have been forced to walk past that stinking car every school day for two years, wouldn’t need to wonder what people were whispering about when I walked by. But my mom was urged to keep her family intact—told, in fact, that that was what God wanted. A worse plan I’ve never seen executed. That was enough religion for a lifetime for this girl.
I was relieved when the front door opened. I looked up, hoping to see Sarah Ruth early for her shift. I could tell her about Lucy and maybe share the burden, and come up with a battle plan to deal with the petition. Instead, in walked a man in a cape.
In this life, there are some things you can be sure of. One of them is that a man wearing a cape in Minnesota in August wants you to ask him some questions.
“Hello?”
He walked toward me, his hand outstretched. Except for the slick black cape, which was more of a capelet, I amended, he was average looking. Tall, maybe 6'4", with the awkward body of a man whose bones have grown faster than his muscles. His dark hair was mussed and hanging over his tiny, round John Lennon glasses. He grinned at me lopsidedly, making his unremarkable nose tug up over the left nostril. “I’m Weston Lippmann.”
We looked to be about the same age, so I dropped the formalities. “Hi, Weston. I’m Mira. New in town?”
“Pleased to meet you.” I thought I detected a soft, Southern accent, a natural one Kennie would kill for. “I’m new to town, but I’m not going to be in town. Not for very long. I’m a researcher around for a few weeks, and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”
My curiosity was piqued. “What are you researching?”
“Wood ticks. I’m the curator of the United States National Tick Collection, which is currently housed at Georgia Southern University.”
Like that, my curiosity deflated. “The collection travels?”
“Yes! Just like wood ticks.” He smiled apologetically.
“Mind if I ask what’s up with the cape?”
His cheeks reddened. “A personal eccentricity. I’m not fond of birds. They have a bothersome habit of, um, dropping on me. If I’m going to spend a lot of time outdoors, it makes more sense to wear this so I can wipe off any leavings.”
“No way! Birds don’t like me either!” It’s embarrassingly relieving when you find you share a neurosis with another person.
“Really?” He wasn’t sure if I was teasing him or not.
“Totally, yeah! I think it’s because I accidentally killed one when I was a little girl. I found a nest, transplanted it to my sock drawer, and forgot about it. Ever since then, birds lunge at and generally harass me. People think I’m weird.”
His eyes glowed as we bonded over our shared peculiarities, two lone geeks at the prom comparing pocket protectors. “Me too.”
There was an awkward silence, which I rushed in to fill. “So, you ran outta ticks in Georgia to study?”
He made a funny, throat-clearing noise. “Right now we’ve got more than 123,000 ticks in our museum, but I had some vacation coming up, so I figured I’d head north. I’m looking for information on a new breed of deer tick reported in West-central Minnesota.”
“That’s a vacation?”
“Well, I don’t normally do field work. Not anymore. But I love it, and I have some family not far from here, so I thought I’d combine work and pleasure.”
“Hmm. Well, good luck with that. What do you want to find out here? In the library, I mean.”
“Do you have any locally published history? Farmer’s journals, business ledgers, and the like?”
“Most of that you can find at the Otter Tail County Historical Society in Fergus Falls, about twenty miles up 210. I do have a copy of After the Battle , though. It’s a pretty interesting history of Battle Lake, put together by the Centennial Committee when the town turned 100.”
“Perfect!”
I directed him to the spiral-bound book in the reference section in the rear of the library and returned to find Sarah
I was relieved when the front door opened. I looked up, hoping to see Sarah Ruth early for her shift. I could tell her about Lucy and maybe share the burden, and come up with a battle plan to deal with the petition. Instead, in walked a man in a cape.
In this life, there are some things you can be sure of. One of them is that a man wearing a cape in Minnesota in August wants you to ask him some questions.
“Hello?”
He walked toward me, his hand outstretched. Except for the slick black cape, which was more of a capelet, I amended, he was average looking. Tall, maybe 6'4", with the awkward body of a man whose bones have grown faster than his muscles. His dark hair was mussed and hanging over his tiny, round John Lennon glasses. He grinned at me lopsidedly, making his unremarkable nose tug up over the left nostril. “I’m Weston Lippmann.”
We looked to be about the same age, so I dropped the formalities. “Hi, Weston. I’m Mira. New in town?”
“Pleased to meet you.” I thought I detected a soft, Southern accent, a natural one Kennie would kill for. “I’m new to town, but I’m not going to be in town. Not for very long. I’m a researcher around for a few weeks, and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”
My curiosity was piqued. “What are you researching?”
“Wood ticks. I’m the curator of the United States National Tick Collection, which is currently housed at Georgia Southern University.”
Like that, my curiosity deflated. “The collection travels?”
“Yes! Just like wood ticks.” He smiled apologetically.
“Mind if I ask what’s up with the cape?”
His cheeks reddened. “A personal eccentricity. I’m not fond of birds. They have a bothersome habit of, um, dropping on me. If I’m going to spend a lot of time outdoors, it makes more sense to wear this so I can wipe off any leavings.”
“No way! Birds don’t like me either!” It’s embarrassingly relieving when you find you share a neurosis with another person.
“Really?” He wasn’t sure if I was teasing him or not.
“Totally, yeah! I think it’s because I accidentally killed one when I was a little girl. I found a nest, transplanted it to my sock drawer, and forgot about it. Ever since then, birds lunge at and generally harass me. People think I’m weird.”
His eyes glowed as we bonded over our shared peculiarities, two lone geeks at the prom comparing pocket protectors. “Me too.”
There was an awkward silence, which I rushed in to fill. “So, you ran outta ticks in Georgia to study?”
He made a funny, throat-clearing noise. “Right now we’ve got more than 123,000 ticks in our museum, but I had some vacation coming up, so I figured I’d head north. I’m looking for information on a new breed of deer tick reported in West-central Minnesota.”
“That’s a vacation?”
“Well, I don’t normally do field work. Not anymore. But I love it, and I have some family not far from here, so I thought I’d combine work and pleasure.”
“Hmm. Well, good luck with that. What do you want to find out here? In the library, I mean.”
“Do you have any locally published history? Farmer’s journals, business ledgers, and the like?”
“Most of that you can find at the Otter Tail County Historical Society in Fergus Falls, about twenty miles up 210. I do have a copy of After the Battle , though. It’s a pretty interesting history of Battle Lake, put together by the Centennial Committee when the town turned 100.”
“Perfect!”
I directed him to the spiral-bound book in the reference section in the rear of the library and returned to find Sarah
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