“What is it?” Pearl asked, flying to my side.
“Books, Pearl! The books.” I laughed. The realization that the librarian job might still be open struck hope. “The library is hiring an assistant outreach librarian and needs a Pack Horse librarian. Maybe I can see if the job’s still open.”
“It would be perfect,” Pearl admitted, excited for me. “You were made for the job.”
“It would keep me in the hills and away from the law’s prying eyes. Steady work and weekends off.”
“Oh, maybe we could get together my next weekend off! I can have you up at the cab for dinner, dancing, and records. It will lift our spirits. We’ll have a pajama party! It’s been a while since I’ve had one. Let’s do that, Honey. My next weekend off is April 11.”
“Never had one, but I’ve read about the parties and seen pictures in the magazines. I’ll bring the books,” I offered, then quieted, a little embarrassed, wondering exactly one did at a pajama party, hoping she didn’t think of me as too backwards.
“Books and magazines sound dreamy,” she said.
It did sound dreamy and reminded me of the Norman Rockwell painting I’d seen in The Post. The one that showed three pretty girls dressed in frilly, colorful dresses off for a fun day on the town. A fun party was something I’d only read about. To be able to live it lifted my spirits. To escape, feel the freedoms of my young life, be sixteen for a moment even, an hour, a day, would be a respite like no other. Still, I wondered if any of that would happen, if the law found out I’d lost my guardian.
“Mother is sending me a package next week,” she said. “She ordered me some Avon, and we’ll do your nails, if you like.”
“I remember Mama curling my hair with strips of fabric. When it dried, she’d brush them out into soft ringlets.” I looked around, a flood of sadness coming over me, longing for them. The books we shared around the woodstove, our evenings on the porch. I pushed away my bowl, stood, and walked over to the window, playing with the soft folds of fabric Mama had sewed.
Pearl came up behind me and touched my shoulder.
“I miss them all so much,” I whispered, the anguish nearly suffocating the strained words, the rawness of fresh grief over Retta’s death weighted like rock on my heart. I took a deep breath. “Maybe I can get the librarian job. Having it would be in many ways like having my mama here. Having us both here and free.”
Eighteen
We talked on the porch until the night creatures’ chorals descended into the darkness, swallowing our sleepy voices.
When I climbed down from the loft in the morning, Pearl’s bed was neatly made and she was gone. A loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a tea cloth rested on the table. After I ate, I dressed quickly, then hurried to town. Passing the Company store, I glimpsed a few women chatting in front of the building, but mostly the town was quiet for a Monday morning. I nudged Junia into the back parking lot of the library. Inside, I scanned the bulletin board and whisked out a breath, relieved to see the post. I snatched the job position off and went to find Miss Foster. When I learned she was out on an errand, Mrs. Martin invited me to wait for her at a table, saying Miss Foster had to approve any hiring. She left to help a patron check out material.
With shaky hands, I read the advertisement again, smoothing out the wrinkled flyer.
WANTED, ASSISTANT OUTREACH LIBRARIAN
We have an opening for a respectable, steady, young female rider to deliver books and reading material in Knott County. Weekends off. Pay: $98 per month. Reply to Eula Foster.
Ninety-eight dollars. More than enough to keep food in the belly and me away from the watchful eyes of the law. I stared at the post and reread it again.
Worried, I picked up a magazine and tried to scan an article, but my eyes were drawn back to the door and windows. An hour later, Miss Foster came back and I blurted out her name. The librarian led me to her office, a finger to her lip, reminding me to stay quiet. Inside, Miss Foster said, “What can I help you with today, Honey?”