4. Cora

4

CORA

C ora drove Sylvester home from their first day at each of their new schools, smiling as she guided the car under trees and past golden fields, even though she was exhausted.

Sylvester was bursting with stories about his second-grade classroom, his teacher, and all of the other students.

"And the lunch is way, way better," he was saying. "We had chicken with mashed potatoes and corn and peas, and tater tots, and a cookie."

"That sounds delicious," Cora told him.

The high school cafeteria had smelled good at lunchtime too, but she had been too busy to eat anything. She was looking forward to the pulled pork she had put in the slow cooker this morning.

"Who's that ?" Sylvester asked suddenly as they pulled into the driveway at last.

She was surprised to see that the man from yesterday was back .

She had spent five minutes in his company, but it was unmistakably him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that brushed his collar, bright blue eyes, and a neat beard.

Today, he wore his cowboy hat again, but the jacket from yesterday was abandoned in her yard, along with an array of tools, a sawn-off piece of fresh lumber, and her old mailbox, dirt-encrusted post and all, which he must have pulled right out of the ground in a real feat of strength, like Paul Bunyan.

The more she looked at him, the more he looked like Paul Bunyan, with that beard and the red flannel that stretched to barely contain his arms as he hammered the new mailbox into place on its new post.

"He's strong," Sylvester pointed out.

"Sure is," she said, clearing her throat and tearing her eyes from the man to park her car.

She had no idea what had gotten into her. Cora had never been exactly boy crazy, and when she fell for Arthur Davies it was because she respected and admired him first, and then noticed his soulful brown eyes.

In all her life, she had never wasted time looking at someone's shirt stretching over their muscles.

Sylvester hopped out of the car with his backpack and scampered back down the long driveway to investigate, leaving Cora no choice but to follow.

"Hello," Sylvester said cheerfully, before she had a chance to say anything herself.

"Hi there," the man said, turning away from his work immediately, and brushing his hands off on his jeans. "I'm Jared Webb. "

She watched in wonder as Sylvester stuck out his own hand.

"Sylvester Davies," he said, shaking Jared's hand. "And that's my mom, Cora."

"Nice to meet you both," Jared said, his blue eyes flashing up to hers.

"Why don't you run in and get started unpacking your school bag," she told Sylvester.

"Okay," he said, looking a little disappointed.

But this man was a loose cannon. She didn't know a thing about him, and she didn't particularly want him hanging around her son.

"See you later, Sly," Jared said, grinning at the boy.

" Sly, " Sylvester repeated, delighted as he ran for the house. " Sly."

He shouldn't be running like that in the cold, but she let it go this time.

"Sylvester is named after his grandfather," Cora told Jared lightly. "We don't use nicknames."

An odd expression flashed across his face for an instant and then it was gone.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said. "The way I acted wasn't neighborly."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out to her.

She took it. The paper was warm and a little crumpled from being in his pocket while he worked.

"You can read that later," he told her. "Anyway, I thought I should do something to make it up to you, and I couldn't help noticing your mailbox was busted yesterday. I meant to put up a new one before you got home and leave that note for you, but the ground's a little rocky here, so it took longer than I expected."

She blinked at him, amazed. She wasn't helpless, but she had never really thought of herself as the handy type. The thought of tackling a job like that on a whim was impressive.

"Anyway, welcome to Trinity Falls," he said. "People here are really nice. You just got unlucky by meeting me first."

She heard herself laughing before she had time to think about it.

His expression of chagrin suddenly melted into a smile of his own and it was impossible not to notice his blue eyes dancing in the shadow of his cowboy hat.

"That fishing hole means a lot to you," she acknowledged. "I understand. But I need to keep my son safe."

"The land is yours," he said, nodding once. His smile had vanished, but his expression was accepting of his defeat.

She knew it cost him to say it, and she felt a pang of sympathy.

"Maybe we can work something out," she said without thinking.

His eyes lit up and again, she felt a pull of kinship between them.

"Maybe you could use a hand around here?" he said. "An older house is a lot to manage. Radcliffe did a good job with these homes, but I know he had most of the trim painted in the wintertime, and I heard that a lot of the new owners are finding out that their windows are sticking, or just painted completely shut. I could start with that, if you wanted?"

"Why don't we take a look at the windows?" she offered.

He smiled and those blue eyes twinkled again.

"Great," he said. "I'll just leave this out here. It's filthy."

He peeled off the flannel and left it on the grass with the rest of his stuff.

She turned her gaze to the house as they headed for it, so as not to be tempted to look at how his tee shirt might be fitting any part of him.

"It's a really neat house," he said. "I always thought it looked like something out of a book."

"It does, doesn't it?" she said, smiling in spite of herself.

Sylvester appeared in the doorway, free of his enormous backpack.

"Hey," he called out excitedly. "My dad had a shirt like that."

She glanced over and saw that Jared was wearing a faded Trinity Falls high school football tee shirt.

"Oh, yeah?" Jared said. "Your dad played football in Trinity Falls?"

"Yes," Sylvester said proudly. "My dad's name was Arthur Davies. Did you know him?"

Cora felt her heart skip a beat. They didn't get to hear new stories about Arthur anymore. And she treasured every single memory of him.

"He was about five years ahead of me in school, I want to say," Jared said, looking disappointed that he didn't have a good story for Sylvester. "So I didn't get to play with him, no. But everyone always said Arthur Davies is a good guy ."

That made Cora smile. People had still said that about him as an adult.

"I'm going to ask my brothers about him, now that I know you," Jared decided. "And if they have any good stories, I'll make sure to come and tell you."

"That sounds great," Sylvester said, his eyes going right to hers.

She smiled at him, feeling a wave of love so strong she couldn't speak.

Arthur might have gone, but he had left her with the most wonderful gift of a son. No matter how lonely she felt at night, Sylvester always brightened her days. And knowing he was right there in his room beside hers helped her sleep on the hardest nights.

"I'm going to have a look at your windows to make sure they're easy to open up," Jared told Sylvester. "Does that sound okay?"

"Sure," Sylvester told him excitedly. "Do you want to see my room?"

"Definitely," Jared said.

Cora found herself smiling again as she followed the two of them up to begin their window inspection in Sylvester's new room.

Afternoon light streamed in, and it was like she was seeing the beautiful woodwork for the first time again.

"All this was done before they even had power tools," Jared told Sylvester, his voice a little soft with wonder as he pointed to the carved posts on the staircase. "Isn't that amazing?"

"Mom said that yesterday," Sylvester said, laughing.

Jared's blue eyes flashed to hers again and she felt her cheeks heat.

She should have allowed the two of them to get further upstairs before she followed. Jared had stopped for an instant and now she was practically in his arms.

She cast her eyes away, but her senses were filled with him. She could practically feel the heat pouring off him and he exuded the familiar masculine scent of clean sweat and the outdoors, with a whisper of something that was all his own.

She paused, letting them get ahead of her, and feeling a little unmoored. She hadn't noticed a man this way since Arthur, but it was only her senses noticing Jared, not her heart. And it was only natural. She was still a young woman. Her nose didn't know he wasn't her husband. It didn't mean anything at all.

"Why are the fish in a hole?" Sylvester asked.

Jared only stared at him for a moment, and then chuckled.

"You mean the fishing hole," he said. "It's not really a hole at all. I never really thought about that before. It's just a really great place to fish, with lots of trees, and a giant rock that sticks out over the water and gets nice and warm in the sun."

"Neat," Sylvester exclaimed as they stepped into his room .

"That's a lot of boxes," Jared said to Sylvester in an impressed way, completely unaware that his mother was still in the stairwell, her stomach twisting in knots.

"Those are all my books," Sylvester told him. "I've read almost all of them."

"You read that many books?" Jared asked.

She had reached the doorway now, and she steeled herself before peeking in on them.

Jared was crouched down, his big body curved around one of the boxes as he perused the titles.

" Gulliver's Travels, " he said. "That one was actually pretty good."

"I didn't know you were a reader," Cora said, unable to help herself.

"Oh, I just had to read some of this stuff back in school," Jared said, immediately straightening and scratching the back of his neck. "I liked that one, though, because cool stuff happened in it."

"It's an adventure story," Sylvester said wisely. "That's why I like it too. Try this one, you'll love it."

Cora tried to hide her smile as her son handed the big man a very worn copy of The Swiss Family Robinson . It was one of his very favorites.

"Really?" Jared asked, looking surprised.

"I've read it three times," Sylvester told him. "It's got everything."

Cora waited for Jared to hand the book back.

Instead, he turned it over and read the short description on the back.

"My brother, Kellan, read this one," he said after a moment. "He liked it a lot. "

"When you bring it back to me, you can tell me if you liked it," Sylvester said, sticking his hands in his pockets as if to subtly tell the man he wouldn't be taking the book back from him.

"Thanks," Jared said. "If it's okay with your mom for me to borrow it, I just might give it a try."

"Of course," Cora said, immediately.

The look of delight on Sylvester's face was priceless. But it left her fearing the big man would let him down.

You'd better actually read it, she found herself wanting to tell him. He doesn't need any more disappointments in his life.

"I'll put my keys with it, so I don't forget to bring it with me," Jared told Sylvester, pulling his keys out of his pocket, and setting the book and keys on the dresser. "Now, let's give your windows a try."

The jangle of the keys had Sylvester reaching into his pockets again, and Cora realized he was just feeling for the football keychain that was always there. He was being braver than he usually was around a new person, and she suspected the thought of his dad was bringing him some comfort.

She watched the two of them approach the first window together, Jared explaining what he was worried about, and how they were going to fix it if they couldn't open the window.

Something slowly warmed and loosened in her chest as she watched them. She did projects with Sylvester, of course. But there was something about the way Jared spoke to him, and the way they were tackling their work that made her think of fathers and sons.

Later that night, she sat alone at the little table in her room, gazing out the window at the tiniest snow flurries drifting down.

Jared had stayed until suppertime, and though she offered for him to have pulled pork sandwiches with them, and Sylvester had jumped up and down with excitement about sharing his favorite meal, he'd insisted he needed to get home.

Sylvester wasn't too disappointed, and he'd told her all about how to fix windows that were painted shut as they ate their dinner.

After they cleaned up, he did his homework at the counter while she spread out her lesson plans on the kitchen table, and holiday music played softly on the radio.

It was peaceful to share the nice, cozy space together. She hoped one of these days they could get the fireplace in the living room going. One thing at a time, though.

Now Sylvester was in bed, and the house was silent.

Cora should be in bed herself, but when she was getting into her pajamas, she had found the note from Jared in her dress pocket, still unread.

She held it in her hands now, wondering if what she was about to read would undo the positive second impression he had managed to make on her tonight.

The kind of man who would swagger up and demand that a new homeowner take down a fence wasn't normally the kind who would apologize, and definitely not in writing .

But he had apologized in person already today.

She slowly unfolded it, and looked down at the surprisingly neat handwriting.

Dear Mrs. Davies,

I'm sorry for showing up at your house and yelling at you.

And I'm even more sorry that I didn't realize you had lost your husband.

I also spoke to you like you weren't in charge of your own property, and I'm sorry for that too.

I hope you don't mind me replacing your mailbox, as a gesture toward making things right. The old one was too broken to be fixed.

I hope our friendship has a better chance of being repaired.

Sincerely,

Your neighbor, Jared Webb

Cora read it twice, smiling to herself the second time at the sweet, simple message of apology. He had managed to address every bad note he'd hit with her yesterday, and he made no excuses.

It was honest and straightforward, just like him, and she could practically hear him reading it out in his deep voice.

She folded the note back up carefully, and before she put it away, she found herself lifting it to her face. No one was there to see it, so she went ahead and touched it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

It smelled like he had, faintly woodsy and somehow familiar, even though they had barely met. It was a crazy notion, but something about it made her feel at home.