Louisiana Saves the Library (26 page)

C
HAPTER
41

A
t the beginning of September, the librarians held a meeting in Hope's office. Sylvia sat in one of the plastic chairs and balanced a legal pad on her lap. Louise took the other chair and crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable.

“Now the real work begins,” Hope said.

Louise raised her eyes to Jesus hanging above the desk. A miracle was what they needed.

“How are the Friends of the Library doing?” Sylvia asked.

“They made up some flyers, but the Gund is bullying most of the places to hang hers instead. We have ours in the Piggly Wiggly, the Cut and Dye, and the gym. Betta's working on getting more buttons and T-shirts made,” Louise said. “I wish we could afford a mailing, but they haven't raised enough money yet.”

“The book-burning crazies are back,” Hope said. “I seen some signs around. Facebook page is back too.”

“What can we do?” Sylvia asked. “Not much, I'm sure.”

“As public employees, we can't campaign, but we can give out information,” Louise said.

“We need to make us an informational brochure. If y'all do something up, I'll help hand them out,” Hope said. “We can give 'em to people when they check out books too. We done that with the last try to get this tax passed. For all the good it done in the end.”

“I'm going to make it pink. Pink makes people happy.” Sylvia doodled something with a pen.

“Okay, so what's going on with the library director position?” Louise asked.

“That's why I called this meeting. I heard from Marty Pratt this morning. They are starting the search,” Sylvia said.

“Are we going to be involved?”

“Apparently not. They don't have to let us participate in the process.”

“We could end up with another Mr. Foley. Or worse,” Louise said.

Hope turned and eyed the Jesus picture. “Don't you worry about that none. There ain't no other Mr. Foleys around.”

“This is serious! If we end up with a bad director, we'll be right back where we started.”

“Simmer down and listen, city girl. First, y'all need to apply for the job. Update your résumés and whatnot. Second, this here process is gonna take a while. What we need to worry about right now is getting that tax passed. 'Cause if that don't happen, we won't get no library director of any stripe.”

“She's right,” Sylvia said. “We have to keep our heads with this thing.”

Louise sat down on the edge of her chair. “Why don't you apply, Hope?”

Hope snorted. “I ain't no library director material. 'Sides, I didn't even finish college. You think they're gonna hire my redneck behind? I'll be lucky if the new boss don't fire me.”

“They can't do that!” Sylvia said.

“Reckon I'm supposed to have a college degree for this job. But I'm too old for that stuff now.”

“You are not. I've had students a lot older than you.”

Hope waved her hand dismissively. “Can't teach an old dog new tricks.”

 

For some obscure reason, elections in Louisiana were held on Saturdays. Louise had to work, so she dropped the kids off at Brendan's and drove to the library. She still didn't love being trapped behind the circulation desk, but Lily seemed content to sit there and read her historical newsletters. She parked herself obligingly with her cup of coffee.

Louise paced nervously, trying to act casual when she asked patrons if they'd voted. The weather was good—sunny and cool—which should boost turnout. That should be a good thing since there had to be more reasonable people than tax- and library-hating cranks on the rolls. Louise checked the book-burning Facebook page and Twitter feed constantly. Most of the comments were from outraged citizens who had seen the previous night's news broadcast. The reporter from Channel 6 had interviewed Sylvia in front of one of the yard signs that said, “A NO Vote to the Library is a YES vote to Jesus.” Sylvia had made great TV yet again. The Facebook comments were split evenly between fans of the library and fans of her.

At four o'clock, Louise allowed herself to check the election returns online. The tax was losing by two percentage points. She waited until a high school teacher with a stack of DVDs finished checking out before telling Lily.

“The returns from the Oak Lake area and Alligator Bayou proper haven't come in yet,” Lily said. “All they have is Hungarian Springs. And there's a lot of people around this area who work in Saint Jude. They're not invested in the parish at all. I'd be surprised if it doesn't turn around in a couple of hours.”

Louise hoped she was right. But Lily would be fine in any case. She'd be just as happy working for the local historical society or as a secretary for one of the town officials. The library was just a place of employment for her, interchangeable with any other desk job.

When Ms. Trudy came in to give her promised update, Louise met her at the door. “What have you heard? Do we have a chance?”

“I don't know, hon. Hollis Murphy is declaring that it failed.”

Murphy hosted a local radio program. He usually knew everything that was going on in the parish. Could he be wrong this one time?

“That doesn't sound good,” Louise said.

“Seems early to me to be making predictions. It's only five forty-five. I have a lot more work to do—driving people to the polls, making sure our teens are waving their signs on Main Street, talking to people. A lot of folks have been running errands or working all day. We need to catch them on their way home. I just want you to know that we're doing everything we can.” Ms. Trudy patted Louise's arm before hurrying back out the door.

 

Even though Sylvia couldn't vote in Alligator Bayou Parish, she insisted on accompanying Louise and Sal to the high school. They joined the line in the gymnasium.

“Make sure you push the right button,” Sylvia said.

“Shh. No campaigning. They'll kick you out,” Sal said.

“Sorry, I'm just nervous. Oh my God, is that the Gund?”

Louise groaned. Seeing her archenemy casting her vote, no doubt against the library, seemed like a bad sign. Good thing she didn't believe in omens of any kind. She inched behind Sal, hoping that his broad back would obscure her just enough to escape Mrs. Gunderson's notice.

It didn't work. Mrs. Gunderson came out of the booth and immediately headed for the librarians like a heat-seeking missile. There was no escape from her purposeful stride. She halted in front of Louise, frowning as usual. She cut her eyes to Sylvia. “Ms. Jones. I hope you know you can't vote in this parish.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sylvia crossed her arms and fixed the police juror with a hard stare.

Mrs. Gunderson turned back to Louise. “I trust you have heard the returns so far. Your votes will certainly not be enough to turn the election.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Louise couldn't think of anything else to say. She focused on her own tiny, distorted reflection in the shiny buttons on the police juror's shirt-jacket.

Mrs. Gunderson leaned in closer and whispered, “After I win this, I will find a way to shut the library system down. I don't care if it has to go to an election, I'll make it happen.” She walked away, hips swaying under her too-tight skirt.

Sylvia made a rude gesture at her back.

“Now, now,” Sal said. “I think it's past due time I make a little confession. It might even make y'all feel a little better.”

“I'll take what I can get,” Louise said.

“Me and Matt did the book-burning stuff.”

Louise stared at him. Sylvia began to laugh so hard that the entire line of voters turned around and looked at her.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it wouldn't have worked if people knew about it,” Sal said. “He did the Facebook page and designed the signs. I had the Twitter account. The Pettigrews helped me find people who would put the signs in their yards. That was the hardest part.”

Sylvia recovered enough to give him a high five. “Awesome idea. Let's hope it did work.”

“I can't believe you hid this from me,” Louise said. She was happy that he'd done so much work for her and the library. On the other hand, she'd thought they were telling each other everything. Secret keeping was very Brendan-like. He'd claimed to be “protecting” her when he kept things from her. Like the time he'd passed out on a female graduate student's couch after a party. She'd found out about that one when the young woman called the next day, wanting her to pick him up.

Sal took both of her hands in his. “I'm not hiding anything else from you. I promise.”

Louise looked into his blue eyes. He was not Brendan. He'd been scheming to help the library, not to hurt her. “I know,” she said.

“Listen, I have to tell y'all something too. I know you're going to be mad at me and I don't blame you,” Sylvia said. “But I guess it's confession time.”

“What? You knew about this?” Louise asked. The election line was starting to feel like a teenager's game of truth or dare.

“No! I was as surprised as you.”

“So . . .” Louise said, prompting her to get to the point already.

“Jake is taking a position in Houston. He'll be working for one of Bayou Oil's biggest competitors. Even if I made enough money to support my family—and I don't—Jake is a lousy househusband. He can't cook unless it's outside on the grill, he doesn't have any clue how to clean the bathroom, and every time I'm out late, the kids eat sugar cereal and watch TV all evening. He hates being home. He feels like less of a man, and it's making him sick. Stupid, I know.”

“I understand. You don't have to explain.”

Sylvia sighed. “I guess I'll be baking cookies after all.”

“I can give you a recipe.”

“Shut up. I'm gonna cry already.”

“Me too.” Louise shuffled forward as the line advanced.

 

When they came out, Breaux was leaning against the brick wall, flipping through his notebook. “I'd ask y'all how you voted, but I guess I don't have to.”

“What's the news?” Louise asked.

“It's close. I figure most of the people who won't tell me how they voted are against the library, but even with that, it's darn near fifty-fifty.” He squinted at Louise. “Listen, go home and relax. I'll call you when I got a definite idea.”

Louise and Sal got in Sal's truck while Sylvia left in her SUV. Louise couldn't remember a longer day since the one she spent in labor with Max. She just wanted it to be over. Once again, she was grateful for the agreement that Brendan and Julia would watch the children on Saturdays. She just didn't have the energy to deal with them.

“That Mrs. Gunderson is one nasty woman. Sometimes bullies get far in life,” Sal offered.

“Yeah,” Louise said. After living in Alligator Bayou for six months, she still didn't have a clear picture of the residents of the town. She'd followed Sylvia's advice and tried to pay attention to everyone she met—making a note of their jobs, likes and dislikes, who they were related to. She'd done a pretty good job with the library regulars and the people who worked in the places where she shopped. But there were a lot of people in the parish who were outside of their circle. Some couldn't read at all and probably only had a vague idea of what the library had to offer.

“Louise? We're here,” Sal said.

They were parked in front of his mobile home. She started to get out of the truck, fighting against the inertia enveloping her whole being. But before she could push the door open, her phone rang. Julia. She collapsed back onto the seat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we're taking Max to the emergency room,” Julia said.

“What?” Louise's inertia was gone, replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

“It's nothing serious. I mean, well, he just stuck a peanut up his nose and it won't come out.”

Louise held the phone at arm's length for a moment. She had to stop herself from screaming into it, asking who had the brilliant idea to give her son nuts and didn't they know that he did things like that when he was bored? She pressed the phone against her ear again. “Okay, which hospital? Okay, I'll be there.”

Sal put his seat belt back on. “What happened?”

“Max stuck a peanut up his nose.”

Sal laughed. “I'm sorry, it's not funny. He'll be fine. I did that once with a pea. Everyone panicked, but after a while, I snorted it out on my own.”

“Yeah.” Louise slumped down in her seat.

“Call Betta while I drive. She can start making dinner because I'm sure we'll be back soon.”

 

The hospital was the same one where Mr. Henry died. Louise fought down panic while Sal parked the car near the emergency room entrance. Max couldn't be seriously hurt by a peanut in his nose, could he? Maybe it would somehow travel to his lungs and get stuck there. She debated asking Sal if such a thing was possible, but she didn't want to know the answer.

Inside the emergency room, the TV was tuned to a cable news station. No one was watching the anchor drone on about the dangers of inflatable pools. A few people sat in the gray chairs, flipping through dog-eared magazines. Louise didn't see Brendan or Max. She scanned the room again, her anxiety mounting.

“They're in the corner there,” Sal said.

Julia waved when she saw Louise and Sal. She started to put down her magazine and greet them, but Louise motioned her to wait. Brendan and Max were facing away from the entrance, bent over something. As they got closer, Louise could see that it was an activity book with mazes and other exercises.