Now, as she pulled a book from a shelf, she turned to me. “The patrons tell me what they like to read, and I choose something for them. Each person gets one book a week. I take back the one I delivered the previous visit after I drop off the new one.”
“Many of these books came from Papa’s own library,” she said. “He had loads to donate. If you look inside them, you’ll see his name and date he purchased them.”
“That was generous of him,” I said.
“He wanted every citizen to have the opportunity for an education and a book whenever they wanted. When Mama first came here, she taught adult classes at night. Anyone who wanted to learn to read in English could.”
“Do the night classes continue?” I asked.
“Yes, Mama still teaches whomever wants to learn, but there aren’t as many these days. She’ll often invite them out to the house instead and teach them in our sitting room. Our population hasn’t grown terribly much over the last few years, so the need lessened.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. Living in the Rockies isn’t for everyone. There’s more opportunity in Denver or other cities.”
“Do you ever think of leaving Emerson Pass?”
“Not if I can help it,” she said. “Emerson Pass is my home. Everyone I love is here.” She put one last book on the stack. “All right, we’ve got them all. Are you ready?”
I held up a copy of Howards End. “I’ve always wanted to read this one.”
“Superior choice.” She picked up half the stack of books on the desk and put them into a crude wooden box. I’ll make her a nicer one, I thought. Maybe one out of cedar, so the scent seeped into the pages of the books.
I put the other half of the stack in the box and insisted on carrying it out to the sleigh. The horses and sleigh were parked under a wooden awning at the back of the building. We’d covered the horses with heavy blankets. Even so, she’d said it was imperative we move quickly before the horses got too cold.
Oz and Willie looked up as we approached. I set the box in the back and joined Josephine. Seconds later, we were gliding over the snow. If I’d been a lesser man, I might have felt cowed under the competence of the woman by my side. Instead, I swelled with pride at the independence of her, the sheer capabilities she possessed. Running a library. Taking books out to the people of the farms. What a woman she was.
She looked fetching in her fur cap and wool coat. Leather gloves covered her hands. Although she drove straight-backed, she still appeared tiny. Too small to handle these horses. But the gentle creatures obeyed her commands without any troubles.
She looked over at me. “Do I have something on my face? You’re staring.”
Flustered, I turned my gaze to the horses’ chestnut-brown hindquarters. “I’m sorry. I can’t help but admire you.”
Her lips twitched into a smile, but she didn’t say anything. The bells around the horses’ necks rang out merrily as we picked up speed. Sparkles from the sun on the snow danced before my eyes.
“We’ll go out to the Cassidys’ first.”
Soon, we came upon a white farmhouse and red barn. From a brick chimney, a sliver of smoke rose up into the blue sky. “The Cassidys raise cattle and have fallen on hard times since Mr. Cassidy died last year. Mrs. Cassidy suffers from terrible headaches. I went to school back in the early days with Nora, Shannon, and Alma. They’re all younger than me, closer to the twins’ and Cymbeline’s age. Alma’s away at college, studying to become a nurse. She’ll have a job with Dr. Neal when she returns. Shannon and Nora both quit school so as to look after their mother and help on the farm. It’s a pity—stuck out here and missing so much of the fun in town.
“It’s strange to remember how young and carefree we all used to be.” She slowed the horses as we drew nearer to the house.
“Theo seemed better this morning,” I said.
“Yes. As if it never happened. I don’t know what to think, other than we have to keep a close watch on him. Fortunately, there are a lot of us Barneses.” We came to a stop. She bowed her head. “I’m sorry to speak of it again on such a fine day. We should be enjoying the sunshine.”
“Don’t be. You can say whatever you wish to me. I grew to be a good listener at the orphanage.”
She reached over and put one of her hands over mine. “Thank you, Phillip Baker.” Just as quickly, she removed her hand. “Would you like to go in with me?”
“Yes, sure. Sit tight. I’ll help you down.” I got out and sprinted around to her side to assist her. When I had her safely to the ground, she went to the box and chose three books: Anne of the Island, Summer, and O Pioneers! Of them, I’d only read the Willa Cather novel, thanks to Josephine sending it to Walter.
A walkway had been shoveled between the barn and back door of the house. We didn’t have to knock. The door flew open to reveal a young woman with skin the color of milk and black curls piled on top of her head. “Josephine, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you. I’ve been done with all three books you brought last week for two days now.” Round green eyes traveled to me next.
“Shannon, this is Phillip Baker,” Josephine said. “He’s staying with us for the winter.”
The winter? I thought it was only through the holidays. I put that at the back of my mind to think about later.
“Come inside. Mam’s upstairs with one of her headaches, but she’ll be happy to get new books once she feels better.”
We walked into the kitchen. A large white sink and a cooking stove took up most of the room. Josephine put her stack of books on a scratched table with spindly legs, one of which had splintered and looked as if it might fall apart at any moment. They needed a sturdy table in here, one with thick legs and a wide top. The bulk of the housework was most likely done in this room: cooking, washing, canning.
Another girl about the age of Cymbeline appeared next. She had fair hair, lots of freckles and the same big eyes as her sister. “Hi, Josephine.”
She was introduced to me as Nora.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You as well,” Nora said. “Other than Josephine, we don’t often have visitors.”
“We’ve only just finished the dishes,” Shannon said. “Or you would have caught us in the mess.”
Nora handed Josephine a copy of A Little Princess and snatched Anne of the Island from Josephine’s stack and twirled around. “I’m so happy for this one. A Little Princess was very sad, but I loved it.”
“Me too,” Josephine said.
Shannon must have noticed my gaze focused on the table. “This old thing’s about to fall apart.”
“I accidentally knocked the leg with my knee when I got up from the table the other day,” Nora said. “I’m so clumsy sometimes.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shannon said as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “This table’s old. Mam found it out by the abandoned mill when they first came here.”
“I could make you a new one,” I said, surprising myself. “One made of a harder wood. I’m a woodworker.” Those sentences should have been in a different order, leading with my qualifications.
“Are they expensive?” Nora’s forehead wrinkled as she peered at me.
“I could give it to you for the price of the wood,” I said. “The Barnes family’s been so kind to me, it’s the least I could do.”
Josephine smiled at me, and I felt as if I’d just hung the moon. “Papa has some odds and ends lying around. I’m sure we can find the wood at no cost to anyone.”
“Mam talks all the time about getting a new one,” Shannon said. “Maybe we could surprise her with it for Christmas?” She turned to me. “Could you make it by then?”
I caught Josephine’s eye. She nodded, smiling encouragingly. “Phillip?”
We were roughly three weeks before Christmas. It would be tight, but I could do it if I worked steadily. “Yes, I can make one in that amount of time.”
“Are you going to open a furnit
ure shop in town?” Nora asked.
“I’d like to,” I said. “But I’d need customers first.”
“If you made one for us, we’d tell everyone, and maybe you’d get more orders,” Shannon said. “Here in Emerson Pass, we prefer to buy locally. No one wants to give city folks any of our hard-earned money.”
Lord Barnes had said he would front the cost for wood if I paid him back. If I could set aside my pride and take his help, I might be able to start a business of my own. Everyone needed tables, chairs, chests, kitchen cabinets, and dressers. No one here was doing it. Everything had to be brought in on the train. Making them here, I could do them cheaper than having them sent out from the city.
A plan for my life? One that would ensure my worthiness for the likes of Josephine Barnes? For that, I would do anything. Even taking a loan from her father.
That night we had roast beef for dinner, covered in garlic butter sauce. There were also fluffy rolls and roasted carrots and potatoes. I’d never eaten as well in my life. The Barnes family, jollier tonight than the day before, joked and teased throughout much of the dinner. All tension between Jo and Flynn seemed to have dissipated. Other than Quinn, who glanced with the worried eyes of a mother at Theo, everyone seemed in great spirits.
“Fiona, tell them what Viktor did today at the skating pond,” Cymbeline said.
“He had the gall to ask Cym to skate,” Fiona said. “Isn’t that terrible?”
“I don’t skate with my nemesis.” Cymbeline buttered a piece of roll with quick swipes. “He’s everywhere I am. Just to vex me.”
“He doesn’t try to vex you,” Fiona said. “He just does.”
“What did you say when he asked you?” Jo asked.
“I said I didn’t skate with boys,” Cymbeline said. “Except to race him.”
“Then she challenged him to one,” Fiona said. “And ordered the rest of the kids off the ice.”
“Cymbeline,” Quinn said. “You didn’t?”
“No one listened to me,” Cymbeline said. “Viktor refused to race anyway. Too afraid, most likely.”
“You hurt his feelings,” Fiona said. “I think you embarrassed him, too. Any of the other girls would have been only too happy to skate with him.”
“He didn’t seem embarrassed as he skated with every girl there by the end of the day.” Cymbeline scowled. “Not that I care.”
“I have a feeling that this rivalry is one-sided,” Flynn said. “Viktor is taken with our Cymbie.”
“Don’t say it,” Cymbeline said. “Or I’ll be sick.”
“Flynn, he’s three years older than Cym,” Quinn said. “Too old to be taken with her.”
“You’re much younger than Papa,” Fiona said, innocently.
Lord Barnes barked out a laugh. “That’s different. Mama was already grown when I met her.”
“Quite right,” Quinn said. “Not sixteen like Cymbeline.”
“You needn’t worry, Mama,” Cymbeline said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with him.”
“A girl could do worse,” Josephine said. “He’s a stellar young man.”
“I agree,” Quinn said before glancing in my direction. “He was one of my first students, along with the rest of the children in this room.”
“They’ve all grown up so fast.” Lord Barnes took a sip of his wine. “So very fast.”
“Papa, I’m still young,” Fiona said. “Even if I’m no longer the littlest.” She turned toward me. “Before the littles came, I was the youngest.”
“Spoiled rotten,” Cymbeline said.
Fiona nodded solemnly. “I was, too.”
“But sweet just the same,” Theo said. “Kind of like Addie. Whereas our Delphia takes after Cymbeline here.”
“Why does the naughty one have to be equated with me?” Cymbeline asked.
“As if you don’t know,” Flynn said.
“I can remember the first time I set eyes on the lot of you,” Quinn said. “Phillip, on the way here from the train station, I’d fallen out of the sleigh and hit my head.”
“Knocked clean out,” Lord Barnes said. “Harley brought her here and we put her on the couch.”
“When I came to, five sets of eyes were peering at me,” Quinn said. “I thought I’d gone to heaven and been met by angels.”
“Little did she know then that we weren’t exactly angels,” Flynn said.
“That quickly became apparent.” Quinn raised one eyebrow.
“Phillip’s commissioned his first piece of furniture,” Josephine said. “Making a kitchen table for the Cassidys. Papa, he’ll need your help with the wood.”
“We’ll go out to the mill tomorrow and pick up what you need,” Lord Barnes said.
I warmed under my dinner jacket. I’d wanted to ask Lord Barnes about his offer of wood when we were alone. Would he assume I’d taken his help as a given?
“They desperately need one,” Josephine said. “The one they have is about to collapse.”
“How are they doing?” Quinn asked. “I’ve been worried about Moira.”
“She was ill with one of her headaches again today,” Josephine said. “Shannon asked after you, Flynn.”
“How nice?” Flynn asked as he cut into his piece of meat.
“Why’s that a question?” Josephine asked.
I glanced his way. He was giving his sister a saucy grin. “Am I supposed to be excited that sweet little Shannon asked after me?”
“She’s not so little anymore,” Cymbeline said.
“She’s very, very pretty,” Fiona said. “Everyone thinks so.”
“Which you’d know if you ever attended church,” Quinn said.
“Last time I saw her, she was in pigtails,” Flynn said.
“She’s only a year younger than you,” Cymbeline said. “I mean, your real age. Not the one you told the army.”
“She’s sweet, too,” Fiona said. “Which is most important.”
The sisters were all so different: cerebral, reserved Josephine; tough and feisty Cymbeline; kind and compassionate Fiona. Lord Barnes was a lucky man to have these girls as daughters.
“When you were away, Shannon always asked at church if we’d heard from you,” Cymbeline said. “She was genuinely concerned.”
“She said she prayed for you every night.” Fiona turned to Lord Barnes. “I feel terribly sad for them. They adored their papa, just like I do mine.”
“As I do you, sweetheart,” Lord Barnes said.
“They wanted to come to the festival,” Josephine said. “But Moira wasn’t well and they didn’t want to leave her alone. That’s why they haven’t been at church the last few months. The poor girls are missing out on so much.”
“I thought you said I would know what she looked like if I were at church?” Flynn asked Quinn.
Quinn smiled. “Don’t be wicked.”
“Don’t encourage Shannon when it comes to me,” Flynn said to Josephine. “I have no intention of settling down. I certainly don’t want the burden of that farm of theirs.”
“Any girl who’s praying for my son is good in my book,” Quinn said.
“The whole town was praying,” Josephine said. “For Isak, too, of course.”
“There wasn’t a Sunday that Pastor Lind didn’t include you in the group prayer,” Cymbeline said.
“The prayers must’ve worked, because here we are,” Flynn said with more bravado than I expected he felt. Our battle scars were there whether anyone could see them or not.
“There were so many who didn’t return. In towns and cities all across America,” Theo said. “The question is—how do we go on, knowing of all the men we left behind? Buried in unmarked graves.”
Around the table, silence fell. The weight of what we all knew hung in the air. Life for our generation would never be the same. We carried the memories of our fallen brothers like anchors around our necks.
“We can get Phillip set up in the gardener’s shed, can’t we, Papa?” Josephine asked, breaking the silen
ce. “It’s not used much in the winter.”
“Yes, yes. Splendid idea,” Lord Barnes said. “When spring comes and everything thaws out, we can see about getting you set up somewhere in town, but for now the shed will serve you well. Like I said, we’ll go out to the mill in the morning. You can meet Roy Webber. Decent chap. We’ll negotiate prices with him for his finest wood.”
“Fine, thank you, sir. I’m very grateful for your help,” I said.
“Just be careful and keep your wits about you,” Flynn said. “Webber’s a good negotiator. When we bought wood for the lodge, he stood fast to his prices. I poured on the charm and even appealed to his sense of patriotism by mentioning our service in the war. He was unmoved.”
“He has a mill to run. People to pay,” Lord Barnes said. “The man can’t be expected to give you a lower price simply because of who you are or even what you’ve done.”
“Yes, Papa,” Flynn said. “But I have to try for the best deal I can make. You taught me that.”
“True enough,” Lord Barnes said with a smile. “You’ll be a better businessman than your old papa before long.”
“Flynn wasn’t trying to get a better deal for business purposes,” Theo said. “But because he loves to win.”
“Competition’s the American way,” Flynn said. “Anyway, what does my motivation matter? Winning is still good business.”
“Doesn’t everyone love to win?” Cymbeline asked. “What else is there?”
“I don’t care one way or the other,” Fiona said. “I’d rather be loved.”
“Then you’ve won,” Flynn said. “Because we love you.”
Cymbeline rolled her eyes.
“I’d rather be useful, if it comes down to choosing,” Josephine said.
“I suppose I’d choose that one too,” Quinn said. “But I prefer to think of it as love in action. We show our love through service to others.”
“What about you, Phillip?” Cymbeline asked. “What do you choose?”
I met her gaze, then drifted around to all the faces at the table. They peered at me with such kindness that I was moved to answer from the most honest place in my heart. “I’d love to belong. To something. To someone. To be part of a family.” My voice grew husky, so I stopped there before I embarrassed myself.
The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals Book 2) Page 12