Ok, I can't help but write about libraries and librarians. It's just what I do. I love the character of Nicolas and I want to write an entire story about him. :) He's just great.
Ruby twirled her pencil around her fingers, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall nearby. She sighed. Time passed far too slowly at work. The Hamilton Village Public Library was nearly empty, all the old ladies searching for romance novels and sticky-handed Preschool kids with their mommies had left hours ago. Ruby was alone with Nicolas, her boss and manager of the library. Nicolas was older than Ruby’s twenty three years and at the age of 28, he never let Ruby forget it. He had great responsibility as manager and he felt that his age proved his worth. In his eyes, being the oldest employee of the Hamilton Village Library system granted respect, especially by his younger employees, including Ruby. His chestnut hair was cropped short and his hazel eyes hid behind black -rimmed glasses. When Ruby first started working at the library, she might have thought he was attractive, but Nicolas’s attitude toward her aided in the complete evaporation of the romantic feelings she might have ever had toward him. Despite Nicolas’ feelings of self-importance, he was a decent boss to Ruby, and perfectly polite when they worked together. Ruby could see him sitting in his office from her desk; he was staring hard at the computer screen. Ruby could only wonder what he was so interested in. Probably something boring like purchase orders or planning of upcoming library events. Ruby looked from Nicolas back to the clock. Another ten minutes to go. The clock actually seemed to moved backward. It was finally Friday and Ruby was not scheduled to work again until Monday. It had been months since Nicolas had given her a full weekend off from work! Ruby looked around for something to do to pass the time. Glancing around, she saw a cart of books that needed to be re-shelved. These books belonged in the non fiction section, toward the back of the library. Ruby was tempted to leave the books there for Charice to reshelve tomorrow, but she knew that Nicolas would have something to say about that. It wasn’t that Ruby was lazy. No, it was the library itself. The nonfiction section was notorious for being creepy, especially at night. When she first started working there, Charice had told her that the previous library manager had been murdered in the library by a local man, back in the nonfiction section. The manager, an elderly man from Ohio, had been working there for only a few months and was staying late to re-shelve books before he closed up. The next morning, police found him. Police reports said that blood had been everywhere. All over the shelves, the books, carts. The murderer had tracked blood all through the building, searching for something. He finally found what he was looking for, a book. The book was left near the body of the manager, covered in bloody handprints. The pages damp and ruined. The local man, Jonathan Hambrick, had lived in Hamilton Village for years. He was well-liked, owned a hardware store on Hardy Street, and lived in one of the nicest antebellum homes that remained in Hamilton Village. Nothing was on his record, not even an overdue library fee. Yet, Hambrick, according to the police, had snapped and broke into the library with the intent to murder the library manager in cold blood. Charice had sworn to Ruby that Hambrick had committed suicide on the other side of the building right after he murdered the manager. One single bullet to the head. To this day, police were still clueless as to why Hambrick had murdered a man that he barely knew. The two men had no connections and had only spoken a couple of words to each other before “the incident.”
Ruby shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. Books still needed to be re-shelved. So what if a man was murdered here? Murders happen every day. Life goes on, right? She pushed the cart, wheels squeaking on the linoleum floors, heading closer and closer to the opposite end of the building. She pushed her hair back behind her ears, tugging on the hair towards the end. A nervous habit; Emphasis on nervous. The stacks loomed above her; she began to find the correct home for the books on her cart. One by one, the books disappeared from the cart, and once the last one was put away, she began to return to the circulation desk. Surely her ten minutes were up now. She took a quick left out from the stacks and ran smack into a dark figure.
“Oohf! Ruby! What’s the meaning of this?” Nicolas pushed the cart back, attempting to straighten his bow tie and tweed vest that had somehow gotten rumpled by a runaway book cart. “Honestly, Ruby, You need to be more careful. What if I had been a visitor to the library?”
Ruby was trying to still her pounding heart. It was only Nicolas, just her boss. Not a murderer. Repeat: Not a murderer. Ruby quickly realized that Nicolas was still awaiting an apology for hitting him with a library book cart.
“Sorry, Nicolas. I was just trying to reshelve some books and I didn’t hear you over here and I was heading back and you just, you know, appeared there. I, um….” Ruby saw the look on Nicolas’ face and decided that it was best to just leave off the extended apology and simply forget the entire matter.
“Sorry for hitting you,” Ruby said quietly. Nicolas had finally adjusted every article of clothing to perfection and seemed to remember what he came to tell Ruby in the first place.
“Right, well, no harm done. I came to fetch you. It’s past closing time, you know. I’m sure you’re ready to begin your weekend.”
Nicolas took hold of the cart and pushed it back to circulation with Ruby following closely behind. He quietly handed over her purse.
“Here you are. I will see you Monday morning. Enjoy your weekend, Ruby.” Nicolas gave her a small smile and abruptly turned and headed back to his office.
Ruby watched Nicolas disappear and she darted to the exit, relieved to be free from the confining shelves of books and shadows and stories of blood, murder, and suicide. She walked to her vehicle, a beat-up pick-up truck, faded red and handed down from her uncle. She slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. She sat in the silence of the car for a moment, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her. With one last glance at the library, she started the truck and drove off, leaving the darkness hiding in the stacks behind. At least for the weekend.
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