Page 3 of Librarian for the Jock

Chapter Three

PAIGE

As I approached Hawthorn Hideaway Library, a weathered brick building nestled on a tree-lined street, I smiled. I love my library. Yes, I call it “my library” because it’s not just any library. I’ve heard that librarians get extremely possessive of their spaces and I can’t deny it. This library isn’t just a workplace for me; it serves as a refuge, a safe space for myself and my community to learn and grow.

I carefully opened the heavy, creaky, wooden front door and gently closed it behind me. The familiar and comforting scent of books and polished wood greeted me. Oh, how I love the smell of a library! My library, though modest in size, also holds an undeniable charm. The interior is a symphony of warm hues, from the honey-colored wooden shelves to the inviting earth-toned carpets. Sunlight streams through the slightly faded curtains, casting a soft glow on the rows of shelves that hold treasure troves of stories. The neatly organized shelves showcase a rich collection of both well-worn classics and the latest releases. I can’t help but smile at the sight of the colorful spines that hold the promise of countless adventures.

I head to my workspace nestled behind the polished wooden counter. The space reflects a delightful blend of practicality and personal touches. An antique desk lamp illuminates the vintage typewriter sitting next to my computer, bridging the gap between tradition and technology. In the back stands photographs of my children and a jar of wildflowers that Jenny picked the other day. Most of the photos are from when Brandon and Jenny were little, and camera hogs. Now, as a teenager and a preteen, sweet, sincere smiles are rare, but I adore my children, no matter how many photos they may strive to ruin with their sullen glares.

I place my purse in a drawer and lock it. Then, I head over to our community notice board with a flier about the upcoming elementary school car wash fundraiser that I received yesterday. I love car washes because that is one chore I just don’t do. No car wash fundraiser for months? My car doesn’t get cleaned until the next one.

I admire my neatly organized and decorated community board, reviewing the colorful flyers for local events, book clubs, writing workshops, art exhibits, gardening classes, town meetings and the upcoming church bake sale, all of which testify to my library as not just a repository of books, but also a cultural hub of small-town life. I remove the flier about the previous night’s city hall meeting.

Grinning, I think of the excitement at the meeting. The heated discussion between “the one who shall not be named” who refuses to pick up after his dog while at the park, and a disgruntled mother, will be the talk of the town today. The mother made a great point; I too would have been very upset that my child enjoyed playing with fresh doggie poop, which would not have been there if the dog’s owner had been more thoughtful, particularly near a playground.

I strolled back to my desk and settled into my well-worn chair. I paused for a moment to appreciate the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall before tackling my to-do list. I had exactly one hour before I opened the doors to our community. I turned on the ten computers that have become a popular destination for many of our patrons. I may have to request a bigger budget from the town so we can add more computers to our library.

After turning on the copy machine, I headed toward what is usually considered the most tedious library task: shelving books. To the average person, this job may seem mundane and extremely boring. Not for me! Shelving books calms my soul and I find it extremely satisfying to put my library in order by author’s last name or by using the right Dewey Decimal System’s numerical order. At least one part of my life can always be rearranged and put in order.

An alarm on my phone broke me out of my shelving trance - it was time to unlock the doors.

I could already sense Mr. Saavedra’s presence through the doors before they were open. His round brown eyes, set behind thick, bottle pop glasses, peered through the glass of the library doors, eagerly anticipating the moment when he could step inside. He aimed his toothless grin at me and I smiled right back. I adore Mr. Saavedra. There's always a sense of urgency in the way he waits at the entrance.

As I swung open the door, Mr. Saavedra’s thin, bony frame darted inside with a speed that suggested a mission to outpace a caffeinated cheetah. His destination is always the computers. As Mr. Saavedra settled into a worn chair, his movements were swift and purposeful. After his beloved wife passed away five years ago, he found solace in the library in front of the computer.

I observed Mr. Saavedra’s usual, almost ceremonial ritual. First, he opens his weathered backpack with practiced precision, revealing a notebook filled with scribbles and notes. Then his fingers dance across the keyboard, clicking with a rhythmic familiarity that suggests an intimate knowledge of the digital realm. The screen flickers to life. The computer’s glow on his face transforms his anxious expression into one of quiet satisfaction.

He lacks internet access at home and refuses to get it installed because why pay for something when you can get it for free at the library? A subtle smile plays on his lips as he starts reading emails from his family. His fingers dance across the keyboard in excitement as he writes his replies.

At some point, Mr. Saavedra turns to me and shares, “My oldest grandbaby, Daisy, wrote a story about my beloved Dana and me for a school project. She got an A on her assignment! It’s a lovely story.” His eyes get teary, yet the gentle smile on his lips remains.

“Oh Mr. Saavedra, thank you for sharing. You must be so proud of Daisy! How old is she now?”

“She is 14 years old now. My, how quickly time flies! She is a little beauty like her grandma.”

“I would love to read her story, if you don’t mind sharing.”

A huge grin split his face. “Of course! I would love to share it. I will forward it to you. Thank you for wanting to read it!”

I smiled back at him. “I’m excited to read it. Thank you again for sharing such wonderful news with me.”

“Again, another reason I don’t need the internet at home–I wouldn’t have anyone to share good news with there! Today, I am going to also do some research on penguins. I saw a documentary on different birds that mate for life and wanted to learn more. It reminded me of my lovely Dana.”

“I, too, find it fascinating to know that other creatures choose one mate for life.” Laughing, I said, “I’m still looking for my lifetime mate. These birds have got it figured out better than me!” Mr. Saavedra looked at me kindly. “He will find you, my dear. Your time is coming soon, I feel it in my bones.”

“Thank you. We will see.” I smiled.

Seven years ago, my ex-husband left us for a “better life.” When it happened, I moved my kids back to Hawthorn Hideaway where I grew up. It was a difficult transition for all of us, but thankfully, we had my mom, my brother and his family, and I had many childhood friends here, to help us adjust to our new normal. Yet, despite the hardships, so many blessings also came our way, and I do my best each day to count my blessings with each flower, rainbow, and personal connection that I’ve built.

The biggest blessing involved both myself and Ms. Smith, our sweet town librarian, who had faithfully maintained my library for over 35 years. She was ready to retire, but no one had any idea who would take over for her. Thankfully, my librarian degree, and our move, happened at exactly the right time - I happily stepped into Ms Smith’s position as she happily stepped out of it. She still comes in to volunteer sometimes though, at least once a week.

My favorite part about being Hawthorn Hideaway's librarian is story time. Once a week, mothers and grandmothers bring their children and grandchildren, babies to five years old, to the library to hear a read-aloud story, do an activity, and borrow books. Our book for today was The Little Engine that Could. As I read, “I think I can. I think I can.” to the seven children, I rotated my arms by my sides like wheels turning around and around. The children copied me and said with me, “I think I can. I think I can.” We also repeated together, “Chicka chicka, chicka chicka, chicka chicka, choo choo!” We laughed and smiled throughout the story.

“The end. What was your favorite part of the story?” I asked the children.

Three-year-old Lexi, who is also my darling niece, wildly raised her hand.

“Yes, Lexi. What was your favorite part of the story?”

Lexi jumped up, her sandy blond pigtails swinging back and forth. “My daddy takes a long time to poop on the toilet because he is reading a book. He should read this one then he’ll be faster! He can say, ‘I think I can. I think I can.’ and then ‘Chicka chicka, chicka chicka, chicka chicka, poo poo!’ Then his poop will come out faster!” With a nod and a huge grin she plopped right back down on the carpet.

Oh my goodness, the honesty and innocence of children! It was all I could do to not burst out laughing. I smiled broadly, “I think that is a great idea, Lexi. Hopefully your daddy agrees, too.”

She nodded her head vigorously. “I have great ideas all the time!”

I looked at Lexi’s mother, my sister-in-law, Olivia, who had turned bright red and was looking down at the floor. She shook her head slightly, a small grimace on her face, and I tried to smile at her reassuringly to show her that it wasn’t a big deal, but it didn’t seem to help. Later, I went over to her and whispered, “We never know what will innocently come out of our children’s mouths. No worries, I understand my brother and his “manly” behaviors. Some things never change. I’ll share some stories with you later about my kids and how they embarrassed me when they were little, before you met my brother.” She looked up and smiled gratefully.

My brother totally married up! I love Olivia, she is smart, kind, and so good for him! He definitely did well finding her.

I turned back to the kids. “Okay, children, come over here and let’s make a train for you to take home.” The children jumped up in excitement and gathered around the table of supplies.

Later, Olivia and Lexi were the last ones to check out their books. Lexi made sure to borrow The Little Engine that Could for her Daddy. “Please let me know if your Daddy enjoys the story as much as you do!” I told Lexi with a big smile.

“Daddy is gonna LOVE this book, even more than me! Right, Mommy?”

Olivia was laughing too, “I believe he will. We may have to get our own copy of this book for our home library.”

“Yippy!” Lexi jumped up and down now with happiness.

I loved these two so much!

I smiled as I watched them walk out of the large double doors, just as a large silhouette stepped into the door frame. I didn’t recognize the man, but I suddenly realized I was still smiling at the door, directly at him.