© 2008 by
Chris Edson
Peter looked at
his fuel
gauge. He was below a quarter of a tank. He saw an exit sign looming in
the
distance and decided to follow his normal rule of thumb and take it. As
he made
the turn, he found no stations at the crossroads, so continued in a
southerly
direction, hoping to find some small settlement not far from the beaten
path.
He was met with a sign beckoning him onward, “Willowbrook 3 miles”.
He smiled to
himself and cast
a slight glance upward, “Sounds like a peaceful little town. Shall we
see what
we find there?”
Soon he was
passing another
sign, “Willowbrook Population 1,283”.
The road led him
into a
small public square, with a simple park in the center, and parking all
the way
around. He followed the ‘One Way’ sign around and took in the peaceful
setting.
Several shops caught his eye and he pulled into an empty space in front
of one.
The buildings were old brick structures, some of them with false
fronts,
reminding him of days gone by. Others had been modernized and had names
on the
windows of various businesses. Many had canopies over the raised
sidewalk. He
took a step up and began walking along until one sign in particular
struck a chord
in him.
“Barnes’ Book
Store”, stated
the old hand-painted letters on the glass window, which were chipping
from age.
There was something about this shop that halted his step. Then he saw
another
sign, propped carefully on the inside windowsill, “Help Wanted”. He
smiled.
This was, indeed, the place.
This door was
unlike the
others along the square. It had a wooden frame with chipped paint and a
glass
pane in it. He turned the knob and heard a bell jingle announcing his
arrival.
The floors were tile and very old, but spotless. The smell of old books
filled
the air. He could see shelves along every wall and several standing in
aisles,
all brimming with neatly kept books. Most of them looked very used.
“Hello?” He
called gently,
feeling almost as if he had stepped into a library.
“Coming!” A
clear, almost
musical voice called from somewhere in the back of the building. He
heard
shuffling noises, then saw a very small silver-haired lady appear from
behind
the shelves. Her hair was up in a bun, she had glasses, and wore a very
modest
dress with a cardigan over it. He found it hard to judge her age, but
felt
certain she could have been his grandmother. Her face broke into a very
pleasant smile, “Oh, hello! Is there something I can help you with? Are
you
looking for something in particular?”
He put his hand
out to her,
“Hello. I’m Peter Carson. I actually was hoping I could be of service
to you.”
Her brows
furrowed in
confusion, “How so?”
He pointed, “I
noticed the
sign in your window.”
Surprise spread
across her
face, “Oh! Oh my…well, I…” she seemed a bit flustered by his offer.
Clearing
her throat, she gathered herself and let out a slow breath, “You see, I
do need
help around here, but I’m afraid it would not amount to enough to
sustain someone
such as yourself, Sir. It would only be part time and I had hoped for
someone
who could come in after school to help me unpack books and do some of
the
heavier work…”
There was a
slight twinkle
in his hazel eyes, “Oh I assure you, I am quite capable of heavy work,
Mrs. ...
Barnes, is it?”
“Oh I didn’t
mean that…” she
closed her eyes and he saw a flush go to her cheeks. She let out
another
breath, “I’m sorry Mr. Carson. I simply can’t afford to pay more than
minimum
wage and even that puts a strain on my operating expenses.” She glanced
around
wistfully, “It seems that people are not so interested in these old
books as
they once were. The children prefer their video games and television
shows and
computers. If only my…” she stopped and shook her head. “I’m certain a
man such
as yourself will be able to find gainful employment elsewhere.”
He took a step
over to one
of the shelves and pulled off a hardback, “Moby Dick. They don’t write
them
like this anymore, do they, Mrs. Barnes?”
“No,” she shook
her head,
“I’m afraid they don’t. And I find it impossible to bring myself to
sell many
of the books they do write now.”
He nodded,
“Well, Mrs.
Barnes, I must confess that minimum wage would be an increase in my pay
at this
point. When would you like for me to start?”
She blinked at
him in
unbelief, then as if suddenly struck by some previous thought, she
tilted her
head, “Mr. Carson, do you have a place to stay?”
He smiled, “I
feel certain
the Lord will provide me with one.”
Mrs. Barnes’
hand went to
cover her mouth as she let out a small gasp, tears rushing to her eyes.
Peter
gave her a questioning look and she shook her head, then spoke in a
barely
audible voice, “The Lord has sent you in answer to my prayers.”
“Perhaps He has
answered
mine, as well.”
“Please,” she
turned and
started toward the back of the store, “come with me.”
He followed her
through the
bookcases and into a back room, filled with boxes of books and papers.
She
opened a heavy wooden door to reveal a narrow staircase. When they
reached the
top of the stairs, she opened yet another heavy wooden door.
Peter felt as if
he had
stepped into a time machine when he walked through the door. It was a
small
apartment above the bookstore, filled with antique furniture that
looked to
have been meticulously kept through the ages. The floors were hardwood
and had
been recently shined.
“Earlier this
week,” Mrs.
Barnes explained, “something told me that I should come up here and air
this
apartment out. This is where Mr. Barnes and I lived when we first
bought this
shop. No one has occupied it since our first daughter was born and we
moved
into a house. He always said all this furniture would be worth
something some
day, but I never could bring myself to part with it. Too many memories,
you
know.” She walked into a small kitchen area off the main room, “Just
this
morning I decided to plug in the old refrigerator to see if it still
worked.”
She opened the door and smiled, “Ah…cool air. They don’t make them like
this anymore.”
“No, I’m sure
they don’t,”
he chuckled, smiling at her enthusiasm.
She opened the
cupboards to
reveal some old dishes, “I think you should find everything you need in
here.
If not, please let me know and I’m sure I can come up with something. I
have
far too many dishes at my house.” She turned and led him into a second
room
that broke from the main living area. There was an old wrought iron
bed,
covered in a beautiful handmade quilt, with a marble topped nightstand
and a
matching chest of drawers. “I even put fresh linens on this morning. I
laughed
at myself for doing so, but I just felt I should wake this place up.
Now I know
why.”
“It’s perfect,
Mrs. Barnes,”
he glanced about. “How much would you be asking in the way of rent?”
“Oh no!” She
shook her head
and waved her hand, “That’s just it, you see! That’s why it’s perfect.
We’ll
consider your staying here as part of your wages. Why, it’s the least I
can do.
It will be like having a full time security guard for my store.”
He chuckled,
“Security a
problem here, is it?”
She laughed with
him,
“Never. But who knows? Times are changing. And it would make me feel so
much
better if you would stay here. Do go get your things and settle in.
I’ll see if
I can find a spare key to the store for you. I know I have one
downstairs
somewhere.”
He watched her
start back
down the stairs. ‘So trusting,’ he thought. ‘Perhaps she does need
someone here
to look after her.’
~*~
Peter had
finished unpacking
his single suitcase and was just setting his scriptures on the
nightstand when
there was a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he
called,
stepping into the main room.
Mrs. Barnes
opened the door
with a smile, “Finding everything all right?”
“Truly, this is
ideal,” he
nodded.
“I’m so glad.
Could I
persuade you to join me at my home tonight for dinner?” She invited. “I
know
there are no groceries here and you must be hungry.”
“Dinner?” He
raised his
brows. “I don’t want to be an imposition, Mrs. Barnes. I’m certain
there is a
café around here somewhere that I could…”
“Nonsense,” she
insisted. “A
guest is never an imposition. I will be very glad to have the company.”
“Very well,” he
nodded. “But
is there not at least something I can do for you today before you close
the
shop?”
“You have
already done it,
Mr. Carson. You have given me hope.”
~*~
Peter
accompanied Mrs.
Barnes on her short walk home to a simple but stately brick house.
After
several offers to help, she finally allowed him to set the table. As
she was
preparing their meal, he looked at the collection of family photos on
the
mantle. There were several pictures of a much younger Mrs. Barnes with
a very
handsome man at her side, whom he presumed to be Mr. Barnes. All of the
pictures with children included two girls and boy, who appeared to be
the
youngest of the trio. They looked to be a very happy family.
He shook his
head and sighed
a bit. ‘And yet,’ he thought, ‘she seems so very alone.’
Over the course
of their
meal, Mrs. Barnes began relating stories to him of days gone by. Peter
had long
ago discovered that listening was a much more effective way of gaining
information than was asking questions.
“He would have
liked you
very much, I believe,” she reflected.
“He?”
“Mr. Barnes. My
dear, sweet
Robert. He would have said you have an easy manner and an honest face.”
Peter chuckled,
and gave her
a wink, “Well, I would have told him that he was a very blessed man to
have
such a lovely wife.”
“Oh,” she
blushed a bit, “you’re
charming too. In fact, you remind me of him.”
“I’ll take that
as a
compliment.”
“It was meant to
be. He
certainly charmed me when I was young. Sometimes it seems as if it were
only
yesterday. Oh,” she shook her head, “ and how my father reacted.
Thought he’d
never amount to anything. My mother, on the other hand, was as swept
away by
him as I was. He did eventually win Father over. After we married and
took the
bookstore, Father decided perhaps Robert wasn’t so bad after all. The
store,
you see, belonged to Robert’s uncle and he wanted to retire and spend
time
abroad. So we took it over and moved into the little apartment
above…the one
you have now. Those were very happy days for us.”
“I can well
imagine that
they were.”
She let out a
little sigh
and shook her head. He could see her eyes becoming a bit misty, “He’s
been gone
nearly a year now. I can hardly believe it. I still find myself talking
to him
sometimes.”
“I’m sure he had
a very
happy life with you.”
Her voice broke
slightly as
she recalled, “It was so sudden, you know. One day he was fine. Then
the next
day…well, it was after work and he was out working in the garden. His
garden.
Oh, how he loved his garden. I was in the kitchen and I thought I heard
something. I went to see and there he was…” she took a slow breath
before
continuing, “slumped over his tomatoes and grasping his chest. He was
gone
before the paramedics could get here.”
Peter reached
across the
table and took her frail hand in both of his, “I assure you he’s in a
better
place, Mrs. Barnes.”
She laid her
other hand over
his and patted them, “Oh, I do believe that. It’s just that
sometimes…well, I
wish that I were already there with him.”
“God must still
have work
for you to do here, or you would be.”
She smiled up at
him, “I do
hope so. Sometimes I feel rather useless.”
“Not at all.
Today you have
opened your home, your business, and your heart to me, a complete
stranger. I’m
certain the Lord is well pleased with your generous heart.”
“Oh, Mr. Carson,
it’s not me
helping you, but you helping me. I can’t tell you how I’ve prayed for
someone
to come along and help fill all these empty spaces in my life.”
He gave her hand
a squeeze
before letting it go, “Please, it’s time you started calling me Peter.
And I do
hope that I can be of some assistance to you.”
“Peter,” she
repeated
firmly. “You know, when Robert…left us…my daughters both wanted me to
sell the
bookstore and come to live with them. They think I’m crazy for staying
here. I
know they have the best of intentions, but this is my home. My Allison,
bless
her heart, she has her own family and a career in New York City. Can
you
imagine? She expected me to move to New York City, of all
places? What
would I do in a place like that? I’d be lost! Robert and I visited them
once.
That was enough for us. It was like a foreign country.” She waved her
hand and
shook her head, standing up to clear the dishes.
Peter chuckled,
“I’ve been
to New York City. I’d have to agree with you there.”
“And Brenda,”
she went on,
“she offered too, but her husband is a career military man. They never
stay put
anywhere. California this month, but who knows? Next month it could be
Germany!
No, I’m no gypsy. And I don’t want to be a burden to my children. As
long as
I’m able, I should take care of myself.”
He followed her
to the
kitchen, carrying his own plate to the sink, “I should think they would
understand that.”
“They do, for
the most
part,” she began running the dishwater. “But it does become challenging
when I
need a tree trimmed or the water heater stops working or…well, any
number of
those little things that were just so routine for my dear Robert to
handle. If
only…” she closed her eyes and sighed.
“If only what?”
He asked
softly.
“If only Jeffrey
were still
here.”
By this time,
Peter had
become a fairly adept guesser in his life, “Your son?”
She nodded and
hid her face
from him, focusing on the dirty dishes.
Peter picked up
a towel and
began drying them as she washed, “Where is he?”
Her voice shook,
“With his
father.”
“Tell me.”
“He was such a
good boy.
Never a moment’s trouble. Too good, perhaps. I’ve always thought maybe
that’s
why God took him home so early. He was simply too good for this world.”
She
sighed, “He was driving home from college one weekend…they told us the
truck
driver must have fallen asleep at the wheel. They assured us that
Jeffrey never
felt a thing. It happened too fast. The truck went right over him…” she
closed
her eyes and a tear escaped the corner.
Peter put the
towel down and
wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She immediately turned to him and
let him
offer her comfort.
“I’m very sorry,
Mrs.
Barnes. But everything happens for a reason. Perhaps you are right and
the Lord
had a greater work for him to do in a world unseen by our eyes.”
She used her
soapy hand to
wipe her tears away, flipping bubbles into his face, then smiled
through her
tears when she realized what she had done. “Oh dear! And I think it’s
time you
started calling me Lily! I’ve not only cried all over you, I’ve tossed
bubbles
in your eyes.”
He chuckled,
wiping his eyes
and quoting, “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they
toil
not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon,
in all
his glory, was not arrayed like one of these.”
She shook her
head and
smiled, “There you go again! Turning my head!” She wagged her finger at
him
teasingly, “I’m going to have to watch out for you, I can see it now.”
He gave her a
wink as he
started drying the dishes again, “How about we watch out for each
other?”
“Peter,” she put
her hand
out to him, “you have yourself a deal.”