by Lucy Evanson
Emma had a lot to answer for.
Chapter 17
Mike opened the door and Cora could see from the expression on his face that she was about the last person he’d expected to come knocking.
“Is Emma home?”
He threw a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “Cora, what are you doing around here?”
“I need to see her. Now are you going to let me in or not?”
“I really don’t think you want to do that,” he said. “She’s talking to that big guy she hired, you know the one?”
“Yeah, I know him,” she said. She opened the door and stepped inside, with Mike following behind.
“Wipe your boots!” he hissed after her, though she kept walking down the hall and stepped into the parlor.
Emma and Drake were seated across from each other, each with a dainty china cup in hand, enjoying tea as if they were members of a poetry appreciation society instead of the two people who had conspired to turn her life upside down.
Her cousin startled visibly when Cora stepped in, but she quickly let a broad grin slide over her face. “What a nice surprise! We were just talking about you!”
“I bet you were,” Cora said. She took a close look at Drake. He avoided her gaze, but his face was even puffier than normal and Nathan’s fist appeared to have slightly reoriented his nose. “So let’s have things out, Emma.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a small sip, appearing to savor the tea before swallowing it down. The silence of the room weighed on them until Cora finally spoke again.
“Look, I know that you think you’ve got everything figured out, but they’ll never believe Drake in court,” Cora said. “He even told me that he would hide everything he found out if I…well, he wanted to go to bed with me. He wasn’t even going to tell you.”
Emma’s grin faded and she set down her cup. “Is this true?”
Drake’s face grew even pinker than normal. “Of course not,” he huffed. “You paid me to do a job, and I did it, didn’t I? You gonna trust her over me?”
“He even tried to force himself on me,” Cora said. “Nathan arrived just in the nick of time. How do you think he got that broken nose? You think he’d be a good witness in court?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed as her gaze flitted between Drake and Cora. “No,” she said slowly, “he probably wouldn’t.” She reached for her cup and saucer again, then took another sip. “You know what this tea needs?” she asked Drake.
“Uh…bourbon?”
Emma let her eyes close for a second, as if dealing with Drake were too much for her at the moment. “Mint, Mr. Drake,” she said. “Dried mint. Mike!”
Her husband came running.
“Bring some mint for the tea.”
“Sure thing, honey,” he said. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know. Find it,” she said, and Mike hurried away.
“So what do you say, Emma?” Cora asked. “Are you going to drop this?”
Her cousin’s sickly-sweet smile returned. “Drop this? Of course not. You’re trying to take what rightfully belongs to me. And although Mr. Drake may not be the best witness, we have another one.”
Cora felt her stomach jump. “What do you mean? Who?”
Emma’s smile broadened. “As it turns out, not too many men from Plainfield have come down here lately looking for work,” she said. “And as for men named—what was it?”
“Nathan,” Drake grunted.
“Oh, of course. Nathan,” she said. “Well, Plainfield’s a small town. It didn’t take Mr. Drake long to find out just who this Nathan in Mineral Point was. He even found a cousin, some lad named Billy, who agreed to appear in court and identify your husband if we need it. How much did we pay Billy?” she said, glancing at Drake.
“Twenty.”
“Twenty dollars,” Emma said. “Such a deal.”
Cora couldn’t help reaching behind her, feeling for the wall for support. She felt hot and dizzy; more than anything, she wanted to be somewhere else just then.
“So when the lawyer comes out on Monday, looks like I’ll have a lot to talk about,” Emma said. “You can cut your husband loose now. It’s all over.”
It seemed like all the air had disappeared from the room. Cora’s chest felt tight and it was like her throat had closed up. Drake stared at her with his dead, red-rimmed eyes, the ridiculous little teacup tiny in his hand; Emma leaned back against the sofa and smirked.
Cora turned and stumbled out, brushing past Mike, who was headed to the sitting room with a little glass jar in his hand. “I couldn’t find the mint,” she heard him say. “This one says o-re-ga-no. Will that work?”
She didn’t even bother to close the door as she went out. The day was still bright and she sucked the clean, crisp air into her lungs like a woman pulled from a river. Emma’s words echoed inside Cora as if she’d gone hollow. There was nothing more she could do. There would be no money. There would be no home. There would be no caress of Nathan’s hand along her cheek, nor his strong arm around her in the night. There would be no horses grazing in the field, nor child to bear his name. The dreams that she had so foolishly allowed to grow now melted in the bright light of day, just like the gray slush under her boots. Nathan wasn’t really hers and never had been, it turned out. Emma was right. It was over.
Cora walked for a long while, not bothering to even look up to see where she was going. It didn’t matter. The apartment could only offer her silence and bittersweet memories, and though she’d have to face that eventually, she couldn’t bear to do it now. There had been a time when the saloons on Main Street provided her refuge, but she refused to let herself sink so low again. There might be a time when she was forced back there, but it wouldn’t be today, at least.
Instead, she let the wind push her where it willed. She tried to put everything out of her mind, but it was impossible. Even the air worked to remind her of Nathan; with every gust of chilly wind she was reminded that she was wrapped in his cloak.
She was almost surprised when she looked up and found herself on the edge of town, with the spire of the church steeple rising far above her. I’ve come full circle, she thought. This is where it all started. She went up to the fence that ringed the churchyard and leaned on the gate. It swung gently open, as if beckoning her in.
Cora walked through the melting slush to the back of the church, where the several weathered and worn tables bore traces of snow. She still remembered the table where she’d sat with Nathan the day she met him, and she let her fingers trail over the splintering wood.
If only I had known how things would work out, she thought. Maybe I would have been brave enough to say “You know, you look like a good man and I could sure use one of them right now. Let’s get married and I bet things will go great between us.” The wind kicked up then, forcing a tear out of her eye.
She heard a noise behind her, and she turned to see Pastor Marshall waving to her from his office window. He stepped out of sight and then a moment later the back door to his office opened.
“Cora Booker!” he called. “How nice to see you!”
“Hello, Pastor Marshall,” Cora said as she raised a hand to brush away the tear.
“What are you up to today? Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I was just out walking and I remembered the potluck we had last fall.”
“That was a great day, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well come in and talk. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
Cora hesitated for a second, though there was no reason not to. For the first time in quite a while, she had nowhere else she wanted to be. She nodded mutely and followed him into his office; as they entered, she heard a high-pitched whistle.
“The tea!” the pastor said as he went running to the potbellied stove in the corner. He pulled the kettle of
f the fire and turned to her. “Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, that would be nice,” she said, taking a seat in front of his desk.
In a moment, he had delivered a teapot and two cups to the desktop. The steam rose gracefully as he lifted the lid to look inside. “We’ll let it steep a minute,” he said. “That’s the secret of good tea, you know. You can’t rush it. That’s the secret of many things, in fact.”
She tried to force a grin, though she was sure that the result looked odd and unhappy. If he noticed it, however, he didn’t let on. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and regarded her with his warm eyes and broad smile. “You know, I almost said ‘Cora Rice’ when I called out to you just now. Old habits die hard, I guess,” he said. “But a little bird told me a while ago that you’re married now. I am so happy for you.” He spoke slowly, emphasizing every word.
It was enough to finally make her burst into tears. Thankfully, Marshall was experienced enough to know that sometimes the best thing a man could do for a woman was keep his mouth shut and let her cry it out. When she had regained her composure enough to look at him again, he was sitting there with a furrowed brow and a handkerchief in hand.
“Take this, Cora,” he said quietly, and she mopped up the streaks of tears that had lined her face. “I imagine there’s something you’d like to talk about.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, trembling as she did so, the air flowing in staccato bursts. She told him everything, from how she had dishonored her dead uncle to how she’d hatched her evil plan right outside the office window. From Emma’s spiteful friends to Drake’s attempt to force himself on her. From the way Nathan’s smile had made her feel warm and safe, to the life with him which she had naively let herself believe was possible.
“It all went wrong the minute I thought about putting one over on that lawyer,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. “I only ended up fooling myself.”
He had been quiet for a long time, just letting her speak, but the pastor finally cleared his throat. “Cora, it sounds like you hardly need me at all. You’re seeing everything clearly, I’d say.”
“Only now that it’s too late,” she said, the bitterness sharpening her words. “I honestly never thought I’d fall in love with a man. Let alone after I married him.”
He smiled softly. “You’re not the first person to find herself in that situation.”
“Maybe not, but I ruined every chance with him the moment I laid eyes on him.”
“Are you really sure he wouldn’t have you? From what you said, it sounds like he truly cares for you. It’s a rare man who’d make dinner for a woman every night, you know.”
She felt the tears welling up again. “That’s because he’s a good man. He’s a decent man. And the very first thing I asked of him was to live a fraud. The only reason he agreed to stay with me was because he needed the money.”
“You didn’t love him at first sight?”
She laughed in spite of the tears that had filled her eyes. “No,” she said. “I thought he was handsome, but I didn’t love him. I only just realized that myself these last few days.”
“So your opinion changed as you got to know him?”
“Of course.”
“And you think that he didn’t go through the same thing? You think that there’s no way he could have come to love you as well?”
Her eyes stung again as if fresh tears were about to well up. Pastor Marshall was well-meaning, but he couldn’t have known how his words hurt her. He couldn’t have known how painful it was for him to imply that a hope still existed when she was certain that there was none.
She shook her head. “I’m sure,” she whispered. “He left already. I’m alone now.” She wiped her eyes again and sat up as straight as she could. “Now I have no money, no man, and no way out of this. I’ll end up back in my old life before I know it.”
“I wouldn’t be so fast to think like that,” he said. “It seems to me that you’re being awfully hard on yourself, Cora.”
“For good reason. Look at what I’ve done.”
“I know you’ve done things in your life that I can’t condone,” he said. “But with forgiveness, all things are possible. Do you believe that?”
“I’d like to.”
“You should, because I’ve seen it happen,” he said. “But there’s more to it than just belief.” He patted the thick book on his desk. “In here there’s a wonderful line about a man who forgives his tormentors because he wishes to be forgiven. Do you understand? You have to forgive in order to be forgiven. And that means forgiving yourself too.”
Cora took a moment to steady herself and breathe deeply. “I understand what you’re saying, Pastor,” she said. “I just think it’s going to take a little while.” She wiped away the tears that still flowed down her cheeks. “What verse is that from, what you said about forgiving?”
“Verse? Oh, that wasn’t from the Bible,” he said, turning the book over so that she could see the title. “This is The Count of Monte Cristo. Have you read it?”
She shook her head.
“You should some time,” he said. “It’s a great book. It’s just not the Good Book,” he said, smiling.
Cora wiped her eyes one last time and laid the handkerchief on the edge of his desk. “I guess I’ll be going, then,” she said. “I’ve taken enough of your time.”
“Nonsense,” he said as he stood up, taking her hand and squeezing briefly. “Any time you need to talk, I’m here. I’m going to be praying for you tonight.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“But I want to see you here tomorrow morning, all right?”
She nodded.
“I’m serious. You come to services tomorrow and you’ll feel better,” he said. “I guarantee it.”
“I will,” Cora said, then turned to go, giving a final small wave just before she stepped outside. The sun was dropping toward the horizon now, and the warmth of midday was being swept away by a brisk wind rolling across the countryside.
Cora wrapped her cloak close around herself and finally started for home, though she was dreading it. The boutique was already closed when she got there, so she couldn’t even drop in on Becky to put off her arrival. She could only take a deep breath and force herself to climb the stairs.
It was worse than she had expected. The apartment had always seemed a touch small for the two of them, but for her alone it was cavernous. The rooms that had once been filled with such mundane everyday sounds—the scrape of a skillet on the stovetop and the whish of a broom upon the floor, their conversation and his laughter—now had gone silent, offering only an occasional creak of a floorboard or the rattle of a windowpane. It was as if the place had become haunted by his absence.
That night Cora fought to fall asleep as Pastor Marshall’s words rolled around in her head. Forgive to be forgiven. With forgiveness all things are possible. It would have been wonderful to believe that, but it all seemed just too much. She finally rose and went to Nathan’s bed, where she eventually fell into a fitful, restless sleep. When she woke the next morning, she had two seconds of bliss before she remembered what had happened the previous day.
Cora took her normal seat, on the aisle in the pew closest to the door. She hadn’t meant to get there so early—she had been the first person to show up, in fact—but she had hardly slept anyway and it had been too painful to remain in the apartment by herself. Gradually others began to arrive and slowly fill the remaining pews.
She didn’t realize that Emma and her family were there until Emma had already passed her, gliding down the aisle toward her usual seat right up front. She hadn’t said a word as she entered, though Mike had murmured “Good morning” as he’d herded the boys along.
Forgive to be forgiven, Cora thought. She stood up and followed them to the front of the church. “Good morning, Emma,” she said.
“Why, Cora, I do believe this is the second time you’ve been to church in the last four months,”
Emma said, loud enough for those around her to hear. “Are you quite well?”
“I just wanted to say something,” Cora said, taking a deep breath before going on. “I forgive you.”
Emma looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be surprised, confused or angry. She settled on confused. “Forgive me? For what?”
“For everything,” Cora said simply.
“You forgive me? You’re forgiving me?” Emma’s voice grew shrill as she went on, but she stopped herself when Pastor Marshall entered from his office.
“Yes, I am,” Cora whispered, then quickly made her way back to her seat.
“Good morning, everybody,” the pastor said as he went to the podium. He looked tired, as if he had been the one to spend a restless night, and his easy smile was nowhere to be seen. He looked out at the crowd, scanning the faces until his eye settled on Cora. He nodded slightly at her, then cleared his throat. “You all will have to excuse me this morning,” he said. “I was inspired to write a new sermon yesterday, and this idea just would not let go of me. I was up both late and early working on this, because it’s something that presents a grave danger to every person in this room.” He paused to again look around, as if trying to decide who would be most susceptible to this danger. His eye settled on Emma.
“The danger we’ll discuss this morning,” he said, “is lust.”
Emma nodded her head in agreement and tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. She met eyes with Cora and smirked.
“Now I know that when I say the word ‘lust’, you imagine the physical pleasures of this earthly realm,” he said. “And that is one part of it; don’t get me wrong. But there are other types of lust that will corrupt your soul as surely as we’re sitting here today.”
Emma nodded.
“There is, for example, the lust for wealth.” The pastor again let his gaze sweep across the room, flitting from face to face until it returned to Emma. He looked at her like a disappointed parent. She stopped nodding.
