Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (9)

Tim looked down when he felt a small hand tug his and smiled at the little girl. Of all the children who came to the library, she was one of his favorites. Her name was Cherie Lewis and she was an avid reader, well above her grade level.

"Mr Tim," Cherie said, when she had his attention, "do you have 'The Secret Garden'?"

"Of course." He led her to the right shelf and took the book out, handing it to her. "How did you hear about this one?"

"Umm, Mrs Norton said our garden reminded her of the story sort of, because it's all wild and stuff."

Tim knew Mrs Norton was Cherie's nanny, since her mother was no longer around. Why? He had no idea. He just knew from what Cherie had told him that she lived with her father. Mrs Norton was there to watch her after school and when Mr Lewis had to go out of town as part of his job.

He glanced over at Mrs Norton now. She was sitting in one of the few comfortable chairs, her nose buried in whatever book she was reading. As if she felt his gaze, she looked up and smiled, the light coming in the window making her white hair look almost like a halo around her kindly face. 

Turning his attention back to Cherie, Tim asked, "Have you finished 'Where the Sidewalk Ends'?"

"Yeah. It was silly funny but good. I brought it back today." Hugging 'The Secret Garden' to her chest, she told him, "Now I'm going to find more books, so I have a lot to read this weekend."

He smiled as he watched her dash off. I remember being that excited about reading when I was her age, but for me it was a defense mechanism. For a second he frowned before pushing that to the back of his mind. He had other more pleasant things to think about, like him and Dom going museum hopping on Sunday. All two of them. He chuckled. But hey, it is something to do and with a very nice new friend. 

* * * *

"I never did get modern art," Dom said, while tilting his head, trying to make heads and tails of the painting.

Tim chuckled. "I'm not sure it's supposed to make sense. It's a"—he peered at the sign below the painting—"a kinetic abstraction."

"Whatever." Dom shrugged. "Let's go look at the American artists' gallery."

They did, which made Dom a happy man. "This"—he swept his arm around—"this is art."

"If you say so," Tim muttered.

Dom chuckled. "I just know..."

"What you like, and it doesn't count if it was done after nineteen-thirty."

Dom grinned, flipping him off, and they moved on to some of the other galleries. By the time one o'clock rolled around, they decided it was time to leave and hit up the natural history museum, after stopping for something to eat. Instead of waiting in line to be seated at one of the local restaurants, since it was both a Sunday and lunchtime, they decided on carryout from a small deli. Juggling sandwiches and coffee in gloved hands while they walked proved challenging, but they were up to the task and managed to make it to the museum without a major disaster.

"Warmth, heat," Dom muttered, once they were inside.

"I bet you're a Southerner—or a Californian," Tim said with a grin.

"Yep." Dom replied succinctly, as he took off his coat. "Where to first?" he added, hoping to deflect any more personal questions from Tim.

It must have worked because Tim replied, "Straight ahead to the dinosaurs. From there, we wander."

They were halfway through the cavernous room, staring in awe at the huge Apatosaurus, when Dom heard a child's voice call out, "Mr Tim! Mr Tim!" A girl he figured was maybe seven or eight darted into view, her curly blonde hair flying loosely around an elfin face.

"A friend of yours?" Dom asked in amusement.

"You bet." Tim held out one hand to bring her to a halt. "Dom, this is Cherie Lewis, Cherie, meet my friend, Dom."

"I thought Shari Lewis was a bit older," Dom said, grinning. He looked down at Cherie, asking, "Where's Lamb Chop?"

Cherie looked up at him, then at Tim, saying, "He's silly."

"Yeah, he is," Tim agreed.

At that moment a casually dressed, average-looking blond man came over to where they were standing. "Cherie," he admonished, "how many times have I told you not to bother strangers?"

"But Daddy, Mr Tim isn't a stranger."

"Ah, so this is the infamous librarian. Well, one of you is," he added.

"That would be me." Tim held out his hand shyly. "Tim Chandler."

"Richard Lewis," he replied, shaking Tim's hand briefly. "Cherie, we should get going."

"But, Daddy… Can't we stay a little more? I haven't seen everything yet."

Richard sighed. "All right. Half an hour and then we go home."

"Yay!" Cherie grabbed Tim's hand, pulling him toward another dinosaur exhibit. "Do you have grownup books about these?"

 "We sure do. Next time you're at the library, I'll show you where to find them."