The Journey of Josephine Cain Read Online Free PDF Page B

an artist, I feel a responsibility to capture historical moments for all time.”
That I was working backstage as a stagehand need not be mentioned
.
    “But such a horrible moment—”
    “Must be remembered. The turning points of a nation—good and bad—must not be forgotten.”
    When no one spoke, he wondered if he’d been too bold. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t—”
    “No,” Miss Cain interrupted. “You are right.”
    “But on to happier thoughts,” the general said. “When I was at the newspaper office, the editor there, Mr. Wilson, offered me two extra tickets to the opera.
The Marriage of Figaro
is playing. Your favorite, Josephine.”
    Lewis saw her blush, and with another glance at her father, he knew that now was the time to do what he was expected to do. “Your father has been kind enough . . . I would be very honored if you would accompany me, Miss Cain.”
    Mrs. Cain interceded. “I hardly think the opera is appropriate while we are in mourning.”
    “Most inappropriate,” the aunt said.
    “And you two most certainly cannot go unaccompanied,” Mrs. Cain continued.
    Lewis wasn’t pleased that the general had created this faux pas. “Of course. Forgive me for bringing up such a frivolous subject.”
    “Opera is not frivolous at all,” the general said. “Such magnificence of sound from voice and orchestra is heaven-sent.” He looked at his wife. “And they will not be without chaperone, my dear. Mr. Wilson’s brother and his wife have offered to meet them there. You remember Robert and Edith Wilson?”
    The girl flashed her mother a pleading look, but Mrs. Cain shook her head vehemently. “No, Josephine. You may not attend.”
    “But our year of full mourning is over.”
    The older woman’s chin hardened. “Our mourning is never over.”
    “Of course not, Lizzie,” the general said. “But I see nothing wrong with Josephine going to the opera.”
    “Thomas always loved the opera,” Miss Cain said.
    At the mention of this memory, tears formed in Mrs. Cain’s eyes. Her daughter pushed back from the table and rushed to her side, kneeling before her.
    “I am sorry, Mother. I shouldn’t have said that and reminded you . . .”
    Mrs. Cain retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. But then she nodded, and even smiled. “Thomas adored
The Marriage of Figaro
.”
    Miss Cain nodded and touched her arm. “He especially loved the duet ‘
Che soave zeffiretto
.’”
    “He said it sounded like two angels singing.”
    Miss Cain leaned her head against her mother’s arm. “I remember sitting beside him at the opera and watching him as he listened to the duet. His eyes were always closed, his face tilted upward as if sensing that the majesty of the music came from God.”
    Lewis looked to the general, wishing for help to make things right.
    But then, Mrs. Cain touched her daughter’s cheek. “You may go to the opera, Josephine. Remember Thomas through the music.”
    “I remember him with every breath I take.”
    In that moment, Lewis could imagine how Mrs. Cain used to be before grieving had become her occupation. But then she looked away,and the mask of mourning dropped into place. “Well then,” she said, looking out over the table.
    Miss Cain stood, but before she returned to her place, she kissed her mother’s cheek.
    “Very good,” the general said. “To the opera you shall go.”
    Lewis was delighted.
    And petrified. Although the tickets were complimentary, there would be other expenses. A carriage, and perhaps dinner after the opera . . .
    It would require money he didn’t have.
    But money he could get. He had his ways.

    “Thank you for the delicious meal, Mrs. Cain,” Lewis said as he gathered his hat.
    “Of course, Mr. Simmons. You are welcome in our home anytime.”
    She offered him a shy smile, which surprised him. Obviously dropping his fork on the carpet hadn’t offended her too badly.
    Lewis nodded to Miss Cain. “Shall I fetch—come for