The Book of Broken Hearts (37 page)

I was starting to be okay with that.

“Girls.” Mari clapped her hands once, startling us out of our haze with her usual melodramatic flare. “One more oath.” She stood and rummaged through Celi’s closet. “To make it official.”

“Not this again,” Lourdes said.

“Mari, you need to chill. I’m serious,” Celi said. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack with all that drama.”

I raised my hand. “If you bring out a knife, I’m out.”

“No knives.” Mari rejoined us on the floor. She’d found a tiny little tea light in a ceramic Easter-egg shell and she set her lighter to it. “Jude Catherine Hernandez, it’s time we initiate you properly.”

Now, at the edge of this great wide gash in the earth, I hug the book to my chest and whisper the new vow my sisters gave me.

I, Jude Hernandez, vow to always and forever, under all circumstances, within or outside of my control . . .

“You need to figure out the rest yourself,” Mari said. And that’s when she handed me the book.

So this is me, sitting on a rock surrounded by billions of years of everything and nothing all at once, figuring it out myself.

The fire crackles with anticipation.

It seems fitting that the book that held the long and winding record of Hernandez heartbreak would meet its end here, and I take one last look at the cover, trace my fingers over the title.
The Book of Broken Hearts.

I tip it into the fire.

It bubbles and curls and smokes, and I watch it burn, say my final good-byes to the past.

Eventually the small fire burns down to embers, and I douse the last of it with water and dirt. The oath, the pictures, the flowers, the words, the stories of broken hearts, the old ghosts . . . nothing but smoke and ash, and I take a satisfying breath, exhale it out over the canyon.

I look to the rim where we had our coffee at sunrise, where Emilio has been patiently waiting on the bike. He smiles when he sees me. Stubble, dimples, scar. My heart lights up from the inside out.

He cocks his head to the side, dangles my silver Puerto Rican flag key chain like a dare, and I answer with a raised eyebrow, a grin.

Yes, I’m ready.

He’s already packed up camp. We’ve been on the road two weeks; he’s gotten it down to a science. We still have a ways to go, and when we finally return home, I know Papi will be different. He’s at the stage where each day costs him a little more.

Yeah, I promised him I’d take this trip, but not because it really was his final wish. I did it because he was right—it
was
in my heart. And even if it ends right now, if Emilio turns us back toward Colorado and the road home, I’ll still know it was the most amazing experience of my life. I looked upon ancient rocks and cave paintings, rode a mule to the bottom of the canyon and back up again, watched California condors with a six-foot wingspan float on the currents over the gorge. I rafted on the Colorado River and slept in a cave with baby bats and counted more stars that I had numbers for, including Orion, our self-appointed travel guardian, who follows us on every road, into every forest and ancient riverbed.

And I’ve done it side by side with Emilio Vargas, the boy I’d been warned against my entire life.

I smile now as I remember that first day at Duchess, how much has changed, how much I’m leaving in the fading smoke as I walk back toward the motorcycle.

Without a word, Emilio holds out his hand, and I take it, no doubts this time. I swing my leg up and over the seat, strap on my helmet, and slip my arms around his waist.

He turns the key.

He jumps on the kickstart.

Valentina roars to life.

We zoom back onto the road in a sapphire blur of blue and white and chrome, the wind at our backs, the morning sun warm on our faces, and then the moment is gone.

I have no idea what the next moment will bring.

But it’s a new day. I’m rockin’ a brand-new pair of super-cute jeans. And I love the wind in my hair.

I’m ready for the unknown.

No regrets,
princesa.

True confessions: the earliest seeds of this story were planted in my subconscious way back in the eighties by the movie
Grease 2
. I spent most of middle school crushing on Michael Carrington, and I learned all the words to “Cool Rider” and “(Love Will) Turn Back the Hands of Time,” and I totally ran around singing and pretending I was Stephanie Zinone (only with slightly less awesome hair).

Since then lots of non-imaginary people have worked hard—
without
musical accompaniment—to help me bring this book to life.

Love and endless gratitude to my husband, Alex, who introduced me to all the best things: Spaghetti Westerns, empanadas, Malbec, coffee under the predawn stars, road trips. “You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend . . .” Thanks for being my B.G.O. and for taking such good care of me.

Jen Klonsky, even though you’ve never experienced the cinematic wonder that is
Grease 2
, you’re still an honorary Pink Lady and an Editor of Awesome, and working with you on Jude and Emilio’s story has been one of the greatest joys of my career (not to mention, like, totally fun). Those
FNL
references will always be for you!

Ted Malawer, frankly, I’d be lost in this crazy business without you. Six years, several books, and billions of neurotic e-mails (um, mine, not yours!) after our first call, you continue to inspire me, and I’m grateful for your encouragement, patience, and sense of humor every step of the way.

To Patrick Price, who graciously welcomed our new partnership and this book with enthusiasm and dedication, and to the entire crew at Simon Pulse, including Craig Adams, Mara Anastas, Bethany Buck, Jim Conlin, Paul Crichton, Katherine Devendorf, Nicole Ellul, Jessica Handelman, Victor Iannone, Russell Gordon, Dan Potash, Mary Marotta, Christina Pecorale, Lucille Rettino, Dawn Ryan, Emma Sector, Michael Strother, Sara Saidlower, Carolyn Swerdloff, and countless others: You guys are Team Fabulous. Seriously. You need matching leather jackets, and if it were up to me, you’d get Sugar Sweet Sunshine cupcakes every day.

High fives to my fellow writers and readers who offered editorial feedback, moral support, wine, cookies, or some or all of the above, including Zoe Strickland, Amy Mair, Courtney Koschel, Jessi Kirby, Heidi R. Kling, Rhonda Stapleton, Aprilynne Pike, Bronwen Durocher, and the 2009
Debutantes. Your contributions enhanced both this story and my well-being, which is no small feat.

Hugs to my friends and family, especially Dad, who took me out on the Harley way before I thought it was cool, and who patiently read through all the Jude and Emilio kissing scenes just to fact-check my highly questionable biker babe authenticity; Mom, who ensures that the world knows the instant my books hit the shelves; Moma, who taught me how to make the best
ensalada rusa
ever (second to hers, of course); and Popa, my favorite
viejito
, who always laughs when I say completely inappropriate stuff
en español
.

A super shout-out to readers, book bloggers, librarians, teachers, booksellers, and all the other bookworms of the world, without whom I’d be talking to myself. Well, more than usual. You guys rock!

Finally, a very special thanks to Emmalie Conner and Cheryl Parrish of the Colorado Alzheimer’s Association, who generously donated their time and expertise to review my manuscript. Though this story is a work of fiction, I endeavored to portray a family’s experience of early onset Alzheimer’s authentically, and any errors are my own.

Currently, more than five million Americans are living with Alzheimer’s disease. To the families here and abroad who’ve been touched by Alzheimer’s, you are forever in my heart.

Also by Sarah Ockler

Bittersweet

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

First Simon Pulse hardcover edition May 2013

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Ockler

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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.

Designed by Mike Rosamilia

Jacket designed by Jessica Handelman
Jacket photograph copyright © 2013
by Steve Gardner/Pixelworks Studios, Inc.
Author Photograph by R. Alex Morabito

The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Ockler, Sarah.

The Book of Broken Hearts / by Sarah Ockler.—First Simon Pulse hardcover edition.

p. cm.

Summary: Jude has learned a lot from her older sisters, but the most important thing is this: The Vargas brothers are notorious heartbreakers. But as Jude begins to fall for Emilio Vargas, she begins to wonder if her sisters were wrong.

ISBN 978-1-4424-3038-9

[1. Love—Fiction. 2. Family life—Fiction. 3. Argentine Americans—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.O168Bo 2013

[Fic]—dc23

2012033041

ISBN 978-1-4424-3040-2 (eBook)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7