Page 63 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“Several times,” Jasper said. He caught Zach turning an interested eye toward the books and quickly changed the subject. “But that’s not what I brought you out here to say.”

Noodle lowered himself to the end of the mildewed mattress and folded his hands in his lap with an air of expectancy. Zach almost did the same, but he must have decided that the rickety frame wasn’t up to his weight because he leaned in the doorway instead.

“Am I allowed to hear this?” he asked. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Or is it better if I make myself scarce? I can, you know. I spotted some chicken-of-the-woods on our way down that I wouldn’t mind scooping up.”

“There are chickens out here?” Noodle asked. “Where? I didn’t see any.”

Zach offered him a crooked smile. “Not the kind you’re thinking of, Aloysius. I’m talking fungi. Sulphur polypore. Sweet, earthy delicacies that’ll—”

Noodle made a face. “Ew.Mushrooms?”

Jasper held back his laugh. One of these days, he was going to lose control and actually release one, but he wasn’t that far gone yet.

“You can stay if you want to,” he said to Zach. “It’s the least I can do after you trekked all the way down here with that deadweight on yourback—especially since you still have to cart him back up.” Jasper pointed a warning finger. “But you’re not to tell any of this to Chloe, understand? It’s meant to be between us men.”

Zach saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“Really?” Noodle asked, his eyes widening. “Like a secret?”

“Exactly like a secret,” Jasper said. “I don’t want your sister thinking I go around offering violence to every young person who gets on my bad side.”

Noodle’s eyes only got bigger, but Zach turned to him with narrow-eyed interest.

“Violence, huh?” he murmured. “I bet you packed a mean punch back in your heyday. You have the build for it.”

“I did.” Jasper pressed his mouth into a flat line. “I once punched a man so hard I broke his jaw.”

Noodle’s response to this was a squeak—of excitement, maybe, or dismay.

“I shouldn’t have done it, of course,” Jasper said, lest the boy get the wrong idea. “Hurting another human being is never the answer—no matter how strong the provocation or how much you want to do it.”

“Did you want to do it?” Noodle asked. He was a bright enough kid to pick up on the subtext—that this story would tie into his own recent skirmish, and that Jasper had brought him out to the middle of nowhere with the sole intent to discuss it.

“Oh, I definitely wanted to.” Jasper lifted his hand and flexed as if feeling the crack of William McBride’s jaw breaking all over again. “He stole the love of my life.”

Noodle pointed at the picture of Catherine. “You mean that pretty lady right there?”

“Her name was Catherine Martin,” Jasper said. “And the day I punched him was the day after I found out I was going to be a father.”

22

1960

It was a truth universally acknowledged that when two young star-crossed lovers shared a bed and a single copy ofTropic of Cancer, their story would end in ruin.

“Jasper, would you please stop pacing back and forth and sit down?” Catherine sat perfectly composed at the small table and chairs sitting outside the secret cabin, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug of chicory coffee. She had yet to take a sip, but the warmth of the beverage seemed to be giving her strength. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Jasper muttered without slackening his pace. He felt pretty sure he’d never be able to smell chicory again without feeling this same sensation: utter, blinding terror followed immediately by a happiness that was so overwhelming it threatened to topple him where he stood. “I never should’ve let you seduce me.”

Catherine’s rich, delicious peal of laughter did much to calm the frenzy of his stride.

“Bless you, Jasper Holmes, for making me the villain of this piece. It’s a role I’ve always had a desire to play.” She patted the seat opposite her. “Sit. I mean it.”

He sat, but only because he was pretty sure the first rule of ruining a woman was letting her decide when and how to proceed with the fallout.

“How far along are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He took the mug from her and kicked back the coffee, wincing at the earthy burn of it. “Or—wait. Do you even know? Have you been to a doctor?” He groaned. “Oh God. Have you told your parents?”

Her hands slid over the top of his, her grip strong despite her smaller size.