Jack paused and then nodded. “I do.”
She slipped out the card and stamped the ink pad. There was still the chance that this test would fail.
Jack held out his hand. “Stella, give me the stamp. You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“You said you believe I can handle it.” He reached for the stamp, but she pressed it toPeter Pan’s card before he could stop her. “Now what? Find sunlight?” She glanced at the back door and saw rays of yellow light pouring through the windows. She rushed toward the door with the sounds of Jack following her. She shoved open the back door and held the book out into the light as though extending an offering to a sun god. The ink date glittered and shivered on the paper. “What happens now? Do I say something like, I wish Peter Pan was—”
“Stop!” Jack demanded. The back of Stella’s neck tingled as though she stood too near exposed electricity. “You can’t bring him back. He was just here.”
“What?” she asked.
“You can only bring out characters once a year,” Jack said.
“So... you can only be here for two weeksonce a year? Who made up these rules?” Why did that cramp her heart?
Jack reached slowly for the book. “That’s right.”
She slidPeter Panfrom Jack’s reach and asked, “What about Captain Hook?” She stared at the date stamped in blue ink. The ink darkened to an obsidian color. She waited but nothing happened.
Had she gotten the process out of order? Maybe she should try again. Even though an uneasy feeling skirted beneath her skin, she returned to the circulation desk and tossedPeter Panonto the counter. She grabbedRobinson Crusoe, propped it open, and slipped out the library card.
“Any other ridiculous rules you care to share before I test again?”
Jack stood behind her and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I should stop you, but some lessons you need to learn the hard way. Go ahead and invite another friend. You’re going to have quite a mess at the end of the day.”
Stella stampedRobinson Crusoe’s library card and carried the book to the back door. She held it in the sunlight. “Robinson Crusoe, do you want to be my friend?” The ink shimmered and deepened in color. Again, nothing happened.
As she returned to the circulation desk, she turned in a full circle and saw no fictional characters wandering around, no mysterious people lurking near the bookshelves. There was some relief in knowing that there were limits to what was possible.
But a small part of her had wanted to believe in Jack’s crazy story about a magical ink pad and stamp. She wanted to believe that she could bring the fantastical into her own world. Arnie had obviously done it, hadn’t he? Maybe she lacked the ability or the capacity to use the magic.
Her face heated with embarrassment. She must look like a naive nitwit to Jack. She went back to the circulation desk and droppedRobinson Crusoeon top ofPeter Panwith a sinking feeling weighing on her. She slammed the ink pad shut and shoved the library cards back into the books. After tossing the library stamp into its box along with the ink pad, she roughly returned everything to the bottom drawer and out of sight.
“For a second, I believed your story about the hocus-pocus ink pad. Maybe Arnie is good enough to do something special, but, big surprise, I’m not.”
Jack gripped the back of his neck. “Just wait, Stella. You’ll see what you’ve done. And Arnie won’t be here to help you.”
She held open her hands and motioned to the library around her. “There’s so much chaos in here right now.” As soon as she said the words, the hairs lifted from the back of her neck and on her scalp. She darted her gaze around the library, but nothing—other than her heartbeat—had changed.
“Your sarcasm is not amusing,” Jack said. “You’ll be eating crow before you know it.”
Unease slinked around her, and Stella smoothed her hands down her skirt. “I’m going to go see Arnie.” She grabbed her purse. Beneath her sandals, aqua words rose up from between the floor tiles like water pushing up from an underground spring.Attraction. Hope. Anticipation.Her eyes widened. Would the embarrassment never end? She lifted her gaze to Jack’s face. He appeared as flustered by the words as she was.
She blurted, “I have no idea what those words mean.”
“I have an idea,” he said quietly.
Stella clenched her jaw. “Maybe it would be best if you aren’t here when I get back.”
Jack’s wounded expression created a swift desire to retract her words.
“And where should I go, Stella? You know I can’t leave the library.”
The aqua words waved across the floor between them and crashed onto Jack’s shoes before disappearing.
“Can’t you go back into your book?” Was that what she really wanted? After all these years of dreaming about Jack Mathis and finally being able to talk to him, she was telling him to leave? Maybe it would be better if he left since she’d made a fool of herself. He’dhaveto leave soon anyway.
“It’s not that easy,” Jack said. Then he walked away from the circulation desk.
