Page 60 of Brian and Cora
Stop being melodramatic. You've lived alone for years. You prefer solitude.
But the lecture rang hollow.
Guilt gnawed at him for his harsh dismissal when she'd tried to share her excitement. She'd been nothing but patient with his foul moods, growing to trust him with her friendship, and he'd repaid her with cold rudeness.
Looking out the window, his gaze caught on the canvas-covered canoe. The sight sparked an idea—a way to show his remorse without having to stumble through getting out theactual words. He glanced at the sky, noting the stark blue that promised continued fair weather. For today, at least, Indian summer held on.
Better make use of it while I can. Hobbling to the stove, Brian set water to boil for willow bark tea. He steeped the concoction without honey. As soon as the liquid cooled enough, he drank it down, making a face at the bitter taste. Then he made his way outside to stand on the porch, Sassy Girl bouncing at his heels.
Overhead, a V of geese flew south, their mournful calls a reminder of the changing season. Soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow, the warm spell will break. Cora’s departure will usher in winter—both the season and within me.
The thought sent an unexpected pang through his chest. He'd kept his heart walled off for so long, allowing only Torin, Hank, and Jewel past his defenses. But somehow Cora had found the cracks in his barriers, widening them day by day until?—
"Bry-an!" Jewel's delighted cry interrupted his brooding. She raced toward him, clutching something pink in her hand.
Sassy Girl leapt to greet her.
Behind the child, Cora and Torin walked more sedately. Cora’s expression remained impassive. Her gaze swept over him in that assessing way he'd come to recognize—checking his color, his posture, whether he showed signs of pain. Apparently satisfied with her medical evaluation, she turned toward the house without a word.
“Cora, wait," Brian called.
She paused and glanced over her shoulder.
"I want to take the canoe out. Watch the sunset from the water." He looked to Torin. "Would you help me?"
She whirled. "Absolutely not. You could reinjure your leg?—"
"The canoe's specially made," Brian interrupted gently. "Wide and long so Jewel can ride safely."
"True,” Torin agreed. “Canoeing is one of her favorite things. Though you wouldn't know it lately, what with Sassy Girl taking precedence."
Her eyes grew stormy. "I won't partake in this foolishness."
Brian met her eyes steadily and pointed toward the lake. "I'm going out there regardless. But I'd rather have my nurse along to ensure I don't do anything foolish."
He watched her internal struggle play across her expressive face—duty warring with irritation, concern battling stubbornness. Finally, her shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Fine. But Torin and I drag the canoe to the water. You don't lift a finger."
He gave her a two-fingered salute. "Yes, ma'am."
Together, Cora and Torin dragged the canoe to the water's edge until the front floated, but the back rested on the beach.
Brian handed Cora his crutches. “Lay them there.” He pointed to a spot on the sand.
The process of getting him settled in the canoe, legs stretched before him, was painful and awkward but manageable with Torin's help.
"I'll keep the wild ones entertained," Torin said, gesturing to where Jewel and Sassy Girl were already digging in the sand. "Take your time. We’ll be here when you return." He gave the canoe a strong shove into the deeper water.
The canoe floated to where some flat stones were placed to form a tiny jetty, just big enough for riders to walk from stone to stone and climb in without getting their feet wet. Cora insisted on facing him. "So I can monitor your condition," she said primly, though he caught the hint of a smile.
Brian dug the paddle into the sandy bottom to steady the canoe while Torin helped Cora aboard, keeping her hand to steady her, until the rocking calmed, and then balancing her while she sat.
Once Torin released Cora, Brian pushed off with gentle strokes, finding a rhythm that didn't strain his leg too much. By the time they reached the middle of the lake, twilight had softened the sun’s rays to lavender and rose, and the waning moon hung like a ghost against the darkening blue.
The pungent scent of lake water filled his nostrils—algae and fish and something indefinably wild. The gentle splash of his paddle and their quiet breathing were the only sounds, until here and there a fish jumped, chasing a fly or mosquito or some other insect. Luckily, in spite of the nice weather, the night temperatures had cooled the air enough to kill off the majority of the mosquitoes, so they weren’t plagued by the tiny critters.
Cutting through the stillness came an eerie call—part cry, part laugh.
