“You’re still wearing the bunny ears.”
“Oops.”
I took them off, tossed them in the tote bag, and went to work.
Chapter Nine
According to the case notes, a Burner had yanked Elizabeth Bennet out of her book right before her wedding to Mr. Darcy, hoping to thwart one of the happiest endings in all of Romancelandia. Turned out, Elizabeth enjoyed modern life a little too much and had gone on the lam.
And it was my job to put her back where she belonged before every copy ofPride and Prejudiceturned into a blank book.
Luckily Sunset Beach wasn’t far from Fort Meriwether. Koshka and I headed out of town and took Highway 101 south. The 101 is a famously scenic highway but not so much the stretch I was on. We passed Best Buy, Walmart, the grocery store…hardly the stuff of postcards. At least the sun valiantly still shone at the edge of the sky, though clouds threatened and the light seemed gray and tired.
I put my foot on the accelerator. Five minutes later, we were going slightly above the speed limit. “Good thing you’re cute,” I said to my sluggish, elderly car, which was also something I said to Koshka at least once a day.
The sun dropped even lower as I made a right turn off the highway. This was an unusual street. It appeared to be like any other West Coast country lane. A few weather-beaten houses. A few small businesses. A trailer park. Then…sand. A little sand at first and then piles of it appeared on either side of the road. The farther west I drove, the moresand we saw. You got the feeling that if you kept going, you’d drive off the edge of the world.
And you would be right about that.
I pulled off the side of the road at the entrance to Sunset Beach. With the little binoculars I kept in the glove box, I scanned for Elizabeth Bennet. No luck. Had she sensed me coming and run for it?
Ah, got her. In the distance I spied a head of dark hair bobbing through the dunes. I knew at once it was her. She gave off pure main character energy. I could confront her right now, but I worried she’d run off. I’d wait for her to reach the edge of the water where she’d have nowhere to run or hide.
Koshka meowed loudly, a distress signal.
“What is it, comrade?” I asked, but then I saw what had upset him.
On the side of the road sat a Little Free Library designed to look like a miniature beach house. The shelves were empty, and the glass in the doors was broken.
Ninety percent of the time when a community library or a free library is empty, it’s because someone took all the books without putting any back. Annoying, but human. But the other ten percent? Sabotage.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” I told Koshka. “I’ve got this.”
The people on this route lived miles away from the nearest bookstore or library. This wasn’t some ritzy beach community. Seasonal workers made their homes in the trailer park we’d passed, eking out a living on tourist tips. Maybe this little broken box was their only easy access to books.
I had about two minutes until Elizabeth Bennet reached the beach. Plenty of time. Inside my trunk I found the box labeledEmergency Use Only.
I grabbed one copy of Kurt Vonnegut’s antiwar novelSlaughterhouse-Five,named for the actual slaughterhouse he’d taken shelter in during the Allied firebombing of Dresden when he’d served in the U.S. Army in World War II. Then a copy of Maya Angelou’s powerful and poetic memoir,I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.In honor of Oregon’s native son, Ken Kesey, I also grabbedOne Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,and for Portland’s favorite daughter, Ursula K. Le Guin’sThe Lathe of Heaven.Ray Bradbury’sFahrenheit 451,of course, Margaret Atwood’sTheHandmaid’s Tale,The Invisible Manby Ralph Ellison, and alsoThe Invisible Manby H. G. Wells. For the kids living nearby, I threw inA Wrinkle in Timeby Madeleine L’Engle, because are you ever too young to start fighting the cosmic battle against evil? Finally, I added a couple classic picture books—Where the Wild Things Areby Maurice Sendak, Nikki Giovanni’sRosa,and Dr. Seuss’sThe Lorax.
An even dozen. Not much, but better than nothing.
After placing the books in the box, I shut the door and latched it, then cast a quick charm that would help protect the books from weather damage until we could replace the broken glass.
Then I reached into my pocket and drew out a small bag of what looked like blue sand but was in fact a bit of magic in pure physicalform. When sprinkled on a library (or box or bag or anything you like really), it would act to draw in books. Not just any books. The books people coming to this library needed without even knowing they needed them. Maybe a romance novel that could make a woman realize she deserved better in life than her current cruel or callous boyfriend. A bio-thriller with a scientist hero who inspires a college student to go to medical school. A silly happy funny book about a pigeon or a squid or Bigfoot that helps a child who’s lost her mother laugh out loud for the first time in months. Whatever book anyone who used this box needed would eventually make its way to these little shelves.
I sprinkled the dust over the box right as a gust of wind blew up from the ocean. Half got onto the box and half landed all over my face.
Well, if you’re going to accidentally cast a spell on yourself, the book-you-really-really-need charm is the one you want.
Now safely enchanted, this little library would never find itself empty of books ever again.
Work completed, I returned to the car and wiped the dust off my face.
“Not sure who busted up that library,” I said to Koshka as I started the car, “but stay on your toes. All eighteen of them. Let’s go.”
Soon the sand completely covered the asphalt. “Brace yourself,” I warned Koshka. My Sun Buggy was vintage, adorable, in mint condition…but wasn’t designed for off-roading. A 1974 VW Bug?Let’s be honest, it was barely designed for on-roading. But I didn’t want to lose our lady. Just ahead, the road ended. I drove past the dunes and right onto the beach (which, let the record show, is legal). As the sun began to fall, I spied a set of petite shoe prints in the wet sand.
Got you, Bennet.
