His eyelids blinked sleepily. “There was someone whose opinion I cared a great deal for, who I didn’t think would be proud of a man who merely reported the war…”
Cora waited for him to continue but his breathing slowed and his head dropped to the side. Who had he cared about so much that he gave up his newspaper job to become a soldier?
She rolled her cape into a pillow. Gently, she settled his head on it. Before she could stop herself, she swiped the red curls back from his eyes; they immediately bounced back into place, every bit as stubborn as the man himself.
He whispered, “Thank you.”
Surprised, she just nodded. After she had arranged herself under a blanket, she bowed her head and folded her hands. Dear God, thank you for delivering me from evil today. Thank you for answering my prayers and keeping Simon safe. Please, give me the strength to fulfill my promises to Mama O’Leary. Amen.
Chapter 6
They arrived in St. Louis seven days later. By that time, Cora had grown exhausted of Simon’s long silences, the cramped seats, and the stale food. Stepping off the train was pure pleasure, and she smiled as she surveyed the bustling city surrounding them. The fall air was warmer than it had been in days and her legs felt as if they could dance all the way to the hotel, so happy they were for the exercise.
The remainder of their journey would be completed in stagecoaches and on horseback, but the wait for a stagecoach could be as long as a week. Cora didn’t care—she was in no hurry to be trapped with Simon again.
“We must take a walk around town after we’ve eaten. My legs are positively stiff.”
“Yes, a walk would be nice. I was here once, years ago. It’s nice down by the river.” Simon gestured down the street and stood still as he looked out into the distance.
“There’s a newspaper office here?”
“Indeed there is. More than one.”
At the hotel, they checked in and agreed to meet downstairs in forty-five minutes. Her room was clean and tidy with a soft bed made up with a welcoming pile of quilts. Water was warmed and brought up to her. She luxuriated in cleaning off the dust and sweat of their travels. She brushed out her hair and repinned it before stepping into a clean dress.
Returning to the lobby, she felt like a different person from the one who had arrived an hour earlier.
“Cora! My word, it is you.” A female voice rang out.
Who would know her here? Cora looked around the crowded room, finally spotting Elizabeth Van Dorn striding toward her. Shouldn’t she have arrived in Colorado by now?
“Elizabeth, how lovely! I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
Elizabeth pulled her close. “Then we’re almost even, dear. I didn’t expect to see you at all. Not that it isn’t a joy.” Elizabeth laughed a rich bubbling laugh which set Cora immediately at ease. She grabbed Cora’s hand. “Come, let’s sit. Tell me everything. Why are you here? Are you nursing still?”
“Oh no, Elizabeth, nothing like that. It seems you and I are headed in the same direction.”
“We are? You’re traveling to see Matthew as well?” Elizabeth smiled. “I cannot wait to see that niece and nephew of mine. I haven’t been out here since they were mere babes.”
“Mama O’Leary has asked me to be Matthew’s bride and I’ve accepted.” At the look of confusion on Elizabeth’s face, Cora grabbed her hands and hurried on. “Oh, it’s perfectly fine. Matthew has written to me and I to him. I’m quite excited really. And Matthew is in need.” She patted the other woman’s hands. “I was so sorry to hear of your sister’s passing.”
“You and Matthew? I can hardly believe it.” Elizabeth shook her head, studied her lap for a moment, then looked up, a brilliant smile on her face. “Congratulations. I do remember that crush you had on him when we were still children. This must be a dream come true.”
A dream come true? Had she favored Matthew when she was a child? Cora could hardly remember it.
“Cora! Look who you’ve found.” Simon appeared before them, a wide smile on his face. “Wasn’t it just yesterday I dropped you at the train station, dear Elizabeth?” Then he opened his arms wide and Elizabeth walked into them. As he held her close, he said, “Splendid to see you.”
While Elizabeth described to Simon the troubles she’d endured that had delayed her trip, Cora studied the two. Was there a relationship between them? She thought back, tried to remember, but couldn’t recall a single girl Simon had brought home.
“Cora was telling me her splendid news, and I was remembering that crush she had on Matthew when we were very young. Remember, you teased her about it quite unmercifully, you fiend. Matthew must be all she’s ever dreamed about.”
“Indeed,” Simon replied. “Shall we find a place to eat lunch? Here or down the street?”
“Oh no, not I. I’ve just eaten, but the café named “Maud’s” down the street prepares lovely food. They’ve certainly fattened my up over the last few days. You two must be famished and I need to freshen up. Shall I see you for supper?”
“Oh yes, please,” Cora cried and hugged Elizabeth again before letting her go.
“She must be quite disappointed.” Simon observed quietly as they watched her disappear up the stairs.
“Disappointed?” Cora gathered her cape and they started for the door. “You mean because of her travel delays?”
Simon smiled. “You aren’t all that observant for a woman.”
Cora frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Elizabeth has been in love with my brother for a decade or more. First, I believe she set it aside because she believed you wanted him. Then, she set it aside for her own sister who likely only wanted him because she thought Elizabeth did. Mary had to take everything Elizabeth wanted.”
Cora stopped walking abruptly. “My word. I had no idea. How do you know?”
“Newspaperman, remember? I’m trained to observe. I’m quite sensitive to the feelings of others.” His dimples showed and he winked at her. She couldn’t help but laugh. This was the side of Simon she actually enjoyed.
“Indeed?” Since he was quite dense at discerning her own feelings at times, she was certain she didn’t believe him.
“And my mother might have mentioned it,” he confessed.
Hearing of Elizabeth’s love for Matthew changed things considerably. She could think of little else throughout lunch. It was one thing when she only had herself, Matthew and the children to consider, but another one entirely when a good woman like Elizabeth was also involved.
Cora knew very well that she herself was not in love with Matthew. She was too practical a woman to love a man she had not spoken with in ten years. What of Elizabeth though? For Elizabeth, the love was built in, and if Cora had not made this trip, a marriage might have been possible for her. Likely had even been planned by Mama O’Leary. Then why send her? Pity? Cora bristled at the thought.
“You have done nothing but pick at your food. And now I’m forced to eat it for you.” Simon waved his hand at her plate which she’d pushed to his side of the table.
Cora rested her chin on her folded hands and watched Simon’s obvious pleasure as he dug into her steak and fried potatoes. Should she confess how she was feeling or would he ridicule her? She didn’t feel up to sparring with him today. She sighed and shut her eyes.
A feather-light touch on her face and she blinked in surprise. Simon was leaning across the table, his hand on her cheek.
“Things will work out, Nurse Cora. Just enjoy your time in St. Louis.”
For an instant she allowed herself to lean into his hand and take the comfort he offered. “Will it, Simon? I’m not certain anymore. Please remind me why I should marry your brother.”
Simon pulled his hand away and refocused on her plate. He lifted his fork to his mouth, but before taking the bite he said, “That I cannot do, Nurse Cora. Most anything else I could tell you, but not that.”
Their walk around the city was silent at first as Cora was still melanc
holy. But it didn’t last because she soon found herself in love with the rapid pace and the friendly inhabitants who spoke with them freely.
“Oh look, Simon, there’s a hospital.” Cora stood outside of it and imagined the constant buzz of activity inside.
“You miss it?” Simon asked quietly.
She looked up at him and studied his face. “As much as you likely miss writing.”
His eyes darted to hers. He smiled. “Ah, but I have been writing. Just not for the newspapers. My own enjoyment.”
“But you miss it?”
He cocked his head, considering. “Indeed. Every bit as much as you miss nursing.”
“Come. Let’s find a newspaper office.” Before he could argue, she grasped his hand and started down the street. He didn’t want her to treat him differently because of his injuries, so she did not, keeping their pace steady.
“And there it is,” Simon announced.
“Shall we go in, so you can acquaint yourself with the editor?” she asked, but was already pulling him to the door. “Perhaps there’s a story you can write about our journey.”
“What is this rush, Nurse Cora, to find me a job? I never thought you a fan.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “Private Simon, I’ll have you know, I’ve read every word you’ve ever had published.” At his look of surprise, she continued. “Your mother made certain of that.” He looked away. Had she hurt him? She relented, her voice soft as she told him the truth. “At my request.”
His eyes darted to hers. “And?”
“You are, as you have always been, a very fine writer.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Nurse Cora.”
“You’re welcome, Private, Simon.”
Chapter 7
On their third day in St. Louis, they encountered a fall festival which boasted more food than they could eat and as much entertainment as they could stand. The weather even cooperated, rising to unseasonably warm temperatures. At an outside pavilion, they listened to a band playing and watched as couples danced. Elizabeth had found a partner almost immediately. Cora could not help herself. Like old times, she grabbed Simon’s hand. “Let’s dance.” She begged, standing before him.
“I do not dance anymore.” He attempted to pull his hands free, but Cora stood firm.
“Of course you do. We’ve always danced. You were the partner Hannah and I fought over as we learned our footwork.”
“I no longer dance.” He looked down at his feet.
Cora felt one moment of sympathy, but quickly swallowed it. Simon did not want her help, or her pity.
She leaned forward and whispered near his ear, “You never were that good. I doubt I will notice any change.”
He laughed. “All right, Nurse Cora, you have convinced me. But if I fall, it shall be your fault.”
“Well it certainly wouldn’t be the first time, now would it?” Cora glanced back saucily over her shoulder, the music silencing her inhibitions.
“No,” He said quietly. “It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.”
Dancing was awkward at first as Simon found his footing. They bumped into other couples and tripped over each other, but eventually found a sort of rhythm. Dance after dance belonged to them.
When he left her at her room that night, Simon smiled and nodded his head, but said nothing. She retired inside, wishing for a chat with Hannah. What would she say? How would she advise her?
For the first time, perhaps since before the war, Cora felt alive. And happy. Happy, really? But why? Was it the journey?
Or was it the company?
Tonight she had remembered quite vividly how and when she had lost her crush on Matthew. Simon himself had caused it. When she was little more than thirteen, after a fall from her horse, he had carried her home. And not in a forced sort of way. He had held her like she was the most delicate creature in the world, not once making her feel like a burden or ridiculing her for falling as she expected him to, but with great worry and concern. Her feelings for Matthew had evaporated soon after.
She climbed out of bed and for the first time in years, she whispered her prayers by the side of the bed, her knees digging into the carpet. Dear Lord. I need your guidance. Please lend me your strength. Marrying Matthew O’Leary could lead to the biggest heart break of my life. Please walk with me. Amen.
Chapter 8
Early the next morning, a knock sounded on her door. Elizabeth? Cora climbed out of bed to answer it. Simon stood in the doorway, clutching the wall, his face creased in pain.
Cora grabbed his hand. “Is it your feet?” He nodded. “Let me dress and I’ll gather supplies and come to your room.” She knew his pain must be great to seek her assistance.
She moved swiftly and arrived at his door less than fifteen minutes later. When she peeled away his socks, his feet were pink, irritated, swollen. “Oh Simon,” she whispered.
“Just stop,” He shouted, pulling his feet from her hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want your pity. I can take care of this myself.”
“You are the most ungrateful person.”
“I am not ungrateful.” He struggled over the word. “I simply do not want you to take care of me.”
“You of all people. I don’t understand.” With her hands on her hips, she paced in front of him. “When this happened to you, I said to myself, Simon will be fine because Simon has never cared about those foolish prideful things other men have cared about. He never ran quite as fast or fought quite as well, but he was always more of a man than the others. But you reacted quite differently than I expected.”
“More of a man? You thought me more of a man?”
“Of course, I always did. Why else would I take the time to spend with you? That you could solve problems with your tongue, with your words. That you could make friends and bring admiration just though your clever word work, your humor. What is there not to respect? But then this happened.” She waved toward his feet. “And you changed. Where was the Simon I once knew?”
“I didn’t want your pity.” He spat the word. “I could only be that person you describe because I had you sparring with me, you running alongside me, you matching me barb for barb, word for word, wit for wit. I thought I had lost it when this happened. I didn’t feel like a man at all.”
“You thought me a foolish enough girl that your feet matter to me beyond not wanting you to be hurt? Did you think your feet matter to me more than your mind? Your heart? Well then I guess you never knew me very well, Private Simon.”
He grabbed her arms. “No, it was not you I did not know, Nurse Cora. It was myself. Until you reminded me, until you’ve begun to show me again.”
“If that is so…then may I bathe your feet?” she whispered.
The fight left his face and he dropped into the chair again. “Yes. Yes, you may.”
They were quiet as she prepared the water and set to work. After she had finished cleaning and massaging his injuries, she let his feet to soak. “But why, Simon, why did you send me away after? Father had trained me. You doubted my ability to care for you adequately?” She still felt the pain of rejection these four years later.
He crossed his arms over his chest, but said nothing.
“Why, Private Simon? I want to understand.”
“We weren’t equals anymore. We weren’t the same. You felt sorry for me. You felt pity for me. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want you to feel such retched emotions for me. I couldn’t bear that all you would see me as was a cripple.”
Pity? She thought back, tried to remember. Had she? She dropped her hands in her lap. She had not. What had she felt? Fear, a great wide yawning fear like an ocean without a shore that he would die, and that she wouldn’t know how to walk the earth without him. She jumped to her feet. Was that true? Had she felt like that?
“Cora, what’s wrong?” He reached for her, but she stepped away.
“I never felt pity for you.” She whispered. “Never.” She bega
n to gather her things. “I saw far too many truly pitiful things during the war to feel badly for you over your feet.” She hardened her jaw. “And you, Private Simon have pitied yourself far better than I, or anyone else could have done. If you didn’t, you would still be a writer.”
“I should have known better than to confide in you—“
“No, you should have known me better than to send me away out of fear over my pity. You should never have sent me away.” She knew her voice was too loud. She knew she was too emotional. Her father would tell her to check her emotions.
She did not want to. She wanted to let them rage and she wanted them to rage at Simon, all the hurt and humiliation and pain she’d felt and smothered, buried under the next patient and the next. Only Simon had never been a patient to her.
She left the room without another word. There was a thud against the door after she closed it, and she could not help but smile as she imagined Simon throwing something in his anger at her. How her feelings could run so quickly from anger to humor for him was beyond her. Surely Hannah would be able to explain it to her.
Chapter 9
Cora stood at the large picture window downstairs in the lobby watching the children play next to the street, chasing each other. Her mind was muddled and she felt physically drained from sparring with Simon first thing in the morning. They had eaten breakfast and lunch separately which had made her miss him. And missing him had made her angry at herself for caring.
“Cora.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to turn around.
“Cora. We need to talk. We can’t keep on like this. We’ve always talked.”
She twisted around. “Once, a long time ago, we always talked. But you’ve changed,” she charged.
“And you think you have not?”
Cora felt her mouth open.
“Ah, I see you think not.”
She snapped her mouth shut and turned away, but he grabbed her arm, his grip gentle, and turned her around. “You think I like seeing you like this? Ready to be a “mail order bride” for my brother? The strong, opinionated woman I grew up with, the one who bravely traveled with her father? Saw things that grown men couldn’t stand, grown men would turn away from? This bowing, grateful girl?” he twisted the words until they were an insult.
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