Chapter Twenty-Two

Sophie was sitting on the floor of one of the back rooms of Belletristic, her legs splayed out in front of her, a box of dusty books nearby. She could heart Matt cheerfully whistling in the next room as he reorganized their selection of travel books. She sneezed as she pulled out an old tome about tuberculosis, and pondered whether anyone would ever actually buy it.

She decided probably not.

But then again, she thought with a slight eye roll, she'd been amazed by what people had bought since she had come here. She expected they'd want first editions and best sellers, shiny like-new copies of popular authors or special orders, but just as popular were obscure books on every topic under the sun, from paganism to Tuscan statuary to horse breeding in ancient Rome.

Every reader his or her book, and every book its reader, Sophie mused, recalling two tenants of library science from her days as a graduate student spending a lot of time in the library and befriending a lot of would-be librarians.

Those rules were never more true than in a dusty secondhand bookstore, Sophie thought with a smile. Maybe she would put the tuberculosis book on the shelf after all – its reader was out there somewhere.

She finally managed to unpack the box entirely, and then stood, knuckling her back before turning to examine one of the top shelves above her. She'd reorganized most of the room into more sensible categories, but still had a few top shelves left to do.

Grabbing a nearby chair, she stood, teetering slightly, as she dusted and straightened, pulling out a few books that may never sell and tossing them to the floor. Her fingers played across the bindings, caressing each one as though they were old friends, and she inhaled the smell of "old book" – an indescribable smell that happened to be one of her favorite on earth.

She'd never get tired of that, she thought, tugging down a copy of a book with a worn spine. Someone should bottle that smell…

Turning over the worn book, she blew on the cover to reveal the title. Soil Culture Manual: Wales, it read. She carefully cracked open the cover, looking for a publication date inside.

1907.

So, a bit old then, Sophie thought with a smile. Only published before the First World War and all…

She carefully closed the cover again, and was about to put it back on the top shelf, tucked away from the world when she had a thought.

She knew someone who may appreciate just such a gift.

A peace offering, if you will.

If Daniel Davies can reach out and apologize to her for his behavior, she can certainly assure him that his apology was accepted.

Even if it's with an unorthodox gift, she thought, jumping down lightly from the wobbly chair.

**

Daniel nearly tripped over the package propped against his back door, not paying the least attention. He'd spent the entire day toiling out on the acreage, and now he was weary, hungry and ready to get inside for the night, leaving the farm problems behind for another day.

He stooped down, scooping up the package, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. He didn't recognize the handwriting bearing his name, but instinctively knew it to be a female hand.

Staggering indoors, he smiled as he left the package in the den – after dinner, he'd open it, seeing what was inside.

He couldn’t remember the last time he'd had a nice surprise – or a gift of any kind for that matter. Christmas had been harrowing last year… no family left, no Rosa, no one to celebrate with. He hadn't even bothered with a tree, and had spent most of the day chopping firewood to avoid missing the warmth of the holiday.

He hoped to never spend Christmas that way again.

After a shower and a hurried meal in the kitchen – he'd only caught a glimpse of Sophie once, totally absorbed in a novel as she walked into the kitchen to get a drink and back out again – he returned to the den, pulling the package into his lap as he sank into his favorite chair.

Tugging at the string, he managed to open the package, revealing a book, obviously the worse for wear over time. He smiled at the title of the book, and carefully flipped it open, thumbing through pages and smiling slightly at the aged diagrams, the stodgy language depicting tips and tricks for soil tillage.

Just as he was about to close the book, a piece of paper fluttered out from between the pages, landing on his lap. He picked it up, unfolded it, and then smiled as he glanced down at the signature at the bottom.

Sophie.

His eyes returned to the top and began reading.

Daniel,

I came across the book today, and I thought of you. You said you were still 'getting up to speed' on running the farm, and so I thought this book looked terribly informative and useful.

Okay, so it's from 1907, but never mind. How difficult can farming be anyway?

Daniel smiled, hearing Sophie's sarcasm as he read the words.

Thank you again for your apology – I'm glad you came over yesterday. I must admit, I was really bothered that we got off on the wrong foot, and then kept stepping on each other after that. Your apology means a lot to me. I'm sorry too, for being a silly America, and a twit on top of that.

Daniel grinned, then kept reading.

As I said yesterday, I'm sorry for all the sorrow and difficulty you've had in the last year or two, and if there's anything I can do to help you, or if you just need someone to talk to, I'm just across the lane.

Probably microwaving my dinner again.

Daniel grinned, once again imagining her dancing across her kitchen to the sounds of her iPod, her dinner in the microwave, her hips swaying and that soft, touchable hair swinging from side to side.

I can't wait to learn how to use the Aga, to buy some groceries, but mostly, to be on good terms with you. You seem like a good person (maybe with a tough exterior), and I hope we can become good friends.

I know I can't replace your mom, and I can't replace your ex, but at least I can be someone in your life you can trust, and that you know won't walk away and leave you alone.

At least, not for a while. I'll do anything to avoid that damn dissertation at this point.

Let me know when you can get away for some grocery shopping, and by the way… do you mind driving?

I kinda don't know how. Yet.

Enjoy the book, and talk to you soon, neighbor.

Fondly,

Sophie

Daniel sat completely still, rereading her words again and again until they reverberated in his mind, smiling at her words and picturing her friendly smile.

He couldn't wait to see her again.

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