A Blue Mountain Memory

II

Cora's elbows rested on the table, and she watched her feet swing, sweeping across the wide, cracked boarded floor. But it was not the wood beneath her tattered stockings that occupied her mind. Instead, it was the intense stare Elwood had held upon the buck. It was the bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his stubbled cheek and the spot of dirt that sat just above his left dimple. Cora did not understand how or why these images forced their way into her consciousness. What she did know was that these pictures caused a turn in her stomach.

Cora began thinking of Elwood intimately. Her vision blurred out of focus as she pictured his large hands gently caressing her own. The knot in Cora's stomach tangled further and her cheeks felt warm as she imagined lying next to Elwood in her small bed up in the loft. She could not help but think of how it would feel for his strong arms to form a cocoon around her, warming and protecting her body. Cora's throat dried and her gut seized with curiosity and a strange sense of wanting. 

"Honey, hand me that spoon," her mother, Lorna, requested as her eyes kept focus on the stovetop. 

When Cora failed to respond, Lorna turned around impatiently. 

"Cora," Lorna called again; yet Cora remained distracted by a single spot on the floor. 

Lorna's patience wore thin as it had continually done so in the past few years. Cora's behavior was not completely different from that of Lorna's at the same age; yet a small part of the mother did worry that her daughter's behavior would prove to be just strange enough to one day discourage potential suitors. 

"Cora, one day when you're old enough you'll have to find a nice young man to take care of you for the rest of your life," Lorna explained several weeks before.

"Why can't I just stay with you and Papa?" asked Cora as she arranged her rock collection by color.

"Because one day, your Papa and I won't be able to take care of you! We'll be too old and stinky to care for anyone but ourselves." 

Cora giggled, but tilted her head and rebutted, "well then, maybe I should stay here forever and just take care of you when you're old and stinky. It only seems fair." 

Lorna, though humored by her daughter's wit, felt a twinge of anxiety. She worried that perhaps Cora would never settle for an appropriate and realistic match. The girl's head remained high above the clouds, while her mother's stood firmly grounded, understanding that poor girls had to marry poor men so they could raise poor children. It was a reality that Lorna herself once had to bitterly swallow. 

Lorna smelled her stew beginning to burn behind her.

"Cora Elizabeth Davis, listen to your mother and pass me that damned spoon!" Lorna snapped, whipping her hand towel towards the girl. 

Cora's head shot up as she quickly reached for the spoon.

"Sorry Mama," Cora muttered.

"It's- it's alright darling, just listen when I ask you to do something, okay?" Lorna paused, waiting for her daughter's response. 

Instead, the young girl sat back down in her chair silently.

"Everything alright, Cora?"

Cora flashed a half smile, lazily nodding her head. Lorna once again remembered the stew cooking behind her and decided not to inquire any further. She figured the business of a thirteen-year-old girl should remain so– out of the mind of her worried mother. 

The front doorknob jiggled and suddenly Baxter and Lee dragged their tired bodies through the threshold. Cora jumped up from her seat and ran into Baxter's arms. Every day she looked forward to leaping into her father's arms. She would shove her face against his neck, deeply inhaling his scent. She found that he always smelled like clean linen and cold dirt. To her older brother Lee, a simple nod of acknowledgment sufficed.