Page 58 of Brian and Cora
Torin opened the door, surprise flickering across his handsome face. "Cora? Is everything all right?"
"Yes, I…." She hesitated, suddenly aware she'd arrived unannounced and uninvited to the home of a man she made uncomfortable. "I have something for Jewel. About her reading lessons. But if this is a bad time?—"
"No, please, come in." He stepped back, gesturing her inside. "Jewel's napping, but she'll wake soon."
The entryway was surprisingly tidy for a bachelor raising a child alone, with touches that spoke of attempts at homemaking—a braided rug, Jewel's drawings tacked to one wall, a stately mirrored coatrack, holding various coats, hats, and scarves, placed neatly rather than tossed. The scent of baking surprised her. I suppose Torin had to learn to cook and bake for Jewel’s sake.
Torin led her into a parlor, the fine furnishings—a leather settee, several round-backed chairs with embroidered cushions, shelves overflowing with books, and a grandfather clock—unexpected in a house built of logs.
"Would you like tea?" Torin offered, seeming uncertain about the social protocols of an unexpected female visitor. “I’ve made oatmeal cookies.”
"Perhaps later." Cora pulled out the felt J and gave the letter to him. "First, look at this."
Torin glanced down at the J, and a smile dawned across his face. “What a clever idea. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. My friend, Ivy, the one I told you I’d ask for advice….” She waited for his nod of remembrance before going on. “All her idea and handiwork.”
He turned over the J, squeezing the curve as if testing its softness.
"This is brilliant," he said softly. "Jewel loves to hold things, carry them around. She might actually remember this."
"Ivy tutors young children and has experience with different learning methods." Cora handed him the letter. "See how kindly she writes about Jewel?"
As Torin read, his expression softened. "Please thank Ivy for me. This is…." He cleared his throat. "It's more kindness than I expected from a stranger."
"Actually," Cora said, seizing her opening, "I have a better idea than just thanking her."
His guard went up immediately, wariness replacing warmth. "Oh?"
"Ivy wants to be a teacher. But her father is rather controlling, and she wouldn’t be able to leave home without a position. She's wonderful with children, patient and creative. What if she came to Sweetwater Springs, to here, as a governess for Jewel?"
"No." The refusal was immediate and absolute. "I won't have a stranger living in my house, judging Jewel, possibly hurting her with careless words or?—"
"Ivy would never do that." Cora pulled out the photograph. "Look at her. See the kindness in her face? She's my dearest friend, and I promise you, she would be nothing but good to Jewel."
Torin barely glanced at the image. "Why would she come here? Leave everything she knows for this isolated life?"
Cora met his gaze steadily. "She doesn’t have to live an isolated life. Neither do you.”
He flinched at the pointed observation.
When he didn’t respond, she continued, trying to obliquely persuade him. “Why does anyone choose isolation? Perhaps because what they're leaving behind is worse than solitude."
He didn’t meet her eyes.
"Besides," she continued more gently, "your life doesn't have to be isolated. Not anymore. You have friends here—Brian, Hank, Elsie, Constance, Dr. Angus, the Swensens up the mountain. Sweetwater Springs is only an hour's ride away. Your isolation is a choice."
Torin sank into the sofa, still holding the felt letter in one hand and Ivy’s photograph in the other. "Logically, I know you're right. Jewel needs more than I can give her. But my heart..." He looked up, his blue eyes filled with old pain. "I'm afraid, Cora. Jewel’s so vulnerable. What if people are cruel? What if they hurt her?"
She sat, placing a hand gently on his arm. "You've done such a wonderful job protecting Jewel. No one could love her more. But Jewel's growing up. She needs to experience more of the world—in a safe, controlled way."
"With your friend as her guide?"
"Ivy would be perfect. She's gentle but not weak, educated but not condescending. And—" Cora smiled "—she desperately needs a fresh start somewhere far from New York."
"What happened to her?"
"Nothing dramatic. Just a father who treats his daughters like unpaid servants and refuses to let them have lives of their own. She's withering there, Torin. Here, she could bloom. And she could help Jewel bloom too."
