Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Strawberry Summer	By : QueenoftheDream Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Kouga/Kagome Views: 3312 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor do I make any money in writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
April 11, 1886
Kagome awoke with a groan. It was still dark, and the air had a chilly bite, so she hurried outside to do her morning chores as quickly as possible. She was cramped and bent over like a hunchbacked wretch in the chicken coop, and of course the chickens felt tetchy and belligerent while she tried to collect the eggs in her apron. As soon as she escaped the small structure, Kagome sucked in a deep breath of cool, fresh air, which was a marked difference from the sharp, foul smell inside the insidious den of poultry horrors. After carefully carrying the eggs over to the barn, she laid them in the bottom of one of the pails before going over to milk Peaches.
As soon as she deposited the fresh milk and eggs in the kitchen, she hurried back upstairs to change into her nicer Sunday clothes. She could hear Sota squawking about his lost shoe and Mama replying impatiently as she did her best at wrestling Grandpa into his clothing. Kagome suppressed a soft giggle as Grandpa’s hollering and sour attitude as Mama presumably was pulling his arms through the nice jacket that made his neck itchy, or so he claimed every Sunday. She draped her shawl over her shoulders while descending the stairs and laced up her dress boots as the rest of her family congregated in the living room to don their own shoes.
As she pulled on her doeskin gloves, she peeked around the curtains and of course saw Joseph Hopkins driving a wooden wagon up. He stopped at the front gate, and Kagome jumped back from the window, pursing her lips with a small grumble. “Mama, Mr. Hopkins is here,” she called, and Mama left Grandpa to lean on Sota as she bustled out the door to meet the neighbor boy. Kagome and Sota each took a side on Grandpa and helped him through the door. Mama was already in the front of the wagon chattering up a storm to Joseph, who gave a radiant smile when he saw Kagome exit the front door of the house. She smiled in response and hoped it didn’t look too much like the cringe she wanted to show.
She and Sota helped Grandpa up to sit in the back of the cart, which already held the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins. After getting her grandfather settled in, Kagome sat down near the back of the cart, and as Joseph smacked the reins against his horses’ hides, she saw Koga exit the barn across the property. He tipped his hat at her, and she risked a small wave of her gloved hand, which was thankfully unnoticed as most parties were engaged in conversation.
The ride into town was boring, cloudy, and uneventful, and they pulled up in front of St. Ann’s as the crowd began to funnel inside. Joseph bent down to deposit a few coins in the palm of a stable boy, who stood by the horses as the occupants of the cart hopped off. After helping his aging parents down the wooden stairs at the back of the wagon, he walked with a spring in his step toward Kagome, who was standing near her mother and trying her hardest to disappear.
“Well, good morning, Miss Kagome,” he greeted far too cheerfully. Kagome nodded her head and murmured a “good morning” in response. He held out his arm, and she stared at it in abject despair before taking the proffered limb and stepping into the small church. She and Joseph stepped up and seated themselves on a pew midway between the front and back rows. As soon as they were seated, Kagome disentangled her arm from his and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for the service to begin. Her mother was seated to her right and Joseph to her left, so not only was she trapped, but she was being watched like a hawk by Mama. As such, she listened politely as Joseph prattled on and on about meaningless trifles.
“Did you know that someone is talking about buying up that property along Kiowa Street? There’s talk of putting in a bigger, nicer church there, you see.” He was turned toward her, slowly pressing into her personal space.
“Hm, is that so?” Kagome tried to feign interest, but in her mind, she was imagining herself being squashed by Peaches, trampled by a runaway horse and pecked to death by the moody hens, and each of those outcomes seemed more pleasant than being in her present tedious position.
In a stroke of luck, she was granted reprieve when one of his friends sat next to him and struck up a conversation. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she leaned to the right to speak with Mama.
“So tell me, Mama. Truly, why is it that you have such vehement dislike for our new employee?”
Her mother inhaled sharply before replying. “Kagome, this is hardly the time to be stirring up trouble,” she whispered under her breath.
“It’s only a simple question, Mother, and I meant no harm by it. I just want to know why is all.”
Mama sighed. “I do not dislike him. He seems a calm sort and completes his work as assigned. It is his lineage and status that I dislike when taken in the context of your flirtations with him.”
Kagome felt her mouth turn down in a small frown. “Once more, there is nothing between us. For another thing, what does his blood have to do with anything? You yourself are a half breed, and Father was able to love you all the same despite him being a white man.”
Her mother turned away with tightly pursed lips and looked at her daughter from the corner of her eye. “That was entirely different, and you know it. I will hear no more of this today,” she stiffly murmured as Mass began.
She sat through the service, ever conscious of Joseph’s presence at her left. He was sitting so close to her that he could feel the heat radiating from his leg and arm. After what seemed like an eternity, it was time to return home. As they exited the church, Mama pulled Kagome aside.
“Why don’t you take young Joseph with you to the grocer? I’ve made a list of things for you to pick up for dinner tonight since the Hopkins family will be joining us.” She slipped a small scrap of paper into Kagome’s hand and hurried back over to the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins and Sota, gesturing to Joseph to walk Kagome to the store.
“My, it’s quite a ways to Helm & Co., yes? We’d best get to hurrying, Miss,” he gabbed before outright grabbing her hand and walking away from the church. Kagome could hear her mother gasp in delight behind her and fought the urge to drag her hand down her burning face. Joseph’s hand was warm through her gloves, and he was kind enough to let her walk near the buildings and away from the muddy streets.
“So, what d’ya have all on the list to be purchasing?”
“Oh, not much. Just some smoked salmon and a sack of cornmeal. Mama’s making smoky chowder and cornbread for dinner by the looks of it. Probably some sort of soup from the tomatoes you were kind enough to bring over a few days go. I’m not sure of dessert just yet. You are coming tonight with your parents?” It killed her inside a bit to feign interest in the prospects of his appearance at dinner, but she knew it was necessary in order to keep up conversation with him.
“Oh, yes! Our cook is adept at her craft, but your mother most certainly has something special about her cooking,” he complimented with a smile. A cool breeze ruffled his dark auburn hair.
Kagome chuckled and didn’t have the heart to tell him that in the overwhelming majority of Sunday dinners, it was Josephine who prepared most of the meal rather than her mother. “Maybe I’ll purchase some candy to give to Sota in a two weeks’ time once Lent is over,” she mused, and she was intensely aware that Joseph was running his thumb over her knuckles while he beamed like an idiot. She picked up the pace, for the sooner she got to the grocer’s, the sooner she would have a reason to snatch her hand back from his affectionate clutches.
After what seemed like half an age, the pair had traversed the blocks and arrived at the front of Helm & Co. While the store itself was closed due to it being Sunday, P.C. Helm was at his business every other Sunday to take the day to tidy up the store, balance the books, and the like. Kagome’s father and Mr. Helm had been in the same company in the American Civil War, and so as a favor to the Walker family, he allowed them to occasionally come in the back door and place small orders.
Some minutes later, Joseph exited the store with a burlap sack of cornmeal slung over his left shoulder followed by Kagome, who carried a tin of smoked fish and a small bag of hard candies that was promptly tucked into a pocket in the folds of her dress. On the walk back to St. Ann’s Joseph settled for looping his arm with hers, and while it still made her tense and nervous, it was nowhere near as embarrassing and uncomfortable as having to hold his hand.
When they got back to the church, the Hopkins’ wagon was standing out in front, and Sota was helping Grandpa get comfortable in the back. Joseph heaved the cornmeal onto the platform and pushed it back before offering Kagome his hand so she could climb up. With that, the party started back out to the country. Mama was smiling a catlike grin, knowing that Kagome and Joseph had spent time together. Kagome resented it entirely, but there was naught to be done about the situation or her mother’s attitude toward it.
As soon as the wagon came to the front of the Walker ranch, everyone climbed out of the wagon and retreated indoors. Sota carried the cornmeal and tin of fish into the kitchen before changing and heading outside to help with the work around the property, while Kagome was kept inside to entertain the guests with Mama. Every so once in a while, Mama would go into the kitchen to lend some aid to Josephine in cooking the large Sunday meal, and in those interims, Kagome was expected to hold her own, whether it be in conversation, jest, or even light gossip with the neighbors.
Conversation was slow and awkward at best, and it eventually devolved into Joseph gushing to Kagome about their family wheat farm and the benefits of this breed of grain over that, and which types are hardier in the winter versus the summer. His father was slouched on the old sofa next to Grandpa, and together they looked like two distinctly grumpy, bloated frogs stuffed into suits. After a little while, Joseph’s mother simply got up and went to the kitchen with Mama, so Kagome was essentially left alone with Joseph while the old men snoozed. Joseph walked along the living room alternately putting his hands in and out of his pockets and making awkward compliments on the state of the floral wallpaper and windowpanes, and all Kagome could do is smile and agree uncomfortably. She almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Her salvation came in the form of a steaming pot of chowder and a dirt-smudged boy racing through the house to get at it.
Mama called everyone to the kitchen table for supper, and Sota dashed back outside to retrieve Michael and Koga while Kagome helped Gramps and the elder Mr. Hopkins into the other room. After getting the old men settled into their seats, Kagome sat down at the table to realize that Koga was nowhere to be seen.
“Should I retrieve Mr. Allen, Mother?”
Kagome could see her mother’s hand tighten around the handle of the ladle as she filled the bowls, but she quickly plastered on a small smile for the company. “Of course, dear. I would imagine he’s been hard at work all day, so it would be nice for him to have a good hot meal.” Her words spoke of generosity and good will, but her eyes said without words, “Watch where you tread, girl.” Kagome ducked her head and padded out to the porch.
Luckily, Koga was walking out of the barn, and Kagome waved him over from the porch as she leaned on the white chipped railing. He jogged down the slope toward her, pushing his hat firmly onto his head in the face of a gust of wind.
“Why don’t you come inside for supper? Everybody is invited, Mr. Allen, and that includes you,” she called out as he neared the porch.
“I reckon I can eat later. Wouldn’t want to make things uncomfortable with your mother and all,” he replied, brushing his hands against his pants.
“You caught onto that, huh?” she asked with a grimace. When he shrugged in response, she scoffed. “Well, regardless of that situation, you are still invited inside, and when I say invited, I mean ordered.” She planted her hands on her hips in mock authority, and he rolled his eyes but mounted the porch steps all the same.
When he came inside, he immediately took off his hat, and Kagome placed his boots with everyone else’s shoes before leading him to the dinner table. The food was already dished out, and the candles were burning in the pewter candlesticks that Mama got out for special occasions. Kagome resumed her seat at the table, and Koga bowed his head.
“Many apologies for my tardiness, Ma’am,” he said clearly, and Mama gave him a curt nod, signaling that he take his seat. The meal passed with much conversation. Sota was speaking animatedly with Koga, no doubt interrogating him on his upbringing and Native heritage. Both Mama and Mrs. Hopkins were feeding and wiping up their respective wards, and Josephine and Michael stood to eat together, being that there weren’t enough chairs at the table to seat everyone. That left, of course, Joseph and Kagome to talk. Luckily for her, he didn’t seem too keen on keeping up conversation apart from sprinkling in comments on how rich the smoked salmon chowder was and how lovely the cornbread tasted, especially with the homemade butter. She gave him a quizzical look and continued to languidly spoon food into her mouth.
Her eyes met Koga’s across the table just as Joseph launched into a story of when he and his father went to New England and ate a strange but delicious chowder with fresh clams. As he exclaimed how the dish changed his entire outlook on soups, waving his spoon with gusto, Koga’s lips flattened into a suppressed smile while Sota gabbed next to him. Kagome nodded assent to whatever it was the young Hopkins was blathering about while trying to keep her face schooled. When the table was cleared and maple custard was served for dessert, she almost thought Joseph would fly out of his seat with the amount of enthusiasm he was radiating.
Just as she thought she would meet her end- grueling death by small talk-, Michael took his leave and retreated back outside to finish work around the ranch, and Josephine cleared the dishes. Mama steered everyone into the main room where they were to entertain the guests for a little while longer. Koga attempted to leave with Michael, but Kagome gave him her most pitiful look when nobody was looking. It gave her a secret thrill when he followed the crowd into the other room rather than withdrawing to the barn.
Everyone took seats, whether it be in chairs, the sofa, or on the rug in front of the dusty fireplace. Sota broke out his worn deck of playing cards and attempted his latest card trick. When the cards fell out of his sleeve, his face turned bright red, but Mrs. Hopkins pretended not to see and feigned shock and delight when she was “tricked” by his clever “sleight of hand.” Inevitably, the sexes separated, and Grandpa instructed Sota to retrieve his good bottle of brandy while the men discussed the state of the market for horses, wheat, and whatever else it was that men spoke of.
Kagome was relegated to the corner where Mama and Mrs. Hopkins were lying in wait for her. She knew that her mother was constantly wheedling and sweet talking the Hopkins family, and Mrs. Hopkins seemed to be approving of the suit, despite the fact that her son had still not formally asked for Kagome’s hand in marriage. The two matrons went on about the latest gossip concerning the wealthier families living in Colorado Springs, leaving Kagome to sit and nod woodenly at their conversation. She was staring at the small ridge of dust lining the fireplace scoop when Mrs. Hopkins cleared her throat.
“Your mother was just telling me last week that you are a student of the violin? Your father played if I remember correctly.” Her sweet, silvery voice lilted, and Kagome felt herself go pale.
“Um, ehm, yes, ma’am, though it would be imposturous of me to claim the title of student. I’m not all so proficient in my playing as to claim talent,” she replied in a meek voice. Mentally, she prayed that she would not be called upon to play. Normally, she enjoyed playing her violin, but performing in front of Joseph sent an unpleasant chilliness through her gut, which was also churning at the prospect of having to play in front of Koga.
“Oh, nonsense, dear! I simply must hear you play,” the elder woman exclaimed, effectively drawing the whole room’s attention to their corner.
“Kagome, dear, go and fetch your violin. You can play something before we walk these kind folks out,” her mother commanded. It of course was disguised in a sheath of a soft request. Kagome resigned herself to her fate and bounded upstairs to retrieve her battered old instrument. When she reappeared back down stairs, everyone in the room had rearranged so as to watch her. Koga sat in front of the fireplace with one arm slung over a bent knee.
She stepped over to the middle of the room and was ashamed to feel her knees and calves quivering. Koga looked up at her, and she took a deep breath and let it out before turning herself to face him and closing her eyes.
With her next shuddering breath, she set her bow to the strings and let the music happen. Though it was only a few minutes, it felt like she played for hours, her breath hanging on each sweet note of the song as her fingers trembled on the neck. She faltered a bit once, causing her eyes to fly open while she adjusted her fingers to correct the mistake. Her heart hammered in embarrassment from the miniscule error, but Koga’s eyes met hers for a brief second. She could see no judgement, nor any trace of scorn or disappointment. His silent rapt attention bolstered her spirit, and she forced herself to avert her eyes as the music sung out from the fiddle. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew the last stanzas out across the strings, and when she coaxed out the final note, the room sounded around her with polite applause. Her face lifted into a nervous, jittery smile, and she gave a little curtsy before bustling back upstairs to put the fiddle away.
When she reappeared, Koga had apparently gone outside, and the two families were congregated near the front door and saying their farewells. They all filed out the door and the Walkers waved as Joseph drove his family down the road in the wagon. Sota patted Kagome on the shoulder as she dropped into the old rocking chair on the porch.
“You go on inside without me, Mama. I’ll be in in a bit,” Kagome said as she looked across the way at the early sunset’s golden rays sprayed across the wheat fields. Sota escorted their mother back inside, and Kagome gave a small sigh as a light breeze played over the tops of the wheat, causing them to give off a light, warm rustling sound. She closed her eyes and rocked in the chair despite the slight chill in the air.
She was startled out of her reverie by Koga’s voice. “Amazing Grace is one of my favorite hymns. You did it well,” he said from below the porch. Her cheeks warmed as she sat up to look at him over the balcony. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, leaning most of his weight on one leg. She stood up from the creaking chair.
“I thank you, Mr.- er, Koga,” she replied sincerely, and he snorted when she stumbled over her words. An almost awkward silence fell over them.
“So, your father played that fiddle there as well I hear?”
“Oh. Yes, he played. He did a little bit of everything really. A little bit of animal husbandry, a little bit of carpentry, a little bit of music,” she chuckled. “He taught me some of the rudiments of the fiddle before he died, but since then I have taught myself. I’m not terribly good at playing. It’s more of a hobby than a skill,” she blurted, trying to fill the stillness.
“Well good or bad, I hope it would not be exceedingly presumptuous of me to wish to hear you play more some time,” Koga said quietly as he looked up to meet her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the desire to clap her hands to her chest to calm the throbbing pulse.
Her head felt like it was swimming in a strange cocktail of giddy nausea and joyous glee, and she felt the overwhelming and unladylike desire to hop over the railing and throw herself in his arms, provided of course he didn’t shove her away. Instead, she clasped her hands low and stepped forward to the balcony to reply.
“I would like that very much.”

A/N: Did you guys know that the violin is the same thing as a fiddle?! Is that common knowledge? I had absolutely no idea until I came across it on the internet a few hours ago. Whoa.
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Strawberry Summer