Page 2 of Dear Bookworm Beauty
Her attention on me doesn't waver, but her finger itches on the page of the journal, eager to get back to her work in the small amount of time she has left.
“I wanted to ask if you might be interested in getting a coffee with me sometime?” I blurt out.
“What the hell?” she asks.
I’m taken aback by her response. A simple no would have sufficed.
“I only thought that—” I start to say but stop when I realize her attention is back on the journal.
Laurel flips the page between her fingers back and forth, and I suddenly notice what has caught her attention. It appears that two of the journal pages are stuck together, and there is something tucked between them.
“What the hell?” I ask and pull out the seat across from Laurel and sit down.
She gently peels the two pages apart, careful not to do damage to the delicate and extremely old journal.
“What is that?” I ask.
Laurel shakes her head and pulls out a folded sheet of paper with cursive writing on it.
“It looks like a letter.” Her gaze meets mine. “Should we read it?”
I shrug, knowing my answer is yes, but I’m going to let her lead the way.
Laurel unfolds the sheet and starts reading aloud.
My dearest Jo,
I can barely write this letter. My heart is so filled with happiness and love. I’ve dreamt of this day, from the moment your father brought me into your home, and I first laid eyes on your smiling face. I couldn't have known then that you would one day return my affection and agree to be my wife. Oh, my love, my heart fills when I see those words—my wife. And I, your husband. We will finally get to build the life together we planned, filled with children and love. I will speak to your father in the morning. I can only pray that he will give his blessing to our union. With talk of the possibility of war, I believe he will grant us his permission to be wed as soon as possible. Life is too short to wait for happiness to come and find us. We must seize it.
It's getting late, and I must cut this letter short. So sleep well, my love, for tomorrow is the beginning of our life together.
Most affectionally yours forever,
GAD
2
LAUREL
"This is unbelievable," I breathe out, staring at the letter. I flip it over, hoping to find a postscript or something else that might tell me more, but there is nothing. "Who is Gad?”
The cute librarian guy looks up at me, confused. I don't think he realizes the significance this find is to what scholars know of Josephine La Monte.
She was a prolific American painter who is known for her work depicting life during the civil war. She was a volunteer nurse at one of the union hospitals near Alexandria, Virginia. It was once a hotel owned by a Southern family until the Union Army took over. Her most famous painting shows two wounded men lying next to one another—one a Union soldier and the other a confederate soldier. It showed the juxtaposition between the two warring sides in that simple image—we are all the same when you strip everything away.
“Her future husband,” the Cute Librarian interrupts my thoughts.
I shake my head. “She never married. She never hinted at finding love, let alone voluntarily getting engaged to someone.”
A crease appears between his brows, and now he looks just as confused as I feel. This is a whole new piece of a puzzle of a woman I’ve spent much of my academic life studying.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
“I suppose I have to talk to the head of the Art department.”
He makes a face but doesn’t say anything.
“I can’t not say anything,” I say.
