Even a muddy rain is more beautiful out here, she thought. And her mind began to drift to stories and imaginations once again.
“Cora,” Joshua’s voice came from behind, startling her.
She turned around and peered to see Joshua among the hay and stalls of the few animals harboring from the weather, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Up here,” he called, and Cora looked up.
She made her way up a narrow winding of stairs that made their way to a loft in the barn.
A bed, and a small seating area were settled, as if for a makeshift bedroom. The extra hay bales and milk tins added an extra flair to the scene.
“This is quite lovely,” she said.
Joshua gave a mock curtsy. “Anything for you, dear.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Please don’t patronize me, Dansby.”
“That hurts. Not even going to call me by my name?”
Cora sighed and sent him a darting look. His blue eyes glistened with playfulness, as when they first met. Ever cool and mischievous.
“It’s an old trick I learned working for a butcher,” she smirked. “Never give them a name, or it makes it more complicated when you have to--”
Joshua laughed. “Please,” he held up his hand. “I think I know where you’re going with that, and I hope you don’t succeed.”
The two stood in the loft in silence, Cora’s eyes flitting around, taking in the atmosphere. Joshua was still very aware of her outfit, and the entirety of the situation seemed odd. They joked around, but it seemed to be, for both of them, a way to cope with the unwarranted and awkward situation they found themselves in.
“It’s raining heavily out there, and it’s dark, so I don’t think we should make a run for the main house,” Joshua said. “There’s a bed--”
Cora’s eyes grew wide. “You mean--”
Joshua stopped, his hands going up in defense. “Oh, no, no, no! I wasn’t saying--” He rubbed his hand uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t insinuating anything--” he sighed. “I was going to say that you should make yourself as comfortable up here as you can, and I’ll just be fine on the main floor.”
“Oh--oh--” Cora’s face blushed red as she realized how embarrassing of an assumption she had made. “Right, of course.”
Joshua coughed.
“Anyway, I should--I should--”
He gestured and Cora realized that she stood between him and the way below. Flustered, she stepped out of the way and swiped at her soppy hair.
“Right, sorry...I didn’t mean to…”
Joshua began heading down, calling behind. “Feel free to dry yourself with some towels I have up there...and, ah...I promise I won’t look if you need to---ah…” his voice trailed off without quite finishing, and he cleared his throat.
In that moment, Cora couldn’t help but laugh. This wasn’t at all how she ever pictured the first night of her married life to start. But then, anything she ever read in stories was proving to be completely unuseful in her current situation.
This is real, Cora told herself. This is my life.
Chapter 5
The sun peeked in through the barn early that morning. A loud cock-a-doodle-doo sounded from the barn, and Cora woke up with a start.
Didn’t that only happen in books?
For a brief moment, Cora had almost forgotten where she was. The bed, though certainly just a barn extra for field hands, was far more comfortable than the lumpy wretch that Cora had grown accustomed to at the hostel, and even better than what Mrs. MacDonough had to offer.
After she was sure that Joshua had settled in, and there was no chance of mischief, she had strung out the outer layers of her clothes to hang over the loft railing to dry in the night. Carefully working enough layers on to be somewhat decent, and after tightening the laces of her boots, Cora made her way down to the main floor.
“Hello?” she called. A few moments passed and nothing. Cora wandered out the big open doors of the barn, and looked around. The land looked different in the light, and without the cover of heavy rain and mist. The ground was still wet, but water droplets and dew illuminated the green all around. She followed the fenced area, where some pigs were sloppily rolling in the mud, eating at a basin with fresh feed.
Past the small farming area, with the animals, and a small plot of vegetables, the sandy road mark began to wind its way under and through great trees sprinkled in rows for as far as Cora could see. The sun bounced through the branches, and kaleidoscopes with the leaves sporting rain drops. Little red orbs also glistened in contrasting pockets against the green-leaf backdrop.
“Joshua?” she called out again.
As she continued to walk, she caught glimpse of a white farmhouse, smoke tufting out from the red brick chimney in the distance.
“Joshua?” Cora wandered from the wide wrap-around porch and into the house, where she immediately felt the smell of food coming from the room beside the entranceway.
“You’re finally up,” Joshua let down a plate of food on the table. Potato hash, eggs, and some meat--Cora’s eyes widened.
“Did you do all this?” she said.
“It’s more lukewarm now,” he said. “But I figured I’d go ahead and have you eat something at least.”
“How long have you been up?” Cora sat down on the wooden chair at the table.
It smelled good.
Joshua laughed. “A lot longer than you have,” he said. “A lot.”
He pulled up the suspenders that were limp at the side of his trousers through his arms and snapped them to his shoulder. Cora couldn’t help but still blush.
“I’m sure by now you noticed the cherry trees on your way in,” he said.
“They were beautiful,” Cora said.
The two of them were having a real conversation, and Cora smiled inwardly at that. Perhaps the end of a rain really did breathe in new life.
“One of our best exports,” he said. “This town grew up around, well, the river, of course, but also just as much the prize cherry orchard that my grandfather started.”
He pushed his feet into heavy work boots.
Cora smirked. “For a high society man, you’re really keen on being a farm boy.”
Joshua Dansby laughed, and Cora’s heart beat at the dimple that flashed in his cheek, his smile spreading across his face.
“Out here, it’s not so cut and dry as the East, I’m sure. Everyone’s got a little bit of farm boy in ‘em here. You have to be or you won’t make it.”
Joshua coughed into his sleeve.
“Are you alright?” Cora stood up.
He waved his hand at her. “I’m fine. Just a morning cough, is all.”
“You should be careful,” she said. “It’s real easy to catch a bad cold after a rain. You should take it easy, Joshua.”
Joshua stood up and made his way to the door, swinging his hat onto his head.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got to stake out for harvesting soon, so I don’t have much time to hang around. If you need me, I’ll be out in the trees.”
His piercing blue eyes glinted her way. “And, Cora?”
“Yes?”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Thank you for using my name.”
Cora pursed her lips and looked away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having warmed up to him.
In the least, she thought, he’s not repulsive.
And her heart beat as she thought of his smile, and those deep, blue eyes…
There wasn’t much to do around a great big house all alone. Cora amused herself by perusing the small library that Joshua built up in his study, of which there were many books she had never even heard of. It was enough to keep her occupied for a good part of the morning. She sat in a large armchair, under the portrait of a stout, old man with the same mischievous, cold stare that Joshua Dansby held. No doubt an old relative of years past.
She found herself entirely consumed by a fascinating article in a mag
azine, a fictitious story about a man and a stranger’s journey racing to the highest of heights in a magnificent air balloon.
It all was so curious and fascinating to Cora, she had almost forgotten the time.
As noon approached, Joshua still hadn’t been back to the house and, though she told herself she didn’t really care about him, Cora did have a sinking feeling in her gut.
She was just stepping outside, and onto the great porch, when a covered buggy came riding down the driveway. It slowed to a halt in front of her, and a man in a suit, with a walking stick and hat was escorted out by the tall, lean, and expressionless coach driver.
“The Mrs. Dansby, I presume?” The man who stepped out was plump, with a clean shaven face and wrinkled forehead. It seemed an unusually ordinate sight on the humble orchard estate of Joshua Dansby.
Cora did not reply, and the man stayed below the steps, and tipped his hat.
“Perhaps Joshua Dansby hasn’t spoken of me? I’m Walter Howell. His father was my cousin, and dear Joshua is a beloved nephew of mine.”
“I may have heard of you.”
His eyes squinted, as if not being able to peer under the bright sunlight. He looked Cora up and down, and she felt uncomfortable.
“If you’re looking for Joshua,” she said. “He’s not here right now. I can tell him you stopped by.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, we are all family now,” his arms swept open to illustrate. “Do tell Joshua that I’m looking forward to the hearing in a few weeks. Oh, and perhaps I should also mention that there have been a few new discoveries…” he toyed at his walking stick, and raised an eyebrow. “Regarding the will of his grandfather’s estate…”
“You can let him know yourself,” Cora’s brow furrowed, and she felt uneasy. “He shouldn’t be long.”
She dealt with many a rat in her day, literal and not, on the streets of New York City, and he gave her the same feeling: a complete and utter distaste.
“It does involve you too, mind you,” he smiled slyly, “So you should benefit from the news as well. It turns out, in the fine print, that Joshua Dansby mustn’t only be married, but he must be married for at least five years before the estate is turned over from the board to him. In such time as he is not in a consensual and lawful union, the estate will be turned over to the next closest heir. Which is indeed myself, madam.” Walter brought his hands to straighten as his suit collar.
“But that shouldn’t be a problem…” he smirked. “Especially as in love as you two obviously are. Why, practically beaming. There’s no possibility for it to be a sham or contractual obligation….bribery that would invalidate...oh, me. I seem to be getting carried away now. Let young Joshy know I stopped by.”
Cora’s eyes grew wide, and her fists balled at her side.
He knows, she said.
Walter got into his carriage and strode away, leaving an even deeper pit in Cora’s stomach.
Chapter 6
“Joshua!” She called into the orchard, lifting her dress from draping along the muddy and wet grass. The shade of the trees was cool and moist, but she had begun to grow increasingly worried. Where was Joshua? Meeting his despicable uncle was no help to the growing anxiety she felt pierce her within. She hadn’t known Joshua long...but she knew him long enough to see how much he cared for this land. From the way he treated his horse, to how passionately he reasoned to save his inheritance…
Whatever Walter Howell wanted, could only amount to no good.
“Joshua!”
Nothing.
She continued to trace along, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow in the distance, lying among the grass in the shade of a tree.
Her heart began to beat fast.
“Joshua!”
“Come on, stay with me,” Cora placed the cool wet cloth on Joshua’s forehead. Her dress was ripped and muddied, her sleeves scrunched up, her braid letting out unkempt wisps of brown hair.
Joshua laid on the couch in the library and study, his face red and body covered in sweat.
Cora was completely exhausted from having found him passed out in the orchard shade. She knew there was something wrong that morning, and she chided herself for not following her instinct sooner. It was a struggle getting Joshua back to the house, but thankfully he hadn’t been too far off. He must have been on his way in for lunch when the fit began. She didn’t bother trying to get to the second floor bedrooms, and opted for the flat couch-chair in the study.
Being a butcher’s assistant came in handy, Cora laughed to herself, attempting to lighten her own dark thoughts.
“You’re burning up,” Cora felt at his forehead, as he writhed, breathing heavily.
Cora had already removed his hat and shoes, and had been trying to cool him down with water.
She eyed at his chest, and for a moment, grew red.
“No,” she corrected herself. “I’m sorry,” she reached for his shirt. “I have to do this.”
Cora managed to sit Joshua up enough to pull the shirt off, undoing his suspenders. She blushed when her hands felt the ripples of his bare body, and she quickly laid him back down, bringing a cool rag to continue to pat him down.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured. He seemed to still be unconscious as she continued to tend to him.
For the next several hours, Cora continued to monitor him, washing him and doing what she could to whet down the fever.
He finally became conscious toward the late afternoon, waking up in a daze, swinging his feet over the chair, but not to get up before Cora came in and scolded him.
“You’re not fine,” she said, grabbing his arms and guiding him back down. He was still in a daze and consented.
“Just rest,” she said.
By evening, he was conscious, and while still afflicted, could manage a bit on his own. She offered him some chicken soup for dinner and he sat up groggily to spoon the soup from the bowl toward his lips.
“You can cook?” he muttered.
“Don’t act so surprised,” she teased. “I may not be very lady-like, but I can cook like a lady.”
“Where did you get the chicken?” he asked.
Cora pursed her lips.
“About that...well, I hope you don’t mind being down one less chicken…”
Joshua laughed, but soon began a coughing fit, and so Cora hushed him back to rest and cleaned up after them.
“You know, I was actually nervous.”
Joshua spoke low and softly, the fire flickering in the distance, glittering in his blue eyes. Cora stretched in her spot from leaning into the large armchair, and was taken aback by his tone.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“When I was waiting the other morning...I was actually nervous. I know I said that it was all purely business, and that I was doing it for the inheritance--” he pursed his lips. “But that morning, I was actually nervous. I was so scared that I was going to be a disappointment. I was afraid that this woman--whoever it was--was going to absolutely hate me.”
Cora leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand and laughed.
“I don’t hate you,” she smiled. “Not absolutely.”
Joshua chuckled.
“My grandfather always thought I spent too much time being serious. He always said I didn’t know the important things in life. I guess...this was his way to make sure I didn’t stay that way. From the grave.”
The two of them sat on in silence.
Cora cleared her throat.
“I never knew any of my family,” she said. “You’re really blessed to have had that. The idea of having my own family...of one day being able to call another person mine. That was my only dream growing up.”
Joshua could hear the longing in her voice. “What happened?”
“I grew up,” Cora sighed. “I learned that fairytales are meant for books. And families are meant for other lucky girls.”
Joshua watched as Cora leaned her face toward the window, the
moonlight and fire, both swirling in her big brown eyes, mixing together in a wonderful medley.
Perhaps it’s just the fever, he thought, but in that moment, the two seemed to have finally been knit, and as he gazed at her, her tousled dress, her sad eyes, and the untamed hairs that strayed from her braid, she looked the most beautiful thing he had seen in a lifetime.
The days after seemed to move like the clouds across the midwest: quick and dissipating into the blue sky. Adjusting to each other’s presence was a chore for both Joshua and Cora, as headstrong as both were. Teaching Cora to be a lady was not as difficult as Joshua had intended.
“I read a lot of books,” she reasoned. “I can put on any face you like.”
So in a little over a month’s time, when Joshua finally introduced Cora to his family at a night gathering at the Stanton, everyone seemed utterly delighted to have met her.
“She’s marvelous,” his mother cooed across the table, the glasses sparkling underneath the light. “Why ever had we not been able to meet her until now?”
The other guests around the table laughed.
Joshua shifted in his seat, and Cora smiled, though sending a darting glance with her eyes. “We’re very private people,” he answered. “We thought it was best to keep our courtship...out of the public view.”
“New York City, eh?” A voice bellowed across the table toward Cora, an older male relative of Joshua’s. “What a grand city!”
“Yes’sir,” Cora smiled. “The grandest.”
The dinner continued joyously, with close family and friends present. Joshua and Cora appeared, to everyone, a wonderful match.
“Ahem,” a glass tinkered in the room, and it hushed as Walter Howell stood up.
“To my dear nephew,” he raised a glass, in toast.
Cora leaned toward Joshua. “And why did he have to be hear?”
Joshua sighed under his breath.
“He’s family, Cora. Can’t change that,” he said. “Not even if I wanted to.”
Walter continued in his accolade.
“Congratulations on the start of a new chapter in life. With all of this merriment, we still have yet to hear the story of how the two of you came to know on another…”
Romance: Young Adult Romance: The Perfect Game (A Highschool Football Romance) (Bad Boy Nerd New Adult Romance) Page 25
