Page 34 of Yours, For Good

"... library… guests… much?"

"... be quiet…"

I smiled. It was too little to make sense of anything, but I would wager he wanted a book.

My eyes landed on the small stack on my bedside table. I had raided the library early in my stay, and picked a variety of books to sate my curiosity— two old leather-bound novels, a comic book, a sci-fi story, a high fantasy epic… and a children's book about a young archeologist. The mood reader in me had been ecstatic to have a large collection to fit my desires.

I grabbed the book on top, the one Javier had owned as a child. All details on the cover were grayed out in the faint light of the room, mostly borne of the moon and the curtains I had left open. I traced the illustrated child on the dust jacket, and followed the line of his hat and dancing whip. Clearly aimed at fans of a movie franchise, I tried to imagine Javier as a little boy who dreamed of adventures and gold idols, and grinned.

Maybe Javier wanted the book I had in my hands, for memory's sake.

I threw my covers aside and found a sweater to throw over my pajama tank top. With the book in my hand, I took a couple seconds to listen carefully for any signs of movement outside— I couldn't hear a thing. I opened my door quietly; the hallway remained dark. Out of my room, I inspected the door edges of the other room in the attic. Dark. Javier wasn't in his bedroom.

My socked feet padded silently on the polished wood under me. Mrs. Semple explained earlier in the week that she left a few strategically placed lights on all night, so her guests could always find their way at night. Poetic, if you asked me. She didn't know I was an expert at finding my own way in darkened passageways.

The house sat on what remained of an old plot of land the Pendletons had owned, back when Connecticut was farmland and rich families had country residences. Having sold most of it, the area formed a picturesque small town. Many properties now surrounded the old home, big and distinguished among newer construction.

Even though it was a couple of centuries old, the glamor of ancient days still showed everywhere. Portraits on the walls, antique pieces in nooks or on shelves, and carved details on dark wood decorated every floor. Most windows showcased stained glass ribbons and, in the evening, sunlight cast rainbows on the white walls. Carpets molded to the stairs with brass bars, and the smell of flowers in their vases and polish on the banister somehow melded to a placid classic scent.

With the news of its previous owner's visit, everything had been cleaned and polished within an angstrom of reflecting light like a mirror.

I went down the stairs avoiding the steps I had learned made the most noise and, just in case, made for the library. It was the right move. Javier stood alone by the bookshelves, running a finger down spines printed in gold lettering.

The door squeaked as I closed it behind me, not to disrupt sleeping guests. Javier's face whipped up in my direction at the noice.

Butterflies took flight behind my breastbone— clearly, the result of my excitement, that I had a friend to spend time with for the end of year celebration. It was a first for me, and I had built it up a lot in my head. It had nothing to do with the quiet intensity in his eyes.

It was enthusiasm that lit up my smile.

"Hey." I pursed my lips, but I didn't think it did much to hide my grin. I showed him the book in my hands. "I wondered if you might be looking for this."

I strolled to him and gave him the book. A small smile tilted his mouth as he studied it in his hands.

The blue of his gaze met my eyes. "I hope I didn't wake you up?"

He wore a dark blue sweater over a light blue shirt, giving him a casually rich look. I wasn't used to so much splendor, but I would guess the elegance had to do with the quality of the fabrics. If I got to touch him— his clothes— one day, I could make sure.

The garments highlighted the shade of blue in his eyes, deep like the sky at dusk. I studied the angles and shadows of his face in awe, very much the echo of what a pretty sunset could evoke in my chest bloomed behind my clavicles.

Ugh. Don't ruin it, Nora.

I cleared my throat. "I was awake. I heard something about the library, and here I am."

"Here you are." He opened the book cover and ran a finger pad over his name, written in pencil on a yellowed page. "I remember writing this."

"That name brought you here." I held my hands behind my back. "If I hadn't been sticking my nose among all these books, and found just that one, I don't know that I would have found you here in the library tonight."

"If I think too much about it— how eight-year old me didn't know, when he wrote his name, that you'd find it one day and it would bring me back— it might break my brain."

"Surely you've read more amazing things in a time-traveling, sci-fi book."

"Yeah. Those always break my brain. Too paradoxical." He sighed, his eyes gazing over the shelves. "I didn't know Lizzie kept the books I left behind."

"You expected her to— what? Throw them away?!"

He chuckled. "No. I thought she might have donated them."

"Why would she get rid of a nice collection like this?" I sat in one of the two armchairs near the bookshelves. "It's a mood reader's dream. If one of her guests— like moi— enjoys a perusal of old stories, this would actually be part of a five-star service."