Of course, he’d done nothing to make her smile, and after getting slapped yesterday, he likely never would.
He leaned against the window frame as he studied her. He’d been a fool to have ever messed with a girl so pretty. Of course, he’d not realized how pretty Mercy would grow up to be—not that that should’ve affected how he treated her. Even if she hadn’t been pretty, her heart for these children was beautiful in and of itself.
And all he’d done yesterday was darken his name on her list of men she’d never consider marrying.
Why hadn’t Nicholas called him into his office to fire him for misconduct—or at least reprimand him? Had Mercy not told their boss, or had Nicholas figured his getting slapped was enough to keep him from kissing her again?
She’d said she forgave him, and yet she still brought up their past in almost every conversation. If only he could make things better by letting her slap him for every insult he’d ever directed at her, every time he’d ever tripped her, every joke he’d told behind her back.
“I thought you told me you weren’t going to marry Miss McClain.” Robert’s voice broke the silence.
Aaron frowned and turned to look at the boy. He surely couldn’t have been reading his mind. “What are you talking about?”
“The day we played marbles you told me you wouldn’t be marrying her.”
Wouldn’t and didn’t want to were far different things. “Why aren’t you doing your math instead of asking me silly questions?”
Jimmy snorted. “Because you look like a love-sick mooncalf staring out that window.”
He stiffened. “No, I don’t.”
Robert shook his head. “We’re not blind.”
“Yeah, and it’s making me nauseous.” Jimmy faked a dry heave. “So why don’t you kiss her already and be done with it?”
Aaron shook his head and looked away. Thankfully his beard covered most of his face, since it turned hot all of a sudden. “That would be nauseated, and you can’t just go grab a woman and kiss her.” He’d certainly learned that yesterday.
If Jimmy and Robert could see such thoughts on his face, he needed to be more careful about how he looked at Mercy from now on or she’d slap him again for merely looking at her.
“Why not, if you want to?” Jimmy asked.
Robert looked at Aaron with narrowed eyes. “So you don’t deny liking her?”
Aaron scratched his nose. He wasn’t obligated to answer pesky questions. He left the window. “You need to finish your ratios, Robert.”
He shrugged. “Already have.”
Good—checking his math would move them away from this conversation. Aaron scanned his work. “You can go.”
Robert needed no more encouragement and was out the door.
But what to do with Jimmy?
Dinner would be in half an hour. Too late to start gardening, but with Owen acting so happy, he’d rather spend this sliver of time with him over Jimmy—though he still hadn’t figured out what he’d done to make Owen so leery of him. Between tutoring, reading gardening books, and work, he hadn’t had much time to come up with what he could try to do to alleviate the boy’s mistrust.
“Come with me.” He gathered his books and headed down the hallway, Jimmy following with leaden feet.
At the back door, he pointed outside. “I want you to run around the backyard.” He drew a big circle in the air indicating the path he wanted Jimmy to follow. “Twenty minutes should be enough, but if you need longer to burn off all the energy you’re spending on being a pain to everyone within arm’s reach, keep running. While you run, I’d suggest you think about why it’s best to treat others the way you want to be treated. I’d like to hear your thoughts on that when you’re done.”
The boy just eyed him.
Aaron crossed his arms and glowered. If he lost this battle, he was pretty much done. “Or if you prefer, I’ll spend the rest of the day scouring your room, every inch of the grounds, and the mansion from top to bottom to find where you’ve stashed your pipe and tobacco.”
The boy’s jaw grew hard, but he walked off the porch in a huff and started around the yard. He was jogging more than running, but Aaron wouldn’t quibble.
Hopefully he could make headway with Owen while Jimmy tired himself out.
He turned to see Owen digging in the dirt while the women watched him from a bench. Not exactly a good place for a ditch, but if he scolded the boy, he’d run off.
Going back into the conservatory, he laid down his books, took two trowels from the workbench, and headed outside, skirting the women. As much as he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off Mercy from inside the music room, he couldn’t look at her now. Mercy might see whatever Jimmy and Robert had seen. And she wouldn’t like that at all.
“Hello, buddy.”
Owen quit stabbing his stick in the dirt and froze.
Aaron stooped a few feet away and flipped a trowel in his hand. “If you want to dig, I have the perfect job for you. There’s a bush by the back shed that needs to be relocated.” Of course, he was just going to relocate it to the burn pile, but at least that hole wouldn’t be in the middle of a path.
The boy only stared at him with wide eyes, like always.
Aaron fidgeted. He’d been sure this would work. Owen had been nothing but smiles the entire hour Robert had spent struggling through his math problems.
If he couldn’t figure out why Owen didn’t like him, why would Mercy—or Nicholas even—trust him with the boy? Aaron rubbed his chin, letting his long whiskers slip across his knuckles. “You want to play marbles instead?”
The boy shook his head slightly, still crouched and stiff, like a gargoyle, seemingly entranced by his beard.
Aaron stopped his hand, then smoothed his whiskers down. Maybe . . .
He got up and headed toward the women.
Mercy wouldn’t even look at him, but Patricia did.
“How does Owen act with Mr. Parker?”
Patricia scrunched her lips to the side. “The driver? I don’t know. How should a boy act with a driver?” She looked at Mercy, who continued to stare at her lap. “He’s quiet, I suppose.”
“Quieter than normal?”
Patricia shrugged, yet nodded at the same time. “I guess.”
“Thanks.” He stalked off toward his cabin. Mr. Parker was the only other man with a beard around the orphanage. Anyone who’d ever resembled Aaron’s uncle had automatically made him wary. Perhaps that was Owen’s problem. He was five, after all.
He didn’t know much about Owen’s past except that his mother had been beaten by a return customer. But even if that man had no beard, someone else Owen feared might have one.
Which meant shaving was worth a shot.
Jimmy was now walking around the yard, but even from a distance, it was clear the boy was breathing heavily. Seemed he might need to have him do this running thing every day.
Aaron stepped into his cabin and quickly dispensed with his whiskers. As he ran the razor over his face a second time, he had to stop himself from shaking his head. He looked twelve. A baby face atop huge shoulders. His whiskers had at least covered his boyish dimples. He sighed and washed out his brush. Too late to do anything about it now.
Wiping the foamy soap off his ears, he sighed one last time at his bare skin. It had been two years since he’d shaved, and considering he’d spent most of the last few weeks in the sun, half of his face didn’t match the other. If this didn’t help with Owen, hopefully his beard would grow back quickly.
At least the boy might get a good laugh out of it.
He straightened his shoulders and went back to the garden.
Once again he avoided the women, for an entirely different reason this time, and grimaced at what Owen was doing now. He shouldn’t have left him the trowels. Owen had done a lot more damage with them than with the sticks. He stopped beside Owen and waited for the boy to look up.
When he finally did, Owen tilted his head and furrowed his brows.
>
He certainly would look like an entirely different man, though nothing could disguise his bulky size. “Would you like to dig up that bush with me now?”
The boy tilted his head farther, poking out his lower lip a bit. He scanned Aaron’s face twice, but then shook his head.
Aaron stooped down beside him again. “Are you looking for some sort of treasure?”
“No.”
“Well, why don’t we refill this trench and go to the pond, where there’s mud and rocks. That way we could make rivers with our trenches.” Hopefully having Jimmy tag along wouldn’t ruin everything. He caught sight of Jimmy at the far edge of the lawn, kicking rocks in his path.
Owen glanced at the women, then back at him. “I can’t get muddy. It’s almost dinnertime, and . . .” He looked down shyly and shrugged.
“Right.” Too soon to trust him that much. But the boy had actually thought about going with him, so . . .
Aaron pushed dirt back into the little ditches. “What about marbles, then?”
Owen looked at him for a second but didn’t move or answer.
Aaron put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all righ—”
Without a word, Owen hopped up and went over to sit with Mercy, who’d evidently been watching them intently.
No use chasing the boy. But he’d made progress, right? Hopefully getting rid of the beard had helped. Either that or the boy had finally figured out he’d shaved and had tricked him and would never talk to him again.
He gathered the trowels and smiled at Owen as he made his way back to the conservatory. “You just tell me if you want to play marbles sometime, all right? I’ve been working so much I wouldn’t mind doing something fun.”
The boy only looked at him, but his face was more curious than frightened.
Patricia’s face was bright with amusement though as she stared at him with a hand over her mouth. He couldn’t bear to look at Mercy. She didn’t find anything about him attractive, so his shaving certainly wouldn’t have helped in that regard.
Up on the porch, the Lowes’ young butler was trying to push a table out the back door, but he was hung up on the trim.
Aaron jogged up to take hold of the table’s front edge.
“Thanks,” Franklin huffed as he got a better grip on the back, but then he stopped and stared.
“Come on.” Aaron gestured with his head. “It’s heavy.”
Franklin’s face split into a grin right before he erupted into laughter. “Why, you look ten years old!”
Aaron scowled. “It’s just because no sun’s hit the lower part of my face for two years.”
“No, that’s not why you look twenty years younger.”
Twenty? “If I looked twenty years younger, I’d be four,” he growled. Whippersnapper.
Franklin just laughed again. “I figured you were in your thirties.”
He narrowed his eyes at Franklin, who couldn’t be more than five years younger than him. “I’m more your brother’s age than your father’s.”
Franklin grinned. “And here I thought you and I were too far apart in age to be friends.”
Friends? He’d wanted to be friends? Aaron tripped over his feet as Franklin lifted the table and pushed him farther onto the porch. When had he ever had a friend his own age?
Mr. Gray was much older than Aaron, and he really didn’t count as a friend. He’d always been his teacher. He couldn’t even make himself call the man Harrison.
Franklin flipped the table over so they could set it down. “Want to help me with the chairs? Mrs. Lowe wants to have dinner out here.”
“Sure.”
Franklin looked back over his shoulder as they headed in. “So why’d you shave?”
“I had a hunch Owen wasn’t responding to me well because of my beard. Figured it was worth shaving to see if that could help win him over.”
Franklin gave him a funny look. “Win him over?”
“I’m hoping to adopt him.” He followed Franklin into the mansion. “Mr. Lowe has agreed, but I want to make sure the boy’s comfortable with me first.”
Franklin stopped midstride and turned. “Why would you do that? Aren’t you bothered by these children’s background?”
“My background is similar to theirs, I’d bet. I might not have had a mother who worked in the red-light district or lost her to abuse, but I sure had a rough time of it.”
“I’m sorry, but you really can’t know what it’s like.”
“No, but I don’t think his past makes that much of a difference. He still needs a home.”
Franklin started again for the kitchen, shaking his head. “It’s best not to attach yourself to anyone from that background. I mean, I came from the district. I should know.”
Oh? And yet, Franklin seemed to have turned out fine. “It’s not where you’re from that matters—it’s the quality of your character.” Aaron grabbed two kitchen chairs. “I was from a well-off family, but I endured things no child—or adult, for that matter—should. I was quite the troublemaker because of it, but I finally realized I didn’t have to be an awful person just because others were awful to me.”
“But that doesn’t happen often.” Franklin shoved himself backward through the door while holding his chairs. “I mean, good for you for deciding to better yourself, but you can’t tell me you think Jimmy is going to become a model citizen, that once a person leaves the district they won’t go back to what they know, where they feel they belong.”
“Seems you’ve been able to resist.” Aaron looked into the backyard, thankful to see Jimmy jogging again. He must have a really good stash of tobacco he didn’t want found. “Besides, if we don’t believe these children can become decent adults and prod them to do so, then we’re doing them a disservice.”
Franklin slid his chairs under the table but didn’t head back for more. He looked at Aaron for a moment and then ran a hand through his hair. “But don’t you think if you associate with the kind of people who let you down in your childhood, you’ll just be let down again?”
“I can’t imagine God would be happy with me reveling in my own freedom while turning my back on those who need help as badly as I once did.” Though he might never have a chance at becoming anything more than a bad memory for Mercy, he could speak truth into these children’s lives.
16
“What are you doing?” Aaron’s voice echoed through the carriage house.
Mercy froze with one of the horse’s tethers in her hand. She turned toward Aaron but couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
What was she doing? Anything and everything to avoid talking to him. To avoid seeing if he looked at her after their disaster of a kiss with regret or longing—or some other emotion that would make her even more uncomfortable.
And she was definitely not thinking about whether or not it would’ve been nicer if he’d kissed her after he’d shaved his beard.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Caroline wanted to check on a sick family in the district, and I told her I’d go with her.” Though this time, she’d not be going inside.
She’d hoped Mr. Parker would ready the wagon, but he’d taken Lydia and her children to the library.
“You could’ve asked me to get the wagon ready for you.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” Or turn red-faced and stammer in his presence. Oh, why had he kissed her? He’d made her feel more vulnerable than when he used to taunt her until she cried.
She was done being vulnerable with this man!
“Here.” He took the tether from her, his skin brushing against hers, making her jump.
He looked at her as if such a reaction was absurd—and it was.
She stepped back to give him room so they’d not touch again. Why hadn’t she waited for Caroline to hitch the horse?
“Mercy!” Nicholas came striding toward the stables.
Thankfully she now had a good reason to walk far, far away from Aaron. “Yes?” She hu
rried out the carriage house doors but slowed upon seeing Nicholas’s serious expression. Her hand grew clammy at the thought of any and all questions Nicholas might ask her about her brother. She’d decided not to outright tattle on him, but she wasn’t going to lie either. Because if it were her words that got them kicked out of the mansion, her future was as uncertain as the orphans’.
“Caroline told me you were going into the district, and I have a favor to ask.”
Her heartbeat fluttered back to its normal pace.
He stopped beside her, hung his hands on his hips, and blew out a breath. “A while ago, you mentioned I should consider placing Jimmy in an all-male household, and as much as I’ve dug my heels in about these children only going to families, I’ve decided to try it with Jimmy. I’ve talked with a few men, but, well, none were interested. But one recently changed his mind.”
“Jimmy’s getting adopted?”
“Not exactly,” Nicholas said. “Considering our past attempts to adopt him out, I thought a trial by fire might be better than taking it slow and giving him time to chase the prospective guardian away. Besides, Mr. Ragsdale could use his help now.”
“Mr. Ragsdale?” The widower had lost his son just months ago and was still wrestling with his grief. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We talked it over yesterday, and I think it could work. He needs help on his farm, and the effort it will take to mold Jimmy into a decent young man will help keep Ragsdale from dwelling on things. If he agrees to take Jimmy full time, even better.”
She bit the inside of her lip. This was what she’d wanted, right? To place these boys into good families before her brother ruined her chance to see it happen? “All right. When?”
“Right now, if possible. You’re going right past Mr. Ragsdale’s, so I thought you could take him.”
“Right now?” She frowned. “That doesn’t seem to be an adequate amount of time for Jimmy to adjust to the idea.”
Nicholas sighed. “I know. But with the way he’s been acting lately, I figured the less time he had to throw a fit the better. Franklin is helping him pack his trunk. I was going to take him, but it might be better for you to escort him since he knows you better.”
A Chance at Forever Page 13
