Page 57 of Brian and Cora
"That's kind, but no." Anna's gaze swept the tidy cabin with approval. "You've done wonders here."
"Most of the credit goes to Mr. Bellaire and the ladies of Sweetwater Springs for their suggestions and whirlwind cleaning," Cora said with a laugh. "I've just maintained it. Why don’t we go out on the porch and sit for a bit? The lake view is so beautiful." She grabbed her coat off the rack, shrugged into the garment, and led Anna outside.
They sat and chatted for a few minutes about domestic matters—how to keep the stove drawing properly, how Anna’s youngest was teething and making them all miserable with his crying, how to prepare for the mountain winters. It was such a relief to have female conversation that Cora found herself reluctant to let her guest leave.
"I really must go," Anna said, standing. "But it's been lovely talking with you. Next spring, if you return to Three Bend Lake, you must come visit. The children would love to meet you.”
“And I them. I’ve heard they’re adorable.”
Anna blushed and lowered her eyes. “From where the road forks, I’m about a twenty-minute walk higher. Although,” she said wryly, “longer if you’re accompanied by children."
On a wave of laughter, they walked through the house, and Cora waved her goodbye. With a sigh, she turned to take off her coat and saw Brian staring at her.
As if to pretend he hadn’t been watching, he gazed intensely at the paper, and then scribbled something across the top.
Cora went to her room, sat on her bed, and eagerly opened Ivy’s package. Inside, cushioned in tissue paper, lay a pink felt capital J, about four inches high. The letter was stitched with care and stuffed to give it dimension.
She unfolded the letter. As always, the sight of Ivy's familiar handwriting pinched at her heart.
Dearest Cora,
Your letter about Jewel touched my heart. What a blessed child to have such devoted caretakers! I've been thinking about your request for teaching suggestions, and I remembered something that worked well with one of my young pupils when he struggled with traditional methods.
Children like Jewel often learn better through touch and play. I've made this felt letter for her to hold and explore. If it helps, I'd be happy to make more—perhaps her whole name to start? The tactile experience of tracing the letter's shape while saying its sound can create stronger connections than simply looking at marks on a page.
Please give Jewel's father my compliments on raising such a beloved child. In my experience tutoring, I've seen too many children whose differences make them targets of cruelty or neglect. How wonderful that Jewel has a papa who cherishes her exactly as she is.
I miss you dreadfully and live for your letters. The house feels even drearier without your visits. Yesterday, Papa complained about the coal bill again, and I couldn't help but think of your adventures in the Wild West with longing...
Cora pressed the letter to her chest, her mind racing. Ivy longing for adventure. Jewel needing a teacher. Torin needing help.
The solution seemed so obvious she wanted to laugh with delight.
Jumping to her feet, she hurried out of the bedroom. "Brian! I've had the most wonderful idea?—"
" Not now, Cora." He didn't look up from the page, still with only a single line written across the top. "I'm working."
"You're staring at the paper," she pointed out.
"I’m imagining a scene." His voice was cold, distant. "A process that you're interrupting."
"But this is important?—"
"Nothing is more important than my looming deadline." He finally looked at her, his brown eyes hard. "Which I'll miss if you keep chattering at me."
Cora recoiled as if slapped. After days of pleasant conversation and growing friendship, his harsh dismissal stung more than she cared to admit. "Fine," she said stiffly. "I'll take my 'chattering' elsewhere."
She took down her coat from the rack, donning it with jerky motions, and marched to her room. She shoved Ivy's letter and the felt J into her coat pocket. The photograph of her friend sat on her nightstand, and she grabbed that too, sliding the frame into the opposite pocket. If Brian wanted to wallow in his foul mood alone, she'd leave him to it.
The front door slammed behind her with satisfying force.
The walk to Torin's house helped cool her temper, though hurt still simmered beneath the surface. How could Brian switch so quickly from friend to hostile stranger? Yesterday they'd had an in-depth discussion of his books. Today she was an unwanted interruption.
Three more days, she reminded herself. Then you'll be back in town, working with Dr. Cameron, and Brian Bly can stew in his own grumpiness.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, her chest tightened from the impending loss.
Cora knocked softlyon Torin's door, mindful that Jewel might be napping. The house was far larger than Brian's original cabinbut had the same rustic charm, with green shutters framing the windows and a wide porch overlooking the lake. The building sat farther back than Hank’s or Brian’s, on the opposite side of the road. When building, he’d probably wanted the scenic view, but not the close proximity of his vulnerable daughter to the water.
