The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend (36 page)

‘Is it your bookstore?' she asked.

‘Kind of.'

Sara hung her jacket up in the little cubbyhole and switched on all the lights. She gathered a few books to put out onto the shelves, but placed them in a pile on the counter instead and waited behind it so the girl could browse in peace. She was still standing in the doorway, looking around in fascination.

‘I'm Sophy,' she said.

The name set a little bell ringing in Sara's head, but she didn't know why. She shrugged. It would come to her eventually.

‘So you like books?' Sara asked.

Sophy nodded. A smart girl, Sara thought, and sweet. It was still raining outside, but the shop had become cosy the moment Sophy stepped into it. That was the effect a girl with straggly, damp hair could have.

‘What're your favourites?' Sara asked. ‘Do you have any?'

Sophy shook her head. She took a few steps into the shop and gazed at the shelves with a serious expression. ‘Are all these books yours then?' she asked.

‘Yeah … in a sense.' Sara paused for thought. ‘Or the town's, really. Until someone comes and buys them.'

‘Doesn't it feel sad to lose them?'

At that moment, Sara should perhaps have explained a few of the salient principles of market economics to her. That she wasn't really losing them, but exchanging them for money which she could then use to buy other things or else save in the bank or hide under her mattress, but doing so seemed unbelievably cynical and also completely unbelievable. Why would anyone prefer banknotes to books? A little bit of paper with a pathetic quote about God and a picture of a politician, over reams of paper with fantastic stories printed on them?

Sara suspected she had never really understood the principles of market economics herself.

So she took the question seriously, and thought about it. ‘No, actually,' she said. ‘I could never read every single book myself. If someone else takes them, then at least they'll be appreciated. And if you love a book, you want to share it with others.'

‘What about the books nobody wants?'

‘There's always a person for every book. And a book for every person.'

The girl flashed a smile and turned to one of the shelves at random. ‘Even for me?' she asked.

‘Sure.'

The girl seemed pleased with that answer, though didn't ask for any tips or any particular book. But she didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

‘I haven't been here since I was a little girl,' she said. ‘I hardly even remember it.'

‘Really?' asked Sara.

‘We left when I was really young but my mom's from around here. Mom always said she'd never return. It just made me more curious to see everything again.' She smiled. ‘Things you're not allowed to do always seem more interesting, don't they? I've already walked through the entire town. Twice.'

Sara smiled. So had she, when she got here.

‘Mom always said the only way she'd go back would be in a limo. And even then she would just speed right through town. Not even lower the windows. Just to see the look on all those–' She stopped abruptly.

‘All those …?'

‘It's quite rude.'

‘I gathered,' said Sara. ‘She really didn't like Broken Wheel, did she?'

‘Well, she called them inbred morons who had nothing better to do than go about judging what everyone else was doing and meddling in people's affairs.' She seemed embarrassed. ‘I shouldn't be talking so much,' she said and added politely: ‘It was nice to meet you.'

Sara smiled at her. ‘Come back soon.'

Then she was alone again and could busy herself tidying up the shop.

Sara didn't mind the rather harsh words about the town. She probably would have enjoyed watching a black, shiny limo come cruising down Main Street without stopping. No, Sara was thinking about the first part of the conversation. It had set something in motion in her brain. There was a category missing. It was true that it was the town's bookshop, yes, but most of all, it was Amy's.

Before she got to work on the cleaning, she gathered all of the books she and Amy had exchanged, along with all the pearls of Amy's book collection, and placed them together on one shelf. Louisa May Alcott came first. It was fitting. She named it AMY'S SHELF. She thought it was enough.

How could an empty bookshop get so dirty? Sara wondered as she swept the floor so that it would be clean enough to mop.

She tried not to think about Tom too much as she worked, but she couldn't stop the irritation building up in her manic cleaning. He really was being ridiculous.

It wasn't as though she had fallen for him. That could have been annoying, she could understand that. Infatuation could be unrequited, along with love and sexual attraction – they all still demanded something of the recipient. Love was selfish. It was obviously hard work, having to put up with sentimental sighs, another person's exaggerated expectations, having to keep one's balance up on a pedestal which you yourself hadn't asked for.

But she wasn't in love with him, so that was all irrelevant. What she couldn't understand was why he didn't even want her as a friend, as an acquaintance. She would be perfectly happy if they saw one another once or twice a week, if only to sit in comfortable silence for a while. So long as she got to see him.

When she gave up sweeping, and started cleaning the floor properly, she could still hear the occasional crunch of gravel beneath her feet. She sighed and was almost grateful when Jen interrupted her cleaning.

She headed straight for the counter, and so Sara put down the mop and went over to stand behind it. ‘What can I help you with?' she asked.

‘Sign here.'

She looked down at the paper in front of her.
Form 1-130
it said in the top right-hand corner.
Petition for Alien Relative
. She couldn't help but smile at legislation which likened non-citizens to extraterrestrials.

‘It's a tourist visa you have, right?'

Sara nodded. Jen pointed to a line at the bottom of the page. ‘Sign here.' She had already filled in Tom's name.
Tom Harris
.

Sara hadn't even known that was his surname. She suspected that was a bad basis for a marriage. She looked up at Jen.

She was about to say something about it when the memory of Tom's anger flashed through her. His unreasonable behaviour, the unfair and simply annoying assumption that she was somehow in on the plan.

Let him worry about Jen, she thought, and then signed her name with a dramatic flourish.

‘Wait,' she said as Jen was about to leave. Sara turned around and found the book she'd been keeping behind the counter.

The Complete Guide to Self-Publishing: Everything You Need to Know to Write, Publish, Promote and Sell Your Own Book
by Marilyn Ross and Sue Collier.

‘In case you ever want to turn that blog of yours into a book,' she said.

Jen was rendered completely speechless.

WHEN JOSH CAME
round on Tuesday evening, Caroline hadn't reached any kind of decision.

She had actually refused to think about it. Part of her was trying to argue it was best that way. That it was so obvious she wasn't going to do anything she didn't even need to think about it.

Another part of her was perilously close to admitting that the reason she hadn't thought about it was because she didn't want to hear all the reasons why nothing would ever happen between them.

With him standing there outside her door, one of the strongest feelings she had was surprise that he was actually there. She had been sure that a few days' thought would be more than enough for him to realise how insane it was to be the least bit interested in her.

The next strongest feeling was a confused kind of joy at seeing him again. When he leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, she didn't even wince.

He looked tired. A strand of hair was hanging down over his forehead, and there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. As he sank down onto the sofa, he closed his eyes briefly, as though it was the first time that day he had been able to relax. She sat down next to him and fought the impulse to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead.

He smiled at her, an open, completely relaxed smile, as though he was glad to see her and as though they were … friends. She smiled back, intrigued. Very few people ever smiled at her like they were glad to see her, or even like they were completely relaxed in her company. Friendship was good.

‘How're the wedding plans going?' he asked.

‘The plans?' she said. She obviously hadn't been paying much attention to the town lately. A shameful neglect of her duties.

She shrugged. She didn't imagine anyone would actually be missing her.

Josh seemed to have abandoned the topic already. Now he was looking at her, smiling an entirely different smile. There was a questioning gaze in his eyes. Or an invitation.

‘Caroline,' he said. She glanced at him cautiously. Oh hell. The glint in his eyes was back. ‘Don't you think it's time you kissed me?'

She stared at him.
That's not something you talk about, for goodness' sake
, she thought. Which, she had to admit, was a long way from
that's not something you do.

She stood up confusedly in order to physically escape the sudden tension between them. Josh stood up too. He seemed annoyingly calm.

But still, he made no attempt to touch her. He simply stood there, barely a foot away from her, waiting.

It was obvious that she was meant to make the next move. She almost wished he would just kiss her again so that she could avoid having to make the decision. She knew that the whole thing was wrong, but now that she actually had the chance to touch him, she couldn't really remember why she shouldn't.

Just once, she said to herself. I can touch him now, just a little interlude in my otherwise God-fearing life, and then I can go back to the church bazaar again.

She didn't quite believe herself. But she did believe she would never get another chance to touch him.

And so she simply reached out and did it. She could practically hear the blood rushing in her ears and swallowed nervously as her hand found his collarbone and moved down over his chest. She hesitated slightly at the first button on his shirt, and then undid them all, since they were hindering her.

Why shouldn't I do it?
she thought defiantly. Then she looked around as though she were afraid that someone – God? her mother? – would answer.

I might never have another chance to touch anyone.

He was still standing still, but the look in his eyes had changed. The laughter in them had disappeared, and his gaze was deeper, darker. She realised that it was desire, and that made her feel more daring.

He noticed and put his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. Even now that she had set it all in motion, it was clear that he was the one taking the initiative. He seemed older, more sure of himself. She enjoyed letting someone else take control and responded to his kiss with more feeling than reason.

‘My God,' he said, and she was inclined to agree with him.

Living with Michelle and Sophy wasn't easy. George still didn't know how long they would be staying. From what he had managed to work out, there seemed to have been an argument of some kind with the latest man. He didn't think they would be staying especially long, but just hoped he would have enough time to get to know Sophy again. He tried not to think about what would happen afterwards. It wasn't easy.

Michelle kept mainly to his room (he had been relegated to the sofa). She had brought a computer with her, which surprised him. When they were married, she had never had much of an interest in technology, but now she spent the majority of her time in front of the thing.

One day he asked if she planned on going to see anyone while she was here, and she'd treated the suggestion with contempt. ‘What? Going around making courtesy calls to the neighbours? Visiting Mom and Dad, perhaps? Some reunion that would be.'

He strongly suspected she'd married him partly to get away from them, and then left him when she realised she hadn't gotten far enough away.

He had no problem living with Michelle. In a way, he was still used to her. It was Sophy who was tricky.

He had to keep reminding himself that he couldn't have imaginary conversations with her. Once, when he'd thought he was alone, he had begun: ‘Sophy …' and then heard a surprised ‘Yeah?' from the hallway.

She was so sweet and kind. It was hard, having her back and being forced to act like a stranger. He was grateful, he really was, but he wished he could do more.

‘I went to the bookstore today,' she said as they cooked together.

He was careful not to look at her and kept his eyes firmly on the chopping board. It was the first time she had voluntarily told him anything. Normally, she waited for him to speak first. They both seemed to enjoy being quiet together. He would sometimes ask her about school, her life and her friends, and she would always reply politely, but without enthusiasm. He didn't even know where they had been living. He assumed still in Iowa, but he wasn't sure. There was a man in the picture in any case, though that didn't surprise him.

‘Did you meet Sara?' he asked.

‘Yeah,' she said. ‘She told me there are books for me out there.'

‘I didn't know you liked reading.'

‘I don't know if I do.' She smiled at him. ‘But all the books … they were so pretty, George.'

He winced slightly at the George, but he was starting to get used to it now, he really was. He wouldn't say anything.

‘She said the bookstore belonged to the whole town?'

He thought about it. ‘I guess so. But the credit's all Sara's.'

‘But does that mean some of the books are yours?'