“Hmm.” She acknowledged the difference with a nod. “But people have stayed here. Even without businesses, even with having to drive into Maillard for whatever they need. Lord knows Duval is unlikely to have it.”
“I think unless you have something that employs a lot of people, you’re just going to have to accept the fact that the town is dying.”
“Yet your parents stay, among others. Why do they stay?”
“My dad says because his church is here.”
“Are there a lot of people? Who go to services? I mean, now that he’s injured?”
“He’s been going. I mean, he was down maybe a couple of weeks, but he forces himself to get up and preach on Sundays. He sits in his wheelchair, my mom does all the physical stuff. It’s taxing, but he goes, and he has about a dozen people who come weekly.”
“You?” she asked.
“Ah. It makes things easier if I do go.” No arguments or cold shoulders for a week after.
She nodded.
“I kind of fell off once I moved out on my own. Not when I was in school—I still went then. But I just stopped making the time for it.” And going now gave him a weird feeling, like he was trying to wear a suit from his younger days. Something that no longer fit. He admired his father for his beliefs and his passion, but it no longer fit who Sam was.
A lot of things no longer fit who Sam was, but he didn’t have a lot of choices. He loved the work, but the freedom of the last few months, of setting his own hours, going fishing if he wanted to, no more tight schedules…it was appealing.
But while he made good money, and had saved quite a bit, he didn’t have enough money to retire at thirty-four. So he was going to have to figure something out.
Erielle pushed herself away from the counter and started toward the doorway. “I’m going to go get dressed, and get started in the study.”
He placed his cup in the sink. “It’s gonna take you a year to get all those books out of there.”
“You have no idea. There are more in the attic.”
“Did he read them all?” The old man had had an unlimited curiosity, but Sam couldn’t imagine anyone reading that much. Worse, really, given the decline of his mind before the decline of his body.
“I don’t see how he could have, but maybe. I know some that I read are still here, and that was a long time ago.”
“I could give you a hand with that, too, emptying out the study, the attic.”
“I’m not putting anyone through that, especially when you surely have better places to be.”
He didn’t respond to her remark, since he really had nothing else to do, picked up his toolbox from where he’d set it on the table. “Why don’t you show me the way to the attic so I can look at those windows?”
The way she paled worried him. What had happened here last night to drive her to sleep in her car? He almost expected her to tell him to mind his own business, but when she said nothing, he continued. “That’s okay, I’ll go up on my own.”
“I, ah. I have the attic door blocked.”
“Blocked? With what?”
“A bookcase that was up there. Nothing can get in or out without moving it. It’s heavy enough on its own, but even heavier with the books I put on it.”
“Morebooks?”
She gave him a sad smile. “He taught me to love books, too.”
“What about your grandma?”
“She…this was hers.” She motioned to the kitchen. “This is where we spent a lot of my summer vacation, not just making down-home recipes, but learning the science of cooking. She was really smart, too. She and my grandfather would have these great discussions over dinner about politics or philosophy. I think now they may have done it for my benefit, to teach me how to have intelligent conversations.” Her voice, her eyes became softer as she reminisced.
He remembered her from then, the happy, carefree girl she’d been. He wished he could take some of the weight off her shoulders. Well, that was why he was here, wasn’t he? “I’ll go on up.”
“I’ll…go get dressed.” She looked at the stairs like she’d rather do anything else.
