'Who talks of cadeaux?' said he, gruffly: 'did you expect a present, Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?' and he searched my face with eyes that I saw were dark, irate, and piercing.

'I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they are generally thought pleasant things.'

'Generally thought? But what do you think?'

'I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you an answer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it, has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion as to its nature.'

~Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

XXX

December 23, 1925

This being the first year they were a proper couple, Jane was determined to do all she could to give Jim a warm and happy Christmas. Last year, she had not pondered the history teacher's holiday plans, and now that she realized how lonely the season must have been for him, she felt terrible for not doing more than wishing him a blithe yet indifferent "Merry Christmas!" at the close of the library before the holiday. Although, given that she was assiduously trying to keep him arm's length, the assistant librarian would have been both unwilling and unprepared to offer him any more than that at the time.

Still, she felt horrible for her lack of concern. When her aunt and uncle were alive, she dutifully made the trip home to Marshalltown every Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and after they passed on she was invited to share the holidays with the Hill-Paroo clan. How could she have not cared enough to at least inquire about Jim's holiday plans? By last Christmas, if not Thanksgiving, Jim was a good enough friend that she should have had the heart, let alone the decency, to be interested in his well-being! Yet she had spared no thought of his isolation as she merrily spent the holidays with her dear friends.

When Jane confessed her oversight and apologized for it, she was wholly unsurprised that Jim assured her he wasn't as alone as she imagined. The matron of his boarding house generously hosted Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner for her tenants with no family, and the School Board had put on a Christmas Eve luncheon and concert for all the teachers. When Jane insisted it wasn't the same as being with cherished loved ones, Jim pointed out he would have demurred even if she had inquired, so she mustn't be too hard on herself for her reticence.

Still, Jane remained resolute in her plan. For months, an idea for the perfect present had been brewing, and she spent long hours bringing it slowly to fruition, lest the eagle-eyed history teacher catch on before she was ready to reveal her surprise. Ever since Jim had arrived to River City, it irked him that there was no ancient history section in the library. Now, after the most recent cleanout, she had contrived to preserve just enough space to make, in his honor, an ancient history shelf in the library. This shelf was stocked with the books he most constantly referred to, in both his educational curriculum and personal research, which she was well aware of after their long academic camaraderie. In recent months, she had paid even closer attention to the history teacher's browsing habits, but it wasn't until the morning of December 23, when the library was closed to patrons, that she actually moved the volumes to their new home.

While this task was completed quickly enough, the assistant librarian spent nearly as much time biting her lip and staring dolefully at the contents of the shelf, making a few minor additions and revisions, and second-guessing herself. Although she felt certain Jim would approve of this arrangement, there were still a few particulars that nagged at her. For one, the library holdings were catalogued according to the Dewey Decimal Classification system rather than the Library of Congress Classification system, the latter of which Jim preferred and had even launched an unsuccessful campaign to implement. So she couldn't give him his druthers in that regard. Nor could she give him an entire aisle.

However, she could give him the explanation he'd been fishing for throughout their friendly but everlasting debate about the library's arrangement. While Jane sensed Jim had always derived far more enjoyment than annoyance from these discussions, especially after they started courting in earnest, she still hadn't divulged the real reason why Madison Public Library no longer had an ancient history aisle, out of respect for Miss Marian's privacy. But the librarian had not only granted Jane her permission to speak freely of the hazard that had manifested in having an aisle end in a wall with no means of egress, but also to give the history teacher a private tour of the new shelf on the day before Christmas Eve. It would be the beginning of a full calendar for them – their presence would be required at the Christmas Eve concert in the gymnasium the next evening and, on Christmas Day, they were to attend Mrs. Paroo's Christmas dinner, as the matron insisted they were both "part of the family."

But for the present, Jane and Jim were enjoying a lovely "Christmas Eve" eve entirely to themselves. After a nice dinner together, they decided to take a walk around River City. The weather was cold and crisp, but clear. While the landscape was picturesquely covered in white, it had not snowed at all in the past week, so the walkways were either bereft of snow or had been tamped down into a firmer surface. Although the River City-ziens had long stopped avidly paying attention to the courtship of their resident bluestocking academic, Jane still couldn't help being relieved that they left no footprints betraying their path.

For Jim had asked her for a tour of River City the first day they met, and by golly, she was finally going to make good on that promise. Although the assistant librarian was not deliberately trying to be witty or sarcastic in her descriptions, she was gratified that the man whose opinion she valued above all else – except Miss Marian's, of course – found her commentary amusing, often smiling or even laughing kindly but conspiratorially at her observations of life in this town of good-hearted but prosaic-minded people. By the time they ended up winding up their tour in Madison Picnic Park, both of them were so overcome with the comfort and delight of their shared camaraderie that they were openly walking hand in hand. Except for their presence, the park was entirely empty, though the pavilion was still flashily decorated from the boys' band's Christmas concert fundraiser a few weeks ago. It was a veritable winter wonderland, and it almost felt tailor-made just for the two of them.

Gone were the mild handclasps and affable smiles in private. As their conversation naturally dwindled into pleasant and companionable silence, and Jane started to shiver with cold, Jim spirited her into one of the many hidden alcoves in Madison Park, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her thoroughly until she warmed up enough to continue their stroll. Of course, this led to Jane coming down with quite a few more cases of the shivers, which in turn led to Jim bundling her into the nearest cozy alcove for another heated round of not talking. Jane refused to feel ashamed for unabashedly encouraging these interludes, especially as she basked in the glow of the bald-faced grin that lit up his face as bright as the lights twinkling from the pavilion every time she started to tremble. By the time they'd made a complete circuit of the park, Jane was shivering so much that she half-expected that Jim would make the worried – or perhaps teasing – observation that she was coming down with hypothermia.

But he did not say a word. Instead, they eventually found their way to the footbridge, where they abandoned all pretense of clinging together merely for protection from the cold. However, after having been outside for so long already, they only managed a quarter of an hour before they genuinely started to get too chilly even for canoodling. The wind had picked up and Jane's fingers and cheeks were starting to sting unpleasantly – not even Jim's ardent mouth could warm them up anymore, so at long last, she suggested they go somewhere warm to exchange their gifts.

Teeth chattering, Jim nodded in agreement – his nose was like an ice cube against her cheek – and allowed her to lead him to the library. The building was closed but the radiator on the main floor was clanking cheerfully as if in welcome. Gratefully, they hovered over it and warmed their chilled fingers and faces over the steam, and once they thawed out enough to remove their outerwear, the assistant librarian led the now rather baffled history teacher to the second floor. When he saw the new ancient history shelf, his bemusement was replaced with amazement and he gazed at her in flattered wonder.

Jane self-consciously hugged herself, in a pretense of still being chilly, and stammered, "So, do you like it?"

Jim turned to her and took her hands in his. "This is, without a doubt, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

She goggled at him. "Ever?"

"Well, scholarly speaking," he qualified. "Academia can be a very cutthroat field. Not so much in teaching, but all's fair in love and research. That's why I came down from college to the high school level. If I ever do publish anything again, it won't be because my dean was breathing down my neck, and I won't have to collaborate with a colleague that shakes my hand with his right one while hiding a knife behind his back with his left."

Jane nodded in understanding. She remembered how jealously William guarded his lab notes. She'd soon discovered that it wasn't merely a tendency toward disorganization that drove him to keep his papers arranged in a haphazard filing system known only to himself – he feared espionage. After she'd realized that, she'd made sure to keep his research not only impeccably organized, but stored under lock and key.

"While I certainly don't begrudge man's innate drive to explore the frontiers of knowledge – after all, it is the only path to progress – I never lusted after the fame of discovery, as some of my colleagues did." The dark cloud over Jim's brow dissipated as his countenance softened. "I found the greatest joy in working with my students, teaching young minds how to think critically and reason soundly." He leaned in even closer and gave her the impish smile that never failed to make her stomach give a pleasant little flip-flop of anticipation. "You know, half the fun of coming to the library is asking the pretty assistant librarian where to find books as a pretense to converse with her in dim and isolated corners. I guess I'll have to come up with some other excuse to do this… " His mouth covered hers.

Unwilling to spoil such a lovely moment, Jane let him kiss her, instead of telling him the rest of the story. But the history teacher must have sensed her reticence, for all too soon, he pulled away to look at her with concerned eyes. "Is something wrong, dearest?"

With a small sigh, Jane finally divulged the real reason they could never move the shelf back to where it used to be. As she told Jim briefly but straightforwardly about the farmer with an unrequited crush who went too far, she still felt a bit uncomfortable, as if she was betraying her dearest friend's trust. But Miss Marian had made it very clear that she no longer held any shame about what had happened to her, that she had carried her accoster's shame in her heart for far too many years and, while she wasn't going to sing what happened from the rooftops, she darn well wasn't going to shelter the reputation of a wrongdoer by concealing guilt that wasn't hers. And, the librarian had added with firm conviction, it was not only imperative, but also immensely freeing for her to speak out about the incident wherever and whenever she deemed it appropriate and helpful. Given that Jim was growing closer and closer to Jane, and by extension, Marian and her family, she felt he was worthy of knowing about it.

Indeed, Jim proved his worth immediately, his eyes radiating nothing but sympathy and understanding. "The safety of the librarians is paramount, even over the most efficient organization. Forgive my presumption in pressing the issue."

"I wish I could have told you long before now," Jane said apologetically. "But even if it wouldn't have betrayed a confidence, it would have been too vulgar for me to blurt something like that out. I may be blunt, but I'm not that graceless."

Jim pulled her into his arms. "I love your bluntness," he said staunchly as he kissed her flyaway curls.

Jane was about to wryly retort that any man would love to hear the woman he wanted being blunt in his favor, engaged or not, married or not. But she filed that thought away for later, as Jim had removed a small packet from his pocket and presented it to her.

It was a delicate silver locket in the shape of a book. The box it came in was just as exquisite – fragrant cedar with an owl carved into the lid.

"I only wish my present was as creative as yours," Jim said with a rueful smile. "I do hope you like it. I tried my best to choose things that were representative of you. The symbolism of the book is obvious, but the reason I chose the owl is because it stands for Athena, or as the Romans called her, Minerva."

"The goddess of wisdom?" Jane breathed, tracing her finger over the carving.

Jim gently removed the box from her hands, took the locket out of it, and fastened it around her neck. "Yes," he confirmed, dropping a soft kiss on her nape.

Though the history teacher had become far freer with his kisses and caresses since their picnic at the lake, his lips had not touched her neck since then. Now his mouth lingered for a long while, tracing painstakingly from her nape down the line of her jaw to the hollow of her throat. Then he did something he hadn't done at the lake – moving to the side of her neck, he bit it gently, with lips over teeth, not nearly hard enough to leave a mark, but firmly enough to make Jane let out a small moan and pull him even closer. She wouldn't have cared if he did leave a mark – she could always wear a scarf to the Christmas concert tomorrow night.

When Jim finally lifted his head, his eyes were twinkling and he was grinning both proudly and abashedly, like a boy who'd successfully sneaked cookies from the pantry. The atmosphere was deliciously electric between them, somehow even more than it had been when they were spirited away in Madison Picnic Park's many tiny alcoves together. Delighted, Jane attempted to flirt – and, as usual, bungled it completely. "With my green dress and your red face, we look like the perfect Christmas decoration!"

Jim guffawed at that. Even though her remark had completely defused the romantic mood, Jane refused to feel foolish, taking satisfaction in that if she couldn't always make him weak in the knees with her dazzling wit, she could at least make him laugh. And when he buried his face in her hair and whispered that this was shaping up to be one of the best Christmases he'd ever had, she beamed like she was sitting in the catbird seat.

Ever the gentleman, Jim insisted on seeing the assistant librarian home before the hour grew too scandalously late even for a courting couple of their age and situation. But his hand never let go of hers the whole way to her boarding house, and when they reached her porch, he gave her a very long kiss before finally bidding her goodnight.

Cradling the locket and the owl box in her hands, Jane watched Jim walk away, too besotted to care who saw her or what they thought of her behavior. She was amply rewarded for her devotion – before the history teacher turned the corner, he looked back and waved, regarding her with a gaze that was both blithe and longing, before he disappeared around the bend. As Jane looked steadily and wistfully back at him in return, the side of her neck twinged pleasantly. But even at this stark reminder, which awakened her body even further to the delicious and maddening promise of what uncharted pleasures awaited the two of them in the future, she truly couldn't imagine being any happier than she was now.