Chapter Twenty-One

CORA

March 1932

A glorious day. Truly glorious. Spring’s promise pushed back the dreary chill of winter and Cora felt like celebrating.

She’d spent a grand five dollars on an ad in the Tennessean and $1.35 on an ad in the Heart’s Bend Tribune announcing The Wedding Shop’s reopening after a cruel fire.

Hattie Lerner did a quick write-up in the Tribune’s society section with a sweet headline:

THE WEDDING SHOP REOPENS FOR BRIDES EVERYWHERE.

Thank you, Hattie.

Cora folded the paper, tucking it under her arm, content with her ads, content with getting back to work. Moving forward and forgetting the last eight months.

Other than Daddy losing her childhood home and leaving the family, getting over Rufus had been the most trying time of her life. She despised her naïveté. Worse, the embarrassment of weeping on Birch’s shoulder, then of confessing the truth to Odelia and, finally, to Mama, who graciously refrained to only two, “I told you. I told you,” during the initial dialogue.

Well, it was all done now. Over. A thing of the past.

Leaving the newspaper in the pantry, breathing in the scent of new lumber and paint that sweetened the shop . . . it made the shop feel new again. Revitalized.

Cora hurried up to the mezzanine, grateful ruined things could be restored, and pulled the key from her skirt pocket, unlocking the storage door.

A drop of joy spilled on her heart. While the new part of the shop was being painted, Cora had the storage room spruced up. The fresh pink wall was contrasted by a row of white wedding gowns. At the end of the room, on the far wall, a window captured the outside in. The room was fresh, bright, airy, and full of everything Cora loved.

She’d splurged, yes she did, ordering all sorts of new things from New York—gowns, veils and gloves, shoes. She paid Odelia and her seamstresses an extra three dollars each for going-away dresses and wedding-night apparel.

If she couldn’t be a bride, she’d be the best bride’s maid anywhere. Let the brides commence shopping.

Cora walked the length of the room, inspecting each milky-white gown. And weren’t the going-away dresses such bold colors this season? Reds, blues, and purples.

At the window, she paused to look out, then with a burst of energy shouted against the glass, “I’m back and going to win the day.”

Whirling around, ready to work, Cora gathered two mannequin heads and the box of veils, taking a quick survey of the room. What else would she need? She’d come back for the shoes. She had a lovely idea to display them along the staircase—a pair on each step.

The fire, as shocking as it was, turned out to be a blessing. The purging flames awoke her to her foolishness, purged her really, from the evils of Rufus St. Claire.

Her first Sunday in church after the fire, Cora begged God’s forgiveness, begged for His balm on her sorrow. While she sensed His touch, there were dark waves throughout her day when a memory surfaced, or a longing, and she’d break down.

How could she have been so blind? Could she ever trust her heart again?

At the display case in the small salon, Cora fashioned the veils on the mannequin heads, then opened the front door, allowing the morning breeze to sweep away the stale air of the night. To clear her mind of cobwebs of shame.

She raised the window sash and saw Odelia walking down the street. “Did you pick up the pastries?” she called.

“Right here.” Odelia raised two large boxes over her head.

“Cora, please, stop yelling like a heathen.”

She turned to see Mama gliding down the stairs, so lithe and sophisticated in her New York Saks Fifth Avenue dress, her hair the color of the morning sun and permanent waved.

She returned home when Odelia wrote her about the fire. Cora had planned to leave the tale for another time, when things were right again. But Odelia thought different. And Mama thanked her for it.

“If Daddy could see you now, Mama.”

She smiled, raising her cigarette to her lips. “I sent him a photograph of me right after I had my hair done, wearing this dress.”

“Has he written?” Cora asked. She’d not heard from Daddy since Christmas

Mama’s smile faded. “No, but it’s to be expected.” Smoke from her cigarette swirled around her hair. Despite her thin, exotic appearance, Mama could not keep her despair from reflecting in her eyes.

“Pastries are in the pantry.” Odelia came from the back, tying on her work apron. “I heard at the Women’s Club that quite a number of the town’s younger women want to come out, take a look. They have no hope of affording a wedding trousseau, but they’d like to dream.”

“This danged Depression can’t last forever,” Mama said. “President Hoover must do something to help.”

“The president can’t make it rain, Mama. Nor does he care about brides in Heart’s Bend, Tennessee, but we do. We can help them afford some sort of trousseau.” Cora’s rejuvenated mission welled within her. “We’ll find a way.”

“Yes, and if you’re not careful you’ll run out of money before it’s all over. You can’t keep giving stuff away,” Mama said, disappearing into the new pantry, her favorite place in this whole shop. So she said.

Now that she’d worked a real job for a few months in a big city, she was more of an expert on everything than before. And not timid at all about sharing her opinion.

“The usual, Cora?” Odelia said, heading up to the mezzanine.

“Yes, dresses from New York on the mannequins. And let’s bring down the entire inventory for the new built-in racks in the grand salon.” Another idea from the reconstruction. Cora installed dress racks in the grand salon. She and Odelia wouldn’t have to put it all away at night. “On the dress forms, put your favorite pattern dresses. Oh, I saw an ad in Vogue last fall with shoes positioned on the staircase. It looked marvelous. Let’s do something similar, shall we?”

“We shall.” Odelia hustled up the stairs. “I think someone is in love.”

“In love?” Mama came from the pantry with a cup of coffee and a fresh cigarette. “Who’s in love?”

“Cora.”

“What on earth? I am not in love.”

“You’re mighty chipper lately. Especially when Birch Good comes around.”

Mama sipped her coffee, peering at Cora over the rim. “I agree. I declare you officially Rufus-free. Thank goodness.”

“Fine and dandy, but that does not mean I’m in love with Birch.” Good grief. Two crazy old ladies . . . That’s what she was dealing with here.

Sure, Cora liked Birch. Very, very much. She adored him, really. He’d been a lifesaver the past eight months, but love? No, no, no.

He was a farmer. He lived by the will of the sun and the rain. The land was his master. She wanted no such life.

She was about to head up to help Odelia when a young man dressed in a messenger uniform appeared at the door. “I’m looking for Mrs. Scott.”

Mama stepped in from the small salon. “I’m Mrs. Scott.”

“I’ve a registered mail for you, ma’am.”

Mama anchored her cigarette between her lips, handed Cora her coffee, and signed for her letter. Cora dug a quarter from her pocket for a tip.

“Mama, what is it?”

Standing in the sun-filled foyer, Mama scanned the letter. “It’s from your father.”

“Daddy? What does he say?” Cora set Mama’s coffee on the small planter between the windows and tried to read over her shoulder.

“H-he wants a divorce.”

“A divorce?” Cora snatched the letter. “He can’t mean it. He can’t.”

He had written over Christmas saying he was well, thinking of them, but couldn’t bring himself to face the shame of Heart’s Bend and all he’d done to their friends.

But divorce. Had he lost his mind? It was scandalous.

Yet there before Cora’s eyes, in black and white, was a writ of divorce.

“He can’t do this, Mama. The courts won’t let him. He deserted us, not the other way around.”

Mama’s hand trembled as she drew a long puff from her cigarette. “If he wants a divorce, then why would I stand in his way? He’s left me, us, three times, Cora.”

“He’ll come home again.”

“Cora, darling, you’re so hopeful. But not this time. It’s been well over a year.” Mama turned for the stairs. “Now, how can I help Odelia? Shall I arrange the shoes?”

“Mama, how can you be so blasé? This doesn’t bother you? It’s one thing for Daddy to leave, but another to divorce you.”

Mama sighed. “If you must know, he wrote to me already asking if I wanted to divorce him. I said I would not put my good name through the courts that way, but if he wanted to divorce me I’d not stand in his way. Now, let’s get to the grand reopening of The Wedding Shop.” She turned to call up the stairs. “Odelia, don’t forget the long satin gloves. Those are so lovely.”

Mama started up the stairs and Cora chased after her. “Mama, how are you not sad? How can you be all right with this?”

At the top of the stairs, Mama pulled another cigarette from her pocket. Cora snatched it from her fingers.

“Not around the dresses.”

Mama sighed. “Cora, I’ve thought a lot about this and I want to move on. Is that all right with you? Plenty of women get divorced. I’ll be more than fine.” She punched the air with her fist. “I’m a feisty one.”

“Plenty of women? Who, Mama? Who do you know in this town who’s gotten divorced?” Cora couldn’t think of anyone. “And who cares about other women. You’ve loved Daddy since you were sixteen. Married him at eighteen. How can you be all right with this?”

Mary Denton got divorced, but her husband went to jail for fraud. The Andersons got divorced a few years back, but she was a drunk. Other than that . . .

“Cora, leave it.” Mama patted her shoulder. “I want to be happy today.”

“But are you happy, Mama?” Cora touched her arm. If losing Rufus hurt like the dickens, how must Mama feel losing her husband of more than thirty-six years?

“You make me happy. This shop makes me happy. Cora, don’t fret over me. Now, let’s get those shoes lined up on the stairs.”

The grand reopening started slow but ended with the shop full of women young and old celebrating the shop’s return. Cora had three appointments on the books for next week and fully expected more.

When she closed the shop and shut off the lights at seven, Mama and Odelia met her in the foyer with a glass of tea. Mama hoisted her glass. “To our success!”

“To a good day,” Odelia said. “Well done, Cora. I’m happy things are getting back to normal round here.”

Mama sputtered a laugh, choking on her tea, pressing her fingers to her lips, shaking her head, listening to Odelia go on to complain her “dogs were barking” and she was heading on home.

Cora and Mama ate a light supper in the apartment, enjoying their new stove and refrigerator, keeping the conversation light and away from the matter of the divorce.

When they finished, Cora stood, clearing away the dishes. “I’ll clean up, Mama. You go rest.”

“Thank you, darling. I do feel rather worn-out today. But we had a good one, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

As she set the dishes in the sink, a wild sob contorted her forward. “Daddy . . .”

He wasn’t coming back. Her family was no more. Cora muffled her soft cry with the dish towel, resting against the wall. Mama must not see or hear.

She collected herself enough to put away the corned beef, then snuck downstairs to the back porch.

Along the dark horizon, the final glow of the sunset hung on but offered no warmth. Cora drew her sweater around her, the night chilly, winter not ready to let go.

“Care for some company?” Birch peered through the screen on the far side of the porch.

“Please, please, come in.” She stood as he entered, removing his hat, kissing her on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how the reopen went.” Birch took the chair next to hers, setting his hat on his knee. “Nice night.”

“Beautiful.”

“So, you had a good day?”

“The reopening was a success. I’m very pleased. How was your day?”

“Started the plowing with the new tractor. Uncle Sam’s glad he can rest in the barn.”

“He’s been a good ole mule, Uncle Sam.”

“A partner, really. Where would we be without him?”

She peeked at Birch. He was a handsome man with his hair smoothed back and the spring sun coloring his cheeks a pale red. “Daddy served Mama divorce papers.”

“Cora, no . . .” He leaned forward, arms on his legs, slapping his hat between his hands. “I’m so sorry. How’s Esmé?”

“She says fine. Apparently Daddy had already written to her about it.” Cora glanced at her hands folded in her lap. “Makes me wonder if there is such a thing as true love.”

“Right here, darling. Look right at me.” He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet, smoothing his hand around her waist. His breath was sweet and hot on her skin. “I love you, truly. If you marry me, I’ll not leave you. Divorce won’t be an option.”

Cora weakened in his embrace. “Oh, Birch, you are so good to me.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “Handsome and fine.”

“Then marry me, Cora. Marry me.”

“I want to say yes, I do. But—”

“But what? There’s nothing stopping you but your own fears. Is it Rufus? Do you still love him?”

“No, it’s not Rufus. I-I just don’t know if I want to live on a farm, Birch. I’m a town girl, a shop owner.”

“I’m not asking you to give that up.” Birch touched her chin with the edge of his finger. “I’ve been asking you to marry me since the fire. But I’ve been waiting for, well, since I can remember. Won’t you be my wife?”

“Birch . . .” She walked toward the screen, gazing toward the park. The town was dark at this late hour. Almost nine o’clock. The streets were quiet, deserted. But the roads to Cora’s heart were clogged, stuffed with the ambient noise of her past, of the impending divorce. “I’m not sure I feel for you as a girl ought when she gets married. Besides, I can’t leave Mama right now. Not with Daddy divorcing her.”

He caught her in his arms again. “I can love us enough for the both of us. And we can be there for your mama together. She can move out to the farm. I’ll give her a big plot of land for her gardens.”

“She won’t want to live with us if we’re just married.”

“Then she can mind the shop. Live on the third floor. Come out to the farm whenever she wants. I’ll still give her all the ground she wants to work her gardens. We’ll have Sunday dinners together. Play checkers by the fire, listen to the radio.” He released her but stood by her, gazing toward the park. “Truth is, Wade and I’ve been talking about building a little one-room place on the other side of the cornfield. She could live there. Even have her own driveway.”

“She doesn’t drive.”

“We could teach her.”

Cora laughed. “Do you hate your fellow Heart’s Bendians? Mama would be a terror behind the wheel.” She smoothed her hand over his chest and down his arm. “What did we do to deserve you, Birch Good?”

“Love has a way of fortifying a man’s heart. And I love you, Cora.”

She pressed her hand to his chest. “I just don’t know . . .”

He raised her gaze to his, the porch light falling between them. “Just say yes. What’s to not know? Cora, I’ve given you room, like you asked, when you was hurting from Rufus. Then when the shop was under construction after the fire. But time’s marching on and I’m weary of standing still.”

“Did I ask you to stand still for me?”

“Yes, by not telling me out and out, ‘No, I won’t marry you, Birch.’ ”

“Did I know Mama would be going through a hard time?” She folded her arms and lowered her voice. “A divorce. Think of the scandal.”

“I hate to remind you, Cora, but your mama’s been going through a hard time and scandal for over a year. You know I would never stand in the way of you being there for her. I’ll come alongside, help, do all I can. Aren’t two better than one? You led me to believe, given time, you’d consider me. It’s been months. I need an answer.”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“I’ve been patient, Cora.”

She walked back to her rocker, sitting down hard, the light from the lamp cutting a swath through the growing night. “How do I know I’m not making another foolish decision? That I’m not inclined to marry you just because another man broke my heart?”

“If you want an honest answer, you’d be a fool not to marry me. Times are hard. Men all over these parts are losing their farms. Not me. My farm’s not mortgaged. I ain’t in any debt. I got some money set aside, not in the bank, mind you, but I have a good bit put back. I got a cellar full of canned vegetables and fruit. The house don’t have electricity or plumbing, but I’ll get a generator if you marry me. We’ve always been real warm in winter and cool in the summer what with the elms standing so tall. Well, you know, you been to my house a hundred times. You can make it your own, Cora. New paint, new wallpaper. The stove is from before the war, but I’ll buy you a new one. And a refrigerator. Like the ones here in the shop. How’d you like that?”

“Birch, you want me to say yes? How will that play out, hmmm? Me running upstairs to say to my mama, ‘Sorry Daddy’s divorcing you but I’m a-marrying Birch!’ ”

“Fair enough, fair enough. I’ll give you time to tell her,” he said, reaching for her again, pulling her out of the chair and into him, the scent of God’s green earth on his skin. His eyes, like the summer sky, searched hers. “Say yes and it’ll be our secret until you feel right to tell Esmé. I just want to hear you say you’ll marry me. I’ll give you a man’s loving, Cora. Trust me.”

She quivered at his intimate confession. “Give me time, Birch. Let me tell Mama, and then I’ll say yes.”

He released her. “All right. How long do you think it will take?”

“A month? I-I don’t know. I can’t put a time limit on Mama’s pain.”

“But you can on your deliberations. If you don’t want to marry me, just say so. Otherwise, you’re doing me like Rufus did you. Fooling with my affections. Keeping me around for your own needs.”

“I am not. Birch Good, how dare you!”

“But I’m not far off, am I? Cora . . .” His tone wooed her as his lips brushed her neck with a feathery touch.

“Birch—”

“I love you. I want you. Don’t you have any of the same feelings for me?”

“Some, yes, but oh, stop, you’re confusing me.”

“I’m not confusing you. You’re just resisting. I have no doubt we will be the best of lovers.” Birch took another step into her, weakening her resolve with passionate shivers, finding no desire to escape. Mercy . . . Birch. He’d never shown her this side before. He raised her hand to his chest. “My heart’s a-beating.”

So was hers. “Birch, no, behave yourself.” She shoved him aside, gasping, steadying her own rapid pulse.

But he turned her to him, his lips finding hers without pretense, without expectation. Just giving her everything in his heart. She held her stiff arms against his chest as his hand tightened around her back, but after a moment, when his kiss deepened, she let go, wrapping her arms about him, surrendering to the power of his persuasion.

Birch, Birch. She gasped for air when he broke away, stepping back, setting his hat on his wild, dark hair. The sensation of fire running under her skin made her want to reach for him again.

“Just so you know . . .” His voice broke with a laugh. “There’s plenty more where that came from, Cora.” He pushed through the screen door and off the porch. “When you make up your mind, come find me. I hope you say yes.”

Cora pressed her face against the screen, watching him go, her pulse still ablaze, her heart exploding. He’d awakened a passion in her, a strange, fiery kind that even Rufus did not ignite. Instead of feeling alone and empty, she felt full and loved.

She sank into her chair, clinging to the arms, her yes lingering on the tip of her tongue. He was a good man. A kind man. God-fearing. Was it possible? Could it be?

She was in love with Birch Good?