by Jill Maguire
“Pa?” Annie tugged on her father’s coat pocket. “Maybe that’s Nora?” The girl pointed to the red-haired woman in the pale yellow dress.
Philip looked in the direction of Annie’s tiny finger and saw a strikingly beautiful woman walking aimlessly along the rickety station platform. He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes, only daring to steal a few quick glances as she walked by. He struggled to recall the photo of Nora, but he was sure she wasn’t as beautiful as the woman he had just seen.
“I don’t think that’s her,” Philip explained to the child.
“I think it is Pa. I mean, I hope it is. I reckon she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Philip felt the warmth of anger flood his face at his daughter’s words. How soon she had forgotten the beauty of her own mother. Sara was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and this stranger who had just stepped off the stage failed in comparison.
“Quiet child,” he told her. “Nora is coming to help tend to the farm – beauty won’t help get the chores done.”
“Yes, Pa,” the child answered and lowered her arms to her side, letting go of her father’s faded canvas jacket.
The men and women at the station began to pair off and make their way home as the sun’s mid-morning heat began to beat down. Philip could feel the droplets of sweat forming on his back and he shifted his weight uncomfortably as the wetness slipped slowly down his spine. He wasn’t sure if the sun was fully to blame, or if it was his body’s way of resisting the urge to grab Annie and run away as fast as he could -- before he made a horrible mistake.
Before Philip could contemplate the idea of leaving, the young woman whom Annie had been watching like a hawk suddenly dropped her bag, sending the contents spewing across the platform. She crouched down quickly, muttering to herself as she swept everything back into her bag. Philip couldn’t help but feel pity for her as the embarrassment and fluster caused her cheeks to redden.
Annie swooped to the woman’s side and knelt down to help her. Her tiny hands collected a tarnished silver comb, an old photograph and a neatly folded letter before handing it back to the woman with a smile.
“Thank you,” the woman said as she carefully placed the items back inside her bag. “That was very clumsy of me.” As she stood, Annie caught a whiff of the woman’s intoxicating scent and recognized it right away.
“Lemon?” Annie asked.
“Pardon?” Nora questioned.
“Your perfume? Is it lemon?”
“Why, yes. Yes it is.”
The sun was so bright Annie could barely make out the woman’s features when she stood to straighten her skirt. She shielded her eyes and squinted, trying to position herself in the woman’s shadow. The young woman’s eyes were as blue as gemstones and Annie liked how her nose was dotted with just a few tiny freckles all in a row.
“My name is Annie,” the child offered.
“That’s a very nice name. My name is Nora.”
“I knew it!” she shrieked. “Pa, I knew it, I knew it! This is Nora,” she called across the boardwalk.
Philip lowered his head and prayed that Annie was wrong, that this beautiful woman standing in the sunlight across the way was indeed not Nora Sims. Beauty had no place on the farm – or in his heart.
Chapter Five
Nora looked to the man standing alone against the railing – the man the child called Pa. He seemed uninterested and was almost ignoring the child. Nora was horribly confused. How did this child know who she was? She was here to meet Philip Cohen -- a young, somewhat handsome man with the means to provide for her. The man standing awkwardly gripping the railing was obviously none of those things.
Assuming the child had her confused with someone else, Nora excused herself and walked back toward the stage coach. “I’m sorry, please excuse me,” Nora told Annie. “I’m here to meet someone and I need to see if the driver might recognize the name.”
“Philip Cohen.” Annie announced with confidence.
Nora spun around, her skirt gathering around her feet and looked wide-eyed at Annie. “Do you know Mr. Cohen?”
“Well, of course I do, silly. That’s him right over there.” Annie pointed to her father now pacing up and down the creaking planks of the boardwalk.
Nora looked at Philip and then back to Annie. “Are you sure that’s him?”
“I’m as sure as God made little green apples,” the child giggled. “He’s my Pa.”
“Well,” Nora snapped, her emotions quickly turning from embarrassment to anger. “I think there’s been a horrible mistake.”
“Please Miss Nora, I know he looks a little scruffy, but he’s the best man in the whole wide world. Will you please come say hello? He’s a little shy is all.”
Nora peered down at the child, a single blond ringlet resting against her forehead, her cheeks rosy from the sweltering heat. She was an adorable child, innocent and sweet. But as Nora contemplated the little girl’s request, she thought about the implications of her situation. If the man standing alone against the railing was indeed Philip Cohen that meant their agreement included motherhood. And Nora was not at all interested in inheriting a child.
“I’ll tell you what,” Nora whispered as she bent closer to Annie’s wishful face. “If you’ll run along and play for a few minutes, I’ll go and say hello to your father. Do we have a deal?” Annie nodded and Nora waved toward the schoolyard.
Once the child was out of earshot, Nora marched over to Philip Cohen to give him a piece of her mind. As she approached, the man stood a little straighter and removed his flimsy, dust covered hat.
“Ma’am,” he nodded.
“That young child tells me that you are Philip Cohen, is that correct?” Nora dabbed at the sweat on the back of her neck with a square of linen.
“Yes, Ma’am. The one and only.”
“I suppose you didn’t see fit to tell me in your letter that you had a child?”
“And I suppose that you must be Nora Sims?” Philip thought it rather rude for the woman not to introduce herself before slinging accusations. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Same,” Nora snarled. “And yes, I am Nora Sims.”
When he smiled, Nora noticed the crinkle of age at the corner of his eyes and the hint of a dimple beneath his beard. The weathered look of his skin and the tan line across his forehead confirmed her suspicion that he was a man who spent much of his time outdoors.
“My daughter’s name is Annie, but I’m sure she’s already told you that.” Philip flipped his hat back onto his sweat streaked hair and pulled it down slightly over his eyes.
“Yes, she introduced herself to me,” Nora agreed before quickly reminding Philip that he had yet to answer her question. “So I guess you assumed I’d be fine with adopting your child?”
“Hold on one minute. Nobody said nothing about you adopting Annie. I answered your ad because I needed someone to help out around the farm – someone to cook our meals and clean up after us. I can take care of my own daughter.”
Nora grunted with disgust, “Clean up after you? Cook for you?”
“Yes Ma’am. That’s what the ad said you were good at – that’s the only reason I answered it.”
Nora turned away from Philip and stared at a ‘wanted’ poster tacked to the side of the station house, swaying in the breeze. She was so angry that her legs began to feel weak and her throat tightened, almost cutting off her air supply. She bit down hard enough on her lip to draw the taste of blood and wondered how Clara could have done this. How could she have lied? Was she that desperate to get rid of her?
The deep howl of the stage coach driver announcing his departure forced Nora to quickly weigh her options. Get back on the stage and go east with nowhere to live when she got there, or stay here with this strange man who expected her to be his maid. Neither seemed like a good choice and as the stage jerked forward, her heart begged her to leave. Go home. When all else fails,
go home.
Nora bounded down the steps of the platform toward the rolling stagecoach, but it was too late. It pulled away in a hurry and left her stranded, all alone in a nowhere town.
****
Nora sat quietly on the buckboard of the wagon as Philip steered it up to the front of a small wooden cabin.
“Home sweet home,” Philip announced.
This was home? The home of a man with supposed means? It looked like nothing more than a dollhouse. Nora studied the A-frame roof with wooden shingles that curled at the edges like a treasure map and the flower boxes under the windows that were full of parched weeds. This was nothing like she expected and she cursed Clara under her breath.
“C’mon Nora. I can’t wait to show you my room. It’s in the loft!” Annie’s voice was full of excitement as she leapt from the back of the wagon.
“How quaint,” Nora mumbled sarcastically.
Philip offered Nora his hand to help her from the wagon. The last thing she wanted was his assistance but she obliged and placed her hand in his. She could feel the calluses on his palm against her skin and felt slightly repulsed by his touch. Thomas’ hands were always soft.
Annie ran ahead of Nora and Philip and reached the front door first. She pushed it open and it hit the timber behind it with a thud.
“Easy with the door, child!” Philip called. “I just fixed that thing.”
Nora stole a quick peek at Philip as he chuckled at his daughter’s enthusiasm. Yes, a dimple. She was sure now, on his left cheek. Nora decided quickly that with a few minor improvements, like a shave and a haircut, Philip Cohen may actually be quite handsome.
Annie’s shrill voice from the door refocused Nora’s attention. “Nora, c’mon,” the youngster beamed. “Wait ‘till you see my doll collection.”
With that, the girl turned and disappeared from the doorway leaving Nora and Philip alone on the front porch.
“She’s pretty excited to have another female around this place,” Philip explained, kicking the dirt from his boots before making his way inside.
Nora didn’t answer. She waited for Philip to enter the cabin before turning her back and surveying the property. The land was barren, dusty and secluded with no vegetation except for one lone oak tree and a large field of prairie grass on the other side of the gravel road. Other than that, this new wasteland had nothing to offer.
Nora reluctantly stepped inside the tiny cabin, expecting more disappointment from what was to be her new home. Surprisingly though, Nora was unpredictably met with the appealing coziness and country charm inside the pine walls.
She admired a large hand-carved table that almost filled the entire room and smelled the fresh scent of soap from a pile of laundry waiting to be hung on the line. The fireplace to her left was framed by an oversized mantle that held an intricate wooden box, two small photographs and a miniature tin harmonica.
“Can I get you a glass of water?” Philip called from the shoebox sized kitchen.
“No, Pa. Remember? I made fresh lemonade for Miss Nora,” Annie called from the top of the ladder leading to the loft.
Philip smiled and handed Nora a small tin cup of water. “I think Miss Nora would probably like some water first Annie. It’s a scorching hot day out there.”
“Thank you.” Nora took the cup and tried to force a smile.
Suddenly her thoughts turned to the sleeping arrangements of such a small space. Surely, there wasn’t a separate bedroom for her but surely Philip Cohen had thought to set-up a bed for her – a bed other than the one he slept in each night.
Nora secretly peeked into Philip’s bedroom beside the kitchen. Nope, only one bed. She knew it was rather rude to ask but she simply couldn’t help herself. “Mr. Cohen? Please don’t think me rude for asking, but I’m afraid I don’t see any sleeping quarters that will suit me here.”
Philip chewed the inside of his cheek and Nora could tell he was doing it to prevent a smile. He took a few steps closer to Nora and whispered, “I rather thought you’d be sharing my sleeping quarters, ma’am. Since we are going to be……”
“You can sleep up here with me Nora. Pa made my bed plenty big, so we can share. Or I can sleep on the floor and you can have my bed.”
Annie’s suggestion was much more acceptable to Nora than Philip’s and she let him know by accepting the child’s offer. “That would be wonderful Annie, thank you.” Nora shot Philip a wicked look, a look that could kill if it were possible. Sleep in his bed, pff. What a pig-headed presumptuous man.
Philip laughed silently to himself as Nora struggled to climb the ladder to the loft, one hand holding up her skirt and the other slinging her bag up each rung. A kinder, more considerate gentleman may have offered to help but at that moment, Philip simply didn’t feel like it. He was rather enjoying Nora’s huffy ascent to the loft. Stubborn woman.
Chapter Six
Philip left Nora and Annie to get acquainted. He had plenty of work that needed to be done in the barn.
“Annie, I’ll be in the barn if you need me. I’ll be in for lunch around noon.”
“Yes, Pa,” the child called from the loft.
He closed the door behind him as Annie began telling Nora the names of her dolls, each one made from a clothes peg and scrap of fabric. He shook his head as a feeling of happiness washed over him. Annie finally had someone new to talk to, even if it was a stubborn city woman who did nothing but complain.
“Out you go Ernest,” Philip told the chestnut horse as the animal lumbered out of the barn and into the paddock. Philip locked the gate behind him and watched as the animal lowered its long neck to sniff the ground. Philip felt a shiver creep down his spine. When would he stop thinking about the fire every time he looked at Ernest? In his right mind he knew none of it was the horse’s fault, but he couldn’t rid himself from the feeling of anger and guilt. If Sara hadn’t tried to rescue that old horse from the barn, she may still be alive.
Philip threw a bundle of hay toward the animal and walked back into the reconstructed barn. Four beams, sod walls and a roof, nothing like the barn he and Sara had built when they first moved to the prairie. But he was thankful that the animals were protected from the sun and grateful for his community of friends that helped him rebuild after the fire.
He thought back fondly on the day the townsfolk came after church to help him raise the barn. Nelson Gray brought a load of wood scraps from the mill and Mrs. Filbert and Mrs. Huggins brought more sandwiches then he had ever seen. They all pitched in and within a day, the animals were busy getting comfortable in their new home.
Philip mucked out Ernest’s stall and gave Sasha the pig a bit of dried corn before turning his attention to the broken lock on the chicken pen. He had put off fixing it for way too long but now, with Annie happily occupied inside, he decided today was the day it would finally get done.
****
Philip worked away the morning in the barn until the grumble in his stomach told him it was getting close to lunch time. But there was one more thing he wanted to do before he ate – he needed to visit Sara to let her know that this arranged marriage was only one of convenience, not love. Never would he betray her that way.
He closed the door of the barn and walked quickly to the towering oak tree next to the stream. It was a walk he had made a million times, to the place that brought him the most comfort.
“Hello my love,” he whispered, removing his hat and kneeling next to the white wooden cross. Those words came easily but the rest stuck to his tongue like glue. “I…..I…...” he stammered. “This woman…….she’s not……., it’s not…….” Frustration and sadness paralyzed him so he just sat in silence, listening to the wind whipping across the dusty earth.
Over the whistle of the hot summer breeze, he thought he heard Sara calling his name. He knew it couldn’t be true, but strained to hear it again. What he wouldn’t give to hear her voice one more time. Then it came again, floating on the gust of wind like a song. Suddenly Philip realized
the voice was not that of his wife at all, but of his daughter Annie. He turned to the house as clouds of black smoke billowed from the windows.
“Annie,” Philip shouted and bolted to his feet. He tripped and stumbled, his feet felt like they were being swallowed by quicksand as he tried to race home to his daughter. The short pathway back to the cabin seemed ten miles long and Philip quickly sent up a prayer. Please Lord, not another fire.
Philip rounded the corner and saw Annie standing in the front yard, her hands over her mouth.
“Annie! Are you okay?” He took the youngster’s face in his hands and looked her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt. She looked at him with eyes as big as saucers and pointed to the front door.
“Nora,” she reminded him, an odd sense of calm in her voice.
Philip turned his attention to the house and bolted inside to find Nora. Before he could take two steps, Nora tumbled out of the cabin, her dress covered in black soot, holding a charcoal brick between two potholders in her hand.
Philip stared at the woman, watching as she dunked the entire burnt mound in the wash bucket next to the porch. She muttered and grumbled to herself as she angrily wiped the soot from the front of her dress. Noticing that Philip and Annie were watching her, she spun around to face them. “Lunch is served,” she snarled and stomped back inside the cabin.
Philip and Annie burst into laughter and Philip hugged his daughter in relief. “I guess it’ll be oatmeal for lunch today,” he snickered, wiping a tear from his eye.
“I should have known she couldn’t bake fresh bread when she asked what yeast was,” Annie told him.
Philip put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and suggested they take a walk to the barn to give Nora a few minutes to clean herself up and settle her nerves.
“I finally fixed that door on the chicken coop. Come, I’ll show ‘ya.”
