Greatest Hits was still playing.
“It’s just me!” June sang out. “I have a treat for you.”