The library was quiet this morning. People were coming and going with checkouts and returns, but I was tucked away in my little corner. It was my favorite spot in all of Kettle. Well, the part
of Kettle I knew. My father kept close tabs on me whenever we were in town. Always wanted to know where I was going, what I was doing, why I was doing it, and when I would be back. Things were a little looser whenever we were in Seattle, but that was mostly because I had a driver to cart me around everywhere.
I knew the driver reported back to my father on our whereabouts.
But in Kettle, I was granted more freedoms. I could drive on my own and even go out with my brothers. But if I did, I had to be very specific with what was happening and my brothers came under scrutiny whenever we came home. So, I didn’t go out much with them. I hated subjecting them to that kind of torture whenever we would come in from dancing or hanging out at the coffee shop.
The library was my favorite place for two reasons. One, my father would let me stay here as long as I wanted for reasons I still didn’t understand. And two? It was quiet. No questions. No judgement. And certainly no risk of impropriety anywhere. I would tuck myself away in my favorite corner with the latest books the library shipped in and I would read. For hours. It was how I escaped. It was how I envisioned other lives for myself. It was how I learned about the great businesswomen and how they succeeded in their lives.
All of my education came from books. My understanding of the business world. My understanding of mathematics. My understanding of politics and history and love. All of it came from the books that surrounded me. Here, no one kept up with me. Here, no one tried to influence what I read. Here, I was allowed to make my own decisions regarding where I wanted to sit, how I wanted to sit, and what I wanted to read.
I loved the library.
But sometimes, it was shit.
Like today, for instance. Word had already circulated that I had been in a car accident. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know who started it, but everyone who saw me in my little corner came up and asked me if I was all right. If the storm had caught me off guard. They asked me all sorts of things, like what roads I had gotten lost on and what roads I needed to stay away from. It seemed that everyone in Kettle knew I had broken down somewhere and floundered during the storm.
I just hoped and prayed they didn’t understand anything more than that.
Kettle was a smaller town. It spanned the length and width of many mountains, but very few people lived here. So gossip spread like wildfire. And if you didn’t want to be caught up in it, then you didn’t come into town. Ever. But if I wanted the library, I had to come into town. Which meant I was met with people who kept interrupting me every page just to make sure I was okay.
Which was code for ‘figure out exactly what happened’.
“Miss Ava, I’m so glad you’re all right.”
I looked up from my book and stared directly into the eyes of Miss Mabel.
“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it,” I said. “It wasn’t a bad accident. The car runs just fine. The water just took me off the road a bit.”
“Do you know what road you were on?” Miss Mabel asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. I was so frantic and there was so much rain pouring down that I didn’t get a chance to look at any signs,” I said.
“That makes sense. You were probably up in those mountains anyway.”
I stiffened at her response as she sat down in the chair next to me.
“Don’t worry about it. No one’s gonna tell your father. He’s a sweet man, but we know he rules with an iron fist,” Mabel said.
“My father is a decent man,” I said.
“Spoken like a true robot,” she said with a giggle. “I’m familiar with men like your father. Mine was one of them, too.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Abides by tradition. Looms over your every move. Expects you to look and act a certain way. I hated growing up with my father.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“My favorite game was to swing around the columns of our porch out back and fantasize what it would be like to live without my father. I used to dream of owning my own home, buying my own clothes, and going to the school I wanted.”
“At least you got to go to school,” I said with a murmur.
I swallowed hard and looked up into Miss Mabel’s sparkling eyes. Mabel was a force in the community of Kettle. Her father had been the mayor for quite some time, which was a position her grandfather and her great grandfather used to occupy. Her family was well-known, well-off, and well-spoken in their manners. Her eyes were comforting and her smile was knowing. I felt that I could trust her, even though I’d only ever had a few conversations with her. She seemed to understand my circumstance more than most, and as she settled back into her chair I drew in a deep breath.
“I was never really in any trouble anyway,” I said.
“So you did get lost up there in the mountains,” Mabel said. “Don’t worry. I’ve done that more times than I could count.”