The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 2

  Callie offered up a quick prayer that Mr. Tyler would arrive soon. He should be the one making the introductions to his neighbors and friends. “I’m Callista Johnson Tyler, his wife.”

  “Wife!” Jack set his bag down with a loud thump and sent a sharp look his companion’s way. “You know what she’s talking about, Virgil?”

  The other man shook his head. “Lanny never said anything about a new wife.”

  They certainly were reacting strongly to her news. She knew Julia had only been gone about four months, but it wasn’t unusual for a widower to remarry so soon, especially when he had a young child to care for.

  For that matter, why didn’t they already know about her? Surely Leland wouldn’t have kept such momentous news from his friends and neighbors? Unless he’d worried she wouldn’t show up.

  Or was there another, more disturbing reason? Her heart beat faster as possibilities whirled through her mind.

  Realizing the men were watching her, Callie tried to hide her confusion behind a confident air. “I’m not certain why Mr. Tyler chose to keep this a secret. Perhaps he was planning to surprise everyone. But be that as it may, I assure you, I am indeed Mrs. Leland Tyler. If you’ll be so good as to tell me where my husband can be found, I’m certain he’ll verify my identity.”

  Jack took another step forward. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first.” He swept an arm toward his companion. “This is Virgil Wilson.”

  She smiled and nodded acknowledgment. “Mr. Wilson.” The name was familiar. Oh, yes, he and his wife owned the farm that adjoined Leland’s. Perhaps he could transport her there if Leland didn’t show up soon.

  The farmer touched the brim of his hat, ducking his head respectfully. “Ma’am.”

  When she turned back to Jack, he was studying her intently, as if trying to read something from her countenance. Holding her gaze, he extended his hand. “And I’m Lanny’s brother, Jack.”

  Brother! Of course—Jack Tyler. Julia had mentioned Leland’s brother in many of her letters. It had grieved her friend deeply when the breach had grown up between the brothers, and even more so when Jack had left Sweetgum and all but cut himself off from his family and friends.

  No wonder he was startled by her news. If he was just now returning to Sweetgum after all these years, of course he wouldn’t know about Leland’s second marriage.

  Feeling her anxiety ebb, she grasped his outstretched hand eagerly. “Then you are my brother-in-law. I’m so very pleased to meet you.”

  She smiled, relieved and happy. Jack Tyler. Perhaps he was part of her mission here—maybe she could help heal whatever rift existed between the two brothers. Julia would have wanted that.

  When her newfound relation released her hand, Callie adjusted her bonnet again. “If I’d realized who you were, I would have waited before I said anything. I’m certain your brother wanted to tell you himself.”

  “No harm done.” His expression, however, hinted that all was not well. Did he resent hearing about the marriage from a stranger?

  “Well, it’s a wonderful circumstance that we should arrive together.” She was more certain than ever that the Lord’s hand was in this. “Since your brother is delayed, perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me to his home.” Surely he couldn’t refuse her request, no matter what rift existed between himself and Leland.

  But Mr. Wilson intervened, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid that—”

  Without taking his eyes from Callie, Mr. Tyler interrupted whatever his friend was about to say. “Leland isn’t at home right now.”

  The hairs at the nape of Callie’s neck prickled.

  There was something strangely intense about the look he was giving her.

  And how would he know Leland wasn’t at home when he’d only just arrived in town himself?

  Chapter Three

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jack saw the uneasy flicker in the woman’s expression. Fair enough. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of her, either.

  How was he supposed to believe her claim that Lanny had married again, had replaced his first wife with someone so unlike the vibrant, delicate and pretty-as-a-spring-meadow woman Julia had been?

  Not that this woman was unattractive. He couldn’t see much of her face, but she had a nice enough smile and a trim figure.

  But she wasn’t Julia.

  In Nell’s last letter she’d mentioned how hard a time Lanny was having dealing with Julia’s passing. It was one of the reasons Jack had been thinking about making a visit home.

  This remarriage thing just didn’t make sense.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” He tried to keep his voice even. No point fanning her distrust. “I know you have questions. To be honest, I have a few for you as well. But it’s a mite hot out here on the sidewalk.”

  He nodded toward the open door to the hotel. “Why don’t we step inside and find a more comfortable place to talk.” Not to mention less public.

  He saw her hesitation and spoke up again before she could object. “I’m sure Virgil won’t mind watching our bags while we figure this out.”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am.” Virgil gamely followed his lead. “I mean, no, I don’t mind at all. You two just go right ahead. And take your time. I mean, you have a lot—”

  “There, that’s settled.” Jack used his best take-charge tone to cut off Virgil’s rambling. He wanted to give her the news his way, in his time.

  He pointed to the trunk and carpetbag still sitting on the sidewalk. “So, are these yours? We’ll just set them with mine over here out of the way.”

  Once he got her inside they could sort through her story without the whole town looking on. It was a pretty sure bet that once he told her why Lanny wasn’t here to meet her there was going to be a scene of some sort.

  Which was another good reason to get her inside—it would be right handy to have her already seated in case she decided to swoon. He just hoped she wasn’t one of those melodramatic females who were prone to hysterics.

  But her lips compressed in a stubborn line. “Just a minute, Mr. Tyler. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my husband is.” She tugged on that bonnet again. “And what exactly did you mean by ‘figure this out?’”

  Just his luck—she was going to be muleheaded. “Ma’am, trust me, you really don’t want to have this conversation out here in the middle of town.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow, trying a bit of intimidation. Couldn’t she see that he just wanted to make this easier on her?

  Rather than backing down, though, the obstinate woman tilted her chin even higher. “It’s a simple question, sir, requiring a simple answer. Where is my husband?”

  Jack dropped his arms and narrowed his eyes. At another time he might have admired her spirit, her stubborn resolve. But not today. He was too tired from four days of travel and frustrating delays—four days of trying to absorb the impact of what had happened—to continue this argument.

  She wanted to know where Lanny was, then so be it. “Have it your way. I’ll take you right to him.”

  “Huh?” Virgil almost dropped the bag he held. “Jack, what are—”

  Jack raised a hand. “No, no, it’s okay.” He gave his friend a tight smile. “I planned to pay a visit when I got here anyway. No point putting it off, and this lady might as well come along.”

  Virgil shot a look toward the far end of town, then shifted his gaze uncertainly from the woman back to Jack.

  Jack clapped him on the shoulder before he could protest again, or worse yet, blurt out something that would set off a scene. “You don’t mind seeing to our luggage while the lady and I take a little walk, do you?”

  “No, of course not. But—”

  “Good.” With a short nod, Jack turned back to Lanny’s self-proclaimed bride and swept his hand out in a gesture that was more challenge than good manners. “Shall we?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she drew her lower lip between her teeth and gave that od
d-looking bonnet another tug forward.

  Jack’s flash of irritation turned inward. There he went, taking his frustrations out on someone else.

  Again.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling wearier than he ever had in his twenty-nine years. He hadn’t had more than the odd thirty-minute nap here or there since he’d gotten that telegram.

  And he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do now that he was here. Just the thought of—

  He shook his head, trying to focus on the current issue. That other business was his problem, not this woman’s. Given the circumstances, she deserved better treatment. “Look, ma’am, I—”

  “Very well.” She spoke over his attempted apology as if he hadn’t opened his mouth. Her spine was rail-spike stiff, all signs of hesitation and uncertainty replaced by an air of determination. “Lead the way.”

  It was Jack’s turn to hesitate. He could tell she was still a bit uneasy and admired her pluck, but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Yes, taking her along would give them a bit of privacy, but it would also put him alone with her when he broke the news. He wasn’t good at dealing with emotional women. And he certainly wasn’t in any shape to deal with one today.

  Then he shrugged. She had to be told, and his gut said she wouldn’t get all hysterical on him.

  “This way.”

  They started down the sidewalk, Jack matching his pace to her shorter stride.

  They walked in silence. Jack kept his eyes focused straight ahead and refused to slow his step, halting any would-be greetings from the folks they passed with a short nod. He wasn’t ready to talk to his former friends and neighbors right now.

  He had to get this over with first.

  He carefully avoided looking at whatever was left of Nell and Jed’s café, but as they drew even with it he could smell the acrid odor of scorched wood and ashes that still lingered in the air, threatening to suffocate him.

  Jack shot a quick glance at the blackened remains in spite of himself.

  A definite mistake.

  Loss and guilt slammed into him again, harder this time, like a fist in the gut. It was as if he’d tossed a stick of explosives into the building himself, leaving this grotesque skeleton of charred timbers and debris.

  He scrubbed a hand along the right side of his face. Perhaps if he’d made plans to come home before now, to make amends. If he had been here when—

  “Pardon me.”

  His companion’s breathless words interrupted his thoughts. A quick glance her way revealed she was struggling to keep up.

  He slowed immediately. “Sorry, ma’am. My mind was on something else.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the charred rubble, then back at him with dawning dismay. “That building, it was the café, wasn’t it?”

  He felt that betraying muscle in his jaw twitch. “Yes.” And just how did she know that?

  Unspoken questions tumbled across her face, a growing dread clouding her eyes. Apparently she knew of the café’s significance to him.

  And to her as well, if she was who she said she was.

  How did she know enough to read the situation from a burned-out building she’d never seen before? Had Lanny really married this woman, this apparent stranger to Sweetgum and everyone here?

  Twice her mouth opened then closed again. For a change she seemed to have nothing to say. Instead, she gave him an assessing look, nodded and increased her pace.

  He spared a moment to ponder over the puzzle this woman presented. In the short time he’d been in her company she’d proven herself to be more stubborn, outspoken and full of spit and vinegar than might be seemly for a female. Yet just now she’d seen no-telling-what in his expression and held back her questions. Not at all the reaction he’d expected.

  The walk through town seemed endless. The closer they got to their destination, the tighter the tension inside him coiled. Everyday sounds like dogs barking and harnesses jangling seemed both magnified and distant. He felt eyes focused on them from every angle. It was as if the two of them were the main characters in some sort of stage play, only he’d forgotten all his lines and even which role he was assigned.

  “Watch your step.” He automatically took her elbow as the sidewalk ended. As soon as they stepped down onto the well-packed dirt path, she withdrew her arm. But not before he felt the slight trembling of her muscles.

  So, the lady wasn’t as composed as she wanted him to think. Was it because she’d already figured out what had happened?

  Or because she still didn’t trust him?

  The main section of town gave way almost immediately to greener expanses. Up ahead was Sweetgum’s schoolhouse. The church was just beyond, close enough that it was difficult to tell where the schoolyard ended and the churchyard began.

  Both of these places had been a central part of his world, his life, at one time. But no more.

  He’d outgrown the schoolroom at sixteen.

  He’d outgrown the church a few years later, when he’d decided it was finally time to get away from Sweetgum and strike out on his own.

  Jack shook off those memories as he led his companion across the schoolyard, past the church building and up to the white picket fence that marked the boundaries of the cemetery.

  He paused and turned to her, removing his hat and raking a hand through his hair.

  She stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed on the neat rows of grassy mounds.

  “Ma’am?”

  She started, and her gaze flew to his.

  Her pallor roused a protective response in him. She looked nearly as white as the ribbon on her bonnet. Jack could see the shock, the inner battle she was fighting between denial and a sickly acceptance.

  Was he going to have to deal with a swooner after all?

  “Steady now.” He took her elbow. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this. But I thought it was better to have a bit of privacy. I—”

  She raised a hand. “No, I understand.” Her gaze slid back to the somberly peaceful green, and she swallowed audibly. “Was it the fire?”

  He nodded.

  “And your sister?”

  Ah, Nell. His sweet, peacemaker of a sister. To die like that…

  Not trusting himself to speak, he pulled the crumbled telegram from his pocket and handed it to her. He didn’t have to look at it again to know exactly what it said.

  The words were burned into his memory.

  Café fire. Nell, Jed, Lanny killed. Please return to Sweetgum earliest possible. Children need you.

  Callie tasted the bile rising in her throat as she read the terse missive. These people were her newly acquired family, the people she had so eagerly looked forward to meeting and befriending. To learn that they had died under such horrific circumstances…

  Everything seemed to go silent, to pull back from her. A heartbeat later her vision clouded over and the earth swayed under her feet.

  “Whoa, there.”

  Mr. Tyler’s hand was under her elbow, steadying her, lending her a measure of strength.

  Sounds and objects came rushing back into focus, racing to keep pace with the emotions that careened through her like water rushing over a fall. Horror at the thought of their deaths, confusion over what this meant for her future, and a guilty relief that her husband had not deliberately shunned her after all.

  She attempted to smile at her concerned brother-in-law. “Thank you. I’m okay now.”

  He raised a brow. Probably worried she’d faint on him.

  “Look, there’s a bench over yonder under that cottonwood.” He nodded his head in the direction of a tall leafy tree. Then he cleared his throat. “Why don’t we sit for a spell? It’ll be cooler in the shade and you can tell me the story of how you came to be married to my bother.”

  Callie glanced toward the cemetery, then nodded. She could pay her respects to Leland after she and his brother had their talk.

  Then she realized how selfish she
was being. These people were his family, his siblings and the people he’d grown up with. “I’m sorry to have made this more difficult for you, Mr. Tyler,” she said softly. “And my condolences on your loss.”

  He nodded silently, leading her across the grounds.

  “When did it happen?” Callie was still trying to take it all in. “The fire, I mean.”

  He released her arm as they reached the bench. “Four days ago.” Both his face and voice were controlled, giving no hint of whatever emotion he might be feeling.

  Then it hit her. She plopped down onto the bench. Could it be?

  She clasped her hands tightly and stared up at him. “Do you know what time?”

  His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Pardon?”

  “At what time did your brother die?” She heard the shrillness of her tone, saw his brow go up. No doubt he thought her hysterical. But right now she didn’t care.

  He lifted a hand, palm up. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I only—”

  “Do you have any idea?” she pressed. “Morning? Afternoon? Please, this is important.” Her heart beat with a dull thumping as she waited for his response. A few hours one way or the other could make all the difference in the world.

  The thing was, she didn’t really know what answer she wanted to hear.

  He scratched his chin. “Virgil did mention the café was nearly empty because it was after lunch…”

  “I see.” She sagged back in her seat, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

  Help me to see Your will in this, Father. Because right now, all I feel is confused and adrift.

  “And just why does the time matter so much?” Jack asked, interrupting her silent prayer.

  Callie dug in her handbag and pulled out a packet of papers. She stared at them for a moment, then held them out to him. “Because, as you’ll see if you look through these documents, your brother and I were married by proxy four days ago. At exactly ten o’clock in the morning.”

  She gave him a humorless smile. “Which means, since the ceremony occurred before the fire, I am indeed a widow without ever having met my husband.”