Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  “Are there any more cookies left?” Scotty asked between gasps.

  “Lots. You can have two each. Put away your school things and do your chores.”

  The three piled into the house, and Mary returned to the pile of potatoes. Jim grabbed his cookies and headed for the barn, but Scotty and Beth Ann chose to eat theirs at the table.

  “I drew a picture in school today,” Beth Ann said. “Wanna see it?”

  “I’d love to,” Mary said, wiping her hands dry. She followed Beth Ann to her bedroom. The kindergartner sat on the edge of her bed and carefully unzipped her backpack. After sorting through several folded papers, she found what she was looking for. She was grinning proudly when she handed it to Mary.

  “Why, Beth Ann, this is very good.” Mary wasn’t entirely sure what the five-year-old had drawn. Five stick figures marked the page with a row of colored flowers.

  “It’s our family,” Beth Ann explained. “Look, there’s Uncle Travis.” She pointed to the tallest stick figure. Mary studied the sketch and realized what looked like a doughnut was actually a cowboy hat. “That’s you,” Beth Ann explained, pointing to the second figure in a skirt. “And Jim and Scotty and me.”

  A family. Mary’s chest tightened with emotion. She’d never been one who cried easily. She hated to cry, hated the way the moisture felt on her face, the way her nose got all red and started to run.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, savoring this feeling of belonging, of being a part of Beth Ann’s world. “Let’s put it on the refrigerator, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Mary continued to sniffle as she finished peeling the potatoes. It was such a small thing, yet it meant so much to her. Until she’d come to Montana her heart had felt dry and barren, parched with loneliness. She lived each day, survived each disappointment, holding on to the belief that someday, somehow, she’d find where she belonged.

  That day had arrived.

  The back door opened, and thinking it was Jim, Mary turned around to ask him if he’d set the table.

  But it wasn’t Jim.

  “Mary,” Travis whispered softly, clearly shaken. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  Ten

  The last thing Travis expected when he walked into the house was to find Mary in tears.

  “Mary, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” She continued to weep.

  “Did one of the kids upset you? Was it Jim?” The twelve-year-old was growing more and more sullen and uncommunicative. If he’d upset Mary somehow—

  “Not Jim,” Mary assured him.

  “Then, tell me. Can you tell me what happened?”

  She nodded. “Beth Ann drew me a picture.”

  Travis went still. Beth Ann had offended Mary with a drawing?

  “Look,” Mary said, motioning to the refrigerator. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Travis stared at the creased picture, wondering if Mary saw something he didn’t. As far as he was concerned, the kid didn’t reveal the least amount of artistic ability. Five stick figures and a bunch of odd-shaped flowers wasn’t worthy of such emotion. He studied Mary, thinking he might have missed something.

  Mary smiled softly and brushed the tears from her face. “You don’t see it, do you?”

  Travis squinted and scratched the side of his head. “Nope.”

  Mary laughed and resumed preparations for dinner.

  Still puzzled, Travis moved into the bathroom to wash his face and hands. Scotty came in and sat on the edge of the tub, watching him.

  “Howdy, kiddo. How was school?”

  “All right, I guess. Jim got in trouble, though.”

  Travis tensed. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me, but he was in the principal’s office. You’re supposed to sign a note.”

  Travis slapped the washcloth against the side of the sink. “Where is he now?”

  “Doing his chores.”

  Travis should have guessed something was wrong when he arrived home and found Jim working in the barn. The boy generally had to be reminded two and three times before he did what he was told. Travis couldn’t look at Jim and not feel the aggression in the youth that raged just beneath the surface. Mostly the hostility had been aimed at him. This confrontation had been stewing for weeks. The kid had an attitude, and by God, he was going to be set straight once and for all.

  Travis marched out of the bathroom and through the kitchen, not pausing, not even when Mary whirled around and asked him what was wrong.

  Jim was cleaning stalls when Travis came upon him. He certainly didn’t seem to be working with any degree of energy. Every movement was sluggish, as if he resented each lift of the pitchfork.

  “Tell me what happened at school today.”

  Jim’s shoulders tensed, and he stabbed the fork into a fresh bale of hay. “I suppose Scotty couldn’t wait to let you know I got in trouble.”

  “Never mind your brother, I’m asking about you.”

  “I got in a fight, all right?” Defiance flashed in his eyes.

  “No, it isn’t all right. Let me see the note.”

  Jim stood with his feet braced apart, and Travis realized the boy meant to defy him. They glared at each other for several moments, their eyes drilling one another. Jim’s were filled with open hostility, as if he welcomed the chance for them to fight. What the boy needed, Travis thought, was to be taken down a peg or two, and by heaven, he was the man to do it.

  The stand-off lasted only a matter of seconds before Jim sighed and reached inside his hip pocket. He removed a folded slip of paper and handed it to Travis, who peeled it open. He read Mr. Moon’s letter and cursed under his breath.

  “You started the fight and wouldn’t stop even when two teachers were pulling you off the other boy.”

  “Billy asked for a fight. I gave it to him. If you want to get all mad about that, fine. I don’t care.”

  “You’ve been asking for trouble yourself,” Travis snapped. “Billy’s a year younger than you. If you’re going to start a fight, at least be man enough to pick on someone your own size.”

  “He started it,” Jim shouted, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “And you were glad, because you’ve been looking for a reason to fight someone for a good long while. You think I don’t know that?” Travis shouted. “You’ve been in a rotten mood for months. You think I don’t know you don’t want to live with me? You think I’m so stupid I haven’t figured that out?” He paused, not wanting his anger to get the better of him, not wanting to say something he’d regret later. “Listen, hotshot, we’re stuck with each other, and we better damn well make an effort to get along. Otherwise we’re both going to be miserable.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Travis grabbed hold of Jim’s arm. “I won’t have you talking to me or anyone else like that, you hear me? You aren’t so big that I can’t wallop your behind.”

  Jim snorted and jerked his arm free. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “I’d welcome the pleasure.”

  They glared at one another, each apparently waiting for the other to move first. Travis’s threat had been empty. He had no intention of turning Jim over his knee. At twelve Jim was too old to be spanked. Travis wasn’t sure what to do with him. Something. Ground him, he guessed. Give him extra chores.

  “You were always in trouble in school!” Jim shouted.

  “I learned the error of my ways and was man enough to admit when I was wrong,” Travis told him.

  “What makes you so sure I was in the wrong?” Jim challenged. “You didn’t even bother to ask my side of the story. You automatically assumed that because Billy Watkins is a year younger that I should let him get away with pushing me around. You can beat me if you want. Mr. Moon can expel me from school, too. I hate school. I hate living with you.”

  “Well, that’s tough, because you don’t have any damn choice.”

&
nbsp; Jim’s face was beet red, and his shoulders were heaving with restrained anger. For a moment Travis thought the boy was going to break into tears. He could see him struggling to hold back the emotion.

  Travis would have given everything he owned to know what to say to Jim. He understood better than his nephew realized what it was like to hate home and school. To feel he didn’t belong either place, to have people look for the opportunity to think bad of him. His home had been lost to him when his mother deserted the family. That was when his father had given up on life and taken to drinking more than he should. Like Jim, Travis had lashed out at those around him. He’d learned life’s lessons the hard way and hoped Jim could avoid repeating the mistakes he’d made.

  “If you’re going to get in trouble at school, then you’d best learn you’ll pay the consequences at home as well.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Double your chores. When you finish here you can oil the saddles and the rest of the tack.” That would keep Jim busy for a couple of hours if not more.

  “But—”

  Travis silenced him with a look. “You want to make trouble, fine, then I assume you can take what you dish out. There’ll be no dinner for you until you’re finished. Understand?”

  Jim glared at him, belligerence simmering in his eyes. Travis didn’t give the boy the opportunity to antagonize him further. “Let me know when you’re done and I’ll check your work. When you’re finished, you’ll write Billy Watkins a letter of apology.” With that he stormed out of the barn and headed for the house, taking the porch steps two at a time.

  Mary was setting the table and looked up when he came into the kitchen. She paused, holding the dinner plates against her stomach expectantly, as if waiting for some explanation.

  “Jim brought home a note from the principal,” Travis said. He walked over to the stove to see what she was cooking for dinner. He was pleased to note it was hamburger gravy, one of his favorites. Mary certainly knew her way around a kitchen.

  “You talked to Jim?” she asked stiffly.

  Travis nodded.

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Jim started a fight.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter why. Jim knows better.”

  “Maybe so, but there could have been extenuating circumstances.”

  “There weren’t.” Travis felt the weight of her censure, and he didn’t like it. “I gave him some extra chores. When he’s finished with those he’ll be writing the other boy a letter of apology.” He was rather proud of the fact that he’d kept his cool. It hadn’t been easy with Jim’s bad attitude, but he hadn’t allowed him the upper hand.

  “You might have discussed this matter with me first.” Mary straightened to her full height, squared her shoulders, and glared at him. It was like squaring off with Jim all over again, but this time Travis didn’t doubt for a moment she was going to take the upper hand.

  Dinner was strained. Jim’s empty chair left a huge gap at the table, and in Mary’s heart. She was irritated with Travis for not discussing the incident with her before confronting Jim. They should have approached the boy together, asked for an explanation, and then decided what course they would take to right the matter. Instead Travis had reacted in anger. Depriving a twelve-year-old of his dinner until he’d finished his chores was inhumane. Jim was a growing boy. He needed his strength.

  Scotty, who normally chatted through the dinner hour, remained strangely quiet. He barely touched his meal, and that wasn’t like him, either. Even Beth Ann’s appetite wasn’t up to par. What Mary found more surprising was the sight of the five-year-old sucking her thumb.

  Jim came into the house and stood just inside the door halfway through the meal. “I’m finished now.”

  “All right,” Travis said. His chair made a grating sound as he pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll check and see what kind of job you did, and then you can sit down for dinner.”

  “I made you a plate,” Mary told him softly. She remembered the night she’d been near frantic with worry over Travis in the storm and how Jim had reassured her. He’d gathered the flashlight, candles, and matches for her. A knot developed in her throat, and her own appetite fled.

  “Jim can have my piece of cake if he wants,” Scotty offered.

  “Mine too,” Beth Ann echoed.

  Wordlessly Travis followed Jim out of the kitchen.

  “Can I be excused?” Scotty asked, his eyes downcast.

  Mary looked over his half-finished plate and nodded. She was finished herself. She carried her plate to the sink.

  “Me too,” Beth Ann said.

  “You both can have applesauce cake later,” Mary said. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

  Tears brightened Scotty’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have told Uncle Travis,” he whispered, not wanting his sister to hear.

  Mary placed her arms around his shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Travis would have learned sooner or later anyway.”

  “Jim will think I’m a squealer. I wouldn’t have said anything, but he wouldn’t let me play with his matchbox cars. He keeps them hidden from me, and it made me mad.”

  “We all do things we regret,” Mary assured him. “What’s important is learning from our mistakes.”

  “I’m never going to tell on Jim again. Never. It makes my stomach hurt.” He sobbed once and buried his face in Mary’s abdomen, crying softly.

  “Jim will forgive you, sweetheart. You’re brothers.”

  Mary couldn’t help remembering how close she was to her own brother and how dreadfully she missed him even now. Travis had been close to Lee, too. In time the squabble between Jim and Scotty would right itself.

  Jim returned to the kitchen a minute later, and Mary brought him the plate she had warming in the oven. His eyes refused to meet hers or Scotty’s.

  “Scotty, clear the table for me when Jim’s finished,” she said. “I’m going outside to talk to Travis. I might be a while, so keep an eye on your sister.”

  Mary grabbed her sweater and hurried down the back porch steps. It was dark by now, and the yard was illuminated by the lights from the kitchen and the ones in the barn. By the time she met up with Travis, who was halfway across the yard, she was furious.

  She refused ever again to let him discipline Jim when he was angry. Furthermore, she should have had some say in the matter. If she was going to be a mother to these children, she had a right to a say in their upbringing.

  “We need to talk,” she said angrily.

  “About what?” He looked taken aback.

  “Jim.”

  Travis frowned. “What about him?”

  When she was this agitated, Mary had problems properly expressing her feelings. What disturbed her most was Travis’s attitude. It was the “me Tarzan, you Jane” thing all over again.

  She knew the best way to communicate her discontent was to speak to him on his level.

  She dragged the heel of her sneaker through the dirt, creating a deep groove in the compact soil.

  “What’s that?” Travis demanded.

  “The line, and you’ve crossed it.”

  Travis’s frown deepened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’ve crossed the line with Jim and with me. I won’t have you disciplining him again without conferring with me first.” She steadied her hands against her hips and glared at him. “If we’re going to raise these children, we need to stand together as a united front. A house divided against itself is doomed.”

  Travis rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

  “You’re damn right I’m upset.”

  “Then we need to talk about it.”

  “Exactly.” Mary was somewhat surprised by his attitude. She’d fully expected a major argument to evolve from this. “But I don’t want to do it in front of the children. Especially not Jim.”

  “Fine, we’ll talk in the barn
.”

  Mary gathered the sweater more completely around her and followed him.

  Several bales of hay and feed were stacked in an empty stall. Travis went in there and gestured for her to sit down. He sat across from her and leaned forward, pressing his forearms against his thighs. “Go ahead, what is it you want to say?”

  “First off, I don’t appreciate your disciplining Jim without discussing it with me first. Furthermore, withholding dinner from a growing boy is barbaric. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I see,” he said thoughtfully.

  She felt adamant. “I mean it.”

  Travis wiped his hand down his face. “Dinner was a pretty miserable affair, wasn’t it?” he muttered almost to himself.

  “A disaster. I can’t ever remember seeing Beth Ann suck her thumb.”

  Travis glanced her way. “She does every now and again when she’s overly tired or upset. She fell into the habit for a time following the funeral, but stopped because the kids on the school bus were teasing her.”

  “Scotty’s upset, too, because he tattled. Apparently Jim wasn’t willing to let him play with his cars. Telling you about Jim’s run-in with Mr. Moon was how he chose to retaliate. He’s miserable.”

  “They’ll work it out.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “You’re right,” Travis said after a moment. “I should have conferred with you, and we could have talked to Jim together. It’s just that I’m accustomed to taking matters into my own hands. I’ll do better next time.”

  Mary watched the play of emotions cross his face. She guessed the admission that he was in the wrong had cost him dearly.

  “Are you still angry?” he asked.

  Appeased, she shook her head and smiled softly.

  “Good.” He transferred himself to her bale of hay. “Wanna kiss and make up?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Here?”

  He slipped his arm around her waist and dragged her closer to him. Mary couldn’t dredge up a smidgen of resistance. There wasn’t any available when he kissed her, either.

  She tried to imagine what her life would have been like without Travis and the children. She’d been with them only a short while and couldn’t help feeling they’d always been the most important part of her life.