Home In Indiana

By Meredith Rae Morgan

Amanda Krueger is a small town librarian, the fourth generation of her clan to be born in the family farmhouse on the Ohio River. She lives a simple almost reclusive life, and she insists that she likes it that way.

When the farm becomes the potential location for development of a riverboat casino, Amanda's quiet life and her entire future are threatened. The local residents choose up sides for the political battle that ensues. Amanda initially refuses to participate in the politicking, but she is inevitably drawn into the fray. Her peaceful life becomes a whirlwind of meetings and strategy session -- and unexpected romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Rae Morgan
• Release date: Dec 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301621668

Meredith Rae Morgan

Meredith Morgan is a pseudonym, my professional and online identity. I write novels for and about strong women and self-publish them as eBooks on Smashwords.I was raised in the Midwest but have roots in the Deep South. I have lived in Florida for the past fifteen years. I tend to alternate the settings for my stories between all three places. From that experience, I've discovered that I love Southern women, Midwestern men and I'm fascinated (in a weird and scary kind of way) by the people I've encountered in Florida, most of whom are from other places.Besides writing, my passions are walking the beach, reading and cooking. For a more detailed bio, see my website.A Note from MeredithTo those of you who have taken the time to send emails and/or write reviews: Thank you so very much! I truly appreciate your feedback.Meredith

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HOME IN INDIANA

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. The characters, events and circumstances depicted here are imaginary.

Chapter 1

The Ohio River ran high, muddy and full of debris. Amanda Krueger wrapped her scarf tighter around her face and told herself she was an idiot for being outside in the cold when she could be inside the warm kitchen drinking coffee with her dad. The problem was she was sick of listening to his muttering over the newspaper every morning of his life. The river had always nurtured her. The roiling current filled her with a sense of power and the lapping of the water on the banks calmed her spirit. Regardless of the weather, she craved the balm of the river, which was her inspiration, her refuge and her soul’s true home.

She was cold and she knew that if she dallied any longer she risked being late for work, so took off across the frozen corn rows with their tangled remnants of stalks as fast as she could go in galoshes and with the wind whipping her coat. She rushed into the house, leaving her boots and parka in the mud room. She didn't slow down as she called good morning to her father, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and scowling at the newspaper. Ten minutes later, she was dressed and ready for work. She poured a cup of coffee in her go-cup, kissed her dad on the top of his head and said, I made a pot of bean soup for supper. It's in the crock pot container in the fridge. Would you mind turning on the pot when you come home for lunch?

Not a problem. You make any cornbread to go with it?

No. I'll pick up some at the bakery.

You don't need to do that. I brought home some leftover cornbread from the church supper yesterday. It's in foil in the fridge. That ought to be enough for us.

That sounds good. See you tonight, Dad.

She arrived promptly at nine o’clock, but there were already two people waiting on the stoop of the library. Mr. Arthur was waiting patiently, as always, but the woman looked irritated. Amanda said, The library doesn't open until nine. It's too cold to be standing out here like this. Mr. Arthur, who beat her to the library every day, ignored her as usual. The woman stamped her feet to emphasize that she was cold. As soon as Amanda opened the door, Mr. Arthur headed straight for the magazine and newspaper area. Amanda called after him, I'll bring you the weekend papers and today's paper in a minute.

He took off his coat and flipped through a magazine while waiting for her to bring him the current papers. In the three years since his wife died, he spent the better part of every day in the library. He talked to his friends as they stopped by to peruse the papers. In between visitors, after finishing the daily newspaper, he mostly leafed through magazines. On the rare occasions when the library was busy, Mr. Arthur sometimes helped out at the counter, checking out books while Amanda answered questions and helped school children with research projects. Amanda wasn't supposed to know it, but he was one of the most significant donors to the Friends of the Library. He didn't give a lot of money, but he gave more than anybody else, and had contributed at least something to the library every year for more than fifty years. He said very little, but Amanda liked having him around.

The other person waiting for her was Mrs. Benedict, the Baptist preacher's wife. Amanda knew who she was but had never officially met her. She said, Ma'am, I'll be right with you. Let me get the papers out and I'll be right back.

She could tell by the woman's posture that she was not happy about being kept waiting. Amanda thought that was just too bad. Mr. Arthur was both a supporter and a regular patron of the library. Mrs. Benedict had never set foot in the library before. Amanda didn't care if she was a preacher's wife who was used to having people kiss her ass. The library was Amanda's turf and she was anything but an ass kisser.

Amanda unwrapped the papers, and took them to the reading room where she started to remove last week's papers from the wooden racks. Mr. Arthur stood up and took the rack out of her hand, saying softly, I'll do that. Go deal with Mrs. B. She don't like to be kept waiting.

So it would appear. Are you sure you don't mind?

Actually, I'm going to read the paper before I put it on the rack. I despise those infernal things.

Amanda smiled. Then you just got yourself a regular job, Mr. Arthur. I'll let you read the papers first and then you can put them on the racks. Half the time I rip the derned thing trying to get it on the holder.

She walked back to the checkout desk where Mrs. Benedict was drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the counter. Amanda smiled and pretended not to notice the woman's impatience. How may I help you, Mrs. Benedict?

The woman glanced at her watch, I stopped by to ask if I could put up a poster on the bulletin board. Our church is hosting a public meeting on Wednesday to discuss what we should do about the possibility of somebody building a casino in Washburn.

Amanda put her hand up to her mouth and widened her eyes. Who wants to build a casino here?

Nobody yet, but ever since the legislature passed the bill allowing it, we understand there are developers nosing around all along the river looking for good spots. Some people we talked to said that Washburn may be a good candidate because we're close enough to Evansville and Louisville to draw good crowds, but we're rural enough to have plenty of land to build on.

Amanda said, That would be just awful!

I agree. That's why we want to have this meeting now. So people in the town can be ready for whatever may happen. You know if those developers show up, they'll be waving lots of money around. It's hard for people to turn away money, especially in hard times.

Amanda asked, Have you seen any of the towns in eastern Indiana where they have built casinos?

No. I haven't been over that way lately.

I had to go to Cincinnati for a seminar about six months ago. I drove over on U. S. 50. It's a disgrace what has happened to some of our beautiful little river towns. She stopped herself before she launched a rant, mainly because she was afraid she’d swear and she was pretty sure that wouldn’t go over big with Mrs. Benedict. Yes, ma'am, you can put up your sign. When's the meeting? I'd like to attend if it's open to the public, and if you promise there won't be any preaching.

The woman leaned her head back and looked at Amanda down her long nose, It is, in fact, open to the public. I don't promise that there won't be people who get up on their soap box, but it's a political meeting not a religious service. You got something against preaching?

Amanda smiled, I have nothing against preaching, provided I don't have to listen to it.

You don't go to church?

No, ma'am, but I will make an exception for this meeting because I don't want to see our town overrun by development, especially not a gambling casino.

We'll look forward to seeing you. I'll be praying for your soul.

Thank you, ma'am. I’d appreciate it. I may not care for preaching, but I’ll take all the prayers I can get.

The woman went out to the foyer to hang her poster.

Mr. Arthur walked up to the desk and handed Amanda three papers from the previous week. He said, You know you laid down a challenge to her. She's gonna have to see you saved now.

Me and my big mouth. She put the newspapers in the archive box and turned back to him, Do you think they'll try to build a casino here?

He pursed his lips and scratched his almost bald head. It seems like it would be a pretty good place for them to look at anyway. Close enough to some populated areas to draw customers, but plenty of farmland to plow under and build parking lots on.

They heard Mrs. Benedict leave and walked out to the foyer to look at the poster. Mr. Arthur pulled his glasses from their perch on top of his head and put them on, squinting to read the sign. I s'pect I'll attend that meeting, too. He laughed, I think you and me are the most infamous heathens in town. The building might go up in flames if we both walk into a church at the same time.

She laughed, I didn't know you were a heathen. Or me, either, for that matter.

Around here, if you don't go to some kind of church at least on Christmas and Easter, you're a heathen. And, honey, you just issued a challenge to the head of the Baptist Sunday School. I do not envy you.

How do you keep the missionaries at bay?

Time. They gave up on me a long time ago. You're still fresh meat. They'll be after you for years.

Lovely.

He went back to the reading room, and she attended to the mail that had come in on Saturday.

It was a Monday during the school term, which meant there were few patrons in the morning. The regular newspaper readers stopped by. Most of them visited with Mr. Arthur for a while. Amanda re-shelved the books from over the weekend, straightened the display tables, and cleaned up the conference room, which had been left a mess by a Republican party committee that had met over the weekend.

She had tidied the room completely by early afternoon, at which point she spent some time doing research on the Internet regarding the companies that were building riverboat casinos. For the most part the research appeared to be relatively inconclusive about the impact of gambling on communities. The things that bothered her the most about the potential casinos – such as the loss of wildlife habitat, loss of farm land, additional traffic and subtle changes in the fabric of the community – typically were not addressed. Amanda didn't care what the research said about the impact of casinos on the wider community. She was pretty sure that the best place in the area to build a riverboat casino, with its accompanying parking lot, would be on or near the Krueger farm. She shut down the computer with an unnecessarily hard plunk and whispered through gritted teeth, Over my dead body.

At four forty-five, the volunteer who was working the evening shift arrived. Amanda made one last pass through the library, picking up trash and lost items, refiling books and chatting with the patrons, most of whom were high school students doing homework and flirting with one another. She returned to her office to retrieve her purse and lunch bag. Uncharacteristically for her, she bolted a few minutes before five.

When she got home, her dad was drinking coffee at the table, in almost exactly the same position she had left him in that morning. Instead of reading the newspaper, he was reading American Farmer.

He looked up, Hey, there. I put the soup in the pot on low. It's not hot yet. How was your day?

Interesting. How was yours? Did you even move?

My day was the same as always this time of year. Too cold to work in the fields, so I spent most of the day reading the news and worrying myself into a frazzle. Then I went over to the gas station and hung out with the guys. I worked on a couple of cars while I was there.

She patted his shoulder. I think the winters wear on both of us for different reasons.

He lay down his magazine and said, You know sometimes I think the smartest thing I could do would be to sell the farm and move to Arizona or someplace.

I wish you hadn't said that.

Why

"Because I found out today that there may be some developers nosing around here to see about building a casino on the river. From my reading, I think the best spot in the whole town for a casino is on our property. You may get an offer for the farm sooner than you expected.

I'll tell you now, if you even consider selling out I'll fight you on it. In fact, I'm going to a meeting next Wednesday at the Baptist church to discuss what the community can do to oppose this kind of development.

He reared back his head and laughed like he hadn't done in a long time. He said, I think I'll go with you, if for no other reason than to see if you get struck by lightning walking into a church. She made a face and swatted at him with a dish towel. He added, I'll also attend because there's no way in hell I'll sit still for this a casino to be built in this town. I don't care how much money they offer me for my land, I won't sell to developers. I'd rather sit here and freeze my ass off during the winters and worry about spring flooding than sell to an outfit that would turn my land into a parking lot.

He looked at his daughter and asked, Have you been to any of the casinos in eastern Indiana?

"I drove by them a few months ago when I went to Cincinnati for that library conference. I ate breakfast in Lawrenceburg on my way home. By the time I got past Aurora, I was ready to do violence of some kind.

Do you mean it about going with me to the meeting?

Damn right, I do. My grandparents bought this farm a few years after they emigrated from Germany. My father was born in the room upstairs, so was I, and so were you. I may mutter and grumble about the cold and the flooding, but this is not only our home, it's our heritage. Our family has been part of this town for four generations. I figure we should have a say in its future.

He closed his magazine and stood up, adding, A future that won't hold gambling if I've got anything to say about it.

Amanda smiled at him and said, I'm glad you feel that way. I turned up the crock pot, but it's still going to be a while until it's hot.

That's okay. I think I'll take a little nap before dinner. You think it'll be ready around seven?

Absolutely.

As he went down the hall towards his room, Amanda noticed that he walked more slowly than ever before and he seemed to be favoring his left knee. It was the first time it dawned on her that her father was getting old. That was one more thing to put on her worry pile.

She threw a load of laundry into the washer and looked around for something to clean. The house, however, was immaculate, and she had a hour and a half with nothing to do. She smiled at the thought, stretched, and went into the parlor. She picked up her e-reader from the coffee table and stretched out on the sofa, with her feet sticking out over one arm and her head resting on the other. When she heard her father moving around in his room an hour later, she went into the kitchen to stir the soup and put the cornbread in the toaster oven to warm.

When he walked into the kitchen she asked, You want me to put on a pot of coffee?

Nah. I can't drink coffee in the evenings any more. Gives me heartburn.

What do you want to drink?

A glass of buttermilk.

She made a nasty face. Who drinks that stuff?

I do.

On Tuesday, the second grade classes from the elementary school visited the library. That had been an annual field trip for the second grade for decades. It provided an introduction to the library for kids whose families didn't read and gave the kids an opportunity to sign up for their own library cards. Amanda gave a little talk explaining in general about the Dewey decimal system and showing the kids a diagram of how the library was organized. As had been the case for several recent years, the kids were most interested in the computers and videos. Hardly any of them browsed the book shelves.

Amanda and three of the teachers stood near the front desk watching the kids. The older teacher whispered to Amanda, Not one of them has picked up a book.

Mrs. Thomas had been Amanda's second grade teacher. She was one of the last of her kind: an old fashioned, no-nonsense schoolteacher who revered books above all things, with good penmanship a very close second.

Amanda smiled, I tell myself they read online, but when I walk by the computers, mostly they're playing games or surfing aimlessly.

The other two teachers were talking to one another. Mrs. Thomas looked at them with a sour expression. Amanda gave her a quizzical look and she leaned closer to Amanda. They're no better than the kids. All they care about is make-up, hair-dos and dating. I don't think either of them has picked up a book to read since they graduated from college.

Amanda shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "I changed my major from elementary education to library science the semester my literature class syllabus listed Charlotte's Web and Black Beauty on the reading list. I figured that teachers should read adult literature even if they'd ultimately be using YA books in the classroom. When I spoke to my adviser about the change in my major, I told her that I'd already read all the books on the syllabus and was more interested in reading adult classics. I thought she was going to faint."

Mrs. Thomas said, I think you'd have made a very good teacher.

Amanda shook her head, I don't think so. For one thing, I don't have the patience to try to teach something to someone who doesn't want to learn it. Kids come in here all the time with research projects. I sometimes spend hours helping with research for students who are curious and interested in learning the process of research or just interested in the topic of their paper. More often kids come in with a chip on their shoulder and want me to do their research for them. My standard response to that is that they have to figure it out for themselves.

Mrs. Thomas laughed. The teachers can tell which students you've helped with their research. They generally get A's, by the way. Thanks to you.

I'm an old-fashioned librarian and book-lover. I'll spend hours researching something that strikes my fancy, and I'll go to extreme lengths to help patrons with thorny research issues, but only if they don't take advantage of me.

Somebody told me that you do research for a reporter from the Louisville paper.

I do occasionally. She's a friend from college. She's a really good writer and interviewer, but she sucks at research. She pays me to help with preliminary background research at the beginning of a project and then fact-checking at the end. I love to do research. I have the time and I work in a library, so I have the resources at hand. It's a little extra income. It's win-win.

Mrs. Thomas looked at Amanda and asked, Why do you still live here? You are smart and pretty. I'd have thought you'd move to a city somewhere like most of the other young people do after they graduate.

Amanda looked at the kids, rather hoping she'd find someone