The New Arrival

by Marianne Greenleaf

Marian has a new assistant! Miss Jane Edna Peabody is young, intelligent and enthusiastic - the perfect person to help run things while the librarian prepares for motherhood. But Marian is having difficulty ceding control of her precious library...

11. Second Epilogue: Miss Peabody's New Beau

April 1925

Several years later, to the surprise and delight of both herself and her husband, Marian took another leave of absence from Madison Public Library to welcome Robert Eli Hill into the world. Though her pregnancy was a lot less challenging this time around, she had such unshakeable confidence in her dear assistant and friend that she remained at home for nearly four months, instead of the mere two-and-a-half months she had taken the first time she went into confinement. When Marian relinquished her position in mid-January, the trees were bare and the landscape was buried in several feet of snow, and when she resumed her normal schedule at the end of April, the blossoms were in full flower and the landscape was lush with new growth. And when the librarian saw just how far James Hearst's advances toward Jane had progressed during her absence, she reflected that the height of spring was indeed the time of year when a young man's fancy turned to thoughts of love.

Last August, Professor James Hearst arrived to town from Gloriosa, Kansas, having accepted the school board's offer to become the new history teacher at River City High School. The position had been vacant for two months due to the not entirely unexpected but nevertheless sudden passing of Horace Meriwether, an august institution who had held the job for the past forty-five years. Unlike Mr. Meriwether, who was every inch the stern, exacting and antiquated pedagogue, Mr. Hearst (who insisted on relinquishing his title of "professor" now that he was no longer teaching at the college level) was a handsome, pleasant and affable fellow in his mid-thirties. However, when both his looks and personality were taken together as a whole, Mr. Hearst presented a rather unassuming picture, so he didn't cause much excitement among the gossips at first. It wasn't until he became a regular fixture at the library and was often seen conversing with Miss Jane Edna Peabody that he became an object of interest that set tongues wagging. Was another romance brewing among the stacks in Madison Public Library? While Mr. Hearst was anything but bombastic in his demeanor, the River City-ziens had not seen such overt interest displayed toward one of their librarians since Professor Harold Hill came to town all those years ago – and everyone knew how that turned out!

By the time October rolled around, the townspeople were buzzing with all the details about this new arrival they could glean from observation and polite conversation, and subsequently fashioned them into a cohesive history they could use to assess the suitability of such a match. James Hearst had taught ancient languages and literature at Eastern Kansas Classical College in Gloriosa, hence the previous "professor" title. He wore no wedding ring, but he was not a lifelong bachelor; his wife had passed away a few years before. Being childless and seeking a change of scenery after his parents also passed away, he scoured the want ads throughout the Midwest and ultimately decided to resettle in River City.

As the majority of the town's spinsters and widows deemed Mr. Hearst too quiet and bookish for their tastes, despite his good looks, it was universally agreed that he and Miss Peabody would make a fine match. For not only were the history teacher and assistant librarian both college-educated and completely alone in the world – Miss Peabody's aunt and uncle had also recently passed away – they were around the same age, and possessed similar temperaments and interests. And although Miss Peabody was long past the usual marriageable age for a woman, she had never been prettier. Not only had she gradually perfected how to dress in colors and cuts that showed her looks to their best advantage, the fashions of the twenties perfectly suited her small, angular frame. And now that bobbed hair was all the rage and propriety no longer dictated that women must wear long and cumbersome tresses, the assistant librarian had taken the opportunity to shear her copious locks to just above her shoulders. The result was even lovelier than her loose chignons and crimson ribbons of yore: Miss Peabody's tight chestnut curls softened into a loose and flattering wave that, while retaining the tendency to become disordered when the assistant librarian was excessively active or traversing a windy thoroughfare, could easily be tamed with a comb or even just a few pats of her hand.

Ever sensitive to gossip pertaining to herself or her loved ones, Marian was well aware of what everyone was saying about Jane Peabody and James Hearst. Though she herself couldn't help watching the pair with some interest – she could certainly understand why everyone was so suspicious, as the assistant librarian and history teacher did have a lot in common and seemed to genuinely enjoy one another's company – she didn't put too much stock in the townspeople's idle speculations. After all, the history teacher's interactions with her friend were innocent enough to cast doubt in the rational observer's mind. As a result of Mr. Hearst's endeavors to develop challenging and rigorous lesson plans for his students, coupled with the fact that he was a scholar of the ancient world and the books he needed were scattered throughout the library, it was necessary for him to converse often with the assistant librarian regarding the collections. And while Jane might cheerfully have gone above and beyond to aid the history teacher in his efforts, she was merely providing the same chipper, thorough service as she would to any other patron. Out of everyone in River City, Marian knew Jane best of all, and even though her friend seemed to relish these laborious academic tête-à-têtes, she didn't regard Mr. Hearst with any secret smiles or fond glances – at least, none that the librarian could discern.

As for Jane's alleged suitor, he was a stranger, and a quiet man to boot, so Marian initially had difficulty ascertaining whether he felt something more than cordial camaraderie for her friend. However, as the weeks and months passed, the librarian did notice that Mr. Hearst was seeking more and more of her assistant's time, and some of his pretexts for doing so were downright flimsy. And one blustery, gray afternoon in late November, when the library was empty of all other patrons except the history teacher, Marian overheard him warmly praising Jane's clever mind and scrupulous attention to detail. To the librarian's unsurprised amusement, Jane dismissed these compliments with a light laugh and blasé shrug. But Marian was surprised to see how smoothly and nonchalantly Mr. Hearst steered the discussion into a different topic altogether after this dismissal. For the rest of his visit, he did not make even the slightest attempt to flirt with Jane again; their conversation turned so dry and dense that the librarian found herself nodding off where she sat. (But then again, it could simply have been the exhaustion of being six months pregnant that prompted her doze!) Still, it was clear to Marian that even if her assistant librarian remained blithely oblivious to the significance of such admiring remarks from an unmarried man, the history teacher was unmistakably developing an attraction to her.

Even as she felt some sympathy for the hapless Mr. Hearst, who was cautiously but undeniably fighting a losing battle, Marian had to giggle over the situation. Little did Jane know all those years ago when she rearranged the ancient history section that she was sowing the seeds for her own romance! At first, the well-ordered Mr. Hearst was not particularly fond of the fact that the tomes pertaining to his subject of study were spread out all over the library, and this led to many civil debates with Jane, who respectfully but firmly maintained the library's position on the matter. But Mr. Hearst also refused to budge in his conviction that the ancient history volumes needed, or at the very least, deserved greater consolidation. It was a polite but stubborn battle of wills that Marian watched with barely contained laughter; the two of them were equally matched in their passion for proper organization of academic minutiae… and perhaps each other, as time went on. But as the librarian was never one to interfere in matters of the heart, she did not share her observations with anyone – not even her husband, though she surmised that Harold was just as aware of the potential romantic undercurrents between the assistant librarian and history teacher as anyone else in town.

As fall turned into winter, Marian became so thoroughly distracted by her confinement and the subsequent birth of her son that she soon forgot all about Mr. Hearst and the buzz of gossip surrounding him and the assistant librarian. Jane certainly never mentioned him during her visits to the Hill homestead – she either discussed library administrative matters or cooed over how utterly sweet and delicious baby Robert was – so for several months, the history teacher did not enter the librarian's thoughts at all. However, once Marian was fully recovered from childbirth and back to her usual schedule, she quickly noticed that things had progressed quite a bit further during her absence. Mr. Hearst was now visiting the library six days a week instead of three, and he steadfastly remained in residence from early afternoon to just before closing time. While Marian had only suspected the history teacher's interest in Jane last fall, she witnessed it was far more pronounced this spring; his countenance alone portrayed a man who was quietly but desperately in love. And as usual, the townspeople were in a frenzy over the affair.

Unbelievably, the only person who did not seem aware of Mr. Hearst's feelings was Jane. Marian watched the pair much more carefully for signs of clandestine romance, and noted that though the assistant librarian did not rebuff the history teacher's polite but constant attentions, and assisted him as patiently and indefatigably as she did any other patron, she did not seem to return his interest. While Marian did wonder at Jane's blithe obliviousness – which to her seemed almost purposely obstinate at times – she had to conclude that her dear friend was truly ignorant as to what Mr. Hearst's incessant loitering and long conversations indicated in regards to his feelings for her.

But scandal was brewing in Marian's library, and she could no longer ignore what was going on beneath the surface – even if the romance was entirely one-sided. While Jane's behavior was irreproachable as ever, Mr. Hearst was fast reaching the point where his conduct was both humiliating to his own dignity and causing too much distraction among the other library patrons. For while Cissy Gale and her friends had grown up and settled down into sedate existences as wives and mothers, each new generation brought with it a gaggle of silly girls who actively sought out and reveled in scandal-tinged romance – and whatever sordid details they couldn't ferret out from their observations of the assistant librarian and history teacher's lengthy but still-appropriate interactions, they certainly weren't above inventing!

So one Wednesday afternoon in the middle of May, Marian sent Jane on several errands that would take her awhile to complete. When Mr. Hearst came in and settled in his usual quiet corner – the librarian noted the flash of disappointment in the history teacher's eyes when he scanned the stacks and did not see the assistant librarian flitting in and out of them as per usual – she went over and struck up a conversation with him.

"May I help you find something, Mr. Hearst?"

He gave her a cordial smile. "Thank you kindly, Mrs. Hill, but I don't require any assistance at the moment." He gestured to the stack of papers in front of him. "I have several essays on Mesopotamia to grade, so I'll be occupied for the better part of the afternoon."

Marian nodded and smiled politely in return. For a moment, she wondered if she ought to return to the front desk and let the busy history teacher get on with his work. Perhaps it wasn't her place to interfere in such delicate matters. But then, as if to urge her onward, a sudden burst of high-pitched giggling erupted from the history section on the second floor – if the librarian had to guess, the girls had gotten into Casanova's Spanish Passions again.

After turning to toss a sharp "hush!" in the girls' direction, she took a seat across from Mr. Hearst and gazed levelly at him until he raised his head to look at her.

When he regarded her with a courteous but questioning smile, Marian opened the conversation in her characteristic straightforward manner:

"Mr. Hearst," she said gravely – though she made sure to maintain a nonchalant expression for the benefit of the other patrons, who weren't quite in earshot but could see them plain as day. "I don't wish to pry into your personal affairs or make untoward suppositions as to your character, but it has come to my attention that your behavior toward my assistant librarian is a bit warmer than one would expect of a mere friendly acquaintance… your behavior could easily be construed as courting, in certain circles. And the gossip mill in River City is quite robust in that regard, I'm afraid."

Although Marian was never one to sugarcoat matters, she had tried to be tactful as possible, not wanting to embarrass the mild-mannered history teacher. But to her surprise, Mr. Hearst did not look remotely abashed. Instead, he gave the librarian an appraising look – which was soon replaced by his usual affable smile.

"And what, precisely, have people noticed that would lead them to draw those conclusions?" he asked innocently. "A teacher spending a good deal of time in the library is hardly cause for such suspicion. Nor is his consulting the assistant librarian regarding scholarly matters – especially when his subject of study is spread out all over the library."

Marian smothered a smile at the wry note that slipped into Mr. Hearst's civil tone. "I understand your difficulty," she concurred. "Unfortunately, space constraints don't allow for a consolidated ancient history section, at present."

Mr. Hearst nodded ruefully. "I do understand, and meant no insult – the library collections are some of the most well-ordered I've ever seen." He regarded Marian with earnest eyes. "If I'm disturbing the peace in any way, I apologize. It wasn't my intention to cause trouble."

Mr. Hearst was so genial and apologetic that Marian was starting to feel embarrassed by her forwardness – perhaps it was best to end their conversation here and leave the poor man alone. But her conscience wouldn't allow her to do this. While the history teacher's demeanor was obliging enough on the surface, nothing had actually been resolved; he was clearly willing to dance around the issue until the cows came home. So it was time for her to be even more straightforward.

Letting her expression grow as serious as her tone, Marian continued to gaze steadily at the gracious but shrewd schoolteacher sitting across from her. "Allow me to be frank, Mr. Hearst. Jane is not just an assistant librarian to me; I couldn't love her more than if she were my own sister. I've been watching your interactions with my dear friend over the past several months, and while you have done nothing meriting reproach – as far as I have seen – it's clear that you feel something more for her than mere friendship. And while I don't disapprove of such developments, I would advise you to tread very carefully."

Mr. Hearst's smile faded. "Has Miss Peabody asked you to have this talk with me?" he asked quietly. "Does she want me to leave her alone?"

Marian shook her head. "She hasn't said a word to me. I'm not even sure if she's aware of your feelings for her."

Mr. Hearst looked relieved – and then crestfallen. He lowered his gaze to the pile of papers in front of him. "Well… nothing untoward has happened between us in the library during your absence. And no such shenanigans will occur in the future."

Even as Marian couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for his lovelorn plight, she continued, "I took it upon my own initiative to talk to you. In River City, we look out for our own. Jane may be unmarried and an orphan, but she is far from alone in the world."

Mr. Hearst's gaze snapped back to Marian's, making her gasp – she had never before seen him look so steely and intense. "I'm not a cad, Mrs. Hill," he coolly informed her. "I do care for your Miss Peabody – a great deal, in fact. It's my intention to court her honorably – if she's amenable to my attentions, of course." He paused, and the rueful smile reappeared on his countenance. "Unfortunately, I'm having a bit more difficulty determining her interest than I expected." He sighed and looked past her. Marian followed his gaze and saw that all the girls had gathered into a furtive, giggling cluster by the balcony railing and were now staring avidly down at the two of them from their lofty perch. "And now it seems my behavior is making me into a town spectacle. I do need to grade these papers this afternoon, but rest assured I'll curtail my visits from now on."

After glaring at the group – who quickly went about their business rather than face the librarian's wrath – Marian turned to regard the history teacher with a much kinder expression than she had displayed to the girls. "It's not my intention to run you off," she earnestly assured him. "Especially as you're hardly what a reasonable person would call a spectacle! This conversation was for your benefit as well as Jane's. Few people know better than I how merciless River City's gossips can be, even to the underserving. I only wanted to spare you the humiliation of potentially becoming a spectacle in the near future."

For a moment, Mr. Hearst regarded her with inscrutable eyes – and then the affable smile was back. "I appreciate the warning, Mrs. Hill," he said respectfully. His smile grew wistful. "I'm quite aware of how small towns work. In Gloriosa, we also looked out for our own. I spent my whole life there; grew up, married my high-school sweetheart, taught at the local college. My greatest dream was to raise a family, and failing that, to grow old with my Gracie and someday be buried in the family plot where she now rests. I never imagined I'd leave it all to start over in River City, Iowa; I'd never even heard of this place until I was looking for a job. I never imagined I'd spend my days as an affable nuisance in the public library, waiting for the pretty assistant librarian to smile sweetly but politely at me, as a beggar waits for a few crusts of bread to be thrown in his direction. And being a starving man, he gulps down those meager crumbs with the deepest gratitude… " He trailed off and shrugged, still smiling. "It's fascinating, isn't it, the unexpected directions life can take one?"

"I'm sorry," Marian replied, not knowing what else to say.

"It's all right," he said understandingly. "You have your dear friend's best interests at heart, and I'm a stranger to your town." Gathering his papers together, he stood from his seat. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hill. I'll be back another day, when the library is not so… occupied." He eyed the balcony, as did Marian. Sure enough, the girls were gathered at the edge of the railing once more, like crows that couldn't resist flocking around carrion no matter how many stones were thrown in their direction. "But for now, I think it would behoove us both if I found another place to grade my papers."

Though the librarian agreed it would probably be best for Mr. Hearst to depart from the library at present, she was saddened to have exacerbated his loneliness and made him feel like even more of an outsider. Wanting to make things up to him a bit, she offered, "I'll be sure to give Jane your regards when she returns from her errands."

Mr. Hearst shrugged as if it didn't much matter to him, and briskly finished gathering up his things. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hill," he repeated, his tone polite but distant as he tipped his hat to her. And then he was gone.

Thoroughly irked at both herself and the situation, Marian looked up at the balcony, ready to unleash a blistering tongue-lashing at her pesky audience. But the girls had wisely dispersed by now, so there was no one left to scold.

With a sigh and slump of her shoulders, Marian returned to the front desk and threw herself into neatening up the card catalog. She would keep her promise to Mr. Hearst and pass along his regards to Jane, but after the mess she made of her discussion with the history teacher, she decided not to have a similar talk with her assistant – at least for the time being.

XXX

However, little did the librarian know, her assistant had long been aware that Mr. Hearst's attentions indicated more than an interest in mere friendship. As Jane approached the doors to the library after the completion of her errands, she silently braced herself for yet another afternoon of pretending obstinate ignorance. As winter turned into spring, the history teacher's presence, though polite, had become so pronounced that even a naïve little goose like herself could not remain unaware she was being courted – though Jane was quite content to play the fool if it would make Mr. Hearst tire and move on. After all, this ploy had always served her well in the past. However, nearly nine months had passed since the history teacher's arrival to town, and he was still pursuing her as doggedly as ever. Jane was uneasily starting to wonder if, for the first time in her life, she was going to have to come up with a new tactic to put her would-be beau off his persistent pursuit.

Perhaps she ought to come right out and tell Mr. Hearst that he needed to forget about any romantic dreams he may or may not possess regarding the two of them. And Jane would have told him this if he had asked her for a date. Yet for all his cordiality, he hadn't so much as hinted that he was planning to make her such an offer. So perhaps she ought to start limiting the time they spent in conversation in the first place. But somehow, Jane had difficulty doing even that. It wasn't that she disliked her interactions with Mr. Hearst – on the contrary, she found their academic tête-à-têtes fascinating and could easily pass several hours in conversation with the history teacher – it was just that beneath his amiable façade, he was slowly but surely pursuing her, and it was trying even her unrelenting patience to endure his subtle but constant attentions.

Jane considered it a terrible shame that Mr. Hearst liked her that way. Why couldn't he be as sensible in this matter as he was in many others? Whereas he was a handsome widower with prospects, she was a college-educated, spinster librarian in her thirties who had never been married (and, as most people in River City believed, she'd never even been courted); surely Mr. Hearst could see they were not a suitable match. And they could be such good friends, if he would only stop attempting to court her! He was a considerate, thoughtful and intelligent fellow; a wonderful conversationalist with the most mesmerizing deep brown eyes that gleamed and flashed when he was fervently arguing his point of view, even as his voice remained deceptively level. This was a man who got quieter rather than louder when he was angry; a man who expressed himself eloquently while retaining firm and enviable control of his temper. James Robert Hearst radiated both passion and refinement, his demeanor a pleasant and thought-provoking conundrum… and now Jane had to stop thinking like this, because her stomach was flip-flopping and her heart was fluttering, and she had to be completely composed when she walked through the double doors of Madison Public Library and beheld the history teacher sitting at his usual table in the corner, watching her quietly but steadily as she went about her business…

However, to the assistant librarian's shock, Mr. Hearst was nowhere to be seen today. Nor did he come to the library at any time during the course of the afternoon. Jane should have been relieved by this odd absence, but to her astonishment, she felt both concerned and irritated. Why hadn't he come? He ought to have dropped by for at least an hour – she expected him to after Miss Marian had informed her that Mr. Hearst was at the library earlier and gave her his kind regards before leaving – but his table remained maddeningly empty for the rest of the day. When the last patron left for the evening and the ladies went about the building setting things to rights, Jane did not dare remark even casually to Miss Marian on the history teacher's nonappearance, because the librarian had been regarding her with a suspiciously pensive expression ever since she'd passed along his greetings. Instead, the assistant librarian smiled blithely at her friend and employer and bade her a cheerful good evening. As Jane then proceeded to walk alone to her boarding house – which was run by a sweet and unassuming elderly lady who was nothing at all like her strict German proprietress of yore – she staunchly refused to brood any further on Mr. Hearst's whereabouts. Surely, the indefatigable history teacher would return to pester her with his attentions tomorrow!

But Mr. Hearst did not come to the library the next day, or the day after that. At first, Jane was troubled for legitimate reasons that would cause anyone to worry – what if something horrible had happened to him? – and found herself paying closer attention to the gossip mill than she ever had before. While she was relieved to learn that the history teacher was still alive and well, she was startled to discover that the River City-ziens were just as baffled as she was by his avoidance of Madison Public Library. But regular and sporadic patrons alike continued to leave Mr. Hearst's table empty, even after a third, fourth and then fifth day passed, and April turned into May without so much as a single visit from the man.

Jane tried to accept the history teacher's newfound forbearance as a right and proper matter of course, but to her chagrin, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Had it really been nine months since Mr. Hearst had come to River City? Try as she might, the assistant librarian could not recall the first time he'd stepped foot in Madison Public Library – nothing remarkable or noteworthy occurred on that occasion, unlike during her first meeting with William, a day she would fondly cherish for the rest of her life – but she had only been vaguely aware of and not particularly interested in the history teacher's presence for at least a week or two before he struck up a conversation with her.

It began perfectly innocently: Jane was reshelving books in the modern languages section when she was abruptly but politely interrupted by the approach of a man who looked to be around her age but whose name she did not know. But her unfamiliarity was soon remedied; after introducing himself, Mr. Hearst explained that as the new history teacher, he was attempting to ascertain the extent of the library's collections, and he was having a bit of difficulty when it came to the ancient world. Ancient history was his specialty, and though he was unfailingly courteous in his inquiry, he was clearly flummoxed as to why the volumes for this particular subject were so spread out, instead of housed together in one section.

Even as Jane's curiosity was piqued – it wasn't often Madison Public Library received patrons who were scholars of the ancient world – she felt little more than polite interest. Admittedly, Mr. Hearst was a fine-looking man; his face was handsome and clean-shaven, his dark chestnut locks were rakishly parted to the side and combed into a slick wave along the line of his forehead, and his suit was modest but well-tailored to his lean frame. However, while his appearance was pleasing, there was nothing uncommon or striking about it; Mr. Hearst was handsome in a bland and undistinguished way, much like Dr. Strange had been. Likewise, his quietly affable demeanor further contributed to Jane's initial impressions that he was an agreeable but unremarkable fellow, congenial and intelligent, but ultimately, forgettable.

Still, the assistant librarian was nothing if not thorough in her duties; not only did she cheerfully and patiently explain to Mr. Hearst the rationale behind the dispersion of the ancient history section, she also took him around the library and showed him each and every aisle he could expect to find volumes on or relating to the subject. To her surprise, as well as amusement, Mr. Hearst had quite a bit to say about this arrangement, and was even so bold as to make a suggestion or two regarding consolidation of the collections. Yet Jane was not miffed by his critiques; on the contrary, she found herself relishing the opportunity for civil but spirited debate, and she began to appreciate that the unassuming history teacher had a far keener mind than she'd originally suspected. By the time she and Mr. Hearst reached the ancient languages aisle, they were deep in conversation and, even though Jane had given him the entire tour, they remained where they were and continued talking quite enthusiastically – a little too enthusiastically as it turned out, for the library's patrons eventually issued them a collective, "Ssh!"

At that, the assistant librarian and history teacher quickly fell silent and shared a guilty but conspiratorial look. Strangely, Jane felt her cheeks crimson – especially when Mr. Hearst continued to smile sheepishly at her.

Before the pause could become too awkward, Jane briskly offered him her hand. "Forgive me for being remiss in my manners; I don't think I properly introduced myself: I'm Jane Edna Peabody." She had been so involved in their discussion that somehow, she had overlooked this crucial nicety!

At her confidently forthright gesture, the self-consciousness faded from the history teacher's expression. "I'm James Robert Hearst – Jim to my friends." He took her hand.

Jane immediately felt a familiar, alarming tingle run through her body at his touch. But perhaps this only happened because at the same time as they were shaking hands, their eyes fully met for the first time. And Jane was startled to discover that despite the history teacher's benign appearance, his gaze indicated that he was a man of passionate intensity and profundity; she was staggered by the depth of feeling in those dark brown eyes. She shivered; it wasn't fitting that a fellow who seemed so commonplace on the surface should have eyes that made a woman's heart quicken and stomach flutter in a way it hadn't for over a decade. Nor was it fair that his hand should be so delightfully warm and smooth as it gently but steadily clasped hers; even after their handshake concluded, neither seemed inclined to let go. And neither of them was smiling any longer; Jane's heart raced even faster when she observed that Mr. Hearst's expression displayed the same sense of stunned awe she felt radiating from her own countenance.

Fortunately, the history teacher finally lowered his gaze and demurred in a gentlemanly fashion, "Of course, I'm so new to town that I wouldn't expect anyone to call me by my old Gloriosa nickname." But then he looked up at her again, and Jane's heart, which was just beginning to slow into a more sedate pace, resumed its frenzied palpitations – especially when Mr. Hearst added with a small smile and meaningful gleam in his eyes, "At least – I wouldn't expect anyone to, yet."

All Jane could do was gape at him; unwillingly, she felt the familiar appellation rising to the tip of her tongue and could not open her mouth lest she betray herself. Because not only did she suddenly long to call him Jim, she wanted to whisper it softly into his ear, as the sweetest of endearments. In return, she imagined him calling her Jane in a heated, intimate voice as he buried his face in her curls and traced his mouth along the lines of her neck…

Jane yanked her hand out of Mr. Hearst's. "Most people call me Miss Peabody," she replied rather stiffly. This wasn't strictly true, of course, but she mustn't encourage further intimacy. It was far too dangerous for her to demonstrate anything more than the courteous but aloof façade she displayed to any man, even if he was one of her most avid and engaging library patrons.

"Yes, I've found River City-ziens are rather reserved," the history teacher concurred, sounding a bit wistful.

Jane's heart constricted at that, and her expression softened; clearly, Jim Hearst was a lonelier soul than his placid smile and affable nonchalance let on. "Indeed they can be, but I'm sure you'll eventually find that even though the River City-ziens are reserved on the surface, they're wonderfully warm and welcoming, once you get to know them." She paused. "I was once a newcomer, much like you."

To her relief, Mr. Hearst perked up noticeably at her words. "Were you indeed?" he said with real interest. "I'd love to hear more about River City from another outsider's point of view."

Though Jane couldn't help giving him a genuine smile in return, she knew it was unwise to be led into further conversation – at least for the time being. So she reverted to her previous detachment. "Well… that was a very long time ago. I've been a River City-zien for over ten years now. So I don't know how fresh my perspective would be, after having lived here for so long!"

Once again, the history teacher's eyes flashed with disappointment – but then the affable smile was back, turning his expression inscrutable as he nonchalantly demurred, "Yes, another time, perhaps. I still have a lot of work to do on my lesson plan for the upcoming school year, and I really must return to it. But I appreciate your taking the time to show me around the library, and for being so wonderfully tolerant of the impositions of a stranger."

At the mention of time, Jane's gaze wandered to the clock on the wall, and she gasped to see that they had passed over an hour in each other's company. Knocked even further off balance, she found herself blathering, "Oh, it was not at all an imposition! It's my job to provide assistance – after all, it's in my title, assistant librarian. So by all means, if you need any more assistance finding books, you can ask for me at any time. Any time but Sundays and Fridays, that is. Sundays the library is closed, of course, so no one can help you that day. And Friday is my day off, so if you need anything on Fridays you'll have to talk to Mrs. Hill… " Realizing she had gone on for far too long, Jane finally trailed off. Inwardly, she chided herself for babbling such frivolous, simpering inanities; Mr. Hearst was sure to think she was flirting with him, and romantic interest was the exact opposite of what she hoped to convey!

Indeed, the history teacher was now regarding her with the look of a man who was wholly and irrevocably enchanted and, with a subtle but definite gleam in his eye, he replied, "I'll be certain to keep your schedule in mind, Miss Peabody."

It was time to end this conversation immediately, before she made an even bigger fool of herself. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hearst," she said briskly. "Good afternoon." Without waiting for a response, she turned and marched away, her step carefree but her hand and heart still tingling.

After that day, in his unobtrusive but persistent way, Jim Hearst began to pursue her. He did not make any declarations, flirt with her or attempt to kiss her, or even so much as touch her arm or her hand. Jane almost wished the mild-mannered history teacher had done these things; he'd have been a lot easier to rebuff. Instead, Mr. Hearst simply talked to her of intellectual matters in the same spirited but cordial fashion as he had during their first impromptu tête-à-tête. It all seemed so benign that the assistant librarian sometimes wondered if she was mistaken in her hunch that he had developed romantic feelings for her. But every now and then, she'd spy the history teacher surreptitiously watching her with a quiet but keen ardor in his eyes, and Jane was experienced enough to know that a man did not gaze with such intensity of feeling at a woman he considered a mere friend. There was also the indisputable fact that while Mr. Hearst had legitimate, curriculum-related reasons to visit the library often, he never came into the building on her days off, and as the months passed, he increasingly sought out her company to the point where Jane wondered if she ought to broach the tempestuous subject!

Yet for all the history teacher lingered at the library, he seemed just as disinclined to reveal his true intentions as he'd been last August. It was almost as if he was waiting for her to give him some sign that she would welcome more forthright overtures of courtship. But this was something Jane steadfastly refused to do; after their disastrous first meeting, she had been scrupulously careful to avoid even the appearance of attraction, and not given him so much as the smallest inclination that she felt anything more than friendship in return. The assistant librarian steadfastly looked forward to the day when Mr. Hearst's ardor would finally fade, and the two of them could settle comfortably into a platonic companionship of intellectual discourse.

But as patient as the assistant librarian may be, the history teacher was proving even more so. Nine months had gone by, and he still seemed perfectly content to wait her out. Jane's tolerance, however, was fast approaching its limits. When men had pursued her in college, she was just as blithely aloof and they had given up quickly; she never had to maintain her unshakeable reserve for so long. It certainly didn't help matters that Mr. Hearst had the aggravating knack of knowing just how to get under her skin, exciting her mind with his philosophical ruminations and quickening her heart with his expressive eyes. Normally impervious to a man's physical charms – Jim Hearst was exactly the sort of clean-cut fellow she had once dismissed as too insipid and conventional for her tastes – Jane was slowly realizing that when he was near and those keen eyes were trained on her, she couldn't help reflecting he was a tremendously appealing fellow to look at. And the astonishing idea that such a handsome, intelligent and thoughtful man seemed determined to court her, the awkward, disheveled, spinster bluestocking, made her heart flutter crazily in a way it hadn't since William.

Yet Jane dismissed these palpitations as the effects of her own vanity. How could they be anything else? William Randall remained her ideal man, and while Jim Hearst had plenty to recommend himself, he could not be more different than the zoology professor in both looks and temperament. Jane remembered an afternoon in the middle of September when her sharp ears overheard a group of schoolboys scoffing about their new history teacher's docile demeanor, and she was annoyed enough to shush them sternly even though, in all fairness, they really hadn't been chattering loudly enough to merit such scolding. When the teenagers later sauntered out of the library with smug grins – they had not completed the reading assignment the assistant librarian knew was due the following morning – Jane privately wondered, with an unreasonably acute sense of disappointment, if Mr. Hearst possessed the gumption to maintain order in his classroom. No youth, no matter how impudent, would have dared to pull such a stunt with William!

But she need not have worried. The very next afternoon, Mr. Hearst arrived at the library with the group of schoolboys, who were now sporting thoroughly chastened expressions. As they sullenly but diligently copied each and every word of the twenty-page chapter on Mesopotamia they'd neglected to read the day before, the history teacher presided over the proceedings with the same good-natured smile he always wore – though he was quick to shoot a sharp glare at any boy who dared slacken the pace of his writing. Mr. Hearst may not have shouted at or whipped the rowdier teenagers in his care, but he was a rigorous teacher who was quick to correct insolence and sloth whenever it arose.

Regrettably, these were not the last students to learn the unpleasant consequences of failing to complete their homework in on time, but Jane was ridiculously and thoroughly delighted to learn that despite his unassuming manner, Mr. Hearst was anything but timid. His placid and affable exterior masked a firm and principled soul; he was a man who expected much of himself and his students, demanding that they always strive toward their fullest potential. While others might have been mildly surprised at this seemingly incongruous sentiment held by such a soft-spoken fellow, Jane thought it perfectly fitting when she later learned that the history teacher's personal motto was "excelsior." An admirable phrase for an admirable man – any woman in River City would have been flattered to receive the attentions of such a fine fellow!

If Jane had never been in love before, or even still in her twenties, she would have warmly welcomed Mr. Hearst's overtures. However, being older and wiser, the assistant librarian was not about to let another man into her life – despite the protests of her traitorous heart and her ever-increasing weariness at having to play the oblivious naïf. After her devastating experience with William, she was determined never to be a heartbroken "Jane Eyre" again.

Recognizing the dangers her sheltered upbringing had unwittingly led her into, Jane had read every book she could get her hands on in college, becoming an avid student of human nature and making it a point to observe and understand the behavior of people at every opportunity. Jane also refused to get too friendly with any young man, though she did meet a few fellows in college who demonstrated some interest in pursuing her. While she was not unfriendly and regarded her masculine peers with blithe smiles when engaging in conversation with them, she took great care to never make any remarks that could be construed as flirtations. Even if she had felt the faint glimmers of reciprocation a time or two, what did it matter? Jane was not the pink-cheeked, blonde-ringleted, perpetually giggling type the fellows ultimately favored, even if a few of them regarded her with a gleam of attentiveness before latching on to prettier and far more coquettish girls. No college youth had ever seriously considered conversing with plain Jane Peabody as more than the fleeting amusement of an hour or an afternoon and, even at the height of their half-hearted pursuits, no man had ever looked at her with half as much feeling as William did. William had gazed at her the same way Jane often observed Professor Hill looking at his wife – with a mingled expression of warmth, affection and longing.

At least, no man had ever looked at her that way until Jim Hearst.

But again, what did it matter? Mr. Hearst had been conspicuously absent from the library for nearly a week. At long last, even the tenacious history teacher had grown weary of getting absolutely nowhere with her, and had most likely decided to turn his attentions to a more willing woman on this beautiful, blooming May afternoon – the loveliest and most romantic time of year. Jane should have felt relieved that her ploy of deft evasion mingled with cheerful obfuscation had once again put off a potential suitor, but perversely, she discovered she was both disappointed and distraught that Jim Hearst had given up on her.

XXX

When Mr. Hearst finally did come back to the library – a full eight days after his last visit – Jane promptly muzzled the foolish grin that lit up her countenance the moment the history teacher walked in through the large double doors. However, she could not stifle the excited fluttering of her heart, which was urging her to go right over and cordially offer her usual assistance with the collections – especially when Mr. Hearst nodded a greeting at her with that wonderful, amiable smile of his. But because the assistant librarian had never been so forward, she stifled this inclination as well. There was no need for her to be overeager – surely, the history teacher would seek her out for a long chat at some point, as he always did. She should wait for him to get settled, at the very least!

When Mr. Hearst did indeed take a seat at his table in the corner, Jane was vastly relieved at the resumption of their usual routine. Normally upon arrival, the history teacher would work quietly for a half hour. Then he would stand up, stretch, and approach Jane with questions. More often than not, this would lead to the two of them spending the next several hours in conversation.

But today, the history teacher remained thoroughly engaged in his labors, and did not seem inclined to take a break any time soon. A solid hour passed, and then another, without him so much as glancing in the assistant librarian's direction. Even when Jane conspicuously busied herself with reshelving books in his area in a cunning effort to draw him out, he did not waver in his concentration on the task before him. Refusing to give up so easily, Jane worked as slowly as she possibly could, hoping that the temptation of her presence would encourage Mr. Hearst to at least look at her. But eventually, the assistant librarian had put every last book away and, as her endeavors had borne no fruit whatsoever, she had little choice but to return to the main desk.

Jane tried to take comfort in the fact that Miss Marian was also working this morning; if she could not talk to Mr. Hearst, she could at least converse with her dearest friend. The librarian was presently setting up a new book display nearby – just the distraction Jane needed to take her mind off the vexingly aloof history teacher. So she hastened over to help. However, Jane must have looked a bit too crestfallen, because the librarian immediately gave her a concerned, inquisitive look upon her approach. At that, Jane quickly perked up her deflated countenance with a bright smile that had no real cheer behind it. Fortunately, it proved convincing enough; Miss Marian gave her a sunny smile in return, and the two women finished setting up the display with companionable ease. Unfortunately, Jane could not keep herself from surreptitiously sneaking glances at Mr. Hearst the entire time – and was thoroughly irritated to see he was still wholly buried in his work. Exasperating fellow! Must he be so conscientious?

After they had completed the display, the librarian and assistant librarian returned to the front desk and began tallying up the new entries required for the card catalog. Once matters were settled, Jane retrieved a stack of blank index cards and moved over to the typewriter. After informing her that she would be in the archives for a little while, Miss Marian turned toward the spiral staircase.

It was at that moment Mr. Hearst finally stood up from his seat and walked toward Jane. Their eyes met across the room and the assistant librarian smiled – and this time, her delight was genuine. She briefly considered rolling her eyes in good-natured annoyance as the history teacher approached – here he came to pester her for the next several hours, as usual! – but decided such a gesture would be too discourteous, even in jest. Instead, she arranged her features into an expression of pleasant but slightly disinterested nonchalance, regarding him exactly the same way she would any other patron who sought her out.

But to Jane's absolute shock, Mr. Hearst merely gave her a polite nod before veering toward Miss Marian. After the two exchanged genial greetings, the history teacher asked if she could show him where to find a book on Norse runes.

Jane's mouth fell open. What was Mr. Hearst thinking, asking Miss Marian to retrieve a book that was in the most out-of-the-way corner of the library? While the history teacher didn't seem to have any romantic designs on the librarian – his demeanor and tone of voice were perfectly benign as he made this inquiry – Jane didn't think it was at all appropriate for an unattached widower to be requesting such assistance from Miss Marian, who everyone knew was very happily married and a mother of three, besides. Mr. Hearst should have come to her with such dicey questions!

To Jane's relief, Miss Marian did not offer to escort the history teacher to the ancient languages section. She merely told him the aisle such books were located in and then referred him to Jane, who she was certain would have been more than happy to look up the exact location for him. Even as Jane felt a flush of elated triumph at the knowledge that Mr. Hearst couldn't avoid seeking her assistance indefinitely, she frowned to see the suspicious twinkle in the librarian's eyes as she spoke. She never would have figured that her discreet and tactful Miss Marian was secretly the matchmaking type!

But then again, perhaps Jane was jumping to unwarranted conclusions; considering the matter from a purely logical standpoint, the assistant librarian was the best person to help Mr. Hearst in this instance, as she was presently working with the card catalog, whereas Miss Marian was on her way to the archives. So Jane quelled her displeasure, and waited for the history teacher to come over to the front desk.

However, although Mr. Hearst thanked Miss Marian for the suggestion and glanced over at Jane with a smile, he informed the two ladies that after nine months as a regular patron of Madison Public Library, it was high time he started learning his way around the sections on his own. And then, without further ado, he turned away from them both.

Once again, Jane's mouth dropped open in astonishment. As she watched Mr. Hearst walk up the spiral staircase, her stomach gave an unsettling lurch and tied itself into terrible knots. Had she been mistaken about Mr. Hearst's feelings the entire time? Perhaps he never had romantic intentions, after all…

Miss Marian should also have been heading upstairs, herself, as she had indicated she was planning to work in the archives for a little while. Instead, she was regarding her assistant with a vaguely worried look. "Are you feeling quite well, Jane?"

But Jane barely heard the words. Because no sooner than Mr. Hearst had reached the second floor, she was rushing up the spiral staircase after him. Yet it wasn't until they had both rounded the corner to the ancient languages aisle and were safely hidden from prying eyes that the assistant librarian called out to him in a brisk whisper,

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hearst!"

The history teacher, who was apparently so focused on scanning book titles that he hadn't heard her approach, jumped a little. But when he turned to face Jane, he regarded her with the same bland, affable smile as always. "Ah – Miss Peabody. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Suddenly, Jane felt tremendously awkward. What on earth had she been thinking, trailing after Mr. Hearst like an eager puppy? She should have remained in her spot at the front desk and waited for him to come to her – if he were so inclined. But it was too late to back down now. She had initiated contact and now the history teacher was looking expectantly at her; she had to say something.

"Oh – well – " the assistant librarian stammered, fidgeting and trying as best she could to ignore the sudden, intense heat radiating from her cheeks while she attempted to come up with a respectable pretext for her unsolicited interruption. "Sometimes books go missing, so I thought you might require my assistance, after all. Norse runes are an obscure subject and outside the interest of most River City-ziens – we only have one such book in our entire collection." As she spoke, her fingers started to tremble too noticeably for comfort, so she clasped her hands tightly behind her back as she continued, "And since no one ever reads it, it would be all too easy for its disappearance to go unnoticed for weeks or even months. I'd hate for you to waste your valuable time searching fruitlessly, so I thought I'd save you the trouble of having to come all the way back down to the front desk if you did end up needing my help locating the volume."

For a moment, Mr. Hearst simply stared at Jane with an expression that was both amazed and bewildered, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. Having run out of things to say, Jane squeezed her hands even tighter together and prayed that the history teacher would say something – anything! Even a teasing remark would be better than this awful, appraising silence.

"Well, that's awfully kind of you," he finally said. "But it appears the book I'm looking for is right here – " He reached over and plucked Norse Runes off the shelf.

"So it is," Jane acknowledged. While she was grateful that Mr. Hearst was too much of a gentleman to call attention to her simpering foolishness even in jest, she knew he was also too clever not to notice her unusual behavior. Though the assistant librarian was notorious for being overly helpful when it came to locating reading materials for library patrons, this offer of assistance was too suspiciously eager, even for her. And it did not help matters that Jane couldn't stop herself from looking keenly into Mr. Hearst's eyes, searching for even the slightest indication of warmth or interest. But to her disappointment, all she found was a strange, guarded glumness in the history teacher's gaze, an emotion that only seemed to deepen as she continued to stare at him – until he finally looked away.

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Peabody," he said, his tone surprisingly nonchalant. "If I may, I would like to check this book out straightaway."

Now it was Jane's turn to gape. Normally, this would have been Mr. Hearst's cue to ask her for another book, or segue into one of their hours-long conversations. The history teacher always took advantage of the opportunity when they were ensconced in a quiet corner, and the ancient languages aisle would have been perfect for just such a tête-à-tête. He never asked to check volumes out this early in the afternoon!

"May I help you find anything else? Surely, you must have a long list of books," Jane prompted in as cheerful a voice as she could muster, not about to let him off the hook.

Now she really had gone too far. Mr. Hearst's eyes snapped back to hers, and Jane's heart fluttered nervously as she realized that in all likelihood, she had been tricked, neatly and completely. The history teacher's aloofness was not an indication of disinterest, it was a ploy to draw her out and get her to reveal her true feelings for him (But what, precisely, have you revealed? her mind insisted. You aren't interested in forming a romantic attachment with Jim Hearst, or any other man!). What else could explain his behavior?

But to Jane's shock, Mr. Hearst's expression was not that of a man who had finally triumphed in getting his object of desire to reciprocate flirtation. Instead, he looked intensely pained and perhaps even downright tortured, as if he was being pushed to the very limits of his endurance. The fury that had been welling up in the pit of her stomach completely evaporated, and Jane was left with a sinking feeling of a different kind.

Imagine you are a man who has fallen in love, a wiser voice whispered. Imagine that the woman of your affections has politely but repeatedly rebuffed even your subtlest romantic overtures over the course of nine whole months. And then, when you sensibly stopped trying to court her, she attempted to provoke you into continued pursuit not because she loved you in return, but because she was lonely and selfishly enjoyed the way your attentions puffed up her vanity. What man would not be tortured by such callous behavior?

Jane guiltily averted her eyes from Mr. Hearst's gaze, which had grown pensive and appraising once more. "Of course, I'm sure you know best how many books you actually need," she amended apologetically. "I'd be happy to check out Norse Runes for you immediately."

"Thank you," he said in a quiet voice. Jane couldn't bring herself to look at the history teacher again, but she could clearly hear the disappointment in his tone. A lump came into her throat, and she swallowed vigorously as she escorted Mr. Hearst to the front desk. Fortunately, once they were downstairs and she had stamped the history teacher's book, they both seemed to have recovered their composure, and bade each other good afternoon as casually and courteously as they had always parted before.

But as Jane sadly watched Mr. Hearst exit the library without so much as a backward glance, she knew that his farewell had an element of finality to it that wasn't present previously. She had not just divested herself of a romantic suitor, but she had also lost a friend. Just as the history teacher had relinquished his romantic dreams, the assistant librarian was going to have to give up her hopes of the two of them settling into a benign and platonic companionship between intellectual equals.

Bereft of her masculine companion, Jane picked up an armload of books from the return cart and headed to the fiction section. Having gotten used to allotting a good portion of her afternoon to conversation, the assistant librarian was now going to have to find new ways to occupy the long hours that stretched out before her. As Jane reshelved the volumes, once again working as slowly as she could so she could fill as much time as possible, she tried to console herself by remembering William's heated glances. But somehow, she couldn't conjure up her lover's face. All she could think of was the ardent way Jim Hearst looked at her – or used to look at her. She'd always fancied she felt William hovering nearby, watching her fondly. And while Jane still believed he would always be with her, his presence no longer seemed so intense or immediate. Those two adjectives now seemed to apply solely to the man she couldn't stop thinking about, even though it seemed he was no longer inclined to court her.

She wondered what William would have to say about her rebuffing Mr. Hearst's attentions. After all, he had urged her to court other men. But she'd refused. None of the men she crossed paths with after William had ever stirred anything in her heart more than casual regard – or the thrill of vanity that arose from the knowledge of being desired, if only for a brief moment. And after experiencing such deep, passionate love with a Mr. Rochester, Jane wasn't about to settle for a marriage of placid convenience with a St. John – no matter how eligible a bachelor he may be.

But Jim Hearst was proving to be more than a mere St. John. The history teacher made her remember all those wistful, romantic hopes she used to cherish about getting married. But it was ridiculous for her to be feeling these girlish stirrings at all! She was solidly in her thirties and she hadn't felt such pangs for over a decade – shouldn't she be immune to such frivolous infatuations by now? Despite Jane's inward protestations that no man but William Randall had ever caused deep, romantic stirrings, she could no longer deny that her capricious heart was indeed fluttering for Jim Hearst.

"What am I to do?" the assistant librarian whispered, hoping for some answer to suddenly present itself, wishing for some small sign that the man she had loved was still watching. Just a glimmer of his presence, no matter how vague, was all she required. But nothing changed; the library remained maddeningly quiet and the atmosphere undisturbed. Dreary silence was all there was. Impatiently, Jane grabbed Jane Eyre off the shelf and opened it at random:

The month of courtship had wasted: its very last hours were being numbered. There was no putting off the day that advanced—the bridal day; and all preparations for its arrival were complete.

Jane shivered at the inexorable, foreboding tone of this sentence – the words seemed an ominous presentiment of what was to come for her, despite everything she had done to prevent getting ensnared in romantic entanglements. Perhaps this was her sign from William or Providence… or both.

Thankfully, Jane's rational mind quickly reasserted itself, and she tutted at this uncalled-for upwelling of superstition. What was she thinking in her silly divination attempt? Would she seek a gypsy fortuneteller next?

Perhaps, at long last, it was time to have a talk with Miss Marian.

XXX

After an hour's sojourn in the archives, Marian returned to the front desk to find her assistant dutifully typing up the card catalog entries they'd discussed after setting up the new book display. However, although Jane worked as diligently as ever, her demeanor was anything but serene; her shoulders were slightly slumped and her fingers thumped on the keys a bit heavier than usual. And when Jane raised her head to greet the librarian with her usual bright rictus, there was a distinctly dejected look in her gaze that indicated for her, life had lost a good deal of its zest.

Recalling the scene she had witnessed earlier, Marian was certain she could guess the nature of her friend's dismay. But even if she hadn't been present to see Jane's impulsive dash after Mr. Hearst, she would have immediately recognized the disappointment and heartbreak in the younger woman's subdued expression for exactly what it was. Though the librarian remained supremely content with the wonderful way her own affairs had eventually turned out, she would never forget the stultifying sense of bleak hopelessness she felt before Harold Hill came to River City and shattered the staunch defenses she had erected around her heart. The music professor's audacious advances had been an uncomfortable and infuriating intrusion, but something that Marian had desperately needed in order to build the full and happy life she longed to achieve.

So as much as the librarian loathed interfering a second time in this delicate situation, things had progressed to the point where her conscience would no longer allow her to remain silent. Even if there was nothing she could do or say or to help ease her dearest friend's struggle with this burden, she was duty-bound to offer her assistance. Although Marian knew all too well that Jane was prone to withdrawing into the same aloof and impenetrable reserve as she was, and would likely rebuff her attempts to pry, she invited her to dinner that very evening.

However, to the librarian's astonishment, her assistant readily accepted this invitation. In fact, Jane seemed downright pleased to do so, as if she had been hoping for just such an opportunity. She even recovered a little of her old spirit over the course of the next few hours, chattering merrily to Marian as the two of them closed the library for the evening and headed over to the charming Victorian.

Harold, of course, greeted his wife's dear friend with his usual charming warmth. Penny and Elly were likewise thrilled to see their beloved "Aunt" Jane, and insisted that she sit between them at the dining room table. Normally, Marian would not have allowed her outspoken daughters to impose so brazenly regarding the seating arrangements, but their earnest display of affection had a wonderful effect on the assistant librarian; for the first time that evening, her smile genuinely reached her eyes as she replied that she would be pleased to do as they wished. And when the girls clamored for a round of Parcheesi in the parlor after the meal was concluded, Marian almost relented to that as well. She could find plenty of time for the awkward conversation at a later date…

But to the librarian's surprise, Harold quickly intervened, giving the girls a dime apiece and telling them it would be an awful shame to waste such a nice spring evening indoors. Faced with the sudden prospect of a jaunt to the Candy Kitchen and being of an age where they preferred to partake of such activities without their parents, Penny and Elly quickly skedaddled, before their mother could remind them that they needed to wash and dry the dinner dishes, as per their usual chores.

Yet Marian did not scold her husband for encouraging this evasion of responsibility; instead, she gave him a grateful smile. Though she did not relish the task before her, it was best not to procrastinate. With a knowing wink, Harold retreated to the music room and left the ladies to their business. But in between washing the dishes and attending to her infant son's nighttime ablutions, Marian was far too engrossed in her domestic responsibilities to broach the subject just yet, or even dwell on her steadily growing nervousness about the impending discussion. As ever, Jane assisted the librarian with admirable speed and efficiency, and the cleanup was accomplished in hardly any time at all. After the kitchen and dining room were set to rights, Marian and Jane went outside to sit on the front porch, a freshly changed and happily burbling baby Robert in tow.

"Of all the nights for him not to go down easily," Marian sighed as she placed her son in his bassinet and rocked it gently with her foot. When she had laid Robert in his crib and attempted to tiptoe out of the room, he whined and fussed and staunchly refused to settle. Exasperated at this latest disruption, and wondering if this was Providence's way of trying to thwart her intended confrontation, the librarian finally decided to take her son downstairs with them.

"It's all right – I don't mind him being out here with us," Jane said cheerfully. "He's a very sweet baby and a delight to have nearby."

Marian smiled in agreement with her friend's assessment – especially as Robert was already drifting off to sleep. Even at his most trying, her little angel was not nearly as demanding as the twins had been at that age. The librarian generally found it fortuitous to have been blessed with such an accommodating infant this time around, but tonight she was a little less enthusiastic than usual about the ease with which Robert dozed off in his bassinet. Because now, at long last, there was absolutely nothing keeping her from launching into the delicate discussion she'd been both planning and dreading for the last several hours.

But Marian had barely opened her mouth when Jane turned to her with a grave expression and said, "I need your advice, Miss Marian."

The librarian, who had been planning to segue into the subject through subtle and roundabout conversation, was knocked completely off balance by her friend's unexpected forthrightness. As a result, the careful phrases she had been planning to open with flew right out of her head, and she gaped at the younger woman in bewilderment. "You do?"

Jane began to tremble. "Yes… and I wish I had come to you before things had gotten so out of hand."

Quelling her sense of alarm as best she could, lest she frighten her dear friend into silence, Marian reached out and clasped Jane's hands in a soothing grip. "What happened?"

"Mr. Hearst has fallen in love with me," Jane said miserably.

Once again, the librarian had to stifle her natural response – but this time, it was the urge to burst into exasperated laughter. Jane had opened the conversation with such an ominous tone that Marian had been expecting to hear far worse developments. Apparently, the two of them had differing ideas regarding what constituted a crisis worthy of such distress! Her friend may not have been the dangerously naïve young woman she once was, but there were times her maidenly guile truly beggared belief. Was it really possible that all these long months, she had not suspected Mr. Hearst's feelings for her? Deciding Jane was not yet ready for her wholly candid assessment of the situation just yet, Marian merely observed, "I have noticed that he seeks out your company often – perhaps a little too often, even for a history teacher and avid library patron."

"Yes – all of River City has noticed how stuck on me Jim Hearst is, and they've been having a field day with it," Jane affirmed in disgust. "Horrid old gossips with nothing else better to occupy their time!"

Marian raised an eyebrow – it was not at all like her easygoing friend to lash out with such acrimony at River City's rumor mill. "That may be true," she sympathized, "but the only thing you can do is ignore them. Eventually, they'll lose interest and move on to something else."

"Not for a very long time," Jane said, her expression bleak. "Not after the way I ran up the spiral staircase after Mr. Hearst earlier today. Oh, why in heaven's name did I do such a silly thing?" she castigated herself aloud. "After months of scrupulous behavior that even the most scandal-minded person would be hard-pressed to construe as flirting, I've gone and made it look like I'm just as stuck on him, in return!" She looked beseechingly at the librarian. "Please, Miss Marian, isn't there anything I can do or even say to get myself out of this mess?"

Marian repressed a sigh – apparently, she was fated to interfere directly in this affair. She would have preferred advising her distraught friend to simply continue ignoring the idle chatter until it finally faded away, but that would be taking the easy way out. The librarian knew Jane's character well enough to recognize that this normally unflappable woman was so flustered by all the hearsay not because it was false or fabricated, but because there was an uncomfortable truth in it that she did not wish to acknowledge.

But acknowledge it she must, or she would never make any real progress in moving past her malaise. Looking steadily at her friend, Marian asked, "Jane, have you developed feelings for Mr. Hearst?"

"I think I'm well on my way to falling in love with him," Jane confessed in a hushed voice, sounding dangerously close to tears. "But I don't want to fall in love again – I couldn't survive another broken heart. Yet as much as I don't want to get so entangled, I can't seem to help encouraging Mr. Hearst's attentions, all the same." Once again, she looked pleadingly at her mentor. "So how do I arrest these feelings in their tracks, before I make an even bigger fool of myself?"

"I'm afraid there's no putting the water back, once the dam has burst," Marian said practically, even as she gave her friend's hands a sympathetic squeeze. "But why is it such a terrible thing that you return Mr. Hearst's feelings? There's nothing shameful or imprudent in encouraging the attentions of a man who is unattached, near your age, and shares several common interests! If you both like each other and there's no moral or legal impediment to courtship, what's keeping you from accepting his overtures?"

"A woman of my age and position has no business engaging in frivolity," Jane sniffed. "Mr. Hearst may wish to court, but that doesn't mean he's inclined to marry, and I refuse to engage in untoward activities that would jeopardize my standing as Madison Public Library's assistant librarian." She sighed angrily. "Before Jim Hearst came along, I was perfectly comfortable and content in the life I had built for myself as an independent woman. Of all the places in the world, why did he have to choose River City?"

This time, Marian did not bother to hide her smile – how often had she once expressed that exact same sentiment about Harold Hill? As Jane started to cry in earnest, she pulled her friend into a hug. "Dearest Jane, allowing yourself to be courted by a man is not going harm your reputation or put your job in danger. For one, I'm confident your behavior will be as irreproachable in courtship as it is in any other arena." She smoothed a few errant curls from her friend's flushed cheek. "Besides, times are changing for women. So even if you do get married someday, that doesn't necessarily mean you'll have to give up your position as our assistant librarian. If the trustees could accept my marriage all those years ago, they could certainly accommodate yours."

Jane sniffed again, and hiccoughed. "Even if everything you say is true, it doesn't matter anymore," she said, her tears still flowing freely. "Jim Hearst is no longer interested in pursuing me – not even as a friend!"

"Indeed?" Marian prompted gently. But she hardly needed to say anything, as Jane lost no time in sobbing out the story of what transpired between the two of them that afternoon. Apparently, Mr. Hearst was so wounded by her polite but constant rejection of even his subtlest advances that he decided to put an end to their fraternization entirely – even to the point where he avoided seeking her assistance with navigating the collections. "Not only did Jim Hearst spurn my attempts at friendship, he couldn't even bear to approach me simply as a library patron," Jane wept, disconsolate. "He despises me now."

Marian had indeed noticed that Mr. Hearst went out of his way to avoid crossing paths with her assistant today. However, to her more experienced perspective, this did not indicate loathing on his part, but rather the actions of a man who was trying to protect himself from the sting of unrequited love as best he could. "I don't think that's the case at all," the librarian carefully countered. "I do think, however, that it's no longer possible for the two of you to go on as platonic companions."

Jane twitched irritably in the librarian's embrace, but did not reply.

Marian kissed her on the forehead. "You wanted my advice, Jane, so here it is: You're going to have to make a difficult decision. Would you rather court Mr. Hearst, accepting both the risk and reward that romance entails, or would you rather not have him in your life at all?"

Jane twitched again, and pulled herself out of the librarian's hug. "I'd rather have him in my life – but as my friend." Tugging a handkerchief from her pocket, she crossly dabbed at the corners of her still-leaking eyes. "Why can't he be sensible about this, and accept that friendship is all I can give him?"

Recalling her previous conversation with Mr. Hearst, in which he revealed the true depth of his longing, Marian could understand the history teacher's sense of privation. But how could she possibly convey this truth to Jane, who could not or perhaps refused to understand that sometimes, feelings cut too deep for such outcomes? There was only one thing the librarian could say that might have the desired effect, but as it also had the potential to backfire and compound her friend's pain, she had been trying to avoid going down that road. But Jane was being so determinedly obtuse that she had run out of gentler options. Giving the younger woman a shrewd look, Marian softly asked, "Could you and William have just remained friends?"

Jane's head snapped up and she glared at Marian, a myriad of emotions rushing through her wide gray eyes like storm clouds billowing up over the plains – outrage, offense, dismay, disbelief, confusion, and hurt threatened to burst into a full-fledged tempest. Even as Marian quaked inside and her breath hitched in her throat at this rapid torrent of feeling, she forced herself to meet her affronted friend's gaze with the iron-willed poise that had never failed her yet, steadily and inexorably watching as Jane feverishly and furiously struggled to regain her bearings.

It worked. Jane's shoulders slumped, and she sighed as the ferocity in her countenance dissipated. "No," she finally admitted. "And if Jim Hearst's feelings are so strong that he can't settle for friendship alone, I suppose it would be unfair of me to expect it of him."

Pleased – and relieved – that her dear friend not only took the question remarkably well, she also saw the sense in it, Marian continued, "Perhaps you are capable of making a little more room in your heart for Jim Hearst than you think. And," she added, beaming down at the beautiful son she and Harold never expected to have, "if I'm not too old for happy, life-altering surprises, you certainly aren't!"

"I suppose," Jane allowed, though she did not look entirely convinced.

Thinking it best to bring the discussion to a close at this point, Marian turned the conversation to lighter matters. Although Jane made a valiant effort to resume her usual lighthearted demeanor, it was clear she remained preoccupied, and politely took her leave only fifteen minutes later.

As Marian stared pensively down the road, watching her friend depart, she felt a warm pair of arms wrap around her waist, and a soft kiss was dropped on the nape of her neck.

"So my dear little librarian, how is our poor, pining Miss Peabody doing these days?"

Marian laughed, somehow not surprised that her observant husband had picked up on Jane's state of confusion. "She's still not happy about the situation, but at least she's no longer in denial of her own feelings."

Harold chuckled. "Talked some sense into her, did you? Well played, Madam Librarian. I couldn't have done a better job working Cupid's magic on Jane Peabody and Jim Hearst, myself!"

"What?" Marian scoffed. "I only want to maintain order in my library. And now that I've talked to the two of them, I'm going to step back and let things take their natural course, whatever that may be. It was never my intent to play matchmaker!"

"That's a real shame," Harold said teasingly. "Take it from a man who's played matchmaker many times before – you have natural flair for it."

Twisting around to face her husband, Marian tried to swat him, but he pulled her tight against him and kissed her until her giggles faded and she was clinging to him as longingly as he clung to her.

"Robert's fast asleep, and the girls won't be home for at least another hour," Harold said in a husky voice when their mouths finally parted. "So what say we bring our son up to his crib and then go to bed, ourselves? All this talk of love and matchmaking has put me in the mood for a little canoodling… "

Marian arched an eyebrow at her ever-amorous husband. "A little canoodling?"

Harold grinned. "Fine – a long, heated, decadent frenzy of lovemaking that leaves us gasping in tangled sheets, if you insist on my being one hundred percent accurate."

"I do – in both word and deed," Marian said with a sly smile. Capturing his lips in a quick but heated kiss, she extricated herself from her husband's embrace and carefully eased Robert out of his bassinet. Fortunately, he barely twitched at this disturbance. And though he stirred a little more when his parents placed him in his proper bed, he did not wake up.

As Harold eagerly pulled his wife toward their bedroom, covering her neck with delicious kisses all along the way, she couldn't help wondering if he was right on the mark about her instincts for matchmaking. Because Marian suddenly had the premonition that Mr. Hearst was not quite resolved to give up on the woman he loved just yet, and that Jane would someday come to know the same joy she was currently experiencing.

XXX

That night, for the first time she could recall, Jane dreamed about Mr. Hearst. She didn't realize it was a dream, at first; all she knew was that she had rounded the corner of the ancient languages section one quiet afternoon, and came upon the history teacher standing in the middle of the aisle. Somehow, it did not occur to the assistant librarian to pose the question even to herself how he managed to get all the way up here without her seeing him. Nor did it occur to her to wonder why the stack of books she had been carrying had suddenly vanished from her hands. All that mattered was that Jim Hearst had come back to the library, and she beamed at him in sheer delight.

Not only did the history teacher smile warmly at her in return, he marched over, cupped her face in his hands, and moved in for a kiss that left her with no doubt he had changed his mind about ending their association.

"Where have you been?" he teased when their lips finally parted. "I've been waiting for you all afternoon."

Jane blushed as she suddenly remembered that she had indeed planned a rendezvous with him. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Mr. Hearst gave her the yearning look that always made her heart flutter. "It doesn't matter," he said, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You're here now."

His mouth covered hers once more, and she melted into his embrace. An interminable interval passed between them as he gave her one long, sweet kiss after another. Jane's head began to spin, and she clung to her lover to keep herself from swooning. Though he whispered no heated blandishments in her ear, she reveled in what his lips weren't saying: despite her foolishness in not recognizing her true feelings for so long, and despite her being a spinster bluestocking who was long past her prime (if, indeed, she'd ever had a "prime" at all), Jim Hearst loved her and wanted to be with her. For the first time in ages, Jane felt that God was indeed in heaven and all was right with the world…

And then the assistant librarian's alarm went off, abruptly yanking her from sleep. For the first time in her life, Jane picked up the poor and rather undeserving clock and hurled it across the room as hard as she could. Yet it proved to be a sturdy little thing, merely bouncing off the solid oak door of her armoire and clattering to the floor, where it continued to ring shrilly.

Still bleary-eyed and reeling from the disappointment that her lovely reconciliation with Jim Hearst hadn't really happened, Jane stumbled out of bed and crossly hit at the alarm until it sputtered into silence. "Oh, shut up, you stupid thing!"

Though the assistant librarian had made an unusual amount of commotion that morning, there was fortunately no danger of her being scolded for it. In addition to her boarding house being run by an unassuming and unobtrusive little old lady, the other residents were the type of people who tended to mind their own affairs. Not only that, everyone was also quite familiar with Jane's propensity for the occasional, noisy fit of clumsiness. So the only questions she would have to weather at the breakfast table were concerned (and perhaps slightly amused) inquiries as to whether or not she'd managed to injure herself during her latest peccadillo.

That is, if she even bothered to show up for the morning meal at all. As ever, Jane could never stomach food when her heart was troubled. To compound her unhappiness, Miss Marian was not scheduled to work at all, and given that the sun was shining and the weather was warm, Madison Public Library was likely to be a lot emptier than usual. The prospect of a long, lonely day stretched out ahead of her and, in a first for her since she'd come to River City, the assistant librarian dreaded the prospect of going to work. Without even the idle chatter of patrons to distract her, Jane would have plenty of time to reflect that Mr. Hearst did not love her, he refused to remain her friend, and he wasn't going to be coming back to the library anytime soon.

As the assistant librarian plodded inexorably toward her place of employment, she wasn't sure whether she felt worse being lovelorn in Ames or in River City. In Ames, she'd had no friends but William, so even as she keenly wished for a confidante, she'd taken slim comfort in the fact that no one took it upon themselves to stick their nose into her misery. But in River City, Jane had a multitude of friends and acquaintances who gave her sunny smiles as she passed, and while she was grateful to have so many people who cared about her well-being at least superficially, seeking consolation or sympathy from anyone but Miss Marian was out of the question. The dull ache Jane never thought to experience again had settled over her soul, and she found it tremendously difficult to smile cheerfully at all the passerby in return.

Yet there was also something new in her pain this time around. Because her romance with William was doomed before it even began, Jane had merely felt the bleak but resigned despair of a woman who always knew there was no hope of living happily ever after with the man she loved. But losing the wonderful and available Jim Hearst was a much bitterer pill to swallow; the only reason he'd broken off contact with her was because she had slowly but surely driven him away. And if she hadn't been such a blind and stubborn fool, that tender dream embrace she'd shared with him in the ancient languages section could have been in her future.

Still, Jane was nothing if not diligent, and whiled away the hours in various administrative and organizational tasks. So the morning passed more swiftly than she initially thought it would. However, just as she'd predicted, there were only a handful of patrons that day, and by the time two o'clock arrived, the assistant librarian had completely run out of work to do. Time began to weigh far more heavily upon her, and Jane once again felt the history teacher's absence keenly. What on earth had she filled her afternoons with before Mr. Hearst came to town?

Jane briefly toyed with the idea of closing the library early, but as she wasn't sure Miss Marian would approve, she ultimately decided against this course of action. The next best option, which was still rather unprofessional but better than staring at the walls for the next several hours, was to take a book off the shelf and do a little reading, herself. As the assistant librarian had never actually gotten around to perusing Giacomo Casanova's memoirs, which had scandalized and thrilled generations of River City's strait-laced teenage girls, she decided she might as well see what all the fuss was about and, after retrieving the book from its shelf, sat down at a table to read.

Although Jane found herself appreciating the honesty and intelligence of the narrator – she could certainly understand why the book had so many avid readers – she wasn't altogether sure she liked this suave and perhaps too-cunning seducer, when all was said and done. But she didn't regret her selection in the least, as Casanova's memoirs provided a welcome and thought-provoking diversion that made the afternoon fly by.

A half hour before the library was due to close for the evening, Jane roused herself from the volume and assessed her surroundings. Although Madison Public Library had only entertained a small handful of patrons that day, the amount of the books on the return cart was greater than the assistant librarian expected. She hadn't bothered to keep up with the returns at all, thinking it would be best to save herself a task to do that would make the ennui of the remaining hour more bearable. However, Jane was now so engrossed in her reading that she was sorely tempted to leave the books where they were until tomorrow. Unfortunately, she couldn't do that, because Miss Marian was going to be working the following morning, and she would not approve of such disorder left overnight. So it was time to get to it right away, or Jane would be late closing up, and the last thing she wanted was to be cooped up in these stuffy surroundings for any longer than necessary!

With a sigh, the assistant librarian stood up and headed over to the book-return cart, reflecting that at least she would have some company tomorrow. And surely, she would eventually recover her zest for her work, just as she had managed to build herself a full and happy life after losing William.

As Jane loaded the book dumbwaiter and tugged on the rope, one of the library's double doors swung open. The warm, perfumed breeze of a beautiful May evening washed over her. Though the disturbance was an unwelcome one that would no doubt make more work for her at an inopportune time, the assistant librarian couldn't help smiling as she breathed in the fresh air. As soon as she dispatched this patron with all speed and finished reshelving the volumes – who in heaven's name had decided to pay a visit to the library on such a lovely night? – she was going to treat herself to a long, leisurely stroll, and perhaps even a chocolate malted at the Candy Kitchen.

"May I help you?" she inquired, her tone polite but a touch cooler than usual. For good measure, she also made a point of watching the dumbwaiter's ascent to the second floor and then glancing at the clock on the wall before turning toward the entrance.

Jim Hearst stood before her, smiling as affably as ever. "Good evening, Miss Peabody."

Jane's heart flip-flopped – of all the patrons she'd expected to see, he was last on the list. "Mr. Hearst!" she sputtered, rather inelegantly.

Thankfully, the history teacher took her discomfited surprise in stride. "I'm sorry to be a nuisance so near to closing time," he said apologetically, "but I don't have a single book on Egyptian hieroglyphs, and I need one for my class tomorrow."

Jane nodded. "That's easy enough to find," she said brightly – perhaps a little too brightly, but she couldn't help herself. Not only was Mr. Hearst giving her that adorable smile, he looked especially handsome tonight. At first, she couldn't quite put her finger on why that would be so, as the history teacher had always been a well-groomed man. But to her eyes, he looked suspiciously polished and clean-shaven for so late in the day.

Suddenly, Jane realized with a jolt that she had only ever seen Mr. Hearst wear that smart, three-piece tweed suit at church on Sundays. At first, she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that he took so much care with his appearance. While the implications of such painstaking grooming on his part were exhilarating to contemplate, the assistant librarian could not live up to such refinement in her plain, gray-blue flannel ensemble and workaday coiffure, which was of course disheveled by now – she was hardly a scrumptious sight to tempt a potential suitor!

However, if the history teacher took issue at the assistant librarian's less-than-stunning appearance, neither his tone nor his expression indicated it. Seemingly oblivious to the strange tableau they would have presented to outside observers, Mr. Hearst blithely continued to stand there making small talk with her, his demeanor as cordial and chatty as if yesterday had never happened. Swallowing her sense of pique – though she may be overshadowed in dress, she refused to let self-consciousness dull her tongue – Jane more than held up her own end of the conversation. In fact, she was so engrossed in their discussion that she did not realize closing time had come and gone until Mr. Hearst spied Casanova's memoirs still lying on the table, and picked the book up.

"Ah – Giacomo Casanova," he said with a sense of recognition that sounded almost amused.

"As you can probably imagine, it's one of our most popular selections," Jane said with a laugh. "Have you read it?"

"Not recently," Mr. Hearst replied. "Not since I was a college undergraduate, at any rate." His eyes twinkled and he smiled enigmatically, as if at some private jest or recollection.

With another jolt, Jane suddenly remembered everything she'd read about the art of seduction that afternoon. Casanova had subtly and cleverly spun enticing webs around prospective paramours until, overcome with longing, they willingly allowed themselves to be ensnared in his glittering nets. The assistant librarian regarded her would-be suitor with an appraising look; even though Mr. Hearst was familiar with Casanova's writings, was it reasonable to outright conclude he was an adherent of the man's candid but underhanded philosophy when it came to lovemaking? Certainly, Jane could not deny that the history teacher was more than capable of such cunning – while he was mild-mannered enough on the surface, he had demonstrated on more than one occasion the keen and active mind he possessed beneath that genial gaze. Perhaps Mr. Hearst's sudden and prolonged disappearance from the library was not the hapless withdrawal of a lovelorn suitor, as she initially surmised, but the carefully calculated retreat of a seducer attempting to draw out the object of his affections.

If it was indeed the latter, Jane had neatly fallen into his trap. For a split second, she was furious at herself for her shocking lapse of sense. How could she have thought this scheming man a worthy successor to William, who was upright to a fault and honest to the point of bluntness? William would never have played havoc with her feelings as Jim Hearst did – when he pretended not to care, he was trying to protect her. She ought to tell the history teacher off for such devious conniving!

But Jane did not do that. Instead, she abruptly interrupted Mr. Hearst mid-sentence and told him that as it was getting terribly late, she really needed to finish reshelving her books.

"Yes, of course," he said understandingly. As he handed her Casanova's memoirs, the tips of his fingers brushed hers and, even though Jane suspected this gesture was entirely intentional on the history teacher's part, she couldn't deny how much she liked the delightfully woozy effect his touch provoked in her. And when Mr. Hearst followed her up the spiral staircase, she did not rebuff his attempts to resume their usual spirited tête-à-tête. Although Jane once fancied herself impenetrable as stone when it came to romantic overtures, the history teacher could easily be likened to a steady, powerful river – water was the one thing that could alter such inexorable geological barriers. And to make matters worse, her pursuer seemed to sense the weakening of her resolve; tonight, there was an extra intensity in his words and glances, although on the surface he remained as pleasant and polite as ever. But that's exactly the way the game is played, isn't it? she reflected wryly. Maintain an impeccable façade of innocence until one is close enough to strike!

Still, if Mr. Hearst was expecting her to simply fall into his arms after all the grief he'd put her through this past week, he was thoroughly mistaken. While Jane may no longer have possessed the gumption or inclination to deter his advances, she certainly wasn't going to throw herself at him! Not even when he steadily inched closer to her as they traversed the stacks, until he was near enough to wind his arm around her waist as they walked, if he was so inclined.

Though he'd never attempted such a ploy before, Jane was too smart to fall for this trick at her age – even if the history teacher's close proximity was muddling her senses. In the narrow aisles, she could find no pretense to sidle away, nor did she have the grace to attempt such a deft maneuver. So out of an avid and reckless sense of curiosity, the assistant librarian allowed him to move as near to her as he pleased. Perversely, Jane wished she could somehow find a moment to discreetly smooth her mussed hair before the history teacher inevitably made his move. But then again, what did it matter? If the evening ended up going the way she surmised, her tresses would only end up even more disheveled than they already were. For as she'd learned from her past encounters with amour, exchanging kisses with a man made her boisterous curls look as if they'd been through a windstorm.

Yet even after Jane put the final book away and her hands were completely empty, Mr. Hearst did not try to press his advantage and embrace her. Though he walked closer to her than was strictly necessary as she escorted him to the out-of-the-way corner containing the library's books on Egyptian hieroglyphs, he continued to maintain the veneer of propriety through pleasant conversation. And though Jane was now thoroughly flustered by all that remained unspoken between them, she did her best to appear just as calm, cool and collected as the history teacher seemed to be.

But as ever when she was rattled, she could not maintain flawless poise in all arenas. When Jane selected a few of her favorite tomes on Egyptian hieroglyphs and turned to present them to Mr. Hearst for perusal, she banged her elbow on the edge of the shelf.

"Ouch!" she yelped, dropping the books and grabbing her arm.

"Jane!" Mr. Hearst exclaimed, his handsome face darkening with concern. "Are you all right?"

His impassioned reaction was so natural and sincere that it didn't immediately register he'd called her by her Christian name. Besides, Jane was in too much agony for such discernment; her elbow was throbbing, and she gritted her teeth as she waited for the pain to subside.

"May I?" Mr. Hearst inquired softly, extending his hands toward her. At her nod, he gently lifted her arm and, cradling her elbow tenderly in his hands, he examined it with a furrowed brow.

"Is it bleeding?" she asked, still wincing.

He smiled. "Fortunately, no. It's only a little scraped and red. There are no slivers, but you might have a bruise tomorrow."

Jane let out an exasperated but good-natured sigh as he let go of her arm and the pain began to ebb. "Oh, I'm used to bruises," she assured him. As clumsy as she was, they couldn't be helped!

Letting out a cough that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter, Mr. Hearst bent to pick up the books she'd unceremoniously dropped. "I'd like to check these volumes out – they'll do just nicely."

The assistant librarian goggled at him. "You haven't even looked at them yet!"

He smiled at her. "I trust your judgment completely."

As the history teacher handed over the volumes, their fingers touched again. This time, they both froze, and their eyes met. Mr. Hearst now looked as conflicted as she presently felt. Jane suddenly realized that whatever his methods, his attraction to her was more honorable than she had initially given him credit for; he looked like he desperately wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare. Not even when they were alone together in this secluded corner – the only two people in the entire building. Not even when her own countenance was radiating the same passionate longing in return. But Jane didn't avert her gaze or turn away in embarrassment. Her heart had finally gotten the better of her, and she was tired of fighting whatever this was between them.

Apparently, it wasn't a battle Mr. Hearst could win, either. "Jane… " he whispered in complete and total surrender, craning his head and moving closer to her. Just as William had done, all those years ago…

The books between them trembled as his warm hands slid over hers. Even as her mouth parted slightly and she tilted her head to welcome the history teacher's kiss, Jane wondered, was she really ready for this? But whether she was or not, she had dreamed of this moment, and she wasn't about to stop it – even if her knees were growing alarmingly weak. Hopefully, Jim Hearst's embrace would prove to be just as fiercely effective in arresting her swoon…

But to Jane's astonishment – and chagrin – he did not kiss her, after all. In a swift, agile motion, the history teacher tightened his own grip on the volumes while winding a steadying arm around the assistant librarian's waist and bringing her to rest snugly against his side.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Mr. Hearst insisted. His breath stirred her curls, making her shiver again.

"Just a little tired, I think," she said shakily, stammering any excuse she could think of. "And it's awfully stuffy in here, on such a warm night."

"Indeed, it is," he agreed. Jane heard the smile in his voice, but she had lost her nerve, and no longer dared to look into his eyes. Not when they were standing so close together. And not when he was breathing just as heavily as she was. It wasn't until he released her waist and took a step back that she met his gaze again – and was stunned to see that he had not only recovered his unruffled equanimity, he was also regarding her with his usual affable grin.

"Shall I check out your books, now?" she asked awkwardly, seizing on the only polite topic of conversation left to them.

"That would be wonderful," he smoothly concurred. But then his smile wavered precariously and he nervously cleared his throat. "And Jane… perhaps you'd like to come with me to the Candy Kitchen, afterward? I'd be pleased to treat you to the confection of your choice."

At first, Jane could only gape at Mr. Hearst. What strange new maneuver was this supposed to be? While asking her on this outing was an unmistakably romantic advance on his part, it was an awfully roundabout way to resume his subtle but passionate pursuit. He'd had her completely in his thrall just a few moments ago – he could have kissed her as he steadied her, instead of just doing the latter. In fact, he probably could have kissed her now and met with no resistance! Why hadn't he kissed her? Then again, the history teacher was not a hasty man; it had taken him nine whole months to even work up to this point. And Jane had indeed been craving a chocolate malted this evening. So she accepted his invitation.

After Jane stamped the two books on Egyptian hieroglyphs, Mr. Hearst asked if it would be possible to keep them at the front desk overnight, and he would stop by to pick them up bright and early tomorrow morning before school started. Even though this request seemed rather innocuous, the assistant librarian's heart flip-flopped again. If the meticulous history teacher was that concerned about losing track of the volumes entrusted to his care, perhaps he had a far more eventful evening in mind than just a short jaunt to the Candy Kitchen…

Or perhaps it was simply a matter of practicality. Mr. Hearst hadn't brought his satchel with him this evening (a surprisingly negligent omission that lent even greater credence to the assistant librarian's suspicions that the history teacher's need for books wasn't so pressing as he'd made it sound), and ferrying the two large and rather unwieldy volumes about town could prove difficult. For one, the tomes would have taken up an entire seat of their own at the confectionary's small tables. And given that Jane was already causing enough of a stir among passerby due to the fact that she was strolling arm in arm with Mr. Hearst down Center Street – he had promptly offered her his arm after she'd locked the library doors, and it would have been terribly churlish of her to refuse such gallantry – she did not need any trappings that would call additional attention to the two of them!

Jane did her best to remain determinedly oblivious to the eager looks cast in their direction and excited buzzing that surrounded them, but the situation was getting so terribly awkward as to be unbearable. What was Jim Hearst thinking, parading her before the gossip-greedy River City-ziens? Every now and then, she glanced at the history teacher out of the corner of her eyes to gauge his reaction to the atmosphere, and was irked to see that not only was he not sneaking looks at her in return, his expression was impeccably serene, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Nor did he attempt to talk to her; he seemed perfectly content to simply enjoy the silence and the warm spring breezes as they walked along.

Jane sighed. Some date this was turning out to be!

Mr. Hearst promptly regarded her with concerned eyes. "Are you feeling all right, Jane? I don't mean to insult, but you're looking quite flushed."

Once again, she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed by his perceptiveness. "It's merely the heat," she assured him. "I'll be fine once I've had something cool to drink."

He nodded and turned away again – but at the same time, he tugged her slightly closer to him, and in a manner that was so sweetly protective that Jane's cheeks crimsoned even more. Mr. Hearst may not have been as physically demonstrative or as bold in his romantic gestures as Professor Hill famously was, but it was clear he was not the indifferent soul he often appeared to be.

Fortunately, the assistant librarian and history teacher arrived at the Candy Kitchen without further incident and, as the confectionary was populated mainly by dreamy-eyed teenaged youths who were far more intent on mooning at their own beaus instead of eavesdropping on the couples around them, their entrance caused far less of a fuss than Jane would have predicted. And when Mr. Hearst smoothly but speedily guided her to a table in an out-of-the-way corner, the patrons of the establishment forgot about their presence entirely.

As the history teacher proceeded to the front counter to procure refreshments for the two of them, Jane took the opportunity to smooth her curls into place, as well as brush a few wrinkles from her blouse and skirt. A sudden eruption of girlish giggling made her jump and turn – was she being observed, after all? – but as it turned out, the perpetrators of the high-pitched twittering were cozily ensconced at a table and not even looking in her direction. Smiling and shaking her head at her jitteriness, Jane turned back to her table – only to catch Jim Hearst beaming fondly at her as he waited for Ed Langford to finish making their malteds.

Despite the thrill the history teacher's ardent glance sent through her, Jane was too flustered to do anything but blush and avert her gaze. She kept her eyes resolutely glued to the table from then on, and when Mr. Hearst placed a large chocolate malted before her a few moments later, she mumbled a hasty "thank you" and eagerly seized on this new distraction.

Mercifully, he didn't attempt to fill the silence or provoke her into speech. Instead, the history teacher likewise started in on his own malted (the assistant librarian sneaked a glance at his glass and noted with interest that his was strawberry).

Yet as Jane gradually recovered her composure, she began to find the silence even more nerve-wracking than Mr. Hearst's earlier heated gaze. The suspense was starting to weigh too heavily on her for comfort; any moment, he was sure to make his move. Perhaps he was simply waiting for her to look up at him…

Her anticipation overcoming her apprehension, Jane did just that. And she was crestfallen to see that the history teacher was gazing serenely downward at his malted.

Irked at Mr. Hearst's inattention to her person, she quickly lowered her eyes back to her own confection. Although she continued to sneak glances at the history teacher, the line of his gaze remained unchanged. And although his expression was placid as ever, there was something intangibly tense about his overall demeanor that led Jane to suspect this nonchalance was more studied than natural. He was being purposely standoffish, and she had a hunch she knew why: to draw her out again. And here she was, growing increasingly impatient to succumb to his advances! Truly, the man was as deviously cunning a seducer as Casanova himself.

But after nine months of constant rejection, can you really blame him for such careful circumspection? scolded the part of her that longed to feel Jim Hearst's arms around her waist and mouth covering hers. Being a shrinking violet is not going to encourage him to indicate his interest. If you don't want to chase him away again, you're going to have to do a little flirting!

But after more than a decade of assiduously avoiding such devices as sly, sideways smiles and romantically charged banter, the strait-laced assistant librarian didn't know where to begin. And she still wasn't altogether sure it was the wisest of ideas to encourage a man who'd expressed veiled admiration for the unrepentantly Sybaritic teachings of Giacomo Casanova. Perhaps she shouldn't have allowed herself to be wheedled into this date…

Oh, for heaven's sake – would you at least talk to him? After all, he did treat you to a malted!

Jane's eyes narrowed. She'd talk to him, all right. Holding her head upright and clearing her throat, she launched right into conversation. "I was just mulling over a line I came across this afternoon: 'A man who makes known his love by words is a fool.' Since you've also read Casanova's memoirs, I was wondering what your opinion was of his assertion."

Mr. Hearst's eyes widened in surprise and his affable smile wavered slightly, and Jane was pleased to have knocked him off balance. Provoke her into making the next move, would he? She felt even more triumphant when the history teacher lowered his eyes for a moment, ostensibly to give the matter thought. But she surmised it was more likely that he was reassessing his next maneuver, now that she had let him know she was on to the little game he was attempting to play with her.

However, when Mr. Hearst looked up again, his expression was as earnestly pensive as it ever was when they were engaged in academic debate. "I believe a man ought to have the courage of his convictions to clearly and unequivocally state his position on such important matters." He smiled the same wryly amused smile that had unsettled Jane earlier. "Giacomo Casanova might have been a charming man and an intelligent thinker, but he always struck me as a bit of a disingenuous rake, for all his proclamations that he passionately loved the truth."

At first, Jane wasn't sure what to make of the history teacher's statement – until she realized he had just given her invaluable ammunition. If indeed that was his genuine opinion on the matter, he would surely declare his feelings without too much additional prompting from her. Especially if Miss Marian was right in her supposition that Mr. Hearst's feelings for her were too strong for him to settle for mere friendship!

However, the assistant librarian's burgeoning sense of vindication dissipated when the two of them finished the final sips of their malteds, and he politely offered to escort her home.

Jane's mouth dropped open in astonishment, and the straw fell away from her lips. "So soon?" she protested, too flabbergasted to even attempt a nonchalant retort. "It's not even nine o'clock yet!"

Mr. Hearst smiled ruefully. "True, but it is a school night."

Over the years, Jane had gotten much better at keeping herself from imprudently blurting out her true feelings whenever her emotions got the better of her. But after so many months of disavowal, she could no longer hold back. Glaring at the man who had finally shattered her protracted patience, she asked him point-blank: "And just when are you planning to declare yourself?"

Now it was Mr. Hearst's turn to gape. "Pardon me?" he stammered, looking utterly bewildered.

As Miss Marian had said the previous night, there was no putting the water back once the dam had burst: "Since our almost-kiss in the library and your subsequent invitation to the Candy Kitchen, I've been waiting all evening for you to make another advance – brush your fingers against mine, pay me flattering compliments, or even just make idle conversation. But you haven't so much as looked at me since we sat down at this table. And now, instead of inviting me for a stroll to the footbridge, you're eager to bring me home! Is this a date, or isn't it?"

At first, it was a welcome relief to finally give rein to the frustration she'd been nursing for so long. But as Mr. Hearst continued to goggle wordlessly at her, even after she'd come to the end of her tirade, Jane felt herself welling up with the terrible urge to cry. She hadn't thought so far ahead as to anticipate his reaction to her outburst, but she'd expected him to do something. Even a dismissive laugh or repulsed expression would have been preferable to this nonplused gawping. Jane didn't know what to make of the history teacher's lack of response; she could only surmise that while he might have found her attractive enough to sneak a kiss or two in the stacks, the idea of courting or even canoodling with her was so completely foreign to him that it had never even entered his head. Feeling the avid gazes of the Candy Kitchen's other patrons focused on her once more, Jane rose from her chair and fled the establishment before she made an even bigger scene before them all.

The tears came almost as soon as she opened the door and was bathed with a warm breeze, but the assistant librarian angrily dashed the wetness from her cheeks as she hastened homeward. She would not cry. Not even when she reflected how thoroughly she had managed to humiliate herself with her reckless declarations. Not even when she fathomed just how unequivocally, ridiculously and tremendously wrong she'd been in her assessment of the entire situation.

But Jane did not have time to ponder the matter too much further, as an unmistakably familiar masculine voice called out,

"Jane – please slow down!"

The assistant librarian had allowed Mr. Hearst such liberties all evening, but now it was high time to put an end to such familiarity. "That's 'Miss Peabody' to you," she coldly retorted as she maintained her brisk pace.

Being much stronger and faster than she was, the history teacher easily caught up to her and grabbed her arm. Jane whirled around to tell him to unhand her, but when their eyes met, she saw such tender concern in Mr. Hearst's gaze that she couldn't bring herself to be so cold. However, she still refused to speak to him, and resumed her inexorable march forward.

"Jane, I'm sorry for getting so tongue-tied," he said contritely as they walked along. "The truth is – I did invite you to the Candy Kitchen as a date."

When she still didn't say anything, Mr. Hearst brought the two of them to a halt and tugged her arm until she was facing him again. "I assure you, it wasn't my intention to embarrass or upset you." He paused, and frustration entered both his tone and expression as he went on, "Ever since we first met last summer, I've wanted to get to know you better outside the confines of the library. But for nine solid months, you staunchly rejected even my slightest advances. I am trying to court you, and I seriously considered declaring myself tonight, but after the way you trembled when I came close to you in the library and the way you shied away from my unguarded glance in the Candy Kitchen, I didn't think you were ready to hear me talk that way." He looked down. "At least, not yet."

Even as her heart fluttered to hear the longing in his voice, Jane resentfully asked, "If you were so mad about me all these months, then why did you disappear from the library for a whole week, and avoid me assiduously upon your return?"

Looking suddenly elated, Mr. Hearst's head jerked back up. "You noticed I'd stopped coming to the library?"

"Not until after a day or two had passed," Jane fibbed, averting her eyes lest the history teacher immediately see she was telling a falsehood. However, her wobbly voice betrayed her true feelings. "Was it a Casanova-inspired tactic to draw me out?"

William Randall would have lost his temper at such incendiary slander and retorted with a stinging rebuke, but Jim Hearst did not. Though the history teacher's hand twitched sharply over hers for a brief moment, he did not speak. Instead, he wrapped Jane's arm firmly around his and pulled her to walk with him. Although she was originally the one to storm away, he was now leading their stroll – and from the looks of things, he was taking her to the footbridge. Her heart now prickling with remorse and disappointment, the assistant librarian further surmised from Mr. Hearst's irked expression and the determined set of his shoulders that this wasn't going to be the carefree, canoodling-filled constitutional she had been dreaming of for the past several days.

Indeed, when they finally reached their destination, her maligned escort let go of her arm and then turned to regard her with narrowed eyes. "Jane – I most certainly did not disappear to hurt you, or in a sly attempt to draw you out. After nine months of getting absolutely nowhere with you, I was becoming a town laughingstock. So I thought it best to withdraw and try to forget I felt anything for you in the first place because clearly, you did not care for me in that way. But given the nature of my profession and scholarly interests, I couldn't avoid the library forever. Your behavior upon my return was a complete surprise – still confusing, but encouraging enough that I decided it was well worth making one final advance."

Despite the earnest vehemence of his demeanor, Jane remained somewhat skeptical. "And just what are the ultimate intentions of your advances, Mr. Hearst?" she asked, coolly and frankly.

"I mean to court you," he immediately replied, just as no-nonsense and candid as she. "And if that goes well, I intend to marry you, Jane Edna Peabody."

At that, Jane's heart began to beat wildly and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. He didn't just see her as a pretty face or a heated but brief liaison. He loved her. Jim Hearst loved her! Floored and humbled, she could only gape at him in the exact same befuddled manner as he had regarded her in the Candy Kitchen earlier. As she continued to look at him, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if to say, how's that for declaration?

It was this smirk that goaded Jane back into speech. "You've so thoroughly plotted our future together without even consulting me as to whether I was amenable to courtship in the first place," she sardonically observed.

His smile turned sheepish. "Well, I wasn't planning on springing this on you all at once. But you were extremely and startlingly direct in your questioning of my intentions, so I had no other recourse than to be completely honest." The history teacher's expression then turned downright bashful, as if he was a teenager nervously wooing the gal who'd long been the apple of his eye. "Of course, your consent would be crucial in this matter."

Just as she'd been unable to keep her dismay under wraps, Jane could not conceal the enchantment that lit up her eyes and smile. Seeing the normally calm and collected Jim Hearst so flustered and smitten was wholly endearing – and his lack of composure was made all the sweeter by the fact that her own heart yearned for him just as much in return.

Although the history teacher was already standing quite near to her, he took another, tentative step closer. "Jane," he said quietly, "why are you fighting this so much?"

His voice and gaze were so tender that she wanted him even more. But there was still one more inexorable barrier remaining between them – the ghost of William Randall. It wasn't that Jane couldn't let go of her first love, it was that she knew the meticulously moral history teacher could never approve of her innocent but torrid love affair, and would likely censure her once he discovered her unsavory conduct. The assistant librarian's own unforgivingly scrupulous sense of decency did not allow her to keep such revealing information about her true character from a serious romantic suitor; to allow Jim Hearst to marry or even court her ignorant of such an important epoch in her life would be an odious deception on her part.

However, unable to bear the final, inevitable rejection once the man she loved discovered her secret, Jane crossly demurred, "You're fighting this, too. You could have kissed me when we were alone together in the library, instead of just arresting my fall."

"I could have," Mr. Hearst concurred. The keenly ardent look blazed in his eyes again. "I wanted to. But in the end, I'm glad I didn't. Because it was far more important to me to court you properly. That is, I preferred to take you on an actual date first, before we engaged in such intimacies. At the very least, I'd like to come to an honest and straightforward understanding with you – not merely an implied one, forged on kisses alone." His expression grew perplexed. "If you do, in fact, return my feelings, why do you continue to reject me? Do you disapprove of me in some way?"

Jane's shoulders slumped and she bowed her head. At long last, it was time to tell him the truth. "On the contrary – you're one of the most admirable and decent men I've ever met. Which is exactly why I don't deserve you." She forced herself to look Mr. Hearst in the eye. "I do care for you – so much so that I'm going to save you the trouble of rescinding your overtures later. Because it is you who would disapprove of me, and rightfully so, if you knew more of my prior history."

Though concern entered the history teacher's expression at her words, the tender look in his eyes did not lessen, and he reached out and gently took her hands in his. "Try me, Jane."

Lowering her gaze once more, she nevertheless rose to the challenge – though she took care to speak in the third person, lest she burst into tears. "Imagine, if you will, a girl who was only in her infancy when her parents died tragically in a house fire. Although her aunt and uncle took her in and raised her as their own, they had no money to send her college. Since she was not a pretty lass by any stretch of the imagination – and too much of a bluestocking to find a husband, besides – the only option left to her upon high school graduation was to become a personal secretary for a zoology professor at Iowa State College."

Jane paused and swallowed as a lump came into her throat, despite her doing everything she possibly could to prevent it. "Imagine, if you will, that this girl – this silly, naïve girl who was brought up carefully and properly and ought to have known better – ended up falling hopelessly in love with this professor, who was thirty years her senior, married and father to two teenaged daughters who were only a few years younger than she was at the time. However, being a lonely man who was sadly and irrevocably estranged from his wife, the professor couldn't help falling in love with her, in return. This secretary and professor both knew full well they had no right to fall in love, and they certainly had no right to exchange declarations and even kisses, but they did so, anyway. While they did not outright have an affair, they shared embraces that came dangerously close to breaking the seventh commandment. Being an honorable man, the professor eventually found a pretext for the secretary to quit that preserved both their reputations: through his influence she 'won' a full scholarship to the University of Iowa. As the former secretary went on to achieve her bachelor's degree, the bereft professor died of a broken heart, leaving not just his wife, but his two beloved daughters, who were still just girls. All because she had come into his life."

Once again, the tears massing behind her gaze threatened to burst forth; Jane paused to swallow in an effort to compose herself. "But despite her wicked folly, Providence saw fit to guide this girl to River City, where she became the assistant librarian for a lady whose wisdom, charity and grace rival that of the virtuous woman in Proverbs. So this girl finally found her rightful place in the world and, relinquishing those dangerous dreams of love and white knights, strove to live an upright life free of such temptation and vice."

Having come to the end of her story, Jane quieted and continued to stare determinedly at Mr. Hearst's hands – which were still holding hers. She had expected the history teacher to let go of her in disgust, but to her bewilderment, his grasp had only tightened throughout the course of her tale.

"A girl – a woman – who shied away from subsequent romantic suitors, because she understandably never wanted to go through such heartache and loss again," he quietly observed. "A wonderful woman who, regrettably, can't seem to forgive herself for transgressions that weren't as reprehensible as she believes them to be."

Jane's head jerked up, and she was startled to see there wasn't the least bit of revulsion – or even disapproval – in his expression. She blinked, and a few tears escaped. "Is that the way you view the matter?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

"Let me tell you a story, Jane," he said. "Imagine, if you will, a boy who fell in love with a girl when he was in grade school. Imagine that she fell in love with him, too, and that they only ever had eyes for each other. As soon as they grew up, they got married. Sadly, they weren't able to have children, even though they dearly wanted a family, but they accepted their lot and lived happily together."

The history teacher paused, and his eyes glazed over. "Then imagine that, after fifteen years of marriage, she contracted cancer and died. Unable to bear the heartache of continuing to exist – when she died, he no longer thought of it as living – in the house they'd shared or even the town they'd grown up in, that man found a job far away from everything he knew. For him, the prospect of spending the remainder of his lonely existence among strangers in unfamiliar surroundings was far easier to bear than staying in a place where he was assailed at every turn by the memory of the love he'd lost. So even though he'd lived in Gloriosa all his life and never so much as crossed the state line of Kansas, he left everything and everyone he'd ever known. Knowing that the pain of losing his wife would never go away completely, he hoped that with a little distance, it would at least recede somewhat. Though he hoped to eventually make new friends in River City, he never expected or even wanted to care for another woman after losing his Louisa Grace."

Mr. Hearst paused again and leaned closer, until their noses were practically touching. His breath was warm and sweet upon Jane's cheeks as he continued, "But when he walked into Madison Public Library and saw the assistant librarian – who, despite her avowals to the contrary, is indeed pretty – he was instantly and irrevocably enchanted by her cheerful smile and sweet nature. Although this man was somewhat vexed by the splintering of the ancient history section at first, he came to appreciate how spread out it was, because it gave him the perfect excuse to linger in the library and spend as much time as possible with the woman he was falling in love with. And when she told him about her sad past, he admired her strength of character in the face of temptation and heartbreak, and the thought of rescinding his overtures never even entered his mind. On the contrary, he wanted to court her even more… "

Mr. Hearst stopped speaking and stared deeply into her eyes. For one wonderful, heart-stopping moment, Jane thought he was finally going to kiss her. But instead, he lifted her hands to his lips, and then turned them over and kissed the insides of her palms.

Although a few more tears escaped and she trembled slightly, Jane finally found not just her voice, but also a small, encouraging smile. "Suppose this assistant librarian has had too little experience with proper courtship to completely fathom what such things entail?"

Beaming at her in return, Mr. Hearst lowered her hands and laced his fingers through hers. "Courtship would entail much the same as what we already share now – friendship and good conversation. However, in addition to conversing in the library stacks, the assistant librarian and history teacher would attend dances and parties and picnics together, and sometimes he would treat her to confections at the Candy Kitchen. Sometimes they'd go on long strolls through fields and farmland, just the two of them enjoying each other's company and the sweet understanding they alone shared. And if she gave her consent, they'd walk hand in hand, or perhaps his arm would rest around her waist. And sometimes, when they were completely alone, they would stand very close together with their arms around each other, just like this" – his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her nearer to him – "and they would not talk at all… "

Jane's smile broadened, and she tilted her head at the proper angle as he moved in. "Jim… " she breathed, sweetly urging him onward.

For one maddening moment, he paused, and she chided herself inwardly for botching yet another kiss. But then Jim said in a rush of delight, "Oh, Jane – you don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you call me that… "

And without further ado, his mouth finally covered hers. Yet for all the unrestrained longing in the history teacher's voice, his kiss was surprisingly courteous, gentle and mild – but with an underlying passion and determination, much like his character. Although Jane was not so forward as to take the lead in deepening their embrace, she closed her eyes, parted her lips, and yielded as wholly and adeptly to Jim's advances as she knew how.

"Hmm," Jim said with a playful smile after their lips parted. "I should have gotten the chocolate malted, instead."

Jane giggled. "I was just regretting not having ordered the strawberry."

As the history teacher laughed and pulled her even closer, Jane buried her face in his lapel and inhaled deeply. She did not breathe in the heady aroma of leather, tobacco or brandy; Jim Hearst smelled simply of starched linen, soap and aftershave. It was a clean, invigorating scent, so different than that of the man she loved before. But it was an intoxicating aroma, all the same. "Jim," she said softly, testing his preferred appellation out again and liking the way it rolled so easily and gracefully off her tongue. Then she clutched at his lapel and inhaled deeply again.

"Oh, Jane… " he breathed, pressing his lips warmly against her forehead. "So much for this being my Sunday suit any longer – all I'll ever be able to think of is this moment whenever I wear it!"

Jane could have continued the conversation in this vein by archly observing that it would indeed be inappropriate to don an outfit recalling a romantic tryst when one was supposed to be solemnly in prayer, but she suddenly lacked the heart to engage in such teasing, lighthearted as it was. Instead, she raised her head to look at the man she loved and bashfully confessed, "I've been wanting to do that since the day we first shook hands."

For one, wonderful moment, Jim simply regarded her with an ardent look. Then he leaned in and buried his face in her curls. "I've been wanting to do this since the first day you caught my eye," he said in a low voice.

Even as her heart fluttered with sheer delight at this proclamation, Jane couldn't help laughing. How was it that even though her unruly tresses repelled so many suitors, the men who did end up falling in love with her loved her for her curls, rather than in spite of them? "My hair is a fright!" she protested, but good-naturedly. "And even if I did have sleeker tresses, it's been my experience that most men prefer fair-haired ladies."

"Most men are fools," Jim countered passionately. "You're a first-rate catch, Jane Edna Peabody. You're beautiful" – he kissed her curls – "intelligent" – he kissed her forehead – "kind" – he kissed her cheek – "sweet" – he kissed her neck – "and honest" – he kissed her lightly on the lips.

While the assistant librarian graciously accepted the majority of his compliments, she could not let the last one go by without argument. "Honest? I'm terribly blunt – at least, far more blunt than a lady should be."

Jim shook his head. "You have a refreshingly forthright nature. As unprepared as I was for your stark honesty at first, I greatly admire it. I've never liked the coy games most women tend to play." He regarded her with a stern, almost scolding, expression. "Jane Edna Peabody, if you're still trying to talk me out of loving you, you're failing miserably at it – " He kissed her again, harder this time.

Deciding to cede him the debate – at least, just this once – Jane parted her lips in silent invitation for him to deepen their embrace. But to her amused exasperation, Jim soon broke their kiss to bury his face in her curls once more. As he luxuriated in her tresses, she nuzzled his cheek indulgently and whispered everything she found so appealing about him, in return. And to her delight, not only was his mouth soon impatient to find hers once more, he no longer hesitated to part her lips and explore the contours of her mouth with his tongue. As he kissed her both avidly and sweetly, Jane boldly reciprocated in kind; although she had not experienced such passion in several years, she had never forgotten what she learned beneath William's ardent tutelage. She could have easily played the blushing, innocent rose and followed Jim's lead, as he clearly knew what he was doing, but it was far more wonderful and exhilarating to properly kiss the man she loved and have him sigh and nestle close to her – thrillingly, dangerously close. Yet even after Jim slid his hand behind her neck and tilted her head so he could kiss her even more deeply, the rhythm of their embrace remained easy and delightful, fueled by passionate longing but free of any sense of brokenhearted desperation and impending loss. This kiss was only the beginning for them.

Although Jane blushed to see just how taken Jim looked with her embrace when their lips finally parted, a not-insignificant part of her was unabashedly grateful that she was not entirely inexperienced in the arena of physical love.

However, as the assistant librarian was still a maid, her embarrassment eventually won out. "See?" she said softly. "Terribly blunt."

Still looking dazed – and happily so – Jim gently cupped her cheek with his hand. "You do know what it is to love, with all your heart and soul – and then to lose everything," he agreed, sounding awed but not at all perturbed. His arms tightened around her again, this time protectively. "Mrs. Hill urged me to tread carefully with you – and I'm glad she did."

Jane's eyes widened, and she forgot her embarrassment. "You talked to Miss Marian about me?" she exclaimed, not sure whether to be flattered or miffed by this unexpected revelation. "When?"

Jim looked a bit sheepish. "Actually, she approached me last week. Not to pry, but because she was growing too concerned about the situation to remain silent. She frankly but politely pointed out I was in grave danger of overplaying my hand and making a complete fool of myself. And she was right – I was spending nearly as much time in the library as I was in class, and I had nothing to show for it. So I decided it would be best to stay away for a little while, until I got used to the idea that the woman my heart longed for didn't and likely wouldn't ever return my feelings."

Jane warmly hugged the man she loved. "As dreadfully lonely as your absence left me, I will always be grateful for it. Because it was only when I realized what I had lost that I finally had to stop denying the true depth of my feelings for you." She smiled, feeling just as sheepish. "Miss Marian also had a talk with me, as well – when I went to her for advice, she gently but steadfastly urged me to face my fears and take the necessary steps to overcome them." Pressing her lips to Jim's cheek in a deeply apologetic kiss, she continued, "I'm sorry for being so inscrutable – and for all the pain I've caused you these past several months."

Jim's hands stroked her back soothingly as he continued to hold her close. "I'm sorry for your heartache, Jane. Hopefully it will ease your heart to know that even when I longed for you to return my feelings, your friendship alone made me happier than I ever thought I'd ever be again. And whatever pain I may have felt over your rejection has faded away completely – now that we've cleared up our misunderstandings, we've got a bright future ahead of us." He ended their embrace and laced his fingers through hers. "And let me further assure you that I mean to take our courtship slowly. Now that we have come to an understanding, I look forward to getting to know you even better, both cordially and romantically." Giving her hands an affectionate squeeze, he concluded, "And on that note, perhaps you'd like to return with me to the Candy Kitchen for another malted – a strawberry one, this time?"

Jane archly raised an eyebrow at him. "On a school night?"

Jim's eyes twinkled, even as he wore his usual affable smile. "You're worth losing sleep over, any day."

For the first time in her life, the strait-laced assistant librarian was actually managing to flirt deliberately with a man, and she was stunned to discover how easy it could be. And not only that, she was planning to continue! Smiling mischievously, Jane took a step forward, closing the distance between them once more. "Later, perhaps. To be perfectly frank, I think it would be best for us to linger at the footbridge for just a little while longer. Because after so many months of frustration and misunderstanding, we still have so much to not talk about… "

Jim's smile disappeared, but Jane wasn't alarmed she'd offended him. On the contrary, the history teacher's expression was as elated as that of the man who, as the school board sang so sweetly, had come home to his Lida Rose at last.

"You know, I think we do," the history teacher agreed, his voice thick with longing. Pulling Jane close once more, his mouth ardently covered hers and, except for the occasional soft sigh, they were indeed silent for quite awhile.

XXX

That same evening, thanks to a surprise visit from Mrs. Paroo, Harold and Marian managed to get away for their own stroll to the footbridge. But as they rounded the corner to their favorite canoodling spot, they saw it was already happily occupied.

The music professor grinned and winked at the librarian. "Well, what do you know? Jane and Jim finally managed to come to an understanding, after all."

Both relieved and delighted by this turn of events, Marian couldn't help laughing. "It's about time!" she said vehemently, before heading off with her husband to the Candy Kitchen for the time being.

XXX

A/N – And so, after a year and four-plus months, this novel-length fic has finally come to a close! However, while this may be the end of The New Arrival, it's only the beginning of Jane's courtship – there will be more to come with the assistant librarian and history teacher in a future fic. But for now, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!