Twelve Angry Librarians

I nodded, my throat too tight for me to be able to get words out. I stared down at the table through a mist of tears. Diesel meowed anxiously and put a large paw on my knee. He hated it when I was upset about anything, and this was probably the most worried or anxious I’d been in a long time.

He continued to meow and mutter while I rubbed his head. I didn’t think my attentions convinced him that all was well. I certainly didn’t feel it myself.

I cleared my throat and pulled my handkerchief out to wipe my eyes. “Let’s try to perk up.” I spoke for Azalea’s benefit as much as my own. “We don’t want to cause Laura any distress, and I know she’s already worried about how we’re taking this news.”

“I’ll try.” Azalea moved to the sink to wash her hands and, I suspected, dab her face with cold water.

By the time Laura returned a couple of minutes later, I had better control of my emotions, and Diesel had settled down by my feet. He moved over to sit beside Laura, however, when she resumed her place at the table.

“You’d best be eating something, Mr. Charlie, before you have to go back to work.” Azalea set a plate in front of me, and then placed one before Laura. “You, too, Miss Laura. You need your strength.”

Laura offered a wan smile of thanks. I looked down at my plate, my appetite nearly nonexistent. I knew, however, I needed to eat or Laura would see the lack of appetite as a symptom of distress on my part. The chicken and rice casserole, one of Azalea’s standards, was a favorite of mine. I had a bite, then another, at first having to force myself, but then my appetite revived, and I ended up eating the entire serving, along with two buttered rolls and some green beans almondine.

Diesel went off to the utility room for a snack of his own. He couldn’t have any of the casserole because it had onions and garlic in it, and both of those were no-no ingredients for cats. He did occasionally get treats from the table, but I was careful about their contents.

Azalea excused herself, after being sure we had everything we needed, and headed upstairs to clean.

Laura and I chatted about my job as interim director at the college library. Focusing on that, rather than her possible impending departure to Virginia, made it easier to get through the meal.

“So you really don’t want the job yourself?” Laura asked. “I have to say, Dad, you seem really engaged in it, and you’ve been, well, I suppose livelier is the word I’m looking for.”

I frowned. “I didn’t exactly sit around like a lump all the time before I agreed to—or rather, was coerced into—taking the job.”

“No,” Laura said. “But you were awfully quiet a lot of the time. Unless you were involved in a murder investigation, of course. With those you’re always perky.” She grinned.

“I’ve had enough of those,” I said. “I’m not anxious to repeat the experience anytime soon.” Diesel chirped loudly, and Laura and I both laughed.

“Seriously, though, haven’t you at least thought about the job?” Laura patted her lips with her napkin.

“Yes, I have.” I hadn’t discussed this yet with anyone, but I had been thinking more about the job as a permanent thing. When I first agreed to do it, I really believed I didn’t want to be a full-time library director again. And that was still true, at least partly.

One part of me, however, found the challenge interesting, not only intellectually, but emotionally as well. This was my alma mater, the college at which I had spent four wonderful, happy years and for which I maintained a strong affection. When I first went off to library school in Texas I had nourished the fantasy of returning to Athena one day and working in the college library. My wife would have been happy with that, too. Then came Sean, and not long after, Laura, and we found ourselves putting down roots in Houston. There we stayed, until my wife died and Sean and Laura had left home.

I delayed my answer to Laura’s question a bit too long, I supposed, because she said, “I can see you’ve been considering it, Dad. What would be so terrible about going back to work full-time? I’m sure they would let Diesel go to work with you still, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t take the job if he couldn’t come to the office with me,” I said without thinking clearly about the implications of my words.

“Aha.” Laura grinned.

“All right,” I said with a rueful grin. “You got me. I am thinking seriously about it. But I haven’t officially put my name in. I have to see if they would even consider me, because I have no background in academic libraries, other than as a student. My experience was all public libraries.”

“I see what you mean,” Laura said. “I guess I was thinking that running a library is, well, running a library, but there are differences whenever academia and academic types are involved.”

“Yes, and some academic institutions want the head of their library, or libraries in some cases, to have a doctorate and to have publications to their credit. I have neither of those.”