Ink and Shadows

The next morning, the light bored holes through Nora’s closed eyelids. Her tongue felt like a cotton ball and the hot needle pain inside her head throbbed like a thousand drums. No amount of water could quench her thirst, and her stomach roiled at the thought of food.

Coffee didn’t seem like a good idea either, so Nora dropped a teabag into a mug and filled the electric kettle. Moving slowly, she went outside to get the paper. She waited on the deck with the door open and her eyes closed, until the kettle’s whistle stopped shrieking.

When all was quiet, she went back inside and arranged the paper, her mug of tea, and three ibuprofen tablets on the kitchen table. Next, she reached for her phone.

She had no calls or texts from Jed. He was hours and miles away. He was scared and alone. But he wouldn’t turn to Nora for support anymore.

Nora sat at the table, cradling her mug, and cried.

After a time, the tea and the ibuprofen worked their magic. The sharp stabs in her head became a dull ache. Her queasiness disappeared, so she ate two slices of toast with raspberry jam. The flavor brought back one of her first memories of Jed.

Nora remembered how much she’d wanted to kiss him that summer day. She remembered how the sun had painted gold into his hair and how she’d watched him pull the raspberries off the branches. His fingers had been deft and gentle. She’d imagined them touching her. Moving over the curve of her cheek and down the slope of her neck.

Thinking of this day, and of many others, Nora decided that she wasn’t going to let Jed walk away simply because she hadn’t agreed to his request. She dialed his number and left a message describing that memory of berry picking. She hoped it would inspire him to reach out to her. If not, she would keep calling. She would keep reminding him that they had a good thing going.

Setting the phone aside, Nora pulled the paper out of its plastic sleeve and flattened it.

She scanned the national news, her hand poised to turn the first page, when she saw the headline below the fold. It read ALLERGIC REACTION PROVES FATAL FOR LOCAL WOMAN. Brenna Leopold’s name appeared in the opening line.

“What?” Nora cried.

Her eyes raced over the words. The date of the tragic incident. A quote from the ME regarding evidence of anaphylaxis and a sudden drop of blood pressure. The presence of a rash resembling eczema. The need to consult with colleagues before establishing the “alpha-gal” diagnosis and the ruling of accidental death. How Bren and her mother, Celeste, were newcomers to Miracle Springs. How Celeste could not be reached for comment. Medical records from Washington County indicated that the late Ms. Leopold was diagnosed with the unusual condition two years ago.

“She may have accidentally eaten red meat at the farm-to-table festival,” Deputy Fuentes had told the reporter. “There could have been a mix-up with her order. It’s hard to say exactly what happened. Our thoughts and prayers are with the young lady’s mother during this difficult time.”

The article’s final line stated that Bren would be laid to rest in Woodland Cemetery. The date was not included, nor were details regarding a service or donations.

“Accidental?” Nora spluttered.

She grabbed her phone. She needed McCabe to explain how Bren’s death could possibly be a fatal case of food poisoning in light of the book page and the break-in at her house.

When he didn’t answer, Nora hung up without leaving a message. Pushing the paper away, she ran a search for Alpha-gal on her laptop.

Thanks to a concise description provided by the Center for Disease Control, Nora learned that alpha-gal was a relatively new food allergy caused by a tick bite. She was examining an image of the Lone Star tick when her phone rang.

“Did you see the paper?” June asked in a shrill voice.

“Just now. I’m trying to wrap my head around this alpha-gal thing.”

Following a pause and an unintelligible murmur, June said, “You’re on speaker. I stopped by the Pink Lady for breakfast and ran into Estella. We’re standing in the alley, so tell us what you know, because this accidental death headline doesn’t feel right.”

“I don’t buy it either, but here’s what I do know. Alpha-gal is a sugar molecule found in most mammals. An alpha-gal allergy means that you’re allergic to these sugar molecules. If you eat meat or are exposed to products made from mammals who carry this sugar molecule, you’ll have a bad reaction.”

“So if I have alpha-gal and I eat fried chicken, I could die?” Estella asked.

Nora consulted the chart on her screen. “Fish and birds are safe. They’re not mammals, so they don’t have the sugar molecule. It’s found in red meat like beef, pork, and lamb.”

June said, “I’ve never heard of this thing. Was Bren born with it?”

“Many scientists believe that it starts with a bite from the Lone Star tick,” answered Nora. “I was looking at an image of the nasty bug when you called. Lone Star ticks are found throughout the Southeast. They have white, star-shaped spots on their backs, and their bites are painless. This is really bad because most people don’t even know that they’ve been bitten. The ticks carry alpha-gal in their saliva.”

Estella made a noise to convey her disgust. “I will never understand why God made ticks or mosquitos. Never.”

“The article says that Bren was diagnosed in Washington County. The same county as Still Waters, right?” asked June.

“Yep. Miles and miles of woods. Lots of trees mean lots of white-tailed deer. Lots of tick carriers. And the more a person with this condition is bitten by these ticks, the worse the allergy gets.”

“Bren wasn’t a little kid,” Estella said. “She knew she had this allergy. She would have been insanely careful about everything she put into her mouth.”

Nora thought so too. “That’s why I think this ruling is wrong. Someone must have given her food or a product made with red meat. The same person who ransacked her rental house.”

“But wouldn’t someone notice if her face turned bright red or her lips blew up like a balloon?” June asked. “A thousand people were milling around. If Bren ate something bad at that festival, why didn’t anyone notice her suffering?”

“Let me check the FAQ section,” said Nora. “Okay, this is how a typical food allergy works. I’m allergic to shellfish, and I eat a big bite of lobster tail. I’m going to have a reaction before I can pull off my bib. But alpha-gal doesn’t work like that. There’s a delayed reaction time of up to six hours.”

There was silence on the other end as June and Estella processed this information.

“So if someone tricked Bren into eating a bite of hamburger at seven, she might not have died until after midnight?” Estella mused aloud. “Wouldn’t she know the difference? Between a black bean and beef burger, for example? I could tell. It’s not just the flavor. It’s the texture. She would have known something was off.”

Could strong spices or especially salty condiments, combined with a beer or two, have muddled Bren’s palate? Nora didn’t think so.

“I agree with you, Estella. But right now, I have to go.” Nora closed her laptop and stood up. “I left a message for McCabe. When I hear back from him, I’ll let you know.”

“Wait!” June cried before Nora could hang up. “Don’t worry about lodge guests avoiding Miracle Books anymore. I took care of that forked-tongue concierge.”

Nora went limp in relief. “I really needed some good news. Thank you, June. I hope you don’t pay a price for getting involved.”

“If I do, it won’t be at work because that concierge was told not to report for today’s shift. Or any other shift.” June sounded smug. “You won’t be surprised to hear that she runs with Connie’s pack.”

Estella said, “Maybe today’s paper will put an end to their witch hunt. Talk to you later.”

Nora hung up and got ready for work. As she unlocked Miracle Books, she wondered if Bobbie was already at the station, arguing her case in front of Sheriff McCabe.

Would he give her the book page now that Bren’s death had been ruled an accident? He had no reason to hold on to it. It wasn’t evidence in a murder investigation. It was just a piece of paper that someone had put under Nora’s doormat the night Bren had died.

Sheldon sent a text saying that he’d had a rough night and would be coming in late, so Nora put thoughts of Bobbie aside and hurried to finish the opening tasks.

“Why didn’t Celeste say something about Bren’s allergy?” Nora muttered as she brewed coffee. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the machine. “Maybe she didn’t know.”

It was possible. Bren had been diagnosed two years ago. She’d been eighteen. A legal adult. Had she gotten sick and gone to the hospital without her mother’s knowledge? Whatever the details, Bren’s diagnosis would have resulted in an abrupt dietary change. But would anyone be surprised when a young woman living in a secluded community suddenly announced that she was giving up red meat? Nora doubted it.

What Nora kept thinking about was how Bren had dropped to the sidewalk the Friday night before her death. She’d been sick to her stomach. Violently sick. Had something triggered her allergy? Would Celeste remember what her daughter had eaten that day?

I’ll have to ask her.

Sheldon arrived an hour late, looking as haggard as Nora. Though pain had plagued him throughout the night, staying in bed this morning had given him the boost he needed to make it through the workday. He explained this to Nora as he put the box of book pockets on the counter and opened the lid. While he washed his hands, the scent of warm, buttery dough drifted through the store, luring customers back to the ticket agent’s office.

Seeing their approach, Sheldon waved at Nora. “Tell me quick. Why are you and June so worked up because the powers-that-be are calling Bren’s death an accident? Isn’t that an easier thing for a mother to accept than a suspicious death or a murder ? What’s done is done. Can’t you let Celeste bury her girl and try to move forward?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Nora.

“I thought you understood suffering. I guess I was wrong,” said Sheldon. Before Nora could reply, he turned away to serve his first customer.

Customers needed Nora’s help too, so she wasn’t able to explain herself until much later. She and Sheldon were in the YA section, restocking titles. After shelving books for several minutes, Nora broke the silence.

“Do you think Voltaire understood suffering?” she asked.

Sheldon looked wary. “He could hardly be called a champion of the poor, downtrodden, and unjustly persecuted if he didn’t.”

“‘To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only truth.’ Those are his words.” Nora passed Sheldon two Leigh Bardugo books. “I believe that too. I respect Celeste. I feel terrible for her. But someone owes Bren the truth.”

Sheldon arched a brow. “And why should that someone be you?”

“That’s a fair question,” Nora said, moving toward the Fantasy section. “I guess it’s because she died near my house. Or because I found her. I offered her a place to go if she needed one, and I think she needed one.”

“And you ended up with a book page full of scribbles.”

Nora tried to shove a second copy of Anansi Boys into the Neil Gaiman row, but it wouldn’t fit. After sliding Stardust into the space, she reached for another book and grabbed two by accident. They both slid out of her grasp and fell to the floor.

Before Nora could bend down to retrieve them, Bobbie scooped them up. She examined the covers, nodded in approval, and shelved them.

“Thanks,” said Nora. “But I’m supposed to be helping you, not the other way around.”

“I’m easy. I want everything.” Bobbie laughed. “I visit bookstores like other people visit major league baseball stadiums. I don’t take selfies. I take pictures of book covers. When I go on vacation, I plan my itinerary around book settings.”

Sheldon beamed at her. “Aren’t you a breath of fresh air?”

Bobbie and Sheldon would probably find loads to talk about if Nora didn’t intervene, so she asked Bobbie if she’d like to see the display table highlighting all things Scotland.

Taking the hint, Bobbie followed Nora to the front.

“I would not time-travel to eighteenth-century Scotland,” Bobbie said, tapping a copy of Outlander. “Jamie Fraser might be the sexiest man in the world, but I’d trade him for indoor plumbing and Chinese takeout in a New York minute.”

Nora laughed. “I’m with you on the indoor plumbing, but I’d replace Chinese food with coffee. Jamie could never make it how I like it. Not his fault. He wouldn’t have access to the right ingredients.”

Bobbie pointed at the stack of books on the checkout counter. “My reading material for the plane.”

Bobbie’s stack contained twelve books, all of which had been pulled from the shelf labeled STAFF PICKS–NORA.

Nora stared at the cover of Ask Again, Yes, because if she met Bobbie’s eyes at this moment, she would probably cry. When she’d mastered her emotions, she asked, “Are you going to New York by way of Australia?”

“I have two nightstands. One has my clock, water glass, and current read. The other, which used to be Stan’s, has my book skyscrapers. I call it TBR City.” Bobbie laid a hand on the top of the stack. “I sleep better when stories are guarding my dreams.”

Nora wanted to give Bobbie the books as a gift, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m just another customer. You’re going to swipe my credit card, bag my books, and wish me a nice day. After that, I’ll hop into my rental car and drive to that terrifyingly tiny airport in Asheville. By the time you’re ready to close for the day, I’ll have started evaluating that book page.”

“Fine. But there’s something I want you to have that isn’t a book. Let me grab it.”

“Who is that interesting creature?” Sheldon asked when Nora reappeared in the back of the store.

“The name on her credit card says Roberta Rabinowitz, but she introduced herself as Bobbie.”

Having finished with YA, Sheldon had pushed the book cart into the children’s section. “I wonder if that’s a childhood nickname.”

“I asked her the same thing,” Nora lied, knowing Sheldon would appreciate the explanation. “Apparently, she gave herself the nickname when she was applying for her first job. Having a man’s name got her foot in the door. All she needed was that opening, and before anyone knew it, she was inside.”

Sheldon laughed in delight.

“Bobbie thinks that everyone should experience the benefits of a gender-neutral nickname.”

“So you and I could be Pat and Morgan. Or Taylor and Blake,” said Sheldon. “That Bobbie is fun. I hope she comes back.”

Turning away before he could see the look in her eyes, Nora said, “Me too.”

Bobbie was standing by the bookmark spinner when Nora approached.

Feeling a little shy, she held out a string of beads and said, “This is a mala necklace. It’s made of red tiger eye beads, which are supposed to provide protection. I assume you don’t travel with a prayer shawl, but I wanted some kind of positive force to stand between you and that book page. Especially if it’s from a grimoire.” Nora put the necklace over Bobbie’s head. “May this bless you and keep you.”

Bobbie rubbed the beads between her thumb and forefinger. “Eye of the tiger. No one’s ever given me a more suitable piece of jewelry. Thank you.”

The two women clasped hands until the door opened, and several customers wandered inside. At that moment, Nora took her place behind the checkout counter and rang up Bobbie’s books. As she handed the bag to her old friend, more customers entered the shop. They all carried turquoise totes, signaling the onset of the midmorning rush.

Bobbie smiled at Nora. “Everything about this shop is so you. From the creaky floors to the trains rumbling by out back. I love that this corner of heaven exists, and I love that it belongs to you. This is the happy ending you deserve. And you wrote it for yourself. I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes were wet as she laid a business card on the counter. “I could call you here to update you on the book page, but I’m not going to. You have to call me.”

Nora stared at the card, remembering a time when she knew all of Bobbie’s numbers by heart.

“I won’t tell a soul about you,” Bobbie whispered. “I swear by The Red Pony.”

Bobbie had bought a signed copy of The Red Pony after landing her first job working as a full-time librarian. She’d always wanted to start her personal library by acquiring a signed Steinbeck novel, and that edition of The Red Pony had been sacred to her ever since. If she swore by that book, she would keep her word, come hell or high water.

Nora grabbed Bobbie’s wrist. “Be safe.”

“Better a thousand times careful than once dead.” Bobbie winked, squeezed Nora’s hand, and left the shop as another group of lodge guests entered.

Because one of the men immediately asked for Nora’s help finding a book on regional fishing holes, she didn’t have time to process how she felt about Bobbie’s departure. She had to lock her emotions away until later and focus on her customer’s needs.

“I know you’re already helping the gentleman, but I’d like a trail guide if it’s in the same area,” a woman said as she followed Nora and the fisherman through the stacks. “Something for beginners. I’d love to tell my kids that I hiked the Appalachian Trail, even if I only walked it for a little bit.”

“Any bit counts,” Nora said. “There’s a wonderful outdoor shop on the other side of town too. After you’ve finished your hike, you can buy a T-shirt there.”

The woman was thrilled. “Oh, good. I’m going to buy that shirt, put it on, and send my son a picture. He didn’t believe me when I said that I was going to lose a hundred pounds. It took me a whole year, and it was the hardest thing I ever did, but I did it.”

The man looking for the fishing book gave the woman a high-five. “Go you! Hitting goals and hiking the big trails. I think my kids would be happier if I’d just move into a retirement center and act my age. But I’m not there yet. I want to keep having adventures. I’ll get to shuffleboard and bingo soon enough. What’s the rush?”

After Nora showed the man several fishing books and found the perfect beginner’s hiking guide for the woman, she overheard the fisherman ask the woman if he could buy her a coffee. An hour later, they were still sitting in the readers’ circle.

“I think we’re witnessing a budding romance,” Sheldon whispered to Nora as he headed to the stockroom to eat his lunch and read another riveting chapter or two from the latest Jack Reacher thriller.

“I hope so,” Nora said. She waited until Sheldon was out of sight before checking her phone. This was the third time she’d looked to see if Jed had tried to reach her, but he hadn’t. Neither had Sheriff McCabe.

As she ate a turkey and cheese sandwich at the checkout counter, Nora thought about her female friends. They understood that relationships involved plenty of give-and-take. But the men in her life—Jed and Grant—showed up at her home or business when it suited their schedules. Their needs always seemed to supersede her own. At least, that’s how it felt to Nora.

And though she found it somewhat therapeutic to be irritated at Jed and Grant, she also knew that her judgment was probably clouded by the events of the past few days. Seeing Bobbie after so many years had dredged up memories and emotions that Nora had worked very hard to bury.

As she popped red grapes into her mouth, Nora remembered how lovely last night’s Cabernet had tasted. She also remembered how lovely it had felt to be relaxed and mellow.

That was a onetime thing.

She had to repeat this mantra several times that day, especially after bumping into McCabe outside of Soothe on her way back from the bank.

“Are you avoiding me?” Nora demanded.

“Hello, to you too,” he replied. “And no, I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been busy. In a minute, I’ll be busy escorting Ms. Leopold to Woodland Cemetery.”

Nora paled. “Oh, Lord. I didn’t realize that everything had been arranged so quickly.”

“There wasn’t much to arrange. The funeral parlor director came here so that Ms. Leopold wouldn’t have to close the shop. It was all pretty straightforward.”

“Are you leaving now? I could ask Celeste if she’d like me to watch the store or come with her to the cemetery. She shouldn’t have to go through this without a friend.”

McCabe shot a glance over his shoulder before saying, “I don’t think she’ll take you up on either offer. She’s closing the shop now, and she made it clear that she doesn’t want company at the graveside. I’m driving her to the cemetery and will wait in the car until she’s ready to leave.”

Nora studied McCabe’s face. “Are you escorting her or guarding her?” Receiving no answer, she went on, “Look, I understand the logic behind the ruling. But what about Bren’s trashed house? Or the book page under my mat? What about Lazarus Harper? Where is he?”

“He hasn’t been seen in Pine Hollow for at least ten days,” said McCabe. “This is why I keep offering you a job. You’re an ace researcher.”

“It didn’t take much digging to figure out why Harper might bear a grudge against Celeste.” Nora touched the statue of Juliana, finding comfort in the marble woman’s solidity. “Does he have any tattoos?”

McCabe shook his head. “I don’t know. I was hoping to get that information from Mr. Harper’s ex-girlfriend, but she isn’t a fan of the police. She told me, using words I won’t repeat to a lady, not to call her again. She’s a dog breeder, so Deputy Wiggins volunteered to give her a call. Wiggins can talk dogs all day long. We’ll see how it goes.”

At that moment, Celeste stepped outside, pulling the shop door closed behind her. She made sure it was locked before quietly greeting Nora and the sheriff.

“I can keep the store open if you’d like,” said Nora.

“I don’t think a few hours will matter.” Celeste gave her a wan smile. “You don’t need to help in the store anymore. None of you do. I’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Nora enveloped Celeste’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

Celeste lowered her head, and Nora released her hands and stepped away.

McCabe offered his arm to Celeste. As she moved to take it, she stumbled. McCabe was at her side in an instant. He put an arm around her waist and waited until she was steady on her feet.

“I’ve got you, ma’am,” he said. “I won’t let go.”

When Celeste leaned her head against his shoulder, he murmured gentle words to her, and slowly, he led her to his car.

Nora’s heart swelled with affection for Grant McCabe. He was a good man.

With Sheldon’s green lollipop and her deposit receipt tucked safely in her pocket, Nora continued walking to Miracle Books. She didn’t notice the Halloween decorations in the shop windows or see the autumn leaf garden flags snapping in the afternoon breeze. She was so absorbed in thoughts of a solitary figure standing next to a fresh grave that she didn’t hear someone calling her name.

At the end of the block, a hand fell on her shoulder and Nora jumped.

“Sorry!” a woman panted. “I was calling you, but you wouldn’t turn around. I saw you talking to the lady who lost her daughter. Can you give this to her for me?”

She held out a casserole dish.

Suddenly, Nora recognized the woman. She’d been with Connie Knapp the day Connie had asked Nora to take down her window display.

“You’re Dominique, right? You and my friend, June, are in the same knitters’ group.”

Dominique’s cheeks turned red and she stared at the dish in her hands. “Yes. June’s a good woman.”

Which is exactly how June had described Dominique. And because of that, Nora decided to be civil to this woman.

“My friends and I are having dinner with Celeste tomorrow,” Nora said, accepting the dish. “Will this keep until then?”

Dominique nodded. “Oh, sure. It’s just cheese enchiladas. Nothing fancy.”

“I bet they’re delicious,” Nora said. “What could be better than melted cheese?”

A smile lit up Dominique’s face. “They’re my kids’ favorite. It’s what I make when they’ve had a crummy day.” Her smile vanished, and she pressed her hands to her heart. “I read about Celeste’s daughter in the paper. It’s so sad. I can’t even imagine how much she must be hurting right now. I wish . . .”

Seeing that Dominique was too overcome to continue, Nora said, “You’re right. It’s terrible and she’s really hurting. And since Celeste is on her own now, I hope our community shows its true colors by supporting her. Thank you for your kindness, Dominique. This will mean so much to her.”

Nora was about to walk away when Dominique cried, “Wait!”

Seeing the pained expression on the other woman’s face, Nora asked, “Are you okay?”

“No. I’ve been a fool,” she said. “I can see that now, and I want to warn you. Connie’s group plans to protest outside your store tomorrow morning. They want all the people in town and all the people stopping here before they go to the Highland Games to see the protest. If it goes well, the group will protest the other stores too. They have to stay on the sidewalk though. That’s what the law says.”

Somehow, Nora managed to control her fury long enough to thank Dominique. With a firm grip on the casserole dish, she hurried back to the bookshop.

When she stormed into the ticket agent’s office, Sheldon put his hands on his hips and asked, “Where’s the fire?”

Nora dropped the casserole dish on the counter and said, “Guess what? The Women of Lasting Values Society will be staging a peaceful and public protest on our sidewalk tomorrow. We need to brew an antidote for their poison. Fast.”

“Peacefully and publicly?”

Glancing out the ticket agent’s window, Nora remembered Bobbie referring to Miracle Books as a corner of heaven. Dozens of people had used similar terms to describe the bookshop. They called it a sanctuary. A refuge. A haven.

Nora’s anger faded and she smiled. “Tomorrow, my friend, we shall peacefully and publicly delight, inspire, and amaze anyone who comes to our corner of heaven.”

“Why are you so calm?” Sheldon demanded. Pacing around in small circles, he was anything but calm. “The lynch mob has formed. The pitchforks have been sharpened. Aren’t you terrified of losing this fight?”

Encompassing the shop in a sweeping gesture, Nora said, “No. And you shouldn’t be, either. Look around. We have books as our champions. We’ve already won.”