Chapter 38 #2
“To that end,” Mr. Prince continued, “I’ll be returning to Jack Daniel’s Distillery next week. Mrs. Dunham, Mr. Daniel tells me you’ve organized that office from top to bottom, so I assume all the paperwork will be in tip-top shape!”
The comment stabbed her conscience, and the discomfort only deepened when Mr. Daniel walked in.
“Good evening, my illustrious friends.” Mr. Daniel tipped his hat to her, then placed it on a chair in the corner.
“Mr. Prince, I overheard what you were saying and nothing could be closer to the truth. I daresay that office could almost run itself without me now. Mrs. Dunham has whipped it—and me, in particular—quite into shape.”
Laughter rose as he claimed a seat, even from Josephine, but hers felt hollow inside.
“Hey Dodge!”
She froze when Mr. Daniel looked past her, and she didn’t dare turn around.
“Come on in and join us for supper.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jack, but I’ll take my meal in the kitchen tonight. That way you can’t hassle me about seconds or thirds.”
More laughter, then Mr. Motlow turned in his chair.
“Dodge, I haven’t seen you since hearing the news about you and Bethie staying here.
In a way, I was awful sorry to get wind of it.
I know what the prospect of that move meant to you.
To your sister, too, God rest her,” he added softly.
“On the other hand, I’m glad you’re staying.
There’ve been Coburns in these hills and hollers almost since the very beginning. Wouldn’t be the same without you, son.”
“That’s kind of you to say, sir. Thank you.”
“I’m assuming you’re selling your land out there?” Mr. Motlow continued.
“Yes, sir. Already have it listed with an agent. But he said it could take a while.”
“Well, if there’s anything the bank can do to help with that, you give me a holler. I’ll handle it personally.”
She wondered if anyone else heard the underlying sadness in Dodge’s voice, then noticed Mr. Daniel watching her. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, then slid to Dodge before landing back on her. Josephine averted her gaze, wondering if her feelings about Dodge were so easily read.
“Dodge . . .” Mrs. Gibbs adopted a motherly demeanor. “I’d be obliged if you’d stop by in the next day or two and see to a couple of our cows. They ain’t been giving milk like they ought.”
“I’d be happy to, ma’am. But I just saw your husband yesterday and he made no mention of it.”
“Well, that’s probably ’cause he ain’t been doing the milking lately.
Back’s been giving him trouble come morning.
Or so he says.” Mrs. Gibbs’s laughter sounded a little too high-pitched.
“I hope you liked that jar of muscadine jelly my Rowena toted over the other day. She put it up herself last fall. Don’t you be in a hurry when you come, and she’ll cook you up some supper ’fore you leave. ”
“That’s not necessary, ma’am. I appreciate the offer and am happy to come out, but I won’t be able to—”
“Ain’t no trouble for her at all. My girl knows her way ’round a kitchen, sure as sunrise. Which is more than some women can say these days . . .”
As Mrs. Gibbs went on, Josephine sneaked a look at Dodge and the tightness in his expression was telling. She grabbed the opportunity to slip back into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, only to come face to face with Bethie standing by the stove as Miss Mary filled her plate.
“Are you eating in here, too?” A scowl replaced Bethie’s earlier smile.
“Bethie.” Miss Mary frowned. “You don’t have to hitch your wagon to every mule, but there’s no cause to start kicking at them either. Besides, Mrs. Dunham here is your senior. What would your uncle say if he heard you speaking like that?”
Bethie briefly bowed her head, but Josephine caught the side-eyed look the girl gave her—and secretly admired her honesty and spunk.
“Hello, Bethie. It’s good to see you again, and no, I’m not eating in here tonight. In fact, I’m not too hungry this evening. I think I’ll just—”
“You have to eat, Josephine.” Miss Mary handed Bethie her food and shooed the girl toward the table, then nodded toward a stack of empty plates.
“Dodge’ll be joining us, too. So if everything is served out there, I’ll go on in and offer thanks and get supper underway.
Now fix yourself a plate, and make it a good one. You’re lookin’ a little peaked.”
Sensing someone’s attention, Josephine caught Calla looking her way. Calla held her gaze overlong before turning back to the stove, but Josephine counted that as an improvement.
Miss Mary held out a plate. “First Mrs. Gibbs, then Bethie . . . You’re just making all sorts of friends in this town, aren’t you?”
“It sure seems that way, doesn’t it.”
“Well, don’t you pay it much mind.” Miss Mary leaned closer.
“We all know which bee is still in Miss Bethie’s bonnet, and as for Mrs. Gibbs .
. .” She sighed. “Lord forgive me, but I think that woman could find fault in our Lord Jesus Christ himself. Truth be known, I doubt she likes me much either. But I pay her good, so she has to act like it!”
Miss Mary gently bumped shoulders with her and the gesture was so surprising, so unexpected, that Josephine didn’t know how to respond.
In recent days, Miss Mary’s mood had been undeniably lighter, and it occurred to Josephine that Mr. Bobo had left three days ago on out-of-town business.
Then again, the few times she’d seen them together, the snippets of conversation she’d overheard from the couple had been anything but contentious.
She’d even caught them laughing together more than once.
“Thank you, Miss Mary,” she finally whispered.
“For what exactly?”
Josephine looked around. “For all of this. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t said yes to me staying here that first night.”
Miss Mary’s expression grew thoughtful. “We all got our story, don’t we?
Chapters we don’t want read aloud, and other parts we pray to God nobody ever reads at all.
But the thing is . . . he reads them, every page, every word, and loves us anyway.
Whatever it is you’re carrying, Josephine, remember that.
” Her features sobered. “While also remembering you gave me your solemn word you wouldn’t bring trouble to my doorstep. I aim to hold you to that.”
Both goodwill and tempered steel shone in the woman’s gaze. “I know,” Josephine whispered again. “And I aim to keep that promise. No matter what.”
Miss Mary nodded as if the deal were done, then pressed a hand to her midsection, a shadow flitting across her face.
“That bit of okra I sneaked earlier isn’t setting too well.
” She exhaled. “But I best get out there and tend to our guests. Make sure Mr. Motlow and Mr. Parks aren’t about to come to blows. ”
Josephine dished a spoonful of candied apples, fried okra, and pinto beans from the pots and pans on the stove onto her plate, but passed over the roasted pork, carrots, and potatoes. She pulled a warm yeast roll from the pan, the butter Calla had slathered on the top slicking her fingertips.
“If you call that supper, I might need to teach you a thing or two about eating here at Miss Mary’s.”
She briefly clenched her eyes before turning to face the inevitable. Dodge’s smile held humor, kindness, and a trace of something else. Apology, perhaps?
“I’m just not that hungry tonight, I guess. I think I’ll take my plate back to Calla’s room.”
“We’re going to have to see each other, Josephine,” he said softly. “Might as well stop avoiding the unavoidable. Namely . . . me.”
“I’m not avoiding you, I—”
A sense of knowing moved into his gaze. “The backroom? This morning?”
Her mouth slipped open. “You saw me?”
“Through the window. You’re going to have to move faster than that next time. Either that or keep the curtains in the office closed.”
She briefly bowed her head, then decided if he could face it directly then so could she. “If I keep the curtains closed then I won’t be able to see you coming.”
He laughed. “Well played.”
“Dodge . . .” She paused, her gaze fixed on the stove. “I don’t know what possessed me to—”