Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (10 page)

He nodded. “She did. I just hope her services won't be required.”

“As do I.”

He unloaded the last bit of wood and straightened. “I'll just put this wheelbarrow away, then I think I'm ready for that promised glass of lemonade.” He flashed a grin. “But don't worry—I intend to wash up proper first.”

He whistled as he headed for the carriage house, leaving Eileen staring after him. Being teased was an entirely new experience for her, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it was a very undignified way to treat her, one she should object to. But on the other hand, when he spoke to her like that, when he gave her that look that seemed to imply a certain level of friendship, it made her feel warm and soft inside.

She had to keep reminding herself, though, that feelings were fleeting and could betray you. In the end it was respectability and prominence that mattered.

As the boys climbed up the porch steps she cautioned them to wipe their feet, then followed them inside.

And forced herself not to turn around to see what Mr. Tucker was doing.

Chapter Twelve

A
fter the lunch table was cleared and the dishes cleaned and put away, Eileen announced it was rest time. The children were instructed to go to their rooms for an hour either to nap or amuse themselves quietly. As she had the day before, Eileen took Molly and Flossie out to the swing to be rocked before her nap. But this time she made certain Fern knew where Molly would be.

Rather than taking the opportunity to rest, Mr. Tucker slipped out to pay another visit to the clinic to check on Miss Fredrick.

He returned in time to carry a drowsing Molly up to her room.

“How is Miss Fredrick?” Eileen asked when he returned downstairs.

“There's been no change.”

She noted the ever so slight droop to his shoulders. Knowing he didn't need empty reassurances, she held her peace.

He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I'm not sure how I'm going to tell the kids.”

“Tell them that it is in God's hands, as is their own future.”

“And if she dies?” The harshness in his tone hit her like a slap. “Are they to believe that was God's doing, too?”

The emotion in his voice was so raw, she wondered if he had struggled with this issue in the past. “Everyone dies, Mr. Tucker,” she said gently. “These children should be well aware of that. But what you must be sure they understand is that, if she doesn't recover it doesn't mean God doesn't hear their prayers nor does it mean He doesn't care. It simply means He had something else in mind for Miss Fredrick and was ready to call her home.”

He looked at her, and she watched as the tension in his jaw sloughed away. “I'll look to you to help with that discussion should the time come.” Then his crooked smile returned. “You do realize that this also means we'll likely be trespassing on your hospitality a bit longer.”

She lifted her chin. “On the contrary, it merely means you still do not know the end date, no more than you knew it before you checked in on the patient.”

He shook his head with an exaggeratedly solemn expression that was belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “I've always heard one should be cautious when dealing with a woman who insists on having the last word.”

“As you should be. Most women with that trait tend to have a quick mind and a sharp wit.”

He chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind.”

She let that go without comment.

“I think I'll go finish getting the carriage house set to rights,” he said. And with a wave, he turned and sauntered away.

Had they actually been flirting? It was an activity she'd once excelled in, but it had been so long...

Pushing those memories away, she turned and headed for the parlor. Time to focus on something productive, like the mending that sat in her sewing basket impatiently awaiting her attention. She would most definitely
not
be focusing on that smile of his.

Strange, though, how difficult it had become to focus on even the simplest of tasks. Surely it was due to nothing more specific than the presence of so many houseguests.

As she accidentally jabbed the needle into her thumb she acknowledged that perhaps there just might be something slightly more specific tugging at her attention.

* * *

Mr. Tucker's visit to Dr. Pratt's clinic the next day bore no better news than it had the day before. Much as they tried to keep the children busy to distract their thoughts, a thick, somber cloud seemed to settle over the entire household.

That evening, when the last of the children were settled in their beds, Eileen sought out Mr. Tucker. She found him on the front porch. But he wasn't whittling. Instead he stood near the steps with his elbows planted on the porch rail, apparently just staring out at the sky.

She hesitated, not sure whether to approach him or slip back inside. Before she could make up her mind he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile. “Care to join me?”

With a nod, she closed the door behind her and joined him at the rail. They stood side by side, close enough to touch if they cared to, staring out at the night sky, not speaking.

The silence drew out but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, in fact it felt quite...companionable. He had burned the leaves the boys raked up earlier, and the smoky scent still hung in the air. A dog barked in the distance, and she thought of Joey and his desire to have a pet of his own. Which reminded her of her own desire for a pet growing up.

No, best not to think of the past.

Time to get back to business. “There is something I need to speak to you about.”

“Oh?” He turned his head toward her, keeping his elbows planted on the rail. “Is there another chore you thought of that I can take care of for you?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Did he think her so mercenary? She was silent a little longer. “This is not exactly my story to tell, but I felt it important you understand, not only for your own information, but also to help answer any questions the children may have.”

He turned completely around this time and leaned back against the rail, folding his arms across his chest. “I'm listening.”

Having those blue eyes of his focused so intently on her like that was more distracting than she wanted to let on. “It concerns Dovie. When we head for church service in the morning, she won't be joining us.”

Simon frowned. “Don't tell me she's not a believer. I've heard her pray and she seems quite sincere.”

“No, that's not it. I guess you could say she has a malady of sorts that prevents her from going out amongst people.”

A wrinkle furrowed his brow. “What kind of malady?”

“I don't really understand it. Ivy tried to explain it to me once. It seems Dovie gets agitated and physically ill if she tries to leave the immediate vicinity of the house. Apparently she needs to feel her room is nearby so that she can retreat to it if she feels overwhelmed.”

“How unusual.” He seemed more intrigued than skeptical. “So, has she always lived here with you?”

“No, she moved in this past summer. She actually lived in another town before that. But she lost her home and moved here to be closer to Ivy.”

“If she can't leave the area around her home, then how did she make that trip?”

“My understanding is she took a sleeping draught and then Ivy and her husband took care of getting her here while she slept.”

“That's incredible.” His hand moved as if to touch her, then halted. But her own hand tingled as if realizing its loss.

“Thank you for explaining the situation.” He turned back around to stare out into the dark. “You're right—the children probably
will
have questions. I'm not sure exactly what to say to them.”

“You accepted the truth. Why shouldn't they?”

He lifted an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye. “Is everything always so black-and-white for you?”

Did he think her too narrow-minded? She turned to face out into the night, as well. “Gray does exist, of course, but it's the color of shadows and fog. I find it best to stay away from it, if possible.”

He didn't look her way, but she had no doubt he intended her to see the teasing smile that tugged at his lips. “An answer for everything.”

As earlier, they were both silent for a while, staring out at nothing in particular. But this time it wasn't quite so comfortable. Was he as aware of her presence as she was of his?

“It's nice out here this time of evening.”

His tone had been soft, but she'd been so lost in her own tangled thoughts that she barely controlled the start at the sound of his voice. Luckily he didn't seem to notice.

“The streetlamps are lit,” he continued, “most everyone is in their homes, the stars are shining bright.”

“One could almost imagine that the slate has been wiped clean and that tomorrow will bring a fresh beginning.” As soon as she'd said the words she wished them back. Such thoughts were not meant to be shared.

But he'd already turned to look at her, a puzzled smile on his face. He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “And what is on your slate that you wish wiped clean?” he asked softly.

That touch sent a shiver through her. For just a moment, she was tempted to tell him everything.

Then reason reasserted itself. She drew herself up and removed any hint of emotion from her face. “I believe everyone has some fault or other they'd like to rid themselves of, don't you agree?”

“I suppose. After all, only one man has ever led a perfect life.”

She nodded. “Exactly. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will retire for the night.” And before he could ask her any more probing questions, she turned and went inside.

* * *

Simon watched her go. He'd thought, for just a moment, that she'd thawed toward him. But no doubt it had been the hour and the events of the day that had caused her to let down her guard. It had certainly snapped back into place quickly enough when he'd touched her. But he didn't regret the act. He'd been wanting to touch her hair all day. And it had been every bit as silky as he'd imagined. For a moment he tried to picture how it might look loose, tumbling over her shoulders.

Abruptly, he pushed away from the rail. Getting involved in this woman's business would be a mistake. His focus should be on fulfilling his obligations to the children and to Miss Fredrick.

And that meant getting them to Hatcherville as soon as possible,
not
dallying here in Turnabout. Hopefully, in no time at all this town, and this warm-below-the-surface ice queen, would be nothing more than a fond but quickly fading memory.

But as he climbed the stairs he had a feeling that the memory of this particular woman wouldn't fade quite so quickly.

* * *

The next morning was a whirlwind of activity as they worked to get all ten children ready for church. There were lost ribbons to be found, loose buttons to be reattached, shoes to be found, hair to be braided or combed just so.

By the time everyone was ready and lined up by the door, Eileen felt her hostess skills, not to mention her patience, had been tested to their very limits. But at last they were ready to make the three-and-a-half-block walk to church.

Before they could step out the front door, however, Tessa looked around with a puzzled frown. “Aren't we going to wait for Nana Dovie?”

“Miss Jacobs is not going with us,” Eileen answered.

“Why? Is she sick like Gee-Gee?” Joey asked anxiously.

“No,” Eileen hastily reassured him, “at least not like your Gee-Gee.”

“So she
is
sick?” Tessa pressed.

Eileen cast a quick glance Mr. Tucker's way, but he was apparently leaving it to her to do the explaining. Very well. “Miss Jacobs never goes very far from this house—not to go shopping, not to visit friends, not to take walks, not even to go to church.”

“Why?”

To Eileen's relief, Mr. Tucker finally decided to speak up. “Because something inside her won't let her. The same way Rose can't eat foods that touch, or Molly can't go to sleep without Flossie. Nana Dovie's heart won't let her leave this place. She can't help it, and we shouldn't think ill of her for it.”

That seemed to satisfy the children. Without another word they exited the house and headed for the front walk. Eileen cast an approving glance Mr. Tucker's way, then thought better of it when she saw his self-satisfied grin.

That man didn't seem to have a humble bone in his body!

She stepped forward and took the lead with Molly and Tessa, while Mr. Tucker brought up the rear. It felt as if they were in a parade. Then she corrected herself. No, it was more like a mother duck trying to get her hatchlings safely across the lane and to the pond.

Pushing aside that unflattering image, she tried to think ahead to what they would do when they arrived. Her first thought was the realization that they would never all fit in one pew. Should they divide up the boys and girls as they had the floors, or should they put the older children together and the younger ones together? And however they did this, would Mr. Tucker expect her to oversee one of the groups?

In the end they went with the latter arrangements. The six older children sat in one pew while the four younger ones sat behind them with Eileen and Simon bookending them.

It wasn't until everyone was finally seated that Eileen breathed a sigh of relief. How had Miss Fredrick handled all of this on a daily basis, and without the assistance of Dovie and Mr. Tucker?

A moment later she began to sense something different. It took a moment for her to figure out what it was, then it hit her. There were people actually sending smiles of greeting her way.

She had so perfected the art of not meeting anyone's gaze these past two years, and not showing any outward sign of emotion of any sort, that she'd almost missed it.

It wasn't coming from everyone, of course. But there were enough that it was unmistakable. And only now, when some sense of welcome had returned, did she admit to herself how much she'd missed it.

* * *

Simon found the children surprisingly well behaved throughout the service, with minimal fidgeting on the younger ones' part.

After the service, several of the local children introduced themselves to the newcomers. If at least part of the reason was because they had been prompted by their parents, Simon had no problem with that. He let the kids tarry and visit for a while. It would be good for them to mingle with others their own age.

Mrs. Pierce stood next to him, her unapproachable ice-queen mask now firmly back in place.

Was it her choice not to mingle with her neighbors or had she been ostracized for some reason? Before he could speculate further, they were approached by a trio that included two women and an impressively large gentleman.

The man greeted Mrs. Pierce with a tip of his hat. “Good day to you.”

She returned his greeting with a nod of her head. “And to you, Mr. Parker.” Her expression never wavered.