Page 40 of Chosen Path
Her obvious joy was like a sunbeam cutting through the heavy cloud that had been hanging over the house all day.
He promised, “You can explore it to your heart’s content later. But I’ve got bad news.”
She turned, wide-eyed. “What?”
“This isn’t where Doctor Larson’s files are kept.” He walked across the room and moved aside a discrete panel that matched the bookshelves. “This is.”
He walked inside and she followed. Her curiosity turned to dismay. The narrow room was more of a long hallway, accessible from both the library and the kitchen. He imagined it had once been a butler’s pantry, which explained the counter that ran along both long walls. Jammed under the counters were two long lines of metal filing cabinets. He hadn’t counted when Molly had given him a peek, but there had to be at least two dozen filing cabinets, lined up in two rows like a drab version of a color guard outside a state dinner.
“All of these?”
“Yep. And they’re filled to bursting, according to Molly.”
She looked around helplessly. “There’s not even room to drag in a chair to sit on.”
“No, it’s not the most inviting workspace,” he agreed. “I can help you carry some files out to the office. I think you’ll be more comfortable at the desk.”
She pursed her lips, considering the offer, then shook her head. “No. It’ll be more efficient if I work in here. I’ll just get one of the big pillows from the waiting room and use it as a floor cushion.”
“Are you sure?”
“I double-majored in history and library sciences, and I love working at the library. But my ultimate plan is to get my master’s degree in archival studies. This is an archivist’s dream.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your dream job. Did Molly explain Doctor Larson’s unusual filing system?”
She laughed. “Yes. I told her I’ll take notes on how to reorganize all this mess into something more searchable.”
“Like an electronic database?”
He expected her to say yes, but she shook her head. “I don’t think so. It would be a massive undertaking to digitize seventy years’ worth of patient files, and I’m willing to bet that Doc’s note-taking system evolved over the years. Any program would invariably mischaracterize some fields or miss them entirely, depending on how rigid his note-taking system was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, electronic databases are a miracle. Library science is almost entirely computerized now. And the ability to do research from anywhere in the world, that’s an incredible gift that I’m beyond grateful for. It’s made it possible for citizen scientists and researchers to access materials halfway across the globe.”
“But?”
“But progress always comes at a price, right? We trade convenience for permanence, for history, and maybe, a little bit, for humanity.” She looked down at the floor as if she were embarrassed.
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?” She raised her eyes.
He recalled the efficient, antiseptic app-based customs procedure he’d used at the Montreal Airport, then thought back to the display he’d visited during a trip to Ellis Island. The preserved, handwritten passenger manifests that told the stories of life upended for a fresh start in a new world.
“I do.” Then he remembered that those same handwritten records had been scanned and could be searched from any computer with an Internet connection. “But couldn’t they be scanned? You know, the best of both worlds?”
She eyed the two long rows of files. “They could be. Are you independently wealthy?”
He laughed at that. “No, I’m not. I’ll grab that pillow for you.”
When he returned, she was already working. She’d kicked off her shoes and was seated on the floor, each foot resting on the opposite thigh in what he recognized from his yoga and meditation practices aspadmasana,or lotus position. Her shoulders were relaxed and she was absorbed in her task, her full attention on the file in her lap. He sensed that this workwasmeditative for her. Instead of closing her eyes and focusing on her breath, she was chewing on a pen cap and focusing on the words on the page. He bent and silently placed the pillow beside her, then crept out of the room on quiet feet.
A moment later, the front door banged and heavy footsteps sounded. He hurried out of the library and closed the pocket doors behind him to muffle the noise that might reach Hope in the file room.
He met Molly in the waiting room.
“Argggh!” She ripped her scarf from around her neck and threw it toward the coat rack. It looped over a hook and hung there.
“Nice aim.”
She growled and shoved her coat down over the scarf.
