The Hand-Me-Down Family Read online

“They might feel differently.”

  “As you’ve said before, they’ll adjust.” She leaned forward. “Starting tomorrow, you can sleep a little later in the morning.”

  “Look, I know you mean well, but I think I’m the best judge of how much I can and can’t handle. If I—”

  “I’m certain you’re just stubborn enough to continue this pace, even if it wears you plumb out.”

  Hah! She was one to talk about stubborn.

  “But,” she continued, “I’d prefer not to have to nurse you back to health when you work yourself to the point of collapse.”

  He poured a cup of coffee, as much to give himself a moment to think as anything else. When he turned around, she still wore that determined expression.

  “All right. I agree it would be good for the children to take on a bit more responsibility for keeping this place running. So if you think you can manage getting them to toe the mark—”

  “And there’s something else.”

  Of course there was. “And that would be?”

  “You need to spend more time here at the farm.”

  He set his cup down with enough force to splash a few drops onto the table. “You just said you wanted to take on more responsibility for the place.”

  She waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t mean to help with the chores. You need to spend more time with the children.” Her expression softened. “They’ve hardly seen you these past few days. I want them to be able to spend time with you, to develop a real relationship with you—and you with them—before you go running back off to wherever it is you’re heading when you leave here.”

  Whoa. She hadn’t really thought this through. “Actually, I thought it would be better all the way around if they don’t get too used—”

  She lifted her chin again. “You said you owed it to Leland and Nell to see that their children were well-cared for. And also that it was important for blood kin to be close. That’s why we ended up in this marriage, remember?”

  “Of course I remember. But—”

  “Well, you can’t see to any of that if you’re never here.”

  Blast the woman, there she went, trying to twist his words back on him. “And I suppose you have something in mind to make everyone happy.”

  “I do.”

  That I’ve-got-it-all-figured-out tone set his teeth on edge.

  “Go to town in the mornings,” she elaborated. “It’s the coolest part of the day, and the children will be busy with their own chores. But come home for lunch, and stay. There are things you can do here, and I don’t mean chores.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as take Simon fishing. Such as teach Annabeth about the wildlife around here. Such as walk in the woods with Emma to find things she can sketch.”

  Her passion for the children lit a fire in her eyes that was something to see.

  She threw up her hands as if exasperated. “Tell them stories about when you and their parents were children growing up here. Let them know you really care about them, not just that you feel responsible for them.”

  She was pushing this just a little too far. “Look, I’m more of the loner type than the jovial fatherly sort.”

  Her expression rivaled Mrs. Mayweather’s for sternness. “Then just pretend.” She planted both elbows on the table and laced her fingers. “Those children need you, maybe more than they need me. And you know as well as I do that it’s what Leland and Nell would have wanted.”

  She just didn’t play fair.

  He stood up from the table. “I’ll think about it.”

  She rose as well and gave him a meaningful look. “And I’ll continue to pray about it.”

  No, she didn’t play fair at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Callie pinned the last bit of laundry to the line strung under the rafters in the washroom. The rain had started a little over an hour ago, just about the time she’d run the last of the clothes through the wringer. It certainly was nice to have such a wonderful arrangement inside for rainy days.

  She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, glad to have the Monday morning chore over with. She hoped Jack had had sense enough to find shelter to wait out the rain. But knowing him, he was ignoring the weather and still pounding nails into boards.

  She stepped into the kitchen and checked the stew simmering on the stove, then went in search of the children.

  She found them on the front porch, staring glumly at the water dripping from the eaves. Gil was visiting this morning, so there were four pairs of eyes that turned to her, ready for a distraction.

  They looked like woebegone waifs. This wouldn’t do at all.

  She crossed her arms. “Surely you can find some way to amuse yourselves even if you can’t leave the porch.”

  “It’s been raining forever,” Annabeth wailed. “When is it going to stop? I want to take Cinnamon for a ride.”

  “You’ll just have to be patient.” Callie gave them a bracing smile. “Come on now, what will it be? A game of jackstraws, perhaps? Or maybe charades?”

  “You can read us some of the story,” Annabeth suggested hopefully.

  “But it’s not even lunchtime yet.”

  Gil immediately followed Annabeth’s lead. “Oh, yes, please, Mrs. Tyler. Simon’s been telling me about the story and it sounds like an exciting tale.”

  She stared at the four hopeful faces and her resistance crumbled. “Oh, very well. Emma, would you fetch the book, please?”

  Callie read for twenty minutes, then finally closed the book. “That’s enough for today. It looks like the rain has stopped and I need to check on lunch.”

  “That’s one rip-roaring tree house,” Gil said. “Sure is clever the way they turned bits and pieces of wreckage into a bang-up place to live.”

  “Yeah,” Simon agreed. “I wish we had something like that around here.”

  Callie paused in the act of getting up.

  Gil popped up and placed both hands on his hips. “If we did, we could spend our afternoons planning our own adventures.”

  “And designing special devices to furnish it with.” Simon’s voice had more energy in it than Callie had heard in a long time.

  “Why not?” she asked impulsively.

  The children looked at her as if she’d just sprouted antlers.

  “Ma’am?” Gil’s one word question hung in the air for a second while all four children seemed to hold their breath.

  “Why not build a tree house?” she elaborated. “That big oak out back is the perfect place for one. And Simon, you’re good at building things.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “Do you think we really could?”

  Callie felt her heart warm at the eager look on his face. Maybe, just maybe, he could learn to see the appeal of life in the country after all. “Well, we’d have to ask your Uncle Jack, of course. And I don’t think we could do anything as elaborate as the one in the book.”

  “But we could design it ourselves and add whatever features we like.” Simon turned to Gil. “I know Uncle Jack has some old crates in the barn we could use, and maybe some kegs, too. How about your dad?”

  Annabeth clapped her hands. “A tree house! I want to help.”

  Simon crossed his arms with a sniff. “You’re a girl.”

  “Girls can build things, too.” Annabeth turned indignant eyes toward Callie. “Can’t they?”

  “Of course they can, sweetheart.”

  Simon wasn’t happy with that answer. “Gil, help me here. Tell them this is men’s work.”

  Callie tried to soothe the boy’s ruffled feathers. “Simon, remember in the book, it wasn’t just the tree house itself that had to be built. There were furnishings, too. I was thinking the girls could work on some of those things.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” Gil said quickly.

  Simon nodded reluctantly. “I guess so. But no frilly stuff.”

  “No frilly stuff,” Callie promised. “And remember, we need to clear this with your Un
cle Jack first.”

  Too late Callie realized she probably shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up before she spoke to Jack about it. If he objected to the scheme, she was going to have some very disappointed children on her hands. Because the four would-be adventurers were already putting their heads together, discussing plans for the tree house.

  To her relief, once Jack was able to sort out the gist of the idea from the eager babblings of the children, he gave his stamp of approval to the plan. But he had a few stipulations.

  “Before I say yes, there are some ground rules we need to set. For one, your chores come first. No work gets done on the tree house until that’s taken care of.”

  Three heads nodded agreement.

  “And I’ll have to talk to Gil’s dad and make sure he’s okay with Gil taking part.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Wilson will be okay with this,” Simon offered.

  “Still, I want to talk to him first. Now Simon, you and Gil will be in charge of collecting most of the materials. I’ll help where I can, but this is going to be your project. You can clean out a corner of the barn to store things in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If you boys want to come to town with me one morning this week, you can dig through the scrap pile and see if there’s anything there you can use.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Next time Gil comes around we can all sit down and draw up some plans. Then you can start work.”

  Once the children were down for the night, Callie stepped out on the porch. It felt good to have this little ritual back.

  She’d missed their talks, discussing the children and the day’s events, making plans for the coming days.

  When had she started looking forward to it so much?

  “The children are excited about the tree house. I could hardly get them to settle down tonight.”

  “I understand it was your idea.”

  She gave a little half-grin, not certain if that was approval in his voice or something else. “They were talking about the tree house in the book and I saw how excited Simon was. It’s the first time I’ve seen him take a real interest in something other than moving to town. I couldn’t help myself.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry if I put you on the spot.”

  He shook his head. “Actually, I think it’s a great idea. The boy has a natural skill when it comes to using tools, and this will give him a sense of responsibility to go along with it.”

  “I’m glad Gil will be working with him on this. The two have become good friends. Maybe he won’t miss his friends in town so much.”

  “So, are you going to fill me in on the latest chapter of our adventure story?”

  Callie smiled and gave him a quick recap.

  “Just another couple of days and we’ll finish Swiss Family Robinson,” she added when she’d finished. “I think the children will really be disappointed.”

  “I admit I’ll miss it myself.”

  Callie smiled. “Don’t worry. I have some others you’ll all enjoy just as much.”

  “Do you, now?”

  She ticked them off on her fingers. “There’s Around the World in Eighty Days and Tom Sawyer. Then there’s a new book about a detective named Sherlock Holmes, and one about an undersea adventure. And at least a half dozen others.”

  “Quite a collection.” He gave her a searching look. “These all come from your personal library?”

  She reddened slightly. “Actually, I bought them as a wedding gift for Leland. Julia had mentioned once how much he enjoyed reading adventure stories.”

  His hands stilled and she couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. “I thought your grandfather’s pocket watch was your wedding gift for Lanny.”

  She didn’t detect anything other than mild curiosity in his tone. But she had a feeling there was something stronger behind the question. “Now, why ever would you think such a thing?”

  He ignored her question. “If you didn’t intend to give it to Lanny, why did you give it to me?”

  This time she heard a hint of accusation. “I told you, it was a keepsake from my grandfather. I—I wanted to give you a gift that fit who you are.”

  “Oh.”

  She tilted her head to one side, trying to read between the lines. “Is that why you didn’t like it? Because it wasn’t bought specifically for you? I didn’t feel right giving you something I’d bought for Lanny. That seemed a bit wrong somehow. But there wasn’t time to order anything, and I really wasn’t certain what—”

  He cut her off. “It’s not that I didn’t like it.”

  “Then what?”

  He went back to his whittling and she saw a tic at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  He paused, then leaned back against the rail and gave her a long look. “No. I suppose I owe you an explanation.” He raked a hand through his hair. “It was actually because I thought you did bring it to give Lanny.”

  “Oh.” She tried to make sense of that but couldn’t quite.

  He stuck the knife point into the block of wood. “Growing up as Lanny’s younger brother meant I wound up with every item he outgrew. Things he no longer needed or wanted or could fit into became mine. Guess I got a little tired of always ending up with my brother’s hand-me-downs.”

  Of course. She should have realized. “And you thought I was giving you a hand-me-down gift.”

  His grin had a self-deprecating edge. “Yep. I suppose that was a confoundedly fool reaction, even if it had been true. A grown man shouldn’t let something like that get under his skin.”

  “We can’t help how we feel about things.” She of all people knew the truth of that. Almost of its own accord, her hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you something new, something no one had owned before,” she said softly.

  He paused a fraction of a second at her touch, then gave her that crooked smile. “Don’t go apologizing. It was a fine gift, even more so because it had such value to you.”

  She removed her hand somewhat awkwardly and he leaned back. “I suppose it’s really me who should apologize to you. I didn’t even thank you proper.”

  She wondered what he thought of her touching his shoulder. Had she given away too much? “Why don’t we just call it even then?”

  “Okay by me.”

  Callie decided she really liked Jack’s smile, especially when it was focused on her.

  Twenty minutes later Callie climbed the stairs to the second floor. She and Jack had stayed out chatting later than usual.

  She paused as she passed the girls’ room. What was that sound?

  There it went again.

  Just a hiccup.

  She started to move on, then stopped again. That was a muffled sob.

  Callie quietly opened the door and slipped inside the room. All was quiet now.

  Had she imagined it? Or was one of the girls making sounds in her sleep?

  Letting her eyes adjust to the dark, she studied the forms of the two girls. Annabeth was sprawled with abandon across her bed.

  Emma, however, was lying on her side, body curled and facing away from the door. Callie crossed the room and stood over her.

  “Emma, honey,” she said softly, “what is it? Are you sick?”

  Emma shook her head, still not turning to face Callie.

  “Having a bad dream then?”

  Again a shake of the head.

  Poor dear. She was probably missing her parents. Should she force her to speak about it?

  Callie sat down on the bed and gently pushed the hair from the child’s damp forehead. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Emma finally looked up and met Callie’s gaze. The despair filling those teary eyes was almost more than Callie could bear.

  “Oh, Aunt Callie, I’ve done something awful.”

  The broken words tore at Callie’s heart. “Sweetie, whatever it is, I know it can’t be as bad as you’re imagining.”


  “You don’t know.” Another sob escaped her. “Everyone would hate me if they knew.”

  Annabeth stirred and rolled over.

  Callie stood and pulled the covers from Emma. “Come on,” she whispered, “let’s go down to the kitchen so we don’t wake your sister.”

  Emma took Callie’s outstretched hand and slipped out of bed. She allowed Callie to lead her from the room, much as a doomed prisoner would follow along behind his executioner.

  Callie led her to the kitchen and seated her at the table. “Now you sit here while I fix us a little treat.” She kept talking, careful to keep her back to Emma, giving the child time to compose herself. “I believe we have a little cocoa left in the pantry and I think this is a good time to bring it out.” She retrieved two cups and filled them with warm water from the kettle on the stove. “The secret to a good cup of chocolate is to add a touch of vanilla and a touch of peppermint oil.” After she’d mixed the aromatic drinks, she carried them to the table.

  “Before you say anything, I want you to understand that there is nothing you could possibly have done that will make me hate you. And no matter what it is, you know that God will forgive you and call you His beloved.”

  “But you don’t know what—”

  “Then tell me.”

  Emma placed her hands around her cup but didn’t drink.

  Finally she took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob.

  “The fire was my fault.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Callie fought to keep her expression serene. What a terrible burden for a child to carry. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?”

  “Because it’s true.” Emma’s voice trembled.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Emma sniffed, then nodded. “Momma had bought some pretty new candles that smelled real nice. They were supposed to be used for special occasions, but I was grumpy about not getting the new colored pencils I saw at Mr. Dobson’s store.”

  She looked up with pleading eyes. “I was really careful about where I placed the candle, I promise. And it did make me feel better. Then Simon came in to say he was taking me and Annabeth over to see the new foal at the livery and I forgot all about the candle.”