Channeling Cordia
“What in the world is that?” Nita inquired as she opened the front door, a large smile on her face.
Hope didn’t tarry. “Just a gift from a student.” She brushed past and headed right up the stairs, leaving Nita to inquire of her son what had taken place. Nicholas could tell her whatever he liked, but Hope needed to be out of their presence for a while. She hoped Doc wouldn’t stay for dinner. Something told her this was the last time he’d give her a ride home.
In her room, she set the hatbox on a shelf in the tiny closet and then took a seat on the edge of the bed. She could hear Doc and Nita were talking, though she had no idea what they were saying. Neither of them sounded particularly happy. Hope ran her hands up her face and then smoothed her hair back. It was days like this when she wished her mother was close by.
After the barn raising, Hope had been tempted to write her mother a letter and tell her everything about Judah—including spying him at the pump and how she’d actually kissed him before she ran away at the dance. It all sounded so ridiculous, though, and Hope couldn’t believe she’d done either of those things, let alone putting it down on paper where anyone might discover it. She couldn’t believe Judah had even spoken to her again after that last one, but he’d gone to so much trouble to get her everything she needed for the school, and he said he wasn’t done yet, though she couldn’t imagine he could do anything further. It wasn’t as if he could actually build the railroad she’d pined for. He wouldn’t be able to start construction on her little cabin either. There was no way Mr. Stewart would allow him to do that, and if he tried to build it without permission, it would be taken down. So... she was certain his gifts were done with now. But they had been enough—more than enough.
Hope could only assume he’d gone to so much trouble because of his niece and nephew. He’d mentioned only staying around these parts because of them, so it would make sense that he’d want them to have playground equipment if that’s what their teacher said they needed, and of course he’d realize how important the slates were. She could dismiss most of his gifts that way—but not the hat. Why in the world had he gotten her the ridiculous Parisian hat she’d joked about?
She hadn’t even tried it on now that she’d be able to see herself in a mirror. She’d been in such a hurry to hide it the thought hadn’t occurred to her. But now that the voices downstairs had faded some, she went over and pulled the box back down and brought it over to her dresser. Carefully, she removed the hat, laughing quietly about how beautiful and completely ridiculous it was. She put it on and had a look at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she pretended she was a fancy French woman without a care in the world. It would be lovely to think of herself living in Paris, her husband a famous architect. They’d have several children, and she’d have a nanny to help and to clean up after them while she read them books and taught them how to sing. It would be a lovely, carefree life, and her husband would be so fond of her, he’d bring her a new hat with a different colored feather every Friday afternoon, along with a dozen long stemmed roses.
“You have lost your mind,” Hope muttered, taking the hat off and putting it back in the box. She thought of poor Celia waiting for her man to arrive back from the Mexican War and wondered if she might end up like that, walking around town muttering about how someday her outlaw betrothed would claim her hand. Shaking her head, she put the hatbox back in the closet and quietly shut the door, listening for any noise from Mrs. Howard’s room. She heard nothing and thought perhaps she’d managed to move around her room without disturbing the other woman, though there had been instances in the past when the woman would seem to be asleep only to shout at her in an angry voice out of nowhere.
Hope sat back down on the bed, not sure what to do next. She should probably return the hat. Why in the world...? But then, she couldn’t do that without speaking to Judah, and she would have to borrow a horse or cart just to travel all the way out to his house. Ginny and George hadn’t seemed to know anything about the gifts being from their uncle, so it wasn’t as if she could tell Ginny she wished to speak to him. And Caroline may or may not know. No, she should keep it. She wanted to keep it. If she had nothing else from him, at least she could always save that hat and remember the misunderstood soul who was so charming she’d lost herself completely in his eyes one night beneath a silvery moon.
But she didn’t want to have a fond memory of Judah Lawless in the form of a hat. She wanted him—and every day that passed by, she knew it would always be that way. What if Nicholas did change the contract, and then she’d be free to be seen in public with Judah? Then, maybe if he spent enough time with her, she’d be able to convince him that whatever had happened in his past couldn’t possibly happen again.
The fact that she had no idea what had happened to Sylvia and his other wife didn’t seem to make any difference to her, even though logically she told herself it should. What if he really had killed them? She didn’t think that was possible, but she wanted to hear the story from his own lips.
Thinking of his lips was dangerous. She dropped backward onto her pillow, remembering what those lips had felt like when she’d pressed hers to them. How many times had she dreamt of them since that night, over two months ago?
Hope was in a heap of trouble, and she knew it. Part of her thought it might be best to leave and go back to Missouri before she dug herself in too deep. But she realized it was already too late for that. And Judah’s gifts just made it worse. Something told her the situation was bound to get far more troublesome before it got better, if it ever did, and she had no idea how she could possibly get through it without a single friend or family member to lend a shoulder to cry on. And now she’d lost one of the few friends she’d made in Nicholas.
Closing her eyes, Hope thought about what her mama would do in this situation, and she realized she could never do what her mother would do. Cordia would’ve demanded the truth from Judah and then made him see he had nothing to worry about, that they’d be happy together. Hope had a lot of her mother in her, but not enough for any of that. She took a deep breath and decided the only action she could take was to continue doing what she had been doing—nothing. As long as she could keep avoiding him, she couldn’t dig herself in any deeper, and while it hadn’t been easy, it had to be better than trying to force something that could never be.
She’d decided on that course of action and started to drift off to sleep when it occurred to her that if this could never be, then why in the world did she have a Parisian hat in her closet?
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