Chapter Nine
“Nooooo.” Clara reached out from beneath the covers and swatted at her alarm clock. “Five more minutes.”
She stretched, then gasped. Everything below her waist protested: her lower back ached, her hips hurt, her legs throbbed, her feet cramped. Those four miles had left their mark all over her body.
“Epsom salts,” she groaned. She’d forgotten to buy some. In fact, her spontaneous evening with Nick precluded a bath; she’d simply tumbled into bed.
“Stupid, stupid.” she slowly heaved herself upright and penguin-waddled into her bathroom. She’d love to take the day off, but Sunday was one of their busiest days, with just her and Harry from noon till five. If only she could afford to hire another assistant—but her bottom line just wouldn’t allow that.
The Ibuprofen she swallowed dulled the pain by the time Harry backed into the shop, his wiry arms wrapped around a folded wooden contraption.
Clara looked up from the front display table, where she was adding new arrivals to the pyramid of books. “What you got there, Harry?”
“Check it out.” He set down his burden, shrugged off his jacket. “Found this in my garden shed. A bit faded, but…”
He grunted as he wrestled the thing into position. “There.” With a sweeping gesture, he grinned at the old-fashioned deck chair, its well-worn striped blue and white canvas now stretched taut.
“Another seat for customers?”
“No, silly. For the window display. You’ll see.” He got to work rearranging the front window. Ten minutes later, he’d filled the chair with paperbacks, with more peeking out of a child’s beach bucket, and still more scattered among the seashells on the display floor.
She clasped her hands and beamed. “That’s marvelous, Harry.”
“Wait, it gets better.” From his jacket pocket, he pulled a thick plastic packet. He turned his back and started to huff and puff.
“You all right, Harry?”
“Fine, fine. A benefit of all that running,” he said with a grin over his shoulder. “Strong lungs.”
Puff by puff, a shiny inflatable palm tree took shape. Harry set it behind the deck chair. “It’s too flimsy for real books, but I’ll tape some dust covers to it.” He stepped back and grinned at his creation: a perfect summer tableau filled with tempting beach reads.
“Brilliant. What would I do without you, Harry?”
With Harry’s help, Clara fielded a thin but steady stream of customers. Sundays were a popular day for browsing on their shop-lined street, and Harry’s window display certainly helped pull customers into Book Nirvana. The comforting routine kept her mind off the swirling cloud of conflicting thoughts and emotions stirred up by the new men in her life.
Shortly before closing time, a young mother came in trailing twin toddler boys. The kids made a beeline for the children’s section, a sunny corner filled with beanbag chairs in primary colors and a low table whose legs were painted like crayons. One of the boys headed straight for wooden toy box and carried an armload of plastic building blocks to the table, his cupid’s bow mouth set in a determined line. His brother stood on tiptoe to whisper something to his mother.
“Well, go ask the lady,” the young woman said. “Mama’s going to look at grownup books. I’ll be right there, see?” She pointed to the mystery aisle, then flashed a weary smile at Clara. “Jared has a question for you.”
Clara’s hand flew to her throat. The dark-haired tot reached up his softy, sticky little hand. She took it, blinking back tears, and he tugged her over toward the picture books.
She knelt beside him. “What kind of books do you like, Jared?”
He leaned his curly head against her shoulder and whispered, “Dinosaurs.”
“Well then, let’s see what we can find.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, and the little one climbed into her lap. Surprisingly heavy for such a little guy, his soft, baby shampoo-scented hair tickled beneath her chin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and a pang of longing pierced right to her center. Her child would have resembled this little guy, hers and Jared’s.
She battled to keep her voice steady and gentle as she pulled books from the shelves. “How about this one? Dino Danny Goes to the Beach.” She opened the cover, and immediately Jared’s twin scooted over and settled beside her, leaning against her side.
“I like dinosaurs too,” he declared. “‘Specially the T-Rex. Rawr!” He clawed at the air and grinned.
When the boys’ mother returned, little Jared stuck out his lower lip. “I want to finish the stoooory,” he whined.
The woman collapsed into a beanbag chair. “Go ahead. Mama will read her book until you’re finished.” She mouthed a silent “Thank you.”
Clara continued to read, her two squirmy little customers punctuating her narrative with comments and laughter.
“Look,” Jared said, “he has sand on his butt!”
“In his butt crack!” his brother chimed in, and they both giggled and bounced.
“And so, with his bucket full of seashells and his shorts full of sand, Dino Danny climbed back into his Mommy’s dino car. ‘Good-bye, ocean,’ he called out. And swoosh, whoosh, the ocean waved good-bye.” She closed the book. “The end.”
The two boys jumped up, and Jared’s brother snatched the book from her hands.
“Ah, ah, ah!” their mother interjected. “What do you say, boys?”
Both brothers sped back to Clara and hugged her, their sweaty little bodies colliding against hers with a solid thunk. Jared planted a sticky kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Book Lady.”
As Clara rang up their purchases, the boys’ mother asked, “You have kids?”
Clara kept her gaze on the cash register. She shook her head.
“You should. You’re a natural. Thanks again for the break.” She stuffed their books into her backpack, took each boy by the hand, and led them out the door.
Clara stared after them, lost in reverie and regret. She remembered holding out yet another little plastic stick to Jared, hot tears streaming down her face. “Negative again. I was so sure this time.”
His deep blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, he’d enfolded her in his warm, strong arms. “It’s okay, babe. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. If not, we can adopt. There are lots of kids out there who need families. Just have faith.”
But they’d waited too long to begin trying, devoting the early years of their marriage to building their business. And now, her chance at motherhood was gone.
Harry approached softly from behind, dropped his warm hand onto her shoulder.
“Having a hard time, eh?” His voice was raspy with emotion. “I miss him too.”
She took a deep, shaky breath. “I know you do, Harry.” She stepped out of his embrace, battling for control. Too much sympathy and she’d dissolve into a quivering mess.
But Harry wasn’t so easily dissuaded. He grasped her hand. “Clara, I know this is hard to talk about, but listen.” He held onto her, his grip warm and firm, until she met his gaze. “The anniversary is coming up. If you need to take some time off, I’ll cover for you. Or we could close the shop for a few days.”
She shook her head. “We can’t afford to close the shop. Besides,” she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, “I’d rather keep busy. At least here, I know I’m doing something useful. Crying alone at home doesn’t help me heal.”
He released her hand. “I know it’s not the same, but Eleanor left just a few weeks before our wedding anniversary. Our twentieth.” His smile was misty, his gaze far away. “I had a big surprise planned, a trip to the coast, fancy hotel, spa day, the works.” He sighed. “Anyway, I went for a long run on that anniversary, ran till my feet were bloody. Kept the crazy thoughts at bay.”
Clara squeezed his hand. “Well, I’m not in great shape like you are, but I might give it a try. Anyway, thanks, Harry. You’re my rock.”
He kissed her cheek, his bristly whiskers scratching pleasantly. “You’re not alone, Clara. I’ll be here for you.”
But Harry was seventy-four. How much longer would he want to work in the bookshop? Surely, he had other adventures planned, dreams that would take him away and leave Clara to manage things on her own.
Alone.
The shop was closed on Mondays, Clara’s one day to get away. Maybe she’d follow Harry’s example, take a run in the park, clear her head. If nothing else, the exercise would help build up her strength. Between her floundering business and her broken heart, she was going to need every bit of her strength.