Katie Fitzgerald
On the credenza in the front hall sat Gabriel’s secret shame, the unreturned library book. A mass-market paperback by a bestselling author, it was the novel his wife, Elaine, had been reading just before she died three years ago. Each month, the library sent him an email notice with his fees for the book highlighted in glaring red text. Elaine had never owed so much as a nickel in library fines her entire sixty-six years, and he felt that letting her down in this way should carry a greater penalty than a few dollars.
When he ran errands, Gabriel always planned to take the book. All summer, he had taken various other items to new homes: clothes, kitchen gadgets, knick-knacks. But when it came to the book, he always found an excuse to hang onto it. The bookmark resting about seventy-five percent of the way through the pages was perhaps the greatest roadblock. As long as the bookmark was still there, Gabriel could pretend Elaine was just in the other room and would be back soon to finish off the story.
If he removed it, he’d have to admit the end had come.
One fall morning, when Gabriel had all the windows open, and the brisk air was dancing through the bright open spaces of his empty home, he heard a voice outside the front door.
“Hey there!”
On the front step stood a trim woman with a gray bob haircut and a toothy grin. Gabriel knew he had never seen her before. Beauty like this he would remember. When he opened the door, he was met with a torrent of words.
“Oh, good, you are home! I hoped so. I just moved in next door.” She jerked her thumb to her left. “That-a-way. And you know, being on my own, I like to just meet the neighbors so I know who to call in an emergency or what-have-you. You can never be too careful at our age, know what I mean?” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Marjorie.”
Her voice was soothing, like a kindergarten teacher’s, or the voiceover on an airline commercial. Lost in the music of it, he shook her hand, told her his name, and then stepped aside to invite her in.
He remembered the book at the exact moment Marjorie spotted it.
“Ooh!” she said, lifting the paperback from its long-held spot. “I love her books!” She turned to smile at Gabriel, and the nervous energy that jolted through him was only partly related to his shame. “I was a librarian for thirty years,” she said, eyes dancing as she glanced from Gabriel to the book and back again. “We could never keep these on the shelf.”
Gabriel’s throat went dry, and he coughed. Of all the people to invite inside, he’d chosen a librarian. What would she think if she knew he had been keeping a coveted title from the public all these years?
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, hoping they could move down the hallway toward the kitchen, and perhaps out to the deck. But Marjorie was still chattering.
“Oh, look!” She ran a finger along the label on the back cover of the book. “It’s from my library.” She fanned the pages with her thumb. “Is that where you borrow your books? I can’t believe I never noticed you there.”
Flattery and fear gripped Gabriel in equal measure.
“Actually,” Gabriel began. “It was my late wife’s.” He swallowed around the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. “She, uh, never got the chance to finish the book, so…”
Marjorie froze with her fingers between the pages of the paperback. “Oh, Gabriel,” she said, sincere sympathy softening her face. She squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry. But what a lovely tribute.” She flipped the book open again. “Is this her bookmark?” Her smile was wistful, and she put her free hand to her heart. “Left right in the page where she stopped reading. That’s beautiful.”
Gabriel was dumbfounded. He grasped for something to say, a way to explain himself. “I’ve been meaning to return it. I never meant to be a thief. Three years went by so fast.”
Marjorie shook her head and waved away his concerns. “That’s nothing. Once we had a senior in high school come in with a book he’d borrowed in kindergarten and lost under his bed. The look on his face, this big basketball player, when he handed me Hop on Pop.” She laughed softly. “We didn’t charge him, of course. It made a cute story for our social media.”
Gabriel had to smile a bit. That was a funny image.
“Have you read any of this?” Marjorie asked then. “It’s one of my favorites. Such a wonderful story.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I wonder…” She glanced down at the book, running her fingers over the front cover, then looked back up at Gabriel. “Would you want to read it together?” Her kind, inviting smile drew Gabriel further in. “If we finish it, you might feel ready to take it back.”
Gabriel paused for a moment. What a strange, kind, unexpected offer. “That sounds nice, Marjorie,” he said in a low voice. “Thank you.”
That afternoon, Gabriel removed the bookmark, bringing it back to page one for a fresh start. With cups of tea, he and his new, wonderful neighbor sat on the back deck and took turns reading aloud from what was clearly an excellent novel.
“My place tomorrow?” Marjorie placed the bookmark at their stopping place several chapters later.
“Sounds perfect.” Gabriel walked her through the house to the front porch, where they stood grinning at each other. “You were right. It’s a great story. I can’t wait to find out what happens next.”
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