Page 1 of A Late-Blooming Rose
CHAPTER ONE
New York
1896
Rose Collier sensed a presence in front of her desk, situated near the ionic column entrance of Stone Street Library, where she was entering the latest donations of books into a ledger—or at least trying to. The dire situation with her brother Marty’s illness interfered with her concentration and made her penmanship shaky.
She looked to see twelve-year-old Jimmy Ortner aiming his crooked grin at her. She laid down her pen and gave him a warm smile. “Hello, Jimmy.”
His freckled face beaming with pride, the boy held upThe Three Musketeers. “I’ve finished, Miss Collier.”
“Excellent!” she praised. “Tell me what you thought.”
His blue eyes lit with boyish zeal. “I liked the sword fighting the best.”
“Of course,” Rose said with a smile, listening to him describe his favorite scenes, sometimes asking questions to draw him out more. Mentoring the children—especially the smart ones like Jimmy—and encouraging their love of reading was the most gratifying part of her job. They were so interesting and easy to talk to.
A wave of sadness came over her.I’ll miss the children when I leave, Jimmy in particular.
Rose didn’t let her feelings show on her face but kept her expression interested. “Which one was your favorite musketeer?”
“D’Artagnan.” Jimmy dramatically thrust back his shoulders and fisted his hand to his chest. “‘My heart is that of a musketeer,’” he intoned in a deep voice, portraying the character as well as a scrawny twelve-year-old could.
“So true,” she murmured, forcing the words through the sudden lump in her throat.
Jimmy possessed an intellect far beyond his years and a powerful imagination, which Rose encouraged. The son of a widowed baker, the child was slight, with weak lungs, and would probably never be strong enough to fight with fists or swords—or stick versions thereof. Last year, noting his dexterity with numbers, she’d coaxed the boy to try adventure stories, which awakened a desire to read. Since then, Jimmy steadily worked his way through her list of suggested titles.
I won’t have a chance to watch Jimmy grow, see what he does with his education and love of reading.
The boy lowered his arm and became himself again. “What should I read next, Miss Collier?”
Rose tapped one finger on the desk, and then swayed by the enthusiasm in his voice, decided. “I believe you are now ready to tryMoby Dick; or, the Whale.” She slanted him a mock stern glance. “I must warn you. This isn’t a book that’s easy to read, even for adults. However, if you stick with it, I think you’ll find the story quite exciting, indeed.” Pain stabbed her heart at the thought of not being at the library when he finished.I won’t hear what he thought about Captain Ahab or his nemesis, the white whale.
Rose couldn’t say anything to Jimmy about her retirement. She hadn’t yet given her resignation to Harvard Nicklesby-Ward, the director of Stone Street Library, and she didn’t want him to hear rumors before their talk.
Instead, she stood and motioned for the boy to follow her under the large arched doorways and into an immense high-ceiling room, with ornate ceiling cornices and rows of tall shelves. Light came from long clerestory windows. As Rose moved through the stacks, her skirt rustling, she breathed in the familiar dusty smell of books. From years of practice, she kept her footsteps light, so as not to disturb the patrons.
Jimmy clomped along behind her, his hard-soled shoes on the wooden floor making enough sound to carry throughout the library.
The spine of one book jutted out, and Rose slowed to push the volume back in place, lining up the leather edge with the others on the shelves before continuing down the aisle.
“The library has two copies ofMoby Dick, so I’m sure one will be available,” she said in a quiet voice. As they turned the corner, the portrait of the library’s benefactor Andrew Carnegie gazed down benevolently.
She led Jimmy down several aisles and made a right, stopping unerringly in front of the shelf containing the writings of Herman Melville. “Ah, just as I thought. Two are available.” She pulled out a blue volume and extended the book to him but didn’t release it.
“Now you must promise to be careful with this one.Moby Dickis out of print, so if you damage this copy—” she raised her eyebrows, reminding him of the time his dog Max chewed on the cover ofTom Sawyer“—we cannot easily replace the book.” She let go.
Jimmy clutched the heavy volume to his chest, his eyes wide and solemn. “Don’t worry. I make certain, now, to keep every book out of Max’s reach. Besides, Ma said she’d skin me alive if she had to pay for the damages to another one.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “I’m surprised she didn’t threaten to skin Max.”
“Nah. She likes Max better than me.” He grinned.
This time Rose couldn’t resist, chuckling and reaching out to ruffle Jimmy’s hair. She knew how much widowed Mrs. Ortner adored her only child and worried for his welfare. The woman once confided to Rose her difficulty in refraining from constantly hovering like an umbrella over the boy.
“Max is adorable.” She briefly tapped the tip of his nose. “But, as you very well know, you’re foremost in your mother’s affections.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the counter near the door, where Miss Hall, the assistant librarian who’d worked here almost as long as Rose, was on check-in and check-out duty. “Go on with you, now, Jimmy. The sooner you arrive home, the sooner you can start reading about the great white whale.”
