Chapter 15 #2
She looked around at the circle of faces and gave them her sunny, squint-eyed smile. Judging by her chortle, she seemed satisfied with their astonishment.
Then D-O-G. Same process, same triumph. “Dog!”
Ivy knelt beside her and whispered an encouraging prompt.
Jewel set down S and hesitated on the U, her brow furrowing. She looked up at Ivy.
Ivy gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
His child placed the U with renewed confidence and then added another letter. “S-U-N. “Sun!”
The silence that followed was profound—the kind of silence that fills a room when something extraordinary has happened, and everyone needs a moment to absorb their amazement. Then clapping broke out.
Torin watched his friends’ faces and saw the emotion of Jewel’s accomplishments reflected in their expressions.
Hank's eyes had gone suspiciously bright. He blinked rapidly and turned his head toward the window, his jaw working.
Brian cleared his throat once, twice, and then a third time, his green eyes glistening above the knuckles he held against his chin.
Cora cupped her face with her hands, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, making no effort whatsoever to hide them.
Elsie watched with shining eyes, her hand pressed to her mouth. "She’s wonderful.” She bent to whisper to Ivy. “Cora told me what you might accomplish, but I didn’t fully understand.”
“Jewel learns differently,” Ivy said. “It takes patience and repetition and—honestly—a great deal of imagination. But she learns. Every day, she learns a little bit.”
“Did I not say she was a wonderful teacher?” Cora pointed at Ivy with a mock accusatory finger, her voice wobbly with emotion. “Didn’t I say it?” She glared at Torin and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her tears. “Didn't I tell all of you?”
“You did,” Torin confirmed quietly, warmth in his chest. He looked at Ivy, who knelt on the rug beside his daughter, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “I was skeptical, and thank the Good Lord, you were so very right.”
But Cora was not to be satisfied with just that acknowledgment. “I also said she'd be good for Jewel. And for you.” She aimed this last word at Torin with the precision of a woman who'd been waiting months to say I told you so and intended to savor every syllable.
“Cora,” Brian murmured, sliding his hand around her waist.
“Well, I did.” She ruffled up.
They all laughed.
For the next half hour, Jewel held court.
She sat on the parlor rug with her felt letters spread around her like a colorful kingdom and demonstrated her accomplishments for her courtiers and ladies-in-waiting.
Each letter was held up, its sound pronounced, an example word supplied.
“Buh. Buh is for Bave.” She squeezed the kitten, who bore the embrace nobly.
Jewel reached to touch a cookie plate. “Duh. Duh is for dish. Jewel good wash-er.”
“That you are, my sugar princess,” Brian drawled, circumspectly swiping the back of his hand over his eyes.
“Eff. Eff is for flow-er.” With fierce concentration, Jewel rearranged her letters. “J-E-W-E-L,” the child sounded out, placing each letter with painstaking care. “Jewel! Dat’s me!”
“That's you,” Ivy confirmed, her voice soft with pride. “The most precious jewel there is.”
A surge of happy energy went through Torin. Everyone here saw his daughter in the way he did. Everything I want is right here. The idea dumbfounded him.
The afternoon unfolded from there in a stream of warmth and laughter and the easy pleasure of friends who didn't see each other often enough. They gathered around the dining room table, scooting close together to make space for Jewel’s chair brought in from the kitchen, and partook of the food lovingly prepared by the three women.
Torin sat in his place at the head and looked down the length of the table at the dear people arranged around it and tried to capture this moment in his memory.
Hank carved the ham Elsie brought. Cora distributed biscuits with the efficiency of a quartermaster.
Ivy spooned beans onto Jewel’s plate while gently redirecting the girl's attempt to feed Brave from the serving bowl.
And his daughter presided over the gathering with the regal authority of a child who has never had so much company and found the experience magnificent.
“More bis-kit,” Jewel requested, reaching across the table with an enthusiasm that nearly toppled the butter dish.
“One more.” Ivy touched her hand. “And what do you say?”
“Ple-ea-se.” The word was drawn out to three syllables, each one brighter than the last.
“Charming and mannerly.” Hank passed the biscuit basket. “Better table manners than Brian, and I say that with affection.”
“Agreed.” Deliberately uncouth, Brian tilted back his head and popped a piece of biscuit into his mouth.
Cora rolled her eyes. But when she smiled at her betrothed, her expression glowed.
Torin found himself grinning and realized his face muscles felt stretched out by the unfamiliar position they’d been in since his friends’ arrival. He looked at Ivy and caught her watching him. The warmth in her hazel eyes made his breath hitch.
He looked away. But not before Hank saw. From his knowing expression, Torin knew he’d hear about his attraction to the governess sooner or later.
Hank reached for another biscuit and, under the table, knocked his boot against Torin's in a gesture that in the wordless language of their friendship meant I told you so.
Sooner.
Thank goodness, no one else noticed.
Luckily, everyone else was enthralled with Brian’s description of the final edits to his book.
With his exaggerated expressions and animated gestures, his storytelling gifts were on full display.
He recounted the battles with his New York publisher over word choices and chapter divisions and whether Sheriff Granger should be changed into a man, or two characters should be combined into one.
“I had to keep reminding him this wasn’t a novel! ”
Hank talked about the house plans, now professionally drawn up by Andre Bellaire’s architect.
Elsie added her own modifications with the eagerness of a woman who’d spent her young lifetime dreaming of a beautiful home.
Ivy listened with rapt attention, obviously enjoying the bustle and noise and overlapping voices of a group of friends at ease with one another.
She asked questions, offered opinions, laughed at Brian's wit and Hank’s dry asides, and exchanged frequent glances with Cora that seemed to be their own conversations.
After they’d finished eating and the dishes were cleared, they continued talking, this time breaking into smaller conversational groups.
Torin unapologetically eavesdropped on Ivy and Elsie discovering a shared fascination with fabric and handwork through their focus on Jewel’s letters.
Jewel looked on with approval as Elsie examined each one with the professional eye of a seamstress, testing the stitching, feeling the stuffing.
“These are lovely, but the felt will wear quickly.” Elsie turned the A over in her hands.
“What if I made a second set from sturdier fabric? Cotton duck or canvas, with a layer of batting inside. They’d hold up better to Jewel's handling.”
“Would you?” Ivy’s face lit up. “That would be wonderful.”
“You two are going to be dangerous together,” Hank observed from his chair, obviously not at all bothered by Elsie’s feistiness.
“Extremely,” Ivy agreed, her expression aglow.
Torin couldn’t help but agree. Just what I’m afraid of.
In a quiet moment, when the men were occupied with Jewel chattering about Brave, Ivy pulled the other women into the kitchen to help her make coffee and tea and cut the chocolate cake Cora had brought from the bakery. She wanted a little female time.
“I can see you've done wonders for Torin and Jewel.” Elsie turned to Ivy with the kind of frank warmth that, apparently, was her personality. “And the house feels different from before. Alive.”
The word startled Ivy. “I haven't done much. Just—teaching. Some housekeeping. Really, Torin does most of the hard work.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Elsie tilted her head, shrewdness in her big, brown eyes. “I mean Torin himself. He’s lighter. Less clenched. As if he can finally breathe.”
Ivy’s cheeks heated, and she busied herself with pouring tea into delicate cups and saucers. She handed one to Cora. “I think spring did that. The winter was hard on him.”
Exchanging a knowing glance with Cora, Elsie made a small sound that was not quite agreement and not quite contradiction. She accepted her cup of tea and took a sip.
Ivy wondered why she couldn’t acknowledge the changes in Torin. Maybe because I’m not ready to admit how much I’ve changed.
She poured coffee into three mugs and stood for a moment, watching the dark liquid swirl. Through the kitchen door, she could hear Jewel’s laughter and the buzz of male voices.
This is what we’ll lose when our friends leave. The laughter. The noise of conversations. The feeling of being part of a family. In the kitchen, she wanted to grasp the hands of both women, so grateful for the feeling of feminine support. If only they would move here.
Ivy caught the selfish thought and banished it. Cora and Elsie were happy and fulfilled following their long-held dreams—and for that to keep happening, they needed to live in town. Admitting to any loneliness would only worry Cora.
After taking the men their cups of coffee and Jewel a glass of milk, as well as slices of cake for all of them, the three drank their tea and ate their own pieces at the kitchen table.
Elsie described some of Delia’s and baby Andrea’s new outfits.
Cora talked about the rigors of living on the prairie while awaiting the birth of her patient’s baby.
“Not at all like being alone in beautiful Three Bend Lake,” she said with a languid wave of her hand.
“The prairie is so dreary. I thought I’d go out of my mind with boredom. ”
Elsie gave a vigorous nod. “Except in springtime. If you know where to look to find the wildflowers, the prairie is a beautiful place. Even so,” she said fervently, “I’d rather be in town.”
Cora went on to describe Delia’s laying-in.
Those at the house had been almost as concerned Andre Bellaire would have another heart attack due to his worry as they were about Delia’s labor.
Luckily, mother, baby, and grandfather emerged from the ordeal in good health.
“I declare that child will never learn to walk. She’s always in someone’s arms.”
Not at all fooled by Cora’s teasing tone, Ivy poked her arm. “Including yours, I’m sure.”
“Even Brian’s.” Cora’s eyes grew dreamy. “Seeing him with Andrea, with Jewel…” She let out a happy sigh. “My children will have a wonderful father.”
Ivy thought of Torin, of the loving father he was to Jewel, and, for a moment, she fantasized of the three of them as a family, along with more children. At least two, a boy and a girl.
But too many obstacles lay in the way. Today’s socializing had given her a new awareness. Even if he loved me and wanted to wed, I wouldn’t be willing to raise my children secretly in Three Bend Lake.