Low Country Hero Page 7

  She also needed to do something for herself, and the library just might be the place to do it.

  Being around Sean had been weird. The way he’d studied her, as if he liked what he saw, had made her feel way too warm inside, and that feeling had disconcerted her. And maybe she was wrong about what his appraisal had meant.

  Was he going to report her to his police officer brother, get her car traced somehow? Do something that could broadcast their whereabouts to Beau?

  And there had been that moment when she’d looked back at him, right in the eyes, and felt a connection that warmed her whole body.

  Was she attracted to the big man?

  Not that she’d do anything about it. Relationships were not for her. Maybe, one day, when she’d done a bunch of therapy and the girls were grown up, but not anytime this decade.

  That little burst of attraction, or interest, or whatever it was, had made her uncomfortable enough that she’d decided to look for other jobs in the area.

  She’d looked online a little, hindered by the rustic resort’s spotty cell reception, and she’d discovered what she’d known back in Montana: she was basically qualified for nothing except the type of telemarketing she’d done, and disliked, since the girls had been born.

  So, she had her own goal at the library today, if she was able to get the girls settled.

  As she approached the little town, she glanced up in the rearview mirror and saw that the girls had fallen asleep in the back seat. No surprise; they’d always been car sleepers. She slowed down and took the long way to the library, observing the streets of the little town.

  This took her back, too. Where most places changed and modernized over the years, Safe Haven hadn’t really. Which meant that she’d walked these streets as a little girl, most likely. Her dim memories of that vacation didn’t include much except several trips to an ice-cream store.

  What she hadn’t remembered was how pretty the streets were, overarched with live oaks. Two-story houses with big wraparound porches mingled with smaller, cottage-type homes. It could’ve been a small-Southern-town movie set, except for the touches of realism: a raggedy-clothed man with a grizzled beard, riding an old bike, his fishing poles lashed across the back. A discordant pink-and-purple house, its yard strewn with kids’ toys and lawn ornaments. The faint sulfur smell of the paper mill drifting in on the warm breeze.

  It was a real place, not a rich-and-famous beach community, and she liked it the better for that.

  She saw the library up ahead. “Wake up, sleepyheads,” she said quietly as she turned in and parked the car.

  She got out and opened the back door. Hayley climbed out, rubbing her eyes.

  Hope stayed inside, burying her face in her frog lovey.

  “Come on, honey,” she said, undoing Hope’s seat buckle. “Let’s go see the books!”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Come on,” Hayley said. She took a few steps toward the library.

  “Parking lot,” Anna reminded her. “Stay close.”

  “Come on,” Hayley said again. “It’s not gonna be scary.”

  “We’re just trying it to see if you like it,” Anna reminded Hope. “Get a move on, now. Out you come.” She gave Hope’s arm a little tug and the child climbed reluctantly out.

  Inside, before they could ask for directions, they saw another mother and daughter headed for the stairwell. Following them, Anna saw the AFTER-SCHOOL PROGRAM, ELEMENTARY sign.

  When they reached the children’s area, Hayley practically leaped for joy and Anna’s heart leaped, too. Colorful carpet squares on the floor, a table with craft supplies along one wall, and rows and rows of books.

  There were seven or eight other kids there, including a couple of girls near the twins’ age. The noise level was about what you’d expect from kids, which was nice—it meant those who ran the program had realistic expectations. They weren’t trying to keep the little ones quiet because they were in a library.

  Not that being loud was a problem for Hayley and Hope.

  Miss Vi, the woman they’d met in the grocery store on that first morning, came over. She was an indeterminate age, straight-backed and gray-haired. She smiled at the twins and gestured toward the carpet squares.

  “We start with a story time, as soon as Miss Reba gets here. You may each pick out a book to look at while you wait, and quiet talking only, please.”

  The twins nodded, big eyed, and then hurried over to a shelf of children’s books.

  Miss Vi approached Anna. “I’m glad you decided to come,” she said, her voice warm.

  “They need a kids’ program, especially since I have to work all day,” she said, feeling apologetic. “I... Is there a cost?”

  “Never.” Miss Vi smiled at her. “That’s the beauty of libraries, my friend.”

  “My girls don’t talk much,” Anna said, twisting her hands as she looked from Miss Vi to the girls and back again. “At all. They don’t talk at all, to strangers. But they’re real smart. They’ll take everything in.”

  “They seem to be doing all right.” Miss Vi waved a hand toward them. They stood listening to a little girl who was enthusiastically explaining something to them. “Little Mindy doesn’t ever stop talking, so she’ll welcome them as an audience, as long as they put up with her. Excuse me,” she added, and bustled across the room to stop a pair of boys from climbing on the shelves.

  Anna wandered around the children’s room, wanting to keep an eye on the twins for a few minutes. She was the only parent there, and she didn’t want to make them feel bad by babying them, so she stayed in the background, strolling the perimeter of the room.

  A book propped open on a shelf made her pause.

  Put Me in the Zoo.

  Her throat caught. How did she know that book?

  Hands shaking, she took it off the shelf, the colorful, spotted creature on the cover whooshing her back to the past.

  She paged through it and suddenly she was a little kid on her mom’s lap, her mom who had smelled like flowers, counting the dots and laughing together.

  She’d been so young when her mom died that she didn’t have many clear memories. But this was a warm and vivid one. Made her feel more normal, made her remember she’d had a mom who loved her, even if for too short a time.

  After making sure Hope and Hayley were engrossed by the storyteller, Anna slipped down the stairs to the adult section. It didn’t take long to find the big display of books she was seeking.

  She pulled out three thick volumes and carried them up the stairs, finding a desk with an ancient-looking desktop computer in the back of the children’s section, just out of sight of the kids’ program. She could study the books while still keeping an ear open for any upset from the twins.

  She sat down and opened one of the books, but her mind drifted to the place she’d tried to keep it from all day.

  Who had painted things on her cabin? Who had slashed her tires?

  Her friend back in Montana had told her that Beau’s car was in front of his apartment, but had he left it there and flown here? He wasn’t much for airplanes. Anna shouldn’t talk—she’d never been on one herself, but for her, it was the lack of opportunity. For Beau, it was an unwillingness to give up control. He had to be the driver.

  And that wasn’t the only thing he wanted to control. She’d never gotten her high school diploma because Beau had strongly encouraged her to drop out. He hadn’t liked her being around all those other boys. He’d promised to take care of her, insisted she come live with him, even married her in what she now knew was a fraudulent ceremony.

  “You know, we have more comfortable seating downstairs in the adult section.”

  Miss Vi’s voice jolted Anna and she looked up. How had the woman approached without Anna hearing a thing? She had to be more observant. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I like to keep an eye
on the girls.”

  “Um-hmmm,” Miss Vi said in a neutral voice.

  The way the older woman just stood there, looking at her, made Anna self-conscious. No other parents were hiding out watching their kids.

  But no other parents were in her situation, either.

  “You know,” the older woman said, “there’s a GED class that meets here, twice a week.”

  Only then did Anna realize that Miss Vi was looking at the books she’d selected. She turned the top one over to cover the title, heat rushing into her face. “No, no, thanks. It’s okay.” Man, was Miss Vi nosy or what?

  The librarian nodded toward the thick books. “That’s a lot of material to get through on your own.”

  I’m uneducated, not stupid. “I’m more of a do-it-yourself type,” Anna said, hearing the stiffness in her own voice. It was just so ridiculous of her never to have finished high school. Now, that had been stupid of her.

  “I understand. I’ve got that independent gene myself.” Miss Vi smiled at her. “But there’s also something to be said for asking for help.” She turned and disappeared, her steps soundless in black orthopedic shoes.

  Anna watched her go, and then, maybe to defy the woman’s doubts, she started looking into the first thick GED guide.

  In the background, she heard the children singing a song, something about letters and numbers. The surrounding shelves held mostly old books, and their musty smell made her strangely happy.

  From the guides, she learned that there was a website giving the latest information on GED exams. She fired up the old desktop computer to look up the nearest one. Hmm, there was a test date next month, in a nearby town she vaguely remembered passing on the way to the Sea Pine Cottages. Could she do it? How hard would it be?

  She dug into the review guide with new purpose, and sounds of the children, playing freely now, blurred into cheerful background noise.

  Sometime later, with the fine-tuned radar of a mother, she heard a young boy’s voice raised to a taunt. “You can’t talk. What are y’all, babies?”

  She thrust the book away and stood. Nobody was going to make fun of her girls. She headed for the children, who all seemed to be putting things away and collecting their belongings.

  Miss Vi appeared in her path, and when Anna tried to pass her, she didn’t step aside.

  “My girls are being teased.” Anna stood on her tiptoes, looking over the older woman’s shoulder, trying to see Hope and Hayley.

  “I noticed.” The librarian tilted her head to one side, studying Anna. “They seemed to be handling it, though. Children often do better working things out for themselves.”

  Anna bit back a sharp retort out of respect for the woman’s age and apparent status here at the library. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but—”

  “But you’re overprotective.” She patted Anna’s arm. “Ah, well, some have reason to be.”

  Way too nosy. And wasn’t it amazing how many people were experts on other people’s child-rearing skills? “Excuse me,” she said, and sidled past the woman.

  Anna made her way over to the twins, who didn’t seem at all upset with the mild teasing they’d faced. Hope tugged at her arm and held out a lopsided flower made of pipe cleaners. Hayley pushed in front and held up hers, too, and Anna took them both and admired them. Then both girls led her to a display of books about flowers and plants, and again Anna saw one she remembered: The Carrot Seed.

  Her father had never taken her to the library, so this must be another book her mom had read to her.

  Anna had always loved to read. She’d gone through the few stories she owned as a child over and over again, had always checked out the maximum number from school on library days. During her marriage, she’d stocked up during rare trips to the used-book store, and occasionally, she’d even spent some grocery money on brand-new novels.

  Romances and mysteries. She liked the ones where everything turned out right in the end.

  It had never occurred to her to wonder where her reading habit had gotten started, but seeing these old children’s books made her realize: it was from her mother.

  Her mom would have loved reading to the girls. Anna bit her lip and looked upward, toward the heaven where her loving mother surely resided. I’ll make sure they have plenty of books.

  So when Hope held up a copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, her eyes pleading, Anna made a quick decision. “Let me find out if we can get a library card. Maybe we can borrow a couple.”

  Ten minutes later, they left the library, each twin clutching three picture books.

  They sat on the library’s stone steps to examine their loot. In between exclaiming over the books, Anna breathed in the warm, salt-scented air. The garden area beside the library sported a stone fountain, and the sound of its waters soothed Anna’s weary heart.

  Just as she stood, ready to encourage the girls to get going, there was a shout from the downtown side of the block. A tiny woman seemed to be in a shoving match with a much-larger man, and their angry shouts included language that made Anna want to cover her girls’ ears.

  Both girls shrank behind her, clutching her legs. Anna’s own heart pounded with a mix of anger and remembered fear. She looked around, hoping someone could help the woman, because she didn’t dare take the twins any closer. They were already upset. Hope was gasping, her face buried in the side of Anna’s long shorts, shoulders shaking. Even Hayley was pressed close, uncharacteristically quiet.

  She’d give anything if she could erase what they’d seen back home. But she couldn’t. Anna clamped her jaw. She’d make sure nothing like that ever happened in their little family again.

  Something about the man looked familiar. Anna squinted to see.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” The voice beside her belonged to Yasmin, the woman from the shelter.

  “It’s that guy you were talking about, Tony. He’s beating up on a woman. Why don’t you do something?” Anna heard the shrillness in her own voice as both girls clutched her tighter, obviously upset by their mother’s display of emotion. She knelt and put an arm around each girl. “Shhh. We’re safe.”

  “I’m not sure he’s the one doing the beating up.” Yasmin crossed her arms and nodded toward the couple.

  Anna looked. The man and woman stood a few yards apart now, still yelling. Then the tiny woman ran at the man and head butted him in the gut, knocking him to the ground.

  Anna glanced up at Yasmin, eyebrows raised. “Wow.”

  They all watched as the woman stalked down the street toward them, her occasional stumbles suggesting that she’d been drinking.

  “What’re you looking at?” she burst out as she passed their small group. She nearly tripped, caught herself on the railing that skirted the library’s little lawn and glowered.

  The girls outright hid behind Anna. Now they were both crying.

  “Get on home, Brandi,” Yasmin said. “You need to chill.”

  “I wish I could.” The woman took a quick glance down the sidewalk. Anna did, too, and saw that Tony was talking to another man, their angry voices audible, though not their words.

  Anna did a double take when she saw that the man was Sean.

  Why should that be a surprise? Men stuck together.

  “You! Hey, you, new girl. Keep your hands off Tony.” The woman who’d shoved Tony stood with hands on hips now, glaring at Anna. “I saw you looking at him. He’s mine.”

  Anna straightened and glared right back. “Believe me, lady, men are the last thing I have an interest in.” She glanced at Yasmin, then back to the woman on the street. “I’m better off on my own.”

  But she was all too aware that she wasn’t on her own; she was starting work with Sean the next morning.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sean marched out of his cabin and batted away a hunk of Spanish moss that had
blown down onto the railing beside his door.

  It was Anna’s official start day and he was pretty sure he was making a big mistake. He should have stuck with family. Not an outsider with secrets.

  He stood a minute, looked at the oaks making a tunnel back toward the bayou, shadowy even in the early morning light. As always, the place soothed him and he felt his breathing calm, his heart rate slow to bayou pace.

  Anna’s cabin door opened and she came out, her twins close beside her. She knelt beside the shy one, spoke quietly, gave her a hug, her darker hair merging with the little girl’s blond curls while the other stood, hands on hips, obviously impatient to start the day.

  Once, he’d wanted that for himself: a pretty woman’s love, family to cheer up the morning and remind him that each day held excitement and that life was meaningful.

  But all that wasn’t for him.

  She looked up, saw him and rose gracefully. She took a hand of each girl and they walked toward him. As the girls approached, their chatter ceased.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Like I texted you, I got the go-ahead for you to work on a contract basis. We start now.” He glanced at the girls, who were looking up at him, eyes wide.

  He looked away from their winning cuteness and met Anna’s eyes. “What’s your plan for them?”

  “I have one.” She knelt between them, a hand on each girl’s back. “Remember what we talked about. Mom’s working, so no silly bothering.”

  “But we can come if there’s a ’mergency,” the quiet one said.

  Anna squeezed her shoulders. “Of course. Right away.” She stood and gave them a tiny shove. “Now, go play. But stay where you can see me, and not in any water or jungly stuff.”

  “C’mon!” The more aggressive one grabbed her twin’s hand and they ran for an old playground, a little overgrown, but still featuring a couple of rubber riding horses and an old jungle gym.