A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 43: A Terrible Crime

I bounce a little with excitement at the thought of going to the library.

I also find myself hoping that I'll bump into Eli again. But I doubt he has to make another important decision so soon. And even if he has to, maybe he doesn't need a book to guide him this time. Maybe he found another way. He didn't need a book that time when he met me. My hand wraps itself around my locket as I ruminate about the guy I saw once at the library for a few minutes.

I make my way through the old entrance of the massive building. Phina isn't at her desk and it isn't raining; so I take the liberty to assume that she's busy doing something else besides making hot chocolate for the readers at the library.

For nostalgia's sake, I head to the fantasy section. It was near this aisle that Eli almost tripped me over to get to a random aisle ahead. I instantly chide myself for getting my hopes up.

But then I see him. And hope within me shoots high into the heavens above. Wearing a smart brown suit and his hair professionally swept sideways, he looks like a sharp trusty librarian. A frown seems to be preoccupying him and thankfully he does not notice me standing there just gaping at him for God knows how long. Until he does, and a strange expression of surprise cascades across his face. I, on the other hand, have transmorphed into an orangutan at the zoo — watch me be an epitome of grace.

"Hi," I squeak.

"Hey...Jemmalyn!" He deduces with a blinding white smile.

"You needed to see the books, again?" I ask with more tenacity than that of a squeak.

"Yes, looks like it. I'm going to be walking on thin ice at work for a while."

"Sounds tough," I say sympathetically. "How did it go yesterday?" It'll be embarrassing if he doesn't remember our conversation about his decision-making; I wouldn't blame him though, it feels like lifetimes ago to me.

He smiles with a hint of pride, "Very well, actually. All thanks to you, I have to admit," but then he frowns. "I didn't need to get words of wisdom from a book yesterday, somehow...just talking to you made a difference."

I feel the blood rush to my face and naturally to cancel out its effect, I let out a nonchalant chuckle that sounds like a frog mid-choke. "You give me too much credit, it must've been a fluke." I nervously shove a hand into my pocket and retrieve a stone, briefly distracting his piercing gaze from me, "Anyhow, I think I have something that might help you."

I move closer and hand him the gemstone, while simultaneously trying to moisten my dry throat. What is happening to me? Involuntary reactions worse than an allergy. What happened to the holistically immune girl with a perennially steady chemical balance?

For a few moments, he stares quietly at the stone with a mixture of gratitude and confusion.

"It's a gemstone, it's called jade. It helps with clear thinking and decision making," I inform him, sharing the information I remember from what the doctor, Ransom told me. Ransom and Eli. They were such contrasts to each other. But I hoped that if Ransom benefited from the stone, it would do the same for Eli. In that aspect, the two had something in common.

"Oh?" he says, "Are you a healer of some sort? The kind that uses gems for cures?" He asks curiously. My pulse begins to race. I'm a thief caught committing a terrible crime.

"Not exactly, but there's nothing wrong with having some faith, it's just a stone."

"It's beautiful," he affirms like the others before him. His black eyes fix on my brown ones, searching for something.

Before I melt into a puddle of human on the ground, I desperately look into the tresses of my brain for something else to say. "So did you find a book today? You were already here when I found you," I stammer at him.

"Yes, I did actually. But I think there may be something off about Avian Oaks. The words don't make any sense. I was just reading them when I saw you. See?"

He holds out a leather bound book towards me titled "The Brief History of Pottery", and points to a line in the middle of an already open page:

Implements made of clay are still commonly used among some communities in the far East.

I stare back and forth between the words and him. Is he messing with me? But he continues look back at me with sincere dark eyes. Like he truly believes I can solve this unusual riddle for him.

"Yes, I can see why that may sound off. But it is only a pottery book, it can only say so much about pottery. You shouldn't blame Avian Oaks for your book choice," I pronounce my verdict.

"I know, I know. But it always works. Even with vague unassuming facts like this one, they always help me in some way," he stares at the words with unnecessary intensity.

"Unless your decision revolves around clay, those words are useless to you. Or to anyone else for that matter, no offense to pottery enthusiasts."

He smiles at this, closes the thick book and slides it back into place on the shelf. He looks at the jade between his index finger and thumb and then furtively glances at me for assurance. I nod at him and he stuffs the gem into the safety of his jacket.

"I have to see you again," he concludes with a sly twist spreading across his brilliant face.