The Hand-Me-Down Family (17 page)

Making sure he got those scorched walls and timbers down without allowing the whole thing to collapse in on him and his young crew made it much trickier.

Despite that, they'd made a lot of progress today. But they'd have to keep up the pace to meet his deadline.

Jessie, especially, had surprised him. The girl was a hard worker with a lot of grit and determination. She had big dreams and wasn't content to just sit back and
hope
they came true—she was doing everything in her power to
make
them come true.

Had she learned that from her parents—both the dreaming big and the working hard? What would his nieces and nephew learn from him? He wouldn't be around much, but when he was, he'd have to make sure he took his role as father figure seriously.

Of course, they had Callie to look to. And he'd challenge anyone to find a better example for a child to follow, especially when it came to a willingness to dig in and get the job done.

Remembering the way she'd tackled the farm chores these past few days brought a smile to his lips.

But only for a minute.

His shoulders slumped at the thought of tending to evening chores when he got back to the farm. It was like having two jobs at once. But it was only for about five weeks, give or take.

At least he'd have a home-cooked meal waiting for him when he finished up, something that was hit or miss at camp. One thing Callie could do well was cook.

The sun hadn't quite set when the horse turned into the familiar lane and Jack pulled her up short. Surprise washed away his fatigue. Callie and the kids were herding the cows into the barnyard.

Seems he'd underestimated the woman once again.

J
ack stepped out on the porch and drew his shoulders back, watching the fireflies play hide and seek in the front yard.

Callie was putting the children to bed, but he knew she'd be out to join him soon. It had become routine.

When he'd arrived home this evening, she'd only allowed him to take care of the horse and buggy, insisting that she and the kids could handle the rest of the chores while he went inside and washed all the soot and grime away before supper. There'd even been a kettle of water already warming on the firebox for him in the washroom.

A man could get used to that kind of treatment.

He stopped himself once again. It wouldn't do for him to get
too
used to it. He couldn't afford any ties that would make it harder on him or them when the time came for him to go.

He moved toward his usual seat on the top step, then paused.

Maybe he could repay the favor, even if only in a small way. After all, he didn't like being beholden to anyone.

If Callie was going to join him out here every night…

Acting on impulse, he grabbed the bench from its place by
the door and moved it up against the porch rail. He studied it a moment, then slid it slightly to the left.

There.

She'd have a place to sit if she wanted to, but could still stand at the rail if that was her preference.

He stared at the bench, rubbing the back of his neck. What if Callie read something into the gesture he hadn't intended?

Maybe he should just put things back the way they'd been.

He bent over the bench and then halted, a self-mocking smile curving his lips. For a man who prided himself on being decisive, he was certainly acting like a waffley whelp.

Jack left the bench where he'd placed it and pulled out his pocketknife.

Five minutes later, Callie finally stepped out on the porch.

Jack studiously sliced another curl of wood to add to the pile of shavings at his feet. He felt rather than saw her pause a moment before stepping forward. But she took a seat on the bench without comment.

“How did the work go today?” she asked.

He looked up and attempted to hide his surprise. For once, he hadn't had to prompt her to remove her bonnet.

A good sign.

“Better than expected. Three able-bodied workers showed up to help this morning.” He resumed his whittling, watching her from the corner of his eye. “One of them's a girl.”

She raised a brow. “How did that come about?”

“Jessie Mills is the blacksmith's daughter. She's got a burning desire to earn enough money to travel around the world.”

“So, a soul mate of sorts.”

He shrugged. “Let's just say I sympathize with her dreams. But she's earning her pay every bit as much as the two guys.”

Callie merely smiled that wise-woman smile of hers.

Jack shaved another long curl of wood from the block. “I think we'll get everything cleared out by Thursday evening.”

“You're doing a good thing for the children,” Callie said, worry in her voice, “but don't push yourself too hard in the process.”

“It's just for a few days—I know what I'm doing.” He changed the subject. “So how did your day go?”

“We did all right. Today was ironing day, of course, so that took up a big part of the morning. While I worked on that, I had Simon and the girls drag the rugs out to give them a good beating.”

“Sounds like you kept busy.” He found himself wondering if they missed having him around at all.

“Oh, it wasn't all work. The girls had a tea party after lunch. And Ida Lee's son Gil came over to deliver some of her peach preserves. He stayed and spent some time with Simon.”

“Good. Having a kid around here to spend time with might help Simon lose that chip on his shoulder.”

Callie leaned back against the porch rail. Her neck looked longer, leaner without that bonnet.

“I overheard Simon telling him about the story we've been reading. They spent most of the afternoon playing shipwreck.” She glanced over at him. “I'm afraid Cookie and Pepper were drafted to play the part of the goats,” she said dryly.

He laughed, then pointed the wood at her. “I suppose you went ahead and read the latest chapter without me.”

“Sorry, but I'm afraid so.”

“An apology won't do it,” he said with mock-sternness. “You'll have to fill me in on what I missed.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You don't think you can abandon me in the middle of the adventure do you?”

Jack half-listened while she launched into a summary of the latest trials and triumphs of the shipwrecked family.

Yes, if he wasn't careful, a man could definitely get used to treatment like this.

 

Callie drew the brush through her hair, relishing the soothing, rhythmic movements.

She'd enjoyed reciting the high points of the latest chapter of
Swiss Family Robinson
to Jack tonight. His request meant he was enjoying the story, which in turn meant they did have a shared interest or two after all.

A promising sign.

Even more promising was the fact that he'd gone to the trouble of moving that bench for her this evening. Giving her a place to sit while they chatted was an unexpectedly thoughtful gesture. Was he beginning to enjoy those quiet moments together as much as she?

If only he didn't insist she remove her bonnet every evening. Callie stared at her reflection in the mirror, facing the ugliness head-on, something she rarely did. At least outside in the fading light her birthmark wasn't quite so obvious. Maybe that's why he was insistent about the whole thing. In the twilight it must look like more of a shadow than anything else. So he could at least pretend she looked okay.

Yes, that must be it. Having her sit there without her bonnet in the moonlight while they discussed the day's events probably lent a sense of normalcy to what—to him at least—must be an uncomfortable situation.

She set the brush down and reached back to separate her hair into three thick ropes. But before she could begin braiding, the door opened behind her.

“Aunt Callie?”

She turned to see Annabeth peeking through the doorway.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

The little girl stepped inside the room. “I had a dream about Daddy.”

Callie held out her arms, which was all the incentive the child needed. Annabeth rushed forward and snuggled into her lap. Callie picked up her brush and drew the bristles through the child's sunny curls. “Was it a good dream?”

“Uh-huh. He was leading me around on Cinnamon like he used to, and telling me how pretty I was, that I looked just like Mommy.”

“That sounds very nice.”

“It was. But then I woke up and I remembered he wasn't here anymore.”

“And that made you sad?”

Annabeth nodded.

“It's okay to be sad, you know. My own mommy died when I was fourteen, and I was very sad, too. But do you want to know a secret?”

Annabeth nodded again.

“I was sad for me because I missed her so much. But I was also very happy for her.”

The little girl's eyes widened. “You were?”

“Yes. Because I knew she was in heaven, and heaven is such a wonderful place, more wonderful than we can even imagine. I knew Mother was happy there and that nothing could hurt her or make her cry ever again.”

“Oh.” Annabeth thought about that a minute. “And that's where my daddy and mommy are, too.”

Callie heard the question in her statement. “That's right. They're both there together. And your Aunt Nell and Uncle Jed are with them.”

“And your mommy, too?”

“That's right. And you know, they're probably watching us right now.”

Annabeth snuggled deeper into her lap. “That's nice.”

“So even though it's okay to miss them, we can also be very happy for them.”

“Okay.” The word ended on a yawn.

“Now, it's time for you to get back to bed, young lady.” Callie set the brush down and allowed Annabeth to slide from her lap. “Would you like me to tuck you in again?”

Annabeth nodded and slipped her hand in Callie's.

Callie led her down the hall to her room. The child was already rubbing her eyes as Callie pulled the covers up to her chin. Callie leaned down and kissed her forehead. Before she could rise again, Annabeth lifted a hand and stroked Callie's left cheek. “I don't care what Simon says,” she said sleepily. “I like your angel kiss.”

Callie stood, feeling both warmed and chilled by the artlessly uttered words.

What had Simon been saying?

Careful not to waken the still-sleeping Emma, Callie glided from the room and quietly closed the door behind her. She turned to find Jack standing at the top of the stairs, staring at her with a strange look in his eyes.

He stepped forward, his expression changing to concern. “Is something wrong with one of the girls?”

He spoke in a stage whisper, his voice oddly husky.

“No.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Annabeth was troubled by a dream she had, but I think she's okay now.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Well then, I guess I'll say good-night. Again.”

“Good-night.” Callie, feeling as nervous as a schoolgirl under his peculiar stare, hurried across the hall and into the sanctuary of her room.

 

Jack closed the door to his chamber. Now why had he just reacted so strongly to the unexpected encounter? Even if he and Callie hadn't been married, there'd been nothing the least bit improper or suggestive in her appearance. In fact, that prim, buttoned-to-the-chin wrapper she had on would have looked at home in an elderly spinster's wardrobe.

He supposed it was the sight of those waves of unbound hair. Every other time he'd seen her without her bonnet she'd had her hair up in a tight bun or a braided coronet. He'd had no idea it was so long and fluid. She appeared to be a whole different person with her hair down—softer, more feminine.

But there was something else that had tugged at him just now. He'd seen a hint of pain in her eyes, in the slight droop of her shoulders. He itched to find out what had caused it, to see if there was a demon he could slay for her.

Jack shook his head. Now that was a blamed fool way to be thinking.

He splashed water from the bedside basin onto his face. Of course, it
was
natural for a man to want to protect his family. And Callie was part of his family now, the same way the kids were.

No more, no less.

I
t was already dark Thursday evening when Callie heard the sound of Jack's return. His work hours seemed to get longer with each passing day.

Twenty minutes later she watched him leave the barn and head toward the house. Despite his apparent weariness there was a jauntiness to the set of his shoulders.

Did that mean he'd finished clearing the lot? She hoped so, and not just for the children's sake. He'd worked so hard to make his deadline, it would be a shame for him to feel he'd failed.

As she set him a place at the table, she heard him step into the washroom, whistling. Where did the man get that kind of energy?

By the time Jack entered the kitchen, hair still damp, she had the meal ready for him.

He inhaled deeply as he took a place at the table. “Smells good. And boy, am I hungry.”

“You put in a long day today.”

“Yep, but we finished all the clearing out work.” He scooped up a forkful of potatoes. “In fact, we did better than that. We
set down the plank floor for the new building. Those kids won't even see the scorched earth when they go to town tomorrow.”

No wonder he seemed so pleased with himself. “My goodness, you
did
get a lot done.”

“It wasn't just me and my crew. Apparently word got around about what I was trying to do and why. Virgil came out today, along with several of Lanny and Nell's friends.”

“And you're okay with that?”

He shrugged. “I'd rather have done it myself. But there wasn't time and these folks were doing it for the kids more than for me.”

Well, well, Mr. I Don't Need Anybody was finally learning to accept a bit of help from others.

 

When the buckboard turned onto Main Street the next morning, Callie's gaze immediately locked onto the empty lot where the café used to stand. Instead of ashes and charred timbers, a platform of fresh lumber now marked the spot. In fact, several of the town's children were using the place as a makeshift playground.

It was indeed a remarkable transformation. Callie turned to Jack, touching his arm.

Simon also turned to Jack, disbelief and hope on his face. “You're rebuilding our house.”

“Not your house.” Jack's tone was firm. “It won't be anything like the building you remember. But yes, I've decided to erect a new structure where the old one stood.”

Simon leaned forward, clutching the back of their seat. “But we can move back to town when it's finished, can't we?”

“I didn't say that.”

“But—”

“One thing at a time, Simon,” Callie said quickly. She didn't want to mar this outing with bickering and sullen pouts.

Especially not today.

Simon's eyes narrowed rebelliously, but he settled back in his seat without another word.

 

Callie closed Mrs. Mayweather's front gate behind her. Jessie Mills had volunteered to take Annabeth and Emma down to the livery to see Persia, the frisky young colt. Simon had disappeared somewhere with his friends, and Jack was working on his construction project.

So, once the shopping was done, she'd taken advantage of the free time to visit with her friend, as a gift to herself. The schoolteacher had been as warm and welcoming as ever, and had seemed genuinely interested in the progress the newly-formed family was making. They'd had a lovely talk over a tasty snack of tea and cake.

But now it was nearly noon. Time to gather the family and head back to the farm.

Callie found herself humming as she walked along the sidewalk toward the center of town. The day was gorgeous, the family had made it through this first week and God had proven once again what a faithful, loving Father he was.

So what if she were the only one who knew what day today was? She had blessings enough to make her content without any added fanfare.

She approached the hedge-lined border of the Pearsons' front lawn. Unless he'd already joined Jack at the work site, Simon was supposed to be here or at the Thompsons' home.

“You really learned how to milk a cow?”

Callie smiled at the sound of the boyish voice coming from the other side of the tall hedge.

“Sure, nothing to it.”

Was there a touch of bragging in Simon's voice? Quite a change from the tone he'd used when she tried to teach him the skill a few days ago.

But the other boy laughed. “Next thing you know you'll be mucking out stalls and pulling stems of hay from your hair.”

What a snide thing to say! No wonder Simon was so dissatisfied with life on the farm if his friends felt this way. How could she help him learn to—

“So how is life with Old Miss Splotchy-Face?”

Callie stopped in her tracks, stunned by the unexpectedness of the name-calling.

“Oh, you know, she keeps one of those horse-blinder bonnets on all the time.” The sullen tone was back in Simon's voice.

“Bet you don't have problems with varmints on your place.” There was an ugly snicker underlining the words. “All she'd have to do is take off that contraption and anything with eyes in its head would run for the hills.”

“Yeah. She could scare the sweet out of sugar with that face, all right.”

Heaven help her, that was Simon's voice. Was that how he really felt about her?

She heard the sound of spitting. Then Simon spoke again. “I have to keep an eye on things so she doesn't pull that bonnet off and scare the girls. You know what scaredy cats they can be.”

There was more laughter and talk of how silly girls were, then one of the other boys spoke up. “So, are you going to be moving back to town when your Uncle Jack gets done with that new building?”

“
She
doesn't want to.”

Callie had no doubt the “she” Simon referred to with such venom was herself.

“But I think Uncle Jack will get her to come around once he's done. Hey, why don't we head over to where they're working? I'll bet Uncle Jack would let us help if we asked.”

Callie had only a few seconds to compose herself before the boys came racing out through the break in the hedge a few yards ahead of her. But she managed to school her features, determined not to let them know she'd heard anything amiss.

Simon saw her first and halted in his tracks. The look on his face was a hodge-podge of embarrassment, defiance and bravado. And maybe just the merest touch of remorse. Or was that only wishful thinking on her part?

As soon as the other boys saw her they pulled up short as well.

Bobby Pearson kicked at a clod of dirt with the toe of his shoe. Then he dug his hands in his pockets. “I just remembered, my maw wanted me to refill that old birdbath out back.”

Abe Thompson looked from Simon to Callie, his eyes as round as saucers and his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. “Uh, yeah, I probably ought to help you with that.”

Within seconds it was just Simon and Callie on the sidewalk, facing each other. All through that short exchange, she'd felt Simon's eyes on her, studying her, no doubt trying to decipher what she might or might not have heard.

Well, he'd just have to continue guessing.

She spoke up first. “I'm glad I found you. It's time we headed back to the farm. Do you think you could run down to the livery and fetch the girls?”

Guarded relief flashed across his face. Then, with a quick nod, he turned and ran off in the direction of the livery.

Callie watched him go. She reminded herself of all that the boy had been through, told herself his display was at least
partly show for his friends and that he might not actually feel that way, but her rationalizations didn't erase the sting of those hurtful words.

She resumed her walk toward the center of town, but the bounce had gone from her step, and she no longer had the urge to hum.

 

Callie tromped past the barn, heading toward the tree line just north of the open field.

All of the goods from the market had been put away, lunch was long past, and supper simmered on the stove. Emma was sketching. Annabeth was looking at her picture book. Simon and Jack were playing dominoes.

No one had bothered to do more than glance up and nod when she'd announced she planned to take a walk.

Which was just as well. She needed to find a place where she could be truly alone, where she wouldn't be overheard or interrupted. Because she could feel emotions swirling around inside her, emotions that needed to be let out before they overwhelmed her.

And when she did let loose, it would not be a sight for public viewing.

Callie reached the tree line and easily found the well-worn trail that provided entrance to the wood. Julia had written about a spot back this way where the trees opened up on a small grassy meadow fed by a narrow stream.

Sure enough, several minutes later she discovered the flower-dotted swath of green. The stream was little more than a trickle at the moment, but it was sparkling and clear.

Callie sat near the bank, removed her bonnet and hairpins, and shook her hair free as she raised her face to absorb the warming rays of the sun. Closing her eyes, she deliberately opened her other senses to her surroundings.

Birds, insects and gurgling water provided lyrical background music. The scents of crushed grass, pine needles and wildflowers perfumed the air. The warmth of the sun and the slight kiss of a breeze caressed her, filling her with a lazy comfort.

It was peaceful here, every bit as lovely as Julia had described it, and it was a sweet testament to God's artistry.

She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on the makeshift prop.

And found she couldn't hold back the doubts and dark thoughts any longer.

Simon's hurtful words, Lanny's untimely death, the letter she'd expected from her father that hadn't come—all this and more tumbled round and round in her mind.

What if her presence here had actually made things worse for this family instead of better?

Was she really the mother these children needed or had she stubbornly stood in the way of a more worthy candidate? Had she done them a disservice by making it easy for Jack to eventually leave rather than stay and learn to be a real, day-in-day-out father?

Oh, but she missed Julia so much.

Missed being able to pour her heart out to someone who would understand and not judge. Missed getting those wonderful letters with her pithy responses and uplifting advice.

Missed with a deep-down ache knowing that there was someone in this world who loved her just the way she was.

Father, I know You love me unconditionally. I know You are with me always and that that should be enough to carry me through the hard and lonely times without complaint. But I'm a wretchedly weak creature. I want to be loved by someone who will share my walk here. Not just be deemed useful or acceptable, but be truly and deeply loved.

Did admitting such feelings mean she'd failed God as well?

And then the pent-up sobs came.

 

Jack covered the trail in fast, long strides. Where was she? He hadn't really been paying attention when she'd mentioned going for a stroll. It was only later, when his game with Simon was finished, that he'd thought about how unaccustomed she was to the hidden dangers in this part of the country.

He wasn't worried about her getting lost. Even the greenest of city girls could find their way out of so small a wood, and Callie had a good head on her shoulders. But other things could happen out here—a trip and fall that resulted in a twisted ankle or worse, an unexpected encounter with a snake or other critter, a tangle with some painfully spiky thorns.

He should have known better than to let her wander off by herself.

Jack stepped into the meadow and paused for a moment as memories intruded of past picnics and games played here with Lanny and Nell. But the sight of Callie seated near the stream quickly brought his thoughts back to the present.

She was hunched over and her shoulders were shaking. Even from this distance he could hear her sobs.

Within seconds he'd crossed the meadow and was kneeling at her side.

Putting a hand at the small of her back, he scanned her form, looking for injuries. “Callie, what's the matter? Are you hurt?”

Her head came up like that of a startled doe. The pain he saw reflected there wasn't physical, but it was real and bone-deep.

She made a visible effort to stop the flow of tears, to compose herself.

As gently as he could, he brushed the hair from her forehead. “It's all right,” he whispered. “Let go.”

And with a ragged breath, she surrendered her effort, buried her face in his shoulder and let the tears flow.