I helped her into her coat first. She put a fur-lined cap over her head while I put on the jacket. “A good fit,” I said.
“Yes, you’re almost exactly the height of my brothers. Check the pocket. There’s probably a hat and gloves in there.”
I reached into both pockets. Sure enough, there was a knit hat and a pair of gloves inside. After I’d donned both, I asked if she was ready.
“Yes, we should go before it gets completely dark.”
We walked out to the covered entrance. If she didn’t think this was dark, how dark did it get here? She pointed toward the lit barn, then turned a switch on near the door. The lanterns that lined the drive came on, dazzling me with their bright lights. “So pretty,” I said under my breath.
“Aren’t they? Papa had them put in just last year. They’re especially festive this time of year.”
We headed out to a shoveled walkway that led to the barn. I let her take the lead.
“Our family loves animals,” Josephine said. “Don’t be surprised if they ask at dinner about what you thought of our horses.”
“What should I say?” I concentrated on not slipping on the icy path.
“Something about how they’re the most beautiful horses you’ve ever seen. That’s what they think, anyway.”
“Then I shall say it for certain.”
She laughed, and her breath made a cloud in the cold air as she yanked open a side door and motioned for me to go in first.
The space was large and tall with stalls for a cow, a pig, and several horses. Chickens lay on nests. A rooster eyed us suspiciously.
“That’s Doodle,” Josephine said. “He’s mean, so keep an eye out for him.”
She pointed to a hayloft. “I used to go up there to be by myself when I was younger. I love my brothers and sisters, but sometimes I needed a little peace and a place to read.”
“That sounds nice. I’d have liked a place like that at the orphanage.” I’d never had any time alone there. We’d slept in small beds all lined up in a row and ate all meals together. “The only place I could escape to was the pages of a book.”
We locked eyes for a split second.
“I understand perfectly.” She took two apples from a bucket near the door. “Would you like to feed one of the horses an apple?”
“Sure.” I’d have liked to say no. Horses scared me a little with their large teeth.
We walked over to the stalls. The horses both whinnied at the sight of Josephine. “These two girls are Lucy and Pearl. They’re a little older than the other two, so we use them for the small sleigh.” She pointed to the other pair. “These two are only three years old.” She held the apple up to one of the horses. “This one is Willie. And that’s Oz.”
I held out the apple in front of Oz. “Will he just take it?”
“Bring it closer.”
I did so and flinched as Oz sucked it from my hand.
“You haven’t been around horses much, have you?”
“No, not really,” I said.
“These two are gentle. They won’t hurt you.”
She took my hand and put it on Oz’s nose. “Stroke him with your thumb. He loves that.”
I would have preferred to stroke Josephine’s nose, but I did as she asked. Oz flicked his tail.
“He likes you,” Josephine said.
“How can you tell?”
“He’s smiling. See.” She pointed at his mouth, which looked exactly as it had when we first walked up to him.
“Did Walter really read you all parts of my letters?” Josephine asked.
“We loved the stories of your family’s antics. Everything is exactly how I pictured it from your descriptions.”
“Perhaps my family is more entertaining on paper than the real thing.”
“I found them entertaining just now.”
“Wait until you meet Cymbeline. Was it really my letters that made you want to come here?” Josephine asked.
“Yes. I wanted to get out of the city. As your father said—there are too many people. When I was so sick, I told myself if I survived, I’d come out here to see it all for myself.” And you. I kept that to myself.
“I hope you won’t find the town too quiet.” Josephine leaned against the stall.
“I don’t think I will,” I said. “I’ve a confession to make.”
“Yes?”
“I read through all your letters when I was well enough. They helped me get better. I know that probably sounds ridiculous.”
“No, not ridiculous.” She watched me, carefully, as if I were an oddity she wanted to figure out but couldn’t quite. “Sweet, actually. Reading letters from a girl you didn’t know seems a romantic thing to do.”
“They gave me joy when I needed it most. Like a good book.”
“I can imagine doing the same in your situation. You were lonely and scared and needed a distraction.” Josephine took in a deep breath and looked up at the rafters. “There were parts meant just for Walter. I’m slightly mortified to think what I put in there. I must have sounded like a lovesick girl.”
“You made me long for someone to feel that way about me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not that good a writer.”
“I beg to differ.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I was taken aback when you said he’d read parts of the letters to the other men. I imagined him reading them as I did his. Savoring every bit. Reading them over and over and keeping them to myself. Holding them close. Like a secret love.”
“We needed your stories of family doing ordinary things. You can’t imagine how much. There were days…when things were really bad and I felt certain none of us would ever make it home.” I paused, thinking about how much I wanted to tell her. How truthful did I want to be? “They hinted at the possibilities of life. If I could just make it out alive, there might be a girl who would love me as you had Walter. Then later, when I was sick, they held the idea of promise. Of better things to come.”
“I’m glad they gave you something to hold on to. After your letter that Walter had died, I was lost in that way, too. Looking for anything that would lead me into the future. That they gave you all something to look forward to and enjoy during such a hard time gives my life meaning.” Her voice wavered. “I struggle to understand why certain things have happened and what my place is supposed to be now. Is it just my work at the library? Should that be enough?”
“You could love again, couldn’t you?” I asked. “Someone worthy?”
“My father did. After Mother died, he was able to fall in love. But me? I don’t know. There’s never been anyone else I felt that way for.”
Bitter jealousy churned my stomach. If she only knew how undeserving my friend had been.
“What about you, Phillip Baker? You must not have a girl back in New York or you would’ve brought her with you.”
“Right, there’s no one.”
“Do you want someone?” Josephine asked.
“I want a wife and family more than anything in the world.”
Her eyes softened. “Oh, that’s nice. You’ll get it. A wonderful, very lucky girl will come to you soon.”