Page 17 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“No way,” I breathed as I drew closer to the image. Sure enough, I recognized the frowning, heavy-featured face, though most of it was hidden behind a scratchy growth of beard. “Is that Jasper Holmes? And is he…hot?”

Pepper’s peal of laughter was loud enough to cause Theo to pull down his headphones and glare us into quieting down.

“I know, right?” she said, lowering her voice to a hush. “Who knew a man like that could’ve been such a dish? If hedidkill a girl, it was probably with that smolder.”

“‘The Neilson Logging Corporation celebrates a hundred years with its latest crew,’” I read from the caption. “I guess that makes sense?Almost everyone who lived around here back then was involved with either the radar base or timber in some form or another. He had to make a living.”

“It also explains why he was having a love affair with some random chick in the pages of a library book,” Pepper said. “Try telling me you wouldn’t fall head over heels if a guy like that starting talking Hemingway to you. I know you, Chloe. All it takes is one line of poetry, and your panties practically fly right off.”

“Pepper!” I cast a look over at Theo, but he was once again absorbed in the computer. I lowered my voice to a hiss. “That’s not true. These days, a guy could read me the whole ofThe Iliadin original Greek, and all it would do is make me annoyed at him for wasting my time. If he brought me a trunk full of groceries, however…”

I thought about Zach as I trailed off. Much to my annoyance, a flush of heat rose to my cheeks. I knew, deep down, that all that flirtatious nonsense from earlier had been his way of putting me at ease, to distract me from the fact that I very nearly lost Noodle today. I also suspected that Zach probably didn’t read anything except the occasional wilderness survival guide. Hemingway quotes were way out of the question.

Pepper grinned. “I’m just saying. The sooner we get our hands on whatever copy of Hemingway that Jasper and his mystery ladylove doodled in, the better. I’m dying to know what happened between them.”

“Knowing Jasper Holmes, he probably grunted and growled at her until she had no choice but to run screaming for her life,” I said, but I was careful to refold the picture and tuck it safely away.

“You think?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s what any sane woman confronted with a curmudgeon like that would do.”

7

1960

Catherine had been working at the Colville Public Library for almost three weeks when she stumbled upon the copy ofA Farewell to Arms.

Of all the books that moved through the shelves in this town, Hemingway’s works were some of the most popular. According to Mrs. Peters, the woman who’d hired her and who treated all her employees as if they were attending a wayward school for fallen women, it was because Hemingway was one of the greats.

“A master of restraint,” she’d intoned in the pompous, ceremonial drawl that was already starting to work its way into Catherine’s dreams. “It’s what he doesn’t say that says the most.”

While Catherine agreed with this literary analysis, she suspected that Hemingway’s true popularity had more to do with his subject matter. Anything war or military related was beloved in these parts. When a town’s entire economy revolved around the local military base—and when almost every social activity involved the hundred or so single men who worked there—that kind of interest was inevitable.All Quiet on the Western FrontandThe Red Badge of Courageenjoyed equal popularity.

As did the numerous young men who wandered inside the library tocheck out books, kill time and, more often than not, ogle the librarians.

“Don’t look now, but William McBride is giving you googly eyes from the nonfiction section,” said a low, hissed voice from behind Catherine. “That makes the fourth time he’s come in this week.”

“The fifth,” Catherine said with a sigh. She ducked out of the way so as not to fall under the direct gaze of those googly eyes. “You weren’t here yesterday, but he came in right before closing to look up something about Egyptian sun goddesses.”

Lonnie groaned. She was one of the four other part-time librarians on staff and rapidly becoming Catherine’s favorite person in the whole of Colville. Catherine had already witnessed the gorgeous Native American girl put several patrons in their place when they questioned her knowledge of all things bookish—and she did it with such a bland, unassuming smile that they had no idea how quickly she’d shown them to be the narrow-minded fools they were.

“Don’t tell me,” Lonnie said, laughing. “He told you that if you couldn’t find anything in the archives, he’d worship you instead.”

Catherine decided right then and there that Lonnie was, in fact, hermostfavorite person in the whole of Colville. Possibly even the entire West Coast.

“That’s pretty close, actually,” Catherine admitted. “Is it just me, or does he have an abnormal amount of teeth? I swear, when he smiles, it’s like looking at the Cheshire cat.”

“From what I understand, his parents paid a fortune for those teeth. You should learn to appreciate them better.” Lonnie glanced over her shoulder at where Second Lieutenant William McBride stood lurking. He held a book open in his hands as though deeply enthralled, but Catherine could tell that his eyes weren’t moving across the page. “Poor guy. He’s besotted with you.”

Catherine pulled a face and turned her back on the young officer. Even with all the teeth, he was a handsome enough young man, hisfeatures proportionate, his hair perfectly slicked back, his uniform in a state that she was pretty sure would have her father salivating with approval.

Unfortunately, she’d met his like before. She wasalwaysmeeting his like.

He’d be faultlessly polite to her father, flatteringly impressed by her mother, and patronizingly protective of her. Their first date would be to the local diner and maybe a movie at the drive-in a few miles north of town, where he’d have a flask of gin ready and waiting to keep them warm. He’d try to slide his hand up her leg. She might even let him. But at the end of the day, he’d take her safely home again.

Yes, sir. No, sir. It’s an honor to take your daughter out, sir.

And underneath those bland nothing-sayings would be the unspoken part she always felt simmering under the surface.