Cora's Heart: A Cypress Hollow Yarn

by Rachael Herron

  They were at the back of the barn in an empty stall. No one was shouting. That was something, at least.

  Cora. She filled his eyes like sunlight and Mac realized he was more nervous than he’d ever been in his whole life, even more terrified than the moment he’d asked her to run away with him so long ago. Back then he didn’t know you could lose everything in the space of a second, in the moment it took to look in a woman’s eyes and see she wasn’t going to leave with you after all.

  They were older now. Wiser.

  Mac wondered if he were going to have a heart attack.

  “Mac!” Royal’s voice was warm. That was something. “You’re here just in time.”

  Cora blushed as red as her hair, and she turned away to hang a rope on the far wall.

  Olivia said, “Guess what?”

  “What?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “My mom’s gonna let me have a horse!”

  Mac looked at Trixie. That was one hell of a way of getting back in a daughter’s good graces, he supposed. Not that he knew anything about parenting.

  Trixie shrugged sheepishly, pushing her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s not a bribe. I swear. It’s something I’ve been thinking about…”

  “And I’m going to get to know Valentine, too. I have a grandmother!” Olivia was even more amped than she’d been after their race on the beach.

  “Yeah, you do,” Mac said. “You couldn’t have a better one, I can tell you that much. And you have a second cousin, too.”

  “I do?”

  He poked himself in the chest with his thumb. “This guy.”

  Olivia’s mouth formed a circle of perfect surprise. “That’s right! Wow! Can I borrow twenty bucks, cuz?”

  “Olivia!” said Trixie.

  The girl grinned. “Just kidding. But dude, that was funny. Know what else?”

  “Hoo boy. What?”

  “Cora’s giving me half her house. I mean, the money from the sale of half her house. And I’m going to help Royal with the horses he’s going to keep in the back.”

  Mac sat on the small bench, careful to keep the box tight against his thigh. “Wow. So a lot’s gone on since I saw you all, huh?”

  Trixie grimaced at him and glanced at Cora, whose back was still stubbornly turned. “We met with your mom, too. Royal’s buying her house and land.”

  “Whoa. What about all or nothing?”

  Sheepishly, Royal said, “Maybe my eyes were bigger than my stomach. Trixie pointed out I don’t have to move all the horses here, after all. Louisa and Valentine are both moving into Val’s vacant house. Louisa’s land, along with five of Cora’s ten acres will be more than enough for the horses I want here.”

  “Trixie convinced you of all this?”

  Trixie shrugged almost shyly. “I want this guy to stick around a while.”

  “You know.” Royal grinned. “Compromise. Like grown-ups do. And I’m paying Cora a stipend to stay on as stable manager.”

  “You can’t do that,” muttered Cora. “I won’t take it.”

  “She’s giving me the money from the sale,” said Olivia in a voice of wonder. “For college. She wanted to give the whole house to me but mom said no. And I agree. That’s just dumb.”

  Cora turned at that. Her eyes avoided Mac’s. Was she still furious? Stupid question. Of course she was.

  She said, “It’s not dumb. You’re Logan’s daughter.”

  Trixie put her hand on Cora’s wrist. “And you were his wife.”

  Mac watched as the two women looked at each other. Something real passed between them, something he wouldn’t have ever predicted.

  And still, his heartbeat hadn’t slowed a single iota since walking into the barn. “You guys? Can I have a moment with Cora? Alone?” His voice shook, and he knew they heard it.

  Royal gave a pointed glance at the box. “Yeah. Come on, ladies. Let’s go see what Stark is up to.”

  They filed out, leaving Cora twisting the rope into a quick release knot. She pulled it, and made it again. And again.

  “Cora.”

  “No,” she said, her voice small. “I’m not ready for this.”

  She wasn’t mad, then. It was fear Mac felt coming off her in waves. That was okay, he was terrified, too. “Not ready for what?”

  Cora pulled the rope tauter. It must be burning her hands by now, and Mac barely prevented himself from reaching out to stop her. “For you apologizing. For you leaving. Again. Can you just go, and we’ll skip all that? I’m glad you came – I needed to see you and make sure you were all right. I can’t quite –” her voice choked and she took a deep breath “– I can’t quite take you leaving again, so I wish you’d leave quickly. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “Let me down? Cora…”

  “Don’t, please. I didn’t see that you were trying to do the right thing. I know that now. It took a literal act of God to see that I’ve already had my earthquake, the one that mattered, anyway. So if you’d just hurry up and go back to your life and your job, I’ll be fine. I promise. I’m always fine.”

  Was she crying? Oh, God. “Corazón. I don’t want to go back –”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “But you’re my heart.”

  Her eyes met his, and for the first time, the hope Mac felt took on color and shape and weight. But he said it again, in case she hadn’t heard him right, in case she didn’t feel the same hope building. “You’ve always been my heart.”

  “Oh.” The word was small and floated between them. Mac wanted to take her in his arms, but he remembered what he’d brought her.

  “Here,” he said. “Take this.” He handed her the box.

  “Mac,” she started.

  “Don’t say anything. It’s for you. Just open it.”

  A soft snick as Cora opened the thin piece of cardboard. She unfolded the tissue paper. “What on earth?”

  She pulled out the teacup. The exact match to the one she’d regretted breaking the very second she’d thrown it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Even though on some days everyone looks like they’re better at knitting than you are, it’s not true. You are perfect. You are good. You are doing it all exactly right. Knit on, my friend. – E.C.

  Cora didn’t understand at first. How had he glued it so perfectly back together? Where were the cracks? She’d thrown the pieces out, so…

  “You should be able to use your favorite china whenever you want. Every day. Not just for special occasions.”

  “But how…”

  “I stole the biggest piece when you weren’t looking. I went up the coast this morning. Went to about four thousand antique shops – I can tell you they didn’t like the roller we had today. I hit paydirt at a place that was getting ready to close for the day.”

  She held the teacup so that it caught the light from the open door. “Oh, Mac. It’s a perfect match.”

  “Sometimes broken things are.”

  Cora felt another aftershock and looked up at the bare bulb that hung over the stall. It didn’t move at all. It was just her, then.

  “I need to sit down.”

  Clementine, who’d been snuffling around the far wall, bounded in and greeted Mac with a nose pressed to his palm before leaning against Cora with a happy groan.

  “She loves you,” said Mac.

  “She’s a ridiculous dog,” said Cora, still examining the teacup’s pansies. It had made her ill that she’d been so stupid, hurling away something that she loved so much. And here it was again, perfect in her hands. He’d done this for her. Mac had known exactly what mattered the most to her.

  Mac shook his head. “She’s not. She’s just right.”

  Cora felt the corners of her mouth start to tilt. “What’s she good for, though? She tried to catch a mouse earlier, but she scared herself almost half to death when it squeaked at her.”

  “She’ll get braver as she goes. I know people like that, too.”

  “Yeah? She scared
of mice, but she’s a chicken-killer.”

  Mac raised an eyebrow. “That dog?”

  “Okay, she would be. If she could.”

  “If you let her get at the chickens. Which you won’t.”

  “When my friend Abigail came to the house earlier, she didn’t even bark.”

  “She must have known she was your friend, then.” Mac knelt on the clean straw at Cora’s feet and took Clementine’s square head in his hands. “What a smart girl you are, knowing the difference between friend and foe.”

  Cora was running out of ideas. “And look at the way she leans. Why does she do that?”

  “It’s the way she shows love.”

  That word, again. Coming from Mac’s mouth. His eyes met hers, and Cora’s breath evaporated.

  “Love,” Cora said weakly. “Love isn’t shown by leaning on someone else.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t.”

  “You think this dog can’t take care of herself? She’s what, two years old? Probably been on her own a long time. That doesn’t stop her from knowing who to trust.” Mac took Cora’s hand. “Doesn’t stop her from knowing who to love. She chooses to lean on you, Cora.”

  “Mac…”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m even more sorry we came up with the cockamamie idea of lying to Olivia. But we thought…”

  “It was for my own good.”

  Mac nodded. “Trixie…”

  “Feels awful about the pregnant-at-the-same-time thing. She told me.”

  Mac’s hand was cool and wide. Strong. Trustworthy. “And you forgave her?”

  Cora shrugged. “Yeah. Strangely, I would have done the same thing, I think.” She looked into the teacup. Who had drunk out of it in the past? What had the leaves at the bottom foretold? “Oh, Logan,” she said to herself.

  “Logan,” Mac agreed. “Next time I see that guy…”

  She shook her head and looked directly into Mac’s eyes. He needed to hear this next part clearly. “I loved him.”

  “I know,” Mac said, the smile falling from his face. “I know you did. I did too.”

  “I didn’t know the difference until you came back, but I was never in love with him.”

  Mac’s eyes had never looked more intense than this moment. His hand tightened on hers.

  Cora went on, “Because I was always in love with you. And I told you. I’m not good at multi-tasking.”

  Mac didn’t wait. He was kissing her before she could take another breath, before her heart started beating again. “I love you,” he said between kisses. “Corazón. My heart.”

  Cora leaned her forehead against his.

  It felt more right than anything had ever felt before.

  And on that short, splintered bench in Stark’s smallest barn, love was felt in both a kiss and in a lean, and a single teacup was big enough to hold all the love that threatened to overflow Cora’s heart.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  EPILOGUE

  Love through everything. – E.C.

  The next summer, nothing was going according to plan.

  Cora finished filling the clear glass jar with the crunchy granola that she’d gotten out of bed early to make, first stirring the oats, nuts, sunflower seeds and honey over the stove, then carefully checking while it cooked in the oven. It was healthy for both of them. Mac’s triglycerides had been a little on the high side when he’d seen Dr. Keller last month. He’d started running again every morning, and sometimes she joined him in a jog down the beach. He always ran faster than her, turning around and jogging backwards, teasing her until she ran harder, faster, until she tackled him from behind and they tumbled to the sand.

  She poured a refill of tea into her favorite teacup. Her everyday teacup, now.

  Mac came in the back door, still breathing heavily, the sweat dark on his tank top. Clementine raced for the water bowl, and then did a lap of the kitchen, forgetting, as always, to close her mouth so that the water dribbled all over Cora’s clean floor.

  Holding a white bag aloft triumphantly, Mac said. “Look what followed me home!”

  “Don’t even tell me –”

  “I’m just thinking about your needs. You love Whitney’s morning buns. Still steaming when I bought ’em.”

  “Oh…” Cora did love those light pastries filled with a heavenly brown sugar trail. “But I made granola.”

  “On purpose?” But he grinned and pulled her in for a kiss.

  She supposed she should mind that he smelled of wet dog, salt air, and sweat, but she didn’t. His lips on hers made her shiver all the way to her toes and she wondered how much time they had before he had to get to work.

  He pulled back and said, “I’ll eat that later. For lunch.”

  “You can’t have granola for lunch.”

  “Says who? It’s gonna be busy today – I got a message from Cindi that the pregnant Rottweiler was in labor when she got in this morning. And at eleven we’re getting a tour from Mrs. Boonstomple’s second grade class. If all the puppies are out by that point, I expect to recruit at least five or six of them as potential homes.” He grinned. “Their parents aren’t gonna be happy they toured the shelter today of all days.”

  “Still, you should have protein or something…” Cora’s voice trailed off as Mac leaned in to gently nip the side of her neck. “Oh.”

  “I’ll have milk with the granola. That’s protein.”

  “But not whole milk. At least use non-fat.”

  “You worry too much. Think about last week.”

  Cora turned to grab a Ziplock bag and started packing what she knew would be three or four times as much granola as Mac would be able to eat. “That was different.”

  “You loved it.”

  “I did not,” she protested weakly.

  Mac leaned on the edge of the old kitchen table and stretched his lower back. “You said it was one of the most fun things in the whole world.”

  “Okay. Yeah. But you tricked me. And since then I’ve decided that skydiving is the most foolhardy thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Besides falling in love with me, that is.”

  She raised an eyebrow and watched with approval as he stripped off his tank top and threw it in the washing machine. “True.”

  Mac turned and pulled an ankle up behind him. “You couldn’t control a minute of it.”

  “The skydiving? That was the problem.” Mac hadn’t told her where they were going. He’d just pulled up to the Half-Moon Bay airstrip and took her inside where he’d smooth-talked her into signing on the dotted line that she was taking the class and waiving all liability.

  “And you couldn’t do a lick of research.”

  “That’s what the internet was made for. All the scare stories and grisly pictures, right there for the googling. All for me.”

  Mac grinned, and her heart tugged. Lord, she loved his grin. She’d always loved it.

  “And instead,” he said, “you strapped yourself to a man you’d never met before…”

  “Well, that was kind of thrilling.”

  Pointedly ignoring her, he continued, “And hurled yourself out of an airplane at eleven thousand feet.”

  “If that guy hadn’t been dragging me down to earth, I could have climbed the air right back into the plane. I know I could have.”

  “I don’t doubt that, darlin’.” Sitting, he opened the bag. “Yep, they’re still warm.”

  “Terrible man. Gimme one.”

  He handed it to her. “Royal coming by today?”

  Cora nodded, her mouth full. Around the morning bun, she said. “Yesh, later. He’s bringing in a new filly this afternoon.”

  “Good. She’s supposed to be a good one.”

  “And NBC is sending a follow-up crew on the jam story – the producer said they want a whole series on canning.”

  “Linked to your videos?”

  Smiling, Cora said, “Yup.”

  “Hot damn. You should wear this sweater.” Mac touched th
e lace at her shoulder. “It’s sexy as hell. You’ll inspire a canning revolution across the nation.” He took a sip of her tea. “Are Olivia and Esteban working on roping?”

  She nodded and swallowed. “She’s coming this morning. Every time I mention the rodeo to her, she goes totally green.”

  Mac didn’t look worried. “She’s gonna love it.”

  “She’s scared of falling off the horse, of getting bucked, of getting her hand caught. She’s scared of everything.”

  “And yet she’s doing it anyway. Huh.”

  “What’s that look for?”

  He leaned back in his chair, tossing the last bit of the bun into his mouth. “She just reminds me of someone.”

  “Logan was never scared.”

  Mac looked at her pointedly. “I was talking about you, Cora. She reminds me of you at that age.”

  “Always nervous? Planning too much?” She stood, balling up the bag and moving toward the stove.

  But Mac grabbed her around the waist and turned her, pulling her down into his lap. “Always brave. Scared and doing it anyway. Plans or no plans. Like this one here.” He touched her nose lightly.

  She shook her head and tugged at the hem of the lace-sided sweater she’d knitted for Abigail. It was her favorite, and she wore it at least once a week. Mac said it was his favorite, too, but she knew it was just because he could touch her skin through the lace. “Not very brave. That’s the whole problem.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Keep making your lists –”

  “I will.”

  “And I’ll keep watching you do things that scare you. Because it’s one of the hottest things about you.” He touched the side of her face and leaned in to kiss her neck, right at the place he knew made her crazy.

  “How much time do you have?”

  “For you? All the time in the world.” He stood, bringing Cora to her feet as he went. “I need a shower, though. Care to join me?”

  “You don’t mind being late to the shelter?”

  “Sometimes you have to break the rules, Corazón.”

  He was right. Damn right. He usually – though not always – was about these things. She hadn’t planned this. Any of it. And it was perfect.