The Book of Eleanor by Nat Burns Page A

you angry at me for moving? I kept your books though, all but the ones Brynna took. They’re all here.”
    I waited, willing her to communicate so I could be comforted by her presence instead of afraid. I heard the wind outside, buffeting the exterior of my apartment, but she didn’t speak to me.
    A low growl sounded from Oscar Marie. The door to the Bookmark clicked open. The slow groan of the door opening set every hair on my body rising. I knew I had shut the door securely before coming back to work, when I had swept the huge expanse of floor one last time, preparing for tomorrow’s furniture delivery, and then checked the alarm before switching off all the lights. I had closed that door. Yet it gaped open invitingly, as if waiting for me to come and learn the secrets of the universe. I couldn’t move. Terror held my body captive.
    Oscar Marie followed her usual descent path from drafting table to dining table to chair to floor. She approached the doorway cautiously, and then moved across the threshold.
    “Ossie! Wait!” I cried, my body released from its paralysis.
    I stepped to the door and reached for the lights. Before I could flip the switch, however, I was caught and held by the strange tableau before me. In the dimness, backlit by the streetlights of Lighthouse Square, I saw that the books I had left so neatly aligned on the shelves were now stacked in the center of the room in a high vertical column.
    I noted movement and saw, to my horror, that the huge heavy stack, some eight feet tall, was suspended off the ground by a good twelve inches. The stack was bobbing in midair.
    As I watched, the horizontal volumes began to break away from one another and spin in a strange tornado of books. It spun faster as I watched. Suddenly, one of the books broke away and made a beeline for me. I couldn’t move. Thankfully, it passed inches from my head and slammed into the doorframe.
    A loud phantom scream fractured the night and woke me from my stupor.
    I grabbed Oscar Marie roughly by her collar and scurried into the relative safety of the apartment as more books broke loose from the vortex. I slammed the door shut and felt the vibration of the heavy wood panel as several volumes slammed against it.
    I twisted the deadbolt and backed away from the door, holding my breath while I waited for what other new horror would befall me.

Angie
     
    Mama and I were both having a hard time waking up this morning. Thank goodness Gail was lively enough for both of us because she was doing most of the setups while Mama and I leaned on the bar, slurping extra coffee.
    “So why are you so tired?” I asked her.
    She blushed suddenly, causing me to chuckle into my coffee cup.
    “That’s none of your business, young ’un.”
    “Hey, that’s just fine with me, Mama. You’d best get it while you can.” I waved a dismissive hand at her. “So how does Nando look this morning?”
    She grinned at me and moved to the back of the bar for more coffee. “Who said anything about Fernando?”
    I perked right up. “Mama...something you want to tell me?”
    She added extra cream to her cup. “I already told you it was none of your business.”
    I slid off my stool and moved toward her.
    “Oh no, you don’t! Don’t you dare touch me!” She laughed, the movement causing her white apron to flutter against her abundant chest.
    I paused in my advance. Curiosity was chewing a hole in me, but she was my mother and I had to respect that.
    “Shoot, Mama, come on!” I begged, stretching an arm toward her.
    She laughed at my dilemma, but shook her head firmly.
    I backed away and resumed my seat.
    “So what’s been happening in Angie’s world?” she asked when she took her seat next to me.
    I looked at her, trying to show my aggravation. “Oh, yeah, like I’m gonna tell you anything now.”
    She stared me down, her familiar warm brown eyes filled with merriment and demand.
    “I met Grey again,” I said finally.
    “Grey?” She squinted,