Corra forced air into her lungs. Josiah handed her the letter, offering her the chair. Instead, she settled on the edge of the porch and pulled the lamp closer. Josiah leaned against the railing as she read.
No wonder he despised Jessica’s aunt. The woman had recently married and would be arriving in less than a fortnight. She and her husband would take a room at the boardinghouse and hire a buggy to the ranch.
Corra folded the letter. Everything she’d ever learned screamed at her to not do what she intended. But she stilled the warnings, pushed to her feet, and laid a hand on Josiah’s chest. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The pounding of his heart said everything. And the strength of his embrace convinced Corra that with the Lord’s help, she and Josiah and his family could weather any storm. Even the blustering threats of Aunt Beatrice.
In the next few days, Corra reviewed what she and Jessica had accomplished. They discussed private matters that left the girl blushing, but Corra insisted she be prepared. Her evening readings in Esther set a wistful look in Jessica’s eyes, as if the story of the young queen stirred a challenge in her own heart.
One late morning while she and Jessica helped Pop weed the garden and pull carrots, Joe came tearing into the yard as if chased by Comanches. He leaped from his horse and ran up to the deer fence. Several panting breaths escaped as he pointed back down the road toward Ford Junction.
“Buggy… coming… man and woman.”
Corra bunched her carrot-laden apron and hurried through the post and wire gate. “Jessica, go inside and wash, then change into your Sunday dress.”
Without a word of argument, the girl flew to the house.
“Joe, your father is somewhere in the far pasture. Find him. Tell him. And both of you come back as fast as you can.”
He pulled himself to the horse’s back.
“Wait! How far away are they? How much time do you think we have?”
“Quarter hour, maybe.”
“Go.”
Corra hiked her skirt and ran inside. Oh, Lord, have mercy. Remind Jessica of all the things I tried to teach her. Please don’t let this family be torn apart.
She dumped the carrots in a wash pan, scrubbed her face and hands, and hurried to her room to change. Jessica came in for help with the buttons on her blue dress. The girl stood silently, so compliant that under different circumstances, Corra would have thought her ill or fevered. She combed out the long gold braids and plaited the hair into one thick rope woven through with a blue ribbon saved for a special occasion. If this were not such an occasion, Corra didn’t know what was. Then she turned Jessica around and stooped, meeting her eye to eye.
“Remember, Jess, be yourself. You don’t have to be anyone else. Just like Esther was herself, yet still won the king’s heart. But be your lady self. For your pa. He loves you more than you can imagine.”
Jess blinked her blue saucer eyes and nodded soberly. “I’ll do my best. I don’t want to go live with Aunt Beatrice. I want to stay here with Pa and you.”
Corra swallowed her emotions and pulled Jessica in for a quick hug then set her back and bloused her skirt. “You look lovely. And I know you will do just fine. Let’s get dinner on.”
Weeks of routine drew the two into a pleasant rhythm, and they worked as if it were a normal midday meal and not one with life-changing implications. Jessica took a cooled pie from the windowsill and set it on the counter, slicing it into eight narrow pieces. Corra pulled her pot roast from the oven and lifted the lid to fill the house with the mouthwatering aroma. Garden vegetables ringed the tender meat. Jessica scooped them into a serving bowl, and Corra made gravy. They both jumped at the loud knock.
Jessica squared her thin shoulders and went to the door. Corra held her breath, regretting that she’d been so busy she hadn’t caught sight of the approaching buggy. She patted perspiration from her forehead with her apron hem. Lord, please, let this house not be divided.
The woman who entered with a flurry of skirt and hankie and heavy perfume had to be Beatrice. A thin spectacled man with slicked-back hair followed.
Corra stepped forward. “I am Miss Jameson, the Hanacker’s summer housekeeper and cook. You must be Jessica and Joe’s aunt Beatrice. So happy to make your acquaintance.” She regretted the polite lie until the woman raised her chin and looked down her nose. Corra continued, unruffled. “You and your husband are just in time for dinner.”
Beatrice offered a mean grip in reply, which Corra happily met with her own work-strengthened hand and a prim smile. Boots outside on the porch announced Joe and Josiah.
“Aunt Beatrice, won’t you be seated here at the table.” Jessica drew a chair back. “Miss Corra is right. We are about to have dinner. And I made the pie. I hope you like it.” Jessica curtsied before the man who hadn’t said a word, nor been introduced by his wife. “So pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Corra could have kissed Jessica right there in front of the uppity woman and her speechless husband, but she slid into the background and tended to her duties. Josiah and Joe washed up and went to Joe’s bedroom to comb their hair with something other than their fingers.
Jessica set the table to perfection, and even Joe put on extra manners. Pop raised their guests’ brows with his typically bold-faced manner, but Josiah kept his eyes on his plate for most of the meal. Corra felt obligated to keep the conversation light. Beatrice had no such compunction.
“Jessica, my dear, I know you must miss your mother terribly. I have a rambling home in St. Louis that I would love to have you share. You could have your choice of rooms with a marble bathing tub and a lovely dressing table. And speaking of dresses, I know the best seamstresses in the city.” She paused for a breath and took the opportunity to scrutinize the blue calico. With a sniff and a tsk, she returned to her more than hearty helping of roast beef and endless diatribe over “unfortunate frontier fashions.”
Corra squelched her anger and schooled her face into civil deadpan. Unless her imagination had gotten the better of her, Josiah was grinding his teeth as he chewed. Jessica ignored her aunt and reached for the biscuits, garnering a wink from Pop.
By the time Jessica served her rhubarb pie, Beatrice was winding up for another round.
“Well, it’s settled, then. You will come with us this afternoon when we leave for town. I am sure it will take only a moment to pack your quaint dresses—” The woman’s fork stopped in midair as she cast a horrified expression at Jessica. “You do have more than one dress, don’t you?”
Josiah’s fist hit the table and the dishes rattled. Corra jumped to her feet and reached for the pie tin. “Please, Mr., uh, sir, would you care for the last piece of pie? I do believe Jessica outdid herself this time.”
“Thank you, Miss Jameson.” He tipped his head toward Jessica. “And yes, Jessica, it appears you have become quite the baker. And a lovely young lady, I might add.”
Beatrice blanched, and Corra feared she would stab her new husband with the flatware. Jessica beamed and went to the stove. “Coffee, anyone?”
As Jessica played hostess, Corra gathered dinner plates and set cream on the table. Her fingers ached to rub the knots from Josiah’s shoulders bunching visibly beneath his cotton work shirt. Instead, she returned to her chair and added sugar to her coffee.
A wordless exchange between Beatrice and her husband slumped the woman’s shoulders. Perhaps the little man had more starch than it appeared.
Beatrice took tiny bites of her pie and failed to hide her pleasure at its flavor. Blinking rapidly, she laid her fork aside. “It appears, Jessica, that you have retained much of what your dear departed mother instilled in you.”
Corra let the hard words run off her shoulders. She needed no commendation.
Disappointment dripped from the hard planes of the woman’s face, but she gathered herself. “I shall expect at least two letters a year from each of you children. I do not want to lose touch with my only relations.” It must have been the break in her voice that sent Josiah into a coughing fit, but Beatrice ignored him and pinned Jessica and Joe with watery blue eyes until they nodded their consent.
“Very well, then.” Beatrice rose, insisting she and her husband return before dark. Though relieved to see them go, Corra wondered what route they could possibly take that would spend the long sunny hours of an August afternoon before landing them five miles down the road in Ford Junction.
Pop, Josiah, and the children crowded into the open doorway, watching the buggy turn out of the yard and head down the road. As it disappeared around the first bend, Pop let out a holler. Joe joined him, as did Jessica, but Josiah just stood there taking deep breaths that pulled his shirt tight across his muscled back.
Corra’s heart broke in two.