I glare at him. It’s true, I’m not sure of the shape I’d be in if he hadn’t pulled me out of the way, but he doesn’t need to upset Marley.
A slew of panic barks from the phone and Finn holds it away from his ear, fluttering his eyes in impatience. “Mother, she’s fine. I’m fine. There’s no reason for you to come back.” He runs a hand over his face. “Yesss,” he says, giving the word too much hiss.
He can’t blame her for worrying, especially since she’s his mother. Marley never mentioned that fact when she told me who would be training me. In fact, I kind of pictured her kid young—like Rodrick’s—not my age.
Finn slams down the phone handle and it makes a chime noise when it hits the base. I wait for him to tell me what Marley said—though I’ve heard half of it. But he doesn’t. He starts straightening things around the register.
I’m annoyed that I have to ask, but I want to know. “So, what happened? What was that?”
He sighs. “An explosion at the edge of the mine just a mile from here.”
“Oh.” So not an earthquake. “Is everyone—”
“I don’t know. I’m not there. I’m not a newspaper. I don’t know if anyone was hurt.”
I bite my lip—fine, so he doesn’t want to talk about it. It was a bit traumatizing. “Are you going to wait to train me? We’ll just clean up—”
He groans—more annoyed by this question than my inquiry about what happened. Storming away, he doesn’t give me a second glance. He stomps up the red-carpeted staircase and then steps out of sight on the second floor.
My being here has really pissed him off for some unknown reason. “Fine,” I say loudly. “I can figure this out without you.” I start at the first case, kneeling on the ground and reshelving the fallen books around it.
After an hour my knees ache and I need a change in scenery—only one row of cases done. I walk back to the row of nineteenth century books. The Reading Mother lies facedown at the end of the row, books splay through the aisle in disarray. I learned with the first row of cases that the shelves are screwed into the ground—thank goodness—or they would have crushed me before the statue ever got a chance. I pick up one book—the gold binding old and tattered—Jane Austen. Just like from my dream, there’s an old library tag across the bottom. I set it on an empty shelf and move toward the statue, careful not to step on any books.
My knee pops as I bend next to the stone and touch the mother’s head. I attempt to lift her, but she won’t budge. “How could this have happened?” I say to myself. I look over the details of this creation that I’ve memorized after seeing them for a month in my subconscious. I can tell you that one child has a dimple and that the mother’s nails are short. Her gentle hands are working hands.
“Accidents happen every day—especially in dangerous places like a mine.” Finn stands behind me. Of course, he assumes I mean the explosion. “A few books fell—it’s not the end of the world.”
“I know.” I dart my eyes to him, irritated at his presence. At least his tone isn’t harsh anymore, just matter of fact. “That’s not what I meant.”
He crouches next to me. “Then what did you mean?”
I don’t answer—because I can’t. I’m not telling him about my dream. I keep my eyes on the statue.
“We can’t move her. She’s too heavy.”
“You think?” I roll my eyes, but I’m more than aware of how close he is to me.
He moves away and the air around me cools. Walking to the opposite end of the aisle, he begins to pick up books and place them back on their shelf. I do the same at the end by the statue.
“Why didn’t you move?” he asks after a minute.
“What?”
“You could have moved out of the way, but you didn’t.” Finn glances over at me. “Do you have a death wish?”
My brows furrow. “No. I did move. I slipped on a book.”
He stocks another book and straightens it next to the one already shelved. “Because…it looked like you were just staring up at her, waiting for her to crush you.”
I was, in a way. I always assumed I did get crushed—in my dream. It seemed there was no denying it, so I searched her eyes. Stupid—but they reminded me of my own, which remind me of Mom’s. It doesn’t make sense because the color is what gives Mom and my eyes a connection and the The Reading Mother has stony gray eyes. “Well, I wasn’t.”
He cocks one disbelieving brow and returns his focus to the books. We work until eight and only half of the main floor looks decent. We haven’t even started on the upper floor.
My stomach growls, unrelenting and loud. I remember Summer’s cooler, still in my car, and wish I’d thought to ask about a break. Finn and I haven’t talked much, but just when I open my mouth to ask, he says, “That’s it for today.”
“But we’re not done.”
“Nope and we won’t be for hours. Store is closed, we’ll start up again tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Not one customer came into the store while we’ve worked, but I’m hoping that was just because of the explosion. Finn hasn’t taught me a thing. I don’t even know what time to come in tomorrow. “Do I clock out?”
“Did you clock in?”
“Ah—I guess you could say I got distracted. Do I need to?”
“No clock in. Marley writes it all down.” He shifts toward the red stairs, looking annoyed with all my questions.
“Fine,” I say, not hiding my chiding tone. I don’t even ask when to come in tomorrow. I’m coming early, and I don’t care if Finn is their kid, Marley or Danny will have to train me because Finn has done nothing but give me snide remarks and irritated glares.
Without a goodbye, I head out to my car. Summer’s pink vinyl cooler bag sits on my passenger seat, and I don’t want to go home with it full. Besides, I am hungry. I rifle through the contents of the bag—there is enough to feed me and Cytha twice over. I pull out the strawberry yogurt and plastic spoon, I scoop some into my mouth, and lay my head back against the seat of the car.
It wasn’t exactly a long four hours, we were busy the whole time, but my dream… Not a déjà vu moment, but a step by step, blink by blink actual moment. It was like watching a movie for the hundredth time. It happened exactly as my dream laid out.
With my eyes closed, I spoon another bite into my mouth. A tap on my window jolts me to attention. Finn stands outside, his beany back in place, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other still attached to my passenger window.
I roll the pane down, heart pounding—not because of Finn, but because I was just analyzing the craziness of my nightmares when he startled me.
“May I?” he asks and his hand shifts down to the door handle.
My eyes dart from side to side, this part of town is pretty dead. I’m not afraid to tell him no, but I hear my answer before I really consider. “Sure.”
He pulls open the door, and I move Summer’s cooler to my lap. He slides in, but leaves the door ajar. “What are you doing out here?”
“Oh.” My eyes dart to the lunch bag. I purse my lips and tip my head a little. “My aunt packed me dinner—I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and take it home uneaten.” I chew on the inside of my cheek and tip the opened bag his way. “Want anything?”