Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(14)
Nora hadn’t, but she’d encountered similar groups before. Groups like theirs were always the catalysts behind banned book discussions. The only surprise was that Nora hadn’t met these women sooner. For years, she’d run a bookstore free of complaints regarding her inventory or displays.
Guess it couldn’t last forever, she thought wryly.
“I can’t say that I have,” Nora replied.
Olga, a stern-faced woman with short gray hair, fished a pamphlet from her purse and gave it to Nora.
After glancing at the golden-haired family of four on the cover, Nora lowered the brochure and fixed her gaze on Connie. “I’ll look at that during my break. In the meantime, how can I assist you?”
“We’re concerned about your window display,” Connie said, smoothing her cardigan. “Using pagan symbolism and demonic rituals to trick impressionable young girls into buying books is manipulative and immoral. We’ve come to ask you—in the name of all the good women in this town who are raising their girls to follow traditional values—to take this ungodly display down. Will you do that? Will you do the right thing, Ms. Pennington?”
Nora saw two customers line up at the checkout counter. The first customer was holding four paperbacks. The second customer had three hardbacks.
“The purpose of this display isn’t to offend, and there’s definitely nothing demonic about it,” Nora said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It’s meant to show that women are powerful, magical, beautiful, smart, and strong. I hope that you’ll look at it again and see its positive message for women of all ages and backgrounds. I need to help other customers now, so enjoy your day.”
As Nora took up her position behind the checkout counter and gratefully attended to a very pleasant customer, Connie and her friends moved toward the exit.
Before leaving, each woman made a point to pause and look at Nora.
The coldness in their eyes and the hard set of their jaws spoke with the same force as words.
They’d come to Miracle Books to test Nora, and she’d failed the test.
Now, there would be consequences.
Chapter 4
There is no such thing as public opinion. There is only published opinion.
—Winston Churchill
Jed had to work Friday and Saturday night, so he and Nora made plans to spend Sunday together.
Sunday was the only day of the week Nora slept in. She’d turn off her alarm and let her body decide when it was time to get up. She’d spend a solid hour at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and perusing yard sale ads in the paper, before starting a load of laundry or a grocery list.
Today, she was still in bed, not quite fully awake, when she heard someone moving around in her kitchen. She’d left a key under the mat for Jed in case he wanted to come over in time for breakfast. He didn’t own a coffeemaker, and after pulling a double, he clearly wanted a higher quality brew than what the BP station had to offer.
Nora closed her eyes and enjoyed the sound of Jed making himself at home. This level of intimacy was fairly new territory for them. For over a year, their relationship had been strictly physical. But as time passed, they began to share their feelings with each other, and their relationship had deepened into something more mature and meaningful.
At the moment, however, Nora’s mind was focused on the physical part. She tiptoed into her bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, and then padded into the kitchen to give Jed a good-morning kiss.
“I was hoping the coffee would be done before you got up,” he said, brushing a piece of hair off Nora’s cheek.
Nora caught his hand and planted a soft kiss in the middle of his palm. “In that case, I’ll go back to bed. Wanna come?”
Jed replied with a kiss.
Later, well after the coffeepot had signaled the end of its brew cycle, Nora and Jed lay in bed, arms wrapped around each other, watching dust motes dance on a sunbeam.
Nora was always eager to hear about Jed’s work, so she asked how his shifts had gone.
He told her that he’d lost an elderly patient on the way to the hospital Friday night. The man had suffered a massive heart attack and Jed hadn’t been able to revive him.
“I never get used to it,” he said quietly. “That feeling of failing the patient and his family. It doesn’t matter if a hundred people tell me that I couldn’t have done anything more. If I’m the last person treating him—touching him—then I’m going to feel responsible.”
“That is why you’re so good at your job,” Nora said, stroking Jed’s dark hair. It had gotten longer over the summer, forming soft waves for her to comb through with her fingers.
Jed grunted.
“I’m serious. Even after treating hundreds of patients, you’re not jaded. You treat every patient with respect. You don’t give them nicknames or joke about their tattoos or birthmarks. I really admire that.” Propping herself up on an elbow, she asked, “How do you do it? Care about all of them so much?”
Jed looked at her, and his blue eyes sparkled like sunlight on the ocean. “I think about the team that took care of my mom. Whenever I’m tired, or feeling impatient, I picture those guys giving her oxygen, talking to her. Comforting her. I need to be as good as they were that night for the rest of my days and nights.”