33. Jasper
Jasper knew exactly where to find her. At the library, of course.
“Here. I brought you these.” He reached into his leather cross-bag and pulled out a stack of books: the faded green Tropic of Cancer, the battered A Farewell to Arms, the well-lined The Haunting of Hill House, and of course the barely touched Wuthering Heights. “I tried reading the writing in the last one before I came here, but it was so full of maudlin sentiment that I only made it a few pages. Maybe you’ll enjoy it more than I can.”
Chloe turned to face him, her eyes wide in the way all the Sampsons seemed to have perfected. “Jasper! What are you doing here?”
Since she made no move to take the books, he dumped them on the counter in front of her. She appeared to be doing some kind of data entry on one of the library computers—a thing he felt pretty sure was a waste of her talents and likely the most boring job in existence. But she’d continue in the same way he had when he’d been her age, determined to do her work well and equally determined not to let anyone know what it cost her.
“And before you try giving me all these back again, I should inform you that I came here directly from the bank,” he added. “You still haven’t deposited that check.”
Over her shoulder, Jasper spotted two other librarians coming to see what all the ruckus was about. One of them was the girl he’d seen around Chloe’s house before—the one who looked exactly like Lonnie Pakootas and who terrified him just as much as that old battle-ax. The other was a waddling scrap of a man that Jasper could already tell he wasn’t going to like.
The man arrived at the checkout counter first.
“Chloe,” he said in a voice that denoted his status as the overlord of this particular realm. “Is this patron bothering you?”
“Of course he’s bothering her, Gunderson,” the girl said, hard on his heels. “That’s Jasper Holmes. Remember? The guy you told us about? Who killed a woman back in the sixties and then buried her out in his garden?”
The man—Gunderson—almost toppled over in his sudden discomfiture. He coughed and snorted and made a variety of other noises better suited for a barnyard than a library checkout counter. “I never said that,” he muttered, unable to meet Jasper’s eye. “It was a rumor, that’s all. My wife read about it in one of her forums.”
Chloe’s eyes met Jasper’s with a flash of laughter. It had been so long since he’d had that kind of easy intimacy with another person that he found himself sharing her amusement. He also did what he could to get rid of the guy. Suffering fools had never been his strong suit, and no number of Sampsons taking over his life would change that.
“I may not have killed Catherine, but I was responsible for her death,” he said to Gunderson without a hint of inflection. “Feel free to tell your wife all about it.”
At sight of the man’s suddenly goggling stare, Chloe rushed to explain. “Don’t tell your wife anything of the sort, Gunderson,” she said. “The Catherine in question didn’t actually die. She just moved away under… Let’s call it a cloud of suspicion. A lot of people were led to believe she was dead, but it was all a misunderstanding.”
“It’s true,” the Pakootas girl added. She leaned on the counter, her eyes dancing mischievously up into Jasper’s. “You can ask my grandmother about it. She was there at the time.”
The Gunderson man opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly at a loss for words—and for the authority to throw Jasper out of the library like he wanted to.
“The dead girl is also staying somewhere in town for the foreseeable future, so if you’re thinking about pressing charges, there’s no point,” Jasper said. He looked down at his hands—deeply veined and liable to ache anytime rain was near—and grimaced. “Although she’s not a girl anymore. Everything happened a long time ago.”
All of a sudden, Chloe was touching his shoulder, her customary expression of worry back in place. Jasper couldn’t imagine why until he realized his hands were shaking.
“Is it okay if I take my break early today, Gunderson?” she asked. “I’d like to see Jasper safely home. There’s been a lot more excitement in his life than he’s used to lately.”
At that—the most understated of all understatements—Gunderson relaxed. “Go ahead, Chloe. We’re not busy today.”
“And I’ll finish inputting the holiday catalog for you,” the Pakootas girl added. “I got done with my bookmobile rounds early, so it’s no problem.”
Chloe took one look at her coworkers and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, you guys. I know I’ve been flaking out a lot lately, but—”
“But nothing,” Gunderson said. “Patron safety is the most important thing.”
This seemed a touch dramatic to Jasper. He might have grown a little shaken when he thought back on all the time that had passed and the years he’d wasted, but he was built of sterner stuff. He was about to say as much when Gunderson’s gaze fell to the stack of books.
Gunderson reached out to touch the Hemingway spine. “Wait. Are some of these library property?”
Faced with such a question, there was no other choice. Jasper put a hand to his chest and groaned as if his every internal organ was about to explode. “I can’t… I’m not…” He pretended to falter where he stood. “My heartbeat feels faint. I think I need to sit down.”
Chloe took her lower lip between her teeth. “You poor thing,” she said in a quaking voice. “There’s no time to waste.”
With a skill borne of many years of librarian practice, she gathered the stack of books in one arm. She guided her other arm under Jasper’s elbow as if to support his tottering steps toward to the door. As soon as they felt the chilly blast of the fall air, she let go.
“Jasper, you wretch!” she said between gasps of laughter. “Gunderson has almost zero sense of humor. If he were to walk out now and see you standing on your own two feet, he’d probably fire me.”
“A guy like that?” He waved her off, his hands only slightly shaking now. The outdoors always had a calming effect on him that way. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen the resemblance to Zach earlier. There were only a few people in the world for whom the fresh air was more balm than breath, who could find peace and serenity in an environment that was actively trying to kill you at every turn.
“He won’t touch your job without files of just cause and the full backing of the library board,” Jasper added with a grunt. “He’d be terrified of a lawsuit—or, worse, public outcry. His kind always is.”
“Huh. I never thought of it that way.”
Of course she didn’t. Chloe Sampson was in survival mode. She was so concerned with making it through each day—each week, each month—that she rarely stopped to breathe. Jasper knew because he’d done it for almost twenty years. By the time the twins had graduated from college and the rest of his siblings had started to build lives of their own, Jasper had been treading water for so long that he hadn’t realized how close he was to shore.
“Jasper, I can’t take these books,” she said as they moved down the steps together. “They don’t belong to me.”
She didn’t try to help him, which he appreciated, but he was getting really tired of the books shuffling back and forth. He imagined the books were equally tired of it. They’d carried too many secrets for too long; all they wanted at this point was a place to rest their weary spines.
“Well, they don’t belong to me, either,” he said irritably. “And what’s more to the point, I don’t want them.”
As they reached the bottom of the steps, Jasper could feel the weight of Chloe’s gaze. It was heavy but not uncomfortable, like a blanket on a cold winter’s day.
“I’m sorry about Catherine,” she said. “It must be hard to see her again after all these years.”
Jasper snorted. “Losing her was hard. Believing her to be dead was hard. Watching her waltz back into my life as though the past sixty years never happened is a piece of cake compared to all that.” Something like a smile touched his lips. “It’s just like her, too. If anyone could be expected to stroll into town, with a son and a grandson and a life full of adventure behind her, it’s my Catherine. No one else would have had the nerve.”
“Wait.” Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “You mean you aren’t angry with her? You’re going to forgive her?”
His laugh was short and sharp, but not to the point of pain. Not anymore.
“I doubt she’ll ask for my forgiveness,” he said dryly. “Or, to be honest, that she even wants it. The thing you have to understand about Catherine Martin is that she’s very much like her namesake, no matter how much she might try to pretend otherwise.”
Chloe’s eyes dropped to the copy of Wuthering Heights. Without having to resort to the pages, she quoted the most apt line of all.
“‘I wish I were a girl again,’” she said, “‘half savage, and hardy, and free.’”
Jasper felt his chest grow tight. “She can pretend that she’s a grown woman now, with a family and responsibilities, but I know the truth. I always have. She’s a beautiful, entitled, cruel whirlwind of a girl, and I love her so much that nothing she says or does will ever change that. Not even death or, worse, sixty years of silence.”
Saying the words out loud seemed to give them life—and, by extension, to give Jasper life. Chloe, however, only looked doubtful.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Back at the house, you said that they don’t get to walk away and then come back like it doesn’t mean anything—that Catherine and my mom can’t act as though the rest of us don’t matter.”
For the first time in Jasper’s life, he found himself wishing he wasn’t such an obstinate crank of a man, and that his first reaction to pain wasn’t to lash out and inflict it in equal and opposing proportions.
“I did say that,” he agreed carefully. “And you have every right to question the wisdom that comes out of my mouth at this or any other time. But our situations are different, Chloe. Your brother and sister helped me see that. When Catherine left, she did it because she was trying to do the right thing, however misguided. When your mother left…”
He stopped, unsure how far he could push without making things worse. In the end, he decided there was no point.
“She wasn’t trying to do anything but make her own life easier,” he said simply. “She wasn’t thinking about anyone but herself.”
Chloe grew very still and equally quiet. “You think I should ask her to leave?”
Jasper absolutely thought that, but he’d have been damned if he was going to tell this girl what to do. He was no more fit to provide life guidance than Theo.
“I think having her in your life would considerably ease your burdens,” he said, since it was no more than the truth. “She’s feeling enough guilt right now that you could probably ask for anything and get it. And that husband of hers seems like a decent enough guy. Money, housing, food, childcare, even a chance to go back to that college of yours…I imagine none of it is out of the question.”
“Oh,” she said. Just that—just oh—and what remained of Jasper’s resolve disappeared. He lifted the books from her hands and stooped to set them down on the nearest step. His back shifted, and he felt pretty sure his knees wouldn’t forgive him anytime soon, but he was pleased to find that he managed just fine.
“Chloe, listen to me. Your mom will make your life easier, but you don’t need her, okay? Not if you don’t want her.”
“I don’t?”
“No.” He put his hands on her shoulders and held them there until she looked up into his face. He didn’t know how he’d ever thought she was identical to her mother. Their features were similar, and he was sure Chloe would age just as gracefully, but there was so much uncertainty and determination in those clear green eyes. So much good.
“All those things I just listed? The money and the childcare, the soft place to land?” His fingers clenched tightly against her shoulders. “You already have them. I’ve spent a long time sitting alone in that empty house of mine, watching your family grow. I know I haven’t been the easiest neighbor in the world—”
At this, she snorted. He answered her with a chuckle.
“Fine, I’ve been a royal pain in the ass, but you know what I mean. I’d like to help you—you and Noodle and Theo and Trixie and even that blasted useless dog of yours. You don’t have to accept anything you don’t want to, and I’d never push myself into your home or life without asking, but I want you to know that I’m an option. If you accept that woman back in your life, do it knowing that you owe her nothing—and that you need her even less. Not while you have me.”
Instead of addressing the offer, she took her lower lip between her teeth and glanced down at the books. “You really don’t want them back? The books? Your love story?”
“I don’t need the love story,” he said with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever Chloe decided, he felt good knowing that she had options—and for once in her life, they were good ones. “Not when I have so many other stories left to read.”