Mr. Morgan stared at me for the longest moment, mulling over something in his own mind. “Let me get back to the office and work on it and also talk with a few ministers.”
“Would I have to marry?”
“I’ll know more soon.”
I followed him out the door. From the porch, I watched as the men got on their horses.
Carson rode over, looked down at me, then off toward the mountains. “Honey, we’ve sure missed having a book woman in them hills. Be nice to have books in the cabin again for me and my little nieces and nephews. Ma would really like that.” He looked at me thoughtful, and bent over with an open palm. “Be like ol’ times, True,” Carson called me by the nickname he’d given me.
“Ol’ times.” I stepped up to his mount and took his hand, warmed by his kind proposal today.
“The offer’s still there, Honey, and I would honor ya everyday, build us a good home and promise only you my heart.” He released my hand.
“Obliged, Carson. But the books are the sanctuary for my heart. And like you, I want to decide my own marriage should I ever find someone. I’ll carry the books up to Martha Hannah and the babies. Right up to your cabin window, same as Mama did.”
His eyes were understanding, and he tipped his hat and followed the men out of the yard.
I stayed outside till dusk arrived, filling the skies with an endless blackened blue, and the loneliness and worries chased me back inside.
Nineteen
Freedom. The word rattled my thoughts. I was relieved there might be a chance of getting it without marrying. Yet, I puzzled over the law, why it was so unfair and cruel, and was disgusted by the thought that Kentucky men would send their young to a children’s prison if they couldn’t be married off as a child bride.
I hoped I’d made the right decision about Carson and that it wouldn’t hurt our friendship. He had said like ol’ times, so maybe he meant it and we could get back to those times of just friendship.
From a shelf above the woodstove, I pulled down Mama’s old courting candle my grandpa had used during her courtship. I played with the iron-forged rattail, moving the taper up and down. This made me wonder how many times Grandpa Elijah had set the timekeeper for a lengthy visit from the expected courter and how many times Mama had cheated by lowering it to chase off any unfavorable suitors she thought might be coming. Mama had said she’d thrown it out in the yard when Papa came calling, but he’d plucked it up to save for me. I couldn’t help thinking about how my papa would’ve set the candle for Carson, and I dared compare it to Francis, worried why fathers around these parts still did this to their daughters. Studied on why men decided it all.
Turning it around, I tapped the spiral iron taper, reflecting on the conversations that must’ve swirled over and around it. Though Mama’d said she chosen Papa of her own accord, how difficult it must have been having your father determine your lifelong happiness or misery. I walked over to the trunk by the bed, opened it, and buried the courting candle underneath a stack of quilts.
I took a collection of poems off our bookcase and warmed as I read the inscription to Mama from Papa on their wedding day, fondly remembering their devotion to each other and their deep love for the written word. I traced the words to the Yeats poem “An Isle in the Water” that Papa had written along with his salutation: For my dear bride and book woman, Cussy Mary Lovett, October 20, 1936.
I was grateful to Carson, but even more appreciative for the librarian work. A job and money—and the books—meant I could at least survive, and do it on my own. Surely Mr. Morgan would find a way.
Flopping down onto the kitchen chair, I peered down at the list of patrons Miss Foster had given me. After studying it, I grew excited and began to work on a schedule for my route.
Monday would be the best day to visit the stone school and three other patrons nearby, Oliver Baker the beekeeper, granny woman Emma McCain, and homebound Mr. Prine. On Tuesday, I’d go to the outpost and pick up the reading material and shelve the older loans. Wednesday, I would drop off loans to the Flynns, Evans, and Cecils, then add Devil John and Pearl as my last stops.