Confusion crosses his features. He searches my eyes, then his gaze dips down to my lips. He seems to question himself, his entire body stilling. But then he immediately lands on an answer to his unasked question as his fingers press into the base of my skull, pulling me toward him.
As soon as our lips touch, my brain stills. A quiet hum settles between my ears as my senses override the downward spiral of my previous emotions. Julien’s lips are soft and warm, and the spicy scent of his aftershave is heady. His hands are firm as they frame my face, holding me in place, communicating that he’s got me. That he’s not going anywhere. That he’s strong and capable and I can rely on him. That I’m no longer doing this thing alone.
He tilts my head, asking me to follow his lead. To trust him. I’m no longer thinking, only feeling, and relax further into him in response. He kisses me like I imagine he commands a boardroom, confident and capable. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Every caress of his lips, every stroke of his touch, is doing exactly what I asked him to do.
Julien is quite literally kissing away my sorrows.
31
No one can be sad when they’re circled by happy, excited children. Little cherub faces shining up at you with sticky smiles and tinkling laughter. Which is why I’ve made my entrance into the Little Creek library precisely five minutes before preschool story time. Just long enough to swoop in, see what books either Evangeline or Hayley have prepared, and convince them to let me take over the read-aloud for the day.
Young voices hum in the otherwise quiet library as soon as I enter. There’s gentle shushing reminders from parents to use inside voices, but three- and four-year-olds are difficult to contain. I spot Daisy at the corner of the reading rug, spinning in a tight circle with her arms outstretched. Malcolm sits on his mom’s lap while he does a peg puzzle. The twins, Grace and Faith, have the blocks out and are trying to see how tall of a tower they can build. Daisy’s spinning gets wider, and she knocks into the tower, the blocks tumbling down.
It’s chaos, but it makes my heart lift just a tiny bit out of the slog of self-pity it’s been stuck in since this morning. I’m not unlike the little bird that Julien rescued from the mud all those weeks ago, except I haven’t gotten the strength back inmy wings yet to fly again. But maybe here, surrounded by my library kids, I’ll be able to shake off the glum.
“Martha!” Evangeline exclaims as she steps out of the closet where we store the children’s department materials. “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.” She sets down the felts in her hand and gives me a quick hug.
I squeeze her back, glancing down at the felts. There’s a giant mitten, a man and woman, and an assortment of woodland creatures. Looks like she’s chosenThe Mittenby Jan Brett as one of the read-aloud books.
“I was just about to start story time, but stick around and we can catch up after, all right?”
“Miss Martha, you’re back!” Daisy spots me and sprints my way, not slowing down enough to prevent running headfirst into my legs like a battering ram. Her arms come around my knees like a lasso, and I’m in danger of toppling over like the block tower. She peers up at me with her guileless eyes. “I missed you. Why’d you go away?”
I run my hand over one of her pigtails, my heart squeezing. “I missed you too.” Bending at my waist, I whisper into her ear, “Can you be a helper and tell everyone it’s time to start and to meet at the rug?”
She nods and marches away as if she’s just been given the most important job in the world.
My smile is wobbly as I watch her scampering form before turning back to Evangeline. “Actually, would you mind if I took over story time today?”
“Really? That would be amazing.” She sags a bit as she says this. “We’ve been so backed up since you’ve been gone. I’m not exaggerating when I say this place can’t function properly without you here.” She picks up the book and felts and presses them into my hands. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. I have a cart of books that won’t reshelve themselves.”
Evangeline walks away, and I move to the front of the readingrug and take a seat in the rocking chair. A small sea of upturned, smiling faces greets me. I know in my heart I’m right where I need to be. Even if I don’t get my job back, I’m not going to give up on these kids. The board of trustees can take away my paycheck and reduce the resources I can work with, but they won’t prevent me from showing up and volunteering my time.
“Hello, boys and girls,” I say in the voice I reserve for story time. Engaged, inviting, and exciting. A tone to rival even Blippi or Ms. Rachel in its enthusiasm. “I’m so happy to see you. Today, we are going to be readingThe Mittenby Jan Brett. How many of you wear mittens when it’s cold outside?”
Faith and Grace’s hands shoot up. “Mine are pink,” Grace says.
“Mine are purple,” chimes in Faith.
“I wear gloves,” Malcolm says from the back of the rug.
I nod like this is the most important thing I’ve heard in my life. “Have any of you ever lost one of your mittens or gloves?”
“I lost one of mine, but then we found it in the couch cushion,” Faith says.
I nod again. “Those couch cushions can get very hungry. They like to eat lots of things.”
Faith giggles.
“Look at the cover.” I hold the book up. “What are some things that you see?”
“A bear!” Daisy shouts.
“A fox!” adds Malcolm.
All the kids start yelling out the animals on the cover.
“And this?” I ask, pointing to the small white mitten that almost gets hidden in the snow.
