CHAPTER ONE
“Okay, kids, this next letter holds a secret no one has been able to uncover in over three hundred years.” Julie Ashburn looked out at the kids in her classroom, gratified to see her seniors all paying attention for once. She lifted the letter from her desk and held it high in the air. “Most of you know Ludwig van Beethoven as a composer. Does anyone know anything else about him?”
Caleb raised his hand. “He was deaf as a dodo bird.”
Julie lifted a brow. “The expression is dead as a dodo, and as dodos were not deaf, I’m going to ignore the second half of your statement but agree with the first. Yes, he was deaf. He started losing his hearing in his mid-twenties.” She paced in front of her desk. “What else?”
“He was Swiss,” called out Evan.
Julie shook her head. “No, he was German.”
“Same difference,” Evan said.
Julie sighed and, for effect, shook her head sadly. “As this is honors English, not geography, so I’ll only comment that the German and Swiss peoples would not agree with your assessment.”
As the kids chuckled, Julie waved the sheet of paper again. “So Beethoven was a German composer who went deaf in his twenties. Anything more to add? Does anyone know anything about his love life?”
Julie was delighted to see all eyes turn front and center. She cleared her throat and started reading.
Good morning,
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us— I can only live wholly with you or not at all. Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the lands of spirits. Yes, unhappily, it must be so. You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart— never— never…
Julie paced and finished reading the letter aloud, then ended with the valediction.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours
She finished, lowered the paper, and looked over at the kids. “This letter was found in Beethoven’s possession upon his death. No one knows who this unknown, Immortal Beloved was. To this day, people continue to guess at the mystery woman’s identity. Books, plays, and the movie Immortal Beloved all examine, in great detail, who she might have been.”
“Maybe it was a man,” said Hannah.
Julie laughed. “Maybe so, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about today. I want to discuss how this intensely passionate letter has captured the imagination of so many. And why, hundreds of years later, the world is still trying to determine who Beethoven’s true love was.” She raised the paper. “And all of that is based on this short note.”
She paused. “Why do people even care? At this point, the world will probably never be able to match a face to this mystery woman. Not for certain. No one will know how their relationship worked out for them, as this is all that’s left of the love that once burned as passionately as the music for which Beethoven is known.”
There were a couple of snickers from the boys, but Julie continued as she leaned against her desk. “Can you imagine receiving a letter like this?”
More laughter, but everyone still paid attention.
“Can’t you just feel the emotion? These are not just words on a page, these are heartfelt sentiments that have lasted the test of time. What he felt for her is right here.” She shook the paper. “So, what does this have in common with the letter we read from Napoleon to his wife?”
Brittany raised her hand. “You can tell they really loved the women in their lives.”
“Exactly. These letters eloquently express what the writers were feeling. Remember, they didn’t have airplanes, cars, or even motorcycles. So distances were a lot greater back then. They didn’t get to Skype, tweet, or call on their cell phones. They didn’t receive email updates or texts about what was going on at home.” She raised her brows. “These men were sometimes separated from their families for months, sometimes years. They missed their wives, and they missed seeing their children grow up.”
She rifled through the letters on her desk, found the one she wanted, and raised it. “Remember the letters from the Civil War? At night, these men were cold, hungry, perhaps wet, muddy, or injured. They didn’t have fancy tents and sleeping bags to keep out the chill. And what did they think about? What did they talk about? Home and family. Wives, girlfriends, children, parents, friends, and other loved ones.”
Lindsay raised her hand. “It’s so romantic. I still love the idea of doing love letters for our fundraiser. Do you think Principal Parker will okay it?”
Julie glanced around, and a twinge of anxiety tightened her stomach. When she and her students had talked about it before, Julie had encouraged the idea. But what if it bombed? “Is everyone on board? Do you really want to write and sell love letters for the fundraiser? Candy bars may be easier.”
The kids looked around at one another and talked amongst themselves for a moment. There were a few grumbles, but in the end, when Lindsay faced forward, she smiled and said, “Yes, definitely. We want to kick butt and outsell any fundraiser that came before us.”
Julie smiled. Competitive much? “Okay, then. I’ll give it my best shot.” She must really like these kids, because they didn’t know what they were asking of her. Six months after the “event” as she liked to refer to her embarrassing behavior, she still could barely look Dane Parker in the face.
Not Dane, she reminded herself, but Principal Parker. She needed emotional distance. His laughter, then embarrassment, over her passionate declaration—it all still felt like it had happened yesterday. Especially when she saw him face to face. The only positive thing to have come out of the “event” was that he seemed to have kept his mouth solidly shut about it. Otherwise, she probably would have tried to transfer to a different high school by now.
She straightened her shoulders, determined to forget about the principal and focus on her students. “Okay, take out your pens. We’re going to practice writing sonnets.”
CHAPTER TWO
Dane walked into the faculty lounge. As always, his gaze scanned for Julie. She had her back to him, her long, golden hair curling about her shoulders, and she talked to the history teacher, Clive Hansen. As usual, her hands flew in the air as she spoke. Whatever she said was apparently fascinating, because the man couldn’t take his gaze off her.
Dane understood, because he had the same problem. She made it too easy. She never looked in his direction anymore, which allowed him to look his fill.
Dane cleared his throat. “Okay, folks, let’s call this meeting to order.”
Karen McDonald, his super-efficient secretary, hurried forward to give him the agenda.
As everyone took a seat around the oval table, he laid the sheet of paper in front of him and scanned the list of items to discuss. One was the fundraiser Julie was in charge of. Once he brought it up, she’d have to talk to him directly. It immediately went to the top of the list.
“Okay, everyone. It’s time to talk about the fundraiser. Julie, I believe you’re in charge this year, so I’ll turn the time over to you.”
As usual, Julie’s gaze slid away from his as she stood. She looked nervous, her beautiful, heart-shaped face serious as she looked around at the other teachers. She cleared her throat. “As many of you know, we’ve been doing the same tired old fundraisers for years. Specifically, selling candy bars and wrapping paper. The kids have come up with some new ideas this year that I think you’ll all be excited about. It’s something that’s never been done before, and the kids are ready and willing to step up to make it a success.”
She cleared her throat again. “As you all know, I teach honors English. We’ve been reviewing great love letters in history.”
Dane couldn’t help it. He flinched as Julie looked his direction, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable. She straightened her shoulders, and her cheeks pinked before she looked away.
Dane tried to keep his expression, blank. But love letters? Really? After what had happened between the two of them?
She took a deep breath. “Anyway, the kids came up with the great idea of writing and selling love letters at lunchtime in the commons. It will give them a chance to use their writing skills, and we think it could really take off with the student body.”
“Wait,” Dane said, holding up a hand.
She didn’t so much as glance his direction. “We could sell generic love letters in bulk and personalized love letters for a higher price. We plan to call them all love letters, but they could also be personalized notes of appreciation for parents, friends, or teachers, too. Some will be in poetry.”
Dane could see teachers around the table shaking their heads in disapproval.
“We realize that the possibility exists that some letters could be given in jest,” Julie spoke faster. “But I trust my students not to cross any lines and I think this will be a good experience—”
Dane stood. “No.”
Julie straightened. “But the kids are really excited about it.”
“While I appreciate the fact that you’ve put a lot of thought into this—”
“Not me! The kids. Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea at all.”
He sat back down. He didn’t believe it. Not for a second. What he believed was that she came here to beleaguer, harass, and otherwise torture him. If that was her agenda, she was succeeding. “Be that as it may, I see too many problems associated with the idea.”
Her eyes narrowed. “For instance?”
He tapped his index finger on the table. He really wished he could give her what she wanted. He wished she’d look at him with gratitude rather than with anger. “Hurt feelings. Bullying. Kids sending love letters to other kids in a mean-spirited way.” He considered keeping his mouth closed, then changed his mind. “Or, someone who isn’t ready for something as big as a heartfelt love letter coming his or her way and unintentionally hurting the sender’s feelings.”
Julie glared at him from across the table; hopefully she’d received the message. He’d never been able to smooth things over with her after he’d reacted so horribly, and taking the chance now, in a room full of people, ensured that she’d actually hear him.
She laid one clenched fist on the table. “I think the kids may surprise you if you’d give this a chance.”
“They’ll have to surprise me in other ways. Like in how much money they make. We’re planning for the proceeds to buy a Wolverine sign to place on the outside wall of the gym. The seniors are really excited about it. If we use a tried and true formula, we can pretty much count on making the $3,000 needed for the sign. If we do an untried and untested fundraiser, it could end up being a flop, and we won’t have the money when we need it.”
“It won’t flop.”
“It could. You can’t guarantee it. I say we go with chocolate bars.”
Julie took a deep breath. “I say we take a vote. And keep in mind my honors English class will be completely disappointed if this isn’t approved. So who’s for the love letters?”
Most faculty members looked away, and only one, Julie’s best friend, Kayla Stone, raised a hand in support.
As Julie’s mouth tightened, Dane found himself feeling sorry for her and wanting to comfort her. Not that he would or could in the circumstances.
“Are you kidding me?” She lifted a hand into the air. “Come on. Do we really want to send these kids the message that creativity is not to be encouraged? How are they supposed to feel when I go back and tell them that it’s going to be candy bars again? How can I face them?”
Dane shrugged. “By telling them that sometimes playing it safe will help them reach their goals?”
Julie placed her palms on the table and leaned toward him. “Fine, but there are two parts to this, and the second one involves you personally. Are you going to disappoint them twice?”
Dane sighed as he looked over at Julie, who was quivering with passion, and he really hoped he could give her the second part of what she was asking for. “Okay, let’s have it. What is it?”
“You said yourself that the kids usually make about $3,000 on these fundraisers, right? Well, they came up with a plan to help sell the love letters—”
“Candy bars,” he said.
“Fine, candy bars. If we sell $5,000’s worth of candy bars—”
The math teacher snorted. Julie glared at the man and Dane was glad her ire was raised at someone else for the moment. But he had to admit he agreed with Scott. No way could they raise that much in four weeks.
“Yes?” he Dane prompted. “If your fundraiser makes $5,000…”
“Then you’ll shave your head at the Valentine’s dance.”
Dane’s brows rose. He chuckled. “Shave my head? No way. It’s January. I’d freeze.”
“In Southern Utah? You’ll be fine. Besides, it would give the students the motivation to sell more candy bars.” She stressed the last two words.
He shook his head. “Forget it. Chalk the whole thing up to a bad idea.”
“According to you, they won’t possibly sell that many candy bars anyway. You implied that $3,000 is their limit. What do you have to lose?”
“My hair.”
Laughter filled the room. He’d be tempted to agree if he didn’t think the reason she wanted him to shave his head was because she wanted payback. He knew good and well what this was really about. When she’d written him that cursed flowery, eloquent letter, six months ago he’d thought she was joking and laughed. Only when he’d looked up to see her watching him across the commons, her expression devastated, had he realized she’d been sincere.
“Fine,” said Julie. “I’m sure the kids will be surprised at your lack of support.” She finally sat down.
Dane took a breath. “Okay, next on the agenda.” As the meeting continued, he tried his best not to look at Julie smoldering at the other end of the table.
When the room started clearing, she was the first to gather her things. He considered calling her back and trying to talk to her alone but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
She was as unforgiving as she was beautiful. And he needed to come up with something better than a short talk in his office if he was ever going to win her back.
“Okay, kids, this next letter holds a secret no one has been able to uncover in over three hundred years.” Julie Ashburn looked out at the kids in her classroom, gratified to see her seniors all paying attention for once. She lifted the letter from her desk and held it high in the air. “Most of you know Ludwig van Beethoven as a composer. Does anyone know anything else about him?”
Caleb raised his hand. “He was deaf as a dodo bird.”
Julie lifted a brow. “The expression is dead as a dodo, and as dodos were not deaf, I’m going to ignore the second half of your statement but agree with the first. Yes, he was deaf. He started losing his hearing in his mid-twenties.” She paced in front of her desk. “What else?”
“He was Swiss,” called out Evan.
Julie shook her head. “No, he was German.”
“Same difference,” Evan said.
Julie sighed and, for effect, shook her head sadly. “As this is honors English, not geography, so I’ll only comment that the German and Swiss peoples would not agree with your assessment.”
As the kids chuckled, Julie waved the sheet of paper again. “So Beethoven was a German composer who went deaf in his twenties. Anything more to add? Does anyone know anything about his love life?”
Julie was delighted to see all eyes turn front and center. She cleared her throat and started reading.
Good morning,
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us— I can only live wholly with you or not at all. Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the lands of spirits. Yes, unhappily, it must be so. You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart— never— never…
Julie paced and finished reading the letter aloud, then ended with the valediction.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours
She finished, lowered the paper, and looked over at the kids. “This letter was found in Beethoven’s possession upon his death. No one knows who this unknown, Immortal Beloved was. To this day, people continue to guess at the mystery woman’s identity. Books, plays, and the movie Immortal Beloved all examine, in great detail, who she might have been.”
“Maybe it was a man,” said Hannah.
Julie laughed. “Maybe so, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about today. I want to discuss how this intensely passionate letter has captured the imagination of so many. And why, hundreds of years later, the world is still trying to determine who Beethoven’s true love was.” She raised the paper. “And all of that is based on this short note.”
She paused. “Why do people even care? At this point, the world will probably never be able to match a face to this mystery woman. Not for certain. No one will know how their relationship worked out for them, as this is all that’s left of the love that once burned as passionately as the music for which Beethoven is known.”
There were a couple of snickers from the boys, but Julie continued as she leaned against her desk. “Can you imagine receiving a letter like this?”
More laughter, but everyone still paid attention.
“Can’t you just feel the emotion? These are not just words on a page, these are heartfelt sentiments that have lasted the test of time. What he felt for her is right here.” She shook the paper. “So, what does this have in common with the letter we read from Napoleon to his wife?”
Brittany raised her hand. “You can tell they really loved the women in their lives.”
“Exactly. These letters eloquently express what the writers were feeling. Remember, they didn’t have airplanes, cars, or even motorcycles. So distances were a lot greater back then. They didn’t get to Skype, tweet, or call on their cell phones. They didn’t receive email updates or texts about what was going on at home.” She raised her brows. “These men were sometimes separated from their families for months, sometimes years. They missed their wives, and they missed seeing their children grow up.”
She rifled through the letters on her desk, found the one she wanted, and raised it. “Remember the letters from the Civil War? At night, these men were cold, hungry, perhaps wet, muddy, or injured. They didn’t have fancy tents and sleeping bags to keep out the chill. And what did they think about? What did they talk about? Home and family. Wives, girlfriends, children, parents, friends, and other loved ones.”
Lindsay raised her hand. “It’s so romantic. I still love the idea of doing love letters for our fundraiser. Do you think Principal Parker will okay it?”
Julie glanced around, and a twinge of anxiety tightened her stomach. When she and her students had talked about it before, Julie had encouraged the idea. But what if it bombed? “Is everyone on board? Do you really want to write and sell love letters for the fundraiser? Candy bars may be easier.”
The kids looked around at one another and talked amongst themselves for a moment. There were a few grumbles, but in the end, when Lindsay faced forward, she smiled and said, “Yes, definitely. We want to kick butt and outsell any fundraiser that came before us.”
Julie smiled. Competitive much? “Okay, then. I’ll give it my best shot.” She must really like these kids, because they didn’t know what they were asking of her. Six months after the “event” as she liked to refer to her embarrassing behavior, she still could barely look Dane Parker in the face.
Not Dane, she reminded herself, but Principal Parker. She needed emotional distance. His laughter, then embarrassment, over her passionate declaration—it all still felt like it had happened yesterday. Especially when she saw him face to face. The only positive thing to have come out of the “event” was that he seemed to have kept his mouth solidly shut about it. Otherwise, she probably would have tried to transfer to a different high school by now.
She straightened her shoulders, determined to forget about the principal and focus on her students. “Okay, take out your pens. We’re going to practice writing sonnets.”
CHAPTER TWO
Dane walked into the faculty lounge. As always, his gaze scanned for Julie. She had her back to him, her long, golden hair curling about her shoulders, and she talked to the history teacher, Clive Hansen. As usual, her hands flew in the air as she spoke. Whatever she said was apparently fascinating, because the man couldn’t take his gaze off her.
Dane understood, because he had the same problem. She made it too easy. She never looked in his direction anymore, which allowed him to look his fill.
Dane cleared his throat. “Okay, folks, let’s call this meeting to order.”
Karen McDonald, his super-efficient secretary, hurried forward to give him the agenda.
As everyone took a seat around the oval table, he laid the sheet of paper in front of him and scanned the list of items to discuss. One was the fundraiser Julie was in charge of. Once he brought it up, she’d have to talk to him directly. It immediately went to the top of the list.
“Okay, everyone. It’s time to talk about the fundraiser. Julie, I believe you’re in charge this year, so I’ll turn the time over to you.”
As usual, Julie’s gaze slid away from his as she stood. She looked nervous, her beautiful, heart-shaped face serious as she looked around at the other teachers. She cleared her throat. “As many of you know, we’ve been doing the same tired old fundraisers for years. Specifically, selling candy bars and wrapping paper. The kids have come up with some new ideas this year that I think you’ll all be excited about. It’s something that’s never been done before, and the kids are ready and willing to step up to make it a success.”
She cleared her throat again. “As you all know, I teach honors English. We’ve been reviewing great love letters in history.”
Dane couldn’t help it. He flinched as Julie looked his direction, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable. She straightened her shoulders, and her cheeks pinked before she looked away.
Dane tried to keep his expression, blank. But love letters? Really? After what had happened between the two of them?
She took a deep breath. “Anyway, the kids came up with the great idea of writing and selling love letters at lunchtime in the commons. It will give them a chance to use their writing skills, and we think it could really take off with the student body.”
“Wait,” Dane said, holding up a hand.
She didn’t so much as glance his direction. “We could sell generic love letters in bulk and personalized love letters for a higher price. We plan to call them all love letters, but they could also be personalized notes of appreciation for parents, friends, or teachers, too. Some will be in poetry.”
Dane could see teachers around the table shaking their heads in disapproval.
“We realize that the possibility exists that some letters could be given in jest,” Julie spoke faster. “But I trust my students not to cross any lines and I think this will be a good experience—”
Dane stood. “No.”
Julie straightened. “But the kids are really excited about it.”
“While I appreciate the fact that you’ve put a lot of thought into this—”
“Not me! The kids. Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea at all.”
He sat back down. He didn’t believe it. Not for a second. What he believed was that she came here to beleaguer, harass, and otherwise torture him. If that was her agenda, she was succeeding. “Be that as it may, I see too many problems associated with the idea.”
Her eyes narrowed. “For instance?”
He tapped his index finger on the table. He really wished he could give her what she wanted. He wished she’d look at him with gratitude rather than with anger. “Hurt feelings. Bullying. Kids sending love letters to other kids in a mean-spirited way.” He considered keeping his mouth closed, then changed his mind. “Or, someone who isn’t ready for something as big as a heartfelt love letter coming his or her way and unintentionally hurting the sender’s feelings.”
Julie glared at him from across the table; hopefully she’d received the message. He’d never been able to smooth things over with her after he’d reacted so horribly, and taking the chance now, in a room full of people, ensured that she’d actually hear him.
She laid one clenched fist on the table. “I think the kids may surprise you if you’d give this a chance.”
“They’ll have to surprise me in other ways. Like in how much money they make. We’re planning for the proceeds to buy a Wolverine sign to place on the outside wall of the gym. The seniors are really excited about it. If we use a tried and true formula, we can pretty much count on making the $3,000 needed for the sign. If we do an untried and untested fundraiser, it could end up being a flop, and we won’t have the money when we need it.”
“It won’t flop.”
“It could. You can’t guarantee it. I say we go with chocolate bars.”
Julie took a deep breath. “I say we take a vote. And keep in mind my honors English class will be completely disappointed if this isn’t approved. So who’s for the love letters?”
Most faculty members looked away, and only one, Julie’s best friend, Kayla Stone, raised a hand in support.
As Julie’s mouth tightened, Dane found himself feeling sorry for her and wanting to comfort her. Not that he would or could in the circumstances.
“Are you kidding me?” She lifted a hand into the air. “Come on. Do we really want to send these kids the message that creativity is not to be encouraged? How are they supposed to feel when I go back and tell them that it’s going to be candy bars again? How can I face them?”
Dane shrugged. “By telling them that sometimes playing it safe will help them reach their goals?”
Julie placed her palms on the table and leaned toward him. “Fine, but there are two parts to this, and the second one involves you personally. Are you going to disappoint them twice?”
Dane sighed as he looked over at Julie, who was quivering with passion, and he really hoped he could give her the second part of what she was asking for. “Okay, let’s have it. What is it?”
“You said yourself that the kids usually make about $3,000 on these fundraisers, right? Well, they came up with a plan to help sell the love letters—”
“Candy bars,” he said.
“Fine, candy bars. If we sell $5,000’s worth of candy bars—”
The math teacher snorted. Julie glared at the man and Dane was glad her ire was raised at someone else for the moment. But he had to admit he agreed with Scott. No way could they raise that much in four weeks.
“Yes?” he Dane prompted. “If your fundraiser makes $5,000…”
“Then you’ll shave your head at the Valentine’s dance.”
Dane’s brows rose. He chuckled. “Shave my head? No way. It’s January. I’d freeze.”
“In Southern Utah? You’ll be fine. Besides, it would give the students the motivation to sell more candy bars.” She stressed the last two words.
He shook his head. “Forget it. Chalk the whole thing up to a bad idea.”
“According to you, they won’t possibly sell that many candy bars anyway. You implied that $3,000 is their limit. What do you have to lose?”
“My hair.”
Laughter filled the room. He’d be tempted to agree if he didn’t think the reason she wanted him to shave his head was because she wanted payback. He knew good and well what this was really about. When she’d written him that cursed flowery, eloquent letter, six months ago he’d thought she was joking and laughed. Only when he’d looked up to see her watching him across the commons, her expression devastated, had he realized she’d been sincere.
“Fine,” said Julie. “I’m sure the kids will be surprised at your lack of support.” She finally sat down.
Dane took a breath. “Okay, next on the agenda.” As the meeting continued, he tried his best not to look at Julie smoldering at the other end of the table.
When the room started clearing, she was the first to gather her things. He considered calling her back and trying to talk to her alone but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
She was as unforgiving as she was beautiful. And he needed to come up with something better than a short talk in his office if he was ever going to win her back.