Josie hung the dish towel up to dry in the sun and wiped her damp hands on her apron as she walked back into the kitchen, grateful for the solitude. Lacy had decided to play with her dolls upstairs, and Cord had opened the store.
It was the first few moments to herself she’d had in days. Josie decided to have a look in the armoire and see if it contained another serviceable work dress. She really had no need for the nicer dresses that Cordell’s wife had sewn. She wore the cream calico for church, and that was the only other place she went here in Houlton.
The armoire still stood at the bottom of the stairs. Josie wondered how long it would remain there. The darn thing was simply too large to put in her tiny room. She didn’t need it anyway. All she needed was a change of clothes and the cream calico. And when she left, none of it would leave with her.
Josie opened the wardrobe door and peeked at the clothes it contained. Emily Williams had been fond of calicos, in pastel colors. Happy, feminine dresses that said she was a woman with respectability. High-necked, long-sleeved, not a scrap of satin or dingy lace in sight. It was a far cry from the wardrobe Josie had lived with. She ran a hand along the sleeves, feeling the soft cotton’s whisper past her fingers.
Ridiculous, she knew, but Josie wondered if by simply putting on these dresses, they would impart some of Emily’s respectability to her.
Almost reverently, she took out a dress, sunny yellow sprigged with tiny flowers and leaves. The neckline had been embroidered with small white, yellow-centered daisies. Josie ran a finger along the stitches, studying their form, imagining Emily Williams sitting in her parlor, Cord at her side, the children at her feet, stitching these tiny flowers on her new dress.
A warmth filled her. Family. That was what Emily represented. A contentment that Josie had never known. But she would find it. As soon as she found her little girl, she would have her own family, and find that contentment. She would take her daughter to another town and start over again. She would tell the people she was a widow, find work and a place to stay until she could buy their own home. It didn’t have to be big. Just big enough for the two of them. Josie would have her family. She smiled.
"I always liked that one."
She jumped and sucked in a breath. Cord stood next to the armoire, studying her, something tender, almost wistful in his eyes.
"What are you doing there? You startled me."
He nodded to the dress she clutched protectively to her chest. "You can have that dress. I want you to have all of them."
She looked down at the perfect stitches. "Oh, I couldn’t wear this dress."
He frowned. "Why not?"
"It’s so pretty. I’d ruin it."
"A pretty girl deserves a pretty dress." Cord scowled at himself. "Listen to me, I sound like Jack. Just take the dresses and get some use out of them. They’re only gathering dust."
"But--" She shook her head. "Thank you very much, but really I only need one or two." She took a last look at the sunny yellow dress and hung it back up, smoothing the fabric so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Cord watched her. His eyes seemed always on her, unnerving her. "Did you want something?"
His eyes popped open as if woke from a trance. "Yes. I came to ask you something. I need...well, you see..." Cord heaved a sigh. "I know I told you when you started that you wouldn’t have to work in the store, but with this damn sling I can’t seem to get my books done, and I was wondering if you had time to help me."
Josie swallowed. "With customers?" she said, trying to keep the dread from her voice.
He waved a dismissing hand. "No, no. I’ve managed pretty well so far. I just need you to write down the charges and things like that. I’m having a hell of a time with my left hand."
Josie’s pulse raced. Help him in the store? "But I’ve seen you, you’re left-handed."
He gave her a lopsided grin. "The blasted thing is that I don’t write left-handed."
She realized she hadn’t ever seen him write. But he grabbed everything with his left hand, held his glass in his left hand. "I don’t understand."
"I had a teacher who thought I shouldn’t be left-handed, and she’d smack me with a ruler every time she caught me using my left hand. So I learned to write with my right hand." He looked down at the sling on his arm. "And now I can’t write at all with this damn arm, so I need your help."
Josie shook her head. "But, I have--"
"Don’t worry about keeping the laundry and the house just right. We’ve survived before, it’ll be fine. Lacy can come play behind the counter where we can keep an eye on her."
From the open door behind him, the distant tinkling of the bell above the store’s front door called. "It’s easy, I’ll show you how," he called over his shoulder as he turned.
Josie’s heart thumped in her chest. "I don’t know..."
He stopped and turned back to her. "I’ll raise your wages, of course. I don’t expect you to help in the store and keep the house on what I give you now."
"No, it’s not that--"
He disappeared into the store before she could finish her words. Josie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She had no choice. He expected her to follow him into that store. How could she make him understand that she couldn’t do what he asked? How, without giving away a part of herself that she kept hidden? Without letting him see that bit of her that said to the world she was nothing but trash?
Cord’s head peeked around the door. "Josie, I need your help now."
Josie swallowed the thick lump that had lodged in her throat. She stepped closer to the door, wracking her mind for some way to get out of helping him. Her legs carried her toward the store, but her mind screamed to run. She couldn’t do this. He’d find out her secret, and then the questions would start, and it wouldn’t take long for him to piece together the truth about her. No, she couldn’t go in there. Panic rose within her.
A warm hand wrapped around her fingers and Josie found herself pulled through the doorway into the back of the store. Cordell guided her through the stacks and bins of goods.
"I need you to get a skillet off that shelf for me, if you would," he said, pulling her to a wall lined to the ceiling with shelves full of goods. "I can’t quite manage the ladder and the skillet with this blasted sling."
Relief washed through Josie. He wanted her to climb a ladder, not write for him, and even managed to look embarrassed to have to ask her. Cord held the sliding ladder with his good hand as she climbed up and hefted a cast iron skillet from the stack.
"Is this the one?"
"No, dear, the larger one," said the woman standing next to Cord. "I need it big enough for a dozen eggs."
Josie nodded at the gray-haired woman and hefted the pan back to the shelf. A jumble of pans and pots, lids and tin dishes occupied the shelf, in no apparent order. She searched, but couldn’t’ find anything larger than the pan she’d put back.
"Behind the coffee pots," Cord called to her. "To your left."
Josie searched the dusty shelf. Sure enough, she found a larger skillet right where he said it would be. Josie smiled to herself. He’d surprised her.
She climbed down and handed the skillet to Cord. He took it to the counter and awkwardly wrapped it in paper with one hand. "Thank you Mrs. Springer. I’ll put it on your bill. Glad to hear your son is home to help on the farm again."
The woman beamed at him. "Oh, so am I. I’ve missed him so. Thomas is bringing home his new bride. I can’t wait to meet her."
Cord turned to Josie as the bell rang out the woman’s departure. He slid a large book in front of her and opened to a page. Cold fingers of dread wrapped around her heart.
"Now, this is easy. This is Mrs. Springer’s bill, and all you do is write what she bought and what it cost."
"I--I’m sorry, I didn’t...What?" Josie could barely hear him for the ringing in her ears.
Cord handed her a pencil. "You just write down that she bought a large skillet here and..."
His words faded away as her heart beat faster. Josie stared at the page in front of her, her eyes swimming. The lead pencil was awkward and foreign in her fingers. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily, trying to clear the threatening darkness that her mind knew so well.
Maybe that was the answer. Let her mind take her to the safe place. To the dark, warm recesses of her mind, where she didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to think or know, where everything washed over her and nothing mattered.
"...and this is the column where you write charges." Cordell’s voice invaded her head. Josie blinked back nausea and tried to concentrate on his words.
"Don’t worry about balancing the columns, we’ll work on that later. Josie? Are you all right?"
Josie took another deep breath. Beads of sweat prickled her skin. A chilling shiver ran down her spine and over her limbs, she tried to shake it off. "I--I’m fine," she lied.
All that she’d worked for, all that she’d gained here, would all come to an end. He would know, and then she would have to leave, and try to start over someplace else. But she had to find her daughter, and the child was here in Houlton. All of Josie’s thoughts collided in her mind, buzzing and humming, crashing into one another until she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think.
All of her plans destroyed. Simply because she couldn’t read or write.
Cord grabbed Josie’s arm with his good hand and leaned her against the counter. She looked about to faint, and he wouldn’t be able to catch her, not with his damned useless arm in a sling.
"Christ, Josie, stop it," he said shaking her. A vacant stare shone from her glazed-over turquoise eyes. Her forehead was cool and damp beneath his palm. "Josie, snap out of it!" He shook her again, and she moved like a limp doll. What the hell was wrong with her?
Cord looked around, grasping for some kind of help. The store was empty of customers, and the damn chair was out of reach. He was pretty sure if he let go of her that she’d crumple to the floor.
Urgently, he patted her face, trying to get some kind of reaction from her. She acted as though she were asleep with her eyes open. "Dammit! Josie, wake up! C’mon, wake up!"
Cordell nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell rang out above the door. Thank God, someone to help him.
"Well, good afternoon, Cordell." Jackson’s familiar drawl filled the store.
"Jack! Get over here!" Cord cried out.
"What is it?"
"Hurry!" She was getting heavier, and he couldn’t hold her up with one hand if she decided to faint on him.
"Good Lord," Jack said, as he rushed to the counter and grabbed Josie by the shoulders. "What’s wrong with her?"
"I don’t know." Cord dragged the chair over and set it behind Josie’s legs, then guided her into it. "I was showing her how to help me with the books and she started acting strange, like she was going to faint. I can’t get her to stop." He patted her cheek again. "Josie, wake up!"
Jackson rounded the counter. "Here, let me." He scooped her up out of the chair and headed for the door to the living quarters. "Where do you want her?" he called over his shoulder.
"Upstairs," Cord shouted, quickly turning the closed sign and locking the front door.
Cord bounded up the stairs after Jack, watching Josie’s limp body sway with every step his friend took. What the hell was going on?
"My room." He rushed past Jack and swung open the door to his room, kicking yesterday’s clothes into the corner. He yanked back the quilt and plumped the pillow as best he could with his good arm.
Jack placed Josie’s lifeless body on Cord’s bed, and covered her with the quilt as he sat down on the edge beside her. Cord hovered beside him as Jack gathered her fingers in his and patted her hand.
"Miss Josie, you wake up now. Jackson will take good care of you, but you need to wake up, you hear?"
Cord jammed his hand through his hair. Fear and confusion gripped him. "Christ, Jack, should I go get the doctor?"
"Wait a little longer, Cord. Give her a chance."
Cord laid his hand against her forehead. Her skin was cold and clammy. "She’s been like this too long. What do I do?"
"Just calm down, Cord. She’ll be fine."
Jack’s calmly spoken words did nothing to ease Cord’s rising panic. He paced next to the bed, uneasiness growing on him. Jack leaned over her and gently patted her cheek.
"I already tried that," Cord said. Josie just laid there, unmoving.
"Cord, sit down. You’re makin’ the furniture nervous." Jack gave her a gentle slap. Josie stirred, whimpering.
"She moved!" Cord gripped Jack’s shoulder. "Do it again!"
Jack slapped her cheek lightly. Josie moaned, tossing her head to the side.
"No," she whimpered. "Not me. Go away."
"What did she say?" Cord leaned over Jack’s shoulder, straining to hear her. Thank God she was coming to.
Jack took her hand again. "Sounded like she wants us to leave her alone."
Cord tried to ignore Jack’s hand wrapped around hers. "I’m not going anywhere until I find out if she’s all right. Try to wake her again."
Fritz’s body hovered over hers, moving and shifting, blurry and distorted. His hand lashed out against her cheek. Josie shrunk back into the bed.
"Please stop. Don’t hurt me anymore."
But her pleas never worked with Fritz. He enjoyed hurting her. And the more she cried out, the more he beat her. She retreated farther into her safe place, floating in the darkness where nothing could ever find her.
He hit her again. Josie lay quietly like a rag doll, letting him toss and shake her. If she didn’t react, he would just use her and go away, stop the beating. It was always easier just to let him have his way than to fight back.
His body shifted again, separating into two figures. She kept her eyes unfocussed so she wouldn’t have to look at his face, either of them. The smell of tobacco filled her mind. But it was fine tobacco, not like usual.
"You need discipline!" Fritz’s thick accent echoed in her mind, as all his past taunts welled up in her memory. She tried to push them away, but they kept coming, kept invading her floating place. She couldn’t keep them out. Only Josie could be there, not the memories. Nothing else should be there with her.
"No!" she cried out. "Leave me be! Stop hurting me!"
Josie snapped open her eyes and stared up at the unfocussed face looming above her, her mind a wild swirling of visions, terror engulfing her. Her safe place had failed her.
"It’s all right now, Josie," a soft, familiar voice floated to her ears, as a gentle hand stroked her hair.
The room spun and blurred, the light fading and then growing. "Please not me," she whimpered, "not me tonight. Don’t hurt me."
"You’re safe," the warm voice told her. "No one will hurt you. I’m right here."
She closed her eyes again and took a breath, inhaling sweet tobacco and Bay Rum, not the stink of onions and sausage. Was this a different place? A new safe place? Or had she crossed over finally, after begging so many times for death.
"Are you an angel?" she asked, afraid to open her eyes and see Fritz’s grotesque figure grunting over her.
"I can assure you," another voice, with a soft, familiar lilt, told her, "that Cordell here is no angel. My dear, you must be worse off than we suspected."
"Shut up, Jack."
Josie opened her eyes and let the shapes come into focus. Cordell Williams leaned over her, concern etching his face. Jackson DuPree stood beside the bed, a glowing cigarette between his teeth.
"It’s about time," said Jack. "I was beginning to get worried about poor Cordell here."
Josie looked at Cord’s pained face. "Are you all right?"
He shook his head and the lines on his face eased a bit. "I’m fine, now. How do you feel?"
"I’m...confused." She sat up slightly and looked around. This wasn’t her room. Wasn’t her bed. A bubble of fear lodged in her throat. "What am I doing in here? Why am I in your bed?"
Jack flicked his ash out the open window. "My dear, you were incapacitated. We thought it best to lay you down."
Cord laid a warm hand on her shoulder and eased her back to the pillow. "Just rest a bit. You were...ill."
She rose up on her elbows. "I’m fine now. Let me get up. I have work downstairs."
"Josie, please just lie back. You gave me a hell of a scare, and I want you to take it easy. I’ll take care of downstairs. You just rest." He looked up at Jack. "Get out of here. I want her to rest." Cord stood and waited for Jack to exit, then followed, pulling the door behind him.
He paused, his eyes searching hers, a deep frown on his face. "Josie, I think we should talk when you feel better. I’m concerned about a few things."