The Colors They Forgot

 

The Colors They Forgot

 

 

               Jane traced her finger along the dusty book spines, leaving a clear trail on the plastic jacket covers.  When she had pried the two-by-fours from the doorway and stepped into the building in search of useful items to restock their dwindling supplies, this wasn’t what she had hoped to find, but a faint smile upturned the corners of her lips.  It had been a decade since she had shared a room with so many books or idled in the stacks at a library.  She pulled a random book from the shelf, flipping through the pages and marveling at how well the collection had held up despite the turmoil of the world.  Lifting the book up to her nose, she inhaled the slightly musty and familiar scent of paper and ink. As dust filled her sinuses, she let loose a mighty sneeze that echoed through the dark library. 

               “Mom?” her daughter called out from somewhere deeper inside the building.  “Are you okay?”

               Jane picked her way over the debris from another time as she followed the sound of her daughter’s voice.  Drawers from a card catalogue were overturned in the aisle, and index cards scattered the floor like windblown leaves.  Art supplies, broken keyboards and monitors, and everything else deemed useless in the days following the asteroid strike littered her path.  It seemed a miracle that the books were largely untouched. Most paper products had long ago been scavenged and thrown into fires for cooking and warmth. The volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and tsunamis that consumed the planet in the asteroid’s wake had left little room for leisure or learning. Jane still dreamed of the weeks and months when volcanic ash drifted from the sky like dirty snow, sealing the country into an eternal winter.

               “Aww… there you are!” Jane said as she rounded a shelf and found her daughter sitting on the water-stained carpet, staring up at the stacks in the dim gray light. Like most children these days, Anne was scrawny and small for her twelve years.  She was travel dusty, but her warm, layered clothes were carefully patched and her long dark hair, close to the same shade as Janes short-cropped ebony locks, hung down her back in two neat braids. Her pale skin had never been touched by sunlight, and a smile lit up her face like a luminous little moon under the shadowy shelves when her mother came into view.

               “I can’t believe we found all of these books, Mom!” Anne gushed as her eyes scanned the titles of the shelved books.  She pulled a fat tome down and held Melville’s Moby Dick out to her mother.  “Look at this one! I had to see how many pages it was, it looked so long.” Anne reshelved the novel and gazed up at the multitude of book spines that towered to the ceiling.  “It’s so peaceful to sit here with all of these books.  The colors on their covers are just so beautiful,” Anne concluded, her voice a reverent whisper.

               Jane pulled another book from the shelf, gently brushing her palm across the smooth cover.  It was chick lit, and the bold, hot pink and brightly colored cover reflected every bit of dull, dirty light that trickled through the cracks in a large, plywood covered window.  It was a beacon in this gray, ashy world where the sun hadn’t blazed in the sky for ten years. Anne’s words about the peace and beauty of the library echoed in Jane’s head.  The world would start to be alright again if we could just bring this back she thought as she turned to walk toward the exit.

               “Wait, Mom! Look at this book. It’s my name!” called Anne excitedly behind her.  She held another book out for Jane to see.

               Jane took the book and grinned down at the cover. “It really is your name,” she said. “We named you after Anne of Green Gables. It was one of my favorite books when I was growing up.” Jane stowed the book in her pack to read later and gestured to Anne. “Come with me! I’ll show you who my mom named me after!”

               They walked toward the exit and stopped when Jane saw the letter B marking a shelf. She scanned the authors and titles, then found what she was looking for.  She pulled the book from the shelf and held it to her chest in a fierce hug before turning the book over to Anne.  “Your grandmother loved Charlotte Bronte and named me after Jane Eyre, another beautiful book.  She loved reading as much as I do, as much as I wished you had a chance to when you were younger.”

               “I think I have room in my pack for this one, Mom,” Anne said as she solemnly settled the book into her own bag.

               Suddenly, a gruff voice called from just outside the open doorway, breaking through the stillness. “You best come out of there now, you hear? Come out slowly, with hands where I can see ‘em.”

               Jane gently nudged Anne behind her, and the two made their way out into the eternally cloudy afternoon.  A man stood on the crumbling roadway outside the library.  His lips were tight and grim beneath his salt and pepper walrus mustache, and icy blue eyes peered at them from under bushy eyebrows.  He was tall with a stocky frame, though it was clear he had lost weight over the years of hardship by the way his clothes and skin hung loosely on his bones.  Jane was relieved to see that his clothes were well cared for and his hair carefully cut and brushed.  These signs of civility usually signaled that an encounter would go peacefully.

               Holding her palms upward in a passive gesture as she walked down the steps, Jane gave a friendly grin. “We’re just passing through, sir.  We didn’t mean to disturb anything. This town looked so quiet, we didn’t think anyone was here.  So many small towns like this have been completely abandoned,” she said gently, hoping to sooth the man’s nerves.

               “Just you and the girl in there?” the man asked sharply. 

               Jane nodded.  “Just me and my daughter.  My name is Jane Wilder, and this is Anne. We’ve been traveling for a few years. It’s hard to find a place to call home with the world the way it is.  We can move on right away, if you’d like,” she responded.

               “Hmph,” the man huffed with a shrug.  “Naw, you don’t need to go so soon.  My wife would skin me alive if she heard I turned a woman and young girl away without any welcome.  Please stop by our home for dinner and to stay the night if you like.  We’re close knit in this community, always have been. It’s how we survive. I happen to be the mayor, and I’ve found hospitality wins us allies.  My name is Wilford Tucker by the way, and I’ve been the mayor of this town for around about twenty years.”

               Anne elbowed her mother and smiled up at her.  The promise of a meal in someone’s home was usually a treat. Especially in small, rural communities like this, some people had success with green houses where they grew vegetables and managed to sustain keeping livestock for meat or dairy.  Whatever the fare turned out to be, they were practically guaranteed to eat better than their usual meals of MREs and ancient canned goods.  

               They followed Wilford, and with an ambling gait, he led them past a few blocks of the small town’s shuttered business district.  He took a residential side street that showed more signs of the hard decade that had passed, leaving this town and thousands like it across America as mere skeletons of their former glory.  It was clear that many houses were now vacant, and these had been stripped of any useable parts.  Windows looked like empty eyes minus their glass panes, timbers had been stripped for firewood, and Jane knew their insides had been gutted of copper pipes.  Massive tree stumps lined the cracked sidewalks, accusing remnants of the ancient oak trees that once shaded the street.  Not too far from the library, but at the edge of town where the paved street gave way to a gravel country road, Wilford took a walkway up to a timeworn but still beautiful Victorian farmhouse. 

               Jane and Anne exchanged eager grins as they took in the bay windows, wrap around porch, and gabled roofline with its faded ginger bread.  The clapboard was weathered silver under its chipped coat of white paint, and the yard and flower beds were the same dead and ashy expanse that had replaced every lawn across the country, but something about the property spoke of care.  Emotions surged with Jane’s blood as she looked up at the house.  For the first time since that terrible day when the asteroid devastated the planet, Jane felt hope. 

               Wilford swung the door open and ushered them inside as he called out, “Deloris! We’re going to need to set two extra plates for dinner.  I found a couple of young ladies passing through town, and I told them you’d want to have them stop by for dinner.”

               A woman who must have been in her mid-70’s stepped through the doorway at the hall.  Her skin was dry, wind-worn, and wrinkled, and she had steely hair cropped to her shoulders.  She looked thin and birdlike, but her spry steps carried her lightly to Jane. She took the younger woman’s hand into a strong shake.  “We don’t see travelers in these parts very often anymore.  May I ask your names?”

               “I’m Jane, and this is my daughter Anne.  We’ve been on the go for the past few years, ever since the law was able to get most of the bandits under control.  No place has felt quite like home to us.  I’ve always had itchy feet, and now seems as good a time as any to keep on moving.  Who knows.  Maybe someday we’ll find the place we’re supposed to be, so we just keep moving on until we find it.”

               Deloris gave a sympathetic nod.  “Well, do us a favor. Stay for dinner and for the night before you move along.  Fresh stories and news from travelers is about the most exciting entertainment we can hope for these days.”

               Anne edged closer to her mother, but smiled up shyly to the older woman.  “We’d love to stay for dinner!” she finally exclaimed. “Something smells really good!”

               A few hours later, they sat down to dinner in flickering candlelight.  As good as the food did smell, the thing Jane couldn’t get enough of was the joy in her daughter’s eyes.  Between the library and this meal, it felt like Jane hadn’t seen her daughter enjoy a day better since poor Anne had been a toddler, before the earth went to ruin.  Deloris loaded their plates with cornbread, roasted chicken, and even fresh greens sautéed in bacon grease.  Nothing was from a can, and everything tasted exquisite. 

               “What did you do before?” Wilford asked as he speared a bite of chicken with his fork.

               Jane sighed sadly and said, “I was a high school language arts teacher.  It’s not a very useful trade these days, though I’ve spent time teaching in the government camps, especially in the early days. But the safety was never worth the chaos and the crowding.  As soon as Anne was old enough to travel, I just knew it was time to move on.”

               “A teacher, you say? My Deloris here was our art teacher in town! And she is quite a talented painter,” Wilford said, winking at his wife.  “You know, Deloris, I found these ladies breaking into our library, of all places!”

               “Huh.  The library, you say.  I guess you didn’t find anything of use in there,” Deloris responded after a morose sigh.

               Jane frowned at the way the little woman seemed to shrink a little when her husband mentioned she was a painter, and all of the animation and color completely fled Deloris’ face at mention of the library. Some instinct told Jane to push on this moment.  “On the contrary, Deloris.  I was delighted to find the collection intact and in such excellent shape.  I doubt there are many book collections as complete as this for hundreds of miles around.  You’ve got something special here.”

               “That library can’t feed people,” Deloris pointed out.  “The building couldn’t house many, but that would be a better use than it sitting there boarded up.  The books would be worth more as fuel than they are sitting there, collecting dust.  Wilford should have let the town take them years ago when they wanted to.”

               It was shocking to listen as this woman, who had seemed so cheerful and kind only a few minutes before, spewed such painful feelings to her guests.  Anne looked as though she were on the verge of tears, but she spoke up despite her obvious anguish.  “But Mrs. Tucker, seeing those books today was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my entire life.  Like I’m sure your paintings do, it added color to my world that has always been coated in gray ash.  If I could, I’d live in that library and share it with everyone I could.  And I’d share your paintings too.”

               Deloris gave her silver hair a sad shake.  “Child, my paintings are all locked away now and all of my paints and brushes with them.  There’s no use in art in a world like this.” With that, the old woman rose from the table and slowly left the dining room, defeat echoing in each of her footfalls.

               Wilford put one hand over Jane’s hand and the other engulfed one of Anne’s small, tense fists.  “It’s okay,” he said as he listened to his wife’s steps carry her up the stairs.  “Learning to survive has been hard on all of us, and, I think, it’s especially hard on the artists.  Turning away from something that always meant so much to her was hard for my Deloris.  I’ve tried time and again to get her to pick up her brushes again these past few years, but she’s become dead set against it.  My wife is strong, but she lost something in her spirit during those long years when everything was a scramble and those of us who made it through, survived hand to mouth.”

               “I understand completely, Wilford.  All of us survivors lost more than our possessions, friends, and families when that asteroid struck.  We lost a spark that made us a true civilization, the thing that was always the most beautiful thing about being human.  We lost our joy in seeking knowledge and creating with no other purpose than to lift the soul.  Today, for the first time, I feel like it’s time to bring that back, and I want to be a part of it.  I want to start a Renaissance in your little town.”

               “And how do you propose to do that?” Wilford asked.

               “First of all… do you have some sort of town government or meeting where you vote on things the community needs?”

***

               A week later, Jane sat on stage in the old school auditorium as people from the town and surrounding countryside filed in and took their seats.  She tried to take calming breaths and put on a confident veneer, but her leg shook uncontrollably. Nothing before this moment had felt so important, and at the same time, a goal had never felt so impossible to achieve.  She would be arguing to build this community into something stronger through a path that was not focused merely on survival, and she would be fighting to make this town a home for herself and her daughter.  Jane thought a glimpse of Deloris might calm her nerves, but each time she scanned the incoming crowd, she was nowhere to be found.

               For the past week, Jane and Anne had stayed with the Tuckers. Despite the tension that ended their first dinner together, Deloris treated them like family. Like every other survivor, Wilford and Deloris had lost many of their loved ones as the world collapsed, and their guests seemed to fill some of the holes left behind.  Deloris especially doted on Anne with a grandmotherly affection the girl had never experienced.  The two cooked and cleaned together, and Anne was delighted to learn to garden in the greenhouses and care for the chickens.  They never brought up the library or the old woman’s paintings, and it was like the brief argument at their meeting had never happened.

               For Jane and Wilford, the week was a whirlwind of planning and discussions.  He saw potential in Jane’s vision for the library.  “It will be a hard sell,” he told her as they sat in the kitchen with mugs of hot mint tea.  “The town meets every Wednesday, and we’ll try to get everyone on board.  Two new outsider mouths to feed on top of a plan that will seem pretty frivolous… but I’ll back you up as best I can. Deloris might be resistant right now, but I think it would break her heart to watch you, and especially Anne, move on.”

               Jane snapped back to the present as Wilford pounded a gavel, and a hush fell over the room.  His voice rose above the echoes of shuffling feet and muffled coughs as the crowd turned their attention to the mayor.  “Before we carry out our usual business, I’d like to introduce you to a newcomer, Jane Wilder.  She and her daughter are passing through, and I would like to propose they stay.  Jane has an unusual proposal for her contribution to this community if we allow her to take up residence.  I’ll turn the floor over to her now so she can explain her plan.”

               “Good evening! As Mayor Tucker said, my name is Jane Wilder.  I was a high school English teacher before, and I have spent many years over the past decade teaching in the camps.  This week, as I was passing through your town, I found something that you have kept safe that has the potential to put your town on the map in the years to come.  Your little library and collection of books is like nothing I’ve seen during my years of travel.  You might as well be sitting on the Library of Alexandria for all the books left in the world.  The asteroid took so much from us; our loved ones, our homes, our security, and a whole generation of children who have grown up without the knowledge that was once at our finger tips. When I saw your library, I knew it was time.  We have spent so long just trying to survive, but now, it is time to bring back learning and the arts.  It is time to remember how to thrive.”

               Jane paused and looked out over an astonished crowd.  It was clear this was not at all what they had expected to hear tonight.  The silence seemed to stretch on, but finally, a voice broke through the room.  A middle-aged man with gray streaking through his brown hair snatched a baseball cap from his head, twisting it in his hands as he yelled out, “But how is the library really going to help us?  How is having someone here to pass books out to the kids enough to justify adding two more mouths to feed? I know we have fared better than many places, especially better than the big cities, but we’re still just scraping by, and this is after so much loss.”

               “I completely understand your hesitation,” Jane replied after a pause.  “Mrs. Tucker has been showing me how well you have all done with greenhouses here. Despite the cold and the gray that has taken over our weather, you have eked out enough growth to keep yourselves and your livestock alive.  Your ingenuity has saved your lives, and we could spread what you have learned and save so many more.  Your library is a key to uncovering so much more information.  If you open the library, I won’t just be handing out fiction stories for kids to read before bedtime.  You’ll be accessing books on science, engineering, and mathematics.  You’ll be taking a step toward retrieving the way of life that feels lost forever.

               “People will travel here for your library, and they will bring more books… and trade.  Centers of learning have always brought more to communities than scholars.  Economic growth comes too.  This is a chance for this town to flourish.

               “I know we don’t talk about it much, but each year is warmer than the one before.  The sun is coming.  Summer is coming.  If you start today, that library will leave you poised to take full advantage when the world comes back to its full color.”

               Jane paused as she heard someone in the crowd rise and shuffle toward the door.  It was Deloris.  She had been there to see Jane speak.  Jane watched as the woman walked out the back door, letting it swing shut and slam behind her, not bothering to look back.  Feeling bereft at the older woman’s retreat, Jane tried to think of something else to say, one more word that could turn the community in her favor, but she just stood there, working her jaw open and closed.

               The man who had spoken before crammed his baseball cap back on his head. “I just don’t see this working out,” he grumbled.  With that, he rose and followed Deloris out the door.  The room full of people began to mumble and shift in their seats. It was clear the tide had runed away from the library.  As the townspeople got up and filed out the door, Jane let a single tear track down her cheek.

***

               “Don’t worry, dear,” Deloris said to Jane at the breakfast table a week later.  “I have a feeling things will turn out just fine.”

               It was hard to keep an edge of bitterness out of her voice when Jane replied, “Even about the library?  I’m grateful to you and Wilford for taking us in, but I still feel like I need something more.  It’s been a nice rest for us, but I think it’s about time we moved on.”

               Anne popped in from the hallway, tears already glistening along the lower rims of her eyes.  “Leave?” she burst out.  “I wanted to help in the library, but even if we can’t have that, I really like it here.  Can’t we please stay?”

               Jane took her daughter’s hand and looked her in the eyes.  “If we keep looking, we’re going to find another opportunity. We’re going to change the world for the better, you and I.”

               At that, Anne pulled away and stomped up the stairs to the guest room and slammed the door.  Jane slumped into her seat and dropped her head into her hands in defeat.

               A few hours later, Deloris came to Jane, drawing Anne along behind her.  “Before you two leave, I’d like you to come back to town with me. There’s something we need to do.”

               Jane groaned inwardly.  “Isn’t the town meeting this afternoon?  I’d really rather not.”

               Deloris patted her shoulder.  “I understand,” she said. “But there really is no better time for it.”

               Anne’s beseeching eyes met Jane’s. “Please, Mom?” she whined as she took Jane’s hand.

               Jane gave in with a sigh, nodding silently as she followed the pair outside into yet another chilly, cloudy day.  They walked down the main street, and Jane held her dismay inside as they turned toward the school building and fell in step with a few other townspeople who were headed toward the meeting.  Just as Jane was preparing herself to endure walking into a room of people who had turned her away, Deloris came to a stop.

               They were standing next to the library. “Look!” Anne shouted as she pointed down the side street that ran beside the library.  Jane’s gaze followed, and she couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping open at the sight that met her eyes.  Along the library’s brick façade were lined stacks of old paint cans and an extension ladder laid on its side.  A rough sketch was chalked across the wall; a girl with twin braids sitting under a tree reading a book.  Speechless, Jane turned to Deloris.

               “I’ve spent the week crawling around in abandoned basements and cellars to find discarded paints,” Deloris said. She wouldn’t meet Jane’s eyes, but stared ahead at the library.  “Sometimes a picture can do what words cannot. I figured maybe we could remind this town what we’ve been missing.  We can paint a picture of how the world once was, of how it could be again.  Don’t just stand there, girls, go grab a brush!”

               A grin lit up Anne’s face, and she dashed to the jumble of paint cans and brushes, sifting through the mismatched array of colors.  She held a can at eye level, then turned toward Jane and asked, “The sky was blue once, right?”

               Jane’s eyes misted with tears as she took faltering steps toward her daughter, then curled her fingers around a paint brush. “It was blue, Anne. It still is above the clouds,” she whispered.

               As Jane helped Anne pry the lid form the cerulean paint, she noticed that the trickle of people on their way to the town meeting were pausing behind Deloris. Stoney faced, they watched as Anne climbed the ladder and made the first stroke of bright blue across the dreary brick façade.  A few minutes ticked away as Anne worked the paint into the pock marked tan brick and the dusty gray mortar, giving birth to a brilliant sky over the lifeless wasteland. 

               As they so often do in times of change, the children lead the way.  One by one, they broke free of the gathering crowd, brandishing paint brushes like swords forged to slay the apathy and defeat that had been with them for their entire existence.  They began painting the grass, flowers, and leaves they had never seen, but knew through instinct, the stories they had heard, and through faded photographs that still remembered the world as it had been before.  The parents joined them at last, adding their own memories of an extinct beauty that lingered in their hearts. 

               Jane stood back in awe as the community came together with their paint brushes, and the mural blossomed to life with the colors they had all forgotten. She turned to Deloris who watched from a distance with a satisfied smile on her face. When Jane caught her eye, she offered a wink and nothing more.

***

               On a late June day, Jane and Anne walked through the morning drear to the library’s front doors.  Anne had put on some weight over the past few months. Deloris was constantly pushing food at the girl, and a steady diet with more fresh vegetables had given her hair a bit more shine.  There was a lot to smile about, Jane thought as she unlocked the door and pushed her way in.  After the long years of cold volcanic winter, the temperature was steady in the low fifties, her daughter finally had a home, and today, Jane would open

the library to the public for the first time. 

               Natural light poured into the space through the tall, glass windows. The mildewed carpet had been removed, and the hard wood floors they found beneath it gleamed with fresh polish.  Jane watched Anne march proudly down the stacks, inspecting her handiwork and ensuring not a speck of dust remained to greet their first patrons.

               “We have one more thing to do, Anne,” Jane called after her. Anne skipped back to the circulation desk, her braids bouncing against her shoulders.

               Together, they reached into Jane’s weathered ruck sack, each pulling out a book.  They gently placed their stolen copies of Jane Eyre and Anne of Green Gables on a table in view of the entrance labeled, “Librarian’s Favorite Picks.” They smiled at the display of their two most precious books, settled in their place like orphans that had finally found their home. 

               Anne gave a satisfied nod, then rushed to the door.  “Come on, Mom! Let’s get outside so we can welcome everyone in!”

               While they’d been inside, a wall of people had gathered beneath the mural.  Wilford and Deloris were waiting there, and two children with a ribbon between them moved to hold it across the door as Jane and Anne exited. The crowd quieted and Wilford began to speak. “Two months ago, these young women came to our town and proposed a way for us to prepare for a better future.  It’s hard to believe our resistance at the time, but the way this town has shown up to make this moment possible had made me so proud. Jane, would you do us the honor of cutting the ribbon to open our beautiful, new library?”

               Jane stepped forward to applause and cut the ribbon.  As the satin strands snapped in two, a startled hush fell over the crowd.  The world seemed to explode with light.  Jane gasped as she turned around and faced the mural.  The rainbow swirl of painted on monarch butterflies, summer wild flowers, and emerald tree canopy seemed to blaze more brilliantly than ever before.  The pale girl with ebony braids sat under the tree reading her book as she had for months, but this morning, she seemed to glow.  Shielding her eyes, Jane lifted her gaze skyward.  A ragged hole in the clouds had opened, revealing pale, delicate shreds of blue sky and letting through a precious beam of golden light.  The sun was winning the fight.  Color had returned to the world. 

By Rebecca Clarke