The Hand-Me-Down Family Read online

  A few minutes later Jack stood and patted the cow. “Thanks, girl.” He carefully set the bucket of frothy white liquid on a wooden table next to the barn door, then returned and untied the cow.

  Finally, he turned to Callie. “Ready to give it a try?”

  She gave a confident nod.

  “All right. First, add a bit of grain to her feed trough.” He handed her a large chipped bowl filled with corn and some other type of grain. “Always approach her from the right side. That’s also the side you’re going to milk her from.” He set the stool in place. “Cows are creatures of habit and you want to approach her the same way every time.”

  Callie nodded and dutifully poured the grain into the feed trough.

  “When you’re ready, take a minute to pat her side and talk to her so she knows you’re there.”

  What did one say to a cow? She decided to pretend Clover was just a big dog. “Hi there, girl.” She patted the animal’s side. “I’m Callie and I hope you’re going to take it easy on me this morning.”

  The cow turned her head, looking at Callie with big, soulful brown eyes as if to reassure her. Callie smiled. So far this didn’t seem so difficult.

  “All right,” Jack said. “Now take these two pails.” He handed her an empty pail and one with fresh water and a rag.

  “Scoot your stool up next to her, then sit at a right angle.” He watched carefully as she complied. “You might want to lean your head or shoulder against her flank, just to keep the two of you anchored to each other.”

  Callie gave him a startled look. Was he serious? But then she remembered that he’d been sitting that way earlier. She leaned forward, her shoulder touching the cow.

  “Now take this bucket,” he said, pointing to the one filled with water, “and wash down her udder. That’ll make sure you don’t get any dirt in the milk.”

  Callie did as she was told, all the while feeling Jack’s assessing eye on her.

  “That’s good. Take the milk pail and place it directly under the udder. Okay. Now you’ll want to use your left hand to hold the pail steady. These two cows seem pretty tame, but you never know when one of them will have a bad day. You don’t want them stepping in the pail or kicking it over.”

  “Kicking?”

  He shrugged. “It happens. Hurts like h—” he cleared his throat “—like fire if you get in the way. Just keep your eyes open.”

  Callie shifted uneasily.

  He stooped down beside her. “Watch me, then you try it. What you need to do is take one of the teats into the palm of your hand, like this. Starting at the top, squeeze with your thumb and forefinger. Then squeeze with your next finger, then the next, until your entire hand is curled around it. Then you release and do it all over again.”

  Sounded simple enough.

  He straightened. “Think you have it?”

  She nodded.

  “Then give it a shot.”

  Callie took a deep breath, then reached up and positioned her hand as he’d instructed. She mentally reviewed his directions as she squeezed.

  Nothing happened.

  “Let’s go over it again.” He repeated the instructions, then crossed his arms and waited for her to follow through.

  Feeling slightly less confident, Callie tried again.

  Still nothing.

  Jack stooped down until his head was level with hers. “One more time.”

  She did, with the same dismal results.

  “I think I see what your problem is. Here, let me show you.”

  Jack shifted forward until they were shoulder to shoulder. He wrapped his hand around hers, encompassing it in a firm yet not unpleasant hold.

  Callie was startled by his nearness, by the solid warmth of his hands on hers. She’d felt it before when he held her hand—that something protective in his touch, strong and gentle at the same time.

  It took her a few seconds to realize he was speaking again.

  “…need to apply a bit more pressure and make your movements smoother, firmer.” He used his fingers to manipulate hers and like magic the milk pinged into the bucket. “Do you feel the difference?”

  “Y-yes.” She cleared her throat, clearing her head at the same time. “That was very helpful. Thank you.”

  With a nod he released her hand and glanced up. For a moment their gazes locked and she saw something flicker to life in his eyes. Whatever it was, though, it was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

  “Well then,” he sat back on his heels and broke eye contact, “let’s see you give it a go on your own.”

  “Of course.”

  To her immense relief, the milk spurted into the pail with a satisfactory splish.

  Jack stood. “Better. Now, you just keep that up until nothing more comes out. Then you move on to the next one. Clover’s calf needs to be fed so you’ll just milk out two teats. The calf will get the rest.”

  Callie nodded as she continued to work. There was a rhythm to this and she’d almost found it. It helped if she concentrated on what she was doing rather than on Jack.

  It took her nearly twenty minutes to complete the task, but Callie felt an immense sense of satisfaction when she’d finished. She turned to share her accomplishment with Jack, only to find him busy spreading fresh hay in the vacated stalls.

  Looking around, she realized he’d turned out Belle and filled the water troughs already. And probably a few other things she wasn’t yet trained to notice.

  And here she’d been feeling so smug about having milked a cow in that time, and only halfway at that.

  She stood, stretching her back and flexing her sore hand muscles.

  Jack leaned on the pitchfork, giving her an almost sympathetic smile. “Harder than it looks, isn’t it?”

  “I imagine it’ll get easier with practice.” She set her pail on the table next to his. “What’s next?”

  “You take this milk on up to the house.” He cocked his head to one side. “That is, if your hands aren’t too sore to handle the pails.”

  She wasn’t going to let him see how cramped her hands and arms felt. “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He wiped his brow. “Morning’s getting on. If we’re going to get everyone fed and ready for church, you need to get breakfast started and see to the kids. I’ll finish up in here and take care of gathering the eggs.”

  He took a firmer hold of the pitchfork, then paused again. “And don’t forget to strain the milk. There ought to be some cheesecloth in the kitchen or laundry room.”

  She nodded and grabbed the pails.

  “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully, “tomorrow you’ll get a real taste of what farm life is all about.”

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Callie trudge through the barn door with the pails of milk. What was it about holding hands with this woman? There’d been a moment earlier when—

  He tamped that thought down and focused instead on what they’d accomplished this morning.

  Callie might have more than her fair share of determination, but now she’d gotten a small taste of what she’d be up against. How would she feel about things after a few more days of this? Would her resolve to stay out here waver? If it did, could he really, in good conscience, leave her and the kids here on their own?

  He let the calf out of its pen and it immediately trotted over to its mother and began suckling.

  He snatched the cloth-lined wicker basket from the workbench and trudged toward the hen house.

  As he methodically reached into each nest and plucked out the still warm eggs, Jack began pondering alternatives. Like it or not, these four were his responsibility and leaving them in the lurch was not an option. But neither was his staying here in Sweetgum. So what could he do to make certain both their interests and his were taken care of? Surely he was resourceful enough to come up with something.

  Because he was as determined as ever to return to his former life as soon as possible.

  Callie set the milk pails on the kitche
n counter and went to the washroom to clean up and fetch the cheesecloth. The day was barely started and already she was sore. And Jack implied he’d gone easy on her! Could she really do this?

  Father, give me the strength I’ll need to see this through. I desperately want to stay here in this place, but help me to not let my selfish desires blind me to what is best for the family as a whole.

  It took more time to prepare breakfast and get the children ready than Callie had expected, but finally they were all dressed in their Sunday best and seated in the buggy. She’d have to do something about Emma and Simon’s clothing. With the exception of what they’d been wearing the day of the fire, everything had been destroyed. Mrs. Mayweather had found them a few extra items to wear, but they needed more.

  Jack flicked the reins and set the wagon in motion. Callie faced the road with a smile of satisfaction. She’d made it through the first morning without any notable disasters. And with any luck they would make it into town before the church service started.

  The silence drew out. This wouldn’t do at all.

  Callie turned to face the children. “Have any of you ever played the Endless Story game?”

  Three sets of eyes stared at her blankly.

  “It’s a game my sisters and I used to play for hours at a time,” Callie said.

  “You have sisters?” Annabeth’s eyes were round with surprise.

  “Yes, four of them, actually.”

  “I like stories,” Emma offered.

  “Then you’ll enjoy this.”

  Annabeth propped her arms and chin against the back of the front seat. “How do you play?”

  “Well, one person starts telling a story.” Callie waved a hand. “It can be about anything at all. But at the end of two minutes they must stop, even if they are in the middle of a sentence. Then the next person picks up the story where the first person left off, taking it in any direction they want. After two minutes, they stop and the next person starts, and so on.”

  Annabeth clapped her hands. “Ooh, let’s play.”

  Callie looked at the other two. “How about you? Do you want to give it a try?”

  Emma nodded somewhat hesitantly. Simon merely shrugged.

  “All right, then, I’ll start.” She turned to Jack. “Can we borrow your pocket watch?”

  He hesitated a fraction of a second, then slowly pulled his watch out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  She stared at it. It wasn’t the one she’d given him.

  She did her best to ignore the stab of rejection. Perhaps this one had some sentimental value to him, had come from someone who mattered.

  She swallowed her hurt and gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

  Then she quickly turned to the children. “Now, let’s see. In a land far away, there was a castle situated next to the ocean. And in this castle lived many people, including a girl named Flora and a boy named Hawk. Flora’s favorite pastime was working in her garden where flowers of every color and scent grew, and where butterflies and insects added color and nature’s own music.

  “Hawk, on the other hand, preferred to roam through the forest, exploring caves and gullies, discovering new trails and fishing in the many streams…”

  While Callie wove her tale, she kept a close eye on the watch. As the two-minute mark approached, she deliberately stopped in mid-sentence. “While Flora was busy deciding what to do about the wilting flowers, Hawk had discovered—” She halted. “Uh-oh, looks like my time is up. Who wants to go next?”

  Annabeth raised her hand. “I do.”

  “So, tell us what happens next.”

  “Hawk had discovered…he was lost.” The little girl tossed her head, dismissing the hapless Hawk. “Back at the castle, Flora looked under her pink rosebush and found a puppy…”

  Annabeth happily chatted on about Flora and the menagerie of pets she discovered hiding in her garden until Callie signaled that her two minutes were up and tapped Emma to take over.

  Jack listened to the story unroll from each of his passenger’s perspective. Callie even managed to coax shy Emma and surly Simon to participate. How did she do that?

  He declined when she asked if he wanted a turn, and without missing a beat, she took her turn again.

  Her very lack of reproach over both his refusal to participate in their game and his rejection of the gift she’d given him had him mentally squirming.

  Shaking that uncomfortable feeling off, he listened to the story as it was reshaped by each speaker in turn.

  Interesting.

  Annabeth concentrated on Flora and her interaction with the numerous animals she invented for her to play with.

  Emma tied the two characters together as brother and sister. She also set the boundary of the garden right at the edge of the forest so that Flora and Hawk could take time out to visit with each other as they went about their activities.

  Simon, of course, focused on Hawk’s adventures, setting him off in search of lost treasure.

  Whenever it came back to Callie, however, she would deftly weave the threads of the story back together and set it dramatically off on a new course before her two minutes were up.

  They were still going strong when the outskirts of town came into view.

  As the wagon rolled past the burned out remains of the café, all talk ceased.

  Jack cast a quick glance at the three children and saw Simon’s clenched jaw, Emma’s downcast eyes and Annabeth’s quivering lower lip.

  He should have come into town by a more roundabout route, he realized with regret. So what if they were a little late?

  The kids shouldn’t have to face this reminder again.

  Another black mark on his parenting record.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack cleared his throat, not quite sure what to say, but knowing the kids needed a distraction.

  A quick glance Callie’s way confirmed that she shared his concern. She pasted a smile on her face and turned back to the children. “Well, there’s the church and it looks like we made it on time. Simon, isn’t that your friend Bobby there by the steps?”

  As if to reinforce her words, the bells started pealing and the small crowd that had been gathered out front began to make their way inside.

  Callie adjusted her bonnet, facing forward again. “Thank you, children. You are amazing storytellers. And thank you,” she said turning back to him, “for the loan of your watch.”

  He accepted his timepiece back, mouthing a quick, “Thank you.”

  She merely nodded as she smoothed her skirt.

  A few other latecomers were still making their way inside when Jack pulled the wagon up to the hitching rail.

  “Simon, you help the girls down,” Jack instructed as he secured the horse.

  He knew what his role was today and he was determined to play it well. If only to prove that Callie wasn’t the only one capable of making the best of an uncomfortable situation.

  He helped her down, then offered his arm. He placed his hand solicitously over hers as he escorted his new family into the church. The fourth pew on the right, the one the Tyler family had occupied all during his growing up years, was vacant. Apparently the townsfolk still favored their same seats, Sunday after Sunday.

  Jack sat through the opening of the service, fighting the urge to leave. The only thing he actually looked forward to was the singing. With his mother serving as church organist, there had always been music in his home, especially hymns. He remembered many an evening spent with her playing their old upright piano while the family sang along.

  It looked like one of Mrs. Friarson’s daughters played the organ now. Was it Cora or Ruby? They were both several years younger than Jack and he hadn’t ever been able to keep them straight, even when he lived here. He reached for one of the hymnals and held it so that he and Callie could share it. But when the Friarson girl struck the first few chords and the congregation launched into song, Jack forgot all about identifying the musician.

  Callie�
�s voice was amazing. Strong and clear, it had an almost haunting purity to it. There was beauty there, beauty that went beyond any surface definition. He found himself using the shared hymnal as an excuse to lean closer, brushing shoulders with her as he let that wonderful voice wash over him.

  It was only when the music had stopped and he saw the faint blush on her face that he realized how transparent he’d been. Jack adjusted his jacket as he faced forward.

  No real harm done. If anyone in the congregation had noticed, they would put it down to the fact that he and Callie were newlyweds. And hopefully Callie would assume that he was just playing his part.

  But he’d have to watch himself. That little twitch of attraction had been a mite too real for comfort.

  Later, as they exited the church, Reverend Hollingsford shook Jack’s hand. “It was good to look out over the congregation this morning and see you seated in your brother’s place with your family all around you.”

  Jack nodded, trying to keep his smile friendly. So, even the pew had become Lanny’s rather than the Tyler family’s.

  As soon as they made it past the reverend, the kids ran off with some of their friends, and Virgil called Jack over to join a discussion with several of the other menfolk.

  While he talked, Jack kept a close eye on Callie. Just to make sure she didn’t feel abandoned or lost in the crowd, he told himself.

  But Mrs. Mayweather and Ida Lee had drawn her into discussion with a circle of friends, and as long as they stayed close, he knew Callie would be all right.

  “By the way,” Mr. Dobson said, claiming his attention, “Lanny had talked to me about placing an order for a new strain of corn he was thinking about planting next year. We were all pretty interested in watching how it went. You planning to follow through with that?”

  “I don’t know. Hadn’t really given it any thought.” Jack wasn’t ready to tell these folks he wouldn’t be sticking around that long. It somehow didn’t feel fair to Callie to announce the day after their wedding that he was planning to leave in a few weeks.

  Then again, it was probably better to start dropping a few hints so folks could get used to the idea and not think anything objectionable had happened between the two of them when the time came. “Besides,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I may end up going back to my old job once I get Callie and the kids settled in. I have a family to support now, after all.”