The Heart of the Mountains, page 14
Sorrow and beauty mingled together through the strums and the voices, much like life seemed to do on a regular basis. Sorrow and beauty. And attitude and perspective changed, depending on which Cora set her mind on. The difficult and sad, or the beautiful and lovely. Maybe that was exactly what she needed to do in this hard place. Find the beautiful and lovely among the everyday, because it was around her, from the rainbow of trees shrouded in earthen tones, to the endless view of mountains, to the tenderness of family.
Jeb sat nearby, tapping his knee and humming to the tunes. Suzie and John danced in the center of the room, giggling if someone fell to the ground, only to join in again.
What an intimate setting. A family gathered around a fire listening to music together, as if the songs were bedtime stories.
Not long into the music, Maggie joined Sam and Isom by bringing out a long, thin instrument with strings. Cora must have looked curious, because Caroline grinned over at her as she rocked James in her lap and nodded toward the instrument. “That there’s a dulcimer. Sam’s brother made it for Maggie since she’s taken a shine to music, like the rest of the family.”
A dulcimer. The sound was almost harp-like, adding a magical quality to the other instruments. Without preamble, Caroline began singing, a beautiful, soprano tone. Her lone voice filled the room, accompanied by the gentle strumming of the other instruments. She sang about two lovers who parted and longed for each other but were confident in their commitment to each other, only able to rest once they were back together again.
“One, I love.
Two, he loves,
Three, he’s true to me.”
And then, the verse turned to how the couple rested in each other’s arms when together again. So simple, yet lovely. Cora had never heard anything like it, yet the style sounded vaguely familiar. What strange beauty to find in the middle of this small house on the back side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere. But, as she’d learned from the past year of the war, God had a way of placing beauty in the most surprising places. Perhaps it was His way of reminding His children that He was never far away. That good still lived, even when the darkness of war and the agonies of death surrounded all sides.
He still walked among those places with as much care and love and beauty as in the sunlit ones. Like these ballads, both the beauty and the hardship played a part in the grander story of God’s work in hearts and lives. Even now. Even here.
“Take over the playin’, young’uns,” Sam said, placing his fiddle to the side. “And give me a dancin’ tune.”
Isom started off on some quick tune as Sam left his spot by the fire and approached Caroline. With a shuffle forward and a bow, as if he were a nobleman at court, he offered his hand to Caroline. She smiled the broadest Cora had seen in the woman and, after a shake of her head, set James down on the floor and took Sam’s hand. Off they went, dancing about the tiny room with Suzie, James, and John attempting to keep up. Cora couldn’t help but clap along with the beat out of sheer pleasure in the sight, all tenseness gone. Even quiet Maggie giggled in pleasure.
Then Sam, with his bride in hand, danced over to Jeb and spoke to him so low, Cora couldn’t hear.
Jeb shook his head, but Sam spoke again, and Jeb’s entire body stiffened before he stood.
It wasn’t until he’d turned toward her that she began to understand the hushed conversation. All heat slipped from her body and her clapping froze in midair. Jeb McAdams was going to ask her to dance. And what was worse, she’d have to tell him no.
Jeb stared up at his father for a full five seconds, his father’s words slowly bleeding into comprehension. “Go ask Cora to take to the floor with you.”
The last thing Cora likely wanted was a dance with him. And the last thing he needed was another reason to spend more time with her. She already took up too much time in his head, especially when he was trying to work up the courage to ask Mercy Tate to marry him. The whole idea just seemed wrong as wrong could be.
Jeb shook his head.
His father didn’t so much as flinch. He looked to his mama, but she merely smiled in that sweet way which really said, “Listen to your daddy,” though Daddy made the statement again, with a little wink tossed in to inflame Jeb’s face all the more.
He was a grown man, for goodness’ sake. He didn’t need his parents helping him spark a woman who didn’t have no intention of sparkin’ back. And yet, when he looked over at her, sitting in her purple dress, curls slipping loose from her bun and framing her face and those eyes all wide and wondering—well, his feet made up his mind.
He stood. Her eyes grew wider. He took a few steps toward her. Her bottom lip dropped. And then, like his daddy—without the flourish—he offered his hand.
She stared at him, blinking. He swallowed through the gathering lump in his throat, waiting.
“I … I can’t, Jeb,” she whispered.
His shoulders deflated a little. Of course. Why on earth would she want to dance with him, even if it was in the privacy of his parents’ house? He lowered his hand.
“I’m a horrible dancer.” Her words tumbled forward. “My eldest brother attempted to teach me to dance several times and it was absolutely devastating. My feet and my mind don’t seem to speak the same language.”
He released his breath in a chuckle of relief. It didn’t have a thing to do with him. “This dancin’ is likely something different than he was trying to teach you.”
“Certainly.” She looked over at Isom and blinked again. “Much faster. I barely made it through the waltz without squishing his toes to jelly.”
Energy zipped through his whole body. She needed a bit of rescuing from her own worries, didn’t she? Well, he could certainly try to do that. “Miss Taylor, you deserve another chance at learnin’.” He reached down, took her hand, and pulled her up to him. “And I give you permission to squish my toes to jelly all you like.”
She opened her mouth to protest, if he guessed right, but before she uttered a word, he brought her into a turn.
“Now, link hands with Mama,” he nudged.
“What?” Cora turned to his mama who had her hand out and ready. “I take her hand and keep yours?”
He nodded, attempting to keep his grin under control. Her uncertainty, her vulnerability, had him tightening his grip on her hand. “That’s right, and we’ll go round and round for a bit. Nice and easy-like.”
Her brows rose, a few more curls dropping loose from her bun, and she took Mama’s hand. He took Daddy’s, and they circled round, his daddy’s chuckle in time with the music while Suzie danced in the middle of the circle, her happy laughter joining in with the banjo and dulcimer.
“There you go, girl,” Daddy called.
Cora stumbled but Jeb tightened his grip, steadying her.
“Now we step in toward each other,” Jeb said, moving her forward toward his mama and daddy. “And then we go back.” They followed suit, her body slowly beginning to relax into the music.
“Let’s circle about a few more times, Daddy,” Jeb said. “So Cora can find her feet.”
Cora shot him a look of gratitude, stumbling a little less as they circled about, just the four of them. It wasn’t going to be like an actual reel, with just the four, but, maybe he could help her along when she danced again.
They changed directions with the circle and Cora didn’t stumble as much. Jeb felt plumb proud of her.
“Now we’re gonna pair off,” Daddy called, as if announcing to a crowd.
“Pair off?” Cora repeated, breathless.
Mama let go of Cora’s hand and Jeb let go of Daddy’s, drawing Cora closer to him. She searched his face, her flowery scent invading the small space between them so well he nearly lost his train of thought. “I’m gonna spin you round real slow like, so you can know what to do next time.”
He raised their braided hands above her head and guided her into a spin.
She grinned. “I didn’t fall!”
“Not even a little,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand as she wavered a second. “Now, let’s do that turn once more.”
Slowly, he guided her through it and led her, with a little hesitation, toward his daddy, as the partners were supposed to trade. Daddy was in the beginning of his drunk, having a little bit more every night, but the full-on madness of his problem waited only a few days away. Daddy would lose his mind, taken over by the liquor.
Jeb shook his head and returned to the song. Daddy wasn’t there yet. Jeb had grown up with the signs. He knew the difference between the father and the drunk. And his father still held court over the madman.
Daddy carefully turned Cora around twice and then they all gathered hands again for a circle, repeating the dance until Cora returned as Jeb’s partner. Her cheeks bloomed pink and her eyes glistened in the lantern light. Heaven on earth, he was done gone and over the moon.
The circuit happened a few more times before the song came to a close and the four dancers, along with the three little’uns, clapped their gratitude for the musicians who each took a bow, Isom’s the most dramatic.
“See there.” Jeb led her back to her chair. “You danced just fine.”
She relaxed down into the chair with a sigh. “I’d always thought I couldn’t dance, but, well, it seems I just needed the right teacher.”
The way she looked up at him with those big eyes and her sweet smile left him more befuddled than he cared for anyone to know. He shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat, looking back over at his siblings getting ready for another tune. “Maybe just the right kind of dance, I’d reckon.”
“Or a good combination of both,” she added, so softly, he looked back down at her.
The expression on her face paused him for a second too long. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked at him almost as if … Well, he wasn’t quite sure, but the look she gave him hit him square in the chest and left a strange kind of tightness.
No, no, no! He didn’t need to spark on a woman who wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’ in the mountains, no matter what her eyes said. She was an heiress, and though he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what that all entailed, he knew his fairy tales and history well enough to know heiresses didn’t go around sparkin’ mountain men. And spending any more time with her would likely do one of two things, neither good: one, cause these sparkin’ feelings to catch fire; or two, ruin Cora Taylor’s reputation to the point of hurting her. Neither of which he wanted. Well, for sure he didn’t want one of ‘em.
Besides, he was plannin’ on asking Mercy to marry him. He needed to do right by Amos in death, since he couldn’t do right by him in life.
“Jeb, I’d say if you’re gonna make it home, you might wanna get on down the trail.” Mama’s voice pulled him around. “It’ll be dark afore long.”
Jeb nodded and backed away from Cora, headed toward the jacket he’d left by the door. “Sure ‘nough.”
“You can walk Cora on down the mountain too,” Mama added, the little twinkle in her eyes promising trouble of the courtin’ kind. “Ain’t no cause for her walkin’ alone when y’all are goin’ the same way anyhow.”
Jeb tightened his jaw and gave his mama a long stare. He knew good and well she’d heard the rumors as well as anybody else. Why on this side of eternity was she encouraging closeness with Cora Taylor? The woman wasn’t bound to stay in the mountains nohow. It was a fool’s errand. But as soon as the thought came to mind, he frowned. No, ain’t nothin’ foolish ‘bout his mama. Wistful and wanderin’, maybe, but not foolish.
The only one feeling foolish was the man trying to button a jacket he’d buttoned just fine the past five years of his life.
He pushed a hand through his hair and raised his gaze to Cora, who’d stood from her chair. “Do you mind, Jeb? Since we are going the same way?”
“‘Course not.” He shot his mama another look, trying to communicate the danger in her suggestion, but she only grinned wider.
“Isom, why don’t you go on down with Jeb tonight so you can help check his rabbit gums in the mornin’.” Mama’s lips twitched ever so slightly. If he didn’t know she was such a good woman, he’d conjure up words like meddlin’ and busybody in his head. “Then you can head on home after school tomorra.”
“Woohoo!” Isom jumped up from his spot and placed his banjo down. “I get to sleep in the big house tonight!”
A strange mixture of relief and disappointment snaked through Jeb and he stifled a growl. If sparkin’ meant his brain and his heart spoke two different languages, then he was in a heap of trouble.
“Come on, then.” He shot a glance to Isom and jerked his chin toward the door. “We wanna get Miss Taylor on home before it’s too dark.” And in enough light for any mountain spy to see clear enough that Isom was walking in betwixt the two of them.
Cora bid everyone goodbye, receiving a hug from the twins, Suzie, and Mama, a shy smile and wave from Maggie, and a hearty nod from Daddy, before joining Jeb and Isom down the front steps and onto the trail. Jeb kept his distance and Isom easily filled in the space between. Red hues of sunset slipped through the trees, causing what leaves remained to glow like some of the electric lights he’d seen in Europe and on the ship coming home. Except, this glow came naturally, soft and welcome, like a cool breeze on a hot day or a warm house on a cold night.
Isom spent the first bit talking about some fox he’d captured a week back that got away this morning and then he went off on something about Dandy Bruce’s dog having a new litter of puppies.
“You oughta git you a good dog, Miss Taylor.” Isom lowered his chin as if he knew best. “Ain’t no cause for bein’ in the mountain without a good dog.”
Cora sent a grin to Jeb before tempering it when she looked down at Isom. “Well, with all the dogs you know, I would assume you’re an excellent person to know about dogs.”
“I am.” Isom stood a bit taller. “In fact, I can tell you ‘bout any critter in these mountains. I’ve caught nearly all of ‘em.”
“Or nearly been caught by them,” Jeb added, catching another glimpse of Cora’s smile when he spoke.
“Well, I’m glad I know someone to ask about the critters.”
The way she said the word “critters” with her fancy accent nearly unfurled Jeb’s grin all over again, and he had the odd notion to just hug her. Maybe he was going bloomin’ crazy.
“That’s right. Just ask me.” Isom nodded again but then caught sight of something up ahead. “Did you see that up yonder? Looked like a white owl.” And off he ran, conveniently taking away the barrier Jeb hoped to keep between his feelings and the Englishwoman.
They walked in silence for a little while as Isom dashed back and forth ahead of them in the fading sunlight. Trees crouched closer in the shadows. Night noises grew louder and the sound of their footsteps among the freshly fallen leaves kept time with the crickets.
“Your family was very kind to me.”
He looked over at her, but her face remained forward. “They’re a good sort, for the most part.”
Her lips twitched into a crooked grin. “I especially like your mother. She’s someone I’d wish to, I don’t know, learn from.”
“Ain’t many like her, that’s for sure.”
“There’s a gentleness in her that calms those around her.” She released a sigh. “I think you must have gotten that from her.”
He laughed. “You think I’m gentle?” With the fury going on inside his mind most days, gentle wasn’t the word he’d choose to describe himself.
“You don’t think so?” She looked up at him, searching his face. “Perhaps, then, it’s a sense of safety? Or kindness?” Her lips pursed in a frown that wrinkled her brow. “I haven’t sorted it out yet, but it’s a good thing, Mr. McAdams.”
He shook his head and stared heavenward, breathing in the scent of earth and leaves and evening air. “It ain’t easy to keep folks safe.”
An owl’s call permeated the quiet between them.
“Jeb, it’s impossible to keep everyone safe, especially in a war.”
He shot her a look. He hadn’t mentioned Amos to her, but the understanding in her eyes told him she knew. Understood without him having to explain.
“The world isn’t safe, no matter where you are or what’s happening.” Her voice softened. “I lost a good friend, another nurse. She took my shift since I’d worked a double the night before. For a while I blamed myself. It should have been me.”
“That ain’t so,” came his quick response.
Her fingers played with the scarf at her neck. “True. Life and death are in the hands of the Almighty.” Her gaze met his. “But sometimes our hearts are much too broken to recognize the truth in our heads.”
He held her gaze, allowing her words to sink into his aching spirit. “Then what do we do?”
He knew the answer but wanted to hear her say it. Confirm it. Remind him. And herself.
“I was thinking about it while I listened to your family play that wonderful music. Trust. That’s what we do.” Her heart strengthened at the voiced declaration. “We trust that God’s love for us and the people we’ve lost is even bigger than ours for them. And so, whatever He’s chosen for their lives is a much better plan than one we can imagine.”
Her words voiced the truth with much more eloquence than his mind. “Preacher says the world is a broken place, and broken folks leave more broken people behind.”
“Which should cause us to long for heaven, but I’m afraid my first reaction is anger.” She released a sad chuckle. “I want to mend the world, but it’s impossible to navigate all the many things only God can.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m bound to try.”
His smile grew from one corner to the next. “I bet you are.”
Her gaze lingered in his, all golden and beautiful, until her smile fell and his breath stalled. Then she stumbled over a limb on the trail. He caught her, drawing her against him, and every ounce of her scent and softness crashed against his good intentions. Her body melted into him. His arms naturally caged her in, and that tiny spark took up such a flicker he felt it shooting up through his whole body, and then … He realized what was happening and jerked back, nearly sending her sprawling to the forest floor.
