Page 85 of In These Hills

“Well, good night, Josephine, and thank you again for helping.”

“Good night, Dodge.”

Almost to the street, he heard her call his name and turned back.

“I meant to ask you . . . You said straight shooter to Bethie tonight, and she said it back . . .”

Her question hung in the silence.

“That’s something we started years ago. Even as a little thing, Bethie never wanted to be treated like a child, didn’t want anything honey coated. Tell me straight, she used to say, unless it turned out to be something she didn’t want to hear, then she’d be mad as a hornet for days. So, when there’s something I think she needs to know, yet I know it’s going to cause her a lot of hurt, I give her the choice.”

“Interesting . . .” Her voice floated toward him in the dark. “Has she ever chosen not to hear what you had to say?”

“A handful of times, but that was a while back.”

“Brave girl.”

“She is that. But—” He only hesitated for a second. “I think it’s more because she’s learned that it’s not so much a choice of her knowing the truth as it is her choosing when she knows it. Because truth will always make itself known. It’s usually just a matter of time.”

The brief distance between the street and porch seemed to expand in the silence, and her barely audible whisper, “Good night, Dodge,” stayed with him long after he’d crawled into bed.

33

“DISTILLERY TOUR TIME!” Jack Daniel announced as he breezed into the office two mornings later.

Josephine didn’t look up from the ledger. “Mr. Daniel, I’m organizing next week’s orders, and I still have a stack of inquiries to respond to—”

“Which you’ll do better after the tour.” He motioned her up. “Dodge will be here any minute. I’ll walk with you awhile, then head to Tullahoma. I have an appointment in Nashville.”

“A lady friend?”

A waggle of his brow confirmed it.

“The same one as last time?”

Another waggle denied it.

“Mr. Daniel, your . . . love of the ladies, for lack of a better term, is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“I’m nearly fifty-six years old, Mrs. Dunham. If I haven’t earned the right to enjoy pleasant company, just put me in the grave. Women and whiskey are my greatest joys.” He made a grand gesture. “As Thoreau said—‘Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit!’”

“You’re quoting a man who embraced simplicity and reflection. I seriously doubt Henry David Thoreau meant whiskey. Or women.”

Mr. Daniel waved that away. “Had he conferred with me, he’d have understood life far better. So much for living alone in a cabin in the woods.”

Josephine worked to keep her smile in check. “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well. Ralph Waldo Emerson.”

“Spoken like a man who never enjoyed himself.” Mr. Daniel peered out the window. “Dodge is coming. How vain it is to sit down to write when you haven’t stood up to live.”

She tossed her pen aside. “What is it with you and Thoreau?”

“I have a lot of time to read on trains.”

Dodge walked in. “Sorry I’m late. Ready?”

Mr. Daniel headed out, clearly pleased with himself. “Under mild coercion, but yes.”

Josephine slowly rose, her attention riveted. Dodge looked markedly different, and the change was . . . heady. “You trimmed your beard.”