Kitabı oku: «The Hand-Me-Down Family», sayfa 4

Chapter Seven

Jack clicked his tongue, encouraging the horse to pick up the pace as the sun edged lower on the horizon. Not that he needed daylight to find his way. Even after eleven years, the road was as familiar to him as his own face.

He’d already made a quick stop at Virgil’s place to let him know he wouldn’t need to worry about handling the chores at the Tyler farm any longer. Luckily he’d caught Virgil out in the barn so he hadn’t had to spend time on pleasantries with his friend’s family. There’d be time enough for neighborly visits in the days to come.

Jack didn’t really consider himself a sentimental man, so the little kick of expectation that hit him when he turned the buggy onto the familiar drive surprised him.

As soon as the house came into full view, he tugged on the reins, halting the horse and buggy. The sight that greeted him was at once soul-deep familiar and strangely foreign.

The same two-story gabled structure sat on the lawn like a fat hen guarding her nest.

The same large oak tree spread its made-for-climbing branches over the left side of the lawn.

The same red barn pointed its cupola to the sky.

But Lanny and Julia, not to mention Father Time, had made noticeable changes. There was now a roomy swing on one end of the wraparound front porch. The oak tree was several feet taller and its branches shaded a much larger patch of ground than Jack remembered. And the gray-and-black speckled dog that came bounding from behind the barn was nothing like ole Clem.

With another flick of the reins, Jack directed the horse around the house and into the barn.

There were several changes in here as well. The old buggy had been replaced with a roomier one and it seemed Lanny had invested in some interesting-looking tools and equipment. It might be worth his while to do a little exploring in here when he had some time.

But for now he had to take care of bedding down the animals while there was still light enough to see by. He gave the energetic dog a bit of attention, then unhitched the horse and patted the animal as it moved past him toward the water trough.

As he worked at the chores that had once been second nature, his mind wondered over the day’s happenings.

Callie was a puzzle to him. Her intentions and determination were admirable, but he didn’t believe she understood what she was up against. Such an obviously sheltered city girl would have a hard time adjusting to life in a place like this. Especially now that she didn’t have a husband to smooth the way for her.

Still, there was something about the woman, something about the way she faced a fracas head-on rather than shying away that he found intriguing.

Had her life back in Ohio been so terrible that even with what had happened, she—

Jack gave his head a shake. He’d let her get under his skin. He had to remember that her personal problems were no concern of his. She wanted to challenge his claim to Annabeth, and that made her his opponent.

He gave the carriage horse one last brush with the currycomb then patted her again, sending her into an empty stall.

Once he’d fed and watered the other animals and taken care of the evening milking, Jack headed for the house. As he climbed the porch steps he ran a hand over the familiar support post. The etched image of a rearing horse his father had carved into the wood one rainy summer afternoon was still discernable, even under the layer of new paint.

Family mattered. Shared history mattered. That was something only he could offer those kids.

Jack stepped inside, noting the addition of a new screen door as he passed. He wandered through the first floor, feeling strangely disoriented by the mix of the familiar and the new. Everywhere he looked he could see where Julia and Lanny’s lives together had left a lasting imprint on the Tyler family home. New curtains here, a new chair there. A tin type picture of Julia’s parents now shared space on the mantle with those of the Tyler family. There was also a tintype of Lanny and Julia. Julia held an infant on her lap.

He soon discovered a room had been tacked on to the back of the house. Inside sat a shiny porcelain bathtub and some new-fangled laundry equipment. A hand pump stood against the far wall, sprouting from the back lip of a large metal sink. Next to the sink, a small iron fire box supported a large kettle, ready to heat the water when needed. Large windows set high on three of the four walls would provide ventilation without sacrificing privacy. Someone had even strung a cord below the rafters, no doubt to be used for hanging wet laundry when the weather made it uncomfortable to do so outside.

Not for the first time Jack admired his brother’s ingenuity. He could see how this setup would have been a great convenience for Julia. And it would make his life here with the kids that much easier, too.

Jack climbed the stairs, curious to see the bedchambers.

The first room he stepped into was the one he and Lanny had shared as children. Gone were the rock collections, pouches of marbles and patched overalls that had once marked it as the room of two active boys.

Now, everything was clean and neatly arranged. A number of subtle feminine touches had been added, too, no doubt thanks to Julia.

Still, if one looked close enough, the memories were there, lurking in the shadows. Memories of horseplay and fights, of discussions in the dark long after they were supposed to be asleep, of the big brother he’d adored and resented by turns.

Jack stepped farther into the room, looking for the wooden chests his father had built for them. He and Lanny had used them to store their few personal possessions.

Lanny’s was nowhere in sight but Jack found his tucked below the window sill with a lace doily and a needlework picture of some flowers on top.

Inside were the things he’d treasured growing up, the few items that had been his alone, that had never belonged to Lanny. He lifted out a leather pouch with a grin. It contained exactly twelve marbles—two nice sized aggies and ten immies. Lanny had given him two of these and taught him how to use them, but the rest Jack had won for himself from schoolyard games.

Of course, he’d never beaten Lanny. Lanny had been good at just about everything he tried. Much as Jack loved his brother, growing up in his shadow hadn’t been easy.

Which was one of the reasons he’d left Sweetgum. Only he’d never intended to stay away so long.

Jack shut the lid on the chest and left the room. Too bad he couldn’t shut out his feelings of guilt so easily.

He walked across the hall and opened the door to Nell’s old room. It still had the stamp of a little girl occupant—lace and frills and brightly colored hair ribbons everywhere. This had to be Annabeth’s domain now.

A rag doll lay on the bed. He should bring it to her in the morning, to give her back a little bit of her home.

Jack reached for it, but his fingers curled back into his palm. There was no similar memento he could bring to Nell’s kids. How would they feel as they watched Annabeth enjoy her piece of home?

He turned and left the room empty-handed.

Jack skipped the room next to Annabeth’s and moved instead to the one across from it. This used to be his mother’s domain. Its main function had been as a sewing room, but it had served a multitude of other purposes, too. A pull-down bed had turned it into a guest room when the rare overnight visitor came calling. Spare odds and ends had been stored on shelves that lined two of the walls. And his mother had also hung dried flowers and herbs in bunches from the rafters.

As soon as Jack pushed the door open, he was assaulted by the familiar smells of his childhood. Floral scents mingled with dill, mustard and mint. He could almost imagine his mother working in here, humming in that off-key way she had.

As he looked at the room, he noticed a nearly finished lap quilt attached to the quilting frame, patiently waiting for the seamstress who would never return.

A moment later it hit him that it wasn’t a lap quilt but one made for a baby’s bed.

He turned abruptly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

The only room left to visit was the one that his parents had slept in. Except it would now be Lanny’s room, the one he and Julia had shared when she was alive. The one he had, no doubt, been prepared to share with Callie.

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 back, 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.

Jack peered over her shoulder. “Thinking of adding your name?” he asked dryly.

“No, of course not.” The thought hadn’t even entered her mind. Her short-lived marriage to Leland would have absolutely no impact on the Tyler lineage. It didn’t deserve so much as a footnote.

She turned and realized he was no longer focused on her.

Instead, he studied the open Bible, a tight expression on his face. “I guess I should update the entries on Nell and Lanny.”

It took Callie a second to realize he was referring to notating the date of their deaths.

She placed a hand on his arm. “There’ll be time enough to take care of that later.”

He stared at her hand, then gave a quick nod and turned away. “Come on,” he said, his tone once again easy. “The kitchen’s this way.”

But before Callie had a chance to do more than glance around, Annabeth reappeared at her side and tugged her impatiently from the kitchen to the next room. “This way. I want to show you the new room Daddy built.”

Callie smiled as she entered the washroom. “Julia was so proud of this. She wrote to me when they were building it.”

“Of course she did.”

Callie ignored his dry tone. “She asked me for suggestions, but Lanny pretty much designed and built the whole thing himself. She was very proud of him, and of this.” Callie ran a hand along the clothes wringer. “It made life a lot easier on her, especially once she…well, what I mean is, during those last few months.”

But Annabeth, as impatient as ever, didn’t let them linger long in this room, either. “Let’s go see my room.”

As soon the child was certain she had their attention, she darted ahead of them up the stairs.

“Here it is.” Annabeth opened the door to the first room on the left and made a beeline for her bed. She scrambled up on the mattress and hugged the doll sitting there. “Hello, Tizzy. Did you miss me?”

Callie’s smile faded when she saw the way Emma looked at the doll with longing, the way her eyes ran over the other items in the room, pausing to study each of her younger cousin’s possessions with an almost bittersweet hunger.

Callie felt as if a hand had reached inside her chest and was squeezing her heart. That Emma and Simon had lost both their parents at once was an unthinkable tragedy. To have also lost every jot and tittle of their former life, including mementos of those dear loved ones—it added a poignancy that absolutely broke one’s heart.

All they had left from their old life was each other.

And God’s love.

Callie’s arms ached to gather Emma up and hug the child for all she was worth. But that would serve no purpose right now, other than drawing attention to the child’s heartache.

“Ready to see the rest of the rooms up here?” Jack seemed impatient to move on.

Callie nodded, glad for the distraction.

Keeping a tight hold on her doll, Annabeth skipped ahead of them to the room across the hall.

“This used to be my daddy’s room when he was a little boy,” she said as Jack opened the door. “And you, too, Uncle Jack, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right, Little Bit.”

Callie tried to picture Jack as young boy, spending time in here with his older brother. Perhaps this was what had taught Leland that deep patience Julia always spoke of.