The Librarians Novels Novels & Stories

I stopped by the library—the same one I’d visited as a girl, the place where I first found stories about women who dared to rise beyond the walls they were born in. Mrs. Bertram, the head librarian, recognized me immediately. “You’ve grown into yourself,” she said as she welcomed me inside. I smiled. “I’m trying.” “I heard about the Foundation. And the baby. Congratulations.” “Thank you.” “I always said you had a story inside you.” “I think it just took time to find its voice.” I donated a dozen books from the Barlowe house—stories I wanted other young girls to find: Jane Eyre, Little Women, The Secret Life of Bees, Becoming, The House on Mango Street, and more.

I search for the better part of the night and come up with nothing. I look through shelves and stacks, I read through titles and half the one thousand green books that are in here are touched by me in one way or the other. No other text mentions Aquinas Ashyrn of famed starlight, and nothing else mentions his wife. A voice interrupts my frustrated stuttering brain. “She’s in there.” I raise bleary sleep filled eyes and look up from the pile of books that surround me. A scowl lines my face when I see the librarian, sneering.