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I can do hard things.
Tatum Jayce stared at the Little River Library. The quaint brick building with its creeping ivy and worn sidewalk was her first attempt at being truly independent and free.
Everything about this was new and scary.
She’d never lived anywhere but Pennsylvania, but here she was in New Jersey, with a tiny rental cabin in a small farming town in the middle of nowhere. The air was filled with the scents of earth and sunshine, and if she didn’t get into some air-conditioning quickly, she was going to melt right on the dang sidewalk.
Releasing the death grip she had on her purse strap, she walked up to the glass front doors and pulled, unsure if the librarian’s assistant would have remembered to unlock them.
Mrs. Fielder was a sixty-something eccentric lady, who’d worked at the library for decades but had never wanted to be the head librarian. She was as charming as the library itself and full of stories about the locals. Tatum knew the kind gal had seen something in her during the interview because she’d seen the recognition in her gaze. She’d known without Tatum saying anything that she was leaving something bad.
Fleeing, more like it.
But she could do hard things.
“Good morning, it’s me, Tatum,” she said loudly into the empty library. The windows let in plenty of morning sunshine, and the air-conditioning was a welcome relief from the August heat outside.
“Hi dear, I’m in the back!”
Tatum smiled and walked to the back of the library, where a small breakroom doubled as a storage room. Mrs. Fielder was standing at the microwave, looking at a spinning mug.
“How was your first night in the cabin?” she asked, turning to smile at her.
“Quiet.”
She nodded sagely. “It’s quiet here, unless you live near one of the farms, then you’ll hear nothing but roosters and cows.”
Tatum wouldn’t have minded that, but she’d only heard birds and bugs in the woods that surrounded the cabin she was renting. She’d even done something she’d never done before—had a cup of coffee in a rocking chair on the front porch to watch the sunrise.
It had been cathartic after the last four years of her life.
How the hell had it taken her so long to leavehim?
Shaking the thoughts that were like a dark cloud about to pummel her with big, fat drops of icy rain, she set her bag in the cabinet and waited for Mrs. Fielder to fix her morning tea. Then they headed out to the circulation desk to start Tatum’s training on their system.
“I found some books for you, honey,” Mrs. Fielder said as she pulled a second chair over to the desk. She tapped a hardback book on top of a few paperbacks.
Tatum lifted it and read the title:Mysteries and Legends of New Jersey.
“Oh, thank you!”
Tatum loved reading about local legends. During her interview, when she’d told Mrs. Fielder about her personal interest in researching them, she’d mentioned there was a good collection of books related to the subject.
“You’re welcome,” she said, beaming. “You can search the online catalog as well; we do have access to every library in New Jersey and you can order books to be delivered to us free of charge. In fact, if you poke around the shelves, you might find more that will interest you.”
“I can’t wait, thank you.”
“I also know some pretty interesting things,” she said. “Like, did you know that the original owner of the feed store is rumored to have killed his wife? He ran off with a younger woman and his son took over. His grandson runs it now.”
Tatum shook her head. “I don’t know anything about Little River yet, but I’m more interested in the supernatural legends. Like the Jersey Devil.”
Mrs. Fielder pshawed. “That’s just a crazy little boy who scared people, the poor Leeds family. But Little River has its own share of legends; I think you’ll enjoy getting to know them. Now, I’m not the most techy-techy person, but I’ll do my best to help you with the computer stuff.”
Tatum preferred books to computers herself, but she was sure she’d be able to navigate the computer system easily enough. After a quick rundown of the library’s systems and the building itself, Mrs. Fielder left to reshelve books and Tatum started checking in the returned books.
As the morning stretched on and patrons walked in and out, Tatum found solace in the quiet atmosphere of the library. Books had always been her happy place.
The escape from the harsh reality of her mother’s cancer that took her when Tatum was sixteen and her father’s quick descentinto a drug-seeking addict who seemed to delight in taking everything from Tatum.
