Monday Morning Faith Read Free

guess.”
    â€œBut irritating.” Nelda handed me her plate. “It’s late. I need to be getting home. The kids will have torn the blinds down by now.”
    â€œI need to be going too. I’ll see about Mom and Pop.”
    Pop had wheeled to where Mom and my cousin Mack were waiting. Mack was acting as chauffeur today, and I appreciated it. He’d see my parents got home all right. The party was over, but I still had to clean up.
    I stared at the huge bunches of balloons. “What am I going to do with those?”
    â€œLeave those to me.” Nelda grabbed the party favors. “I’ll get Jim Jr. to help, and we’ll drop them off at The Gardens. The residents will love them.”
    â€œDo you think the messages are appropriate for an assisted living facility?”
    â€œDon’t worry about that. Trust me, they’ll love them, and if it isn’t someone’s birthday now, it will be soon. Birthdays roll around there faster than cockroaches on rollerblades.”
    Nelda and her son, Jim Jr., did volunteer work at The Gardens; I was delighted to let them take the balloons. We carried the leftover cake and punch to the break room for the library staff.
    Jim Jr. arrived by the time we’d emptied the trash and run the vacuum. We carried the balloons out to his van, and he and Nelda drove off, balloons whipping around in the backseat.
    I got in my car and drove to the Video Barn, where I rented a couple of Tom Selleck movies. Sam Littleton’s face surfaced to mind, but I pushed it back into the recesses. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he’d made my heart flutter. But that’s all there was to it. A chance encounter on my birthday.
    I didn’t want — or need — any more than that.
    I enjoyed my life as it was, thank you. Taking care of my parents, what with their varied health problems, took time — time I didn’t begrudge. I enjoyed being with them.
    If I lacked anything emotional, Itty Bitty, my two-year-old Maltese, was there to give me Itty kisses, which always made me feel better. I wished my little dog needed outdoor exercise, but he required indoor exercise, so we’d run through the house chasing a ball or playing hide-and-seek. Itty would find me every time, and every time I had to laugh. He’d sit back on his short little body, cock his rounded head, and stare at me with those black-rimmed, close-set eyes. His feathered ears would droop while his black nose twitched. His high-set tail, covered with a long coat and carried over the back, made a funny sight, indeed. I kept him clipped short for convenience, though I was sure he’d prefer to retain a silky long coat.
    Mom and Pop loved the dog, and loved having me with them. I knew they worried that they were putting a crimp in my social life, but I wasn’t interested in a relationship at this point. Just give me a good book, or let me visit with Mom and Pop or watch the Discovery Channel, and I was happy. And with my job, I didn’t have to buy books retail. I got them from library sales.
    Yes, indeed, life was good.
    Over the next few days, though, I caught myself wondering if Sam Littleton would be in. He never was — or I didn’t spot him. Just as well. He’d already disrupted my routine more than I liked.
    One morning I finished reshelving Daniel Baker’s stack of books. He’d retired as head foreman at the handle factory and was indulging in a lifelong goal: reading every Western in the library.
    The little man with a bushy mass of snow-white hair grinned at me. “You need to get in some new Louis L’Amour titles.” He pointed to a volume. “That’s one I’ve read.”
    â€œMr. L’Amour isn’t writing anymore, Mr. Baker.”
    His eyes bulged. “Why not? Man’s got talent. Real talent.”
    â€œMr. L’Amour has passed on.”
    He shook his head, shock reflected in his eyes. “All the good ones