Page 11

ELEVEN

ETHAN

I arrived at the library fifteen minutes early, carrying a paper bag from Special Blend containing four scones. As I stepped through the doors, I immediately noticed Clara at the front desk looking frazzled and glancing anxiously at her watch.

“Clara? Is everything okay?” I asked, approaching her.

She looked up, relief washing over her face. “Oh, thank goodness. We have a bit of a situation.”

“What’s going on? Can I help?” The words were out of my mouth before I even knew what the problem was.

Clara sighed. “Our storyteller for the children’s reading hour is stuck in traffic and won’t make it in time. I’m the only staff member here since Andre’s not back yet. I can’t leave the desk unattended. And the kids usually want someone besides the parents to read to them.”

My heart rate picked up as I realized what she might be about to ask. I’d rather try to figure out how to check a book out for someone than have to read in public. But I’d already offered to help, so there was no going back now.

“Is there anything I can do?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes lit up. “Would you be willing to read to the kids? I’m sure they would love you filling in.”

I swallowed hard but nodded. “Of course.”

Relief flooded Clara’s face. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

As we walked toward the children’s section, I focused on my breathing.

In for four counts.

Hold for four.

Exhale for four.

Calm was essential. I repeated the exercise, willing my nerves to settle. By the time we reached the group of waiting children, I was marginally more prepared to face this unexpected challenge.

“Everyone,” Clara announced to the kids. Their chatter quieted, but whispers and pointing erupted as I stepped in beside her. “Miss Patterson is running late, so we have a special guest reader. This is Ethan Gallagher, and he’s going to read to you.”

“Mr. Ethan!” A little boy, maybe five or six, in a Maplewood Bears T-shirt bounced where he sat. “I can’t wait to see you play Saturday! It’ll be so much cooler than just watching on TV.”

“And you’re a Bears fan, I see.” His enthusiasm helped ease my stress a bit.

“Yeah! I want to play for them. I’m on the Cubs now.”

“That’s where I started.”

“I know. Coach tells us stories about you and Ryland Zervudachi all the time.”

Liam coached the Cubs and the Bears, and the fact he invoked my name and Ry’s as an example of players from Maplewood who had succeeded wasn’t surprising. I found it a little embarrassing sometimes, but it was good there were players that young people could take inspiration from.

“I’m going to leave you with this bunch.” Clara smiled and mouthed thank you . “Now, you all be nice to Mr. Ethan, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Clara,” many of them chorused.

Their focus turned to me.

“Okay.” I paused, willing calmness. The bookshelves held brightly colored covers with all kinds of illustrations. “What would you like me to read?”

“I know the perfect one.” A girl with curly dark hair got up and went to the shelf. “It’s new and it’s about Pride.” She brought me a book.

I took it, looking at the smiling boy on the cover standing in front of a rainbow. The title read Finding My Rainbow, A Journey of Courage, Acceptance, and Pride .

Settling into the reading chair, I opened the book. Larger, easier-to-read text and colorful illustrations made it less daunting. Extra space between the lines meant I didn’t need to run my finger under them.

I read the words to myself a couple of times, trying not to take too much time. “In the small town of Cullman, Alabama, there lived a boy named Josh,” I began. “Josh had a secret that felt as heavy as the summer air that hung over the corn fields.”

After reading the first two pages, I turned the book so everyone could see the illustrations of Josh standing on his block and with his friends in front of his school.

A few adults, likely parents, had phones out taking pictures or filming. I tried to ignore that and focused on the young audience before me.

But I had a fear, even with this being easier to read, of messing it up. An idea struck. “Who wants to help me read the next page?”

Several hands shot up.

“Me! Me! I can read!” The curly-haired girl waved her arm enthusiastically.

“Come on up here. You picked out the book, so it’s only fair you should read some of it for us.”

I moved to the floor, sitting cross-legged so she could sit next to me.

“Hi there. What’s your name?”

“I’m Marta.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marta. Shall we see what Josh does next?”

She nodded and I handed her the book. Marta read the next two pages, then turned the book and described the illustration. It was a nice touch, and I wondered if that was what I should’ve done or if it was her own particular flair.

Absorbed in the reading, I didn’t notice Andre’s arrival until I looked up during Marta’s explanation. He leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching us with a soft smile that made my heart flutter. Our eyes met briefly and his smile widened, sending warmth through my chest.

The moment stretched until one kid asked, “What’s on the next page?” bringing me back to the present.

“Should I turn the page?” Marta asked.

“How about we see if anyone else wants to read?” Marta smiled and nodded, which I appreciated since I didn’t want her to be disappointed.

The young man in the Bears T-shirt got his hand up first, so I called on him.

“I’m Bart,” he said as he sat down.

“Good to meet you, Bart.” We traded fist bumps before he took the book, read two pages, and talked about the pictures. I for sure had messed up not doing that, but it didn’t seem worth going back since everyone seemed entertained.

My earlier anxiety faded to background noise. Everyone seemed to have a good time—some readers even did voices for the characters. Andre remained too, his constant smile directed at me even though he must have a thousand things to do.

I also realized that I desperately wanted to kiss his smile.

Luckily, that didn’t hit me until we reached the book’s last page just as Miss Patterson arrived.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, unpacking the puppet theater, “but thank you so much for filling in.”

Some older kids helped her set up, which was apparently a routine.

“Thanks for being such a wonderful audience,” I said to the kids. “I enjoyed reading Josh’s story with you all and learning about someone who lives in a different small town. And thanks to each of you who read too.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ethan,” they said collectively. A couple of kids even came up for fist bumps or hugs.

“You’re welcome. Have a great time with Miss Patterson.”

I joined Andre as the children settled in for the puppet show.

“That was impressive,” he said in his soft library voice as we moved away. “Thank you for filling in. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

“You’re welcome. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but the kids being so good helped me stay calm.”

“Want to head to my office? We can talk about the judging.”

“Let’s do it. I need to pick up one thing at the desk.”

Andre raised an eyebrow, and I replied with a grin.

As we approached, Clara held up the bag. “Thanks so much for that last-minute help.”

“My pleasure.” I took it and gestured for Andre to lead the way to his office.

Boxes were everywhere, some stacked in a corner or other available spaces.

“These are for you,” I said, holding out the paper bag. “From Special Blend. I remembered you liked their maple pecan scones.”

Andre’s eyes lit up. “Thank you so much. Perfect afternoon snack. I can’t believe you remembered that after that one visit.” He accepted and pulled out a scone. “You’re having one too, right?”

“I’d love to.” I sighed. “It’s occurring to me now that I should’ve brought drinks too.”

He held up a finger. “I’ve got it covered.” He pointed behind me to a small refrigerator. “There are some bottles of coffee in there. Want to grab a couple?”

He’d stocked up with several flavors. I took two mochas, thinking they’d pair well with the scones.

As I turned and held out a drink, we laughed, realizing our hands were full. Our fingers brushed as we traded a pastry for a drink, sending that familiar spark through my chest just like the other day.

“So.” He settled behind his desk, sounding flustered.

Had that touch affected him too? We stared at each other, his smile giving me goose bumps.

“Let’s talk judging criteria. We can start with the crafts fair.

We’ve got four criteria: Creativity, originality, use of a maple element, and relevance to the Pride theme. ”

I took a seat, moving closer to the desk. “Theme incorporation?”

He’d taken a bite just as I asked the question. He held up a finger and exaggerated the chewing motions as if trying to hurry up, making me laugh again. It already felt so easy to be around him.

“Each entry needs to incorporate something related to Pride or the LGBTQ+ community.” Andre grabbed his tablet and started swiping. “Remember last year’s winning entry? The huge handwoven tapestry featuring interwoven maple leaves transforming into all the colors of the Progress Pride flag?”

“Yes! That was amazing.” The image of that gorgeous piece flashed in my mind as Andre held up his screen, displaying a picture. “Is that from The Wild Palette?”

“Good eye. The artist had a small show after the win, and that was the centerpiece. It’s still there.” Andre closed his tablet and put it aside. “Olivia arranged to have it as an ongoing display. The artist will be one of the judges this year too.”

“Great. I can rely on them for guidance.”

“You’ll do fine. I…”

Andre’s phone buzzed, interrupting our conversation. His expression grew concerned as he read the message. “We’ve got a situation at the park. The vendor tent setup isn’t going as fast as planned, and we’re short on volunteers.”

“I can help,” I offered immediately. “And I bet some kids from camp might be willing to pitch in. Let me text Liam.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” I pulled out my phone. “What time do you need people?”

“Now?” Andre sounded apologetic as he winced. “We need everything set up before tomorrow’s vendor check-in.”

“Consider it handled.” I hit the microphone button on the messaging app and dictated a text explaining the situation.

My phone buzzed with Liam’s response, and I played it out loud. “We’re wrapping up the session. I’ll bring whoever I can, and we’ll be in the park in a half hour or so.”

“Thank you. You’re helping so much today.”

“I’m glad I can.”

Before I could stop myself, I reached across the desk, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it—partly to show support but mostly because I ached to touch him.

Electric sparks shot up my arm and straight to my heart, making it speed up.

When he smiled broadly, my whole body hummed with an intensity that threatened to short-circuit my brain.

“Uhm, we should… Um… I need to get to the park. I don’t—” Andre sounded as discombobulated as I felt.

“Yup.” I snapped back to the task at hand but still squeezed one last time before letting go. “Let’s get going.”