The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 23

  “Not at all. Sometimes I do feel it is such a trial not to be able to just burst out in song. But the voices raised in the worship service should have an angelic quality to them, not a rasping one.”

  Callie stopped and turned to face her friend fully. There was no reason Mrs. Mayweather should think of herself in such unflattering terms. “I am surprised that you of all people should say such a thing. Why, isn’t your voice the one God saw fit to give you? As such it cannot be displeasing to Him. On the contrary, I imagine it would give Him great pleasure to hear you lift it up in praise.”

  “Perhaps.” The schoolteacher gave a wry smile. “But it would hardly be fair to the rest of the congregation.”

  “Nonsense.” Callie waved that objection aside, determined to make her friend see how foolish she was being. “And anyone who thought the less of you for it would not be in the frame of mind they should be in when in God’s house. You should be proud of that which God gave you.”

  The woman nodded thoughtfully. “What an enlightened way of looking at things.” She closed her fan with a snap and gave Callie a pointed look. “You know, that was such a lovely hat Jackson gave you before he left.” She touched her chin with the folded fan, “I wonder why it is you haven’t worn it since?”

  The schoolteacher’s point hit Callie with the force of physical blow. The heat crawled into her cheeks with a relentless sting.

  Mrs. Mayweather smiled, aware that her dart had hit its mark. “It is so much easier to see how others should handle life’s burdens than it is to handle our own, is it not?”

  Callie nodded numbly. Was Mrs. Mayweather right? Had she been hiding behind her bonnet all these years, not out of respect for the feelings of others, but out of vanity?

  How many times had she lectured others as she had Mrs. Mayweather just now on how they shouldn’t be ashamed of whatever talent or burden God had assigned to them.

  She’d been so eager to find the mote in others’ eyes that she’d ignored the beam in her own.

  Oh, Father, I’ve been such a vain, self-righteous fool. Lend me Your strength to follow through and do what I now know is the right thing to do.

  Jack stepped onto the station platform feeling tired and out of sorts. He wasn’t even certain what the name of this town was, only that he needed to switch trains here.

  A check-in at the depot window brought the unwelcome news that he’d just missed his connection and would have to wait until tomorrow afternoon for the next one.

  Hefting his bag, he trudged to the town’s only hotel, which he’d been assured served a decent meal and had clean sheets.

  Up in his room, Jack pulled Callie’s Bible out of his bag. Reading a passage every evening had become a habit. One that, for some reason, he hadn’t wanted to break.

  He opened the Bible and found himself in the book of Psalms. He read the first verse he came to, but his mind was too distracted by other thoughts to really absorb the words.

  Who was reading the verses at home tonight? Callie? Simon?

  Would Callie step out on the porch to look at the stars after she put the kids to bed? Did she miss their talks?

  Surging to his feet, Jack strode out of the room. Maybe finding something to eat would put him in a better mood.

  The next morning, after a restless night, Jack woke to the sound of church bells. Was it Sunday? Still half-asleep, he felt his lips curve in a smile. If Callie were here she’d give him one of those looks that made him feel guilty for even thinking about not attending services.

  Well, why not? He came fully awake and scrubbed his hand across his face as he sat up. He was stuck here until afternoon and he had nothing better to do.

  Jack shaved and dressed quickly, then walked the short distance to the local church. The service was just starting when he slipped inside, and he took a few seconds to get his bearings. It was a much larger church than the one in Sweetgum. But he spotted an empty seat on a pew near the back and quietly slipped in. He received a friendly smile from the elderly couple seated next to him, then everyone faced forward as the organ began to play.

  The first hymn was one he already knew, so he sang along. The choir was good, but he missed the sound of Callie’s voice.

  As the organ stilled, Jack suddenly felt like a fraud. What in the world was he doing? Why had he come here? Was he such a besotted fool that he’d attend a church service just to feel closer to the family he’d left behind?

  Not only was this foolish, it was wrong. This was a place for the worthy to come and find love and fellowship, not for the likes of him.

  Jack had half risen from his seat when the preacher stepped up to the pulpit and opened his Bible.

  “The passage we’re going to study this morning is that of Luke 15, the parable of the lost sheep.”

  There was something about the man’s voice, about his earnest expression, that grabbed hold of Jack, made him sit back down and truly listen.

  He sat through the sermon, listening to the preacher expound on God’s deep desire to reclaim the lost, and His joyful celebration over bringing even the lowest of backsliders back into the fold. The longer he listened, the tighter the vice-like grip in his chest squeezed.

  After the service, he almost ran from the building. He shut himself inside his hotel room and before he’d even realized what he was doing, the Bible Callie had given him was open on his lap and he was turning to the passage the preacher had read earlier.

  And he continued reading, moving from that passage to barely remembered verses that had been so alive for him in his childhood.

  Why had he wasted so much of his life trying to escape something that didn’t matter one jot? So what if he wasn’t the man Lanny had been? So what if no one in Sweetgum ever thought of him as the best at anything?

  To God he was special, the stray sheep that was searched for until found, the prodigal son whose return was not only marked but celebrated.

  And if God truly valued him, why should the rest matter?

  He might not have gotten the answers he wanted to those passionately uttered prayers so long ago, but that didn’t mean God hadn’t been listening. And God had gifted him in the here and now by putting Callie and the kids in his life. Only he’d blindly thrown it all away.

  Was it too late?

  God, I’ve been such a pig-headed fool, trying to impose my will on Yours, to wrest control over my life from You. Not only did I do a lousy job at it in the process, but I blamed You when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted. Are You really willing to give me another chance, a chance to do it right this time? I won’t promise I’ll get it perfect ’cause we both know I’d never pull it off, but I will promise I’ll try with everything I’ve got.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jack stepped out of the stagecoach and hefted his bag. He suddenly felt as nervous as a young buck asking to walk out with the town’s sweetheart.

  It had been ten days. Would Callie be glad to see him? Or just wonder what had gotten into him?

  Well, he wouldn’t find out by standing here.

  Turning toward the livery, he marched quickly down the street, barely pausing to return greetings from the startled townsfolk he passed. He didn’t plan to explain his return to anyone until he’d talked to Callie.

  He stepped inside the stable to find Jessie combing one of the horses.

  “Mr. Tyler!” She patted the horse and stepped out of the stall. “Good to see you back so soon, but I hope that don’t mean something’s wrong.”

  “Nope, everything is fine as far as I know.” Jack set his bag down. “I want to rent one of your horses to ride out to the farm. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”

  “But…” Jessie’s brow drew down in a look of confusion.

  Jack rubbed the side of his face impatiently. “You do have a mount available for rent, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Sure, we have a couple of real fine horses. But, well, if you’re looking for Mrs. Tyler and the kids, they’re here in town.�
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  “Are you sure?” It was Wednesday so it wasn’t market day. Why would they have made the trip to town in the middle of the week?

  “Saw ’em myself not more’n thirty minutes ago. Simon and the girls come by to see Persia.” She nodded toward the corral that adjoined the stable. “If I remember right, one of them mentioned meeting Mrs. Tyler over at Mrs. Mayweather’s place.”

  “Thanks.” Jack half turned, then paused. “Mind if I leave my bag here?”

  “Nope. I’ll keep an eye on it for you.”

  Jack headed back through town, holding himself in check, resisting the urge to break into a run.

  As soon as Mrs. Mayweather’s house came into sight though, he felt his resolve falter.

  This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned this meeting. He’d much rather speak to Callie in the privacy of their own home. But he was done second-guessing circumstances. If this was how it had to be, then this was how it had to be.

  He pushed open the front gate, marched up the walk and climbed the porch steps.

  Mrs. Mayweather answered his knock and smiled. “Why, Jackson, how good to see you back so soon.”

  It certainly didn’t feel like “so soon.” “Thank you, ma’am. I understand Callie and the kids are here visiting.”

  “Sorry, you just missed them. They left not five minutes ago.”

  Jack tightened his jaw in frustration. Another delay.

  No, this wasn’t the way he’d imagined his return at all. But if this was some kind of test, he didn’t aim to fail it.

  “So they’re headed back to the farm then?”

  “Actually, I believe they planned to stop by the cemetery first.”

  The cemetery? Not exactly the most cheerful spot for their talk. But so be it. It only mattered that he find Callie quickly.

  He tipped his hat. “Thanks.”

  “Jackson.”

  Jack had already turned to leave, but he reined in his impatience and turned back. “Yes, ma’am?”

  Her smile was warm and knowing. “Welcome back.”

  Jack gave her a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

  This time he took the shortcut through Tom Bacon’s cow pasture. And he pitied any bull that tried to get in his way.

  He finally rounded the corner of the church house and drank in the sight of the four figures standing in the cemetery.

  At last!

  But as he drew closer, he frowned. They were all standing around Lanny’s grave, even Simon and Emma, and he noticed a large bouquet of fresh flowers had been placed next to the grave marker.

  Was Callie still mourning the man she had come here to partner with, the man he would never be?

  His steps slowed, then stopped, as all the old insecurities flooded back.

  Perhaps returning here had been a mistake.

  Then Callie looked up and the unguarded joy that flooded her face reassured him, setting his feet in motion again.

  It took a second for the change in her to register. She wasn’t wearing one of her stuffy poke bonnets. Here in town, in full view of even the most casual of passersby, she had chosen to wear a pert little hat that sat high on her head and completely revealed her face.

  So, the caterpillar had finally shed the last of her cocoon. And what a sweetly special butterfly she made.

  The kids finally noticed his presence, and with whoops, ran to greet him. Callie followed at a slower pace, her gaze never breaking contact with his.

  Only when Annabeth grabbed him around the knees did he look down.

  “Uncle Jack!” Annabeth’s voice was nearly a squeal. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Little Bit.” He put a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder and pulled Emma into the hug as well. He smiled at Simon, including him in the greeting. “All of you.”

  “Did you come here for daddy’s birthday, too?”

  Of course. It was Lanny’s birthday.

  And Callie, being Callie, would make a special event of it, for Annabeth’s sake.

  “Actually, I came here to find all of you,” he said, “but it being your daddy’s birthday just makes it all the more special.”

  “Welcome back,” Callie said, smiling.

  “Thanks.” His arms ached to reach for her, but he managed to refrain. “I like the hat.”

  She raised a hand to touch the saucy concoction. “Why, thank you kindly, sir. It was one of Julia’s. I find I share her taste, in hats, at least.”

  “Are you here for a long visit?” Emma’s voice held a hopeful note.

  Jack glanced down at his niece. “I’m not sure yet.” He looked back at Callie. “It depends.”

  He pulled a couple of coins from his pocket. “Simon, why don’t you take the girls down to the mercantile and the three of you can pick out some penny candy. Your Aunt Callie and I will meet you at the buggy later.”

  Simon looked from Jack to Callie, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Take your time. I’ll watch the girls ’til you two get there.”

  Callie couldn’t stop looking at him. She still couldn’t believe it. He’d come back!

  He said he’d missed them. Was that all it was? Dare she hope there was something much deeper going on here?

  He offered his arm and she placed her hand there, feeling suddenly tongue-tied.

  “Let’s have a seat, shall we?” He swept an arm toward the bench beneath the cottonwood. “We have some things to discuss.”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and let him lead the way.

  A moment later, he seated her on the bench, then sat beside her. “I missed you.”

  She tried not to read too much into that statement. One could miss good friends. “I missed you, too. The porch feels much too empty in the evenings since you’ve been gone.”

  He smiled, then ran a hand through his hair.

  “Callie, there’s something I need to tell you, a confession of sorts.” He took a deep breath. “All my life I’ve known I was second-best to Lanny, never quite good enough to meet the standard he set. It’s the real reason I left Sweetgum eleven years ago. I even think it’s why I proposed to Julia. A part of me knew she loved Lanny and I wanted to claim her for myself.”

  Why was he telling her this? What did it have to do with his reason for coming back? But if it was reassurances he wanted…

  “You’re not—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Hush and let me finish. I was so jealous of Lanny that I let it eat at me until I lashed out at him. The last words I said to him were said in anger. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my days.”

  She touched his arm in sympathy, aching to ease his pain, but remained quiet, as he’d requested.

  “I had a hunger to find someplace where I could be the best at something, could be respected for myself, the way Lanny was here. I knew it was vain and wrong, and that it was unchristian. So I quit praying, closed myself off to God, and hardened my conscience.” His jaw tightened. “And I thought I found what I’d been seeking when I formed my own company and gained the respect of my peers. But I was wrong. You, sweet, dear Callie, helped me to see that.”

  This was torture. Couldn’t he see she wanted something much deeper than his gratitude?

  “Over the past few days I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and a lot of praying.”

  Callie’s pulse jumped. Praying! “Oh, Jack.” She breathed more than said the words, giving his hand a squeeze. Suddenly her own desires seemed selfish and insignificant.

  He smiled. “Yes, I’ve finally come to my senses. Thankfully our God is a God of patience and forgiveness, because it took a long time to get the truth of His Word through this thick head of mine. It’s not Lanny’s standards I need to measure up to, I understand that now. God has given us each our own unique talents and gifts, and we should focus on using them in ways that best serve Him.”

  “Jack, I’m so happy for you.” It was ironic how they’d both had similar revelations that had come to them only after they’d been apart.

>   He sat there in silence a long time, his gaze distant, his mind seemingly miles away.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Jack, I’m very happy you shared this wonderful news with me. But I have to know, was that the only reason you came back?”

  He gave a crooked grin. “I can always count on you to fill the silences.” Then he sobered and took her hand. “I came back because I couldn’t stay away. Not from this place. Not from those kids.” He touched her cheek. “Not from you.”

  She wanted to lean into his hand, but dared not. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil the moment.

  “Here is where I belong. Because I realized something else while I was away.” He squeezed her hand. “Callie, I love you. I think a part of me has loved you since you sat right here that first day, looking so brave and noble with your chin lifted high, letting me stare my fill at your face.”

  Her heart hitched in her chest and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Yes, she’d finally come to accept who she was, but no man—

  “I know I’m not the man you came to Sweetgum looking for, but I’m hoping you can see past that. Because when I’m with you, I feel anchored—not in a hold-me-back way, but in a here’s-where-I-belong way.”

  “No.”

  She saw surprise and then hurt in his eyes.

  He released her hand and shifted his weight away from her. “I see. Well—”

  “I mean, no, I won’t let you do this. It’s not love you feel for me, except perhaps the love of one friend for another. It’s very sweet of you, but it won’t do either of us any good for you to pretend otherwise.”

  “Look at me, Callie.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. “Really look at me. Tell me what you see in my eyes. Is it friendship, or is it the very real love I feel for you from the depth of who I am?”

  His jaw worked. “If you don’t return that love, if what you feel is mere friendship, then just say so and we won’t speak of this again. But don’t dare tell me I don’t love you. Because if you’ll have me, I want to live up to those wedding vows we made—to love and cherish and protect you, until death us do part.”