Chapter Nineteen
The fireplace across the room roared while Josie sat at the kitchen table with Ivy in her lap, her eyes scanning the child’s needlework.
The afternoons were nearly as hot as the flames, but when the sun hid behind the clouds, the nights grew chilly, especially in a drafty cabin.
Josie carefully guided Ivy’s hand as she stitched through a white piece of fabric.
The child had found it in Aunt Polly’s scrap pile in her cabin and rushed back, asking Josie to help her make a nightdress for the baby.
Josie had learned to sew at an early age, focusing mainly on cross-stitching and embroidery.
She never mastered the art of creating dresses until after the war and her marriage.
When exposed to the extreme poverty in the Negro community, Josie felt a strong urge to give away her old clothes and take on the task of making dresses for little girls.
With Marcus controlling her finances, she found it more practical to work from home, always in secret, worried that he might discover her efforts.
It didn’t take long for Marcus to discover that she was teaching and making clothes.
In retaliation, he took everything she owned, ensuring she wouldn’t receive a single penny, even in death.
Stripped of her possessions, she was left with nothing but the name “Mrs. Wellington,” after her father had already passed on, unable to help.
Marcus sold Belle Vallée, wielding his authority as her husband to abuse her.
Josie looked down at Ivy. After an hour of Josie observing Ivy’s hand, the child was doing well with keeping her stitches straight and even. She cherished this time spent with her stepdaughter, especially considering that a month ago, she had feared such moments would never come.
Ivy was almost nine years old, and Josie had been just seven years older than Ivy was now when she was given in marriage to Marcus.
Josie ran her fingers through her stepdaughter’s thin reddish-brown hair.
She was so innocent, so oblivious to the cruel world around her.
Josie longed for the days of her youth, wishing she could reclaim the innocence that shielded her from the world’s wickedness and the true nature of men.
The war had changed everything, stripping away her carefree existence and replacing it with pain and hardship.
It took everything from her, leading her to a life she loathed—one filled with sorrow and struggle instead of the warmth and security she once knew.
Josie peered up to see Lillian enter the living area, clutching the scraps of fabric that were removed to shape Ivy’s piece into a nightdress.
“Josie, can I try?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “You can’t make anything with that. It’s scraps.”
Lillian’s head hung low and poked out her lip. “Oh.”
Josie gently tapped Ivy to encourage her to sit up before approaching the disappointed Lillian. Crouching to meet the child at her level, Josie touched Lillian’s hand, which still clutched the scraps of fabric.
Josie smiled, opening Lillian’s palm. “I think we can make something out of this. Follow me.”
Lillian trailed Josie to the room’s left corner, where the scissors still laid next to the kitchen stove. Josie picked them up and carefully cut the sides of Lillian’s scrap to create a ribbon-like piece. She placed it around Lillian’s head, tying the ends together at her crown.
“Now you have a headband. You look very stylish if I say so myself.”
Just then, the sound of the door closing interrupted their moment as Travis and Jonas walked in. They had been loading grain to take to the mill the next day. Josie and the children had been winnowing for weeks. It was one of the few things Josie felt she could manage without overexerting herself
“Pa, look!” Lillian exclaimed, spinning in her little blue calico dress.
Travis smiled and picked Lillian up. “My my, you look like a little princess.”
Lillian pointed to her headband. “Josie made this for me.”
Travis looked up at Josie, his head giving a little nod. He still hadn’t fully adjusted to her true identity, despite it being two weeks since he learned the truth.
“Thank you, Josie,” he said. He put Lillian down and Ivy approached him with her needlework in hand.
“Pa, look what Josie is helping me make.” She held up the half-made gown.
Travis stiffened for a moment. Josie anxiously awaited his reaction, her fingers nestled tightly together. Travis’s flattened lips curved. “It looks nice, Ivy.” Travis leaned closer to Josie. “I thought I’d come in and tell the children goodnight.”
Warmth flooded through Josie, swirling in her stomach.
It was the first time since June Travis came inside at night, wanting to put the children to bed.
He only came inside to eat, and even then, he rushed, hardly saying a word.
The only time he interacted with the children was when they were outside and Josie wasn’t around.
“Of course. The children would be delighted.”
Travis roved his gaze from her to the children in the living area. He grinned and clapped. “Last one to the bedroom is a rotten egg.”
Josie watched as the children bolted into the bedroom. Travis chuckled softly before turning back to her. Josie’s cheeks flushed, and she longed to say something, something that would fight this distance away. “Thank you, Travis. I’m glad you’re doing this.”
Travis nodded, his thumbs resting around his suspenders. “I thought it was about time.”
Josie watched as Travis walked down the hallway, disappearing into the children’s room.
A faint smile tugged at her lips; it was comforting to see him with his children under the same roof as her.
Times were changing for them, but doubt crept into her mind.
After the Founder’s Day Dance, she had hoped they might grow closer, maybe even become one family, but now . . . she wasn’t so sure.
Travis had been bold enough to remain in her presence, yet it didn’t mean he would truly accept her. And, deep down, Josie wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.
The cabin was cozy compared to the loft, nearly tempting Travis to remain inside.
Despite it still being summer, the mountain air was something else at night.
He wished to be back in his own bed again, but it wasn’t his place anymore.
He could survive another cold night in the loft.
Travis strode towards the crackling fire, feeling warmth on his face.
Maybe a night by the fire wouldn’t be too bad.
Lost in thought, he heard a creak. He turned, seeing Josie asleep in the rocker near the stove.
She looked so peaceful with her eyes closed, relaxed in the chair, her hands resting on her growing stomach.
Travis retrieved a quilt from the basket beside the fireplace and carefully stepped towards Josie.
As soon as he draped it over her legs, she jolted awake, her breath hitching and eyes twice their size.
Travis touched her shoulder. “It’s me. Sorry I startled you. ”
Josie sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Sorry. I’m a light sleeper, you could say.”
For a moment, Travis could swear there had been terror in her eyes.
He often thought about her previous life, how she said her late husband would hurt her.
There could be multiple interpretations.
Did he hit her? Lock her away? Was he drunk during these moments?
Did he ever apologize? Just thinking about it made his blood boil.
Those eyes of hers could only hide so much.
“Is the fire warm enough?” Travis asked, pointing behind him.
Josie pulled the covers to her chin. “I thought you were with the children.”
Travis pulled a chair from the dining table and set it beside her. “I was,” Travis explained, lowering himself. “They said their prayers and were almost out by the time I turned down their lamp.”
“I’m not surprised. They are exhausted.”
Travis leaned back. “At least we have the worst parts of the harvest behind us.”
Despite not working in the fields, Josie still labored like a dog.
Aunt Polly advised her to rest most of the time, but she pushed herself forward.
She was indeed the worker she had said herself to be—that was no lie.
Josie woke early, made breakfast, took care of Gideon who was already walking, dressed the children, and supervised them as she winnowed the seedlings.
Sophie was strong-willed and stubborn during her pregnancies. She never let her condition stand in her way as a wife, mother, and homemaker. But that took a toll on her during her pregnancies with Gideon and Lillian. She grew terribly ill yet remained determined—until her final weeks of life.
“You should be resting as well. You work too hard.”
Josie shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s normal to be a little tired. I’ll just have to push through it.”
Travis sighed, shaking his head. Stubborn woman. “You have such a heavy load, Josie. You care for this house, children, me, and the harvest. I want to bring Aunt Polly back in to help out.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “No, you don’t have to bother her. I don’t need you to lose an extra person in the fields.”
Travis could manage on his own. He’d done it before when Aunt Polly was sick with a cold years ago. He thought about asking Ronan, but he had trouble with his own harvest and five children to feed. Mr. Scott, who was two miles east, had hired hands, unlike Travis, who could never afford it.
“I can manage. You and the baby are my priority now. You should take breaks.”
“And what will I do in these breaks?” Josie asked, her features twisted in what Travis couldn’t read as anger or frustration. “If you’re asking me to stay in bed all day, I won’t do it.”
Travis folded his hand in front of him. “Josie, please listen to me. I can’t have you . . . I can’t have you at risk again.”
Josie stared towards the fire, rocking back and forth.
“If it’s that important to you, Aunt Polly can come, but she won’t order me around.
I’ll try to manage the best I can. I am not only a mother, but I am also your wife.
I vowed to stand beside you as your helpmeet, and that’s the least I can do, given what I put you through.
” Josie paused, pulling her loose hair behind her ear.
“You shouldn’t be staying in that barn. It’s getting colder. ”
“It’s not too bad.”
“I . . . I can stay in here and you could have your room back. Or . . . I can stay with the children in their rooms.”
Travis shook his head. “No, you need your space. It’s getting closer to your time.”
“I’m fine,” Josie sternly insisted. “Don’t you worry about me.”
Travis looked into her brown eyes, studying them now that her fear had melted away, now holding her stubborn spirit.
Josie’s pale face glowed as the orange light from the flames illuminated the room.
She was a sight, but a sight that was too complicated to admit was beautiful.
She was unlike any woman he met before—mysterious and unpredictable.
Even though she deceived him, he couldn’t deny that she had a way of drawing him in, like a honeysuckle to bees, a fly to embers, a moth to flame.
He couldn’t trust her, and he couldn’t trust himself getting too close. Who knew what would happen if he held her in his arms . . . perhaps kissed her.
“Goodnight, Josie,” he said, standing up from his seat.
Josie placed her hand on her swollen abdomen. “Good night, Travis.”
Travis shut the door from behind him, buttoning his coat around him as the brisk wind hit his face. He was free of her now. He told her what was on his mind, just enough to keep her safe.
But what needed the most protection was his heart.