The only smell he detected now, besides books, was the warm one that always saidCaitlinto him. He focused on her, his lifeline in the sea of memories swamping him.
The current librarian appeared to be only a few years older than he was. He was dimly aware of the woman pointing them to a set of stacks on the far side of the room.
“We can find it,” Caitlin assured the woman. “Thanks.”
Holt followed her past the scarred wooden study tables and a new-looking row of digital workstations and monitors.
“All the latest gear,” Caitlin commented as they passed.
“The library certainly had nothing like those when I was a kid,” Holt said in agreement.
“Times change,” Caitlin responded and led him toward the stacks. “Did you spend a lot of time here?”
Did he? Only the best time, as it turned out. “Yes. My mother worked here part-time so I could read all the books I wanted.”
“Is that how she supported you?”
“She worked as a bookkeeper for an accounting firm a few miles from here. I drove over this way a few days ago, the day I got back from the city, but so much has changed, I couldn’t bring myself to come in here.” Something seemed to lighten within him with that admission, and the next. “I only found one friend from high school at the pizza place his family owns, but none of her friends or coworkers. No one to shed any light.”
“I’m sorry. I know this is hard.” She paused before one of a long row of wooden shelves bowed by the weight of the tomes they carried. Yearbooks. “Maybe these books will help. Look familiar?”
Not really. Here was something else that brought home how little he knew about his mother’s past. He ran a finger across the spines, studying the dates, heart sinking. “I don’t see the volume for the year she graduated.”
“What about the year before?”
Holt traced a finger across the volumes until he found the right one. He pulled it from the shelf and flipped pages. “Senior class…ah, Junior class…”
“Let me see, too!”
In another circumstance, Caitlin’s demand might have amused him, but he was suddenly awash with tension. What would they find? It was just a book, but it might hold a clue to his past. His father. His mother’s friends. He stepped to a mostly empty shelf and laid the book open on it. Caitlin crowded close as he turned pages. Then he was there. His mother’s picture all but leapt from the page. Jennifer Cooper, in a black portrait-neckline top, long blonde hair covering her shoulders. And right before her on the same row, James Coates, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, in a shirt collar a size too small, tie and suit jacket. And no other Coopers at all.
Caitlin pointed. “They did know each other. He told me,” she reminded him, “they were in the same class.”
“Apparently.” Holt’s eyes brimmed with moisture, and he looked away, determined to keep Caitlin from noticing how seeing his mother and the boy who would honorably serve his country, then become a veterinarian— after possibly becoming his father— affected him. “But it proves nothing.”
“Keep going. If they include class activities or clubs, there might be pictures of them together with other friends.”
He paged past the younger classes to the clubs and athletic team photos but found nothing, then closed the book with a dull thud and took it back to the shelf where it belonged. He didn’t know what he’d expected to find, so he couldn’t put a finger on why he felt so disappointed, but he did. “We need to talk to Doc Coates.”
“Now?”
Caitlin’s voice intruded on his glum mood, and he welcomed the distraction. “Why not?”
She glanced at her phone. “This time of day, he’ll likely be at the practice. If not, they’ll know where to find him.” Caitlin’s eyes sparkled.
With excitement or determination? Or both? Either way, Holt knew neither of them would be satisfied until they solved the riddle of the vet and his mother. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“He’s on his lunch break,” the receptionist, Rachel, told them when they arrived. “But I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Moments later, she led them back to Doc Coates’s office, along with the swarm of bees buzzing around in Holt’s gut. Now that they were in the veterinary practice, with its smells of dogs, cats, and disinfectants, Holt’s belly was less sure this course of action was a wise one. Too late.
The man Caitlin presumed to be his father stood as they entered. A half-eaten sandwich and cup of coffee sat on one side of his desk. Paperwork cluttered the center. He smiled at Caitlin, then raised an eyebrow at Holt. “Caitlin! What brings you in today?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Doc. You remember Holt Ridley? We…”
Caitlin trailed off and glanced around at Holt. Taking pity on her, he picked up the conversational thread. “We just came from the library, where we took a look at my mother’s junior-year yearbook. You and she were classmates.”
