Krissa threw the tome down on the table with a heavy thump. Immediately she regretted her anger, coughing and sneezing fiercely in a cloud of sweet-smelling dust.
At least now she could be truthful when claiming that her eyes were watering, that of course she was not crying. What did she have to cry about? Nothing, don't be silly, thanks for asking.
Krissa sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. She felt like an idiot. It had been a bad thing to call Luke an uncivilized lout, but at least that was true. Calling him mean was just a dirty lie. He was only doing his duty to keep her in line, that was all. She deserved what she got when she said things like that. And she shouldn't have mentioned Leo. Luke definitely didn't like Leo one bit, and Krissa knew that her fiancee hated being compared to the outsider.
Anyway, she thought with another snotty sniff, it was time to get to work. Part of the money she made as a secretary was earned here, in the town library, researching old stories about the town, and cataloguing old books. Most of these books had never been read in her lifetime. But then, a library in a town full of illiterate bumpkins didn't get a lot of use.
She wrapped a handkerchief around her nose and mouth and started flipping through the pages. This one had pictures, and appeared to be some old historian's vague accounts of news in the town, long ago. This was exactly the sort of thing she was looking for. She dragged a stool over to the table with one hand, still looking over the pages she turned simultaneously with the other. The pain of sitting down made her wince and brought another tear or two to her eyes, but she blinked them away and adjusted herself until the bruise on her thigh had no weight resting upon it. Even this failed to distract her completely from the book.
The historian, someone named Leah, seemed to speak to Krissa in a voice she could hear. Leah was skimpy on many of the details, but whoever he was, he was a natural writer. He wrote about events stretching back over a generation ago with words and emotions right out of Krissa's everyday life. Some of the book even made reference to the old Troubled times so long ago. All of it was interesting, even when Leah was just rambling on about decisions of meetings or sketching poetry in the margins. The poetry was actually quite good, and who had ever heard of a poet historian?
This guy looks like Luke, and that girl looks like old Mrs. Greer, and that guy looks like Leo... she thought as she idly flipped pages, skimming for pictures of people long dead, the founders of the village itself.
Krissa suddenly stopped herself, squinting with one eye, trying remember the last picture. She flipped back a few pages.
That guy looks an awful lot like Leo, actually. She studied the picture intently.
That guy looks exactly like Leo. He's even standing the same way, with his left hand back behind his hip...and I'd swear I've seen him wear that coat.
Now completely confused, Krissa glanced down at the caption of the picture.
Mr. Tolstoy...it had to be a relative or something...
Krissa began leafing through the surrounding pages, looking for some reference to either the photo or its subjects.