Page 10 of A Late-Blooming Rose
For weeks, she’d struggled to return to her former equanimity, finally achieving a state of placid calm—an illusion, really, that hid the intensity of the not-so-old grief.
Something of her feelings must have shown on her face, for Cora leaned forward to take Rose’s hand. “Oh, Auntie Great,” she said, reverting to the childhood nickname. “I will miss you!”
Rose squeezed Cora’s hand and released, striving to prop up the walls around her unsteady feelings. “I’m sure you’ll miss more than just me.”
“I’ll miss Papa and the children.NotStep-mama, of course.” She giggled, before sobering. “Ivy, also. I don’t know how I’ll manage with my best friend living half a continent away.”
“I suspect you two will spend a lot of money on stationery and stamps,” Rose said in a dry tone.
“Ivy wants to be a teacher. We’re hoping wherever I end up, she can join me there, finding employment as a schoolmarm or governess.”
Rose had no idea the two were so unhappy with their lives in New York. Cora possessed a blithe spirit, which apparently masked her dissatisfaction. The few times she’d met Ivy over the years, the girl seemed cheerful and polite. She’d thought them well matched as bosom friends.In the future, I need to ask more probing questions.
“I’ll have to get a new wardrobe.” Cora wrinkled her nose and plucked at the fabric of her skirt. “I’m never wearing brown or gray again! I’ll commission a new Sunday dress and a new everyday dress right away. Do you mind if I leave them here? I don’t want Step-mama discovering them. Good thing she’s expecting and keeping to her room. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put it past her to take my dresses for herself.”
“You’re not twenty-one yet. Your parents can forbid you to leave.”
The mulish look on her niece’s face foretold what would happen if they tried. “I’m not telling them until I’m gone.” She shot Rose a determined look. “You are not to, either. Besides, I’ll be twenty-one in six months.”
Rose made an impatient sound. “I cannot in good conscience keep such important information a secret. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Well, then, I won’t confide in you, so you’ll have nothing to tell them.” She airily waved a hand. “This is just a conversation of wishful thinking.”
Rose bit her lip, torn between her duty to her nephew John and her protective instincts about Cora. Even if she spoke up, her niece would continue on her course and run away from home. She’d enlist Ivy’s help and store her new wardrobe with her friend. Even if Rose warned Ivy’s parents, Cora would just choose another friend whom Rose didn’t know.
She sighed. The young woman might make rash decisions—ones that might be countered if Rose knew about them and could steer her into safer channels. “Very well. As much as I dislike the idea, I’ll say nothing to your father.” She held up a hand. “But you must keep me apprised ofallyour plans.”
Cora clapped her hands together and brought them to her chest. “Oh, Auntie Great, you’re the best!”
“Furthermore—” Rose narrowed her eyes. “I donotlike the idea of you traveling to Montana unchaperoned.”
“Then you’ll have to come with me,” Cora quipped in a pert tone, her eyes sparkling.
“Oh, no!”
“Why not?”
“Why…because my life is here.”
“Is it really, Auntie Rose? Really? Grandpapa’s gone. You’re no longer working at the library. You’re not close with papa or the children. What kind of life will you have here?Nolife, that’s what!”
Feeling as if Cora had driven a spike through her chest, Rose almost doubled up with pain. Only her corset kept her upright. She opened her mouth to disagree, but then clenched her jaw, knowing the girl spoke the stark truth.
Abruptly, Cora stood and strode to the desk in the corner, deftly weaving around the books lying on the floor. She pulled open the side drawer and removed a fat envelope, glancing at the address and nodding with apparent satisfaction. Returning to Rose, she handed over the letter and resumed her seat on the stack of books.
Rose glanced down and saw Andre’s familiar handwriting.Oh, no. Not more from him!
“This letter came on one of the days when Grandpapa insisted you go outside for fresh air and exercise and let me stay to nurse him. Remember? The day it rained suddenly, and you came home wet because of not having an umbrella.”
Rose did remember. “Drenched to my petticoats.”
“Grandpapa wasn’t strong enough to sit up, so I read the letter to him.” Cora smiled, obviously remembering. “What Mr. Bellaire wrote made him smile and laugh. I did, too.” Her lips remained turned up. “Those two were quite the dashing young blades in their day. Well, not so young. I believe Grandpapa was twenty-nine when they met. Isn’t Mr. Bellaire a similar age?” She tapped a finger on her chin. “No, I remember his last birthday here in New York. He’s three years older.”
Some things Rose didn’twantto remember even if she did. “He’s fifty-four.” She tried to give back the letter, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Cora pushed back Rose’s hand. “Read it, Auntie. Please?”
If she refused, Rose would have to explain why, and she preferred Cora not know of her complicated feelings about Andre Bellaire. She took the letter, braced herself, and began to read.
