The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 21

  The rumblings from the crowd seemed to support the shopkeeper’s story.

  Callie ignored them. “Simon, I’m certain you can explain to Mr. Dobson how this came to be.”

  Simon nodded emphatically, swallowing hard. “Yes, ma’am. I was on my way to Mr. Lawrence’s shop to get the sheepskin I wanted. But when I passed by this alley I heard A—” he cleared his throat “—I heard someone running and then I saw this sack on the ground with something moving inside.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I just wanted to see what it was.”

  There were more murmurings of disbelief. Callie ignored those as well.

  But Simon’s expression took on a desperate edge. “I give you my word, that’s all it was. I didn’t let those squirrels loose in Mr. Dobson’s store, honest.”

  “I believe you, Simon.” She turned back to Mr. Dobson. “You see, it was all a misunderstanding. I told you Simon is not the sort of person to do such a thing and then lie about it.”

  The man hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his vest and rocked back on his heels. “Mrs. Tyler, surely you don’t believe such a preposterous story.”

  She drew herself up. “I sincerely hope you are not calling my son a liar.”

  The man’s expression took on a self-righteous edge. “Look, I know the boy has had some hard things to deal with, what with the death of his folks and all, but that’s no excuse for—”

  Callie felt Simon stiffen, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “No one is making excuses here, Mr. Dobson. We are simply saying that you are mistaken.”

  “Mrs. Tyler is correct.” Reverend Hollingsford stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. “The boy’s telling the truth.”

  “Reverend?” Mr. Dobson pushed his glasses up again, and shifted his weight. “With all due respect, sir, how can you know that?”

  The minister made a slight bow in Callie and Simon’s direction. “My apologies for not speaking up sooner. But everything happened so fast, I’m just now sorting things out in my head.”

  He turned back to the shopkeeper. “To answer your question, I walked into the mercantile right after the hubbub started. But I remember now that just before I stepped inside—and this was after I heard Mrs. Collins’s shriek—I saw Simon walk toward the alley, and he was empty-handed.”

  Callie felt a swell of vindication fill her chest. “If you won’t believe me or Simon, surely you will take the word of the good reverend here. Now, I believe you have something to say to my son.”

  Mr. Dobson cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose, given what the reverend just said, maybe I was mistaken after all.”

  He paused, and Callie raised a brow.

  The man’s face reddened slightly, but he nodded. “Sorry, Simon.”

  When the boy just stood there with a mutinous expression on his face, Callie gave him a little nudge. “Simon?”

  He shot her a quick glance, then swallowed his glower and returned Mr. Dobson’s nod. “I accept your apology, sir.”

  Now that the confrontation was over, Callie was suddenly acutely aware of the crowd gathered around them. The urge to move away from the eye of the storm pressed in on her. “If you will excuse us—”

  But Mr. Dobson wasn’t quite done. “Just a minute.”

  She tilted her head. What now?

  He frowned down at Simon. “You said you saw someone running out of the alley. Did you see who it was?”

  Simon ducked his head and rubbed his palm on the leg of his pants, but not before she saw the quick glance he cut toward the edge of the crowd. Following his gaze, she saw his friends Abe and Bobby watching him carefully.

  Simon looked up again. “I never did see their faces.”

  Was she the only one who noticed he hadn’t actually answered the question?

  But apparently Mr. Dobson was ready to move on. He turned to the rest of the crowd, quizzing those nearest him to find out what they might have seen.

  “Come along, Simon.” Callie kept her hand protectively against his back. “Let’s find your sisters. It’ll be time to head back to the house soon.”

  Simon didn’t wait to be told twice. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When she turned, Callie spotted Jack standing across the street, looking pleased.

  Now why had he just stood there instead of jumping into the fray? Surely he could have handled the situation quicker and with more decisiveness than she had. She couldn’t believe Jack had been reticent about facing down Mr. Dobson. So what reason did he have for leaving it in her hands?

  Before Simon caught sight of him, Jack turned and headed back to the building site. Following his cue, Callie didn’t give any sign she’d spotted him.

  Simon was subdued as they moved away from the crowd. He was undoubtedly feeling self-conscious about what had just happened. Thank goodness Reverend Hollingsford had intervened or they might still be at an impasse.

  And what hadn’t Simon said back there when Mr. Dobson questioned him about who he’d seen? Had the boy actually witnessed his two friends running through the alley, or did he just suspect it had been them?

  She felt a strong urge to discuss the whole situation with Jack, to get his take on what they should do next, if anything. But that would have to wait until they were alone.

  “Aunt Callie?”

  Callie pulled the coverlet up over Simon’s chest, trying not to show her surprise. Simon usually rolled over as soon as he crawled into bed, completely ignoring her. “Yes?”

  “Why did you stand up for me today?”

  She didn’t hesitate for a second. “Because I knew you didn’t do what Mr. Dobson said you did.”

  “But how did you know I didn’t do it?”

  “Because you said so.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” She smiled at him as she smoothed the covers. “Simon, I’m not your mother, but I am a good judge of character. And while I know you might not be above pulling a misguided prank occasionally, I am absolutely certain you are above lying to avoid the consequences.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now, time to get some sleep. You’ve had a long day today.”

  The boy searched her face a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” With that he rolled over and shut his eyes.

  Callie studied him a moment before shutting the door. For the first time she felt some hope that he might let her be the stepmother she longed to be.

  She descended the stairs slowly, untying her bonnet as she went. She hadn’t had any time alone with Jack since they left town today. Perhaps now she would get some answers.

  Jack studied the block of wood, examining the grain and contours. There was a certain flow to it that was suggestive of a deer or maybe a horse. He absently began shaping the wood with his knife, waiting for Callie to join him.

  She’d been magnificent today, a lioness protecting her cub. The fact that she was normally uncomfortable being the center of attention hadn’t even seemed to come into play.

  He’d have to admit, Lanny had chosen well after all. He should never have doubted his brother’s instincts.

  Except his brother had planned to relegate her to a spare bedroom. Lanny had wanted a nanny, not a wife.

  For the first time in his life, Jack considered his brother a fool.

  “You did a good thing today,” he said as she stepped outside.

  She grimaced. “Actually, it was Reverend Hollingsford who saved the day, not me.”

  “None of that false modesty now. The good reverend might have pushed the plunger, but you planted the charges and strung the fuse.”

  She grinned. “An interesting way to put it.”

  “Just don’t go selling yourself short.” Jack refused to let her minimize the part she’d played. “You stood up for Simon when he needed a champion. That’s something he won’t soon forget. And neither will I.”

  He saw the blush darken her cheeks. But then she tilted her head and gave him a puzzled look. “Speaking of which, how long were
you standing there and why didn’t you step in?”

  “I arrived about the time you were telling Dobson to get his hands off Simon.” He shook his head. “That was a sight to behold. Just plain stopped me in my tracks.” He couldn’t believe the transformation in her from shrinking violet to fierce protector.

  “But if Reverend Hollingsford hadn’t stepped in—”

  “You would have found another way to convince the crowd Dobson was wrong.” He gave her a straight-on look. “Believe me, if I’d thought you needed help, I would have stepped in. But I never saw the need.”

  In fact, if he’d had any concerns about her ability to look out for the family in his absence, they’d been erased today.

  A not altogether comfortable thought. Because he’d just realized that it meant he wasn’t as needed, wouldn’t be as missed around here, as he’d imagined.

  And that thought didn’t sit well with him at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Uncle Jack.”

  Jack tested the saw blade he was sharpening. “Hmm?”

  “Does Aunt Callie’s face bother you?”

  Jack paused and looked up. Simon’s earnest eyes were focused directly on him and Jack knew his answer was important.

  “I suppose you’re talking about her birthmark.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, my ma and Aunt Julia were both real pretty. Don’t you wish she was more like that? Or at least normal looking.”

  Conscious of the weight of the moment, Jack chose his words carefully. “Your ma was pretty, all right. But did you ever see that scar she had on her arm, all crooked and puckered-looking?”

  “Uh-huh. But that was different.”

  “Why? You can’t deny that it was ugly. Even she thought so. It made her look different from everyone else so she always hid it by wearing long-sleeved dresses.”

  “But that was just a scar.”

  “You think it’s not the same as your Aunt Callie’s birthmark, but that’s only because Nell was your mother and you loved her.”

  Jack leaned forward. “You’re old enough to realize that it’s what’s inside a person that matters. And your Aunt Callie is a loving, generous woman with a good heart. Besides, there are all kinds of beauty, and your Aunt Callie has a beauty all her own. So, no, her birthmark doesn’t bother me, not even a little bit.” In fact, he’d gotten to where he hardly even noticed it anymore. There was so much more about her, things to admire and respect.

  Simon scuffed a toe in the dirt. “Not even when other people make fun of her?”

  So, someone had said something to him, had they? “Well, for one thing, folks around here know better than to make fun of her, or any member of my family for that matter, in front of me. I’d set ’em straight faster than a hummingbird can flit.” He let that soak in a moment, then added, “The same way your Aunt Callie set Mr. Dobson straight yesterday.”

  Simon reddened. “You heard about that?”

  “I witnessed it.”

  That set Simon back. “Then why didn’t you step in? Did you think I was guilty?”

  “Of course not. By the time I got there, your Aunt Callie had it under control. I figured she was doing just fine without me.” He lifted a brow. “Don’t you agree?”

  Simon nodded, and jammed his hands in his pockets.

  Jack set the saw down. “Listen, Simon, this is something that shapes the kind of person you are at the very core. Making fun of people, especially for something they have no control over, is a mean-spirited, cowardly thing to do. Any man worth his salt, a man who considers honor not just a word but an actual way of life—would never indulge in such a thing.”

  “I suppose.” The boy studied the ground as if answers to the secrets of life were inscribed there.

  “Let me ask you a question. Forget for a minute that she has that birthmark. If you think over everything you know about your Aunt Callie firsthand—the things you yourself have seen her do or heard her say—what would you think about her?”

  Simon shrugged.

  Jack tried again. “It’s simple. Just decide whether your life would be better or worse if she’d never showed up in Sweetgum.” He waited, letting the silence draw out.

  “Worse, I guess,” Simon finally answered.

  Jack wanted to clap the boy on the back for taking that small step, but he maintained his solemn demeanor. “So why should a mark on her face, something that’s nothing more than a discolored patch of skin, make any difference in how you think about her?” He picked the saw back up. “You don’t have to answer me, just ponder on that a bit.”

  Jack watched from the corner of his eye as Simon squirmed uncomfortably. He waited until the boy looked at him again and then held his gaze with unblinking firmness. “And I hope if ever anyone does say something mean-spirited about your aunt in your presence, you’ll have the gumption to do the right thing.”

  Jack watched Simon walk away, hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders slumped as if weighted down. He certainly hoped he’d gotten through to the boy.

  Strange. He wasn’t certain exactly when it had happened, but discussing Callie’s looks with Simon just now made him realize that he truly did think of her as beautiful, and not just on the inside. Her appearance was dearer to him than he would ever have believed possible.

  He cherished those moments with her on the front porch in the evenings, moments when she unveiled, both literally and figuratively, and was totally herself and totally at ease with him. Whether she realized it or not, that trust was a precious gift, one he’d come to value dearly.

  And one he was very much afraid he was going to miss keenly when he left.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jack lightly buffed the back of the carved horse with a piece of sandpaper, then rubbed a thumb over the spot. The toy horse was taking shape nicely, if he did say so himself. Annabeth’s birthday was in a few weeks and he could almost picture the smile on her face when she unwrapped the package to find this inside.

  Too bad he wouldn’t be here to see it.

  He pushed aside the twinge of regret.

  One had to make sacrifices to pursue one’s dreams. After all, he had to remember that he’d actually be getting the best of both worlds. He could go off and experience the freedom of his former life, and he could come back here three or four times a year to enjoy a taste of hearth and home.

  Yep. What more could a self-made, independence-loving man ask for?

  Still, he was strangely reluctant to tell Callie that he had almost finished with the house in town.

  When had he become so comfortable with the idea of being part of this family?

  Jack swatted at a june bug.

  Ridiculous thought. As long as he stayed here he would never be anything more than Lanny’s little brother. And he couldn’t go back to that again—he’d worked too hard to establish himself as an expert in his field, someone to be looked up to.

  No, the first of August was around the corner and he’d managed to accomplish what he’d set out to do. He’d settled his debt to his family and saw that the kids were well cared for. He’d even provided a fallback plan for Callie, just in case she was overwhelmed by managing the farm.

  Better yet, things had settled down considerably over the past few weeks. Simon had lost that chip on his shoulder and was turning into a hard worker, Emma smiled much more these days, and Callie—well, Callie was pulling the whole lot of them together into a true family.

  So there really was nothing left to keep him here.

  His thoughts turned to Callie—smiling approval at something one of them had done, sitting on the swing reading to the children, humming while she worked at the stove.

  The sweet way she’d looked at him when he’d kissed her at the stream—

  Stop it! Jack took a deep breath and deliberately turned his focus back to the wooden toy in his hands. He scrubbed the sandpaper across the horse’s neck, smoothing away a rough spot, sweetening the curve.

  What if Callie ask
ed him to stay? What if she didn’t feel ready to handle the farm and the children on her own yet? He couldn’t blame her for that, and he definitely couldn’t just leave her in the lurch if she felt she needed him. In fact, he’d be honor bound to stay.

  He blew away the sawdust. Far be it from him to shirk his duty.

  And what if, unlike everyone else, she saw him as more than a poor imitation of the man Lanny had been?

  Did she ever think about that kiss they’d shared?

  The sound of the screen door opening brought his thoughts back to the present.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever get them settled down tonight.”

  He heard the smile in her voice.

  She sat on the bench, grasping the edges of the seat with her hands and leaning forward as she faced him. “They’re having so much fun with the tree house, now that it’s finished. Not that you’d think it was complete to hear them talk. They’re already thinking of ways to make it even better.” She gave a soft laugh. “I told them to give it a few weeks before they start hammering away again.”

  He likely wouldn’t be here to see that, either.

  “Speaking of finished,” he paused, eyeing the length of one of the horse’s legs, “we’ll be ready for those curtains you’re working on by the end of the week.”

  “Oh.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but other than that showed no emotion. “You’re ready to wrap up your work in Sweetgum, then.”

  “Yep. Just some painting and a few other finishing touches left to go.”

  “So, you’ll be leaving us soon.”

  Her voice was flat, her tone even. What emotion was she trying to hide? Regret? Relief?

  “Unless you need me to stay longer.” He hoped that came out matter-of-factly.

  But she gave an emphatic shake of the head. “I can’t ask that of you. It wouldn’t be fair.” She stood and gripped the porch rail, staring out over the darkened yard. “Besides, the children and I need to learn to make it on our own eventually. More time won’t make that any easier.”