Wanted: A Family (14 page)

Yanking a leggy weed and tossing it to the ground, Callie wished she could do the same to Jacob. He’d finished
trimming Mildred’s bushes hours ago, then said he had an errand to run and left. If that errand involved purchasing supplies, he should’ve been back by now.

Where had he gone?

She sighed. This was yet another example of Jacob’s secrecy. When they’d parted last night, she’d asked Jacob if he was living a lie. He’d laughed off the question as if she’d been joking, but from the disquiet in his eyes, he knew better.

Well, she refused to let that man ruin the joy of today. Soon another unwed mother would arrive. She’d help the newcomer get settled in and see what she could do to make Refuge of Redeeming Love feel like home.

While she waited, Callie took the opportunity to clear dried leaves and weeds from the front flowerbed. Thankfully, the wind had died down. The bonnet she wore protected her face from the late-afternoon sun, warm through the sleeves of her dress.

Across the way, Stripes rose on his haunches and batted at a moth. A dog barked. Most likely, Sandy had treed a squirrel. A robin flew off with strands of dead grass to incorporate in its nest. All around her, Callie saw and heard the signs of life, of renewal—all part of God’s plan. She loved spring.

Though she still had three months before her baby arrived, this bending and stretching was getting difficult. She chuckled, hoping she could get to her feet once she finished. Elise was off visiting her mother while her father cut hair at his shop.

Callie hoped the newcomer—Grace—would fit in. She’d grown accustomed to Elise in the house and Jacob nearby. As time went on, more women would come. Each one would affect the tone.

A sound alerted her to someone’s approach.

A woman, carrying a satchel, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun, wearing a plain skirt and shirtwaist and, from her expression a chip on her shoulder. Her no-nonsense look fit Callie’s image of a spinster schoolmarm more than an unwed mother.

The woman glanced at the newly painted sign Callie had hung that morning alongside the front door. Grace wasn’t as young as Callie first thought, probably older than Callie herself.

“This is the home for unwed mothers.”

“It is.” Callie smiled a welcome. “You must be Grace.”

She gave a cursory nod.

“If you’ll give me a hand up, I’d appreciate it.”

Grace took Callie’s hand and with one fluid motion pulled Callie to her feet.

“Whew, you don’t mess around.” Callie tugged at her skirts.

“Some would say that’s exactly what I did.” Grace’s tone held the biting edge of a well-honed knife.

The smile on Callie’s face faltered. “I’m Callie Mitchell.” She offered her hand, which was ignored. “Welcome to Refuge of Redeeming Love.”

“How much does it cost to stay?”

“I’d ask for help with groceries if you can afford to pay. If not, you’re still welcome. We share the chores.”

Grace nodded, but didn’t look pleased. Callie had an urge to chastise her for that haughty attitude but her conscience walloped her in the stomach. If God blessed His children according to their gratitude, there’d be far fewer rays of sunshine, drops of rain and bites to eat.

“I didn’t catch your last name.”

“I didn’t give it.” Callie waited.

“Grace. I’m not saying more.”

“Are you on the run?”

“Not from the law, if that’s what you mean.”

“From your family?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I own this house. I don’t want trouble, not here or in town. If we fail to keep the reputation of Redeeming Love spotless, I could be forced to close.”

“No one’s looking for me.”

Every trace of disdain in her eyes evaporated, replaced with a raw pain that shut off Callie’s questions. This girl needed someone to care.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

They walked to the house, Grace trailing a few steps behind. Along the way, Callie pointed out the location of the privy and other outbuildings. Inside, they climbed the stairs without Grace making one comment about her surroundings. A disappointment to Callie, who enjoyed seeing the house appreciated.

Sensing that the girl needed privacy, she led Grace to the back bedroom, the furthest from hers and Elise’s. The space to rest, to cry, to work out whatever had happened to put that baby in her belly and bring her here.

“I hope you’ll find your room comfortable.”

Grace glanced at the double bed topped with a blue and white quilt, the dresser, washstand and armoire. “It’s better than I expected.”

Not exactly praise, but it would do. “Unpack, take a nap if you’d like. Or you might take a walk around the grounds and the house.”

“I could use a nap.”

“How did you get here?”

“Hitched a ride on a wagon. Walked the rest of the way.”

“You must not live far.”

“I won’t be answering questions about where I’m from or who the father of this baby is. If that ain’t acceptable, then say the word. I’ll leave before I muss the sheets.”

At the hostility in her voice, Callie frowned. “Who should I contact if you get sick?”

“No one cares if I live or die.”

Callie folded her arms across her chest. “There are things I’ll need to know.”

“Like what?”

“Like how far along are you in your pregnancy?”

“Six months.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No.”

“I’ll get you in to see Doctor Wellman.”

“I don’t need no doctor.”

“If you’re worried that you can’t pay, he’s agreed to tend to residents of Redeeming Love whether they can afford a doctor or not.”

She shrugged, as if medical care didn’t matter, one way or another.

“I’d appreciate help preparing dinner. Come to the kitchen around five o’clock. It’s at the back of the house behind the dining room. There’s food to make, the table to set, cleanup after.”

Grace’s eyes turned cold. “I’ve worked as a domestic. I know what needs doing.”

A piece of information Callie would remember. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack.” She stepped toward the door. “Unless you need something before I go.”

“What I need you can’t give.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, if not me, then God can provide for your needs.”

“If you’re into preaching, I’m leaving.”

“I don’t preach, Grace. But talking about my faith is who I am. I did before you came and I will after you leave. If that’s not all right with you, maybe you should walk out that door.”

The young woman glanced at her feet. “I need a place to stay,” she said in a subdued voice, without a trace of belligerence.

No matter what the woman claimed, Callie could provide a need—the roof over Grace’s head. “I’m glad to have you.”

Grace turned her back, walked to the window, all but dismissing Callie.

“Well, I’ll be in the parlor. I’ve done all the gardening I care to for one day.”

No response, as if Callie hadn’t spoken. She left the room with the warnings Loretta had raised dancing through her mind. Most likely, Grace wasn’t a lawbreaker. But her cold demeanor left no doubt. She wasn’t interested in building relationships.

What had happened to her?

Well, whatever Grace had experienced, God had brought her here. Time would help. Affection would help. Prayer would help.

Or so Callie hoped. Yet doubts nagged at her. How would Grace’s presence affect the household?

With three pregnant women under one roof, and who knew how many more to come, Callie wondered if she was equal to the task of keeping everyone’s spirits up and trouble down. She’d gotten used to harmony in the house. Harmony she had no idea how to maintain.

She’d never felt more inadequate.

And more like giving Jacob Smith a piece of her mind.

Just when she needed him most, the man was nowhere to be found.

A knot twisted in her stomach. When had she started relying on a drifter?

As Callie made coffee, she glanced out the window. Rays of morning sun bounced off the barn’s tin roof. A glance at the kitchen calendar reminded her of the Peaceful Ladies Club’s Spring Tea later this morning. She’d agreed to bring a buttermilk coffee cake. Mercy, with the confusion of Grace’s arrival yesterday, she’d forgotten the event, much less her contribution.

Donning an apron, Callie’s hands stilled on the sash. This tea would be a perfect opportunity to lift Grace’s spirits. Normally, she’d have obtained permission to bring guests, but all women eighteen years and older were welcome. There would be plenty of refreshments. Two more wouldn’t matter.

Humming to herself, Callie set about the task. She’d use her talent for preparing food to help Grace feel welcome in the community. Along with Elise, they’d have a lovely time. And for a while forget their troubles. And have fun—something their situations may have denied them.

Callie measured flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt into the sifter then squeezed the handle back and forth, back and forth, mixing and refining the ingredients that dusted to the bottom of the crock.

God sifted his people, too, pushing them together to improve the whole. He’d used Grace’s sullen attitude to show Callie that she could handle Grace’s hostility. Without turning to someone exactly wrong for her. Jacob.

The man hadn’t appeared for supper last night. Nor breakfast this morning. What did she care? Hadn’t she learned not to rely on a man?

When Elise and Grace came into the kitchen, Callie talked long and hard to persuade Grace to attend the tea. She’d finally agreed, more to appease Elise, who wanted to go badly.

Finally, they’d dressed and walked the few blocks to the Ladies Club. Callie carried the coffee cake. Elise wore a smile of anticipation. Grace wore that chip on her shoulder.

Inside the front door, a knot of women chatted, oohing and aahing over each other’s goodies.

Mrs. Sunderland noticed them first and stepped forward. “This is a private club.”

Callie leveled a steely glance. “We’ve never turned anyone away, Mrs. Sunderland.”

Coming around beside her, Loretta shot Callie a look of understanding. “I’m sorry, Callie, but we’re not prepared for guests today.”

Not taken in by that nonsense, Callie wanted to say as much, but doing so would only embarrass Grace and Elise more. Though with that scowl on Grace’s face, Callie was surprised anyone dared confront them. Poor Elise looked ready to faint.

Mrs. Sunderland shook her head. “I can’t believe how far you’ll go to pursue your agenda.”

Callie’s mind went blank. “My agenda?”

“Everyone knows you need money to repair and keep up your house. Soliciting funds for unwed mothers is a clever way to look out for
your
interests, not the community’s.” She swept a hand. “Or these girls. Elise should be home with her parents.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Honor your father and mother is a commandment, yet you’ve aided her rebellion.”

Callie wouldn’t break Elise’s mother’s confidence. But even if she knew that Sarah supported her daughter’s
actions, Mrs. Sunderland wouldn’t be moved. She didn’t have a heart.

Tugging Elise along, they headed out the door. Grace shot her a glare. “You’re using us for your own benefit.” She scoffed. “I knew your motives were too good to be true.”

“Grace,” Elise said, taking her arm. “Mrs. Sunderland will say anything to destroy Redeeming Love.”

As they retraced their steps toward home, Callie could barely put one foot in front of the other. What a fool she’d been to expose Grace and Elise to censure. She’d wanted to give hurting women some fun. Her intentions had been good. But everything she’d planned had gone awry. She’d failed. Yet again. Only this time, Elise and Grace had been affected by the consequences of her bad decisions.

After this, Grace would probably never trust her.

Where would all this lead?

J
ake hadn’t seen Callie since his return from Indianapolis. He hoped his absence hadn’t built another wall between them, but he still wasn’t ready to talk about his mother.

The hours he’d spent at the State Capitol hadn’t produced any solid evidence about his birth mother. He’d talked to several senators. Only one had served in the Senate with Wesley Squier. He’d remembered conversations they’d had about his wife and daughter. Told Jake that Squier had lost his appetite for politics, moved back East to his wife’s hometown, though he couldn’t recall where. He assumed Irene had gone with her parents.

Jake checked records at the courthouse and back issues of newspapers in the city’s library, but found no mention of Wesley Squier, except for his announcement not to run for a fourth term. The article didn’t mention his wife or daughter.

Wherever the family had gone, they apparently hadn’t lived in the area for years. Irene couldn’t have mailed those postcards, which meant he’d been on a wild goose chase.

With his lack of success weighing him down, he slogged toward the barn to get the tools he’d need to repair the water-damaged parlor ceiling.

Across the way, Callie plopped the milking stool and pail down alongside the cow. Soaking up her presence, he brushed off the setback, wanting only to make Callie’s load easier. “Hi,” he said. “Let me do the milking for you.”

At his greeting, Callie jerked up her head.

Her beauty socked him in the gut. He’d missed her, as if he’d been gone for days instead of less than twenty-four hours. His gaze swept over her, then settled on her eyes. Eyes as turbulent as stormy seas and weary, as if she could barely keep her seat.

His pulse ratcheted. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine. Or sound fine for that matter. Was she upset about his absence? “Is something bothering you?”

She glanced away, as if she didn’t want to confide in him. Disappointment at the remoteness between them sank to his belly. “Are you angry that I didn’t tell you where I’ve been?”

“Why would you think I care?” she said in a tone as frigid as a mountain stream. “You have a right to come and go as you please.”

“That look in your eyes suggests otherwise.”

“If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night. I couldn’t get Grace off my mind.”

“Who’s Grace?”

“If you’d been around, you’d know Grace is an unwed mother and a resident. And she and Elise were refused admittance to the Ladies Club this morning.”

“Why?”

“Why do you suppose?”

“Mrs. Sunderland at work?”

She nodded. “I had every right to bring visitors, but no one spoke up, even Loretta.”

“You care too much. You’re going to get sick if you don’t keep your distance emotionally.”

She harrumphed. “That’s occurred to me. And not merely regarding Grace.”

It didn’t take a genius to understand her meaning. Unable to meet that probing gaze, he looked away.

She sighed. “I believe God brings people into my life for a reason. I just need to understand what purpose He has for me.” She rose and strode to Jake. “As for you, at first I thought God brought you here to repair my house. But now I believe His reason is far bigger, far more important.”

Jake turned on a booted heel. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need help, I’ll be in the parlor plastering the chink in the ceiling. Purpose enough for me.”

“Whatever reason you’re in Peaceful, Jacob,
your
purpose may not be God’s objective.”

The comment stopped him, made him turn back. How could he respond to that?

With every particle of his being, he wanted her touch. Wanted her with a desperation that left him shaken. But what Callie needed, he couldn’t give, didn’t even possess. “I don’t believe God works in a doubter’s life.”

She gave a gentle smile. “God works in anyone’s life He chooses, even those who haven’t accepted Him.” Then she returned to Bossy, putting her back to him.

Callie’s behavior left him baffled. One minute she appeared upset with him, the next she talked about his purpose as if she cared about his life. What man understood a woman’s thoughts? All he’d wanted to do was give her a helping hand. Not dig into purpose and faith.

He gathered the ladder and tools, trying to put Callie out of his mind the only way he knew how—with hard work and steely determination to find his birth mother.

If she left Peaceful to give birth, she could’ve returned with no one the wiser. He’d talk to Mildred Uland again. See if a woman in town had disappeared for months then come back.

In the parlor, a woman he’d never seen before had holed up on the couch. She looked up from leafing through a magazine and shot him a scowl. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark disposition. This had to be Grace, the newcomer.

“Hello,” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.

She gave him a cursory nod, not exactly friendly, but then he hadn’t been, either.

“Excuse the interruption. I’m here to repair the ceiling.”

“Fine with me.”

“I’m Jake Smith. I’m remodeling the house for Callie.”

She shrugged. Not giving her name.

While ignoring Callie’s latest arrival and her attitude, he cleared out the furniture and rug, set the ladder beneath the water damage and went about the task of laying a thin coat of plaster.

He had no interest in getting to know Grace, but he would like to know why she had gotten involved with a shiftless man who lacked the decency to propose marriage. Who lacked one grain of commitment or responsibility, gave not one thought to the consequences of his actions.

The realization that he’d just described his father landed in Jake’s belly with a thud. Why had he blamed only his birth mother all this time? Those postcards were the reason. How could a mother send an annual birthday greeting, yet make no effort to see her child?

His hand tightened on the handle of the trowel, digging into the wet plaster, marring the repair. With care, he added
plaster then smoothed the edges until he could no longer see the gouge. He climbed down the ladder, leaving the repair to dry.

As he turned to go, something about Grace reading a magazine while everyone else worked struck him as wrong. “Callie’s out milking. Elise is gathering eggs. You could be helping with chores instead of sitting here like a princess on her throne.”

“I’m no princess. No mind reader, either. If she wants help, she should ask.”

“Callie probably assumes that you’re not up to working and is excusing you for not carrying your weight. Someone like Callie can’t imagine that some people are takers, not givers.”

Grace’s eyes turned icy. “You’re no doubt taking a wage. You hardly have room to talk.”

“My wages are the same as yours. A roof over my head and three meals a day.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t sit idle.”

She shot him a glare. “Mind your own business. And I’ll mind mine.”

“Callie’s having a baby, too. She shouldn’t be waiting on you hand and foot.”

At the reference to her pregnancy, the woman all but snarled. “Get lost.”

Before she ruined her health, Jake would suggest that Callie set up a schedule to divide the work. Not that she’d appreciate his interference. But in a couple of weeks, Elise would give birth. A baby would make even more work for Callie.

If only he could stay until Callie’s baby was born, and Callie was back on her feet. But the unwed mother from Bloomington could arrive at any time and identify him. Then all havoc would break loose.

Pretending to sip a lukewarm cup of tea, Callie sat on the fringed sofa in her mother-in-law’s heavily draped parlor, surrounded by an abundance of knickknacks of every size and shape—a signed baseball, bronzed baby shoes, a tarnished silver rattle—all reminders of Martin. Martin’s pictures filled the mantle and piano, lined the walls. With the stuffy room closing in on her, Callie couldn’t wait to leave.

Dorothy sat at her side, her gaze traveling the room, the lone worshipper in a shrine to her son.

With a shaky hand, Callie set the teacup on the saucer with a clatter. She’d spent the last half hour choking down cup after cup, looking for an opening in the conversation to discuss the financial needs of the unwed mothers’ home.

Once she broached the subject, Callie felt certain she could count on Dorothy’s support. Unlike Jacob, who’d dared to disapprove of Grace’s behavior. As if he had the right to object to anything. Why couldn’t he see that Grace’s fragile emotional state proved the newcomer needed their understanding and patience?

The sensation of a tiny moving arm or leg rippled across Callie’s stomach. Awed at the miracle of the baby growing inside her, Callie laid a hand over the spot.

“Is the baby moving?” Dorothy leaned closer. “Can I feel it?”

Callie moved Dorothy’s hand to her abdomen and held it there. At another kick, Dorothy closed her eyes, almost as if praying. “It’s your grandma, sweet baby.”

She lifted her gaze to Callie. “Bless you, dear. This child you’re carrying will give us back a piece of our son. It breaks my heart that he’ll never see his child.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, we miss him. His absence aches in our bones, blankets our every moment with sadness.”

Uncertain what she could say that would comfort Dorothy, Callie simply patted her hand. The promise of Heaven and assurance of seeing loved ones again eased but didn’t eliminate the heartache for those who grieved.

Dorothy heaved a sigh laden with pain and weariness. “I know Martin wasn’t a perfect husband. That’s hard to admit about my only child.” She gave a shaky smile. “He was gregarious, spontaneous, fun-loving and…irresponsible and self-centered.” Dorothy’s gaze clouded. “Commodore and I are at fault for that. We spoiled our son.”

“I’m sure I’ll do the same with my baby,” Callie said, trying to soothe Dorothy’s regrets, yet knowing Martin’s mother spoke the truth.

Fighting for control, Dorothy looked around the gloomy space, more mausoleum than living room. Callie wanted to rip off the heavy curtains covering the windows, open the casements. Fresh air would do Dorothy good, more than anything Callie could say or do.

She wrapped her mother-in-law in her arms. “Martin had a kind heart. He never said a harsh word to anyone.”

“You were patient with him. You gave our son happiness,” Dorothy said, a tremor in her voice.

“His strengths were the reason I loved him.”

“I understand.” Dorothy fiddled with the narrow gold band on her finger. “More than you know.”

How many women could acknowledge such a thing about their only child, especially after his death? Callie’s breath caught. Perhaps a woman who lived with the pain of her own troubled marriage?

Fighting to regain her footing after Dorothy’s emotional admission, Callie wondered if she should broach the subject of money. But with two unwed mothers in the house and their babies on the way, Callie needed funding now.

As she got to the reason for her visit, Dorothy
straightened. “I agree with your unwed mothers’ home. In principle. But I can’t support it. I’m worried that you’re being foolhardy and not putting your baby first.” Dorothy plucked at something on her sleeve, lint or a thread perhaps, only visible to her. “I hate to tell you this, dear, but I thought you ought to know…before the letter arrives.”

A python of foreboding wrapped around Callie’s throat and squeezed, shutting off her air. “Letter?”

“The members of the Peaceful Ladies Club met yesterday and voted to revoke your membership.”

“What?”

“Oh, Callie, I’m sorry.” Her eyes flashed. “The women believe your unwed mothers’ home is in conflict with Ladies Club bylaws and God’s commandments.”

Callie wanted to protest but the words lodged in her throat.

“They assert that providing refuge for these fallen girls is, in essence, coddling sinners and sending a message to the youth of this town that contradicts Scripture.”

Callie’s pulse pounded in her temples. These women thought she’d broken God’s commandments. “I can’t believe they’d do this. Aunt Hilda was one of the founders of the Ladies Club.”

“I reminded them of that, but the leadership felt the home would bring nothing good to Peaceful. You’ll get a detailed summary of their objections and action.”

These women were her friends. They’d been there for her when Aunt Hilda died. When Martin died. They’d hugged her. Prayed for her. And she’d done the same for them. She’d served on Ladies Club committees, hosted meetings and social events, taken food into their homes in times of crisis. Last year, she’d cared for the president’s children when Karen came down with influenza.

Now they were tossing her out.

“You know, Callie, you leaped into this without a plan in place. You don’t have the money to finance the home, yet you have two unwed mothers living there. You’re ruffling feathers of the people you need to help you. If you’d paved the way, perhaps they would’ve seen the unwed mothers’ home from your perspective.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t support what you’re doing, especially when the consequences could hurt my grandchild.”

“I’d never do anything that would harm my baby.”

Dorothy’s praise of Callie’s treatment of Martin was mere words. She wanted to defend herself, to demand that the women of the Ladies Club show a Scriptural basis for kicking her out. The injustice of it all churned within her.

Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord.

No, she didn’t want vengeance. She wanted vindication.

Be patient.

She took a deep breath and counted to ten. These women would discover that the town wouldn’t be turned upside down by these girls, as it feared.

Or would it? God had a way of doing that very thing. A flipped view of their world might be what the folks in this town needed.

“I have more bad news.” Dorothy didn’t meet Callie’s eyes.

Every muscle in Callie’s body tensed, sensing that losing her membership in the Ladies Club was only the beginning of the trouble ahead.

“I want you to understand that I don’t believe a word of this gossip. I know you. Know your faith. But all this trouble with these girls is turning this town into something ugly.”