The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 17

  But there was something else that had tugged at him just now. He’d seen a hint of pain in her eyes, in the slight droop of her shoulders. He itched to find out what had caused it, to see if there was a demon he could slay for her.

  Jack shook his head. Now that was a blamed fool way to be thinking.

  He splashed water from the bedside basin onto his face. Of course, it was natural for a man to want to protect his family. And Callie was part of his family now, the same way the kids were.

  No more, no less.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was already dark Thursday evening when Callie heard the sound of Jack’s return. His work hours seemed to get longer with each passing day.

  Twenty minutes later she watched him leave the barn and head toward the house. Despite his apparent weariness there was a jauntiness to the set of his shoulders.

  Did that mean he’d finished clearing the lot? She hoped so, and not just for the children’s sake. He’d worked so hard to make his deadline, it would be a shame for him to feel he’d failed.

  As she set him a place at the table, she heard him step into the washroom, whistling. Where did the man get that kind of energy?

  By the time Jack entered the kitchen, hair still damp, she had the meal ready for him.

  He inhaled deeply as he took a place at the table. “Smells good. And boy, am I hungry.”

  “You put in a long day today.”

  “Yep, but we finished all the clearing out work.” He scooped up a forkful of potatoes. “In fact, we did better than that. We set down the plank floor for the new building. Those kids won’t even see the scorched earth when they go to town tomorrow.”

  No wonder he seemed so pleased with himself. “My goodness, you did get a lot done.”

  “It wasn’t just me and my crew. Apparently word got around about what I was trying to do and why. Virgil came out today, along with several of Lanny and Nell’s friends.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  He shrugged. “I’d rather have done it myself. But there wasn’t time and these folks were doing it for the kids more than for me.”

  Well, well, Mr. I Don’t Need Anybody was finally learning to accept a bit of help from others.

  When the buckboard turned onto Main Street the next morning, Callie’s gaze immediately locked onto the empty lot where the café used to stand. Instead of ashes and charred timbers, a platform of fresh lumber now marked the spot. In fact, several of the town’s children were using the place as a makeshift playground.

  It was indeed a remarkable transformation. Callie turned to Jack, touching his arm.

  Simon also turned to Jack, disbelief and hope on his face. “You’re rebuilding our house.”

  “Not your house.” Jack’s tone was firm. “It won’t be anything like the building you remember. But yes, I’ve decided to erect a new structure where the old one stood.”

  Simon leaned forward, clutching the back of their seat. “But we can move back to town when it’s finished, can’t we?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But—”

  “One thing at a time, Simon,” Callie said quickly. She didn’t want to mar this outing with bickering and sullen pouts.

  Especially not today.

  Simon’s eyes narrowed rebelliously, but he settled back in his seat without another word.

  Callie closed Mrs. Mayweather’s front gate behind her. Jessie Mills had volunteered to take Annabeth and Emma down to the livery to see Persia, the frisky young colt. Simon had disappeared somewhere with his friends, and Jack was working on his construction project.

  So, once the shopping was done, she’d taken advantage of the free time to visit with her friend, as a gift to herself. The schoolteacher had been as warm and welcoming as ever, and had seemed genuinely interested in the progress the newly-formed family was making. They’d had a lovely talk over a tasty snack of tea and cake.

  But now it was nearly noon. Time to gather the family and head back to the farm.

  Callie found herself humming as she walked along the sidewalk toward the center of town. The day was gorgeous, the family had made it through this first week and God had proven once again what a faithful, loving Father he was.

  So what if she were the only one who knew what day today was? She had blessings enough to make her content without any added fanfare.

  She approached the hedge-lined border of the Pearsons’ front lawn. Unless he’d already joined Jack at the work site, Simon was supposed to be here or at the Thompsons’ home.

  “You really learned how to milk a cow?”

  Callie smiled at the sound of the boyish voice coming from the other side of the tall hedge.

  “Sure, nothing to it.”

  Was there a touch of bragging in Simon’s voice? Quite a change from the tone he’d used when she tried to teach him the skill a few days ago.

  But the other boy laughed. “Next thing you know you’ll be mucking out stalls and pulling stems of hay from your hair.”

  What a snide thing to say! No wonder Simon was so dissatisfied with life on the farm if his friends felt this way. How could she help him learn to—

  “So how is life with Old Miss Splotchy-Face?”

  Callie stopped in her tracks, stunned by the unexpectedness of the name-calling.

  “Oh, you know, she keeps one of those horse-blinder bonnets on all the time.” The sullen tone was back in Simon’s voice.

  “Bet you don’t have problems with varmints on your place.” There was an ugly snicker underlining the words. “All she’d have to do is take off that contraption and anything with eyes in its head would run for the hills.”

  “Yeah. She could scare the sweet out of sugar with that face, all right.”

  Heaven help her, that was Simon’s voice. Was that how he really felt about her?

  She heard the sound of spitting. Then Simon spoke again. “I have to keep an eye on things so she doesn’t pull that bonnet off and scare the girls. You know what scaredy cats they can be.”

  There was more laughter and talk of how silly girls were, then one of the other boys spoke up. “So, are you going to be moving back to town when your Uncle Jack gets done with that new building?”

  “She doesn’t want to.”

  Callie had no doubt the “she” Simon referred to with such venom was herself.

  “But I think Uncle Jack will get her to come around once he’s done. Hey, why don’t we head over to where they’re working? I’ll bet Uncle Jack would let us help if we asked.”

  Callie had only a few seconds to compose herself before the boys came racing out through the break in the hedge a few yards ahead of her. But she managed to school her features, determined not to let them know she’d heard anything amiss.

  Simon saw her first and halted in his tracks. The look on his face was a hodge-podge of embarrassment, defiance and bravado. And maybe just the merest touch of remorse. Or was that only wishful thinking on her part?

  As soon as the other boys saw her they pulled up short as well.

  Bobby Pearson kicked at a clod of dirt with the toe of his shoe. Then he dug his hands in his pockets. “I just remembered, my maw wanted me to refill that old birdbath out back.”

  Abe Thompson looked from Simon to Callie, his eyes as round as saucers and his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Uh, yeah, I probably ought to help you with that.”

  Within seconds it was just Simon and Callie on the sidewalk, facing each other. All through that short exchange, she’d felt Simon’s eyes on her, studying her, no doubt trying to decipher what she might or might not have heard.

  Well, he’d just have to continue guessing.

  She spoke up first. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time we headed back to the farm. Do you think you could run down to the livery and fetch the girls?”

  Guarded relief flashed across his face. Then, with a quick nod, he turned and ran off in the direction of the livery.

  Callie watched him
go. She reminded herself of all that the boy had been through, told herself his display was at least partly show for his friends and that he might not actually feel that way, but her rationalizations didn’t erase the sting of those hurtful words.

  She resumed her walk toward the center of town, but the bounce had gone from her step, and she no longer had the urge to hum.

  Callie tromped past the barn, heading toward the tree line just north of the open field.

  All of the goods from the market had been put away, lunch was long past, and supper simmered on the stove. Emma was sketching. Annabeth was looking at her picture book. Simon and Jack were playing dominoes.

  No one had bothered to do more than glance up and nod when she’d announced she planned to take a walk.

  Which was just as well. She needed to find a place where she could be truly alone, where she wouldn’t be overheard or interrupted. Because she could feel emotions swirling around inside her, emotions that needed to be let out before they overwhelmed her.

  And when she did let loose, it would not be a sight for public viewing.

  Callie reached the tree line and easily found the well-worn trail that provided entrance to the wood. Julia had written about a spot back this way where the trees opened up on a small grassy meadow fed by a narrow stream.

  Sure enough, several minutes later she discovered the flower-dotted swath of green. The stream was little more than a trickle at the moment, but it was sparkling and clear.

  Callie sat near the bank, removed her bonnet and hairpins, and shook her hair free as she raised her face to absorb the warming rays of the sun. Closing her eyes, she deliberately opened her other senses to her surroundings.

  Birds, insects and gurgling water provided lyrical background music. The scents of crushed grass, pine needles and wildflowers perfumed the air. The warmth of the sun and the slight kiss of a breeze caressed her, filling her with a lazy comfort.

  It was peaceful here, every bit as lovely as Julia had described it, and it was a sweet testament to God’s artistry.

  She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on the makeshift prop.

  And found she couldn’t hold back the doubts and dark thoughts any longer.

  Simon’s hurtful words, Lanny’s untimely death, the letter she’d expected from her father that hadn’t come—all this and more tumbled round and round in her mind.

  What if her presence here had actually made things worse for this family instead of better?

  Was she really the mother these children needed or had she stubbornly stood in the way of a more worthy candidate? Had she done them a disservice by making it easy for Jack to eventually leave rather than stay and learn to be a real, day-in-day-out father?

  Oh, but she missed Julia so much.

  Missed being able to pour her heart out to someone who would understand and not judge. Missed getting those wonderful letters with her pithy responses and uplifting advice.

  Missed with a deep-down ache knowing that there was someone in this world who loved her just the way she was.

  Father, I know You love me unconditionally. I know You are with me always and that that should be enough to carry me through the hard and lonely times without complaint. But I’m a wretchedly weak creature. I want to be loved by someone who will share my walk here. Not just be deemed useful or acceptable, but be truly and deeply loved.

  Did admitting such feelings mean she’d failed God as well?

  And then the pent-up sobs came.

  Jack covered the trail in fast, long strides. Where was she? He hadn’t really been paying attention when she’d mentioned going for a stroll. It was only later, when his game with Simon was finished, that he’d thought about how unaccustomed she was to the hidden dangers in this part of the country.

  He wasn’t worried about her getting lost. Even the greenest of city girls could find their way out of so small a wood, and Callie had a good head on her shoulders. But other things could happen out here—a trip and fall that resulted in a twisted ankle or worse, an unexpected encounter with a snake or other critter, a tangle with some painfully spiky thorns.

  He should have known better than to let her wander off by herself.

  Jack stepped into the meadow and paused for a moment as memories intruded of past picnics and games played here with Lanny and Nell. But the sight of Callie seated near the stream quickly brought his thoughts back to the present.

  She was hunched over and her shoulders were shaking. Even from this distance he could hear her sobs.

  Within seconds he’d crossed the meadow and was kneeling at her side.

  Putting a hand at the small of her back, he scanned her form, looking for injuries. “Callie, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

  Her head came up like that of a startled doe. The pain he saw reflected there wasn’t physical, but it was real and bone-deep.

  She made a visible effort to stop the flow of tears, to compose herself.

  As gently as he could, he brushed the hair from her forehead. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Let go.”

  And with a ragged breath, she surrendered her effort, buried her face in his shoulder and let the tears flow.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack held her as she cried, feeling the tears dampen his shirt, feeling the sobs well from deep inside her.

  Had something happened in town today?

  Had he done something to upset her without even realizing it?

  Or was she beginning to realize she wasn’t cut out for this kind of life?

  Whatever it was, it seemed to be tearing her up.

  And this gut-wrenching weeping was killing him. He had to do something—anything—to comfort her. He found himself whispering soothing nonsense to her, stroking her hair, rocking her in his arms.

  Anything to bring her misery to an end. No one deserved to be this unhappy.

  Finally, with one last shuddering gasp, she stilled. He continued to hold her, letting her rest. He liked the feel of her in his arms, the trusting way she clung to him, the way her unbound hair tickled his chin.

  Mostly, he liked the feeling that she needed him, felt safe with him.

  They stayed that way for another long minute, the beating of their hearts the only sounds besides nature’s chorus.

  At last she gave a little sigh and gently pulled out of his embrace. “I’m sorry.” Her gaze didn’t meet his. Instead she raised a not quite steady hand and touched his shoulder where her head had rested. “I’ve gotten your shirt all wet.”

  “It’ll dry.” He titled her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He leaned back on his heels. “It takes a mighty powerful nothing to have an effect like that.”

  She waved a hand. “I was just feeling a bit sorry for myself, is all.”

  “Why?” He stood and pulled a bandanna from his pocket, moving toward the stream, giving her a chance to compose herself.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was husky from all of that crying. “I suppose, with everything that’s happened, I hadn’t really taken the time to mourn Lanny’s passing.”

  The little kick of jealousy Jack felt was unexpectedly sharp. But he was sure there was something else eating at her.

  He squeezed the water out of the bandanna and returned to her side, stooping down next to her again.

  She reached for the bit of cloth but he began to wipe her face himself. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” he asked.

  The flair of guilt in her face was all the answer he needed.

  “I was expecting a letter from my father to arrive today,” she added, twisting her hands in her lap.

  Homesickness then?

  She tried to turn the blemished side of her face away, but he had her chin cupped in his hand and he refused to let her. “You realize you only just sent off your own letter a few days ago,” he reasoned. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll re
spond.”

  She gave a little half smile then. “It’s not a response to my letter I was looking for.”

  He paused in his ministrations, lifting a brow. “Then what?”

  She sighed. “This is going to sound foolish, I know. But today is my birthday.”

  That set him back. He hadn’t marked his own for quite some time, but he knew occasions like that were important to women. “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t—”

  She touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t expect anyone here to even know, much less make a fuss. I just expected the few folks in the world who did know to mark it somehow.”

  She pulled her hand away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, it was quite selfish of me to feel that way since my family celebrated the occasion in advance, before I left Ohio.” She gave him an overly bright smile. “As I said, I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

  Jack could still feel the gentle touch of her finger on his lips, could see the vulnerability behind her smile, could hear the wistfulness beneath her sensible tone. Something strong and instinctive welled up inside him.

  Almost of its own accord, his thumb stroked her chin, and he bent down to give her a kiss. He had intended it to be a quick gesture of comfort and reassurance, nothing more. But her little gasp of surprise caught him off guard, turning it into something altogether different.

  A moment later, he reluctantly pulled back. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.

  He saw the soft wonder in her expression, the way her eyes searched his, looking for answers.

  Answers he suddenly realized he wasn’t ready to give, even to himself.

  What had he been thinking? He didn’t need complications like this in his life.

  Handing her the still-damp bandanna, he stood. “We probably should be getting back to the house. The kids’ll be wondering where we got off to.”