Page 103 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

That was even worse. I liked special projects. Ilovedthem. And if anyone in this room had cared about me even a little bit, they’d have known that.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me after everything we’ve been through. You know how much I enjoyour book club. I love how little we get done every single meeting, and how mad Maisey gets if there’s a movie version and we don’t tell her. I love that we can get Mateo to read things against his will, even though he secretly enjoys every minute. I love that Greg spends most of the time fixing things around the house instead of participating in the discussion.”

That word—love—came tripping off my tongue with an ease I’d never known before. For twenty years, I’d fought against every part of my nature to suppress it. Now that it was back, it was making up for lost time.

And so, it seemed, was I.

“Most of all, I love that you opened up enough to let your personal nemesis into the club—not because you wanted to, but because books are the most important thing to you. Nothing can stand in the way of that. You wouldn’t deny a man a book any more than you’d deny him water. It’s the one soft spot you’ve never been able to hide, the one place where all your feelings are allowed to thrive.” I was getting worked up now, my voice rising to a pitch I didn’t recognize, but I couldn’t stop. The floodgates had opened, and I was no longer in command of the tide. “I’ve seen the books around your house, Arthur. All of them. I know what they mean. I know what they’re trying to say.”

“And what’s that?” he asked with infuriating coolness. This man practicallybreathedfire; for him to display reserve the one time I had something real to say to him was almost too much. “What do the books say?”

“What’s in your heart. The things that your wife made you feel—the things shestillmakes you feel, even after all these years. You pretend to be angry and bored with life, but you’re as full of wonder and joy as the rest of us. And don’t you dare try to deny it, because I’ll drag every book from your house into this hospital room to prove it. You love this world, and you love the people in it. I know you do.”

Instead of looking guilty, Arthur smiled up at me. It was a soft, gentlesmile that I’d never seen him wear before. Considering how may monitors he was hooked up to right now, I couldn’t imagine the cause.

Until he spoke.

“Thereshe is,” he murmured. “I knew you had a big and bright life burning somewhere inside you.”

Burning or not, all the fight fled out of me. I felt hollowed out as I finally allowed Greg to lead me to a chair. He lowered me onto it with so much tenderness—and with a smile so much like the one Arthur was currently wearing—that the last of my defenses were stripped away.

“I don’t understand,” I said with a bewildered look around me. “If this isn’t a book club mutiny, what is it?”

“A book club intervention,” Mateo said with a laugh. “But yours sounds much cooler.”

Greg placed himself at my back, his presence so warm I could feel it pulsing through the frame of the chair. “I think you should give it to her, Grandpa.”

“But we aren’t done yet,” Maisey protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur said as he lifted the book on his lap and extended it toward me. “This will have to be enough. And if it isn’t…well. After an outburst like that, I think she’s going to be okay no matter what.”

The hand Arthur held out was hooked up to an IV, his veins a protuberant network on his skin. Even with all those needles and tape, his hand didn’t waver.

“Go on,” he urged. “This is from us—fromallof us.”

My own hand wavered plenty as I took the book and flipped the cover. It was a gorgeous copy ofAnne of Green Gables, hardbound and embossed, the first page holding nothing but my name in one corner like a new family Bible waiting for the generational splendor to come.

“This is really nice, but—” I cut myself off as soon as I flipped the pages. The first two looked ordinary enough, but a stark yellow highlight stood out on the third. Since everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath waiting for me, I read it aloud. “‘Friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of—or perhaps because of—their dissimilarity.’”

I glanced sharply up at Arthur, but he only smiled and nodded for me to continue. The highlights in this book occurred at a much more rapid pace than the other books in his collection, and in a variety of colors that seemed to indicate more than one reader.

“The pink ones are mine,” Maisey said, confirming it.

Mateo nodded. “I got green, but only because the other colors were taken.”

“Grandpa is yellow,” Greg added, “and I’m blue.”

Even Nigel felt compelled to add to this. “I’m orange, but as we’re only just starting to get to know each other, there aren’t as many as I’d like. I hope that’s all right.”

My head swam as I scoured the pages, the colors and the words blurring together so much that it felt like wading through a neon rainbow. Every highlighted passage spoke of friendship and affection, of hope and optimism. Alone, they were happy little sound bites that were pleasing to the eye. Stitched together, they became something else entirely.

They became a love letter of words and sentiment—and one that was addressed entirely to me.

“You guys did this?” I blinked back tears as I searched their faces for some sign of sarcasm, but there was none to be found. Everywhere I looked was honesty and love. Love most of all. “For me?”

“It was Arthur’s idea,” Maisey said as she pulled me to my feet. She put her arms around me and hugged me so tightly that I felt my bones might crack. It was the hug of a mother and a friend, and I felt like I could rest there for hours. “He wanted to make sure you knew how he felt before you took off and left us. And we do feel that way—all of us. Since the moment you showed up in front of my house in your little car and stakeout hat, my life has become everything I’ve dreamed of. My relationship with Bella is on its way to being mended, I’ve never had so many appreciative mouths to feed, and I can’t wait to read whatever book we pick out next. Thank you for giving me that.”

She let me go so abruptly that I thought I might cry out, but Mateo was right there to take her place.