Good for You: A Novel (71)

If she saw him again.

“Oh, just wait until you check out the literacy building,” said Mari, guiding her toward the entrance of the blue barn. “I have a few minutes—I’ll go in with you.”

Aly murmured her appreciation as Mari pulled back one of the sliding doors to reveal the barn’s interior. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, packed with books of all sizes and reading levels, each with a tall library ladder to access the higher shelves. A seating area had several comfy couches and at least a dozen beanbags, and some round tables surrounded by chairs. Kids sat everywhere, their heads bent over books instead of tablets or phones.

Aly would’ve loved this place as a child—before she found magazines, she’d lost herself in books. Honestly, the center was the sort of place she loved as an adult. She took a deep breath: it even smelled like books. Did a better scent exist?

Only one, but she quickly inhaled again to rid her mind of it.

“This is pretty great,” admitted Aly as she and Mari walked over to a far corner of the building, to an administrative desk.

“I’m so glad you think so,” said the man seated behind the desk, who stood to greet them. Both of his arms were covered with tattoos, and he wore a bow tie with his short-sleeve button-down. Aly liked him on sight. “Mari, thanks for finding someone to take your spot today.”

“Glad to help,” said Mari. “Aly, this is Jon Nguyen. He’s the center director. Jon, this is Aly.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Aly, shaking his hand.

“Likewise. Mari has told me a lot about you, and we’re delighted to have you. Of course, we’d love to have you sign on as a long-term volunteer if you find that you enjoy the work.”

“I wish I could,” said Aly honestly. “But I’m heading out of town soon.”

“Well, if that changes, you know where to find us,” said Jon with a smile. “Now, before you get started, I’ll give you a quick tour of the other buildings. Sound good?”

“Sounds terrific,” said Aly.

“I’ve got to get over to the Mermaid. You okay to take it from here?” asked Mari. She’d driven them there, and Aly had already told her she’d walk the two miles home; a walk would be just the thing to help keep her head clear.

“I am,” said Aly, hoping this would turn out to be true.

“Thank you. I owe you coffee before you leave. Call me to collect,” said Mari, and Aly smiled and promised her she would.

As Jon walked Aly around, he explained that volunteering had nothing to do with workbooks or writing drills. Instead, volunteers mostly listened to the children read, and helped them with words and phrases they stumbled over. They passed a volunteer perched on a sofa, reading storybooks aloud to a group of young children. “Our goal is really to get kids to love reading,” explained Jon. “We let them pick the books they want, and we don’t talk about phonics or levels or anything like that. We do have staff who specialize in disabilities and help children with dyslexia and other issues. But what you’ll be doing is encouraging kids to keep turning those pages and being there when they need a hand.”

“I love it,” said Aly. But just then, she caught a boy who was maybe six or seven at most, staring at her from the other side of the room. She looked away quickly, thinking of the disdain her coworker’s daughter had shown toward her at Take Your Child to Work Day. What if her very presence was a deterrent to some kids?

She dared herself to look back at the boy again. When she did, he flashed a crooked grin at her.

Aly nearly tripped over a beanbag. With the exception of his sandy cowlicked hair, the boy looked nothing like Luke. But that lopsided smile—it was almost identical to her brother’s.

She didn’t believe in reincarnation or omens. She wasn’t even particularly superstitious. But after her mother’s unexpected appearance at the lake the other day, and now this—well, she had to wonder if Luke was still watching over her.

She wanted to believe he was.

“How about we check out the other buildings before you start?” said Jon, whose cheerful demeanor eclipsed even Aly’s chipper management style. “I want you to have a complete picture of what goes on here.”

“Definitely,” agreed Aly, stealing one last glance at her brother’s smile doppelg?nger.

With different stations for clay, pastels, paint, and drawing, the fine arts building was every bit as impressive and magical as the first building. Then Jon walked her over to the red barn at the end of the property. “Our third building is dedicated to woodworking and crafts,” he explained, pulling back the heavy barn door. “We try to work with local artisans and give kids as much of a Michigan-based experience as possible.”

“That’s—” Aly stopped midsentence.

Because there, in the center of the barn, was a large sailboat. And amid several children, ranging from maybe eight to eighteen, was a man with his back to her, sanding the boat’s hull.

Aly immediately stepped out of the building before she could draw attention to herself. “Would you mind if we didn’t go in right now?” she said quietly to Jon.

“Of course not. Can I ask why?” he said.

Aly exhaled as Jon pulled the door closed. “Um, sure. It’s just that . . .” What would Luke do in this situation?