They left Mr. Shultz and the children in the parlor and sat at the kitchen table. Mrs. Shultz pulled each of the items from the bag, one at a time, pausing to explain about each.
“This,” she said, pulling out a dark blue blanket, “was made for him by his mother. As was this.” She pulled out what looked like a wad of rags and handed it to him.
On closer inspection, Sawyer discovered it was a cloth doll of sorts, though it had floppy ears like a rabbit and stubby arms and legs.
Mrs. Shultz smiled down at the raggedy object. “It’s not the prettiest of toys, but Aaron seems to have an attachment to it. If he gets fussy, this has a way of distracting him.”
Sawyer looked at the cloth toy with a little more respect. “That’s good to know.”
Next she pulled out a stack of cloth. “These are some clothes and diapers, and you’ll find some spare pins in the bottom of the bag.”
Diapers and what they signified was not something he wanted to dwell on.
“Here are the bottles you’ll use to feed him with—I’ll show you what you need to know about that in a moment.” She reached into the bag once more. “But this last item is what I really wanted to show you.” She pulled out a small wooden box and handed it to him without opening it. “These are some personal things that belonged to Aaron’s parents. I know he will treasure them and what they represent when he is older.”
Sawyer lifted the lid and saw a locket, a pair of rings, and a pocket watch. There was also a tintype of a nicely dressed couple, formally posed—a wedding picture perhaps? He held the tintype up. “I take it these are his parents.”
Mrs. Shultz nodded.
Sawyer put the items back in the box. “I’ll make sure these are kept safe until AJ is old enough to take possession of them.”
She patted his hand. “I know you will.” Then she straightened. “Now, we must get to your lessons.”
“Lessons?” Sawyer wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“On how to care for little Aaron, of course.”
First she took one of the bottles. “Did you get the cans of milk I asked for?”
“Yes ma’am. They’re right there on the counter.”
“Please open one can of condensed milk and one can of evaporated milk for me.”
While he complied, she kept speaking. “Some people give their babies condensed milk only, but I think it is best to mix it with an equal amount of evaporated milk.”
She instructed him on how to mix the milk, watching as he carried out her directions. Then she gave him an approving smile. “Well done. Now, I imagine Aaron is ready for his supper, so you can feed him.”
Sawyer felt a momentary panic. “Don’t you think you should demonstrate for me first?”
But she shook her head. “You must grow accustomed to doing these things yourself—the sooner, the better. But don’t worry, I’ll be nearby to make sure you do it properly.”
They moved to the parlor where Katherine was on the floor, keeping AJ, ensconced in his wicker basket, entertained under Mr. Shultz’s watchful eye.
His would-be instructor waved to the little boy. “Now pick him up.”
Sawyer would have preferred to try to pick up a rattler. “What if I drop him?”
“You won’t. Just make sure you support all of him.”
He bent over to scoop the baby up, the sweat popping out on his forehead as he gingerly straightened. It was as if he were holding a large and incredibly fragile egg that he was in imminent danger of dropping.
Mrs. Shultz gave him a sympathetic if somewhat amused look. “Am I to take it you’ve never held an infant before?”
So it showed. “Only those few seconds in the mercantile today.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You will grow comfortable with it soon enough. Just don’t let him squirm out of your arms. Now take a seat in the rocker.”
The rocking chair that held a place of honor in the parlor had belonged to his mother. It was where she’d sat to do her sewing and darning and to read her bible in the evening. He couldn’t remember anyone else ever sitting there.
But, with a baby in the house, perhaps it was time. He was sure his mother would have approved.
After he gingerly settled into the rocker, Mrs. Shultz handed him the bottle. “Just put the bottle to his lips. He’ll do the rest. And relax.”
That was easy for her to say. But to Sawyer’s surprise, AJ immediately latched onto the bottle and began feeding.
Mrs. Shultz smiled approvingly. “You see, it’s quite simple.” Then her expression shifted to an almost comical dismay. “Oh, I almost forgot.” And without another word she bustled off in the general direction of the kitchen.
What had she forgotten? Was there something else that should be in AJ’s bottle? Should he pull the bottle away until she returned?
Before he could panic she was back, a clean dishrag in her hands. “It is always best to have a towel at hand in case the baby dribbles or spits up.”
Sawyer’s pulse quickened in alarm. Spits up? That didn’t sound pleasant at all. What was he supposed to do when it happened?
Mrs. Shultz draped the towel over Sawyer’s shoulder, then stepped back and nodded in satisfaction.
When AJ finally came up for air a few minutes later, there was very little milk left in the bottle. Sure enough, a moment later the baby gave a loud burp and gurgled up some of the milk. Sawyer grimaced as he quickly tried—and failed—to catch the majority of the white glop with the rag Mrs. Shultz had furnished. Equal amounts landed on his shirt and the baby.
There was a sudden rumble, and then Sawyer got a whiff of something very unpleasant.
Mrs. Shultz gave him an amused smile. “It appears to be time for your next lesson—how to clean him up and change his diaper.”
What? Surely she didn’t expect him to change a dirty diaper already? But from the look she was giving him, it appeared that was exactly what she was expecting. “Perhaps it would be better if you—”
She cut him off with a raised hand. “I am here to teach, not do. The quickest way for you to learn is to do it yourself.”
He tried to marshal up another argument, but she again cut him off. “This is something young mothers deal with every day, Mr. Flynn. Surely you can deal with it as well?”
Feeling properly chastised, Sawyer accepted his fate. She was right—if young mothers could handle it, how bad could it be?
Unfortunately, it was much, much worse than he’d imagined. Struggling not to breathe while he followed Mrs. Shultz’s instructions, he thought more than once that he might lose his supper. How one tiny baby could make such a large, nasty, smelly mess was beyond him. Twenty very unpleasant minutes later, AJ was clean and fresh and gurgling contentedly in Mrs. Shultz’s arms while Sawyer was in the backyard, hands braced on his knees, taking in deep breaths of blessedly fresh air. There was no way he was ever going to get used to that. He needed to find someone to help out and he needed to do it soon.
He finally straightened, and taking one last cleansing breath, he returned to the kitchen. He only felt slightly guilty when he realized Mrs. Shultz had already taken care of cleaning up all signs of what had occurred.
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “The first time is always the worst. You’ll get used to it in no time.”
Sawyer very much doubted that.
Then she stood, still cradling AJ on her shoulder. “Now, it’s time to put this little one down for the night. He’ll sleep in his bassinet.”
“Of course. I’ll bring it to your room right away.”
“Oh no, Aaron will be sleeping in your room.”
He should have anticipated this. “But—”
“It’s best to start as you intend to go on. Aaron has had too many changes in his life this past month. It will be best to start establishing new routines for him right away.”
Sawyer tried to come up with an argument that would overturn her logic, but in the end she had her way. So he placed the
basket on the floor near his own bed.
“He will outgrow this soon,” Mrs. Shultz said, “but for now it will do. And it has the advantage of being familiar to him.”
Hopefully AJ would have moved on to whatever of his mother’s kinfolk would be providing his permanent home before he grew much bigger.
“Perhaps you should think about purchasing or borrowing a crib soon.”
She laid the drowsing infant in the basket, placed his rag doll close by, and covered him with his blanket. Then she motioned for Sawyer to follow her out of the room.
“It’s quite possible he will sleep through the night,” she said in a soft voice, “but if he wakes, sometimes a few gentle pats and soft words will soothe him enough to put him back to sleep. If not, make sure you have a bottle and a clean diaper handy.”
Sawyer raked a hand through his hair as he fervently hoped AJ would indeed sleep through the night.
Mrs. Shultz patted his arm. “Do not worry. No matter what happens, I am quite certain you will both survive the night just fine.”
Sawyer tried one more time. “Are you sure he wouldn’t be better off in your room?”
But she shook her head firmly. “This will be good for the both of you.” She shook a finger at him. “You are to pretend I am not here unless the baby gets sick or injured.”
Later that night, Sawyer studied the sleeping infant by the faint glow of a lamp. It was the third time he’d gotten up to check on AJ, and it wasn’t even midnight yet. Luckily, each time he’d discovered AJ was only shifting or making noises in his sleep, so he hadn’t required any special attention.
Perhaps he was being overly attentive. Sawyer lay back on his bed, still fully dressed except for his boots. Surely it was safe to relax and try to get a little shut-eye.
Ten minutes later, AJ let out a mewl of displeasure, jerking Sawyer out of his half-sleep state. He sat up but didn’t immediately get out of bed. Perhaps the babe would simply go back to sleep as he had before.
No such luck.
Sawyer knelt beside AJ’s basket and tried patting him as Mrs. Shultz had suggested. When that didn’t work, he attempted humming.
Unfortunately, AJ’s cries only grew more insistent, so Sawyer finally picked him up, reached for the bottle he’d prepared ahead of time, and sat on the lone chair in his room. It took a couple of tries before AJ finally latched on and began smacking greedily as he settled in to his feeding.
When AJ was done, he needed his diaper changed, which Sawyer handled clumsily, but at least he managed not to stab the baby with the pins.
Relieved and a bit proud of himself for weathering his first hurdle as the infant’s sole caretaker, Sawyer laid AJ back down and placed the blanket over him.
But AJ had other ideas. He scrunched up his face and let out a wail. Sawyer quickly tried patting and even a bit of awkward crooning, but the wails only got louder.
Was something wrong? The baby was fed and clean, what else could cause such a fuss? Was he ill?
Sawyer picked him up and scanned his face for signs of illness. AJ stared back at him, gave a sniff, and then snuggled happily on Sawyer’s shoulder. Sawyer’s relief that the infant didn’t seem to be ill quickly changed to worry over what to do next. He paced around the room, gently patting AJ until he was certain the baby was sleeping.
Once again Sawyer gently laid the baby down. But before he could fully straighten, AJ let out another wail of protest. With a barely suppressed groan, Sawyer picked AJ up and once again paced back and forth until the infant fell asleep. This time Sawyer gave it a few extra minutes to ensure the baby was fully asleep. But again, as soon as he laid the infant down, piteous cries went up.
The next few hours passed in just that way. As long as Sawyer held him, AJ was content, but whenever he tried to set him down, the unhappy infant sent up a wail that Sawyer was certain could be heard halfway down the street.
Chapter 6
Emma Jean stared with a sinking heart at what remained of her vegetable garden. Sometime during the night, something—several deer from the looks of the tracks—had gotten through the fence and eaten and trampled most of the plants. She would be lucky to harvest even a bushel from what remained.
“What are we gonna do?” Henry asked.
“We’re going to get to work and see what we can salvage. Why don’t you fetch the hoe and trowel, and I’ll get a bushel basket and some stakes and twine.”
Two hours later Emma Jean sat back on her heels and looked around. They had harvested a mere half bushel of produce, not all of it whole. Of the few plants that were still holding on, she’d guess at least a third of them were unlikely to make it through to harvest.
Mentally tallying up the jars of vegetables and fruit she’d already managed to put up, Emma Jean came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that even if she aggressively stretched things, there wasn’t going to be enough to feed her and Henry through the winter.
She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, grimacing as she felt the grit against her skin. Could they possibly earn enough from train passengers to help make up the difference? If only she still had her laundry customers. Even if it hadn’t been easy, it had at least been a steady income of sorts.
She fisted her hands, wanting to scream her frustration to the heavens. How many more disasters could be piled on her shoulders? If only her pa had just disappeared, had ridden off to do his thieving and cheating elsewhere.
Committing his crimes here in their own backyard had made his children outcasts among the townsfolk. To steal money that was intended for the schoolhouse was bad enough, but to kill sweet, harmless Lanny in the process was just too awful to contemplate.
Then she took herself to task for her piteous attitude—after all, there were folks facing bigger troubles than this.
Sawyer Flynn for instance. He’d lost so much more than she had. How could one compare the loss of a brother to financial troubles? She glanced toward Henry and knew she would gladly suffer through whatever hardship came her way to keep her brother safe. She’d just have to figure out some way to earn enough to get them through.
She stood and caught Henry’s gaze and tried to dredge up a smile. “I think we’ve done all we can for now. Why don’t you get these vegetables in the house while I clean off the tools?”
As she trudged to the hand pump, her thoughts turned again to Sawyer. She’d always considered him a fair-minded, good man. Even after his wife left him, he hadn’t turned bitter or mean spirited. Truth be told, that’s when she’d started seeing him as more than a mercantile owner.
Would he ever stop seeing her as the daughter of his brother’s murderer? If she could get him to at least tolerate her, she could not only feel comfortable shopping at his mercantile again, but his acceptance might also make it easier for the rest of the town to see her in a different light.
Would having that new baby in his life soften him, make him more forgiving?
Then she paused. Based on what she’d overheard yesterday, he was planning to make arrangements of some sort. That had to mean he wanted to hire someone to help care for the baby. Why couldn’t that someone be her?
She knew how to take care of babies. After all, she’d help raise Henry since the day he was born. And she certainly liked babies.
If only she could get him to see past her name.
Then again, why couldn’t she? All she had to do was convince him she was the best person for the job.
Emma Jean drew her shoulders back. She’d never know if she could pull it off if she didn’t at least try.
“Good day, ladies.” Sawyer watched the Anderson sisters make their exit, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was the first break he’d had all morning. Normally he’d be glad to have so many folk come through the mercantile, but today’s rush of visitors had more to do with curiosity than the need to make purchases.
A few of the ladies had offered to help him care for the baby, but none had been willing to do it on a full-time basis, so h
e’d thanked them all politely, softening his lack of enthusiasm with a promise to think about it.
And after the night he’d had last night, it was all he could do to respond to the more blatant busybodies with some modicum of tact.
He’d hoped Mrs. Shultz would take pity on him and take over with AJ at some point, but apparently she was going to be as good as her word and leave him to his own resources. After three hours with no relief in sight, it had been all he could do not to throw pride to the winds and beg her to help.
But Sawyer had resisted, and finally, just before dawn, he’d climbed into bed and, leaning on pillows propped against the headboard with AJ still snug in his arms, had managed to get a little shut-eye.
If that was what he had to look forward to in the next several weeks, he didn’t know how he was going to make it. He sure hoped Mrs. Martin had found him a good helper. At this point he’d settle for just fair credentials.
One thing his tired mind had managed to dredge up was the memory that the crib he and Lanny had slept in as babes was likely still in the attic. He’d find it and bring it downstairs as soon as he got home this evening. Perhaps having a proper bed would help AJ sleep through the night.
Another yawn escaped him, and he thought longingly of the cot he had back in the storeroom. Perhaps he could close the store for just an hour or so and—
Before he could put thought to action, the shop bell sounded. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he turned to greet his new customer.
And then froze.
All thoughts of sleep fled as he recognized the brown-haired female standing hesitantly just inside the doorway.
Chapter 7
Emma Jean Gilley had had the good sense to avoid his shop since the day her father murdered Lanny. What was she doing here now? Did she honestly think enough time had passed that his anger would have cooled?
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring her down as he waited for her to speak first.
Sawyer (Bachelors And Babies Book 6) Page 3
