The Journey of Josephine Cain Read Online Free PDF Page A

occasional
tock-tick
.
    Aunt’s snorting snore interrupted the incessant reminder that time was passing. Josephine’s youth was passing; her life was passing.
    Mother seemed unaware as she read a book, her chin occasionally bobbing against her chest.
    Was this
it
? Was this all there was? Spending day after day in a luxurious parlor that had been decorated for gaiety and society? It wasn’t fair that Josephine’s coming-out years had paralleled those of the war. What should have been the sunniest years of her life had been rained on with worry, and then drowned with mourning. Those years had slipped away, never to be recovered. The bloom of her youth had been left untended and was shriveling before her eyes.
    This parlor, which should have held musical soirees, parties, and flirtatious conversation, had instead been used as a place for women to roll bandages and listen to abolitionist lectures.
    And now that the war was ended? The country was trying to rebuild.
    The
rest
of the country. The Cain residence had its foundation fully mired in the past. There would be no rebuilding here. That Josephine was barely twenty . . .
    She glanced at the clock and saw it was past six. Papa should be home by now. Although he’d remained firm in his decision to bar her from traveling west with him, she was not about to surrender. He’d always—always—given in to her wishes before. That this particular request was more substantial than her previous desires (which admittedly hadtended toward the frivolous) only meant that persistence was needed. Father
would
cave. Family history said so.
    When she heard his voice outside and his footsteps upon the stoop, she rushed to greet him.
    Dowd opened the door to Papa—and another man. He was shorter than Papa, with dark eyes. After removing his hat, he ran a hand through longish black hair, making it bow to his will.
    Josephine kissed Papa’s cheek, then turned toward the man. “You’ve brought home a guest?”
    “Indeed I have.” He motioned the man forward. “Josephine, I would like you to meet Mr. Lewis Simmons. Mr. Simmons, this is my dear daughter, Miss Josephine Cain.”
    He offered her a neat bow, and she nodded.
    “So nice to meet you, Miss Cain,” he said, putting his gloves into his hat and handing them to Dowd. “Your father has spoken of your beauty and gracious nature.”
    “Oh, has he now?” she asked, giving Papa a look. For they both knew that “gracious” was not one of her attributes.
    Papa ignored her and instructed Dowd to have another place set for dinner. By now, Mother and Aunt had awakened and joined them in the foyer. Josephine let the introductions recede into the background. Her eyes were glued on Lewis Simmons.
    My, he was a handsome man. Perfect actually, with just the right length of nose, and square of chin. The only flaw seemed to be the hint of danger in the way he handled the moment, as if he had a winning hand but wasn’t about to show it. Yet.
    But perhaps that wasn’t a flaw at all.
    As Papa took Mother’s arm and led her in to dinner, Mr. Simmons offered his arm to Josephine. “Shall we, Miss Cain?”

    Please help me say the right thing
.
    Lewis Simmons took a seat at the table next to Josephine Cain. He saw the tablecloth move above his lap, and realized it was his very ownleg causing the movement. He slipped a hand atop his thigh and pressed it into submission.
    He was so nervous he wasn’t sure if he could eat. An unexpected dinner invitation from General Reginald Cain, when Lewis had just promised himself that he
had
to meet the general’s daughter . . . He wasn’t used to having things go his way.
    He’d been watching Miss Cain for months—not that she went out much. He’d wanted to meet her but wasn’t sure how to scale the tall wall of mourning that surrounded the Cain household. He’d heard from the Cains’ coachman that the general was coming home for a visit, so he’d planned on finding a reason to call. But today when