Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son

by Debra Clopton

  When he turned again to his aunts, they were staring as if he’d grown a second pair of arms. All but Odelia, who clasped her beringed hands beneath her double chin and, for some reason, smiled at him as if he’d hung the moon.

  * * *

  Carissa and the children stayed the night at Chatam House, not in the building out back where Chester and Hilda lived with Hilda’s sister, Carol, but in the main house, in a three-bedroom, three-bath suite upstairs that was bigger and far finer than her father’s old apartment. The Chatam sisters had suggested it, and Carissa had let herself be talked into it. Partly because she was too tired to argue, but mostly because she didn’t think the children ought to go back to the apartment so soon after their grandfather’s death. It seemed best to get through the next few days first.

  Plucking at the black T-shirt that she’d tucked into the waist of her denim skirt, she sighed and asked, “Do you think this is all right to wear to the funeral home?”

  “I think it’s fine,” Phillip told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  She had twisted it into a bun low on her neck, but no matter what she did, wisps escaped. Someday she would have money for a decent haircut.

  “Maybe I should tie a scarf around my hair.”

  “No.” He curled a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “You look lovely just as you are.”

  Despite the luxury of having had a room and a bed entirely to herself, she was too tired to scold herself for enjoying the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about the kids,” he told her. “I’ll sit right here in the suite with them until they wake. Then I’ll send them down to Hilda for breakfast.”

  “I’ve laid out their clothes.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “They can dress themselves.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Uncle Chester says it won’t take long.” She bit her lip to stop its trembling.

  Phillip leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “Don’t. Worry.”

  But how could she not? Funerals cost money, which she didn’t have. Despite her best efforts, tears suddenly streamed down her face. Phillip said nothing, just gathered her loosely against him until she regained control. It would be so easy to lean on him. He had promised her father, after all, that she wouldn’t be alone after his death, but she knew better than to hold him to that promise. Phillip had been pledging the support of the Chatams, not him personally. She pushed him away, grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the suite as fast as she could.

  Chester, the Chatam sisters and Kent waited for her in the foyer downstairs. What a trio the sisters were, Hypatia all elegance in her silk and pearls, her silver hair expertly styled, Odelia flamboyant in eye-popping prints and oversize jewelry, her shockingly white hair curling with abandon, and Magnolia looking like a bag lady in her moth-eaten shirtwaists, her steel-gray braid hanging over her shoulder. Surprised to find them dressed to go out, their handbags dangling from their elbows, Carissa automatically protested.

  “Ladies, Uncle Chester and I can take care of this.”

  Hypatia shook her elegant silver head. “Your uncle has been an enormous part of our lives for many years. We would never abandon him in his hour of need.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  They did far more than “not abandon” Chester, however. They made suggestions that helped trim costs without sacrificing the dignity of the service, including offering Chatam House to hold the reception at afterward. It shamed Carissa to have to ask the funeral director if he could provide a payment plan, but she had no choice.

  “Oh, no, honey,” Chester said, slipping an arm about her shoulders. “Hilda and I will take care of this.”

  “But, Uncle Chester—”

  “It’s been decided, Carissa. I know he was your father, but he was my brother, and he worried so about you and the children. You have enough to take care of as it is.”

  Carissa closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks before hugging her uncle’s neck. She didn’t miss the small, satisfied smiles that the Chatam sisters traded or the wink that Kent gave Chester. She knew very well where Chester was getting the money to pay for this, but for once she was going to look the other way and be grateful.

  * * *

  The funeral service took place on Monday morning at Chester and Hilda’s small church. Marshall wasn’t a member, but he had often attended worship there. Dallas, Phillip’s youngest sister, stepped in to watch the children at Chatam House. Carissa hoped to the very end that her sister, Lyla, would somehow get wind of the situation and arrive in time for the funeral, but that didn’t happen. Thankfully, their mother didn’t turn up, either. Though Alexandra had divorced their father many years ago, he had never remarried, and Alexandra was shameless enough to make a grand entrance decked out in widow’s weeds and claim the spotlight. Carissa wouldn’t even put it past her to bring along her current husband, a much younger man, to show off.

  After the service, the Chatams hosted a reception at the mansion, catered by a local catering company to spare Hilda the trouble. Dallas brought the children in, clean and dressed. When the children became restless, Dallas took them out again, and they went off without a peep of protest.

  The past few days, Carissa had let herself just drift along, going with the flow, but the moment was coming when she must again take a stand and assert her independence. Otherwise, she would wind up letting the Chatams do everything for her. She couldn’t help wondering where she would find the energy to do what she must. Glancing around the large but crowded dining room, where the food had been laid out, she set aside her plate, rose to her feet and quietly slipped out of the house to the front porch. An old-fashioned bench swing hung from the east end of the porch. She kicked off her navy pumps and sat down in the middle of the swing, tucking her bare feet onto the seat beneath her.

  Hanging baskets of ivy bracketed the swing, and green lawns sloped away to the street beyond. Her father would have enjoyed this place, but she didn’t think he’d ever done more than drive by here. She’d seen a rose arbor on the east lawn and a towering magnolia tree on the west, as well as other trees clustered about the property. Despite the almost suffocating heat, she felt peace curl about her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, setting the swing in motion.

  Goodbye, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.

  She hardly noticed when she slipped into prayer, but eventually, she put her feet on the floor, leaned forward and thanked God sincerely for ending her father’s pain.

  I don’t know why it had to be like this. I don’t understand why these things happen, but he was the best daddy he knew how to be, and I thank You for that. I wish I could have him back, but I’m not selfish enough to deny him Heaven. I know he’s happy and well and at peace, so just help me and everyone who loves him be happy for him and at peace with our new reality.

  She sat up straight, opening her eyes to find Phillip Chatam standing in front of her. He couldn’t have looked any better, dressed in a dark olive-green suit, white shirt and tie, his dark hair gleaming, copper eyes glowing. His shoulders looked broad enough to carry the world, his hands strong enough to hold it at bay. She was tempted to throw herself into his arms and cry like a baby.

  “You okay?”

  She managed to nod.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  She did. But he was a Chatam, and she owed the Chatams. Grasping the chain holding up the swing, she slid over to give him room. He lowered himself onto the wood slats beside her and copied her previous pose, leaning forward with his forearms braced against his thighs.

  “I trust that you already know this, but I’ve been asked to make certain that the message is delivered. My aunts want you and the children to stay on here at Chatam House indefinitely.”

  She was so tempted. She
told herself that they could stay just one more night, but she knew that if they stayed one more night she would find an excuse to stay another and another and... She dared not start down that path. The crisis had passed. The time had come to get on with her life. She’d been here before, and she knew what she had to do. She had to get up and stand on her own two feet. Right now. So that was what she did. She put her bare feet on the gray painted wood of the porch floor and stood, turning to face him.

  “I appreciate everything that the Chatams have done for us, more than I can tell you, but it’s time that my children and I went home.”

  “Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

  “The Chatams have already done more than enough. We’re going back to the apartment.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if—”

  “The sooner the better,” she interrupted firmly.

  Phillip bowed his head and sighed. “I’ll bring the car around. We’ll leave anytime you’re ready.”

  Turning away, she snatched up her shoes and headed for the door, but once she got there, she paused and looked back. He sat just as he had, his brow furrowed, copper eyes watching her. If only he were not living here at Chatam House, she could stay without the fear that she’d do something stupid, like flirt with him or hope he’d fall for her.

  Oh, it wasn’t his fault. Why, he hung around here living off his elderly aunts and still she couldn’t help liking him. Her aunt and uncle tried to make light of it, but even they wondered why he didn’t go out and find a job. Even if Phillip should fall head over heels for her, what good would that do her? She needed a true partner, someone who could at least pull his own weight, but that didn’t seem to matter to her heart. No more than it had with Tom, her charming rascal of a husband who had sailed through life from crisis to crisis without a care. Then she’d been left alone with three kids, a floundering business and a mortgage she couldn’t pay. Well, she’d learned that lesson. The hard way. And Phillip Chatam was never going to offer to help her. She could still hear her old boyfriend explaining why they had to break up.

  “It’s not like any man is actually going to marry you, not with three kids in tow. One, okay. Two, maybe. But three? No way.”

  Shrugging those memories aside, she ran inside to change clothes, pack her bags and get on with this life that God had dealt her.

  Unfortunately, getting away proved more difficult than she had hoped. When she came back downstairs in her jeans, she found the Chatam sisters at the door, shaking hands with departing guests. Good manners dictated that she join them, of course, which left no chance of slipping away without explanations to everyone, including her uncle and aunt, who argued that tonight of all nights she should stay.

  Carissa stuck to her guns, however, and finally got the children, along with their luggage and Grace’s safety seat, loaded into the Chatam’s town car, Phillip behind the wheel. They waved goodbye as the car pulled away from the mansion, Grace blowing kisses and calling out to Dallas, “’Bye, bffn!”

  Carissa exchanged a puzzled look with Phillip over that, but he merely shrugged, obviously having no more clue about what bffn meant than she did.

  Despite the short drive, the closer they got to the apartment, the more subdued the children became. Carissa steeled herself and put on a brave face.

  “It will be good to be home, have our own place again, huh?”

  “Grandpa won’t be there,” Tucker pointed out softly as Phillip parked the car.

  “I know,” Carissa told him consolingly, “but tomorrow we’ll start clearing out things, and you and Nathan can have your own room. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  She looked at Phillip and found his jaw clenched tight. “Okay,” she said brightly, hoping that he wouldn’t point out how much more luxurious Chatam House was than the apartment. “Everyone lend a hand. Pop the trunk, please, Phillip.”

  He exited the car and did as she asked. Carissa tried to make a game of it, herding the children to the back of the sedan and assigning totes. They’d accumulated a surprising amount of stuff in their short time at Chatam House. They trudged along the walk, with Carissa in the lead and Phillip bringing up the rear of their little ragtag caravan.

  When they reached the apartment door, she found a folded note taped over the keyhole. Quickly removing the small slip of paper, Carissa tucked it into a pocket before Phillip could see it, intending to read the note in private. Whatever it said, she would deal with the matter on her own. Perhaps the short letter contained nothing more than words of condolence. She didn’t think so, however, especially when she slid her key into the lock and found that it wouldn’t turn.

  Carissa tried the key again, but the lock refused to budge. Phillip pushed forward.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The key doesn’t work.”

  “You sure it’s the right one?” he asked, taking it from her and trying it himself.

  “Absolutely,” she mumbled, slipping the note from her pocket. While he tried to unlock the door yet again, she read the words on the paper, her heart pounding. “Um, I have to speak to the manager.”

  Phillip’s head snapped around. “What?”

  She made an attempt at a smile. “Would you wait here with the kids? I won’t be long.”

  Pivoting on one heel, she hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner to the on-site manager’s apartment. The thin, sixtysomething woman with long, graying hair and thick eyeglasses wore a series of interchangeable knit pantsuits as a kind of work uniform.

  She smiled at Carissa and said bluntly, “You must have realized by now that we changed the locks.”

  “But why?”

  “You can’t stay, I’m afraid. You’re not on the lease.”

  “Guests are allowed for six weeks at a time,” Carissa pointed out. “We have at least a couple weeks left.”

  “Not once the legal tenant vacates the property. Legally, we could have put your belongings out yesterday, but given the circumstances, we want to be as compassionate as possible.”

  Panicked, Carissa tried to think through her options. “Listen, I can continue to pay the rent, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  The manager shook her head. “This is a subsidized apartment intended for disabled tenants, and I have a lengthy waiting list of approved applicants. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you and your children stay.”

  The breath left Carissa’s lungs in a rush. She couldn’t believe it. The very thing she’d feared most had just come to pass.

  Homeless.

  She and her children were now truly homeless.

  Carissa felt a presence at her back and knew without looking that it was Phillip. She could only wonder how long he had been standing behind her. Biting her lip, she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from lashing out at him. She turned and coolly said, “You were supposed to stay with the children.”

  “Nathan is perfectly capable of watching the other two for a few minutes,” he replied before asking the apartment manager, “Could you let us into the apartment long enough to pack up some personal things tonight? If so, I’ll return tomorrow to take care of everything else.”

  “What are you doing?” Carissa whispered under her breath.

  “Just what has to be done,” he answered, proving that he’d overheard everything.

  “I’ll get the key,” the manager said, disappearing inside her apartment.

  “You can’t just take over,” Carissa declared, trying to keep her voice low when she really wanted to yell at him.

  “I’m not trying to take over. I’m just trying to help,” he told her, his copper eyes so soft with compassion that she had to look away. She felt his big hands hovering near her upper arms, but thankfully, he didn’t touch her. If he had, she would’ve crumb
led into pieces. “We’ll figure this out, okay? One thing is certain, though. You can’t stay here.”

  She gulped, feeling perilously close to hysterics as the truth sank in. She and her children were actually homeless.

  “Dear God,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Help me!”

  Chapter Four

  “It’s all right,” Phillip said, slipping an arm about her. “Everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see. It’s going to be a surprise for the kids, though.”

  The kids. Carissa gasped, looking up. “What are we going to tell them?”

  “We’ll just say that we talked it over and decided that Chatam House is the best place for everyone after all.”

  Carissa frowned. We, he’d said.

  “They’ll want their own things,” Phillip went on, “toys, books... Nathan said something about a pillow the other day.”

  “He’s had it since he was a baby,” Carissa murmured, her mind awhirl with all that had to be done. “It’s hardly even a pillow now, more like a pillowcase with some feathers in it.”

  “Whatever. He wants it, so he should have it with him. Don’t you think?”

  Carissa nodded, hardly aware of what she was doing. The utilities had to be cut off, the mail forwarded, bills paid.... What were they going to do with the furniture? The door opened behind her, and the manager briskly stepped out.

  “Sorry. Phone always rings when you’re busiest.”

  “No problem,” Phillip told her. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to help,” she said, setting off. “Wish I could do more, but it’s out of my hands, you understand.”

  Glumly, Carissa fell in behind her. Phillip kept pace, his hand hovering in the small of Carissa’s back as if he feared she would turn tail and bolt. The kids were plucking leaves out of the shrubbery and pelting one another when they got back to her father’s apartment. The manager unlocked the door but didn’t enter.