Prairie Sky Books Revisited

This is a scene that I kept trying to keep in for various reasons at various times, but it just never worked. This first version included Officer Richmond’s wife, but once I got rid of him, it made no sense to have her here. There is an alternate version of this scene with Big Jerry’s wife that I am posting next. One thing I wanted to establish was that Carol missed work because she was sick, which leads to her death later, but I don’t think that ever worked either. Some good ideas here, with some poor execution that didn’t make sense in the final edit. By the way, some of the dialouge here was from the original ending of the book, and I did end up repurposing it elsewhere in the book.

The drive to Prairie Sky Books unfolded in a heavy, fragile silence neither of them quite knew how to break. The tension from the apartment was still sitting between them, a physical weight that made the hum of the car tires against the asphalt sound incredibly loud.

When Ethan pulled into the gravel lot of the independent bookstore, he let out a slow breath, staring at the familiar hand-painted sign swinging in the Iowa breeze. Ethan took her hand gently, but she was staring out the window, not sure what to say.

“I can probably do this myself if you need some time,” Ethan said.

“No, an assistant’s job is never done. Sorry I am being so broody. Your hills must have infected me.”

They headed into the shop. Cheryl and Crystal both approached them immediately. It turned out Carol had taken the day off sick, but the twins knew exactly where the boxes were waiting. HarperCollins had sent over four more boxes of Where the Heather Blooms that Ethan had told Carol he would sign for the store. It seemed like no one was able to keep the book in stock.

As they headed toward the back room, a woman moved to intercept them. She was Black, in her late thirties, with eyes that seemed like they could go from loving to deadly in a matter of seconds. “Mister Blackwood?”

He smiled at her warmly. “Hi. Were you here at the signing last month? I’m sorry, I don’t think I remember you.”

“Not exactly. My name is Kendra Richmond.” Her tone was cautious.

Ethan immediately made the connection. “Officer Richmond’s wife! Did you get the books I sent over? I’m sorry I didn’t get to bring them over myself or personalize them. I was kind of between assistants at the time, and I needed to get to Des Moines.”

Kendra looked puzzled. “I got them. But I don’t think I understand why you sent them.”

“Because your husband said you were a fan,” Ethan said simply, as if that explained it all.

Kendra let out a soft breath, studying him. “You aren’t quite what my husband described. He said you were big and burly. Kind of scary-looking."

Allison chimed in deadpan, “He had left his sword at home that day.”

A small, amused smile cracked Kendra's guarded expression. “Brian felt bad about what happened. I just wanted you to know that.”

Ethan said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Don’t get me wrong, I am still not entirely sure if I laid down in a puddle or peed myself that night, but it all worked out. How is he doing?”

They exchanged some more comfortable small talk before parting ways on warm terms. They even got a dinner invite so Ethan could actually personalize the books next time. Allison and Ethan made it to the back room without encountering anyone else, the door clicking shut behind them.

Allison pulled a utility knife from her bag and sliced open the first box.

Ethan asked, “Do you always carry a knife on you?”

“This bag has everything. Never doubt that I will always have exactly what you need.”

“That’s damn efficient.”

Allison’s posture tightened as she was reminded of the tense moment back at her apartment. “Come on, let’s just get this done.”

For twenty minutes, they fell into their rhythm. Allison sliced open the heavy cardboard boxes, sliding each hardcover book onto the folding table, while Ethan worked his way through the pages with his silver Sharpie. It was fast, mechanical, and entirely coordinated.

"Your signature is actually legible today," Allison noted quietly, slicing open the final box. "No ink-spider seizures."

"I'm trying to impress the locals, Hart," Ethan said, a ghost of his usual roguish smirk trying to break through. 

“So, are you ready to be back home?”

Ethan had to admit, “I don’t really know if I will ever consider Columbus home. It’s just where I store things, mostly.”

“Oh, come on. You need to be excited about seeing your mom at least?”

“Oh, sure, but…” He dragged out the response, capping his pen.

“What?”

“There really isn’t much excitement there. What we did the last few weeks, that is the exciting part of the job. I would do that part for free. This next bit is the worst.”

“But you love writing stories!”

“Yeah, but I do all that in my head. Making up and telling stories is not the same thing as writing down stories.”

“I can help.”

Ethan’s eyes fell to the ground. “You really can’t.”

He had a brief, fleeting thought about Moira and his other past assistants. When they left, it had been an inconvenience. But as he looked at Allison standing across the folding table, he realized that if she ever decided to go, it wouldn’t just be a logistics issue. It would completely hollow him out. 

Allison handed him the last book, entirely missing the sudden panic in his eyes. “Now who’s brooding? You forget that I am amazing at my job. We got this, Highlander.”

Ethan smiled. The expression looked strangely fragile.