The Hand-Me-Down Family (4 page)

Jack smiled at the thought of the major general of a woman that was Alberta Mayweather having a husband to “take care
of her.” “The ‘Mrs.' is more of a courtesy title,” he explained. “She never married. But Mrs. Mayweather's been schoolteacher here since before I was born, and she knows what she's doing when it comes to watching over young'uns.”

Unlike me.

Jack's gut tightened. He had quite a tangle to deal with, and it kept growing. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do about the three kids, and now he had to add Lanny's widow to the mix.

Of course, he probably wouldn't have that added worry for long. Now that Lanny was gone, she'd likely head back to Ohio where she'd be amongst people she knew.

“Then they're lucky to have someone like her looking out for them.” Her steps quickened slightly. “But the sooner they can settle into a permanent home again with family around them, the better it'll be.”

Hah! Easy enough for her to say. She didn't have the responsibility of making it happen.

Her sigh interrupted his thoughts. “I just pray that, with God's help, I can be a good mother to Annabeth.”

Mother?
Jack stopped in his tracks.

“Wait just a minute. You can't honestly believe you're going to take charge of my niece.”

He might not know how to be a father, but he'd just made a solemn promise to Nell and Lanny to give it his best shot. And there was no way he'd break a promise like that. No sir, he wasn't about to hand any of those kids over to a stranger.

No matter who she'd been married to.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't back down. “In case you've forgotten, helping to raise Annabeth was the reason Leland asked me to come here. I'm still Annabeth's stepmother. Of course I'm going to take care of her,” she said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Stepmother!” He rubbed the back of his neck, more to keep himself from reaching out to shake some sense into the woman than anything else. “You were married to my brother for less than half a day. Why, I'll wager you've never even laid eyes on Annabeth, have you?”

She crossed her arms and he saw a flash of temper in her eyes. “Have you?”

He didn't much care for the ring of challenge in her tone. “I'm her blood kin,” he argued, sidestepping the question. “It's my responsibility to—”

She yanked the marriage papers from her handbag and held them in front of his face. “Not according to these documents.”

The woman was downright maddening. If she thought for one minute he was going to let her lay claim to Annabeth, she was going to be mighty disappointed.

 

He was maddening! Why couldn't he see that this was something she needed to do, was meant to do? It
had
to be why God had led her here.

That reminder drew Callie up short.

There she went, making assumptions again.

“I'm sorry.” She offered a conciliatory smile. “I don't believe either of us is thinking clearly right now. I'm certain we both have Annabeth's best interests at heart, and that's what counts. We just need to make certain we understand what those are.”

His expression didn't soften a bit. “The best thing for her right now is to be with her family. And that's me and her cousins.”

Callie took a deep breath and tried again. “Mr. Tyler, why don't we call a truce for the moment. At least long enough to pray about it. I'm sure God will help us resolve this if we just look to Him for guidance.”

Her oh-so-stubborn brother-in-law didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave her a peculiar look.

A prickly unease stole over her, engulfing her like a scratchy woolen cloak.

No. She must have misinterpreted his expression.

Leland and Julia had been such steadfast Christians. Surely Leland's brother…

She forced her lips to form the question.

“You
do
believe in God, Mr. Tyler, don't you?”

C
allie watched as Jack paused, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he gestured back the way they'd come. “My dad helped build that church and my mother was the organist there for years.”

She frowned. What his parents did or didn't do had nothing to do with—

“It's just, well, I'm not really the praying sort.”

The words shocked her. “I don't understand.”

He shifted his weight. “Look, I don't have anything against folks praying if they've a mind to. It's just that I don't believe in asking for handouts myself. I cotton more to the ‘God helps those who help themselves' way of thinking.”

Callie blinked. Surely she'd misunderstood. “Mr. Tyler, asking for guidance and direction from our Heavenly Father is
not
the same as asking for a handout.” She saw the skepticism in his eyes and tried again. “Besides which, there is absolutely nothing wrong with humbling ourselves before the Almighty.”

He waved his hand as if to brush her words aside. “Ma'am, you just go right ahead and pray for guidance if that makes you
feel better.” Then he folded his arms across his chest and his eyes turned flinty. “But I'm telling you right now, there's nothing on earth—or in heaven, for that matter—that's going to convince me to turn any member of my family over to a stranger, no matter how strong that stranger might think her claim is.”

Callie pursed her lips, not trusting herself to respond immediately. It wasn't about just Annabeth now. All three youngsters deserved to have a proper Christian influence in their lives. It was what their parents would have wanted for them, and it was the right thing to do. Actually, it was the most important thing.

She might not be the best person to fill that role, but God could use even the most flawed vessel to do His work. She was more determined than ever to have a hand in raising these children.

She focused again on Leland's brother. He seemed to have nothing in common at the moment with the compassionate, generous man she'd come to know through years of correspondence.

Not the praying kind indeed!

Time to try another tack. “Mr. Tyler, I find myself quite weary from the day's events, and would prefer not to stand here arguing with you. I'd like to meet Annabeth and then find a place to refresh myself, if you don't mind.”

His eyes narrowed and she wondered for a minute if he would continue to argue despite her request. But he gave a quick nod. “Of course. This way.”

As he offered his arm he gave her a warning look. “Just don't think this means I've changed my thinking. You're welcome to stick around if you've a mind to. But the care of the children—
all
of the children—is my responsibility.”

We'll just see about that
. After the briefest of hesitations,
she placed her hand on his arm, giving him her sweetest smile. “I must admit, your concern for the well-being of the children does do you credit, Mr. Tyler.”

 

Jack escorted his suspiciously compliant sister-in-law to Mrs. Mayweather's home. The woman wasn't fooling him with that winsome smile and those sugar-coated words of hers. He knew good and well she hadn't given up the battle yet.

Well, she could scheme and plot all she wanted. It didn't change his mind one jot about his duty to Annabeth, Simon and Emma.

But as they drew closer to Mrs. Mayweather's home, his thoughts turned from Lanny's widow to the three children.

What was he going to say to them? He was their closest living kin, but he'd never laid eyes on them before—not since Nell's oldest was an infant, anyway—and they certainly didn't know him.

How much had their parents told them about him? Or had the subject of their absent Uncle Jack ever even come up?

How would they react when they met him? How would he deal with their grief when he was still trying to absorb the loss himself?

His free hand clenched and unclenched. How could this woman walking beside him talk about looking to God for guidance when that same God allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? If the Almighty had wanted to take another Tyler, it should have been him. His passing, unlike that of his brother and sister, wouldn't have left a hole in anyone's life.

His face must have betrayed some of what he was thinking because Callie cast a questioning glance his way. Luckily, they had finally reached Mrs. Mayweather's front gate.

“Here we are,” he said, cutting off any comment she might
have made. He opened the gate without meeting her gaze and gestured for her to precede him up the flagstone walkway.

Before they'd made it halfway to the porch, a tall, spare woman stepped out to greet them.

Age had definitely not interfered with Mrs. Mayweather's commanding presence. From the top of her tightly wound, steel gray bun to the hem of her no-frills, severely cut skirt, she still had that force-to-be-reckoned-with schoolmarm look that could quiet a classroom full of rowdy children with just a raised brow.

“Hello, Jackson. It's good to see you back in Sweetgum again. My condolences for your loss.”

Facing her, Jack felt like a ten-year-old schoolboy again. “Thank you, ma'am.” He quickly turned to Callie. “This is—” He paused for the merest fraction of a second and she immediately stepped forward.

“Callista Tyler, ma'am. I am—was—married to Leland Tyler.”

Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “Yes. Virgil stopped by to explain the situation. Most astounding.” She paused a minute. “I must say, you seem to be holding up remarkably well under what must have been a terrible shock.”

“It's kind of you to say so, ma'am.” She gave her bonnet a tug. “I'm afraid the full impact of the situation hasn't entirely sunk in yet.”

“Understandable.” Mrs. Mayweather tilted her head thoughtfully. “Callista. Unusual name, that. You wouldn't by any chance be Julia's friend Callie.”

“Why, yes.” Her smile warmed and some of the tension eased from her stance. “It seems my fame precedes me.”

“Well then, that explains quite a bit.” The schoolteacher nodded in satisfaction as if she'd solved a puzzle of some sort. “Julia always spoke of you in such glowing terms. It's no
wonder Leland turned to you for this special kind of help after she passed on.”

She waved toward the far end of the porch. “By the way, since we weren't certain how things would sort themselves out, I instructed Virgil to deposit your baggage here for the time being.”

“Why, thank you, I—” The widow seemed a bit overwhelmed by their hostess.

Jack knew the feeling. He stepped forward. “Where are the children?”

“They're upstairs, digging through an old trunk of mine. I'll call them down shortly, but I thought it would be best if we had a chat first.”

“Of course.” Jack felt a guilty surge of relief at being able to put off the moment of truth a little longer.

Mrs. Mayweather stepped aside. “Now come on in to the parlor. You both look as if you could do with a cool glass of lemonade, and we have matters to discuss.”

Callie nodded. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

Jack removed his hat and followed the ladies inside.

“You may set your hat on the hall table there, Jackson.” She turned to Callie. “Feel free to set your bonnet and handbag there as well.”

He tensed in sympathy. What would Callie do? How would she handle this?

Once again, she surprised him. Though she moved with a sort of deliberate slowness, her initial hesitation was so brief he doubted Mrs. Mayweather noted it.

With steady hands, she loosened the strings to her bonnet and let it fall behind her head.

Mrs. Mayweather studied her for a minute. “A birthmark, I presume?” At Callie's nod, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed. I'm beginning to understand why Julia had such respect and admiration for you.”

 

Callie was startled by the woman's words and didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing. She pulled her bonnet back up, wondering exactly how much Julia had said about her and to whom.

Mrs. Mayweather raised a hand to stop her. “No need to do that on my account.”

Callie smiled, but firmly tied her ribbons. “Thank you, but I'd rather that not be the first view the children have of me.”

“As you wish.” A slight nod accompanied the words. “But I think you would be surprised by how accepting children can be.”

A few moments later, they were seated in the parlor and Mrs. Mayweather was pouring glasses of lemonade.

“I know a man of the world such as yourself would probably prefer something stronger,” she said as Jack reached for his, “but I'm afraid you will have to make do with this for now.”

“This will do just fine, thank you.” He took a long drink, then set the glass down. “So how are the young'uns doing?”

Mrs. Mayweather's face softened in concern and Callie saw a whole new side of her.

“About as one would expect. They went through such a horrid experience. At least they didn't have to witness the fire firsthand.”

Callie sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She'd worried…

“As it happens, Simon had taken Emma and Annabeth down to the livery,” Mrs. Mayweather continued briskly. “He wanted to show them a new foal that had been born the day before. When they heard the alarm, they headed back to the café. Luckily, the O'Connor sisters spotted them and had sense enough to keep them from going anywhere near the fire.”

Callie saw past the woman's businesslike tone. “And so you took them in.”

Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “I had the room and the time to see to them, since school had let out for summer the week before.”

Jack stood and moved to one of the windows. “Still, I'm very beholden,” he said without turning around.

“I just thank the Lord I had the means to step in.” She refilled Callie's glass. “But back to your question. The tragedy has affected each of them differently. Simon has turned from an active, outgoing boy to one who is belligerent and aloof.”

She waved a hand. “Emma has always been a quiet child, but now she clings to Simon like bark to a tree. She can barely stand to have him out of her sight for more than a few minutes. Simon is taking his role of big brother seriously—too seriously, if you ask me. He insisted I set his cot in the room with the girls when Emma balked at separating from him even in sleep.”

“And Annabeth?”

Mrs. Mayweather sighed. “I'm not certain. Bless her, she was just beginning to move on from the loss of her mother, then this happened. She misses her father terribly, of course. But the child, who's normally quite the little chatterbox, has barely said a word since the accident, except in answer to a direct question.”

Callie twisted her hands nervously in her skirts. “Do you think she knows? About me, I mean.”

Mrs. Mayweather gave her a sympathetic smile. “If so, she hasn't given any sign. But, as I mentioned, she hasn't said more than a handful of words since her father passed. Besides, even if Leland did say something to her, she may not have understood. She's only four, after all.”

Jack turned to face them and crossed his arms. “It doesn't
matter whether she knows or not. Like I said, Annabeth is my concern now.”

Callie carefully set her glass down, resisting the urge to retort in kind.
Lord, give me patience. Please!

She caught a measuring look Mrs. Mayweather gave the two of them.

The woman stood. “Well, I can tell the children certainly won't want for family willing to take them in. You two help yourselves to more lemonade while I let them know you're here.”

Jack's expression gave nothing away, but she saw him rub the back of his neck. Was he as nervous about facing the children for the first time as she was?

Moments later, Callie's entire being focused on the sound of footsteps tromping down the stairs.

Simon entered first, looking both ready to take on the world and achingly vulnerable at the same time. His sister, Emma, was close by his side, her arm wound tightly with his, her eyes wide and uncertain.

But it was the third and youngest of the children that captured Callie's attention. The little girl hung back a bit while still holding on to Emma's other hand.

Callie would have been able to pick Annabeth out of a ballroom full of little girls. She looked so much like Julia it made her heart ache. The same bouncy blond curls, the same bright blue eyes, the same pink bow of a mouth.

Mrs. Mayweather spoke up first. “Children, remember I told you that your Uncle Jack would be coming?” She made a flourishing movement with her hand. “Well, here he is.”

Then she gestured toward Callie. “And we also have a surprise visitor.”

Annabeth stared at Callie with wide, questioning eyes. Was it possible the child was expecting her after all?