“At least you’re not going to make me walk into town...” She attempted a joke, even though she was shivering.
“I’m not sure I fancy walking along here at the moment.” He was driving slowly out of the car park. The snow plow had left a clear path for them but snow was piled up on each side of the road.
“No one does.” It was comforting that in one thing, at least, she knew better than he did. “There’s a beach path. A bit windy in the winter, but it’s still a nice walk.”
He smiled. “Perhaps you’ll show it to me. Another day.”
Yeah. Another day. All Fleur could think about at the moment was getting through the next hour or so. That was more than enough.
She had grit. Rick was under no illusions that most of that was directed at proving him wrong, but that was fair enough. When she’d stepped out of the front door of the clinic he had almost felt her panic, even though she’d been trying very hard to hide it.
Although it was pretty much impossible to get lost on the straight road into town, giving him directions seemed to calm her a little, as if it put her back in control. When keep going, straight ahead wore out, and she lapsed into silence, he leaned forward to switch on some music.
It was the wrong music, but it had the right effect. Fleur chuckled suddenly. “This is your favorite band?”
“No, it’s Ellie’s... My daughter.”
“And here I was thinking I’d found your Achilles’ heel. That you get into the groove with ‘Nellie the Elephant’.”
“I’m not admitting to that. Change it over if you want.” Fleur was already humming along with the music and he wondered whether she’d stretch forward or just leave it playing.
She leaned forward slowly.
“‘Driving’...” She scrolled through the list. “Perhaps not, we don’t have far to drive. ‘Soul’... Is that your soul or just soul music?”
“Just soul music.” Rick wasn’t ready to admit to having a soul at the moment, because that soul was telling him that a couple of laps around the island with Fleur wasn’t out of the question. Just so he could extend this time alone with her.
“Well, that’s not likely to give me any insight, then...” She aimed a sidelong grin at him. “‘Old Favorites.’”
She stabbed at the playlist title with her finger, leaning back in her seat. When the music started she smiled. “Well that’s unexpected.”
“I like sixties music.” He’d loved going through his grandmother’s old records when he’d been a kid. Learning how to operate the portable gramophone that she’d kept in the corner of the sitting room so he could play them. It had felt as if he’d had a proper home. Later, he’d danced to this music with Lara in the sitting room of their flat in London.
“So do I. We’ve done a few sets around this kind of thing. Summer of love and all that...” Fleur was suddenly silent. It seemed that the music meant something to both of them, in different ways. Something that was lost forever.
The mood didn’t last for long. As they entered the Main Street of Maple Island’s only town, she looked around suddenly. “Can we stop here? At the library?”
The library looked more like one of the older houses on the island than a public building, a stone-and-brick-built structure that had obviously been well tended over the years. But when Rick drew up, he could see the notice outside.
“I’d like to go in and get some books, if that’s okay.”
It was better than okay, this was exactly what he wanted. Fleur managed to get the car door open, shifting her legs round and planting one of the crutches tentatively on the ground.
“No...” She frowned. “That’s not going to work, is it...?”
“No, it isn’t. You must know how to use weight and balance, Fleur, from your dance training.”
She shot him a Don’t remind me look, putting her hand on his shoulder. Clearly even this memory of what she’d lost was difficult, but she didn’t resist him as he pivoted his weight to bring her out of the car and onto her feet. If every patient had such an instinctive understanding of how the inertia of two bodies could work together, then not so many nurses would have bad backs.
But as soon as she was out of the car she let go of him, leaving him to walk beside her between the piles of snow on either side of the path. Rick readied himself to steady her if she slipped, but she was obviously intent on doing without his help. Fleur maneuvered herself carefully up the stone steps at the front of the building and then walked past Rick as he held the door open, leaning on a pair of swing doors that stood ahead of her to open them.
The interior momentarily took Rick’s attention from her. Gleaming wooden shelving, which looked as if it had taken many years’ worth of wax and care, protruded from the walls to the right and left. In the center, an open space held heavy, old-fashioned library tables, one of which was stacked with newspapers. A second tier of shelves, above the first, was reached by two curved wooden staircases and a gallery.
“Pretty impressive, eh?” He realized that Fleur was looking up at him, studying his reaction.
“Very. When does this date back to?”
“The middle of the seventeen hundreds...”
“Seventeen thirty-two. Ezra Van Den Berg was one of the island’s founders and he left his home and all his books to the island, to provide a library for future generations.” The quiet lilt of a woman’s voice sounded behind them. “I was wondering when you’d get around to paying us a visit, Fleur.”
Rick turned to see a neat, dark-haired woman in her forties, wearing flat shoes and a slim, black trouser suit. The overall effect might have been sensible, if it wasn’t for the chunky necklace, each of the wooden beads uniquely carved. Fleur grinned at her.
“I haven’t been released from custody yet. This is Dr. Rick Fleming. Rick, this is Pamela.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rick. I hope you’ll visit us often.”
“I will. This building is spectacular. It was Ezra Van Den Berg’s home, you say?”
“Yes, it was, although it doesn’t look much like the way it did when he lived in it. He left money and instructions for the interior to be completely remodeled, and so a two-story residence turned into this.”
Fleur grinned. “Yeah. Apparently one of the walls almost fell down when they knocked out the internal supports. Which one was it, Pam?”
“That one over there.” Pamela gestured to her left. “They had to hold a local fundraiser to rebuild it. Watch yourself up on the gallery, it tends to tilt suddenly in high winds. You’re here for some books, Fleur?”
“That’s the general idea.” Fleur settled herself into one of the high-backed wooden chairs and Pamela nodded, turning to climb the spiral staircase that led to the upper gallery. She disappeared between two rows of shelves, obviously on a mission.
“The gallery tilts...?” Pamela didn’t seem like someone with a penchant for practical jokes, and she’d issued the warning with an impressively straight face.
Fleur snorted with laughter. “No, of course it doesn’t, this place would survive a hurricane. Pam tells the tourists that there’s a ghost up there as well.”
“Right. And the library’s still run by the family?” He’d noticed the shiny nameplate on Pamela’s desk. Pamela Vandenberg.
“Hush, I wouldn’t say that too loudly...” Fleur put one finger to her lips. “Pam’s a qualified librarian with an English degree, and she got this job before she got married.