The Curse of the Berinstein Manor, Forest Ostrander [beach books TXT] 📗

half of the library where the kids and teen books were located and a small computer lab that was for research purposes only or ordering books from other libraries, all other websites that were not considered research or library websites was blocked from the computers access unless you had a code to get past the barrier, only a selected few had the code and I was one of them, mainly because they know I would do nothing wrong on the computer so they trusted me more than the other people who came into the library. The entire bottom floor contained shelves upon shelves of history books, books on court and police, ancient files for ancestor searching and what not, the bottom floor was where I liked to remain, not because I didn’t like being upstairs but because I really like getting lost more in the history of things than anything else.

                Walking up to the red oak desk I rang the small, silver bell that you would see at hotels to signal one of the librarians that I was there. A small room in the back contained a cafeteria like setting for the librarians that many of them like to disappear into and talk about books, their lives at home or anything that happened to pass their minds. I was once allowed back into that room when the head librarian was watching me until my parents came to get me that one time I ran away from my grandparent’s house. It was a beautiful room painted in a calming blue, though the tables in there where those white plastic ones they had a beautiful counter topped with a sink, coffee pot and microwave. The librarians had their own cupboards with their names on them where they hid their own snacks; they also had a mini fridge that contained their cold foods and beverages. An old oak door opened from the room and I was happy to see Mrs. Juddy come out with a smile on her face.

“Why hello Forest!” Mrs. Juddy said beaming; she was one of my favorite librarians that worked here.

“Hello Mrs. Juddy, how’s Eddie doing?” I asked. Eddie was Mrs. Juddy’s son who I simply adored, the last time I saw him was when he was a little baby crying in his mother’s arms.

“Oh he’s doing fine. He started kindergarten not too long ago and is simply enjoying it there. I get little hand paintings every day, you should see my fridge!” She exclaimed and we both laughed, like me Eddie loved doing art, I had once bought him his own washable finger painting kit for his birthday and he went ecstatic over it.

“That’s good to here. How have you been?” I asked trying to catch up with the missed years.

“I’ve been doing ok; I started to go to church these days. I felt like it was time I finally embraced the Lord and welcome him into my life once more.”

“Oh?” I asked, Mrs. Juddy hadn’t been really religious before and although she had gone to church a few times before she never could really get into it, hearing she was going there once more now pleased me.

“How’s Eddie taking it there?” I asked, Eddie was a different matter all together, he hated to sit still for too long and church was not something he would find to his liking until he was a bit older with more patience.

“He likes it, they have built a toddler room for the little ones now, and it sure helps out us adults though sometimes you can hear the little tikes screaming in the upstairs room when they play games.” I laughed; I could see the pastor trying to give a preaching with little high pitched screams breaking in every chance he got to something. Father Tom may have enjoyed kids, but he didn’t like his services being interrupted every time.

“I bet that makes it interesting,” I said chuckling, Mrs. Juddy chuckled too.

“It is funny; every time he goes to speak a kid screams right at the exact moment his mouth opens so it looks like he was the one making the screaming. All of us crack up every time.” I could picture it, it did sound funny to see a pastor trying to talk only to look like he is screaming like a little kid, and I hoped that won’t make him take out the room. If it kept the little kids entertained and away from the services he should be pleased about that.

“I hope he doesn’t remove the room because of it,” I said worried about some parents getting angry at the church and Father Tom.

“Oh I’m sure he won’t, he cracks up as well and makes jokes about it,” Mrs. Juddy said.

“That’s good,” I replied feeling relieved that he wasn’t going to get rid of the room.

“Now what can I do for you Mrs. Ostrander?” Mrs. Juddy asked as if she were running a high tech business. I laughed; she always tried to make people’s stay there entertaining and fun.

“I was hoping you would have a history book on this town,” I said.

“I think I might. Hang on, I’ll go check for you,” she said once more disappearing in a different room. I stood there waiting and when she came back she was carrying an old, worn leather book that looked like it had seen better years.

“Here we go, sorry about its condition. Someone had it shoved under a bunch of crap in the attic.”

“Oh that’s ok, hopefully the pages aren’t too damaged,” I said. I knew only too well what happens to books over the years if not taken care of.

“No, the pages are still readable, it’s the cover that’s a different matter,” Mrs. Juddy said checking the book out for me and handing it to me. I looked at the cover, the leather was indeed splitting and cracking but all in all it looked to be good, the gold lettering still shined somewhat in the light.

“Thanks Mrs. Juddy, I best be off now. Grandma will be expecting me home soon.”

“All right dear, take care.” I smiled and waved but before I could leave the building Mrs. Juddy stopped me.

“Wait!” She said coming from behind the counter and coming up to me.

“Ya?” I asked wondering what she wanted.

“You never told me about your folks, how are they doing?” She asked and I had hoped she didn’t bring up the matter, the deaths of my parents was still raw on my heart and hearing them be brought up once more really took me back.

“They…died,” I said as low as I could get, I didn’t want the other people in the library to hear my personal business.

“Oh, oh my. I’m so sorry dear, how are you holding up?” Mrs. Juddy asked and I looked at her, I could see tears in her eyes but like me she was trying to hold them back.

“I’m…surviving I guess. It’s still hard to believe that they are gone. It’s almost like they are on a long vacation and will be back any minute,” I said but I knew deep down inside that they would never be back.

                I felt arms wrap around me as Mrs. Juddy pulled me into a hug, having lost her mother before she knew what it was like to lose a parent and I welcomed her embrace. I didn’t know I was crying until I felt a smooth hand motion on my back and heard the light sobbing and felt the wet spot on her shirt from my tears and at that moment I didn’t care on if people were watching, I didn’t care if they thought I was weak, right now I felt like I needed to let it all out and Mrs. Juddy presented herself as a good form to just let my tears flow.

“There, there. Let it all out Forest, it’s not healthy bottling up your emotions,” she said in a soothing voice but I too could hear her own tears in her tone as she tried to fight them back.

“I’m..S-sorry…Mr-Mrs Juddy,” I said through sobs.

“Shh, there is nothing to be sorry about Forest; your heart is aching so it’s only right to let it out,” she said holding me closer and I hugged her back.

“Th-Thank you,” I said a bit calmer now. I pulled away and felt bad, the whole front of her shirt had a huge wet stain on it from my crying and I was embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” I said looking down at my feet.

“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s not like I don’t have a kid of my own who doesn’t cry,” she said brushing my apology away.

“I should be going, thanks again Mrs. Juddy,” I said.

“No problem dear, now if you ever want to talk don’t be afraid to stop over at my place. I’ll make you some nice chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate,” I smiled and hugged her.

“I will,” I said once more breaking away and leaving the library behind.

                Taking the short cut through the trees I arrived home just in the nick of time before nightfall came and I could instantly smell dinner cooking.

“I’m home,” I said closing the door behind me and placing the book on the coffee table next to the stairs.

“Hello dear,” my grandma called from within the kitchen. I walked into the room and helped her with the remaining dishes.

“How was school?” She asked.

“Ok, we had to draw something we missed dearly in art today,” I said.

“Oh? Do show me after dinner,” she said smiling at me and placing the washed dishes in the dish strainer.

“Ok, when can we eat by the way?” I asked all of a sudden hungry enough to eat a cow.

“You can help yourself, dinner’s already done.” I took a plate down from the cupboard above the stove and piled my plate full of steak and potatoes. Sitting down at the table I began to eat and grandma joined me not too long after. When dinner was finished and our plates were washed I handed her my sketchbook. She took it and began looking through my sketches.

“Wow, these are really good,” she said motioning to my house sketches and flower sketches.

“Thanks,” I said a bit shyly. I was not used to too much praise on my drawings, I didn’t think they were good enough despite me having a few art museums purchase some of my drawings or being featured in countless art shows. When she stopped I knew she had come to my art class project, a sketching of my parents.

“I know, I wanted to draw something else but my hand just sketched them out of its own accord,” I said lowering my eyes. I hated knowing that I had ripped the band-aid off of my grandma’s heart by drawing my parents, she had finally gotten over their deaths and now she has to once more look at her child and his wife all over again and re-live that fateful day.

“It’s ok,” she said but I could hear the crack in her voice signaling that the tears were coming. I took my sketchbook back and apologized once more before picking up the old book from the library and disappearing in my room. I felt like a total jerk for letting her see the picture, what was I thinking to have drawn my parents? And why did I let grandma see it? I knew I was beating myself up over letting her see my drawing but she had been the most effected out of all of us.

“I’m sorry grandma,” I whispered once in my room, I felt like shit. It was bad enough that she has to look at me everyday knowing I was the one who survived and not my parents, I knew she doesn’t mean to think those thoughts but I couldn’t blame her, I blamed myself for not dying along with my parents, I found it unfair that I was the one who survived and not them.

“Why didn’t