Megan's Port-Side Life and the  Mystery of Kyle
The gray and misty morning would bring customers.
Then He Re-focused on Her

~ Excerpt ~

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She knew it would be a good book store day, as Thursdays often were. A tune of humming escaped her as the aroma of old and new books met each opening of the door. It was a nostalgic scent which many seasoned book shops have. Perhaps it was imagination, but to her it was real; this one had a special, musty scent of rare books too.

 

There was an hour before opening time to pull on-line orders, adding to the balance of yesterday’s.

Megan was multi-tasking while Joanne was visiting her mom.

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The manuscript crunches a given. She always brought her own laptop to work, and placing it on her desk, she hoped there would be a little time to work on formatting before customers arrived.

Directly facing Highway 101, during summer there was a fray of walkers, but mostly locals, as they well knew the shop.

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The bookstore was more of a perk for the publisher and her own books than the supposed purpose of foot traffic. Publishing and on-line book sales were the primary business. The flags out by the road were for those who were not aware.

Finished pulling new orders, she went about opening the blinds, turning the lights on, and then went out to set the flags.

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Nobody in sight anywhere. She stayed a few moments to breathe in the lake air and enjoy the August summer morning.

Back inside, coffee brewing, she put herself in serious format mode. Working for about an hour, it fully engrossed her mind; when the door opened, and looking up, she observed a strikingly handsome silver-haired man enter.

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Standing up then, she walked over to the checkout counter, saying, “Hello.”

He replied, “It’s a kind of gray sky drizzly bookshop day, isn’t it?”

She smiled and said, “Yes, the prelude to fall seems to be our guest today.”

He smiled, displaying a gold filling, probably a crown, reminding her of a preacher as a child she didn't trust. It was quite disconcerting.. He was staring at her so intently; and she dropped her eyes. Then, avoiding his eyes, and sweeping her arm in a half circle, asked, “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

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Watching him for a moment, he continued to stare at her, and Megan blushed. He unnerved her so completely she was flustered.  He did not answer.  She went on, trying to compose herself. “We have many sections, novel, history, biographical and research, etc., or are you just browsing today?”

 

He answered, “Actually, I heard your bookstore has a large inventory of WW2 historic literature, so I thought I’d stop in?”

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Megan started to reply, but he went on, “I’m on a quest of sorts.”

 

She said, “Yes, we have many historical books you will find interesting.” Picking up her cell phone, she walked over to him, saying, “Follow me.”  They walked towards the history room; she pointing down the hallway and walking slightly ahead of him, listening as he explained further about his research and family, saying he made a special trip to browse the bookstore inventory, but knew the area because when his children were young, they lived in New York, but vacationed on the west coast.

 

Reaching the shelves and waving her arm in a sweep, she said, “If I can help you find anything . . .?”

They stood before the many shelves containing these historical books, arranged so that some of them faced outwards to front cover, and the ones chosen were for the impact, Rare books, most first editions and in pristine condition.

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His eyes widened, he whispered. “Amazing!”  Then he re-focused on her. A half smile on his lips, as if he knew her intimately, unnerving her once more.

 

Just then the phone rang, and, feeling herself blushing, pivoted away, saying, “Excuse me, I need to get the phone. I’ll be at my desk if you need any help?”

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He nodded, and she left him there; hurriedly returned to her desk and answered the call. It was a simple title inquiry: she looked up and went back to work on the manuscript.  But she had trouble concentrating for some time. Eventually her focus returned, and when she heard a sound looked up to see him walking towards the counter.

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It had been so quiet, she almost forgot there was anyone in the store. She got up and walked to the checkout counter, saying, “Well, it looks like you found what you were looking for. That’s great!”

 

The man replied, “Indeed, and I will be back for more.”

 

“That’s great.” She was already booting the shop computer into sales mode as he laid them on the counter. She could tell this would be a huge sale.  The books he chose were expensive first editions. She knew them because of entering them into the database.

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Making normal customer, touristy invitation to where he was from, and he responded with the basics, the sale entry would take a few minutes, and Megan was glad there wasn’t a line of customers waiting behind him.  It took time to write the sales ticket as each book had codes and, for inventory, important to be complete.  When she finished writing, she began entering the computer sales.

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He continued his family story and handed her his credit card to process.  She was not hearing much of it, as there were so many things to manage in this sale, but the shop was still empty of other customers, which helped.  Finishing the charge, she pulled the signature portion for him to sign; and began wrapping the books in tissue paper.

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No other customers waiting. She unhurriedly placed them in two shop logo bags,  Her ears picked up these last comments as they completed the sale. “My wife Emily and I moved from New York to Eugene a few years back.”

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“I see,” Megan replied, so he could continue if he wished. She waited.

 

He spoke softly then, “Emily had Cancer, it was terminal, and she passed away about two years ago.”

 

Megan looked up at him, meeting his eyes, saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”  As she did, noticing he was looking at her with the same intensity as when he entered the building. It unnerved her once more. Why did this bother her so much?

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Looking down, she was in a caution mode for an unknown reason, yet it was pervasive and she would keep from looking straight at him afterwards.  Even though his disclosure of family was a normal scene, like any tourist, it wasn’t somehow.

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He continued, but nothing more about his wife’s death. He deliberately changed the subject back to the interest in book subject. “You asked how I knew about the inventory?”

 

She nodded, thinking he must not wish to talk about that subject, and moved into his conversation then.

Yes, I would love to let Joanne know how you came to find us. She is the owner of the bookstore and also the person who purchased the inventory.

 

Kyle nodded an understanding, then stated, “Someone I’ve known most of my life, with a similar history quest, stopped here a while back.”  He went on. “My friend told me I should stop by here on one of my trips. I have a family history from Poland during the war and have an interest in old photographs of . . .” he hesitated. “To be honest, the Death Camps and the Ghetto in Poland.”

 

“Ah, I see.” Her reply was intuitive, quiet. Waiting for more, asking no further questions.  Silence hung in the air as she waited for him to continue. None of my business, she thought, but not surprised at his book interest after he mentioned Poland.

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Studying him for a moment, his age could mean he is a survivor?

 

As if knowing her thoughts, he said, “I was there.”

 

“Oh, my God, you must have been a small child?”

He nodded and then answered, “I was five years old.”

 

“That must have been terrible for you.”

 

He said quietly, “I lost my entire family in the camps.”

 

For a few moments, she could not take her eyes off his face, unreadable, except for a deep, sad look as forlorn as a lost child. Megan stood speechless, aware that she was standing in the presence of a Holocaust Survivor.

 

He said, “There are reasons for my interest.”

 

She replied, “Well now you know where to look for your interest, right here.”

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He looked up at her then, with a steady watch, as if he wanted to ask her something. What she did not know, but again, she felt herself blushing.  Turning away from his gaze; wishing someone would enter to take her away from him, she walked towards the door and he followed, not hurrying, but he took the not too subtle hint, saying, “I’m retired now, but I continue to book a lot of speaking engagements on a medical project which has involved me for some years. I do a lot of traveling, so I will stop in again soon.”

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Glancing back at him, still disquieted at him intently, almost looking through or into her very being, she was also noting his very handsome face, somewhat chiseled in lines, a meticulous man with blue-green eyes that held something mysterious.

 

He looked at her again in that intense, almost intimate way. And that is when lightning struck them both. That first recognition of something that held sway to the future.  She could not pull her gaze away. Heart beating so fast and strong, she thought she could not contain it for a moment.  Forcing herself to look away, she hoped he hadn’t noticed. That would be impossible, because they both realized instantaneously.

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Trying to speak calmly, she said something like, “These books are rarities, and the topic is not for all buyers; so I’m happy you found a few you were looking for.” Words spoken to hide the sudden rush of something beyond the limits, yet totally understood.

 

They both stood silent, eyes not meeting now, awkward, before she said, “Joanne will be happy with your  purchase.”  Then, looking up at him directly, “Kyle, if I can help you find anything further in our book inventory, please let me know.”

 

He nodded, and as they reached the door, she opened it.

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It was then she saw the car and gulped back a gasp.  It was the black Cadillac.

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His crisp white shirt sleeve, rolled up to the elbow, revealed part of a tattoo of numbers showing just below the cuff.  She said nothing further, but handed him a brochure and the shop business card.

 

Then he asked, “Will I see you the next time?”

 

She answered, “Well, probably, I work on most weekdays and the occasional Saturday.”

 

He said, “Great.” Then he said, “Could I ask your name?”

 

“Of course, it’s Megan.”

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Wondering about it briefly, but staying in her place, not adding any encouragement. But the turn of his hand revealed he was not wearing a wedding band any longer.  Why should you care, Megan? He is just a customer?

Liar.  Suddenly, she was blushing at her own thoughts as he stepped out the door and walked to his car.