No, it is not only our fate but our business to lose innocence, and once we have lost that, it is futile to attempt a picnic in Eden.
~Elizabeth Bowen (1899-1973)
She sails through his memory just like a ship of chaplet
As it started to sink he was drinking to drown his sorrows
That fill his nights and they empty his tomorrows
~Elvis Costello, Down Among the Wines and Spirits
Let us sing (let us sing) of Lydia Pinkham
The benefactress of the human race.
She invented a vegetable compound,
And now all papers print her face.
~The Ballad of Lydia Pinkham
XXX
August 18, 1925
One day, Jim Hearst didn't show up at the library.
It was a sweltering Tuesday in the hottest month of summer. On such a dreadful kind of day, Madison Public Library entertained few patrons. If there had been anyone in the vicinity who cared to observe, no one would have thought it strange that the history teacher stayed away, even if he was courting the assistant librarian.
Jane, of course, found his absence disquieting. Since the school year ended, Jim spent even more time at the library, and not just out of desire to see his sweetheart. As a dedicated teacher and scholar, he needed to keep up with his studies and refine his curriculum for the coming year. And after his week-long disappearance upset Jane so much last May, Jim had become much more scrupulous about informing her of his comings and goings. As far as Jane could recall, he hadn't indicated he would not be coming to the library today… though, come to think of it, he had seemed a bit more subdued than usual these past few weeks. Then again, he'd been working extremely hard of late, and he was always more distracted and pensive whenever he threw himself into a project. Perhaps Jim had heeded her affectionate advice to take a much-needed day of rest!
But if this was the case, why had he not told her as much? As morning turned into afternoon, Jane couldn't shake her growing concern that something was amiss. Sometimes Jim could be so hard to read, though she was getting better at divining his subtle changes of mood as she got to know him. She tried never to compare Jim to William, as that wouldn't have been fair or useful to anyone. Still, she couldn't help reflecting that – except for that one, agonizing week when William strove to hide his true feelings in a noble but futile attempt to salvage her livelihood – she had always known exactly where she stood with the tempestuous zoology professor. Disloyally, the assistant librarian was starting to wish for some kind of outburst from her mild-mannered history teacher. Although Jane suspected she no longer possessed the patience to endure such petulant fits of temper as she did in her youth, Jim's eternally placid demeanor was starting to vex her. Did he really feel things as deeply as she surmised, or was she reading more into his looks and smiles than was actually there? Was Jim gradually but inexorably falling out of love with her?
In search of additional clues, Jane thoroughly examined her memories of their recent interactions, turning every little detail over and over in her mind. They'd been courting for a little over three months now, and while Jim was as careful as ever in his behavior toward her in public, the passion she perceived lurking beneath the twinkle in his eyes and affable smile hadn't waned. If anything, it had actually increased. Ever since they'd passed that lovely evening waltzing on Madison Park Pavilion together, he'd been taking her to the footbridge for private dance lessons every Thursday evening, regular as clockwork. And while Jane was steadily improving beneath the history teacher's patient and persistent tutelage, they were starting to spend more and more time not dancing and not engaging in one of their everlasting debates about the arrangement of the library's ancient history collections or any of the other scholarly subjects that so fascinated them both.
Perhaps Jim was distancing himself because his passions had become too inflamed, and he wished to preserve her modesty until he was ready to propose. Had she unwittingly provoked his carnal appetites too far? Though Jane was no longer a dangerously naïve ingénue when it came to romance, there was still so much she didn't know about relations between men and women. Perhaps she had been too effusive in her words and glances. She was far too deeply affected by her own passions for nature and knowledge and, the more their friendship and fondness for each other deepened, the more freely and indiscreetly she expressed these yearnings to him. Very early one May morning, when their courtship was almost as new as the day itself, Jim was escorting Jane to the library on his way to school. As they walked along the mostly empty streets in companionable silence, she happened to look up and see the most perfect tableau: a pale white sliver of the crescent moon lingering in the cerulean sky, framed by the delicate greens, reds, whites and pinks of trees in early bud. If Jane had possessed an ounce of artistic talent, she would have painted this scene. Unable to express her enchantment in so refined and constructive a manner, she unceremoniously grabbed Jim's arm and pulled him to a halt. When he regarded her with a bewildered expression, she excitedly pointed to the vista before them, too overcome with entrancement to explain herself in words.
As Jim gazed at the heavens, his expression inscrutable, Jane remembered her manners, and inwardly castigated herself for behaving like a silly girl. She started stammering an apology, but had not gotten much out of her mouth before Jim's keen eyes found hers.
"You have a brilliant eye, Jane," he said in the soft, intent voice that never failed to give her the most delightful goosebumps. "Please don't ever lose it."
Although she still felt rather foolish, Jane nevertheless beamed and nodded, and they continued walking along. Though nothing else was said until they bade each other farewell, the heated look and handclasp the history teacher gave her when taking his leave at the steps of Madison Public Library was more than enough to sustain the crimson in her cheeks, a condition which didn't fade until a good quarter of an hour after he'd departed.
Jane finally emerged from her reverie when the clock on the wall chimed eight. It was time to close the library. And Jim still hasn't showed up, her mind unhappily whispered as she assiduously set things to rights. Still, despite the persistent hunch that something was amiss, she refused to rule out the possibility that Jim was waiting for her just outside on the front steps, even though it had been at least two whole months since he considered it necessary to maintain such a scrupulously proper façade.
Indeed, when Jane exited the building and locked the large double doors, no one was standing there to greet her. She still refused to despair, or give any credence to the irrational inclination urging her to pay a visit to his rooms. With a shudder, she imagined the lurid rumors that would swirl around the two of them if she did something so scandalous. At the very least, they would completely lose the disinterest and seclusion they'd worked so diligently to attain.
Yet even the threat of impropriety wasn't enough to keep Jane from entirely avoiding temptation. Jim's boarding house was only a few doors down from hers and, while it wasn't strictly on her walk home, it wasn't so far out of the way as to arouse suspicion if she happened to pass by. Fortunately, though his room was all the way up on the third floor, it faced the street, so she could remain properly on the sidewalk while conducting her investigation. As the assistant librarian walked past the building, her pace leisurely but not dawdling enough to attract suspicion, she eyed the history teacher's windows askance. While they were all wide open and the curtains were parted halfway, presumably to let in the cool evening air while still maintaining a modicum of privacy, no lamp was lit within. Social consequences be damned, Jane came to a halt and stared at Jim's windows with unguarded consternation. He never left the drapes – let alone the windows! – open so much as a sliver when he went out. So he had to have been at home (she refused to consider such unsavory and unlikely possibilities as abduction or desertion), but he couldn't possibly have been reading or studying. Was he ill?
Squinting in the twilight, Jane perceived one of the curtains swaying slightly, even though the air was still. But just as her spirits began to perk up – was Jim coming to the window to greet her? – a gust of wind ruffled all the drapes, along with her hair and dress. When the breeze finally ceased, the curtains hung limply once more, and no shadow stirred behind them.
Though that pesky premonition of trouble still nagged at her, Jane had gone as far as she dared. While concern made her linger beneath Jim's windows for longer than was appropriate, she wasn't yet so daft with worry as to march upstairs to his door and knock on it. Unfortunately, attempting to phone him would have drawn just as much if not more attention to her predicament, as each of their boarding houses contained only one telephone apiece, both of which were located in their respective communal parlors.
With a sigh, Jane turned away and trudged toward her own lodgings. Giving the telephone a longing glance as she passed by the parlor on the way to her room, she nevertheless maintained enough self-restraint to continue upstairs. Not for the first time, she wished her windows faced Jim's. Since they didn't, there was nothing to do but go to bed and wait to see what tomorrow brought. Most likely, she was fretting over nothing. Jim was an exceedingly patient man and, while he was sometimes a little more circumspect about revealing his intentions than she'd prefer, he hadn't let her down yet. She just needed to continue being patient.
XXX
It didn't take Jane long to fall asleep, as both apprehension and the late-summer heat had exhausted her, but her slumber was unsettled. When her alarm clock finally jolted her fully awake, she had no appetite for breakfast, even though she had neglected to eat supper the night before. Still, she dutifully forced down some toast and tea before heading off to the library.
As Jane approached Jim's boarding house, she was both reassured and dismayed to see that his windows and drapes were still wide open. From what she knew of the history teacher's habits, she surmised that not only was he in residence, he was ill or otherwise indisposed. He was meticulous about his morning constitutionals, which he took between seven and eight o'clock each day, weather permitting. As it was now a full five minutes past seven, he should have been out walking.
Jane was further vexed by the reminder that this was the first day in a month that she was not accompanying Jim on his morning stroll. This pleasant custom came about by pure chance. One morning shortly after sunrise in mid-July, Jane was too enchanted by the spellbinding quiet of the morning to settle for merely opening her window, so she dressed and went outside to sit on the front porch of her boarding house. To her surprise and delight, Jim soon passed by. Looking just as pleased by this unexpected turn of events, he not only came right over to her, but offered her his arm and invited her to walk with him. In their subsequent conversation, Jim revealed that he was also an enthusiastic early riser… and, with a hint of red spreading across his cheeks that may or may not have been due to the heat, he admitted he'd been purposely taking this particular route for several weeks now, in the hopes of encountering her.
Since hearing this lovely confession, Jane made it a point to be sitting on her front porch by six forty-five sharp every single morning. She often wondered if she ought to make herself scarce at least one or two days a week, lest people talk, or worse, that he tire of her incessant companionship. But every single morning, Jim greeted her with a smile of such warm, unguarded fondness that she simply couldn't stay away. The only reason she had not waited for him on her porch this morning was that she couldn't bear the disappointment of his standing her up. Indeed, if she had waited, that's exactly what would have happened.
Staring up at Jim's wide-open windows, Jane was at a loss as to what she should do next. If only it was socially acceptable to knock on his door! The other inhabitants of the history teacher's boarding house generally minded their own business, but like most River City-ziens, they were not so disinterested in a man's affairs as to ignore an unmarried woman not only brazenly calling on him for a visit, but going right upstairs to his room. As the minutes inexorably passed, she didn't even have the luxury of lingering in the vicinity – too many people were starting to eye her suspiciously as they passed by. If she remained standing here too much longer, rumors would no doubt start to spread about the assistant librarian skulking beneath the reticent history teacher's windows like a lovelorn ninny.
Her chagrin finally winning out over her concern, Jane marched past the boarding house at a brisk pace. Let him seek her out, when he was ready to do so!
XXX
Jane hoped that her usual placid level-headedness would return to her once Jim's boarding house was out of sight. However, there were too few patrons and too little work at the library to distract her mind, so as the hours monotonously ticked by, her distress only increased. What if something was seriously wrong? The history teacher had no family in Iowa, and Jane was his dearest friend in the world. It was the dead of summer, so he had no school to miss. No one but her would consider making intrusive inquiries into his whereabouts until it was far too late to reverse the damage caused by such neglect. At that sobering thought, Jane's capricious imagination immediately conjured up unwelcome tableaus of Jim lying limp and broken somewhere deep in his rooms, too incapacitated to move or cry out, while she stood impotently on the street below, frozen in a silly dither about propriety and appearances. If her maidenly reticence cost him his health or, God forbid, his life, she would never forgive herself.
Jane had just made up her mind up that she was going to pay his rooms a visit at lunchtime, come hell, high water or ruined reputations, when Jim walked through the library's wide double doors shortly before noon.
All morning, Jane promised herself she would be scrupulously calm, cool and collected if – when, her heart desperately hoped – Jim was in a fit enough state to show himself in public again. But the icy, sickening dread that coursed through her veins and made her shiver despite the heat could not be so easily quenched. It wasn't enough to verify with her eyes that the man she loved was whole and unharmed. She needed much more than that to quell her misgivings. Even though Jim's clothes were neatly pressed and his hair was slicked impeccably in place as ever, his expression was haggard and pale, without even a ghost of an affable smile, let alone the affectionate beam he reserved for her when they were alone together.
Fortunately, there were no patrons present to witness the wholly unladylike way the assistant librarian ran over to the history teacher and threw her arms around him. "Good heavens, Jim – you look like Jacob after he wrestled with the angel!"
Before she could apologize for her heedless remark, Jim let out a hoarse laugh that was more of a croak. "That's exactly how I feel, in point of fact." He buried his face in her disheveled curls and inhaled deeply. "It was a long and unhappy night."
Indeed, he was trembling just as much as she was, though he fiercely returned her hug. "Oh Jane," he sighed. "My wife died two years ago yesterday. I should have warned you I wasn't going to be in the mood for company… "
As he trailed off, Jane felt the strangest combination of relief, irritation and sympathy. First and foremost, she was grateful that Jim hadn't been ill. Nor had he grown tired of her, if the way he was presently luxuriating in her hair was any indication. But she was also a bit hurt that he hadn't confided his sorrow to her until circumstances forced him to explain his absence. However, it would be churlish of her to chide him for his lack of trust in her and their relationship, especially when she had known the complex and devastating grief of losing the man she loved. Her loss was an old wound that had since scarred over, but she would never forget how awful it felt when the injury was still raw and hemorrhaging. For the time being, she must put her convoluted feelings aside. "Don't worry about me, Jim. I'm fine. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Despite her best efforts, something of her disquiet must have leaked into her tone, because for the first time since his arrival, Jim lifted his head to look at her – really look at her. She noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and her own eyes widened in consternation. But she said nothing, simply waiting in attentive silence.
For a long moment, Jim regarded her with almost desperate longing, before finally stammering, "I think I'm going to need that book on Egyptian hieroglyphs – "
Without preamble, Jane seized Jim's hand and pulled him toward the spiral staircase.
XXX
After time had weighed so ruthlessly on her for the past few days, Jane blithely surrendered to losing all sense of it the moment Jim's arms wrapped around her waist. But she was brought back to her senses far too quickly, as not long after they'd taken up their favorite canoodling spot, his mouth suddenly parted from hers. "Your next day off is Friday, correct?"
Confounded by being on the receiving end of such an unexpectedly mundane question in the midst of necking, Jane could only nod.
"Would you care to join me for a picnic at the lake just outside of town?" Jim asked, looking as endearingly bashful as he had the first time he ever screwed up the courage to invite her to the Candy Kitchen. "I'll rent a flivver from Squires' Livery and we'll make an afternoon of it."
Although they had taken several long strolls together, Jim had never invited her anywhere they couldn't reach by foot. If Jane wasn't still so dazed from their embrace, she would have laughed at the incongruity of this diffident, passionate man. One minute, his tongue was deeply and unabashedly in her mouth, and the next, he was practically tripping over it.
"That sounds wonderful," she said happily. "I've always wanted to go on a drive with you."
Once again, Jane was prepared to castigate herself for being too unreserved in her response. But to her surprise, Jim looked just as elated by her unvarnished enthusiasm as he did when she agreed to go to the dance with him.
Emboldened by his tacit encouragement of her conduct, she did not apologize for her forwardness. Instead, she compounded it by leaning in and pressing her mouth against his. And not for a tender, teasing, close-mouthed kiss similar to the one she had given him after their first successful waltz together, but a heated, forthright, honest-to-goodness kiss that expressed all the joy and affection she was too hopelessly inarticulate to express. Ever the gentleman, Jim held her close but not too close, even as he passionately reciprocated her eager caresses.
XXX
August 21, 1925
The beginning of the assistant librarian's first-ever car date was not something most young ladies would have called romantic. Even a spinster nearing middle age, who couldn't afford to be too choosy, would have been hard-pressed to feign polite interest in her beau's detailed explanations of handbrakes, cranks, levers, throttles, pedals, the difference between battery and magneto power, and the inner workings of a 1922 Model T Roadster engine. But as Jane had never been a conventional female, she relished learning all of these finer points from Jim as they drove along River City's streets. Although automobiles were quite common nowadays, she could count on one hand the number of times she had actually ridden in one and, until today, she'd never sat in the front seat. In fact, Jane was so fascinated by the subject that once they ambled past the city limits, Jim pulled over to the side of the road – now nothing more than a dirt path – turned the car off, and gave her a tutorial on how to start it up.
"Now," he cautioned, "the first thing you must always do is check that the handbrake is pulled all the way back, which disengages the transmission. Otherwise, you could run someone over – or yourself, if you're starting up with the hand crank."
Jane nodded solemnly, committing this warning to memory.
Jim meticulously pulled the handbrake back before continuing his lesson. "There are two ways to start a Model T: electric or hand crank. It used to be just by hand crank, until about 1919." His affable smile turned boyishly excited. "And look – electric headlights!" He flashed them on and off, and then his demeanor turned serious again. "In addition to making sure the handbrake is pulled back, check that the spark advance lever is all the way up and the throttle is barely opened." He adjusted the levers to the right and left of the steering wheel. "Next, turn the key to battery. Since the engine is warm, it's probably going to start right back up." As if on cue, the engine roared to life. "Move the spark advance lever downward and reduce throttle speed by moving the lever upward. This evens the engine out – if you don't adjust these levers, you won't have enough power, and you'll be wasting a lot of fuel, besides."
"What should one do, if the engine hasn't started?" Jane asked, her head swimming as she tried to absorb these instructions.
Jim pointed to a button next to the three pedals on the floor. "One should step on the starter."
Jane wished she had thought to bring a notepad and pencil as she asked yet another question, "And what do those three pedals do, again?"
"Brake, reverse, clutch," Jim replied, motioning from right to left. "The clutch is used in conjunction with the handbrake lever. The car has two gears, low and high. I'll show you how to get to both." He moved the handbrake forward until it was perpendicular to the floor and stepped on the clutch. As the car lurched forward, he pushed the throttle downward to accelerate. When the engine protested, he eased the spark advance lever downward, until it was purring once more. Once they had built up enough speed in low gear, he moved the handbrake forward as far as it would go and took his foot off the clutch.
For a few exhilarating minutes, they careened swiftly along the country roads in high gear, going quite a bit faster than the ten-miles-per-hour speed limit imposed within the confines of River City. Although the wind was making a complete mess of her hair, Jane reveled in the feeling of absolute abandon. She'd anticipated a lot of bouncing and jouncing over the unpaved roads, which they would have suffered in a buggy, but as Jim had remarked earlier, Mr. Ford knew what he was doing. The ride was so unexpectedly smooth that it was almost like flying – or rather, the way she'd always imagined flying to be. While the assistant librarian had read all about how actual flight was now possible, this would most likely be the closest she'd ever get to being in an airplane. And this was more than enough for her, especially when she was sitting next to the man she loved, who was grinning gleefully as her as they sped along.
But the responsible schoolteacher was never truly left behind, which was one of the things she loved most about him. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he cried, pulling the throttle upward to decelerate so his words wouldn't be drowned out by the wind. Once he had eased back into low gear, he explained, "We'll want to switch the key to magneto to save our battery."
Jane was far too engrossed in the novelty of driving to be disappointed by their loss of speed. "That's magnets attached to the flywheel of the engine?" she asked, wanting to be sure she recalled the details correctly.
Jim beamed at her. "You really are one of a kind, you know that, dearest?"
The history was looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and pepper her face with kisses. Though she would have wholeheartedly welcomed this course of action if they had been strolling along arm in arm, ensconced in a dim corner of the library, or sitting next to each other in a horse-drawn buggy, on this occasion she demurred, thinking it prudent not to take too much of his concentration from the road ahead.
But to her surprise – and admittedly, delight – it seemed that Jim was intent on flirting with her. "I apologize there was no better place for the picnic basket than on your lap. Although I suppose it's better on your lap than on the bench between us." His knee nudged her thigh.
Jane giggled and nudged him back, even as she still refused to look at him. He needed both his hands for driving and, as they were presently passing through a knot of trees, she didn't want to risk a crash. However, as disinclined as she was to be a distraction, Jim's proximity certainly hadn't escaped her, either. Admittedly, they weren't hitting quite so many bumps in this patch of woods as their knocking knees seemed to indicate, and it wasn't the history teacher's knee doing all of the knocking, either.
Smothering another giggle, Jane chanced a sidelong glance at Jim. His eyes were riveted to the road, but he was no fool, especially when it came to discerning her true feelings. "Next time, I'll rent a car with a backseat. Squires' Livery has just recently gotten in a very nice 1924 Tudor sedan. It has quite the roomy backseat, indeed."
At that, Jane felt that delicious jolt in the pit of her stomach, and she had to look directly at Jim. Though his smile was as affable as ever, his eyes twinkled impishly at her when their gazes briefly met.
Far from offended, the assistant librarian wanted nothing more than to fire back a saucy rejoinder. However, to her chagrin, she could think of absolutely nothing to say as Jim turned his attention back to the road. Still, she refused to conceal her ardor behind a display of maidenly modesty, and regarded the history teacher with an expression of frank invitation. When Jim glanced at her again, his breath caught and he looked thoroughly beguiled.
Having made her point, Jane turned her face back to the breeze streaming through the open window and smiled triumphantly to herself. As they left the trees behind and made their way through an open field, Jim adjusted the spark advance lever and throttle until the engine once again purred like a fat and contented cat. Now that the terrain was even and unencumbered and the car continued to move along at a steady and pleasant pace, he found a far better use for his right hand than fiddling with levers. His fingers gently came to rest on the top of Jane's knee and then, when she urged him on with the most encouraging of smiles, stroked it with unabashed confidence as they drove along in a silence that somehow managed to be both companionable and electric.
XXX
Jane's knee was still tingling, even after Jim removed his hand to navigate the car carefully over the marshy paths approaching the lake. That was an entirely new caress for her, one she had never imagined was an erotic possibility. William certainly never touched her that way, not even in her dreams. Though she prided herself on not being an entirely inexperienced greenhorn when it came to romance, she couldn't help being amazed by how pleasant and, well, stimulating this seemingly unremarkable gesture was. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so exhilarating in William's day, when dresses were thicker and fell to the ankles, and ladies' knees were cocooned by layers of undergarments. But with the raised hemlines and lack of petticoats nowadays, it would have been exceedingly easy for Jim to slip his hand beneath the fabric of her skirt and caress her stockinged leg. However, even the midst of heated flirtation, the history teacher remained the consummate gentleman and did not attempt to venture where he was not expressly invited. Though the idea of his caressing her just beneath her hemline was more exciting than frightening, Jane was not ready to encourage such daring exploration. So while Jim's fingers languidly traced the sides of her knee and ever so slightly up her thigh, he never crossed what she would consider the reasonable bounds of propriety for a courting couple their age. Undoubtedly, her standards were growing laxer by the day, but she could hardly contemplate marrying a man and giving herself completely to him as soon as the minister pronounced them husband and wife if she didn't gradually welcome more and more of his touch over the course of their courtship.
Jane was so lost in her daydreams that it barely registered when Jim stopped the car in a secluded clearing by a brook, switched off the engine, and pulled back the handbrake. It wasn't until he gave her knee a little squeeze that she was brought fully back to her senses. "We're here," he announced.
Though she resolutely ignored the warmth spreading across her cheeks – as well as in the far less visible parts of her body – she was too flummoxed by their unexpected surroundings not to blurt, "I thought we were going to the lake?"
"We're very close – this is one of the many rivulets that feed into it," he said, his tone a touch sheepish. But when he turned to her and took his hands in hers, his gaze was solemnly resolute. "I've been planning to invite you someplace private for a while now, to talk. And I do mean talk. We're long overdue for this conversation."
Jane gaped at him, her heart beating even more wildly than it had when he caressed her knee. While they had easily and frequently traded reminiscences about their childhoods during the course of their long conversations, there was still a great deal they didn't yet know about each other. One subject they had both tactfully refrained from examining and dissecting in detail – outside of the night they came to an understanding on the footbridge – was that of their first loves. While Jim could not entirely avoid mentioning Louisa Grace – Jane just could not bring herself to use the casually intimate sobriquet "Gracie" even in the privacy of her own mind, and he'd never corrected her when she referred to his late wife by her full Christian name – he only told lighthearted stories where his late wife was concerned, and she was never the main character in any of them, even though so much of his life had been entwined with hers. Given that her own romance had been illicit, ill-fated and brief, Jane never spoke of William at all.
Most likely, Jim was planning to reveal some secret about his romantic past. While the idea admittedly made her nervous, Jane was convinced that whatever tales the history teacher had to tell wouldn't be as torrid as Professor Hill's erstwhile exploits were rumored to be… although it did further reassure her that despite the music professor's previous dalliances before coming to River City, he'd proved as upstanding a citizen and devoted a husband as one could ever wish to hold up as an example of a successful reformation. And given that the assistant librarian's own romantic past was not spotless, it would have been terribly uncharitable – not to mention hypocritical – to disparage any lack of decorum the man she loved was courageous enough to confess to her.
"I look forward to our conversation," Jane said, confidently meeting Jim's eyes.
He broke into a relieved grin. "I hope you don't find me too cunning, dearest, that I had more serious matters in mind for this afternoon than a lighthearted picnic." His smile faded. "Ever since Gracie died, I've had no confidante. I've grown too used to keeping my own counsel, and I want to change that." He swallowed and tightened his grip on her hands. "I need to change that."
"Well, I'm happy to talk to you about anything you wish to tell me," she reassured him in a calm voice that belied the pounding of her heart. "Anything and everything!"
Jim beamed at her again, and was leaning in to kiss her when her stomach rudely decided to interject itself into the conversation by producing an audible growl.
To Jane's chagrin, the history teacher ruefully backed off and let go of her hands. "I suppose some lunch is in order, first?"
When her stomach immediately rumbled again, as if in agreement, Jane had to nod, just as ruefully.
XXX
Ever efficient, Jim spread out a thick woolen blanket under a towering oak tree about twenty feet from the brook, and laid out a delectable spread in less than five minutes after the two of them had exited the car. The fare was simple but hearty – roast beef sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, Spanish pickles, fresh peaches, lemonade – and Jane lost no time tucking into the excellent meal the history teacher had procured for them. Normally, she would have been embarrassed by her own voraciousness, but Jim seemed equally famished, so they did not attempt even the barest of small talk as they ate.
As soon as she had eaten enough to take the sharpest edge off her hunger, Jane observed their surroundings with greater attention. It was indeed a beautiful little meadow Jim had chosen for their tête-à-tête, close enough to the lake to be grazed on by the local livestock with some regularity, but surrounded by a protective curtain of trees and foliage that hid any occupants from sight of other sunbathers and swimmers. They weren't likely to be disturbed by anyone here. Jane's curious mind couldn't help wondering, without jealousy, how often Jim had gone on these kinds of picnics with Louisa Grace. On their way here, he'd casually mentioned enjoying car rides through the Kansas countryside with his first wife, which was how he'd gotten so good at driving in the first place.
Jane knew she should have been content to simply admire the glories of nature in this private alcove with the man she loved. But like an insatiable child, her wayward spirit yearned for more than to just look sedately at everything, as a spinster ought. The day was growing steadily hotter and the brook babbled far too prettily and invitingly to be considered a mere backdrop for their date. It would have been so easy for her to slip off her shoes and stockings for a refreshing wade, something her fastidiously proper aunt had not allowed her to do since she was a girl of ten. But that was absolutely out of the question. She suspected that Jim wouldn't be at all offended by the sight of her bare legs and feet, and that's precisely what worried her. While he would never dream of pressing his advantage, she mustn't entice him too much, when they were alone together so far away from the moralizing effect of civilization.
Besides, they still had a great deal of talking to do. Jane gave Jim a sidelong glance. Like her, he had begun to eat with less gusto, but his attention was not focused on their surroundings. Instead, it seemed to be turned wholly inward – his brow was furrowed and his gaze was pensive and distant. It was a familiar expression, one that she saw often when he was engrossed in his work at the library. Normally, she loved watching the history teacher deep in concentration, finding his quiet intensity tremendously endearing. But today, her heart fluttered with apprehension as she wondered just what it was that he was trying to figure out how best to tell her, and what phrases he was so carefully turning over in his astute and able mind.
The most atrocious notion came, unbidden, to Jane's mind. This was by far the most alone together they'd ever been in their entire acquaintance, and there was a keen intensity blazing in Jim's eyes she'd never seen before. Suppose he wasn't the mild-mannered history teacher and scholar of the ancient world he'd presented himself as? She had a vision of Jim telling her with cold delight all the wicked things he was planning to do to her, now that he'd finally gotten her alone after spending the past year painstakingly earning her trust… until Constable Locke, Professor Hill, and Miss Marian burst into their alcove just in the nick of time, revealing the nefarious crimes he'd committed in his previous travels and explaining that it was the quietly observant Marcellus Washburn who'd been savvy enough to put two and two together while Jim was renting the car at the livery and tip everyone off…
Oh, for heaven's sake, stop being so ridiculous! her rational mind reasserted herself. Her silly little fantasy was right out of the most lurid dime novel she'd ever stumbled upon as an overly curious teenager. It had been many years since Jane had read such rubbish and, though she couldn't recall the title of the book, she'd never forgotten the dastardly tale or the unwelcome shivers it sent down her spine for quite some time afterward. The villain of the story was a clever, charming and diabolical conman who wandered from town to town, wooing lonely and naïve spinsters. Once he'd gained their friendship and love, he'd take them to remote locations for picnics, make the most scandalous love to them, and strangle them to death. Afterward, he'd flee with whatever material goods and inheritances he'd managed to wheedle out of them. Once the money was frittered away on various wanton pursuits, he'd go to another town, find another woman, and do it all over again. What frightened Jane most was that it wasn't just wealth this conman was after – first and foremost, he'd taken malicious pleasure in ravishing and inducing terror in these unfortunate spinsters – and not always in that exact order! He'd managed to murder sixteen spinsters over the course of a decade before he was finally apprehended in the most dramatic way possible. A long-time family friend who silently carried a torch for the conman's latest conquest did some digging and managed to make the gruesome discovery the same day as the lady blithely went on her fateful picnic. Fortunately, the hero was able to deduce exactly where the conman had taken her and alert the police, and they reached the secluded meadow just as the villain was about to deflower the lady and finish her off. While the story ended happily enough – the conman was shot and killed, while the hero and his beloved ended up married – Jane had been so upset by it that she pledged never to read another dime novel again, which was just as well, as her aunt and uncle had banned her from reading these types of books, anyway.
You know perfectly well you're in more danger of Jim pulling you into his lap for a knee-weakening kiss than of him being a mass murderer of spinsters! And given that he was an impeccable gentleman, that type of heated flirtation was highly unlikely to occur. Jane blushed as she remembered some humorously indecent advice to young girls that she had come across in The Day Book not long after renouncing dime novels: "Never sit on a young man's lap unless you receive an invitation. To act otherwise is considered rather forward in the best society if you are less than thirty years old. If you are beyond that age, naturally desperate measures may sometimes be necessary." While Jane may have been solidly over thirty, she certainly wasn't that desperate. But if the mild-mannered history teacher did issue such an invitation, she wouldn't have turned him down.
Really, she must curb her wayward woolgathering! If Jim offered her a penny for her thoughts, she would start rambling nonsense until she'd somehow blurted out her ludicrous musings in the most graceless manner possible. And she wasn't sure which of her feverish fancies embarrassed her more – imagining one of the most upstanding men she had ever known to be the worst kind of fiend, or realizing just how eagerly she would have accepted an invitation to sit in his lap.
When Jim finally came out of his own contemplations, brushed the crumbs from his fingers, and turned toward her, he didn't quite meet her eyes with his. Jane got the uneasy sense her face could have been blue with red stripes and he wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary. And when he furtively removed a handkerchief-wrapped bundle from his pocket, his hand shook slightly as he passed it to her.
"I wanted to show this to you," he said, his voice as quiet and grave as she'd ever heard it.
Forgetting her own discomfort in the face of this enticing mystery, Jane carefully unfolded the handkerchief. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a miniature portrait, exquisitely done in watercolors, of a beautiful young woman. Her wavy auburn hair was twisted into a romantic updo that was the height of fashion in the teens, and a delicate smattering of freckles sprinkled her nose and cheeks. The look in her wide blue eyes was kind but guarded, as if she would compassionately hear your secrets while carefully shielding her own. Her figure was petite but not boyishly angular, and the way she carried herself suggested an enviably innate and unassuming elegance.
"Is this Louisa Grace?" Jane breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the painting.
"Yes, this was her anniversary present to me," Jim confirmed. "To celebrate the first year of our marriage."
Jane had often wondered what Louisa Grace looked like, and if there were any physical similarities between herself and Jim's first wife. Now that her curiosity had been sated, she wasn't certain whether she was flattered or chagrined by this knowledge – apparently, he could not have fallen in love with more dissimilar women! Truly, Louisa Grace was as lovely as Miss Marian, who was effortlessly leagues above the clumsy and frizzle-haired assistant librarian, and always would be. Although Jane longed to be reassured she was no mere consolation prize, she wasn't about to impose her frivolous insecurities on the man she loved, who was still looking askance at her as if he was uncertain of her – or himself.
Hiding her sense of pique, she sympathetically observed, "You must miss her terribly."
Jim swallowed thickly. "I do."
Her heart hurting for him, but not knowing what she could possibly say to alleviate his pain, Jane covered the miniature portrait and handed it back. To her surprise, he laid it in the picnic basket instead of returning it to the inner pocket of his suit-coat, and took her hands in his.
"Jane," he began, still not quite looking straight at her, "please don't take this as proof that I love you with anything less than my whole heart. But sometimes – sometimes I miss Gracie so much that it hurts to breathe."
She understood – oh, how she understood! "Why, of course you do," she said, giving his trembling hands a firm squeeze. "I've missed William exactly that way."
Although Jim looked somewhat mollified by her response, he shook his head. "Now that I have you, it doesn't seem right to still hurt so much over the past." His eyes fully met hers, and she saw abashed skepticism in them. "Do you still miss William that much?"
Jane steadily met his imploring gaze. "My dearest of Jims," she said gently, "my loss was over fifteen years ago. Your loss is only two years old. And there was so much more between you and Louisa Grace to miss than there ever could have been between me and William."
The ardent look he gave her warmed her from head to toe. "Do you know, dearest of Janes, when I realized – really realized – that I was in love with you? I know I told you before that I couldn't turn my head away the moment I first saw you shelving books in Madison Public Library, but it took me awhile to recognize my feelings for what they truly were. I had never been so swiftly smitten by any woman, not even Gracie – we started out as inseparable childhood chums who gradually realized we were in love as we grew older – so I chalked up my reaction to you as superficial infatuation arising from sheer loneliness. It took me a week to calm down enough to introduce myself, as the last thing I wanted to do was frighten you with the intensity of my attraction. I didn't intend to marry again after losing Gracie, and I had no wish to lead you on in any way. All I wanted – or thought I wanted, anyway – was a friend to make my days less dreary. But about three months after making your acquaintance, I reached a point where it was no longer possible to delude myself. One night last November, as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about – forgive the indelicacy – how much I wanted you there with me. It wasn't enough to say goodbye to you at the library each night and go our separate ways. I wanted to walk home with you, to continue our talks long into the night, to feel you curled around me in bed, the two of us sharing much more with each other than engaging conversation – " He abruptly quieted and blushed.
Jane, who'd been spellbound by Jim's every word, felt only disappointment when he stopped short of candidly revealing the full measure of his longing for her. This was not the first time she had fallen head over heels in love, but it was the first time she was able to wholeheartedly enjoy it. She had never been able to revel in William's desire, as any exultant feelings were overshadowed by the deep-seated guilt of knowing how inappropriate their love for each other was. But when Jim confessed the full depth of his feelings for her, she not only felt gorgeous and desirable and loved, but also delight that she was doing nothing wrong in encouraging him further.
"I will never forget that lovely compliment you paid me last November," she said fondly, "praising my clever mind and scrupulous attention to detail. Did you tell me that before or after you fully realized the extent of your feelings?"
"It was the very next morning," he said with a renewed confidence that made her heart beat even faster. "From that day on, I started paying very close attention to you. Your behavior was scrupulously polite and disinterested, but your eyes weren't. It was quite a challenge trying to ascertain whether my advances were welcome or not."
Although he was smiling, Jane looked away, her conscience chiding her for both her earlier aloofness and her more recent doubt of his love for her. "It must have been maddening, to have such strong feelings and not know whether you would ever be able to express them. How could you even bear to fall in love again, after such a terrible loss?"
Jim gently turned her face back to his. "I've been fortunate enough to experience the best and most sublime of love – physically, emotionally and spiritually. With Gracie, there was never any uncertainty as to our mutual regard and certainly no familial or societal objections to our marrying. While losing her was the worst experience of my life, I reaped far more joy than sorrow from loving her. So when I realized that my feelings for you were more than infatuation, I looked forward to the day you would hopefully reciprocate them." He smoothed a loose curl from her cheek. "You, on the other hand, have had the most wretched of experiences with romance. Your feelings weren't supposed to be, would not have been sanctioned by your family or society, and could not have been consummated without the gravest of consequences. You reaped far more bitterness than pleasure from love. Is it any wonder you shied away when you once again felt those treacherous stirrings for a man?" He caressed another curl. "You're the brave one for daring to love a second time, Jane. Every day, I'm amazed and grateful that you've let me into your heart, and I will never, ever take your love for granted."
In all her wildest imaginings, Jane had never envisioned a suitor saying such things to her. But Jim's insightful yet compassionate understanding of why she'd pushed him away was the most romantic declaration she ever could have wished for. When she blinked and a few tears rolled down her cheeks, he lovingly smoothed those away, too. And she let him – for the first time in her life, she was not embarrassed to let a man see her cry openly.
But it seemed that Jim still felt as though he had something to be embarrassed about – he averted his gaze as he reached into a picnic basket and brought out a small bottle with a faded label. His hands once again shaking, he passed the vial to Jane. Squinting, she made out the words Veronal Reg. Trade Mark Brand of Deithylbarbituric Acid. Descriptive Name: Barbitone.
Jane had never heard of this substance before. She glanced questioningly at Jim.
"After Gracie died, I retreated into myself," he said. "My family, friends and students marveled at my outward composure… at least, at first. Inside, I was a complete wreck. The nights were the worst – long and dark and lonely. The bed was too empty, the house too still. I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat. A man can't function this way indefinitely. But I managed to keep up the charade that I was doing just fine for a good six months, before my mask of equanimity shattered. I started snapping at people at the slightest provocation. Friends and acquaintances started to give me worried looks, and my students began to regard me with fearful glances. When I collapsed in the middle of class one day, I was ordered by the dean of my department to either visit the doctor or tender my resignation. I chose the former." He frowned contemptuously. "The doctor thought my problems stemmed from not being able to sleep. So he prescribed me Veronal, a barbiturate for insomnia."
"Did it work?" Jane asked.
Jim sighed wistfully. "A little too well. I experienced the best sleep I'd had since Gracie got ill. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to sleep that soundly. The medicine lasted a good, solid week before the insomnia started to creep back in." He swallowed, and his voice grew heavy. "I was still grieving, deeply and privately. I just couldn't move past the idea that Gracie was gone forever when nearly everywhere I looked and every place I went, there were memories of her. Sometimes, in my madder moods, I fancied that she was lingering just out of the corner of my vision – I even smelled her soap. Little wonder I couldn't sleep! I'm not opposed to taking medicine on principle, but as the effects of Veronal proved to be extremely potent, the potential for poisoning or addiction made me uneasy. I had read that prolonged use of this sleeping aid led to developing a tolerance, and could require increased doses to maintain the same effectiveness. So out of caution, I decided to wait until I was nearly overwhelmed with exhaustion before resorting to medicinal assistance. After nearly a month had passed, I was in danger of keeling over again, so I deemed enough time had gone by, and took another dose. It worked, and I went about my business until the next month, when I needed yet another dose to prevent collapse. This awful cycle continued every month, and even though I noticed I was indeed developing a tolerance because the effects were wearing off sooner and sooner, I absolutely refused to increase my dosage or frequency of use."
He paused and swallowed again. "But then, after five months of this cat-and-mouse game with myself, I had grown so deranged and desperate for tranquility that I recklessly doubled the dose, and was insensate for three days. Fortunately, it was the summer, so I didn't miss any school. But when I finally woke up, I felt no relief from my exhaustion or grief. Not only was I repulsed by my intemperate recklessness, I realized that it was almost August. Gracie had been gone for nearly a whole year, and I was still missing her just as keenly as if she'd only died yesterday. I didn't know how on earth I was going get through that dreadful anniversary. Either Veronal or insomnia was going to be the death of me… " He trailed off and buried his face in his hands.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Jane laid the nasty little bottle down on the blanket, scooted closer to Jim, and patted his shaking shoulders. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that all alone. Did no one look in on you?"
Jim shook his head. "Gracie was all I really had, in terms of family. My parents were dead, I was an only child, and I wasn't close enough to anyone else to let them see the full extent of my grief. I didn't want anyone's pity – or worse, their censure when they found out how unbalanced I truly was. I couldn't trust anyone to keep my secrets, and if word got out I could have lost my job." His shoulders stilled, though he kept his head down and his face in his hands. "I swore off Veronal completely after that incident. Naturally, the insomnia returned. I honestly don't know how I managed to retain my sanity. One day, I was walking by the freight depot as a train approached, and the thought struck me of just how simple, how easy it would be to solve both my insomnia and my grief by stepping out onto the tracks. At that precise moment, as I was seriously considering the idea, an acquaintance hailed me, stunning me out of my stupor. If he hadn't been there to greet me, I might just have followed that mad, fateful impulse of my unhinged mind – " He broke off and shuddered.
By now, Jane's arm was solidly around his shoulders, and she steadied him as best she could. "I'm glad he was there."
He exhaled shakily. "So am I. Because that's when I finally realized I had to leave Gloriosa. I quit my job, sold my house and most of my possessions, and came to River City. Of course, that dull ache of loneliness didn't go away, but it was far more bearable when there weren't reminders of Gracie everywhere to torment me. And it was much better to be lonely among strangers who didn't know me than strangers who thought they did."
Being familiar with both sets of circumstances, herself, Jane murmured her agreement. But as Jim took out a handkerchief and composed himself, she glanced uneasily at the bottle of Veronal glinting in the sun. Perhaps she ought not to have pried when the history teacher was in such a brittle state, but she was never a great one for tact. And she needed to know just as much as he needed to tell her. "Jim… if you swore off Veronal for good, then why is there a bottle of it here now?"
"Ah yes, I was getting to that," he said sheepishly. "Although I tore up my script, I couldn't bring myself to dump my remaining bottle. So I brought it with me to Iowa. Just for emergencies, I told myself." Jim raised his head and looked her directly in the eye. While there was deep shame in his gaze, there was also a firm determination that heartened her. "After the first night or two of getting used to a strange bed and new rooms, I had no trouble falling asleep. There were no memories except for a few sentimental vestiges I had brought with me – like the painting I just showed you – and those were tucked safely away in a trunk. They couldn't assail me without warning when I turned a street corner or lay in bed – I could completely control when and how long I was exposed to them. And I didn't take them out often, because the challenge of planning a curriculum and the novelty of learning my way around a completely new town occupied my mind." He took her hands in his. "And then I met you. My life was too pleasantly filled with teaching, scholarly pursuits, and our friendship to need the assistance of barbiturates to blunt my grief enough to fall asleep at night."
Jim's shoulders slumped, and his gaze fell from hers. "But the one reminder I couldn't control or escape was the calendar. In the week leading up to the anniversary of Gracie's death last year, I didn't sleep a wink. I had to do something before I went down that path again. So I took a dose as midnight approached and passed August 18th blissfully unaware of what day it was. No one noticed my absence, of course," he said matter-of-factly, without a trace of bitterness.
Jane reflected, with a prick of guilt, that she certainly hadn't noticed anything amiss. Although she couldn't possibly have been expected to be so familiar with him at the time, it pained her that he'd suffered this agony without so much as a friend to comfort him.
To her further dismay, Jim covered his face with his hands again. "The week I thought you would never return my love and that my foolish behavior had both made me a town laughingstock and ruined our friendship, I seriously contemplated taking a double dose again. Fortunately, sanity prevailed and I took only as little as I needed to sleep."
Jane couldn't remain silent at that. The idea that not one, but nearly two men had killed themselves over losing her was too much to bear. "I'm not worth suicide!" she cried. When Jim looked up in alarmed anguish, she explained in a trembling voice, "William drank himself to death only a year after our summer together. He used brandy to blunt his pain, back when it was perfectly legal to do so. I know because I had seen him do it after he had a bad argument with his wife. After his passing, his dean informed me he died of cirrhosis. After looking it up, I realized what must have happened." She tried to swallow away the lump that came into her throat. "And I knew it was all my fault – "
"No, Jane," Jim said more vehemently than he had ever spoken to her. As she goggled at him, his expression softened. "That was his decision to seek liquid comfort, and from what it sounds like, it was a habit that he formed long before he met you. And if I had been so stupid as to have followed in his footsteps – well, that would have been my decision, and mine alone." That magnificent gleam of determination entered his eyes again. "But enough is enough. Today, I'm going to destroy my last bottle of Veronal. Which is why I brought it with me, so you could watch me do it." Swiftly retrieving the bottle, he uncorked it and dumped the remaining Veronal on the grass. For good measure, he got to his feet and hurled the empty vial into the brook. Then he reclaimed his spot next to her on the blanket, and the two of them watched the bottle float harmlessly downstream.
Although such a concrete demonstration of sincerity went a long way in calming her trepidation about the matter, Jane glanced at Jim with some lingering apprehension. "But what will you do when you need something to help you sleep next August?"
"Strictly speaking, I don't need Veronal to sleep," he said. "I'm not physically addicted to it. When I first went 'cold turkey' as they say, I didn't experience any bodily complaints – well, none apart from the usual insomnia. But psychologically, I'm dangerously susceptible to Veronal's allure. I don't crave it when things are going well." His shoulders sagged as the resolve went out of him. "But when life seems endlessly bleak, and there's no one to talk to, it's the only thing that's there."
"It's the only thing that's left," she murmured, thinking of William.
"Jane," he said, grasping her hands and caressing them as he spoke, "I've wanted to tell you about this for so long. But I wasn't sure if it would be unfair to burden you with my" – he paused as if trying to think of just the right word, though whether he was too overcome with exhaustion or emotion to proceed with his usual adroitness of language, she couldn't tell which – "troubles."
Jane squeezed his hands and lifted them to her lips. "I want to share your burdens, Jim. Your sorrows as well as your joys."
"Oh, Jane," he sighed as she gently kissed his fingers, "I wasn't expecting the anniversary of Gracie's death to hit me so hard this year. I thought my new life with you would have resolved my anniversary-induced insomnia. But even though you and I had come to an understanding, I still felt very much alone in some ways. I couldn't admit even to myself how much I still missed her sometimes, because I felt that to do so would somehow diminish the significance of what we have together." His hands started to shake again. "In all honesty, I turned to Veronal instead of you on August eighteenth because I was afraid you wouldn't love me any longer if you knew how flawed and weak I truly was… "
Now it was Jane's turn to be vehement. Rising to her knees, she placed her hands on his cheeks and brought him to look at her. "You are not weak, James Robert Hearst. You can't be, to survive that kind of sorrow. And I do love you very much. Never doubt that. And never doubt that you deserve happiness. If anything, you're long overdue for some. Next August, if you can't fall asleep, come look for me. I will spend the entire night awake with you, if you need me to – "
Jim pulled her into a fierce hug and his mouth quickly found hers. Normally, no matter how passionate their kisses were, there was always an element of careful meticulousness in Jim's embrace. But this embrace was sheer, sloppy need, not just for him, but for her, too – Jane was making sure of Jim just as much as he was of her.
When they finally parted, Jane was still a bit surprised to find that not only was she ensconced in Jim's lap, but also that his arms were wrapped tightly around her hips and his hands were practically on her backside. Now that both of them had returned to their senses, they quickly – though regrettably – moved apart. As Jane arranged herself into a more ladylike position and smoothed the creases in her dress, she remembered Miss Marian's recommendation to wear something that didn't wrinkle or stain too easily – and the blithe blush in the librarian's countenance as she imparted this advice. It was wisdom Jane heeded regardless of whether or not she was anticipating outdoor canoodling. However, the reigning fashions for outdoor picnics and parties made it rather difficult for even sedate ladies to remain perfectly tidy. Whereas Jane's workaday suits were gabardine and chambray – durable fabrics in sensible shades of blue and gray to hide the dust and dirt she encountered in the course of her duties – today she wore her linen lawn dress. While there was no saving the skirt from wrinkling, she took comfort in the fact that any grass stains would be concealed by its sage green hue – no white for her! Her hair was completely unsalvageable, but as it was messy more often than not, she didn't bother about that.
"Shall we take a little walk?" Jim asked, standing up and offering her his hand. Though his eyes were red-rimmed, his hair and suit looked just as pristine as they did before their long conversation. Jane would have asked him how he managed to remain so unruffled while she looked like she'd been through a cyclone, but she was blushing too much to speak without her voice trembling – not with embarrassment, but longing. And it certainly didn't help matters that she saw the exact same yearning mirrored in the history teacher's gaze as he helped her to her feet.
Yet in addition to the danger of being carried away by their more sensual feelings, there was also a wonderful new sense of comfort between them. Jim easily wrapped his arm around her waist, and she just as easily leaned into his embrace as they walked around the meadow. They couldn't have picked a lovelier day for a picnic. While it was hot in the sun despite the breeze from the brook, it was pleasant to feel the wind in the shade, and the two of them came to a standstill beneath the branches of their spreading oak tree as they continued to take in the beauty around them. It was Jane's favorite kind of sky – puffy white cumulus clouds against an unspoiled blue backdrop. As a little girl, she used to imagine these clouds were faraway, floating cities filled with the souls of heaven looking down upon those they'd loved on earth, and if she prayed hard enough, her spirit could travel to visit them when she dreamed. Sometimes, in her lonelier moments, she even fancied she had dream-met the couple in the colorized photograph she used to sneak into her aunt's spotless, no-children-allowed parlor to stare at – a handsome, bespectacled young man with kind, twinkling blue eyes and a gray-eyed, curly-haired woman who looked like a more elegant and grownup version of her.
Blinking away fresh tears – it wouldn't do to overshadow Jim's sorrow with her own – Jane turned her attention away from the heavens. Closer to earth, the meadow was filled with delightful bursts of color to enthrall the senses – intricate white puffs of Queen Anne's lace, tall yellow goldenrod and purple blazingstars, stately pink wild roses, and a whole host of other wildflowers she did not know the names of – she would have to find a book in the library sometime.
But when Jane caught sight of Jim's tie, which was charmingly askew, the sky and the clouds and the wildflowers and even the inviting brook ceased to beguile her. When she straightened his knot, Jim was likewise riveted, catching her fingers in his and kissing them sweetly.
"William used to do that," she blurted, before she could think better of it.
Fortunately, Jim regarded her with an impish grin. "And what else did William do that I have to live up to?"
"Oh, there's no comparing you and William!" she laughed. "That would be like comparing classical music to ragtime."
"Which type of music would I be?" he asked, intrigued.
"Mozart," she said, after a moment of thought. "You're brilliant, refined and elegant, with a delightful sense of whimsy."
Jim's flirtatious smirk softened into a flattered smile. "And William?"
"Beethoven," Jane said promptly, having anticipated this question. "Also brilliant, but loud. Passionate. Thundering. Temperamental."
Jim mused wonderingly over this, before offering, "Gracie would have been Chopin. Softer and more restrained, with surprising but delightful bursts of passion and intensity."
Jane's brow quirked. "And I?"
That deliciously naughty twinkle stole back into his gaze. "You're Vivaldi. Spirited and passionate, with an underlying elegance. Cheerful even in the midst of melancholy." One of his hands squeezed hers while the other cupped her cheek. "I love to watch you going about your business at the library. Whenever I see you, I just want to – " He broke off and swallowed hard.
"Want to what?" she breathed, tingling from head to toe.
As if he'd been waiting for her to say that for months – and perhaps he had – Jim immediately leaned in and pressed his mouth to her ear. After giving her lobe a teasing nibble, which made her giggle and nestle into his waiting arms, his caresses grew very serious, indeed. Gently tracing the outline of her ear with his lips, he then moved down the line of her jaw. Jane stood there utterly transfixed, both shivering and burning as he proceeded to give her the most exquisite open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck. When Jim's lips traced the hollow of her throat, her knees nearly buckled. Though she wasn't in the slightest danger of being marked by his feather-light touch, her skin would be feeling his mouth for days afterward.
When Jim finally lifted his head to look at her, she was gasping as hard as if he'd kissed the breath out of her, and perspiration was beading on her forehead. She eyed the brook longingly. They'd already flouted propriety quite a bit, and it was such a sweltering day…
Jim's gaze followed hers. "Carpe diem," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "I won't look until you tell me it's all right."
When he gallantly turned away, Jane lost no time in slipping off her shoes, unclasping her garters, and rolling down her stockings. The sun was still broiling when she stepped out from under the oak tree, but the breeze felt wonderful on her bare legs. Surveying the brook, she determined with disappointment that the slope was too steep for wading, and was about to abandon her foolish inclination when she spotted a sturdy rock ledge jutting out over the bank. Taking a seat, she carefully slipped her feet into the water. It was colder than she expected, but it felt wonderful all the same. Leaning back on her hands, she closed her eyes and sighed happily as the rivulet rushed over her toes.
Jane wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there enjoying herself when there was a small splash next to her. Opening her eyes, she saw that Jim had not only removed his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants, he'd also taken off his suit-coat and tie.
"I hope you don't mind if I join you," he said courteously. "It was getting awfully hot under that tree."
The only embarrassment Jane felt was on account of selfishly hogging the water instead of letting him know when she was decent – well, decent as she could be, under the circumstances. "Of course not!"
As their legs dangled in the water, occasionally brushing as the current pushed them together, Jim's arm circled her waist, and she laid her head on his shoulder. The silence between them was lovely and perfect.
Jane broke it, anyway. "I can't believe it took me so long to realize just how much I love you."
He gave her a squeeze. "Better late than never," he said, sounding more supremely content with life than she had ever heard him.
After that, Jane must have nodded off, for the next thing she remembered was Jim kissing her gently out of her dreamy doze. "It's time to go back, dearest – we've got to return the car to Squires' Livery by five o'clock or they'll charge extra."
Jane didn't protest. The sun had gone behind a cloud, her feet were chilled, and she was getting hungry for supper. Under the pretense of packing up the picnic basket, she admired Jim's bare legs as he put on his socks and fastened his garters. When she finally turned away to roll up her own stockings, she felt him sneaking looks at her, too. Though her aunt would most likely have had the vapors at such loose behavior, she felt deliciously wicked and right. Although she still wasn't quite ready for a man to make love to her, she knew she'd shed a great deal of her spinsterish reticence this afternoon – not just physically, but emotionally. And what's more, she never wanted to go back to it. Not with this man. By telling her everything he had, Jim had let her into his soul.
And she would do the same, in return. As they circled the lake in the Ford once more before heading back to town, Jane told him all about her cherished cloud-city imaginings, falling asleep on her aunt's parlor floor missing the parents she'd never known, her guardians' ban on wading and dime novels, and her hope that she could someday learn to swim. Not only did Jim promise to teach her how to swim someday, his hand rested openly on her knee whenever he didn't need it to drive. She was sorry when they finally had to exit the car at Squires' Livery, but when she caught the history teacher gazing wistfully at the 1924 Tudor sedan with the roomy backseat right along with her, she knew today certainly wouldn't be their last car date.
Though their decorum was impeccable at supper and their conversation consisted of the normal academic subjects, Jane's heart and stomach fluttered pleasantly at the knowledge of how once again, things had utterly changed between them. All her lovely, girlhood dreams of a future that she had not thought possible were coming even closer to realization.
That evening, when Jim walked her to the door of her boarding house, he did not take his leave with a mere handclasp. Instead, he brought Jane to the corner of the porch where the shadows were darkest and kissed her goodnight, long and sweetly – and did this exact same thing when they parted every single night afterward.