Jasmine turned when she noticed the man waving to her. She wondered if she was supposed to know him, but he seemed like a vision wafting across her memory like a genie escaping a bottle. But the more she struggled to remember him the farther away the memory receded like the early-morning tide.
Jasmine’s past was no longer filled with clear lines and vivid colors. It wasn’t always like that. But a few years ago, she had sustained a severe head injury that had caused a brain bleed when she fell from a ladder when she was trying to help retrieve the neighbor’s cat from her roof. Even now, vague flashes of faces and voices that were often familiar but had no owner, and snippets of scenarios that evoked emotions, flitted through her consciousness, but the stories surrounding them had disappeared into the distant fog.
The man waved again. Jasmine wanted to turn away and run. She was tired of pretending she knew people these days. It was so much easier not to engage. But it was too late. He was walking across the park, heading directly towards her.
“Jasmine!” he called heartily, reaching his arms out for a hug.
A huge panic overtook her. She folded her arms protectively across her chest, clutching her jacket tightly. She turned her shoulder towards him and tried to smile. “Hey there, how are you?” she asked, trying to mimic his hearty tone.
He noticed her protective stance but stopped just before reaching her. “Jaz, are you OK?”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning away. “I have somewhere I need to be.” Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd. She didn’t turn around to make sure the man wasn’t following her until she reached the library and raced inside. When she checked behind her, there was no sign of him, and she was once again able to take some deep breaths to calm herself down.
She looked up and saw the librarian behind the front desk was waving to her and she smiled and waved back. Sandy Alvarez had been the main librarian for years and today Jasmine remembered her. She waved back and headed upstairs to the historical fiction section, her favorite part of the building. The library had always been her sanctuary from the chaos of the rest of the world and later, after the head injury, it protected her from the chaos of her mind. She found a kind of peace there that she couldn’t find anywhere else. Everything was always where it was supposed to be and it was reassuring that there was still some kind of order in her world. She reached the top of the stairs and turned to her right. She was surprised to see a group of children sitting on benches in the center of the floor. They were listening to Sandy read a story to them. She had never seen Sandy away from the front desk before and wondered where the regular children’s librarian was. She edged closer to the group and listened to Sandy read a story about a mouse during the French Revolution. The children seemed transfixed and soon, Jasmine was listening as raptly as the children. After all, she did love history, although her readings had rarely included mice.
The children clapped when the story was over and urged Sandy to read one more book to them. Jasmine turned and headed to the familiar shelves of the history section. Except the familiar shelves weren’t there. How could that be? Instead, the shelves were filled with picture books and chapter books, easy readers and middle-grade books, and so much more that had nothing to do with historical fiction for adults. Had the historical fiction section been moved? If yes, where to? And why? And how?
Sandy stood up to stretch before reading the next book to the children. She smiled as Jasmine approached tentatively. “Can I help you, dear?”
Jasmine didn’t know what to say. How could she explain that an entire section of the library seemed to be missing? “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering where the historical fiction section has been moved to?”
Sandy examined Jasmine’s face with concern. “My dear, the historical fiction section is downstairs, where it’s always been. If you wait until I’m done with our next book, I can take you there.”
Jasmine stared at her in surprise. The historical fiction section had been upstairs for as long as she had been coming to this library, which was pretty much forever. Or at least, it felt that way. What was Sandy talking about? And why was she addressing her as if she were a stranger? “Um, no, that’s OK. I’ll find it, thank you.” And she fled towards the stairs and headed to the first floor.
Halfway down, the stairs suddenly morphed into a mound of orange Jell-O and she felt like she was transforming into a puddle of liquid with no center. A jolt rocketed through her body as she reached the bottom step and she grabbed the banister to keep from falling. She staggered towards the shelves behind the stairs and finally found the historical fiction section. There sat some of her favorite books and she started to find her footing. Still dizzy, she held onto the shelves as she made her way down the rows of familiar books. Her favorites took place during World War II and there were plenty of those to be had. But she had always found that any well-written book dealing with historical subjects could get her attention and she read the backs of several books before adding them to her stack.
Instead of leaving once she had found five books that piqued her interest (two of which she had read before but looked forward to reading again), she sat at a small table by the window and decided to rest there for a while before heading out. She picked up the book on top of the stack, which was about two friends in the early 1900s who rebelled against the norms of the day, fighting for the right for women to vote. They each found love with two very different men and that strained their friendship as their lifestyles changed – as did their priorities. Jasmine sank deeper into the chair as she began to read.
“Hi, Jasmine,” came a voice from behind her. She looked up, startled, and there was the man who had approached her in the park. She wanted to jump up and flee, but also didn’t want to cause a scene.
“Hello,” Jasmine said, trying to stifle her panic.
“Do you remember me?” he asked.
Jasmine shook her head, searching her memory for him. There was something familiar about his voice, but not familiar enough for full recognition. “I’m sorry?” she said questioningly.
“I’m Scott,” he said soothingly. “We lived next door to each other when we were kids, don’t you remember? We hung out almost every day. We were best friends. You loved to come over and play with our dog, Duchess. Do you remember Duchess?”
“Duchess,” Jasmine said softly. In her mind, she saw a sweet yellow lab bounding towards her, tail wagging, knocking her over and covering her face with kisses. “Duchess,” Jasmine said again, smiling.
Scott nodded his head vigorously. “I used to think you wanted to visit with the Duchess more than me. And that was OK, she was the best dog.”
“Where is Duchess?” Jasmine asked, looking around as if Duchess might suddenly appear.
“She died when we were in high school,” Scott replied, staring at her intensely.
Jasmine started to cry. “I loved her,” she said softly.
“She got old, Jasmine.”
“Do you still live in your house?” she asked.
“Well, I left after college. Do you remember that I used to visit you when I came back to see my parents? But then they moved away, and they asked me if I wanted to move back into their house so they wouldn’t have to sell it to strangers.”
Jasmine processed his words. She remembered Duchess, but had no real memory of Scott. Should she tell him? Should she explain what had happened to her? She was trying to decide when suddenly the ground convulsed. She was thrown from her chair and flung against the window. There was nothing for her to hold onto as books and shelves went crashing onto the floor. She screamed. When it finally stopped, she opened her eyes.
She was standing by the entrance to the library, five books in her arms. Everything looked as it had when she had first arrived. Sandy Alvarez was sitting at the main desk as always. She looked up when she saw Jasmine. “Did you want to check those out, Jasmine?” she asked.
“What?” Jasmine said in confusion. “What just happened?”
“What just happened where?” Sandy wondered.
“Here. The earthquake. Everything was…” Jasmine motioned around the library. But everything was back to normal. Nothing was out of place. And, there was no sign of Scott.
“Would you like to sit down, dear?” Sandy asked with concern.
Jasmine continued to look around and shook her head. “No… well, maybe,” she answered.
Sandy stepped out from behind the desk and led Jasmine to the table where she had just been sitting. But everything was fine. “Can I get you some water?” Sandy inquired.
“Where is the historical fiction section?” Jasmine asked nervously.
“Why, Jasmine, you’ve been coming here all your life practically,” Sandy said. “It’s still upstairs where it’s always been. Believe me, we’re not moving anything here.”
“I’d like to go upstairs,” Jasmine said.
“If you feel up to it, please go ahead,” Sandy told her.
Jasmine stood, picked up her books, and headed towards the stairs. When she got to the top, she hesitantly turned to the right. There they were, the shelves lined with the historical fiction books that she loved. She went to the sky-blue tufted armchair that she usually sat in, next to the window that looked out on the garden and surveyed her surroundings. Everything was as it had always been. Her head was throbbing and she rifled through her purse for some painkillers. When she found them, she swallowed two without any water until they got stuck in her throat and she raced to the nearby water fountain to finally force them down. She turned to go back to her chair, but she couldn’t find it. It was as if someone had rearranged the library with lightning speed while her back was turned. She was back in the children’s section, where there were even more little ones than before. Sandy was there, too, trying to keep the children from talking too loudly. And suddenly a dog barked. Sandy bent down to pet the beautiful golden lab and asked her not to bark so loudly. Jasmine stared at the dog and started to cough. It couldn’t be. But suddenly the dog looked up and joyfully bounded towards Jasmine.
“Duchess?” Jasmine cried.
The dog barked again and knocked Jasmine over, covering her face with kisses.
“But how?” Jasmine asked.
“She’s here for you,” Scott said, having appeared beside Sandy.
“For me?” Jasmine asked. “But how? Why?”
“She knows you need her,” Scott said.
Jasmine didn’t care anymore. There was sweet Duchess filling her with so much love. Jasmine hugged her and her tears froze into the sweet dog’s fur, branching out like dendrites.
Jasmine scanned the children’s area. No one aside from Scott was paying any attention to her lying on the floor, hugging a large dog. More children appeared and it was getting hard for Jasmine to catch her breath. She held onto Duchess like a lifeline. She started to stand up and her body was suddenly jerked across the room and rammed into the wall. She lost hold of Duchess. The room started to spin upside down and in circles, like she was on a wild ride at Disneyland. “No!” Jasmine managed to cry before her head smashed onto the floor, then the shelves toppled on top of her and she was buried under a pile of books.
The wail of an ambulance filled the air and the EMTs raced in. Sandy stood by the door, waiting anxiously for them and pointed to the floor where a young woman lay. A man was kneeling next to her.
“What happened?” one of the EMTs asked as they approached.
“She seemed OK,” the man replied. “And then suddenly she couldn’t stand up and she fell and hit her head on the floor.”
One of the EMTs checked for a pulse and listened to her chest. “Miss? Miss? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?” There was no response. He shone a light into her eyes. “We’re going to need to get her to the hospital immediately. Looks like she has a pretty severe head injury. Does anyone know her?
The man looked up. “Yes, her name is Jasmine Granger.”
“Do you know if anything like this has happened before?” the EMT asked.
The man nodded. “It has. More than once. Can I ride along in the ambulance with her?”
The EMT looked at him. “Sorry, sir, family only.”
The man stared at the EMT. “I’m Scott Granger. Jasmine is my wife.”
The EMTs strapped Jasmine to a gurney and motioned for Scott to follow them as they ran to the ambulance. Scott jumped into the back after Jasmine was brought inside and held her hand. “I’m sorry you have to go through this again,” he whispered. “But I’m here for you. They’ll fix you this time. And remember, Duchess is always with you, watching over you. She won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He looked up at the sky racing past the window. “Take care of our girl, Duchess, please,” he said softly, looking up. “Please.”//
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Machlis Rechtman has had poetry and short stories published in Your Daily Poem, Writing In A Woman’s Voice, Grande Dame, Impspired, miniMAG, Young Ravens, Discretionary Love, and poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies.
She wrote freelance Lifestyle stories for a local newspaper, and she was the copy editor for another paper. She has had several stories published in Highlights Magazine for Children, stories published in several other children’s magazines, several children’s plays and musicals, both produced and published.
She writes a blog called Inanities at https://nancywriteon.wordpress.com.
Her Facebook Author page can be found at Nancy Machlis Rechtman, Author.
About the Author
