Page 61 of Brian and Cora
Cora straightened, looking around with wide eyes. "What was that?"
"Loon." Brian turned the canoe sideways and stilled his paddle, providing a better view for them to observe. "We'd be lucky to spot it. They're fairly elusive. Clumsy on land but sleek and powerful in the water. I'm surprised any are still here. They’ve usually headed south by now."
As if summoned by his words, the bird’s dark shape glided across the surface, the webbed feet smack-smack-smacking against the water, clumsily building speed to propel its ungainly body into the air.
The loon circled once, and then arrowed beneath the surface, before bursting up again, a silver fish glinting in its beak, as noisy emerging from the water as it had been silent diving in. The bird winged away into the gathering dusk.
"Beautiful," Cora breathed.
Somewhere while they’d watched the loon, the tension from their earlier conflict melted away, leaving only peace. The sky purpled. A single star winked into existence, and the air chilled.
"I'm sorry," Brian said quietly. "About earlier. My surliness when you wanted to talk." He sighed, the sound seeming to carry across the water. "Living alone so long, without anyone else to please, I've forgotten how to moderate my reactions. I don't mean to be hurtful."
"Is it just the writing troubles?"
He managed a rueful grimace, though the gathering darkness probably hid the expression. "Embarrassing as it is to admit, considering how I railed against your presence..." He paused, searching for words that wouldn't reveal too much. "I've grown accustomed to having you around. The thought of being alone again isn't as appealing as it once was."
"I've grown accustomed to you too," she said softly. "Your grumpy moments and all." She was quiet for a moment. "I suppose this is what home nursing entails—becoming part of someone's life and then leaving. I'll have to get used to this experience."
It's more than that. At least for me.
The unsaid words lingered between them like the evening mist beginning to rise from the water. Still, Brian felt more peaceful having put his apology into actions and words.
That will have to be enough.
He turned the canoe toward shore. Torin must have lit the lamps, and the golden squares of windows promised warmth against the coming night.
The next morning,even as she donned her riding habit with the divided skirt, Cora tried to maintain a normal façade. But every familiar task felt weighted with finality. Last time making Brian's coffee just the way he liked it—strong, with a touch ofsugar. Last time frying bacon—his slices chewy, hers crisp. Last time watching him eat with a good appetite, a far cry from the invalid who'd arrived three weeks ago.
Cora finished eating and laid her fork across the plate. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about what came in the mail yesterday.”
He chuckled. “You mean what I didn’t give you a chance to tell me.”
She half lowered her eyes, giving him a flirtatious look from under her eyelashes. “I was being tactful.”
Brian raised an eyebrow and lifted his coffee mug in a salute. “I’m all ears.”
Aware of the time ticking by before she needed to leave, Cora poured out the story of Jewel’s J and her proposition to Torin about Ivy becoming his daughter’s governess.
When she finished, Brian sat back in his chair with a big exhale and incredulous shake of his head. “Didn’t expect that. It's inspired, actually. Torin needs help, though he'd never admit it. And Jewel needs a good woman around on a more permanent basis.” He drank some coffee. “And from what you've told me about your friend, she sounds perfect." He studied Cora over his cup. "You did well yesterday, planting that seed.” He glanced in the direction of Torin’s house.
The warmth of Brian’s praise filled her chest. Unexpected tears threatened. She fought to hold them back.
He shifted his attention back to her. “Give Torin time. I have a feeling he'll come around."
"I hope so. For both their sakes."
Brian shifted in his chair, wincing slightly. "I don't like the idea of you riding alone down the mountain."
I don’t either. "I'll have to get used to such journeys," she said with forced brightness. "Sometimes, I'll be nursing people in isolated areas where horseback is the only option." Sheattempted a laugh. "I'll need to learn to live with whatever fits in my saddlebags.” She glanced at the bedroom. “Though for now, I'll leave most of my things for Dr. Angus to bring back on his next visit."
"You could stay." The words seemed to surprise him as much as her. "Until Hank returns or the doc makes his next trip up. It would be safer."
For a moment, Cora let herself imagine staying—a few more days of this comfortable routine, these moments of unexpected connection. But she was expected home today. If she didn’t show, Rose and the Bellaire-Norton family would worry.
And staying longer would only make leaving harder.
"I'll be fine," she said with a smile that felt brittle. "I need to get back. Dr. Cameron has patients waiting for my services." Or so I hope.
