Light Up His Life Page 2

  Satellites outnumbered the phone lines up above. A couple of phone carrier outlets were tucked into the two gas stations and smaller corner stores he'd passed by on his walk. Cell phones were in the hands of the young and the old. Unfortunately, he didn't see anyone walking the sidewalks carrying a paperback.

  There was a book in the hands of the woman across the street at a diner. She held a hardback book to her nose. He could tell by the title on the cover that it was classic British Literature straight out of Advanced English class.

  Luke had never liked those books in school. They never ended happily. Usually, it was the heroine who suffered some moral punishment that was all the hero's fault.

  The woman with her nose in the book was quite pretty. Brown hair pulled back in a bun. A pert nose. Glasses covering her brown eyes. She looked like a stereotypical librarian. Not a real one, more like a young woman who was trying to dress the part, complete with a pastel cardigan. Only she was more pretty than bookish.

  There had been a ton of librarians back in Luke's hometown. His upscale neighborhood in Northern Virginia had had a library within every five miles. All the librarians there looked the same. Like doting grandmothers or spinster aunts pushing books into the hands of impressionable youths.

  The grandma-librarian types were thrilled that kids were reading and didn't try to censor the titles. They'd push dragon books, science fiction books, war books, anything that the kid was guaranteed to open.

  The spinster-aunt looking ones were a different case. They often hid the bestselling titles. They shamed teenage girls from reaching for the romance novels. They tsked at the young men who reached for covers with spaceships and guns.

  Luke's days were planned around the librarian's shifts. He knew when the grandmas were there behind the circulation desk and when the aunts patrolled the stacks.

  The woman in the dining window turned the page. She reached for a napkin and placed it between the pages before setting the book down and taking a bite of her taco. The innards of the taco spilled down on the plate and her dress, which she'd covered with a napkin.

  So, not only was she pretty, she was careful with the book. She’d taken great pains to separate the taco. And she wasn't a dog-earring reader. She wouldn't appreciate Luke. Dog ears helped him not only remember his place, but it also helped him remember the best parts of the book. When he saw that crease, he could go back and reread the best parts.

  Though the bibliophile fascinated him, Luke turned away from the diner and the window. A relationship was not in his cards. He had work to do and a friend to look after.

  He knew survivor's guilt was a form of PTSD. And he was doing something about it. He was getting his friend the help he needed. Once Paul was situated, then Luke would start to date again. Maybe he'd set his sights on the library. He'd be sure to bypass the town’s spinster aunties and ask the kind-looking grannies for their granddaughters’ phone numbers. Surely they would have taught their young ones the beauty of the written word.

  The town's library was quite small compared to all the libraries in his home town. It was the size of a small house where the libraries back in Northern Virginia had been as big as department stores, often with two floors. Walls and walls of books, CDs, movies, video games, magazines, even toys that kids could check out.

  This library was one room. Wall to wall shelves covered each corner. And there were five stacks in the middle of the room. A row of tables sat off to the side. Two young people sat at one with iPads out.

  Well, the young woman had her iPad out and was tapping away. The young man had a book with the rear of a spaceship and its thrusters glowing brightly on the cover.

  "Would you put that down?" said the young woman. "We have serious literature to do a project on. I don't want you talking about photon guns when we're supposed to talk about morality and feminism in the Victorian era."

  The young man peaked over the cover of the book. "This book is actually filled with feminism. Did you know the captain of the ship is a woman? And the sexes are equal in this future. In the military, men and women even share the same bunks and bathrooms."

  Luke took a closer look and saw that the young man was reading his first book. Although the military wasn't that advanced, Luke had served with many women in the service who were his betters. The creation of his heroine was dedicated to the female pilot who'd taught him everything he knew.

  The book had been a hit, and he'd gotten a four-book deal. It was the third book that he was supposed to be writing now. But it had stalled during Paul’s recovery.

  "Can I help you find something?"

  Luke turned to the circulation desk. There wasn't a gray-haired, rosy-cheeked granny sitting there. Neither was this woman quite the spinster auntie type.

  She would definitely be classified as young and beautiful. She didn't dog-ear the pages of the book she’d been reading. She didn't stuff a napkin or bookmark to hold her place either. This librarian laid her book down with the covers open and the pages pressed into the desk. The book was clearly a women's fiction book.

  "Yes," said Luke. "Dr. Patel sent me. About doing a reading."

  Her eyes remained blank. And then they lit up. "You're Walker Skye?"

  Luke nodded.

  Behind him, the young man reading his book turned and gaped.

  Luke hated this part. He didn't like to be the center of attention. He preferred to have his characters do that. Why had he agreed to this?

  "I'm Mary, the head librarian here. We are so thrilled to have you."

  Luke mustered a smile. He'd never been a charmer when it came to ladies. Probably because he never looked at them as objects of desire. Having been around military families his whole life, women were either caretakers in the home or defenders on the battlefield, often both. Asking women to cover his back was no problem. Asking one on a date had always been a challenge for him.

  Mary, the librarian, was looking at him with interest. But he didn't feel the same pull toward her. Not like the taco-eating, classic book reading woman back at the restaurant. Luke wasn’t sure what drew him to her? By their reading tastes and place holding habits, they had nothing in common. Though he did like Mexican food.

  “Mr. Skye?”

  Luke blinked to find the young man with his book, and a pen extended to him.

  “I’m so sorry for bothering you.”

  “It’s no bother at all,” said Luke.

  He beamed. “Could I get your autograph?”

  “That’s a library book, Daniel,” said Mary, the librarian.

  Daniel’s face fell.

  “Tell you what,” said Luke. “I’m giving a reading here in a couple of days. You come to the reading, and I’ll bring you an autographed copy.”

  Daniel’s face lit up.

  Luke made the arrangement for his reading. Mary made advances that he dodged like he was in a fighter jet. They exchanged numbers, but he only had the intention of using hers for business purposes if the need arose. He doubted it would.

  With a wave to the young man who still wasn't typing on his iPad along with his classmate, Luke exited the library. He needed to get some writing done. He suddenly had a hankering for tacos. He hurried down the street, back toward the Mexican restaurant. But he stopped in the bookstore first. He figured he’d support the local economy and buy his book there to autograph instead of going into his personal stash. He was already feeling like a part of the community.

  Chapter Four

  Elaine brushed the salsa from her blouse. This was why she always wore dark colors. Food, drinks, pen markings inevitably ended up on her clothing. It was also why she always kept a cardigan handy to wrap around her shoulders and cover the evidence.

  She wasn’t clumsy. She just was careless with anything that wasn’t parchment. Fabrics shuddered when she pulled them onto her body. Each article of clothing knew their time in her closet would be short-lived.

  But the books on her shelves got the utmost care. Weekly dusting. A heav
y curtain over the window to protect them from light. Thick comforters on her bed, so that the books didn’t suffer the dreaded AC unit being on for too long or at all.

  A side of chips and guacamole appeared before her on Elaine’s table. She looked up to see Juan Castro grinning down at her.

  “On the house,” said Juan.

  Elaine pushed the salty treat back toward him. “No gracias.”

  “Oh, come on, Elaine. It’s not an engagement ring.”

  Elaine shuddered and slipped her cardigan over her shoulders. It might as well be. That’s how most animal mating rituals began. The male would offer the female the choicest morsels of food. And then he would pounce.

  Elaine had no interest in being pounced on. Her belly was full of tacos, which she’d paid for herself. No matter that a good portion of it was on her shirt.

  “I’m not even asking for a dinner date, just lunch,” said Juan.

  “Juan, you know I don’t date.”

  “No woman doesn’t date.”

  “This woman does.” Elaine paused, examining her sentence structure. “Doesn’t. Whatever. We’ve been through this before.”

  Elaine gathered her book. She removed the napkin from her book and pressed a cloth bookmark between the pages to hold her space. Not that she needed the reminder. She’d read Tess of the d’Urbervilles from cover to cover more times than she could count. And the book looked as pristine as the day she’d bought it.

  Placing the book carefully in her bag, Elaine scooted out of the booth and around Juan. The man was unrelenting. But she came here every Tuesday for the last four years because the tacos were to die for. She grabbed the to-go bag for Mary, making a mental note that next time it would be Mary’s turn to come out for Taco Tuesday to-go.

  Mary easily dealt with male attention. Because Mary wanted male attention. Elaine did not.

  “I don’t think you’ve dated anyone since high school,” said Juan.

  He was wrong. Elaine hadn’t dated anyone in high school. She hadn’t dated anyone in college either. What was the point? More than fifty percent of all marriages ended in divorce. And those that didn’t held the two participants trapped in a cycle of unhappiness.

  Why bother? All Elaine needed was her books to keep her warm at night. She was happy getting lost in a story where she knew how it ended. And most stories she read ended in tragedy, thus confirming that true love was a made-up concept by the Hallmark Channel.

  “Just a coffee,” Juan said.

  “See you next Taco Tuesday, Juan.” Elaine left a tip on the counter and headed out the exit.

  The fall air was brisk. She cradled her book to her chest. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Elaine backed up off the sidewalk and under an awning to answer it. She wasn’t one to walk and talk, or worse, walk and text. Safety first, especially since she was often carrying one of her precious books in her bag.

  Elaine pulled her phone out of her bag to see that it was a text from Mary. “Hurry back,” it read. “Exciting news.”

  Elaine could use some exciting news. Jobs as a librarian were hard to come by in today’s world. Many circulation desks were turning digital. Like the science fiction novels she detested, artificial intelligence was taking over her world. If they didn’t figure out something to increase circulation at the library and get more bodies into the building, Elaine’s job might be in jeopardy in the near future.

  “On my way,” she texted back. Then put her phone back into her bag.

  Elaine waved to a few people she knew as she headed back down the main street. She’d lived in this town her whole life, deciding to stay after her parents’ latest divorce. Elaine had gotten the house in the second divorce. It had always been the one constant in her life, and so she’d decided to stick close to it. Her parents were long gone; this town had always felt like home to Elaine. So, she’d staked her roots.

  She liked the predictability of small-town living. She liked knowing all of her neighbors. She liked that change moved at a slow progress. Slow she could handle. Fast and unpredictable, she didn’t like.

  A man was moving slowly across the street. Elaine noted that he was tall, well-built. He walked with his shoulders straight like he had a purpose. His stride was long, sure. But his head was down, so she couldn’t see his eyes.

  He wasn’t looking down at his phone. He was looking down at a book. More than wanting to see what color his eyes were, she wanted to know what he was reading.

  A car rounded the corner. The reader was almost out of the crosswalk and to her side of the street. But he wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see the car.

  It took Elaine a second to make her decision. She dropped her bag to the ground. Then she dashed out into the street.

  Her hands wrapped around his wrists, making sure to cradle the book he held. And then she gave the big man a tug.

  They tumbled to the ground. Elaine felt the impact on her shoulders and bottom. She was going to be bruised in the morning. But what hurt most was her head. Her good deed for the day would leave her with a headache for the rest of the afternoon.

  Brown. His eyes were brown. That was the last thing she remembered.

  That and the title of his book. It was a science fiction book. One where the AI’s take over the planet. Fitting.

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter Five

  Luke paced the linoleum floors of the emergency room. The soles of his shoes peeled off the floor with something sticky each time, trying to hold him in place. He hadn’t held still since they’d wheeled her in here.

  Elaine was her name. He’d learned that when he’d grabbed her purse from the ground. He’d left behind the taco take-out bag as it was a casualty, and the ants were already on it. Her state ID had slipped from her purse, and he’d seen her name.

  He wasn’t the only one who knew her name. One of the EMT drivers had known her name, as well. It was a small town. Of course, everyone knew everyone else. He’d given Luke the side-eye. It was the first unwelcome gesture he’d been presented in this town.

  He couldn’t blame them. It was his fault. He was surprised more people weren’t glaring at him from the sidewalk.

  The accident had happened after the end of the lunch rush, so not many people had been out. He’d been able to whisk her to a bench and out of the road. The car that had been driving by had out of state plates, which was likely why they hadn’t stopped. No ties to this community.

  It hadn’t been the driver’s fault. It had been Luke’s fault. He hadn’t been paying attention, and she’d tried to save him. Then everything had gone in slow motion.

  He’d felt the tug on his wrists. He’d turned, and there she was. She was backlit by the sun. Her hair wasn’t all brown. There were golden highlights amongst the strands, and they sparked in the sun’s spotlight.

  The same golden flecks were in her brown eyes. Like twinkling stars in a hazel galaxy. Luke felt himself being pulled into warp speed. Everything around him went fuzzy, except her clear, sparkling eyes.

  Her clear, sparkling eyes that were filled with alarm. Why was she alarmed? Was she feeling the pull too? She certainly was pulling him toward her.

  Only her gaze wasn’t filled with passion. It was filled with worry. No, that was fear. Actually, it looked more like terror.

  Luke spotted the danger in his peripheral vision. A car was headed straight toward them. She was trying to save him.

  Instincts took over. He swung their bodies around so that he was closest to the danger. But in doing so, she landed on her side. His body wasn’t able to cushion her blow. The sparkles in her eyes dimmed, then went out as she closed them and lay unconscious.

  He just wished it had been him unconscious on the street and not her.

  She was still unconscious when the ambulance arrived. She was unconscious the whole ride. Though they’d let Luke ride with them.

  “Mr. Jackson, your girlfriend has been moved to a room.”

  There was also that. In or
der to ride with Elaine in the ambulance, he’d had to tell a bit of a lie. Luke didn’t hesitate to mislead the paramedic. He had no intention of letting Elaine out of his sight now that he was paying attention.

  “Is she all right?” he asked as he followed the nurse.

  “It just looks like a concussion. Nothing is broken. She should wake up soon.”

  Luke exhaled. But not fully. He wouldn’t let go of his full breath until she walked out of the hospital on her own two feet. He didn’t plan to leave until then.

  The nurse led him into a room. There were two beds separated by a thin curtain. On one side of the curtain lay an older woman, snoring lightly. And then Luke saw her, Elaine.

  She looked peaceful with her eyes closed. Like an angel dressed in blue and white polka dots. She made the hospital gown look like the height of fashion.

  On the table sat her belongings. There was the bag with her book poking out. Luke tore his gaze away from her face and picked up the book.

  Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles was not one of Luke’s favorites. He didn’t like books where the decks were stacked against the protagonists. True, he wrote books about the underdog. But in his books, the protagonists eventually won and defeated the evil empire. Hardy didn’t always play by those rules.

  But it would seem those rules followed Luke around. This wasn’t the first time someone else had suffered because of him. First, his mother. Then Paul. And now her.

  A soft moan escaped Elaine. Luke went to her immediately. He held his breath while her eyes fluttered and then opened.

  She stared at him. He stared at her. He held still as her gaze flicked over him, and he waited for recognition. And finally, there was a sparkle in her eye.

  Luke’s heart skipped a beat gazing into those coffee-colored supernovas. It was like a shot of adrenaline right into his chest. Her lips parted, and he forgot how to breathe. Her hand lifted off the bed, and he felt like he should take a knee, like a knight pledging fealty. Shakespeare rang in his ears, what satisfaction canst though have tonight?