Tree patrons about their interests and then bringing them selections from the shelves. Many of the regulars had already read much of the collection. So by the time they began loading back on the bus to leave, huge piles of books were everywhere. Amelia ignored the mess, but that was okay with D.J. An introvert by nature, after a couple of hours of chatty human interaction, she welcomed the peace of sorting and shelving.
As she loaded up a cart, she thought again about the problem for those with low vision and what she might be able to do about it. Maybe instead of pulling particular books for the patrons after they arrived, she could set up a table with a sampling of things that might interest them. Of course, setting up a table was problematic, as well. The only real space was in the open area in front of the circulation desk. But the light was only marginally better. She remembered what the man had said about biographies. She noticed that most of them did have sun-damaged spines. Maybe there was a usable space next to the windows.
She walked around the ranges of shelves to the aisle area between the adult collection and the outside wall. A half dozen tall oversize windows were spaced at staggered intervals. The afternoon light poured through them. But there was neither sufficient depth for a square table nor length for a rectangular one. D.J. was disappointed. But at the same time, something niggled her brain. She stood staring at the wall for a long moment, trying to figure out what it was that stood out so strangely to her.
Behind her she heard a squeak of wheels and turned just in time to see the book cart she’d loaded disappear behind a range of shelves.
“James?”
The cart stopped moving but the guy didn’t show himself. She hadn’t so much as caught a shadow of him all day.
D.J. peeked around the corner. He was standing there, but his head hung down, unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Are you going to put these up for me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay.”
“And thank you for pulling all the Books-By-Mail requests this morning.”
“Okay.”
“Being new to the library, I’m going to need the help of everybody on the team,” D.J. told him. If anything, his head hung lower, as if he wanted to make it disappear into his chest.
“You’re part of my team, right?”
“Yes. Yes. Okay.”
James was nodding rapidly, but his body language screamed leave me alone!
D.J. took pity on the guy and headed back to her office, but she was smiling. She had gotten three words out of him. That was surely progress.
210.4 Natural Theology
T he long approach to Scott’s place would have been called a road by most standards. Certainly the county that graded it considered it that. But since his was the only building on it, and it ended abruptly at the edge of the river beside his house, many folks in town thought of it as his driveway.
He kind of liked that. The imagery of it appealed to him in some way. As if a journey, his journey arrived at this home and saw no need to go any further.
The truth was, of course, that the county had simply not wanted or needed to spend money on another bridge across Verdant Creek. So the county road stopped abruptly and then picked up again a couple of miles farther west.
Friday was his afternoon off. He kept his cell phone close so that Paula could contact him in the case of an emergency prescription, but since he had to be open on Saturday, the busiest day of his week, he didn’t begrudge himself the break.
Scott pulled into his usual parking place near the back door. Although he’d grown up in a house where locks were never used, he understood that leaving his house open could be abetting the worst impulses of the desperate or larcenous. Still, he was a trusting, rural guy at heart. He reached up above the door’s metal light fixture to retrieve his key, clicked open the lock and then returned it to the magnet that kept it at least sight unseen to
As she loaded up a cart, she thought again about the problem for those with low vision and what she might be able to do about it. Maybe instead of pulling particular books for the patrons after they arrived, she could set up a table with a sampling of things that might interest them. Of course, setting up a table was problematic, as well. The only real space was in the open area in front of the circulation desk. But the light was only marginally better. She remembered what the man had said about biographies. She noticed that most of them did have sun-damaged spines. Maybe there was a usable space next to the windows.
She walked around the ranges of shelves to the aisle area between the adult collection and the outside wall. A half dozen tall oversize windows were spaced at staggered intervals. The afternoon light poured through them. But there was neither sufficient depth for a square table nor length for a rectangular one. D.J. was disappointed. But at the same time, something niggled her brain. She stood staring at the wall for a long moment, trying to figure out what it was that stood out so strangely to her.
Behind her she heard a squeak of wheels and turned just in time to see the book cart she’d loaded disappear behind a range of shelves.
“James?”
The cart stopped moving but the guy didn’t show himself. She hadn’t so much as caught a shadow of him all day.
D.J. peeked around the corner. He was standing there, but his head hung down, unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Are you going to put these up for me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay.”
“And thank you for pulling all the Books-By-Mail requests this morning.”
“Okay.”
“Being new to the library, I’m going to need the help of everybody on the team,” D.J. told him. If anything, his head hung lower, as if he wanted to make it disappear into his chest.
“You’re part of my team, right?”
“Yes. Yes. Okay.”
James was nodding rapidly, but his body language screamed leave me alone!
D.J. took pity on the guy and headed back to her office, but she was smiling. She had gotten three words out of him. That was surely progress.
210.4 Natural Theology
T he long approach to Scott’s place would have been called a road by most standards. Certainly the county that graded it considered it that. But since his was the only building on it, and it ended abruptly at the edge of the river beside his house, many folks in town thought of it as his driveway.
He kind of liked that. The imagery of it appealed to him in some way. As if a journey, his journey arrived at this home and saw no need to go any further.
The truth was, of course, that the county had simply not wanted or needed to spend money on another bridge across Verdant Creek. So the county road stopped abruptly and then picked up again a couple of miles farther west.
Friday was his afternoon off. He kept his cell phone close so that Paula could contact him in the case of an emergency prescription, but since he had to be open on Saturday, the busiest day of his week, he didn’t begrudge himself the break.
Scott pulled into his usual parking place near the back door. Although he’d grown up in a house where locks were never used, he understood that leaving his house open could be abetting the worst impulses of the desperate or larcenous. Still, he was a trusting, rural guy at heart. He reached up above the door’s metal light fixture to retrieve his key, clicked open the lock and then returned it to the magnet that kept it at least sight unseen to
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