Josephine by Beverly Jenkins Page A

longer twelve years old. She was a seventeen-year-old owner of her own business, and such women did not let themselves become distracted by light-skinned Canadian Lotharios.

    Jo spent the entire next day doing the heads of her customers. By the time she got home late that evening she was so exhausted, even walking was a tremendous chore. She fell into one of the parlor chairs and moaned to Belle, “Tell me again why I want to be a hairdresser.”
    Belle smiled. “I have some water heating on the stove if you’d like to take a long hot soak.”
    “Oh, I love you more each day. That sounds perfect. How’s our guest faring?”
    “Coming along. He asked after you. He says he hasn’t seen you since yesterday.”
    “Another few days won’t hurt him.”
    Belle acted surprised. “Jo?”
    Jo waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sorry, Belle. After I’m done with my bath I’ll stop in and say hello. I’m just tired now, is all.”
    Belle nodded understandingly. “Well, I already pulled the tub into the room for you. The water should be hot enough shortly.”
    The room Belle was referring to was a bathing room built off the kitchen. It was small but served its purpose well. Jo couldn’t wait to bask in the big, claw-foot tub.

    After Jo had her bath and dinner, she put on an old skirt and blouse, then went down and knocked on Adam’s door.
    He called out, “Come on in.”
    When she entered, he nodded slightly. “Evenin’, Jo.”
    Her reply was distant. “How are you, Adam?”
    “Fine.”
    Adam surveyed her and wondered what he’d have to do to restore the sparkle he’d become accustomed to seeing in her eyes. He asked in serious tones, “How long are you going to punish me?”
    The question caught Jo off guard. “Who says that’s what I’m doing?”
    “I do. You didn’t come to see me today.”
    “I had appointments to honor. I’ve been home only an hour or so.”
    “I want us to be friends again, Jo.”
    “I don’t see why we can’t.”
    Adam noted that in spite of her conciliatory words, her frosty manner could chill ice cream. “Then can I convince you to play checkers with me?”
    “Sure,” she replied. “I’ll get the board.”
    She turned to go. His voice stopped her. “Jojo?”
    She faced him. She waited.
    “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Truly. Please forgive me?”
    Emotion swelled in Jo. The honesty in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice touched her deep inside. “I shouldn’t speak to you ever again, Adam Morgan, but you’re forgiven.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    Jo went downstairs to retrieve the checkerboard and pieces; she felt much better.
    Jo won the first game, hands down.
    An impressed Adam asked, “When did you learn to play so well? I remember being able to beat you with my eyes closed.”
    “I was twelve at the time.”
    “Oh, that’s right. A twelve-year-old pest.”
    “Don’t start,” she warned him, smiling.
    “Sorry.”
    She then asked, “Was I really that bad?”
    He set his pieces up for another game. “Yes.”
    “No, I wasn’t.”
    His voice was lit with humor. “If you don’t want to hear the truth, don’t ask the question.”
    “Well, all I remember is how rotten you, Dani and Jeremiah were to me when I was small.”
    Adam looked offended. “I beg your pardon! We treated you like a little queen.”
    “You don’t tie a queen to a tree and use her as bee bait.”
    Adam threw back his head and laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
    “I haven’t. Nor have I forgotten the serious whippings Papa gave out on my behalf after you all brought me home that night.”
    Adam rubbed his hip at the memory. “Ouch. It was memorable, all right. It was your brother’s idea to smear that honey all over you.”
    “Whose idea was it to tie me to the tree?”
    “Jere. He wanted to know if the honey would protect a person from bee stings.”
    “So you all used me.”
    Adam grinned and nodded. “You were available, but