I spent many of my teenage years inside that store, sitting in the back corner and falling in love with men and women from faraway places. It was because of that shop that I knew I wanted to become an English teacher. I wanted to teach children the importance of words.
Words had the power to transport a small-town girl to worlds she’d never imagined. When I turned sixteen, it was that same bookshop where I received my first job, too. Sometimes, that place felt more like home than my actual home.
As I walked into the shop, I could smell them all—the adventures hidden behind the covers. The heartbreaking stories. The heart healing ones. The stories of love lost and found. The stories of self-discovery. The stories that made you feel less alone in a lonely world.
There was no better feeling than falling in love with people you’d never truly meet, yet still, they felt like family.
The bookshop was set up in such a unique way. When you entered, you walked into the front lobby where you could speak. A coffee area was set up with countertops and bar stools. On the countertops were crossword puzzles that changed each day, and as you drank your beverage, you’d fill in the puzzles and chat with the barista about the latest gossip in Chester.
To the left, you’d find a set of doors carved out of wood—made by Frank—that had handwritten famous first lines from classic novels. Over the doors, a sign read, Behind these doors, the story begins. Once you stepped foot inside that space, dozens and dozens of novels surrounded you. The bookcases touched the high ceilings, and ladders scattered throughout the area allowed you to climb high to find that one certain read you hadn’t even known you’d been searching for.
Tables were set up throughout the space where people could sit and read. The only rule was complete silence, like a still bear sleeping through the depths of winter. The only sound ever heard was people tiptoeing through the space as they searched for their next book.
I loved the solitude that The Silent Bookshop offered. It was a safe place where the only drama allowed was found within the stories.
“Well grand day, if it isn’t Gracelyn Mae returning home,” Josie remarked, using sign language to speak as I walked into the shop. She always signed her words as she spoke. It seemed like a first language to her, and every sign I knew was because she taught it to me. Her blond hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and she still had that deep dimple in her right cheek that always appeared whenever she smiled—and Josie Parker was always smiling.
We’d graduated high school together, and she was hands down the class clown. Yet outside of that, she was also a good person. Her comedy never came at the cost of others. She’d make fun of herself before another person, and I always adored her positive outlook on the world. Plus, in town, she was one of the only souls I trusted to keep my secrets. She was the girl who allowed me to step out of my perfect persona to be free for a bit of time. When we were kids, Josie would bring me Diet Coke with a few splashes of whiskey, and we’d sit in the park people watching while tipsy.
Mama would’ve killed me if she knew I was drinking whiskey in high school, but I never had to worry about that with Josie by my side.
With her, my secrets were always safe.
Maybe that was why I wandered her way. Maybe I was hoping she’d be able to shine some light on some of my dark days.
“It’s been too long,” she said before pulling me into a hug.
“I know. I’ve missed this place. Everything about it, I’ve missed.”
“Well, it misses you too, but we understand you getting out of this small town. Following Finn for his dream was a noble thing, but I’m glad to hear he’s working at the hospital now, which means you’re here, too, yeah?”
“Yeah, but only for the summer, though. I still have my teaching job back in Atlanta.”
“Oh? So you are doing the long-distance thing?”
“Well…”
My bottom lip quivered, and she noted it. “You know what? No need to answer my questions. I’ll shut up real quick.” Something about Josie just warmed up hearts. She was such a positive energy and such a genuine heart. “Now come on. Sit down. You still drinking coffee over tea?” she asked me.
“Yes, sure am.”
She shook her head in disappointment. “One day, I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, and you’ll be forever changed. But for now, I’ll make you a nice cup of joe.”
I snickered. “You studied abroad for a few months in England and came back a changed woman.”
“I also married a British boy from those studies and dragged him back to Chester. So, the least I can do is drink tea.” She grabbed the largest mug in the shop and poured the coffee to the brim, then she sat it in front of me. “So how does it feel to be back in Chester?”
My eyes watered over, and my stomach knotted, but I did my best not to cry.
She frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Truth or lie?”
“Always truth.” She walked back around the counter and sat on the barstool beside me with her hands wrapped around her mug of tea. “So what’s the story?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, I never liked a book that started in the middle,” she joked. “So let’s start from the beginning.”
And so, I did.
I told her everything that unfolded with Finn, and when the tears fell from my eyes, she was quick to wipe them away. She didn’t offer any advice, and she didn’t push me with options of what I should and shouldn’t do. No, she simply listened.
Sometimes, all a person needed was another to listen to their uneven heartbeats.
When I finished talking, she gave my knee a squeeze. “So you’re not okay.”
“I’ll get there.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “You will. But until then, if you need a safe place to escape, you can always come here. Also, we always have a spot for you on the staff.”
“You don’t have to do that for me.”
“Yeah, but I want to, and you know my mom wouldn’t have it any other way. Even though I love this town, I know how overwhelming it can get sometimes. Plus, I get the feeling that your heart needs a break. So, if you want that break, you can take it here.”
“I might take you up on that offer.”
“It’s yours for the taking.” She paused and scrunched up her nose. “I always hated Autumn,” she told me.
“I wish I could say the same.”
Right as I was about to change the subject, the front door of the shop opened and in walked Jackson. He didn’t look the least bit intrigued that Josie and I were in the shop. In fact, he moved as if he couldn’t even see us. The way he traveled made it seem as if he was bored with everything in the whole wide world. He was simply moving to get from point A to point B with no real drive to even explore the idea of a point C.
A chill ran over my body as he walked straight through the set of wooden doors without looking toward either of us.
“Well, he sure is an intriguing personality,” I muttered.
Josie laughed. “That’s just the normal Jackson Emery for ya. He doesn’t really interact with people much when he comes in here—and he’s here every day.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. One of our best customers, too. He sits in the back room for two to three hours reading, and he always leaves with new book purchases. I swear, most of the shop’s income probably comes from that man.”
“What kind of books does he read?” I questioned, curiosity striking me. You could tell a lot about a man based on the type of books on his nightstand.
“Only one genre—young adult.”
“Young adult? Really?”
“Truly. Weird, huh? He doesn’t very much seem like the young adult type, now does he?”