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Back The Silence of the Library
Chapters (50)
  1. COVER
  2. PRAISE FOR TITLES BY MIRANDA JAMES
  3. ALSO BY MIRANDA JAMES
  4. TITLE PAGE
  5. COPYRIGHT
  6. DEDICATION
  7. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. AFTERWORD
  49. LETTER TO THE READER
  50. SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART

“Don’t worry. I know what you’re thinking. I am not going to screw this up. Alex is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’d be a world-class idiot to let her get away.”

“You’ll work it out somehow, I’m sure.” I gently moved Diesel from my lap so I could stand. “If there’s anything I can do, you know all you have to do is ask.”

“I know.” Sean dropped his cigar in the ashtray and came over to give me a quick, fierce hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

That lump was back. I swallowed hard as Sean stepped away to pick up his cigar.

“I have things that need doing,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “So Diesel and I will leave you to it. Come on, boy, back in the house.”

Diesel followed me, but I opened the door this time. As Diesel ambled through, I glanced back at my son. He stared out at the backyard and smoked. I sighed as I closed the door.

Time to box up the books I was lending for the exhibit of juvenile series books at the library. The cartons I needed were in the utility room, and while I was there, I added some dry food to Diesel’s bowl and rinsed out his water bowl and refilled it. I pulled two medium-sized cartons from the shelf and left Diesel noisily crunching as I headed for the stairs.

Happy to note that I wasn’t breathing all that hard by the time I reached the third floor, I decided I wasn’t in such bad shape after all.

Moments later, when I squatted in front of the shelves to retrieve a few books from the bottom, I revised my opinion. My knees creaked, and I had to grab on to an upper shelf to pull myself up. I moved stiffly as I put the books in a carton atop the bed.

I turned to examine the shelves and let my eyes roam over the spines. Where are the Cherry Ames books? I wondered. I finally spotted them in the upper left corner, against the back wall of the bedroom. I couldn’t reach the books without an uncomfortable stretch, so I retrieved the upholstered ottoman from its place in front of an old easy chair.

I stepped onto the ottoman and tested my balance. Confident that I could reach up without straining, I retrieved a couple of the volumes from the shelf—one of the older ones with a dust jacket and the green-spined final book in the series, Cherry Ames, Ski Nurse.