Chapter 48
Cora
Fifty-Nine Years Ago
As the band strikes up, Howard holds out a hand. She arches an eyebrow, letting him lift her from the chair, drawing her over to the space in front of the band, to the dance floor, with all of Woodsmoke looking on. He spins her once, placing his hand on her waist to catch her, and the band sinks into an old, familiar song by Frank Sinatra.
“Howard Price, you young fool,”
Cora says quietly, recognizing the song. “It’s the one you chose on the jukebox after our first date.”
“When I wouldn’t take you home straightaway. We went for Coke floats at Benny’s.”
She laughs breathlessly, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. “You young fool.”
She likes how he smells. All forest and earth and clean laundry. She likes how his hands are always warm, how solid he feels to her. She’s grown to love the steady glow of his quiet strength and goodness these past few months. They’ve had a short courtship by the usual standards, but after all, she’s known Howard since they were at school together. In her mind, the final steps that led them to this day, to this dance floor, were just formalities. She knew what she wanted the moment she heard this song playing on the jukebox at Benny’s.
He twirls her around, and a few more couples join them. Ivy winks at her, and her mother gives her a small, proud smile. But somehow, it’s still just him and her. She likes how he makes her feel, like she’s someone important. Like she’s the only person in the room.
“I want five kids at least,”
he murmurs in her ear. “I want to raise them right here in Woodsmoke, and they can help on the farm, and we’ll all be together. Always. You think you can handle that?”
She snorts, leaning in closer to nuzzle against his neck. “You even need to ask?”
He chuckles, dipping her like they do in the black-and-white films, like they saw at the pictures last week. He dips her and kisses her, and she’s distantly aware of whoops and cheers, of clapping. But she doesn’t push him away. She throws her arms around him and lets that kiss linger on her lips.
She pictures it, all of it. Their shared future together, this path opening up before her, and for the first time in her life she feels like it could be enough. As he brings her back up, the band is moving to the next song, and they slow-dance across a crowded dance floor. She hides a smile, ducking her head against his shoulder, and says, “You know what, Howard Price? I actually think I love you.”