Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I want to thank my betas, U2Shay and Adt216, for helping me through this process.
Welcome new readers. I'd like to say a special thank you to shasta53 for recommending this story.
March 24, 1945
"I love you too, Jasper," she said again.
Her smile widened. Her fingers moved around her as she searched for the stack of papers she had yet to read. She was anxious to hear more from the man she now knew was hers. Her fingers trembled in anticipation. Her heart beat more rapidly in her chest. This anticipation, this spark was what she'd been waiting for, and without a doubt, Jasper Allen Hale was worth every bit of the wait.
March 1, 1945
My Dear Miss Alice,
Well, if you're reading this stack of pages, then I must not have run you off completely. And since you're giving me a chance to continue, I'll begin by thanking you. Thank you for listening to me and for caring enough to read my words.
To answer the questions from your last letter, Alec and I share humor in simple things, most notably our common dislike of the food rations and the fact that I am an idiot. Yes, Alec knows me well enough by now to realize that my stupidity can cause hurt without it being my intention. He forgives me this horrendous failing and I hope you will as well.
So what can I tell you that will help you understand, Miss Alice? Yes, you will have to get used to being called Miss, at least for a little while longer. I am however shocked by your next words. Do you think so little of me to assume that when I mentioned getting to know you intimately I meant biblically? Good grief. One minute my heart is rapidly beating out of my chest over the fear that I've insulted you, and the next I'm rolling my eyes at how you mock me with your humor. I hope you have some significant 'tells' or else I'm going to be in a world of hurt when we finally lay eyes on each other.
I must be good at deception in addition to my other skills if you have been lulled into believing I have an intellect. Alec, of course, may claim otherwise. I apologize for any confusion the mix of my vulgarity, southern slang, and high talking may have caused you. It is true that I'm a multi-faceted man, but I welcome the opportunity to allow you to pick apart my brain. Maybe I'll even call you by something other than your surname afterwards.
As I read your letter, I'm hit with both an amazing feeling of joy and one of deeper melancholy. I'm so happy to hear that you have found feelings for me, and I'm also ashamed that I've warmed myself to you only to hurt you with my actions. Alice, the only thing good I can say came of that night was the knowledge of how much I want you and only you. It's an ache that no other words or arms will ease, only yours. Please believe me when I tell you that I don't want to have any other woman. You can try to convince yourself it's your age that would put me off. I assure you it will not. Forgive my stupidity and do not berate yourself for allowing me to slip beneath your defenses. I am yours if you'll trust yourself enough to take me, faults and all. You may not see it, but believe me when I tell you that my hand is open and waiting for yours.
When it comes to my missions here in London, I can't lie and tell you that I am not often in danger. I also can't tell you more than this. Just know that I have a very good reason to ensure that I make it back to U.S. soil in one piece— peach pie. My mom makes one heck of a pie. No, Alice, I'm teasing you of course. You are the reason I will take the utmost care when performing my duties. Let me also tell you that Alec will be quite pleased when I inform him of your influence. He often reminds me that he has a wife and two sons who are anxiously awaiting their father's return. He's quick to repeat that I need to carry my own weight in our partnership so that he can return to the family he cherishes. Your concerns only serve as another reason to follow his simple but heady request.
In your letter you mentioned Bella's confidence in me as your and Serena's protector. Please tell her that I will do my best not to betray that faith in me ever again. When I read your words about Serena's christening, I was both happy and envious. You see through me so easily, Alice. Yes, I am jealous of any man who can stand beside you. I long to be the one standing at your side, breathing the same air you do, brushing my fingertips against the back of your hand, seeing you smile and hearing your laughter. These are all things that I can only imagine from afar. So, yes, quite simply I am jealous of Emmett McCarty, but I take some solace in the fact that you equate the man to the comfort you would find in the old church biddies. Yes, that makes it much more palatable. I can also promise that you won't get a crick in your neck looking up at me. I'll be on my knees before you. You'll only have to look down and smile on me to make my heart fly. And should my knees begin to ache, I'll simply stand and lift you to where you can see the surroundings at the height of normal human beings.
I loved hearing the story of your grandparents, and I am grateful that you are your grandmother's daughter. I don't have much of a mind for playing bridge, and I can't tell you the value of a fine set of china vs. the tin we've always eaten off of at home. But I can say that your grandfather was a lucky man. If he saw in his wife a smile that made his heart happy after many years of marriage, then he was truly blessed in life and in love. I pray to have the same chance at that gift. Perhaps that kitchen wouldn't mind another couple spinning across its floor? You do dance, I hope. You know I love to ride, but what brings you enjoyment? Aside from your civic duties and writing me letters, what do you do with your free time?
I love getting to know more about you and the things that make you happy. I also want to know the things that make you feel sad. For any man to truly love a woman, he has to know her whole heart. So as in letters past, I'll share with you more of mine. You asked about my father and him tanning my hide. Yes, that happened, more often than I care to admit, but never without just cause. Sometimes a boy just needs a good smart on the rump to knock his brains up from his hind end and back to where they belong. I love my father with my whole heart. I respect him for his love for my mother, his fairness to his sons, and his dedication to the land.
The drought years hit along the panhandle when I was about seven. I remember how hard my dad worked to keep the farm. We had wheat fields, but they failed when the rains stopped coming. Dad, like many other farmers, increased the size of the cattle herd so we could sell the cream when the crops failed. When there was no more grain for feed, we moved from wheat to thistle. When the hearty thistle failed, he nearly broke his back digging up soap weed and chopping it by hand. Still, somehow because of his grit and perseverance, we managed to survive. This is why I gave those boys Ria. I knew what it was like to watch my father struggle for years to keep his family fed. We lived below what was considered the dust bowl, but the drought still traveled far enough south to affect us. To this day, my bitter regret is not saying I love you to him before I left. My mother often writes to me and tells me how he's doing. I tell them both I love them when I reply, but I want another chance to have him hear the words. It is a sadness that weighs heavily on my heart. Although I hope you have no regrets, I want to know what weighs heavily on your shoulders. I want to be the one to lighten your load and shoulder your worries. Your worries are mine, please share them with me.
I'm relieved that your house is secure and that you live among friends. My concerns won't be fully put to bed until I have an opportunity to see it for myself. I'll try to remember that you are safe when my mind wanders in concern. It's your letters that ease my anxiety, but while waiting for the next one, I'll do my best to keep my mind on the tasks at hand. Hopefully there won't be any ammunition pointed in my direction to snap my attention away from my daydreams of you.
I'm holding your handkerchief among the most valued possessions I own. I've pinned it beneath my shirt so I'll always have it close to me. Your scent lingers on it. I hope it lasts long enough until I can breathe you in, wrapped tightly in my arms.
I have to go now, but I will be anxiously waiting for your reply. I hope with all my heart that it will come, and soon.
Yours faithfully,
Jasper
P.S. The apple game?
a**AAA**a
Alice pressed her forehead into the palm of her hand as she stared at the notes on her school desk. She was working on her lesson for the morning and trying to provide descriptions of the cloud types in terms that third graders would easily understand.
Cumulus clouds look like stiff mashed potatoes or puffs of smoke from your father's pipe.
Stratus clouds look like a baby blanket, neat rows of knits and pearls covering the sky.
She tapped her pencil lightly against the page as she thought of the best tangible description for the wispy feathers of a cirrus cloud.
"Miss Brandon?" a voice called.
Alice looked up to see Mrs. Emily Brown, the school secretary, standing in her doorway. The woman looked flushed from her trip down the hall to her classroom.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Mr. McKinley would like to see you…now. We have a visitor."
Alice nodded once, realizing that this was likely related to the visit Susan Clearwater had paid her last Friday. She stood and straightened her blouse before moving around her desk. She quietly followed Emily while taking deep breaths along the way. She kept reminding herself of her promise not to be a coward. She did nothing wrong. She was strong. She would not allow them to reprimand her for teaching a young child. She was right; she was confident. Despite her shaking form, she held her chin high. Jasper's love was her shield.
Alice turned the corner and followed Miss Emily into the principal's office. She steeled herself as Emily paused outside of Principal McKinley's door and waved her forward. Alice tried not to let her feelings show. Despite her confidence, she was not above the worry and disgrace she would feel if she were to be relieved of her teaching position. Alice knocked lightly on the door and waited. The deep voice of her principal beckoned her to enter. She was immediately hit by a wave of smoke from the room's occupants. Alice was more than a bit shocked to find not Susan Clearwater in Principal McKinley's presence, but the honorable Judge Harold Clearwater instead. A fresh wave of butterflies hit her stomach, and it was all she could do not to present both gentlemen with the remnants of her lunch.
"Miss Brandon," Principal McKinley called as his eyes found her. "Come in."
The man was neither cold nor welcoming. He could only be described as reserved in the judge's presence. Alice nodded stiffly before moving to join the men in the center of the room. She lifted her eyes and pulled back her shoulders before meeting the soft smile of Leah's silver haired father.
"Miss Brandon," he called out, extending his hand to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Alice's eyes grew wide at the fact that the man who should be heaving insults in her direction was instead welcoming her. Her brow furrowed in confusion for a mere instant before she recovered enough to take the gentleman's outstretched hand.
"Likewise, sir," she answered with more tremor to her voice than she would have liked.
"Miss Brandon, I've called you down to my office because Judge Clearwater here has asked to speak with you. I'm sure you know of his daughter, Leah."
"Yes, sir," Alice replied with a little more confidence this time.
"Yes, Miss Brandon. I wanted the opportunity to personally offer you my gratitude. My daughter, Leah, speaks very highly of you."
Alice felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head. She was no more surprised by the Judge's compliments than his wife's venom. What the hell was wrong with this family? Alice did her best to muster her composure before her disbelief gave her feelings away.
"Leah told me about the extra time you've been spending with her teaching her some history lessons," the judge continued. "She's never been more excited to come to school each day, and for this I am very grateful. You see, Leah is an only child and is quite…sheltered by her mother. I often fear that Susan's coddling sets Leah apart from her classmates. This will not serve her well as she matures. I also know that Susan can be a bit—obstinate. She disagreed with my decision to send Leah to public school but after hearing of your efforts, I am quite pleased to have made that decision. There are few other things that I can want for Leah other than the confidence she's demonstrated in the last few weeks. For this, Miss Brandon, I am quite grateful to you."
Alice all but choked on her own tongue before she stuttered a quiet 'thank you' in response. The judge gently smiled at her before turning to Principal McKinley.
"You need more teachers like this one, George. She's a fine example of what the right teacher can do in shaping a young child's future."
Principal McKinley smiled broadly. It was the biggest reaction Alice had seen from the man in the two and a half years she'd been working at Easton elementary.
"Yes, Judge Clearwater. We pride ourselves on having the finest teaching staff at our children's disposal."
Judge Clearwater turned back to Alice and extended his hand once more.
"Thank you for seeing me," he said kindly with a glint in his eye. "I know Susan also appreciates your efforts with Leah. We had a long talk about it together on Friday evening. She also wants to offer her appreciation."
Alice nodded her head furiously as she accepted the judge's warm hand.
"Thank you, sir. Please also relay my thanks to Leah's mother."
"You're welcome." He smirked before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially. "I've often thought that a judge and an Indian chief have a lot in common." He winked.
The judge smiled once more and then cocked his head to examine the broach on Alice's blouse more closely.
"This is lovely. Is it intended to imitate primrose?"
"Yes." Alice beamed.
"Aahh, young love, I cannot live without you."
"Pardon me?" Alice asked, pulling back in shock.
"Primrose. The intention behind the flower is young love. It is given when a man feels as though he cannot live without the woman he desires. It's quite a sentiment." The judge nodded gently before adding, "The giver of this broach has very strong intentions."
"He's away at war, but I hope he'll be home soon," Alice shyly replied.
The judge gently laid his hand over top of Alice's. "I hope that for you too."
a**AAA**a
Alice had a renewed sense of confidence by the time she returned to her home for the evening. Twilight was circling her small town as she pulled into her drive. Her fingers curled around the letters in her mailbox and she couldn't help but allow her mind to drift to her response to Jasper's letters. She didn't want him waiting too long for her reply. Her thoughts wavered between being cross with him and throwing herself (proverbially, of course) into his outstretched arms. Once inside the warmth of her home, Alice threw the mail on the telephone table by the hall closet and turned to hang up her coat. Food was the first order of business. She'd be able to think better on a full stomach. As the water boiled for pasta and the chicken sautéed in lemon butter sauce, her mind raced to catch up with her feelings.
Should I tell him I love him straight away or wait until the end of the letter?
Alice stared beyond the steam from the boiling pot of water and across the counter to where she'd laid her mail. Her eyes paused and then focused on the calendar where today's date, March 24th, seemed to jump off the page.
Three weeks. It's been three weeks since he sent me his letter and probably another three before he receives my reply.
"Six weeks is too long to wait to hear an I love you in return."
The answer, now spoken out loud, echoed in her heart. She would tell Jasper of her feelings the same way he had delivered them to her, honestly and upfront.
An hour later, Alice sat at the desk in her bedroom and looked over the pages from Jasper's letters. Each one reminded her of a different side of the man who held her heart. She lightly traced the page with his playful banter and decided this one would be the easiest to answer first. A slow grin spread across her face as she scribbled another snarky reply at the tail end of Jasper's, then quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into a fresh envelope.
With the easy words out of the way she blew out a breath through her puckered bottom lip and fluttered the ebony waves that surrounded her cheek.
You can do this, Alice, she admonished herself. Just open your heart and tell him how you feel.
March 24, 1945
My Dear Jasper,
I love you, too.
Your words were like air to me when I read them on Monday. It was my birthday and up until the moment I read those three beautiful words, it had been the worst birthday of my life.
Alice wiped her fingers across her brow. She struggled with cracking herself open even wider for Jasper, but this was what she needed to do to show him the depth of her feelings in return.
About a month ago, I began working with a girl at school named Leah Clearwater. She was having trouble finding her niche with her classmates, and my efforts with her were intended to help draw her out of her shell. She had an interest in playing cowboys and Indians with the schoolboys. Leah is a bit of a tomboy trapped in the wrapping of a very well-to-do little girl package and had trouble making real friends at school. I know a bit about what that's like. You see, Bella was the tomboy, and I was the one trapped inside the shell. I was never quite comfortable being in the neat and tidy package my mother presented. Cindy easily fit that role, but it was never a match for me. When Bella and her father came to town, she didn't fit the same mold as all of the other girls around town. She wasn't interested in "girly" things and although my mother discreetly thought of her as unrefined, I thought she was a breath of fresh air, unmarred by the rules of polite society where girls had defined and predestined roles. Bella and I became fast friends because she shoved me out of my suffocating shell. She didn't like the role I played to appease my parents, but she accepted it anyway. She would climb trees and inspect fox holes while I taught her that not all "girly" things were bad. She didn't have a mother to show her how to do these things, but as a best friend I filled in where I could. The point to all of this is that I saw both myself and Bella in Leah and was drawn to help her out of that shell that made her smaller than she was destined to be.
Over the course of a few days, we learned about Indians indigenous to the area, their culture, language, dress, and customs. We made paper costumes for her to share with the boys and even recruited little Brady to be a member of her tribe. (For once, something as simple as a paper tomahawk proved to hold more interest for him than the old turtle shell.)
Everything seemed to go according to plan until Leah fell in the schoolyard and skinned her knee last Friday. Her mother paid me a visit a few days later, although "visit" would be a very polite way of describing the encounter. Needless to say, Mrs. Clearwater was very, very unhappy with me. In her eyes, I was undoing all of her work to prime her daughter for her future. To her mother, Leah is destined to marry and marry well. As such, my efforts to help her daughter fit in with the local ruffians was not welcomed in the least. In fact, she made it quite clear that I had no business encouraging Leah's mind, her spirit, or challenging her beyond her school lessons. I should not encourage her to reach for a brass ring; her mother already has her sights on a diamond one.
Mrs. Clearwater sunk in her claws with the last of her hateful words. She reminded me that I was living alone, watching my youth pass me by. Her daughter would not end up like me, with nothing but her dreams to comfort her. Jasper, I know these words will hurt you. It is not easy for me to repeat them to you. They lay me bare and expose for you all of my fears and insecurities. But as you've said, for you to really love me you need to know my whole heart. I'm sharing my burdens with you as I ask to share yours in return.
Before my letter sends you running for the first boat home, let me assure you that I'm fine. Okay, not fine, but like the dance was for you, the experience with Mrs. Clearwater brought about my own discovery. When I came home that night, I spent a long time on the floor of my foyer sobbing and drowning in self pity. It was not one of my finer moments. I knew that if the same hateful words had been tossed in my direction six months ago I would have been hurt, but they would not have sliced me wide open. They hurt so much because truth is, I am alone. Wait, please allow me to finish. To those around me, I am alone. No one other than Bella and Edward know about our correspondence. I've always harbored some anxiety over you being an image but not a reality. I didn't want to get folks riled up if you were really just a dream... As you know, dreams that don't materialize can be more painful than holding onto something real and having it taken away. This is exactly why Mrs. Clearwater's words cut me deeply. Until your letters, no one other than Bella had ever gotten this close to me. I am vulnerable because I have found someone I want to know and love more deeply than I ever have before. Although her words cut me, in turn your words heal me. Your love is my shield and no matter what she or anyone else thinks, I know the truth. I'm not alone so long as you're out there, wanting me.
With her free hand, Alice wiped away stray tears as her pen scratched against the stationary. She looked down just as a missed tear fell on the fine linen paper bleeding out and creating a well against the flat surface of the page. She too was changed, no longer flat, but made deeper and marked by Jasper's love. Alice shook her head. She needed to change the subject before she turned them both into a mess of longing and need. She sniffed back her tears and a wry smile crossed her face as she pressed her pen forward.
This brings me to my next topic, your gifts. Jasper, I don't know where to start. The polite thing to say would be thank you, and I do thank you. They're lovely, and so very thoughtful. It fills me with so much happiness and pride when I wear the brooch. At the same time, I do have a bone to pick with you. I'm outraged that you would think that your gifts are unworthy of me. I've worried about this more than a few times over the last few days, wondering what I could have written in my letters to make you think that your gifts weren't good enough for me. It's shameful to have you think that I would toss aside a gift from you…from YOU because it wasn't precious in worldly terms. Jasper, everything from you is precious, especially when it comes from your heart. Remember what I've told you, I am my grandmother's child. And in case you were wondering, I cannot live without you either.
Part of me wants to sweep your dance with Nurse Kate under the rug and not discuss it. Deep down I know that wouldn't be fair to either of us. So I guess I'll start by saying my immediate reaction to your fear of running me off is to scoff, act haughtily, and say that you don't know me very well if you think I can be run off from anyone. But that's the side of me that I show everyone else in this world. You know me well enough to realize that your words would hurt and ache, but the truth is they also heal and mend. They do it all, which is why, despite my fears, I can't turn away from you. I don't want to go back to the muted life I had before finding you. I do hurt; I do ache. I feel it all, but I wouldn't trade it because of those three beautiful words you wrote. I understand what happened and why. To be honest, I hate the idea of you holding someone else, and although I don't need an apology, I accept yours nonetheless. By the way, self-loathing is unbecoming of a United States soldier. Hint, hint.
So, I suppose I should finally relay the story of the apple game. I'm afraid it will disappoint you. There isn't that much to tell. It's an embarrassing girl's game really. You know how a fresh picked apple often has the stem still attached? Well, girls, even brazen and wild girls like Bella and me, often play this game to learn the identity of the man they'll someday marry. The game goes like this: you hold the apple by its stem and recite the alphabet while spinning the apple. When the apple finally drops, whichever letter was last said is the first letter of the name of the man you'll marry. Bella's letters varied widely, never landing on the same letter twice, whereas mine always dropped on the same letter nearly every time. J. Now before you either faint from shock or become ridiculously smug at the precognition of a little girl's game, just remember that there were and still are many eligible J's in Easton, Maryland. There's seven year old Jacob in the room across the hall. There's Mr. Jenkins who runs the local hardware store. (Although pairing up with him might raise a few eyebrows, given he's nearly thirty five years my senior.) Then there's Jared who after one date last year left me running for the hills. (Sorry, I just can't stomach the idea of becoming an undertaker's wife.) So, I guess you'll have to do. Assuming the offer's still open, I gladly accept your heart and reach out my hand to take yours in return.
Which brings me to my next topic, it's a form of blackmail actually. It seems as though through your polite but persistent nagging that you would like me to supply you with a photograph of myself. I feel as though I should use this desire to my advantage. So if you'd like to receive my photograph, then I must no longer be referred to as "Miss Alice." By now, your love for me should be enough familiarity for you to get over whatever honorable concerns you have over me. Please? My fragile ego can't take the distance much longer.
Alice smiled, hoping that her play on words would allow Jasper to know she wanted the distance both in the formality of his address and in that which covered an ocean to end soon. She grinned, knowing he was quick enough to pick up on her double meaning.
And might I add, that must be one hell of a peach pie for it to be the reason to bring you back from the war in one piece. If the first thing you're looking for is a pie when our paths finally cross, no matter how much your knees ache on the ground before me, you'll have a long wait for my smile.
(Jasper, I'll fill you in on only one of my "tells." The rest you'll have to learn on your own.) A shy, demure smile like the one plastered across my face at the moment is hardly innocent, but I have half a mind to leave you on your knees anyway for your jokes about my height, or lack thereof.
You asked me about my regrets. Well, let me start by saying that your regret makes me cry for you. I don't want you to regret anything especially when it comes to your family. I want you to have the opportunity to tell your dad that you love him face to face, but I don't want you to wait until you come home. There's no reason to wait. Write to him and tell him how you feel. Then promise you'll say it again when you see him. Even though I've never seen your face, your written words touch me in ways I can't begin to explain, so I know it will mean so much to your dad to have him read it from your hand. As for me, I guess my regret is not following Bella into the OSS. It killed me to watch her walk away. She's so brave and so strong, and I regret not having the strength to follow her. She wanted to follow her father into the war, and come Hell or high water she was going to prove to him that she was every bit as capable as any one of his soldiers. She experienced life and love, and she grew up and matured right before my eyes. She left as a girl and came back as a confident and powerful woman. Sometimes I feel as though she grew up without me and left me behind. I know she loves me; I just wonder if she looks up to me as much as she once did. It seems as though the roles have reversed, and I look to her for advice more often than she seeks out mine. I wonder if I would have met you sooner if I'd followed Bella…that is definitely something to regret.
I think I'm more selfish than you are, Jasper. It's not your next letter I want; it's you, flesh and blood. I read your words of wrapping your arms tightly around me and breathing in my scent. I want to give that to you, but until your job in London is done, I'll give you my touch in another way. You asked me what I do more or less for fun. The answer is that I sculpt. To me, sculpting is like an extension of teaching. You take a fresh, pliable material, and with a few simple tools, water and patience you can transform it into something unique, beautiful and maybe even inspiring. Over the past few months, you have been my inspiration for some new pieces. I want you to read my descriptions and then follow my words with your actions. Now please sit down and take your right hand and place it against your thigh, spreading your fingers a comfortable distance from each other. Then slowly press down on your middle finger lifting the remaining fingers just barely above the surface of your skin. Now, slowly and gently drag that middle finger an inch toward your palm. This is the sculpture I've made, and it's called "Touch." Now I want you to imagine that your hand is mine, and I have it placed against your chest, right over your heart.
Alice stood and placed her hand flat against the cool glass of her bedroom window. She repeated the action she described to Jasper until her fingers delicately curled leaving a trail of condensation on the glass in the wake of her movements. She imagined stroking the bare skin of Jasper's chest, feeling skin and muscle and bone. Her own heart pounded in anticipation, and she closed her eyes and imagined feeling his pulse through the heat of his body. She allowed her thoughts to wander and sucked in a deep breath imagining his hand following the piece she was working on currently. Seconds passed then minutes, as she dreamt of Jasper's touch. Finally, Alice shook her head, bringing herself back out of her dream and returning to her letter. She would make him feel what she felt and give him everything he couldn't feel with his body in her words.
I dream of knowing you like this. Touching you like this until your pulse beats as quickly as mine. The second piece, the one I'm working on now is my mind's vision of how I see you responding. Take your hand and turn it over. Let it rest loosely against your thigh. Lift your hand slightly and then slowly drag the knuckle of your littlest finger against your thigh. The piece is called "Tender." It's your hand. Now close your eyes and imagine your hand brushing that knuckle in that same gentle action against my cheek. I'm looking up into your eyes and repeating the same simple words so you'll believe I'm telling you the truth with every fiber of my being.
I love you, too.
Stay safe, keep Alec safe for his wife and boys, and come home to me soon.
Forever yours,
Alice
A/N: I went back and forth over re-writing this chapter. I thought a lot about Alice's reaction and hope it strikes the right chord. In the end she's truthful with Jasper about how he hurt her but doesn't go into a tirade either. I guess she feels the honesty he relays in his letters and gives him not only the benefit of the doubt but her own heart in return.
Thanks for reading and reviewing.
-FirstBlush
The Long Way Home Historical Research and Reference Guide:
Story reference: Alice is shocked to find the meaning of the flower brooch that Jasper sent to her.
Historical Significance: The intention behind a primrose, found near Nickel Creek is: Young Love, I cannot live without you.
Source: http:/www(dot)iflorist(dot)com/t-meaning(dot)aspx
Story reference:Alice is thinking of ways to describe the cloud types to her third graders
Historical Significance: I had to cheat here and look up the different cloud types because I couldn't remember all of them from third grade science class.
Source: http:/www(dot)enchantedlearning(dot)com/subjects/astronomy/planets/earth/clouds/