by Karen M Cox
I Could Write a Book
Karen M Cox
Copyright © 2017 by Karen M Cox
Adalia Street Press
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
978-0-9991000-1-1
978-0-9991000-2-8
For my daughter, my own “darling Emma”
—and for all the Emmas of the world: young women who blaze new paths, own their mistakes, do what needs doing, and love fiercely.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Epilogue
Questions for Book Clubs, Happy Hours, or Spirited Discussions
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Although the author’s name is the one you see on the cover, there are many people who lend a hand in making a book a reality. It took me four years to write I Could Write a Book, and for a while I wondered if maybe I couldn’t write this one! It’s because of the people listed below that this book sits before you now.
First, I send truckloads of thanks to my editor, Christina Boyd of Quill, Ink, for her expertise and guidance, her insistence on always putting the reader first, and her gift for being a tireless cheerleader of insecure authors. Above and beyond seems to be her standard operating procedure, and this book is way better than it was before she saw it.
Claudine DiMuzio, the blog mistress of JustJane1813.com, was an amazing supporter of this project from the moment she learned of it. She organized reviews and blog tour stops, read advanced review copy and gave input, answered questions, and came up with ideas to let readers know that, as unusual as an Emma adaptation might be, it’s a trip worth taking.
Shari J. Ryan of Madhat Books designed a beautiful book cover that reflects the story perfectly. Her patience and artistry gave I Could Write a Book a wide appeal out there in book world, and I’m grateful for her help.
I’d also like to thank my proofreaders, Janet Foster and Betty Jo Moss, for lending those extra pairs of eyes that help catch the oopsies. In addition, Karen Adams, Terry Jakober, and Jane Vivash read and gave input on this manuscript in its formative years, back when it went by the unimaginative name “Emmaesque.” Thank you, ladies!
My family shows great patience with a wife/Mom/Nonna who’s maybe just a little different from the other wives/moms/nonnas! I’m so grateful that they support me—writing on top of a full-time job means that they sometimes have to wait for my attention, although they always have the greatest share of my love.
Finally, I must thank Jane Austen, the genius, and her legions of readers, in whom she lives on into eternity.
Praise For The Novels of Karen M Cox:
1932
“…a truly fresh take on this timeless tale.” Bustle.com
“Cox stays true to the spirit of all the characters and weaves them into her own original story…” Goodreads review
Bronze Medal for Romance: Independent Publisher Book Awards, 2011
Find Wonder in all Things
“Karen M Cox has another winner on her hands.” Leatherbound Reviews
“…stands on its own and no wonder at all, why it was awarded the Gold Medal in the Romance category at the 2012 Independent Publisher Book Awards.” Austenprose
Finalist: 2013 Next Generation Indie Book Awards in Romance category
Undeceived
2016 Favorite JAFF Alternate Era Story: Just Jane 1813
Best of 2016 lists: Margie's Must Reads, Babblings of a Bookworm
"... an incredibly unique and riveting tale..." Austenesque Reviews
"...ranks on my list of all-time favorite Pride and Prejudice retellings. This novel will definitely make my Best of 2016 list!" Diary of An Eccentric
The Journey Home
“…a beautifully written story about second chances…” Just Jane 1813
Prologue
July 4, 1954
Highbury, Kentucky
Barbara Taylor Woodhouse had occupied a place in George Knightley’s life for as long as he could remember. In 1947, the year George was born, Barbara married John Woodhouse, his father’s law partner. Mr. Woodhouse was the man for whom the second Knightley son, George’s little brother, was named, and the two families were close friends. George’s early memories of Barbara were of a beautiful, young woman with a classic Grace Kelly-look that exuded refinement and elegance, one who turned heads wherever she went. His mother often commented that Barbara Woodhouse was as “sharp as a tack,” and if she had been willing and able to attend law school, she would have made a brilliant attorney. Instead, Mrs. Woodhouse assumed the Junior League, mistress of the estate role, spearheaded charity events, and lavishly entertained her husband’s clients and associates. Although she was always busy, she was also a devoted mother to her girls, Isabel and Emma, after they came along.
George was seven years old when Emma was born, so he remembered the event well. His parents had dragged him over to the house on Hartfield Road to see her, and as he peered over the side of the crib at the sleeping baby, Mrs. Woodhouse put her hand on his shoulder, and the charm bracelet she always wore clunked against his arm. Looking pensive, she murmured in that musical alto of hers, “Isn’t she just perfect, George?” He looked up at her, not sure what the correct answer was, but relatively certain it would not do to speak his real opinion on the matter. Baby Emma was red and wrinkly, and he thought even less of her when she let out a terrific squall in response to him touching her bald, little head. Barbara’s joyful smile never wavered.
Even at age seven, George knew Baby Emma would never be as beloved in anyone’s eyes as she was in her parents’.
1969-1973
“Nobody, who has not been in the interior of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be.”
—Jane Austen, Emma, Volume 1, Chapter 18
One
July 20, 1969
Hartfield Road, Highbury, Kentucky
I sat on the overstuffed sofa in my father’s grand living room, staring without seeing at the television set. Daddy’s business associates, their wives, and families were all outdoors, gathered poolside. Intermittently, shouts pealed through the air, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the laughin
g and splashing of children, the rise and fall of conversations. But I, Emma Katherine Woodhouse, inhabited a different world, a world outside theirs.
To put it simply, I was in a foul mood.
Part of my melancholy stemmed from missing my aunt Nina, who had taken a much-deserved vacation to Florida for a couple of weeks. Caring for a teenaged niece all year long was a tall order, and I knew it was good for Nina to get away with her friends every once in a while. But why did Nina have to choose this particular week to go? Did she not remember what today was? Did she not want to remember?
The gray surface of the moon rolled across the TV set from top to bottom, almost too fast to see any of the craggy, pitted features covering the Earth’s closest neighbor in space.
Funny how the moon looks so much prettier in the night sky, I thought with a stab of cynical irritation. But that’s always the way, isn’t it? Things look nicer from far away; it’s only when you’re up close and personal that life gets ugly.
My friend Carol Ann slid the glass door open and stepped inside, hair wet and tousled, a towel wrapped around her spindly frame.
“Hey girl. Whatcha doing in here? The party’s outside.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t been swimming at all today. What’s the matter?”
“Don’t feel like it, I suppose.”
Carol Ann walked over and put her hand on my shoulder, dropping her voice to a confidential whisper. “Have you got your period this week?”
I looked up at her, startled, and then burst out laughing. “No, you silly goose. And that wouldn’t matter anyway. I’ve been using Tampax since I was thirteen. You can swim if you use those.”
Carol Ann’s eyes widened. “You can?”
“Yup.”
“You’re so lucky you have your aunt to tell you these things. My mom’s so old-fashioned, but Nina’s modern and cool.”
“Yup.” I was a bit annoyed with Nina at the moment and didn’t want to hear how great she was, although deep down inside I knew my aunt was about the best a girl could ask for.
Carol Ann plunked down on the gold, shag carpet beside my feet so she wouldn’t get the sofa wet. “The Holloman twins are asking for you.”
Rolling my eyes in contempt, I shot back, “Umm…no thank you.”
“They are annoying, aren’t they? All high school boys are annoying. They’re only good for one thing.”
Surely, she didn’t mean…
“You know, going to school dances.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, for Carol Ann’s sake. I didn’t think my friend was one of those fast and loose girls, but then again, who ever really knew about people? Sometimes, they weren’t what they seemed to be.
“If I date, I wanna date a man—not a boy.”
“Carol Ann, you are fifteen years old. You don’t want to date some old man. Besides, any kind of gentleman worth his salt wouldn’t date a fifteen-year-old anyway.”
“True. I guess I’ll just have to wait for him then.”
“Wait for who?”
“George Knightley.”
“George Knightley?” I scoffed. “What would you want him for? All he cares about is racquetball, and tennis, and politics, and books written by dead guys.”
Carol Ann leaned back against the front of the sofa and let out a sickening little coo. “He’s just so handsome—and worldly. And he just graduated from Berkeley. And he’s so kind to me.”
“Don’t read too much into that. He’s kind to you because he’s a true gentleman—who is, by definition, a man who is kind to everyone.”
I was used to my friends mooning over George; all of them seemed to have had a crush on him at some point. I couldn’t really blame them for it. After all, I’d had a crush on him too before he went away to California four years ago. But it was nigh impossible to keep a steady infatuation going when I only saw the object of my affection at Thanksgiving and summer breaks. At least it was impossible for me. Carol Ann seemed to have no problem with it.
“That smile.” Carol Ann shivered with pleasure, and I laughed at her. “Those blue eyes and that wavy brown hair. He’s tall but not too tall. Athletic but not muscle-bound. Friendly but not obnoxious. He’s ju-u-ust right.”
As if we had summoned him with our conversation, George appeared at the sliding glass door. He opened it a few inches and knocked on the door frame.
“Come in,” I called out, after narrowing my eyes and shushing my friend.
“Hello, ladies.” Even his voice was smooth, with just a hint of bite, like the bourbon sauce Mrs. Davies served on bread pudding. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all!” Carol Ann’s expression glowed as she leapt to her feet to greet him. “We were only chatting. You know, girl stuff.” An uncontrolled giggle escaped her, and she put her hand over her mouth to staunch it.
George smiled, an indulgent grin that snuck around the corners of his mouth whenever he thought my friends and I were being silly.
In this case, though, he’s right. At least about Carol Ann.
He shut the door behind him. “I was just coming in to get another iced tea. Hey, you’re watching the moon landing. I wondered if they were about to touch down.”
I stared at the TV set without replying. Carol Ann stared at George with a nervous smile.
He tried again. “I didn’t know you were interested in space exploration, Emma.”
“I’m not. It’s the only thing on all three channels.”
“Oh.” A pause ensued, then an amused chuckle. “Ah, of course. No clothing shops on the moon.”
I knew he was teasing. We often teased each other, almost the way siblings do, but today I wasn’t in the mood for it.
After a closer look at me, he commented again. “You seem out of sorts today. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” All of a sudden, I felt like crying, and Emma Katherine Woodhouse never cried, never—and certainly not in front of houseguests. I stood and moved to leave the room. “If everyone’s coming in here to watch the TV, I’m going to go fix a snack.”
George looked in bewilderment at Carol Ann, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw my friend shrug her shoulders. The glass door slid open and party guests swarmed the television the way they had gathered around the pool earlier.
From my perch on the kitchen stool in the other room, I heard awed voices and celebratory clapping as the lunar lander drew closer to the Sea of Tranquility. The swinging door between living room and kitchen opened, and George crossed the kitchen to get his drink.
“Come out and watch the moon landing,” he said as he poured tea from the pitcher into his glass. Ice cubes clunked, almost throwing tea out and onto the counter. “I know you’re not too interested in it right now, but years down the road, you’ll be glad you saw such an historic event, even if it is just in hazy black and white on a TV set.”
“You’re probably right, as usual.”
“And, your father would not want you to be rude to his guests.”
“No lectures today, if you please, Professor Knightley. I promise I’ll go back in now and behave like a good girl.” My stool scraped the floor.
He put a hand on my arm to stop me. “Hey, something’s really bothering you, isn’t it? This moping around isn’t like our cheerful, lively Emma at all.”
I sighed in exasperation and blinked back tears. “Today is my mother’s birthday, and it’s like everyone just forgot about her.”
“Ah, I see.”
Carol Ann had just slipped into the kitchen, so she heard the last part of my confession.
George’s eyes quietly conveyed his empathy. “Is there anything I can do?”
A sudden idea seized me and my head shot up to ask if he might...
“I want to go to Hillcrest. Will you drive me?”
His brows knit together in a perplexed-looking frown, causing me to wonder what he was thinking. It was atypical for George Knightley to be unsure of himself.
“P
lease?” A tiny hint of a whine crept into my voice. “Nina would take me if she were here. Or Isabel would take me if she weren’t away in Italy this summer. But I can’t ask Daddy to leave his party.” I hung my head. “I almost think he scheduled it today on purpose so he wouldn’t have to think about Mama.” Playing for sympathy usually didn’t work with George but today it might.
After a long, considering silence, George replied. “Sure, I’ll take you to Hillcrest, Emma Kate.” He turned to Carol Ann with a charming smile—“Maybe your friend would like to accompany you?”
Carol Ann grimaced slightly, and I remembered that my friend really hated going to Hillcrest. But suddenly, when George asked, Carol Ann nodded and seemed to think the trip was a fine idea.
“Oh yes! I’d be happy to go with you.”