The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 6

  Jack decided he’d faced enough ghosts from his past for one night. He took the stairs two at a time and headed straight for the front door. Stepping out on the porch, he took a deep, soul-cleansing breath. Leaning his elbows on the rail, he listened to the night sounds and stared out at the shadowy forms of the landscape.

  So many reminders, so many pieces of his family’s history—and dreams for the future—encompassed in this building, this place.

  Did it all really belong to Lanny’s widow now? Just because of some quirk of timing that had her married to his older brother for a few short hours before his death?

  If a person really decided to press the matter, he could argue that you couldn’t even call it married.

  But it seemed mean-spirited to challenge her claim. After all, she’d come out here in good faith, pursuing her own dreams, and none of what had happened had been her fault.

  It might be better for all concerned if he offered to buy out her claim on the farm. That way she could either purchase herself a place in town or head on back to where she came from with a nice little nest egg in hand.

  As for the guardianship of Annabeth, Callie would come around on that once he talked to her again. Sure, he didn’t know exactly how he was going to handle raising the youngsters on his own, but he’d find a way. After all, there was no arguing that it was his responsibility to take care of Simon and Emma, so it just made sense for him to take Annabeth as well.

  How much extra work could one little girl be?

  The crux of the matter kept coming down to the fact that he and the kids were blood kin. Even a woman as stubborn as Lanny’s widow was proving herself to be couldn’t deny that they belonged together.

  Yes, that was the best way to go.

  And hang it all, he still believed someone like her just didn’t fit in here in Sweetgum, especially not all on her own. She’d be as out of place as a canary in a hen house.

  Not that the woman lacked spirit. It had taken a lot of gumption for her to make it this far. And she certainly didn’t let the thought of what others might think of that birthmark stand in her way. Yes, all in all, quite a spirited woman.

  Too bad she was so all-fired muleheaded.

  Jack pushed away from the porch rail and jammed his hands in his pockets.

  He’d never met a woman like her. True, it had been a while since he’d spent much time in what his mother used to call “polite company,” but he figured things hadn’t changed all that much. Callie was…well…hang it all, he hadn’t quite figured out what she was, besides being a thorn in his side. And just plain wrong about her rights in regard to Annabeth.

  On the other hand, could he really say the kids would be better off with him than with her?

  Rather than pursue that thought, he decided to turn in for the night.

  Callie gently eased her armload of dirty breakfast dishes down on the counter next to the sink. She started rolling up her sleeves, then paused at the sound of a knock on the back door.

  Mrs. Mayweather, who’d just placed a large kettle on the stove, glanced over her shoulder. “Callista, would you see who that is, please?”

  Callie had a pretty good idea who was on the other side of the door, and she was certain Mrs. Mayweather did as well, but she dutifully wiped her hands on her borrowed apron. “Of course.”

  As expected, she opened the door to find Jack standing there. He had a pail in one hand and a basket in the other.

  “Ah, Jackson, there you are.” Mrs. Mayweather waved him in from behind Callie. “We saved you a bit of breakfast.”

  “Thanks. It sure does smell good.” He lifted his offerings. “I brought some eggs and fresh milk for your larder.”

  Studying his easy smile and friendly manner, Callie decided the man could be something of a charmer when he set his mind to it.

  Mrs. Mayweather obviously agreed. She beamed approvingly as she held out her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll take those and put them away. You go on to the sink and wash up.”

  She nodded to Callie as she passed. “Would you hand him a plate, please?”

  Callie nodded and stepped past Jack, reaching into the cupboard. “Mrs. Mayweather brewed a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  There was a formality about their interactions today, a sort of stiff truce. But at least it was a truce.

  She watched him heap a pile of eggs and two biscuits onto his plate, then he took a seat at the long kitchen table. Simon was still picking at his own breakfast but the girls had finished theirs.

  Annabeth immediately moved to Jack’s side. “Did you see Cinnamon and Taffy and Pepper last night?” she asked before he’d even settled in.

  “Cinnamon, Taffy and Pepper.” Jack drawled the words as he smeared jam on his biscuit. “Some of my favorite flavors. But I’m afraid I didn’t look in the pantry.”

  Annabeth giggled. “They don’t live in the pantry, silly.”

  “They don’t?”

  Callie smiled at the teasing tone in Jack’s voice. Perhaps she’d been wrong about his ability to relate to the children. Maybe she should just step back and let him—

  The memory of his declaration that he wasn’t “the praying kind” interrupted her move toward retreat and stiffened her resolve. It just plain didn’t matter how charming he could be, these children needed her in their lives, too.

  But for now, she’d give him his share of time to create a connection with his nieces and nephew.

  “They’re animals, not food,” Annabeth explained with exaggerated patience. She began to tick them off on her fingers. “Cinnamon is my pony and Taffy is the big yellow cat who lives in the barn and Pepper is our dog.”

  “Oh!” Jack did a good job of sounding surprised. “Well, in that case, yes, I saw all three of them.”

  The child twirled a curl with one pudgy finger. “Do you think they miss me?”

  “I’m certain they do.”

  Emma set her elbows on the table next to Simon. “I have a dog, too.”

  Jack turned his attention to his other niece. “Do you?”

  She nodded her head. “He’s a beagle and his name is Cookie.”

  “Now, would he by any chance be that fine looking animal I saw outside next to Mrs. Mayweather’s carriage house?”

  Emma beamed at the compliment. “Uh-huh. And I had a bird, too. Mr. Peepers. But he…” Her lower lip began to tremble.

  Callie caught the panicked look on Jack’s face and quickly stepped in. “Emma, would you please bring me the empty platter from the stove?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jack gave her a small nod and she felt a warm glow at this ever-so-slight sign of gratitude. Maybe he was finally beginning to see how she could help with the children. Perhaps they could work this whole matter out amicably after all.

  A few moments later he carried his dishes to the sink. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he turned back to the children. “I plan to head back out to the farm to take care of some chores. Why don’t you all come with me? Annabeth, you can visit with your animals. And Emma and Simon, you can take Cookie along and let him run as far and as long as he wants to.”

  Callie stiffened, the glow quickly evaporating. Was he actually planning to take the children and not her?

  Annabeth clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes! Do you think Mrs. Mayweather will let me bring some of her sugar cubes for Cinnamon?”

  “We’ll ask her,” Jack answered. “But I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

  “And Aunt Callie can come, too, can’t she?”

  Bless Annabeth’s innocent little heart.

  Jack cut her a quick glance, that stiff formality firmly back in place. “Yes, of course. That is, if she wants to?”

  Was it her imagination, or did it sound as if he’d rather she declined the invitation?

  She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly. “I need to make a stop at the telegraph office first, but I can’t think of any place I�
�d rather be.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Here we are.”

  Callie breathed a small sigh of relief, glad that she would finally be able to escape the confines of the buggy. The only men she’d been in such close proximity to before were her father and her sisters’ husbands. Jack was a different sort of man altogether, and she wasn’t exactly certain how to talk to him.

  Not that he’d seemed to want to talk. The only conversation during the entire carriage ride had been among and with the children. The two adults had barely said three words to each other.

  She certainly hoped the children hadn’t picked up on the tension between her and Jack. They had enough to deal with at the moment without this added burden.

  She leaned forward as Jack brought the carriage to a stop, forgetting her discomfort in her eagerness to view the homeplace Julia had written about in such loving detail over the years. The house, fronted by rosebushes and shaded on the left by a venerable oak, was as charming as she’d imagined it to be. An oversized swing hung from one end of the roomy front porch, and Callie could picture Julia sitting there with Annabeth beside her, reading stories or doing a bit of needlework.

  And surrounding the place were acres and acres of open farmland, God’s handiwork, uncluttered by people or crowded buildings. Callie wanted to hug herself for the pure joy and sense of freedom it gave her.

  The carriage had barely stopped before Annabeth scrambled down. A gray dog, his coat sprinkled with black spots, bounded up to meet them. Tail-waggingly ecstatic to see a familiar face, he nearly knocked Annabeth over in his eagerness to lavish her with dog kisses.

  Annabeth giggled as she knelt down and hugged the dog. “That tickles.”

  Cookie barked at the duo from the safety of the buggy.

  “Stop that,” Emma chided, scratching the animal’s ears. “You know Pepper is just playing with Annabeth.”

  Annabeth stood up. “Aunt Callie, this is Pepper. Don’t be afraid, he won’t hurt you.”

  “My, but he certainly is an exuberant animal.”

  The girl wrinkled her brow. “Zu-ber-ent?”

  “Ex-u-ber-ent. It means joyful, active in a playful sort of way.”

  Annabeth grinned proudly as she stood up. “Yes, Pepper is very zuberent. If you come to the barn I’ll show you my pony Cinnamon. He’s not as zuberent as Pepper, but you’ll like him.”

  Callie hid a grin. Annabeth had obviously found a new favorite word. “You go on. I’ll be along in a minute.”

  By this time Simon and Emma had climbed down as well. Pepper and Cookie took a moment to check each other out, then started vying for the youngsters’ attention.

  The children ran off toward the barn, the dogs at their heels. Callie watched that beautiful sight until they disappeared around the corner. “It’s wonderful to see them acting like the carefree children they’re supposed to be. Bringing them out here was a good idea.”

  Jack merely nodded as he moved to help her down. Despite the tension between them, his touch was solicitous. There was protectiveness and assurance to be found there.

  But as soon as her feet touched the ground he stepped back and gave her a challenging look, dispelling any notion she might have that his feelings had changed. “So, how much do you know about running a farm?”

  His tone dripped skepticism.

  She refused to let it throw her. “Your brother and I agreed that, besides caring for Annabeth, I would be responsible for the house and vegetable garden, and he would take care of the rest.” She lifted her head. “It was always my intention, however, that with Leland’s help I would learn more over time so I could be a proper helpmeet to him.”

  Jack nodded. “If you plan to live out here, there’s definitely a whole lot more you’ll need to learn. For one thing, there’s the care of the animals. This place has two cows that’ll need milking twice a day, a yearling and a young calf, a half dozen laying hens and a rooster, a mule and a horse—not to mention Annabeth’s pony, the dog and at least one barn cat.”

  He tilted his hat back. “Then there’s the haying, the constant maintenance, like fence mending and upkeep of the house and yard. And how do you feel about mucking out the barn and cleaning out the chicken coop?” He raised a brow. “Of course, if you had the means, I guess you could always hire someone to help out.”

  She lifted her chin, quite aware that he was trying to scare her away. Well, she was made of sterner stuff than that, as he’d soon find out. “Or I could just sell the whole place,” she said giving him a challenging look of her own, “lock, stock and barrel.” She tapped her chin with one finger. “With the proceeds I’m certain I could buy a nice little house in town for me and the children. Something cozier, with no animals and less upkeep.”

  It had been an idle threat, of course. She had no intention of selling the farm. Quite the contrary. She planned to hold on to this little parcel of solitude for all she was worth.

  But to her surprise, he gave an approving nod. “Just what I was thinking. Rather than fight over who has the stronger claim, I think it would be better for all of us if I just bought it from you.” He waved a hand. “As you said, lock, stock and barrel. I’m sure we can reach an agreement over a fair price.”

  Callie frowned. Surely he knew she hadn’t been serious.

  “Besides,” he continued, “this is more than a farm. It’s a Tyler family legacy. My granddad and dad built this place with their own hands. I don’t intend to stand by and see it fall into some stranger’s hands.”

  Did that include her? “Mr. Tyler, I’m very sorry if I gave you the wrong impression just now. I’m embarrassed to admit that I said what I did in a fit of pique.” Which should teach her to guard her tongue more closely. “Selling this place is not an option I’d seriously consider.”

  She tugged her bonnet forward. “I’ll admit I don’t know anything about running a farm—yet. But I’m not afraid of hard work, and I consider myself very teachable.”

  He faced her head-on. “You’re right. You don’t know anything about running a place like this.” He took hold of both her hands and turned them palms up.

  Her pulse jumped. When was the last time anyone, outside of her family, had held her hands so deliberately?

  She couldn’t remember.

  And it certainly hadn’t been with hands as large and calloused as these. Hands that seemed to contain a tightly leashed power and an ability to protect.

  She gave her head a mental shake, trying to rid herself of the fanciful thoughts. Whatever his intentions, there was no affection in his touch, just a sense of purpose and tried patience.

  But for a heartbeat, as her gaze locked on his, she saw his resolve falter, saw his expression shift into something she couldn’t read. Had he felt that same off-balance feeling that she had?

  Then the moment passed and his expression hardened again. “Look at these hands.” His tone said clearly that he didn’t approve of what he saw. “Not a callous in sight. These are not the hands of a person used to hard work.”

  Callie snatched her hands back, trying to ignore the unexpected feelings his touch had evoked. “I may not have callouses, Mr. Tyler, but that doesn’t mean I’m a stranger to work.” She clasped her still-tingling hands tightly in front of her, and drew herself up, both physically and mentally. “I ran my father’s household for ten years and I pride myself on the very high standards I maintained in doing so. I have every intention of staying here and making a go of this.”

  She couldn’t bear to face returning to what she’d left behind in Ohio. And moving into a town full of strangers, even a town as small as Sweetgum, didn’t sound much more appealing.

  No, she’d been looking forward to the freedom the open expanses and relative privacy of farm life could afford her. She wasn’t about to trade it away without a very good reason.

  He dusted his hat against his leg. “Then it seems this is another topic we’re at odds over.”

  Callie managed to hold her shoulders b
ack, though the temptation to slump was strong. “Mr. Tyler, I truly don’t want to fight you over any of this.” How could she get through to him? If only he was the kind of man his brother had been—solid, caring, patient. Julia had used those words and more to describe Leland. “There must be some way we can make things work to everyone’s benefit.”

  “You’re the one who’s been doing all the praying. You get any answers?”

  Callie winced at his flippant attitude. “Surely you know that God’s timing is not always our own,” she said calmly. “His answer will come if we wait on it.”

  The reappearance of the children forestalled whatever response he might have made.

  Annabeth skipped up to them and latched on to Callie’s hand. “Cinnamon was very happy to see me.”

  “I’m sure she’s missed you this past week.”

  “And Clover’s new calf has really gotten big. Simon says we should name him Buster.”

  “That sounds like a fine name for a growing calf.” Callie smiled at the bubbly chatter coming from the little girl. “How would you like to show me the inside of your house?”

  “Okay.” She tugged on Callie’s hand. “Just follow me.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  Callie noted the determined set to Jack’s jaw. Was he afraid she’d try to stake her claim while he wasn’t looking?

  As the three strolled toward the house, Emma joined them. Simon, however, chose to stay outside and play with the dogs.

  Callie felt at home as soon as she stepped across the threshold. Everywhere she looked she saw the stamp of Julia’s presence. Everyday things her friend had written about were all around her, as if a favorite storybook had sprung to life.

  While the girls continued down the hall, Callie stepped inside the front parlor. She was immediately drawn to the large, leather-bound Bible that sat in a place of honor on a table next to the window. Opening it, she found a listing of the Tyler family tree going back to Jack’s great-great-grand-parents. She remembered Julia writing to tell her what a proud moment it had been for her when Leland added her name to the lineage chart as his wife, and later, how special it had been for them to add Annabeth’s name together.