City Girl (9 page)

The Wednesday of her third week began just this way. Reagan had not slept well and was not in the mood for games. A man whom she had not met before wouldn't take no for an answer, and Reagan had thrown his water in his face. The man was outraged, but Reagan had had enough. Exiting to the kitchen, she spoke as she gathered her things.

“I'm leaving for the day, Sally. I'm tired of being treated like something on the auction block.” She turned and gave her employer a hard look. “From the outside this place looks classy, but some of your breakfast customers act like animals.”

Not sure she still had a job, Reagan moved to the door. She headed down the alley, not really keeping track of where she was headed. She wasn't upset so much as she was tired. The man really hadn't been that obnoxious, but she hadn't been in the mood to deal with him.

A good walk; that's all I need. Without my bicycle I just don't get out enough.

“Good morning, Reagan,” a voice suddenly called to her, and she realized she'd walked all the way down to Russell's livery.

“Hello, Russell,” Reagan said easily enough, approaching where he stood in the alley behind his shop. She still didn't know the man very well, but at the moment he was a kind face, and Reagan felt very alone.

“Did you work today?”

“I did, yes, but I left early.”

“Are you not feeling well?” he asked with genuine concern. “Holly has everything you can think of if you're under the weather. Just stop and see her.”

“No, I'm all right.”

The big man studied her.

“Your face says you aren't.”

Reagan smiled and laughed a little.

“Sometimes men are so rude!” she suddenly blurted, and Russell had all he could do not to laugh.

“I can't disagree with you there.”

They were silent for a moment.

“What happened?” Russell finally asked.

Reagan shook her head in wonder. “One of the hotel patrons could not keep his hands to himself. I threw his water in his face.”

Russell's booming laugh brought a smile to Reagan's face.

“Good job. You keep them in their place.”

Reagan was fascinated. This was the last thing she'd expected from him.

“Do you really think it was all right that I did that?”

“Of course I do. A woman alone can't let her guard down for an instant.”

Reagan couldn't have felt better if he'd offered her the moon. Smiling a little, she thanked him and turned to go on her way.

“Oh, Reagan,” he said, stopping her. She looked back. “How are things in the little house? Everything working well?”

“It's wonderful,” she told him honestly.

“Well, if you need something, you know where to come.”

With a wave Russell went back inside, and Reagan moved toward home. She was inside the safe walls of her little house a short time later, feeling as tired as if she'd worked her regular day.

Sitting down in her chair and putting her feet up, she found herself thinking of New York and growing sad over what she'd left behind. It hadn't been much, but it had been familiar. Tommy hadn't even sent her bicycle yet, and for one ridiculous moment Reagan thought she might cry.

“This won't do,” she said quietly. “I must be more tired than I first thought.”

But not even hearing the sound of her own voice could convince Reagan. She dozed off for a nap before she could put her finger on what was truly wrong.

Five

“I'
M SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING CHILDREN
,” Reagan muttered in low fury just two weeks later, her arm scrubbing furiously at a pot. “Kind, gentle little children who adore me. I'm supposed to be sitting under shade trees and reading storybooks. I should be eating little cakes and fanning myself if I'm warm.” Reagan shook her head in irritation, blew the air from her brow, and picked up the bucket of water that needed dumping.

It wasn't enough that waiting on tables had been added to her original job as baker. Now, added to those jobs was pot scrubbing. It didn't matter that she was being paid more. She didn't like it! Nearly stomping to the back door, Reagan took barely a step outside before she tossed the bucket of water into the alley. She would have turned right around and gone back in, but a deep gasp stopped her. Peeking around the doorjamb that hindered her view, Reagan caught sight of a tall cowboy. He was dripping wet from his mid-chest to his knees. Reagan's hand came to her mouth.

“I'm sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn't see you.”

“It's all right,” he said, still looking surprised but not angry.

“What were you doing back here anyway?”

The apologetic, concerned face of the woman with the bucket was transfigured into a frown. The wet man looked a little taken aback but still answered, “Just taking a shortcut, ma'am.”

Reagan did little more than nod, not aware that she was still frowning in ill humor. Not until the cowboy went on his way without another word did she think she could have at least apologized again. She had not only soaked him with dirty wash water but intruded into his business as well.

I've got to get out more
, she decided as she went back into work.
I'm wilting here in Texas, and it's only been a month. If Tommy would just send my...

“Reagan, what are you doing just standing there?”

Sally had not asked in outrage, but Reagan was not in a pleasant mood. She caught herself before she snapped at the woman.

“Just emptying the bucket. And yes,” Reagan added before Sally could ask her usual question, “everything is either baking or cooling.”

Sally smiled and teased her.

“What put a burr under your saddle?”

“I don't know,” Reagan admitted as she put the bucket down. “I don't like scrubbing pots—that much I know— but other than that I'm not sure.”

“If you don't like scrubbing pots, why did you agree to do it?”

“The money.”

“Well, is it worth it?”

Reagan looked at her, thinking for the first time that she
had
been a fair employer, not overly harsh, but at times single-minded in purpose because she had a business to run and reliable people were not always available to help her. Reagan smiled for the first time all day.

“Actually, it is, but I just needed to complain for a time.”

Sally shook her head in mock exasperation and went to peek into the ovens. Reagan got fresh water and went back to scrubbing pots.

Holly was hanging out the wash when Reagan arrived home. They hadn't seen too much of each other outside of Reagan's paying the rent and returning the borrowed things as she'd purchased blankets, sheets, and towels of her own.

“How are you, Reagan?” Holly asked. Reagan smiled at the sight of Alisa asleep in a basket at the end of the clothesline.

“I'm doing fine. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. Jonah found a handkerchief in the bushes,” Holly said as she plucked a small white cloth from her pocket. “Is it yours?”

“It is,” Reagan said after she studied it. “Thank you. It must have blown away when I pegged out my own wash.”

“Are you free to come to dinner tonight?” Holly offered on the spur of the moment. “I've got a chicken stewing, and you're welcome to join us.”

“Why, thank you, I am free tonight.”

Holly smiled at her.

“Is there something I can bring?”

“Just yourself.”

They didn't talk much longer, but after learning the time to arrive, Reagan went to her little house, her mood very light.

“That's it,” she concluded as she prepared to bathe. “I don't have any friends here. That's why I'm so down. Tommy hasn't sent my bicycle, and I have no friends. Who wouldn't be down?”

Having concluded this, Reagan stopped worrying about her mood. She had a plan now, and that was all she ever needed.

“I don't like school as much as Elly does,” Jonah informed Reagan that evening. Holly would not accept her help with dinner, so she sat in the living room with Alisa in her lap and Jonah visiting at her side.

“Why is that?” Reagan asked the seven-year-old boy.

“Elly can read lots better than me.”

“But you'll learn, won't you?”

“That's what mama says.”

Reagan smiled down into his dejected little face and thought she might be seeing herself. Most things came easily to her. When they did not, she wasn't very patient.

“What
do
you like about school?”

His face lit up in an instant.

“I like taking lunch in the tin with Elly, and I like to hear the teacher read, and I like it when Timmy Bolthouse plays with me.”

“Who is Timmy Bolthouse?”

“He's my friend from school. He can spit water out his teeth!”

“I can do that.”

Jonah's eyes and little open mouth spoke of his awe.

“Can you teach me?”

Reagan saw her mistake.

“Well...” She tried to find words.

“Can you teach me?” he asked again, thinking she might not have understood.

“Jonah,” Holly suddenly called from the kitchen, “please come help Elly with the table.”

The little boy was clearly in agony. Reagan barely kept her mouth shut as she watched Jonah look between her and the door that would lead to the kitchen.

“Go on now, son.” Russell suddenly appeared to give his boy the urging he needed.

“I'm sorry,” Reagan began as soon as the child was gone. She had shifted Alisa in her lap, but that baby had yet to do anything but sit complacently and play with her toes.

“For what?” Russell asked when he took a seat across from their guest.

Reagan gave him a quick rundown and watched him laugh in delight.

“I'm glad you're laughing,” she said when her host quieted.

“So what did you tell him?”

“I didn't.”

“Well, I think you should,” Russell surprised her by saying. He grinned boyishly. “Then he could teach me.”

Reagan laughed so suddenly that the baby jumped.

“I'm sorry, Alisa,” she said quietly, and for the first time Alisa caught sight of the silver necklace that hung down the front of Reagan's dress. The baby's hand was reaching for it when her father called her name.

“Alisa, don't touch that,” he said, and she looked at him and looked back at the enticing locket.

“Alisa,” he called her name again.

She looked at him.

“No,” he said quite firmly when they had made eye contact.

For a moment she looked as though she would pout or cry, but another look from her father put an end to that.

Reagan didn't know if she was impressed or concerned at how stern he had been. She had to admit to herself, however, that it was nice not to have her necklace grabbed and possibly broken.

A glance at the baby gave her further pause. She was smiling across at her father as though he'd hung the moon. In fact, just a moment later her pudgy arms went out to him. When he took her, Alisa giggled and snuggled up against his chest as though she'd been waiting to do so all day.

“I think we're ready in here,” Holly called from the kitchen before Reagan could comment. And just a few minutes later, Reagan found herself at the kitchen table set for five, with Alisa's high chair close by her mother's seat. The rolls were directly in front of her, and she was about to take one so she could pass the basket when Russell's voice stopped her.

“I think it's my turn to pray tonight,” he said.

Reagan was glad she'd not made a move. She bowed her head along with everyone else and waited for one of the memorized prayers she'd heard off and on over the years.

“Father in heaven,” Russell began, “thank You for this wonderful day and the way You blessed us each hour. Thank You for all Holly's hard work and this great food we can eat. Thank You that Reagan could join us. What a blessing to have her live in the little house and be such a good neighbor. Bless us as we eat and spend the evening together, and may we ever be mindful of Your presence and blessing in our lives. In Christ's name I pray. Amen.”