Come, Josephine

Note from thr author

Note from the author...
Hi all, I just wanted to hop on here to say that I have had several new chapters in the works for quite some time now, but that I haven't had the time to fulfil my duties as a writer. Much like my characters, I live a rural lifestyle. It has been haying season of late, which has meant some early starts and hard days of manual labour. Between preparing storage and equipment, dismantling heavy shelving to make room, and the actual baling and hauling of the hay, I'm absolutely exhausted. Between that, keeping the horses fit, and my other chores, I haven't had much time for myself. It's hard running the farm as an eighteen-year-old who has no idea what she is doing, so I (and the livestock!) thank you for your patience.
As always,
Write Write Writing
1928
Josephine
   I went up to my room through the side door to the house, careful not to disturb my parents. I removed my coat in preparation to get into bed; a headache had started at my temples, and I needed sleep.
I went about the room, tidying a little as I went, and eventually settled at my dressing table to brush and re-braid my hair. It was messy after weeks of restless sleep, and in all truthfulness, I needed a bath. I was too tired, however, to persuade mamma that I was well enough to get wet and risk another chill.
As I brushed out my hair, I caught sight of Nick in the mirror. He straddled the windowsill, a little sheepishly. He didn't smile in the way he usually did, but instead maintained a serious expression. My heart lurched.
"Get out." I said, "I don't really want to talk to you right now."
   "Josie," his voice was soft, pleading, "please?"
   "That was really embarrassing," I didn't bother to turn to face him, but kept my eyes trained on his reflection.
   "I know, I'm sorry," he said.
   He crossed the room and knelt beside my chair, looking up at me in a way he knew would force me to forgive him. I frowned, "what is up with you? You're not yourself."
   "I'm just tired," he admitted, 'really tired, actually. I haven't been sleeping much."
   "And I suppose that's my fault? God, Nick, stop being so controlling."
    "I can't help it," his voice was riddled with frustration, "damn it, Josie, I haven't been sleeping because I've been afraid that if I fall asleep, you might take a turn and that I won't wake up in time."
   "What are you talking about? It was never that serious-"
  He stood up abruptly, "You nearly fitted, Josie, that's serious. Damn it, nothing would bring your fever down. I sat here, night after night, watching you get worse- so excuse me for caring."
   "I'm okay now-"
    "But you were still really, really sick," Nick said, "Josie, even Jack was beside himself. He sat by your bed just as much as I did. On the worst night, when we came close to loosing you, I went outside to get some air and when I came back, Jack was crying. Do you think Jack worries over nothing?"
   "He just felt bad," I snapped.
   "Damn it, Josie, just shut up and let us take care of you."
   I realised that I had been shouting and kept silent. I focused my reflection instead, and thought out my words carefully, "Nick, I can't do this anymore. Go to bed."
He went to argue, but instead he turned to leave the way he came in. He shuffled down the trellis until I heard a light thud, and footsteps trailing away.
I slept soundly for what only felt like minutes, roused from my sleep by a soft knocking at my bedroom door.
"Hey, kid, you all right?" Jack called through the door, "you didn't come down for dinner last night."
"I was tired," I said, "do you want to come in?"
He came in, shutting the door behind him, "your ma said you were sound asleep when she came to check on you."
"I was tired," I said again, "have you seen Nick?"
He chuckled, "he was pretty quiet last night. Fell asleep at the table."
"I should go talk to him," I said, "I feel bad."
He gave me a quizzical look, and I continued, "we were both so tired yesterday, which was my fault to begin with, and we just kept snapping at each other."
"That's why he was quiet, then." He said, a little nervously, "he might be tired, Josie, but that doesn't excuse poor behaviour."
"I know," I said, recalling my words from the previous day, "but he was actually just looking out for me. Didn't want me doing too much, I guess."
   "Well, I don't doubt that he's sorry. Why don't you go down and talk to-"
   As Jack rose, he suddenly fell silent at the sound of someone hurrying down the corridor. From the sound of the footfalls, it was mamma. When she came in, face flushed, she caught him by the arm.
   "It's mother," she said, her eyes lined with silver, "it's mother-"
     I watched as Jack held her in his arms, his grip firm on her shoulders. I watched, as if frozen in time, as she opened her mouth to speak, and as the first tears fell. I watched, silently, as a maid ran down the stairs, just out view, and as Nick came up the stairs, brushing past her.
   I watched, in horror, as everything changed, all at once.