Marian the Librarian #9

This story is #9 in a series;
the previous 8 reside at Denim-Blues ~ Figments.

Adventure #9

Chapter 1

Marion danced into the library Monday morning. It's hard to do the cha-cha in a tight skirt, Henny thought. Or maybe it was a rhumba. "I didn't know you could dance."

"We need music in here," Marian said, as she twirled herself behind the circulation computer. "I can't see why anyone would object to a little background music. Some South American rhythms, maybe."

"You're cheerful this morning. I thought you'd be unhappy your fella left."

Marian beamed. "Oh, but I had such a wonderful time while he was here. I'll have to tell you about it." She started to hum "I Could Have Danced All Night", and twirled herself around in a sort of a big band circle this time. "PLUS.....I applied for that job over at the newspaper, and they called this morning, and said I was hired, and so now I'll be too busy to mope."

"Are you leaving??? Marian.....how could you do that and not even tell me?"

"No, no.....I'll still be here. It's just a little job, something to do when, you know, when I'm sitting back in my office with nothing to do. You know - I don't know very much about computers....."

Henny was shocked to hear that from Marian. It was true, but she didn't think she'd ever hear her admit it just that way.

".....and you don't like me to help you with the books....."

That was certainly true.

".....and the bookkeeping gives me a headache....."

Along with everybody else, after Marian is finished with the records.

".....and the rest of the library stuff I don't really like to do.....so.....if there aren't any patron relations or discipline problems to handle, I get a little bored.....sometimes...SO-" Marian grinned. "I'm going to be writing a column for the Interrogative ("the newspaper that asks more questions than it can possibly answer") once a week. It should be fun!"

And she danced back toward her office. Henny's mouth hung open for a moment, then she hurried after her boss.

"We already do a library news column."

"Yes, I know." Marian rolled her eyes. "This won't be as boring as that."

"Well - what else are you qualified to write about?"

Marian grinned again. "It's going to be an advice column. Miss M's Advice on Love, Marriage and Everything Else Interesting."

"Oh dear."

"Hurst Hoober is the editor now, you know, and I asked him -Hurst- what if I don't get any letters about anything interesting, and he said I could write the letters, too! Think how much fun that could be."

Henny thought about that.

"But I'm supposed to try to answer some of the real letters first, because people like to see their letters in the paper. So I want you to write one, and I'll put it in the paper."

Henny shook her head. "I don't have anything to write about."

"Sure you do. You must. Doesn't that chubby fella you moon over all the time have some faults? Ask me what to do about 'em. And I'll tell you, but in the paper. See?"

Henny's eyes narrowed. "First of all - he's NOT chubby!! He's just right! And second of all - I like him just the way he is! And thirdly - I can handle it myself! And fourth - "

"Ok, ok, don't get in a tizzy. I've got a few questions to start with. Don't worry about it."

" - it isn't anybody else's business, and I don't want to see it in the newspaper!!"

"I said ok. Ok. Forget about it."

Henny clenched her fists and swept out of the room.

"Hm, I wonder what's going on there?" Marian thought about it for a moment with her brow furrowed in compassion for her friend....and then, "Oh, well, not my business," and opened up the first letter to Miss M. It was actually addressed to Mr. Heartache, and that was distracting, so she scribbled that part out before she started reading.

"Dear scribblescribblescribble,

My 18-year old son lives with me, and he insists on bringing home Men's Magazines, you know, the kind that have naked women in photographs on the cover and inside. He sits in the living room when I'm trying to watch television, and looks at them, and it's very annoying, when I'm trying to watch Lawrence of Arabia, to be flashed by boobs and er, youknow. I've asked him to stop, and then I ordered him not to bring the magazines in my house, but he says it's his house, too, and he can do what he wants. My friend says I'm getting all upset about nothing, that boys will be boys, and pretty soon he'll have his own house, and then I'll wish I'd been nicer to him so he will want to visit me. Should I make him behave? And how? He's bigger than me.

Disgusted but Diminutive"

Marian smiled. This was going to be easy.

The library was quiet all morning. Henny was forced to reconsider her earlier dismay; if it kept Marian in her office and out of everyone's hair, the column might be a good thing. And surely, surely, Mr. Hoober wouldn't print anything that was less than helpful. Like as not, Marian's answer to problems would be to install a dance floor. And that would be the end of her journalistic career.

Marian emerged about noon. "What did you bring for lunch, Henrietta? I've got a fruit salad here I'd be willing to share."

"Mike made a pot of Bulgarian meatballs with sauerkraut and tomatoes last night, and I brought some of that. And biscuits. And he warmed it up for me this morning, and popped it in a thermos to keep it warm."

"Mm-hmm. Really? Wow. ....Do you like Bulgarian meatballs?"

Henny blushed. "Of course I do," she said stoutly. "Who wouldn't?"

"Uh-huh. Ok. Well, go get your meatballs, and I'll tell you about the reception." Marian pulled the "WE'RE EATING LUNCH" sign out of the drawer and placed it on the counter.

"Wait! Wait! Miss Marian! Let me-" A young man with dusty blonde hair hanging in his eyes rushed up to the counter and slammed an oversize book about the art of the Restoration in Siberia on the counter in front of her. "I didn't notice the time, and I have to go back to work.....can you check me out before you have lunch?"

Marian tsked. "You know what happens when we make exceptions? Then everybody thinks we should make exceptions for them as well. Then pretty soon the only exceptions are the rules."

He looked confused. "Is that a yes?"

"No."

"Please!"

"Well.....I suppose I could - this one time - since you're an art lover." She typed his name into the computer - Bradford Pitless - ran the book under the scanner, and held it out to him.

"Oh....I'm not going to read it. My girlfriend needs something heavy to press the hemp flowers we picked the first time we made out, and I told her I'd find something, and if I don't, she's gonna think I don't love her."

He grabbed the book. Marian refused to let go. He pulled, she pulled back.

"If you think -" she gave a mighty yank, and pulled it out of his grasp, "- I'm going to let you preserve illegal plants in one of the few, quite rare books about -" she turned the book to see the title, "- Siberian art so your dubious girlfriend will sleep with you again.....you're out of your small mind."

"But - but - I have my library card." He held it up. "You have to let me check it out."

She snatched his card out of his hand, and ripped it in half. "There, that solves that problem. Go steal a couple of bricks for your girlfriend's weed."

She turned away, and put the book on the returns cart. "I think I've found my calling, I really do. Solving other people's problems is so easy."

She watched Henny pick at her meatballs for a few minutes before offering her a slice of peach. Henny accepted gratefully.

"That smells a little....odd. What exactly goes in Bulgarian meatballs, anyway?" Marian asked.

Henny shrugged. "Beats me. I wish he'd stick to Betty Crocker. I'm just not sure those Goth cookbooks can be trusted."

"I see. So he's taking up cooking?"

"He's on vacation. He watched tv for three days, then he took the vacuum apart, and then he cleaned the basement. It was after that that he started cooking. Yesterday he said he was thinking of quitting the computer shop and getting a job in a diner." Henny sighed and took the grape off Marian's fork. "Tell me about the reception. Did you eat?"

Marian's face softened; a glow of happiness makes a world of difference in the face of a woman of a certain age. Henny smiled back.

"They served some really strange looking things.....I asked about the first thing, then decided if I asked what the others were, I wouldn't be able to eat a thing."

"What was the first thing?"

Marian made a face. "Some kind of a sea.....bug. I don't know, it looked pretty gross, but I think I could have eaten it if I didn't know what it was."

Henny nodded, and fished a chunk of banana out of Marian's bowl with her fingers.

"It was ok that I didn't eat a lot. You wouldn't want your stomach to pooch out before the dancing."

"No." Henny reached.....Marian stuck a plastic fork in her hand. She stabbed a cherry.

"It was just lovely. They had a big ballroom, but then there was a terrace. Dancing together under the stars, with the quartet playing....it was the most wonderful thing." Marian paused to let Henny stab some more fruit. "You must be hungry."

"Mm-hmm. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Another pause. "The ambassador tried to look down my dress."

"The nerve," Henny said around the piece of apple in her mouth.

Marian handed her the bowl. "No, it was ok. I got to swirl indignantly away in the arms of the most handsome man in the world. It's too bad we couldn't stay longer."

"Did Terry have to go somewhere?"

"Nooo....it was just because of the little thing with the dog." Marian waved her hand. "So we picked up a hamburger and went back to the hotel." The glow was back. "I had a wonderful weekend."

"What dog?"

"Oh....the ambassador's wife had this dumb looking hairy little dog. I don't know where the cat came from."

"What cat?"

"I don't know. I just said, I don't know where the cat came from. It was just a cat."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"You mean with the dog?"

Henny rolled her eyes.

"Well, it's not a big deal. We were outside, you know, and I guess there must have been a bug on the back of my dress, probably a moth or something....because the cat came streaking from the bushes, jumped on my skirt and dug it's claws into my.....thigh. Suddenly. So I screamed - well, anyone would, wouldn't they? And the dog jumped out of Mrs. Ambassador's arms, and began yapping at the cat. I tried to turn around to see the cat....and of course since he was hanging on my skirt, I couldn't.....actually, I was batting at him, and trying to shake him off.....and he must have gotten his claws stuck, or maybe because of the screaming, he was too scared to let go, or something. And the dog was jumping at me, trying to get the cat. And then I tripped over a potted plant." She shrugged. "That's really all it was. We offered to take care of any expenses involved."

"What kind of expenses?"

"Well....for disposing of the dog. I mean, someone offered to get the vet, but that was just a waste of time."

"Oh dear."

"It was ok. I liked the hamburger better anyway. And he knows the best games." Her smile would have been gratifying had her escort been there to see it - the contented smile of a woman remembering the best of everything.

Henny looked puzzled. "You mean....like air hockey? Ping pong? What kind of games do they have in a hotel?"

"No, silly.....like.....Monster From Under the Bed. Or.....Blind Man's Buff. Or in this case, Blind Woman's Buff."

"I thought it was Bluff. Blind Man's Bluff."

"No, that's a different game. And we played.....um.....Who's Your Daddy? And....um....." Marian blushed. ".....Marian's Been a Bad Girl. Although that one was hard...er, difficult to play correctly because Terry kept laughing."

"Oh." Henny looked deep in thought. "I don't think I know how to play those games."

"I bet Chubs does. You'll have to ask him."

Henny's face turned red. "If you don't stop calling him Chubs....I'm going to.....to.....slap you silly!"

Henny herself was aghast to realize she'd almost said, "kill you" instead of "slap you silly"; but she was too angry to worry about it right now. "He's not overweight, and even if he was, it's not any of your business! You're not Twiggy yourself, you know. Does anybody comment on your weight? Does anybody call you names?"

"Henny - I didn't mean anything by that. You know I like Mike. It's just.....teasing. Sort of."

"No, it's not! It's not nice."

"I'd never call him that to his face."

"It doesn't matter; he hears about it anyway. Because you call him that, and other people hear you....somebody at the bowling alley called him Chubs the other day, and then somebody at the computer shop. Now he wants to learn to cook and stay in the kitchen all the time. And make Bulgarian meatballs, just because the recipe came with a picture of a goth girl with big boobs."

"Well, why doesn't he just lose weight?"

"Because he doesn't HAVE to lose weight! He's not fat! He likes big clothes, but without them.....he's not fat! He's muscular. He's sturdy. Even if he was overweight, it isn't your place to say anything, you're not his mother! He's fine just the way he is. You just leave him alone."

"You're certainly passionate about this, aren't you? What a thing to get upset about."

"I am! It's important. If you l-l-love somebody, you don't want his feelings hurt. At least I don't." She was almost in tears.

"Ok." Marian got up and put her arm around Henny. "Don't cry. I don't have to call him that. I can call him, I don't know, Geekboy, or something."

"Arrggh!!"

"Ok, ok, I was just joking! Although 'Mike' is really pretty boring, don't you think?"

"It's his name!"

Marian stepped back. "I rest my case."

Henny steamed all afternoon. Marian caught her dumping the meatballs down the toilet, but wisely decided not to say anything. Luckily Henny was the one to discover later that the toilet was plugged, and Marian was glad she hadn't said anything, 'cause that meant it wasn't her problem. At all.

When someone Marian had never seen before (and she was glad she didn't know him, he looked dusty and sort of.....Western) made the mistake of loudly asking what all the commotion (she supposed he meant the yelling, swearing and screeching from the back) was about, Marian fixed him with a murderous glare; a dagger of a look, a glance of pointy steel, that should have caused extreme repentance and severe bleeding. When he merely looked inquiringly at her, she said, "It's library business," in a voice as much like an icicle as she could make it.

He looked back over his shoulder, and said loudly to his companion, "It ain't nothing!"

Marian shuddered. Unwashed and uneducated he might be (for some reason those kind of people end up in the library sometimes and no one knows why), but that was no excuse for bad grammar. Or for speaking loudly in a place of quiet study and contemplation. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but before she could, his friend said, "Hold it down, Charlie, we're in the library. We wouldn't want these fine women to think we don't have any manners."

"Charlie" stopped chewing on whatever he was chewing, and pursed his mouth.

"If you spit on the floor," Marian said menacingly. "I'm going to use your guts for garters."

The other man chuckled, and said, "I think maybe you should wait outside, while I talk to this lovely lady."

Definitely.....Western. A little rough looking, as the other man was. But cleaner. A black hat, a black coat, black boots; a bit of a Southern accent, and some manners. Interesting.

"How long you gonna be?" Charlie asked.

"Now, how'm I supposed to know that? You gotta stop asking me that, brother. I'll be done here when I'm done."

Charlie muttered all the way out the door, but at least he went.

"I have to apologize for my associate," the man in black said. "He didn't have the benefit of gentle company when he was a boy, and so consequently he has no idea how to act around a lady."

Marian blinked. This refined behavior was unexpected from someone....Western. She looked into his clear green eyes, felt herself being drawn inside that gaze....until the banging from the back room intruded. The bathroom door slammed. Henny stormed out, grabbed her purse and said, "I'm going home!"

And she left without a backward glance.

The regular patrons, seeing the assistant librarian leave, and realizing there was now no buffer between themselves and the head librarian, that they were, in fact, alone with her, threw down their newspapers and followed. Their procession bore a resemblance to a hasty retreat.

Five minutes, and the library was clear of everyone except Marian and the stranger....

He looked around. "Was it something I said?" And smiled.....a charming, slightly mischievous smile; that sent a shiver of electricity right down to Marian's toes. Or someplace. (Not real electricity, of course, she wouldn't be much good for anything afterwards if he electrocuted her, it was actually more of a...mm, a frisson. One of those lovely French things. Marian loved French things.)

"I love your hat," Marian said. (Afterwards, she wondered why she'd said that, because until she said it, she hadn't noticed his hat much at all, except for the black part.) "It's so....Western. I didn't know Percival's Wild West Show was going to be at the fair this year. Are you an actor in that? What part do you play? You don't look much like Wild Percival."

Babbling. She was babbling. Stop it.

He tilted his head. Took a minute, to think about it, she supposed, although why you'd have to think about a question like that, Marian didn't know. Ought to be easy; you either were or you weren't.

He leaned over the counter. She leaned toward him.

"I'm the outlaw," he said.

His grin certainly ought to be outlawed. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth, and lingered, then dropped still farther to the hint of cleavage that peeped from behind her blouse.

Marian felt feverish. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I think I'm coming down with something." She'd like to go down with something - he was on the other side of the counter, so she couldn't check out the something she wanted to know about - but of course she couldn't say that. She put her hand to her forehead - his fingers were already there.

"Now that would be too bad; I was hoping to spend a little time here in this excellent library. And the company of the librarian turns out to be one of the chief attractions. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you?"

"Oh.....no....Mr.-"

"Wade."

"Wade," Marian whispered. Wade. She couldn't look away.....she thought she could see the reflection of her heart beating in his eyes.....Or it could have been a faulty fluorescent light bulb flickering overhead, but she hoped not, because that wouldn't be nearly as romantic.....and she didn't like having to climb up on ladders to change the bulbs.....

"And your name, pretty one.....?" He'd taken her hand without her noticing....he turned it palm up and rubbed his thumb along the lines there, all of them....she noticed that.

"Mott. Ms. Mott," Marian breathed. "You can call me Marian."

"Marian. Falls on the ear like music. It's too bad I can't spend more time here, I do believe I like this little town."

"Are you leaving?"

He nodded. "Today. Right after we conclude our business here." He smiled broadly again. "In and out, as they say."

"Oh...yes....in and out....." Dang it. He wasn't as handsome as Terry, but then who is? Terry was gone and not likely to be back for months; Wade was here, and charming, and seemed interested. Not much of a decision to make....but he was leaving. Dang it. She'd have to work fast.

Well, she could do that. When fate throws you a plum, it would be stupid to let it fall on the ground.

"I love your hat," she said again. "Why don't you take your hat and coat off, and maybe I can rustle up some refreshment." She felt clever, saying "rustle up" to someone so.....Western.

He sobered. Paused....came around the counter and approached her....looked into her eyes as he slid his jacket off his shoulders, and handed it to her. She tossed it in the direction of the chair.....mesmerized.....

He removed his hat, held it in his hand, and ran the fingers of the other hand through his hair..... Marian knew something good was about to happen.....sometimes you can just feel it in your bones....or somewhere.....and she knew he knew she knew it.....

It was going to be glorious, he was that kind of man, the kind that can take you higher in the realms of pleasure than you thought you could go.....she knew what was going to happen next, she didn't have to close her eyes to imagine it, he was going to put his hat down, and hold out his hand.....she would take it, they would come together in a rapturous implosion....IMplosion? was that right? Sounds pretty geeky. Sorta in the same vein as cold fusion and black hole formation....and EXplosion would obviously be too messy.....

....ok, never mind....they would wrap their arms around each other in a wild, desperate embrace, and when their lips met -

"Boss!!"

Dang.

The uncouth 'associate' rushed in. "Boss, we gotta go! Now!"

"Are you sure? Is it set up already?"

"Yep. Just waitin' on you."

Mr. Wade turned back to Marian. He must have seen the dismay on her face - as he settled his hat back on his head, he reached for her, grabbed her around the waist and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll come back," he said.

"Boss! Come on!"

"When?"

"I don't know when, but I will." And he strode out the door, away from her, but hopefully, not out of her life forever......

"Dang, dang, dang. I should have locked the doors. I know better than that, too."

Wait - his jacket was on the floor. She snatched it up, thought about running to the door and waving it at him....and then changed her mind. She held it up in both hands, examined it, rubbed the lapel against her cheek, and then buried her nose in the lining, breathing deep.

"Oh, man," she murmured. She didn't open her eyes for a full thirty seconds....then shivered. Not the nasty kind of cold and rainy shivers, but the excellent kind of eyes closed shivers. "This is definitely going home with me."

She hadn't gotten more than a tantalizing hint of the tasty Mr. Wade (actually he didn't even use his tongue when he kissed her, so a good smell is about all she got from him in person, as well), but she knew she wanted more. Keeping the jacket was not nearly as good as having the guy that had come in it.....but so much better than nothing.

And so it goes.

Marian had heard that phrase somewhere a few weeks ago; now that she was a journalist, she was entitled to steal it, and use it. It seemed to fit her situation.

She wondered if it would be possible to work it into one of the answers to the letters next week.

Life is a funny old thing, she thought as she dropped off her column the next day. Not a box of chocolates.....the thing about a box of chocolates is, while they might be a little different on the inside, they all are, after all, still all chocolates. It's not like you have pinto beans alongside the maple truffle. Or snails. They're all pretty much alike - brown with stuff on the inside.

Even if it's not like chocolates, it's still funny. You might think you have a reason to be sad, or whine.....and then something else will come along. You just have to be able to take hold of an opportunity when you see one. And lock the doors first so he can't get away.

And it helps if you're in the library.

Marian cut her first column out of the newspaper and posted it on the bulletin board in the entryway for everyone to see and ask why it was there.....and here it is:

(The newspaper that asks more questions than it can possibly answer)

pg. 3

Miss M's Advice for the Confused
On Men and Other Interesting Creatures,
Love and Marriage,
and
Everything Else Worth Talking About

Dear Miss M,

I have a real problem with my father-in-law. Ever since my mother-in-law passed away, he has been spending a great deal of time at our house. I don't begrudge him that, I know he must be lonely, but he insists on helping me in the kitchen. He takes the knife away from me when I'm chopping vegetables and does it himself, he seasons the sauce after I've already done that, he stands at the range and stirs the potato soup. Every time I start to do something, he comes up behind me and takes over. It's really getting on my nerves. I know he's just trying to help. I don't know how to nicely tell him I want to do it myself. What should I do?

Disgruntled in Da Kitchen

Dear Disgruntled,

You're kidding, right? Go find yourself a good book and read until he calls you for supper.

Dear Miss M,

Disgusted but Diminutive

Dear Disgusted,

First - your friend doesn't have to live with your young hoodlum, so her advice is worthless. Second, unless he is paying your house payment, the house belongs to you. But all of that is irrelevant. Your main problem is how to get your way when he's bigger than you are.

Stop talking-he doesn't care what you want. Action is what the situation calls for. It's important with children to be consistent, so once you decide on a course of action, be sure you follow through every single time.

Here's what you do: go to the local dollar store and buy one of those lighters with the extension for lighting candles. Buy three. The next time he opens one of those magazines in the living room, set it on fire. After two or three times, he may try to keep the magazine out of your reach. In that case, let the lighter accidentally droop and light those baggy pants I'm sure he's wearing. Or the chair. I guarantee you, after a few times, even the densest of boys will keep his magazines out of your presence. You will be able to watch Lawrence in peace.

Should you decide you want to pursue ridding your house of them entirely, take the lesson to the next level and set the magazines on fire in his room. Along with the bed he's lying on while he's "reading" them. He'll get the idea.

PS. Ask your friend, why would you want an inconsiderate young hoodlum like that to visit you? You'll probably be glad when he moves out. And if you keep setting his possessions on fire, he might just do that.

You can write and thank me care of the Interrogative.

Dear Miss M,

My neighbor's cat really likes to use my flower beds as a bathroom. Every time I go out to work in the anemones, I have to clear the sh*t out of the way first. Plus the extra nitrogen is turning the leaves of my dianthus brown. My neighbor refuses to do anything about it. Have you heard of anything that works as a cat repellent that will not kill my plants?

At the End of My Leash

Dear Leash (oo, clever),

Buckshot works well.

Send your questions to Miss M care of the Weekly Interrogative, the newspaper that knows it can't keep up with daily news and doesn't try!

FINIS