by Rachel Hauck
Now the reddish-gold hue of an August morning inched around the drawn blinds. The lamp next to Cora’s bed flickered, the wick thirsty for more oil.
Birch pushed out of the chair and gathered the washbowl and pitcher as he headed down to his kitchen. He needed coffee. And to see about breakfast. He’d let Cora sleep until he came back up with a tray for her. Hopefully she’d be hungry.
Then they could settle where she might live while the shop got repaired. If the shop got repaired. From what he saw last night, it would take a hay bale of money to make it right again.
He paused at the sink, resting his hands on the porcelain edge, and gazed out the window toward the horizon, pink and gold with the dawn.
His neighbor Wade came by to feed the stock, but Birch needed to weed the garden and mend the leather harnesses. Birch appreciated Wade; his kindness gave him room to tend to the woman he loved.
Last night liked to scare him to death. Hearing the fire siren was one thing. But racing toward town to fulfill his volunteer duties only to discover it was the wedding shop under the weight of the smoke nearly tripped him to the ground.
He arrived just as Cora ran into the burning building to get her “things.” Birch took off after her even though Chief Hayes stopped him.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“So you’re going to leave her in there by herself?” He broke free and charged after her, finding her on the mezzanine floor, fainted on the other side of a fallen, burning beam.
Birch leaned against the sink, staring out of the window, his heart pulsing at the memory of seeing her collapsed amid the flames. He’d nearly lost her. The only woman he’d ever loved. And by gum, he wasn’t going to waste another minute standing back and watching, wishing she were part of his life.
She’d been a-muttering in her sleep. Something about Rufus, calling out to him. But that scalawag wasn’t even in town.
Birch yanked the loaf of bread from the wooden box and slapped the skillet on the stove, greasing the cast iron with a scoop of lard. He whipped up some eggs and milk and dipped in the bread.
He got the coffee to percolating, and a kettle of hot water for Cora’s tea. She never cared much for coffee.
From the china cabinet in the dining room, he gently reached in for two cups and saucers of Mama’s good Lennox set. It was a wedding present from her aunt when she married Daddy. Boy, did she treasure it with all her heart.
Setting the china on a tray along with butter and syrup and Mama’s polished silverware, Birch tended to the frying toast, letting it get good and crispy.
He poured a cup of coffee for himself, then fixed Cora a cup of tea with sugar and cream and carried the tray up to the guest room, the stairs creaking with each step.
“How bad is it?” Cora said, sitting up as he came in. She looked tired but pretty, so very pretty with her thick tresses wild around her face.
Birch left the door open, swallowing the lump in his throat, setting the tray on the bed next to Cora. “The porch is gone, and the whole back of the shop is pretty charred. The pantry is pretty burned up. Place smells like smoke and, of course, there’s water damage.”
“My money, my deposits . . . tins of money . . . under the mudroom floor . . .”
Birch nodded to the table under the window. “I found the money tins. Brought them back with me.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled, sitting back, covering her face with her hands. “Do I want to ask about the inventory? I’m such a fool. Such a fool.”
“Don’t say that, Cora.”
“But I am, and the whole town knows it.”
“I reckon no one is saying you’re a fool. Especially since you nearly bought it when you collapsed in the smoke.” He offered her the cup of tea. “Why in tarnation did you run into a burning building?”
“My ledgers, two days’ worth of deposits. I’ve just started banking at the new bank on High Avenue. Downtown Mutual. Oh, Birch, tell me, how is my inventory?”
“Well, if you mean what you stored in that locked room, probably fine. The stuff in the window might have smoke damage, but the fire embers didn’t get that far. The flames got put out before it spread across the mezzanine. Your ledgers and all should be fine. I’ll run in today, look for your deposit.”
“Thank the Lord.” She sipped her tea, her golden-brown eyes brimming. “Was it the candles? That caused the fire?”
“If they did, they melted in the blaze. Were they on the back porch?”
“Yes.” The word caught in her throat. “I left them burning when I went to find Rufus.”
“The wind was mighty strong last night.”
She tilted her gaze toward the ceiling, tears slipping down her cheeks. “The only thing I have in this world is the shop and I nearly destroyed it. For what? A man who was supposed to love me? Supposed to marry me? But couldn’t even keep his date for dinner.”
“What happened?” Birch set a slice of fried bread on a plate, spread it with butter and syrup, and passed it to Cora. She took it, but she didn’t seem to recognize what she was doing.
“He was late, so I went down to the dock only to find out he’d gone. Some sort of emergency. But, Birch . . .” Cora fixed her gaze on him. “I saw him, through the smoke, coming to rescue me.” She shifted around, plumping pillows behind her back. “Yes, now I remember. I saw his blue coat. Rufus came in and rescued me. Didn’t he? Tell me, was he there? Where is he?”
“Rufus didn’t rescue you, Cora.” Birch shook his head. “That was me. I rescued you.”
“You?” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “You were the man with the buttons, like the captain jacket?”
“The chief made me throw on bunker gear. Said he wasn’t going to lose two of us in the fire.”
“So it was you?”
Birch motioned to her plate. “Breakfast ought to make you feel right again. Eat.” He sipped his coffee, the delicate china felt foreign in his big rough hands.
She took a small bite. “When I was little, the dark always frightened me,” she began, not so much to Birch but to the room. Perhaps to herself. “I’d crawl into bed with Daddy and Mama, and Daddy would tell me I was only afraid of the dark because I couldn’t see. Then he’d light a match and with that one little flame I could see the whole room.” She dabbed her cheek with her fingers, a soft laugh on her lips. “He’d let the match burn down to his fingers before blowing it out, but he’d usually burn himself. He’d toss the match away, swearing, and Mama would scold him. ‘Ernie, please, your language.’ Then he left when I was seven. I was really scared. But Mama was strong. Ernest Junior tried to be the man even though he was only ten. They’d remind me that the only thing we can’t see in the dark is the light. But if we light a lamp or a match, or look at the moon, then we can see. I wanted to see Daddy so badly. Then after a few months, he came home. And the whole house was filled with his light.”
Birch eased back down into the corner chair, listening, barely breathing, wanting her to go on.
“He left again in the panic of ’14. Returned again on a bright fall day. Everything was right again. Then EJ went off to war. Only to die. Those were dark days.”
“Yes, they were.”
She glanced over at him as if realizing he was there. “Of course . . . you were there. In the war, in the darkness.” She glanced at the plate in her lap. “This looks good, Birch.”
He was happy to see her cut up a bite and chew, nodding her approval.
“Can I ask you something?”
She peered at him, waiting.
“What is it about Rufus that holds you, Cora? Why do you wait for him?”
She set down her fork and knife. “Because I . . . I guess . . . I guess I want to believe him. If I hold on to hope, then he can’t abandon me. Not like Daddy. Not like EJ.”
“EJ didn’t abandon you. He was killed.”
“But he’s not here, is he? Nor is Daddy. I just can’t believe one more man would abandon me, Birch.” She fingered the
pendant about her throat. The one that Rufus gave her that glorious Fourth of July. Why? To prove his affection. What did that Daughtry fellow know? “Not one more man. I’ll shrivel up and die if it’s true.”
He scooted to the side of the bed. “But I’m here, Cora. Right here with you. I won’t abandon you. I’d never abandon you.”
“Sweet Birch,” she said, smoothing her hand along his cheek. “You are always there for me, Birch.”
“Then marry me.” The words flowed with the force of his heart. He’d meant to propose in a sweet, kind way, holding hands, giving her his mother’s ring, but he could not let this moment escape.
“Marry you?” She pulled her hand back.
“Yes, marry me.” He jumped up, ran down the hall to his bedroom, and fished Mama’s ring from the velvet box in his sock drawer. When he returned to Cora, he knelt beside her, holding up the box. “I love you. I’ll always be here for you.”
“Oh, Birch.” Her fingers trembled as she pressed them to her mouth.
“No, not ‘Oh, Birch.’ Say, ‘Yes, Birch, I’ll marry you.’ I’ve waited for you, Cora. Waited through the war, waited while you mourned EJ, waited while you mourned your aunt Jane, waited while you took over the shop. I ignored my dad when he said to go on and court you. I thought you needed time. Well, it backfired. Rufus came along, and I’ve watched you pine for that bumpkin ever since. If he loves you, why ain’t he married you?”
Cora sighed, setting her plate back on the tray, tears glistening in her eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know. He was supposed to come for dinner last night. He didn’t show so I went down to the dock. I was told he’d left. Something about St. Louis and a baby. Some man named Daughtry told me he was married.”
Birch sat back with a sigh, cradling the ring box in his palm. “I’d heard things but never knew for sure. Rumors.”
“The man went on to say I was the only woman who’d not figured him out. And he’s not building his business like he keeps telling me. He’s one of the richest men on the river.”
“So he’s been lying to you?”
“Birch . . .” Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and for a moment, she shook off the burden of the fire. “Will you go with me to St. Louis, Birch?”
“Why on earth do you want to go to St. Louis? To see him? Cora, you have a shop to rebuild. Don’t waste time and money chasing that cad.”
“I have money, Birch. Believe it or not. I can rebuild the shop. Daddy made me get insurance when I first took over. But what I want is the truth. Please, drive with me to St. Louis. I have an address. I think it might be where he lives.”
“Cora, you sat here reminiscing about the darkness, and now you’re asking me to go with you straight into it?”
“Because I need to find the light. I’m tired of being in this . . . darkness. Yes, that’s what it is. A darkness and I can’t see. What is the truth? Otherwise, I think I’ll keep foolishly hoping.” She’d cupped her hand against his arm, her voice firm, her gaze bold. “I waited my whole life for a man like Rufus. One who would sweep me off my feet. Just when I thought I was too old for such romantic ideas, he walked into the shop and straight into my heart. He had this twinkle in his eye, the kind one is born with, as if one of heaven’s stars thought he was so lovely it swooped down to live in his gaze. I could barely breathe. He smiled at me and I thought I’d swoon right then and there.”
Birch pulled away, tucked the ring box in his pocket, and hovered by the door. “Now you know how I feel about you.”
“I’m sorry, Birch, but I must be honest.”
“If you value honesty so much, then why do you put up with lies from him?”
“Love, I guess. Birch, will you go with me? Do I even have a right to ask you? I’d ask one of my friends, but most of them are married with families to tend. Daddy’s gone . . . Mama.”
“Cora, rest.” He moved back to the bed, gently pressing her against the pillows, removing her plate. “You’re still wrung out from last night. The doc said you took in a good bit of smoke. You need to take it easy.”
“But will you? Please.”
“You’re a grown woman, ain’t you? Go by yourself when you’re all recovered.” He didn’t want to witness that brute with his hands, and lips, on Cora.
“Birch, I can’t do it alone. One look at him, one sweet word of explanation, and I’m afraid I’ll get all confused and confounded. Believe whatever lies he tells me. I don’t trust my heart to discover the truth. I’m asking you. Be my light.”
He yanked up the tray and started for the door. “Only time I can go is on a Sunday. I can’t leave on a weekday to go gallivanting. But I’m not going with you until you’re recovered.”
“Thank you, Birch, thank you.”
“What if he’s not there, Cora? Or worse, what if there is a wife and baby?”
“Then I’ll know it, won’t I? I can close the door on Rufus St. Claire and go on with my life.”
Then perhaps she’d say yes to him. Become Mrs. Good. “All right, but you think long and hard about this, Cora. You’ll be busting into another woman’s life, telling her the man she loves ain’t true.”
“Doesn’t she deserve to know?”
“What for? You seemed to enjoy being in the dark all this time.”
“That’s rather unfair. All I wanted was to believe.” Her lip quivered. “I loved him. I suppose I still do.”
He sighed. Darn if she didn’t just wiggle into his heart even further. “I’ll go with you. In the meantime, you be thinking about where you want to live while the shop is being rebuilt.”
Her smile was just about all the reward he needed.
“I’ll go by Tony Nance’s place later,” he said. “See about getting a crew to clean up the shop and start putting it back together.”
“You really are too good to me.”
“What would be the point in telling you I love you if I didn’t show you?” He collected his cup and saucer and put them on the tray. “You eat your breakfast now.” He motioned to Cora’s plate on the nightstand. “I got some chores to attend. There’s clean towels in the bathroom down the hall. If you need me, just ring that bell.” Cora reached for the cowbell on the nightstand, gave it a clang. Birch grinned. “I’ll come running.”
Jogging down the stairs, he set the tray by the sink and snatched up the rest of the fried toast, dunking it into his coffee. She was in his house. He was taking care of her. If that didn’t win her heart for marriage, what would?
Grabbing his hat off the hook by the back door, he walked out of the house whistling a tune, into the dew of the dawn, into the day’s welcoming light.
HALEY
February 4
There couldn’t have been a better day to ride the Harley down I-65 to Birmingham. The first Thursday in February, yielding a perfect, beautiful, clear, cold day. Mom suggested she take Dad’s truck since he drove his new BMW to work, but Haley wanted the freedom of the Harley.
A month after applying for the wedding shop renovation permits, she needed a day on the road to think, clear her head, connect with God.
But before hitting the road, Haley pulled up to the shop. She’d left her notebook with all her plans on the mezzanine.
Up the stairs two at a time, energy surged through her. It happened every time she entered the shop. Since Cole and Gomez had knocked down the walls, a light filled the salons. Haley gazed down from the mezzanine. A glow emanated from the shop beyond the light falling through the windows. As if the old place was relieved someone loved it again.
She patted the banister. “Don’t worry. I’m doing all I can.” She’d returned to her knees again and again, asking God to help her find the money and resources she needed.
She had an appointment with a bank in Nashville next week.
Back down the stairs, she hit the foyer when the front door swung open. Dax’s tall broadform filled the doorway.
Haley stumbled backward, her heels tripping over the bottom step. “W-what are you
doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Dax inched inside, a faux humble expression on the high cut of his cheeks.
“Out. Right now.” She fired toward him, shoving his six-foot-three frame out the door. His presence tainted her shop, its beauty and innocence. “Get out.”
Dax stepped back, her force against him like a fly hitting a tree. “Calm down, Haley. Geez.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She pressed the old lock push button and pulled the door closed behind her, locking it, then clutched her notebook to her chest. “How’d you know I was here?”
“I didn’t. But I remembered you said something about an old wedding shop downtown. I saw your bike out front when I drove past.” He grinned like he’d discovered gold at the end of a rainbow.
“Good-bye then.” Haley started down the walk, toward her bike and the dark car parked behind it, a shiver in her bones deeper than the cold.
This was so Dax. Just showing up. Trying to inch back into her life. Win her over with his big fat lying eyes and corny grin that used to make her knees weak. That still carved a pit in her stomach, if she were honest.
“I’ve missed you.” Dax leaned his muscled frame against his car, his feet buried in the black snow lining the curb. “I wanted to see if we could—”
“We? There’s no we. No us.” She’d punch him in the arm if he’d feel any of it beneath his coat and wad of California beach muscles. “What about ‘I never want to see you again’ left room for doubt?”
“You were mad.”
“Of course I was mad. Dax, you are married.” She balled her fist, ready to swing. Oh, she wanted to swing, hit his perfect nose with her fist. “And you drew me into your web of lies and deceit. I can’t blame you because I willingly, stupidly went along!”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that the situation has been rectified.”
“Rectified? Your marriage and children have been rectified. Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’m getting divorced.”
Haley laughed. “Sure, like the ten thousand other times you said that? All the times I begged you to leave her?” She’d lost a piece of her soul when she hooked up with the ox watching her with a smirk and steel-blue eyes. “Do what you want, Dax, but count me out. There is not now nor ever will be a we, as in you and me.”
