“Don’t mind if I do.” Aunt Kate sat down with a whomp. “Mr. Johnson—”
“Haydn, please. And Miss Polson, please, call me Haydn also.”
“And you may call me Gladys.” Haydn. Gladys loved the way his name sounded. She noted with amusement that Haydn was eating the breakfast special. Did Mr. Keller only serve toast?
“It’s lovely to see you again. I understand you have business with Mr. Keller. How long do you expect to be in town?” Aunt Kate asked.
Her aunt sounded like a cross between a busybody and a father interrogating a suitor, but Haydn didn’t seem to mind. He pulled his attention away from the newspaper at his elbow. “Do you mind if I take this with me?”
“Of course not.”
He folded the paper and tucked it beside his plate. “I expect to remain in town several weeks. We are discussing our arrangement.”
“Norman always did like a good bargain. He was active in the community when he was younger.” Aunt Kate nodded. “Don’t look so surprised. Something happened with his son that created an estrangement between them. He took it hard, and then when his Minnie died, he took to staying by himself. It was sad. He turned away from the very people God intended to help him through hard times.”
The food lodged in Haydn’s throat at Aunt Kate’s statement. The only grandfather he had ever known was the aloof and forbidding Old Man, someone who seemed to have no interest in his only son and grandchildren. But perhaps the estrangement could be blamed on both sides. Haydn determined to start thinking of him as “Grandfather.”
Coughing, Haydn swallowed some water. He took up another spoonful of stew and blew on it, pretending that the heat of the previous mouthful had caused his spasm.
“How is his health? Is he faring well?” Aunt Kate asked.
The grandfather Haydn knew wouldn’t welcome that question, not even from his grandson.
Gladys said, “I confess I wondered the same thing. You will let us know, won’t you, if he could ever use some help?” She smiled.
“He does have a bad cough. I asked him about sending for the doctor, but he refused.”
Gladys exchanged a look with her aunt. “I’ll fix chicken soup for him,” Aunt Kate said.
Grandfather would throw the soup across the room if he learned that Haydn encouraged the people of Calico to intrude on his privacy. “That may not be such a good idea.”
“I’ll bring it with me when I come over this afternoon. He doesn’t have to know where it came from.” Gladys glowed with goodwill, and Haydn couldn’t say no.
Aunt Kate snapped her fingers. “Even if he objects, maybe you can coax him to eat the soup. That will put some meat on his bones.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Gladys giggled as the door shut behind her. “If I know Aunt Kate, tomorrow she’ll come to your place with two loaves of bread and a fresh crock of butter and claim she made too much.”
“You’re the one who showed up at the house ready to hang baskets. I guess helping others runs in the family.”
“Whether they want it or not.” She paused, sipping on her coffee. “I confess, I baked a pie to bring today. And I added jam for corn bread or biscuits.” A pretty pink infused her cheeks. “I sensed you have a sweet tooth and don’t get much to satisfy it.”
“Bread and water, that’s it.” Haydn winked at her.
Mischief shone from her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No, I admire your reasoning. You were able to deduce my sweet tooth from only a few clues.”
The kitchen doors swung open, and Aunt Kate appeared carrying a box. “Now, you can’t refuse. It’s only a small crock with hot stew in it.”
A snicker escaped from Gladys. Haydn didn’t dare look at her for fear he would break out laughing. “I’ll have a hard time convincing him these are leftovers.” He knew she would ignore his feeble protest.
“Nonsense. Mr. Keller knows I’d feed an entire cavalry if they stopped by. I love feeding a man with a good appetite.”
The bell over the door jangled, and Gladys slid out from the booth. “It’s the mayor. I’d better put my best foot forward.”
Haydn finished his food, but it didn’t taste nearly as good without Gladys’s company. Rather than going to the register, he calculated how much he owed for today’s meal and left three times the amount—for today, yesterday’s free meal, and the basket of food Kate had prepared. He would have left more if he thought he could get away with it. Tucking the box under his arm, he headed out before either Gladys or Kate could catch him.
Haydn stole home as quickly as he could and headed straight for the back door so he could leave the food in the kitchen.
“Haydn? Is that you?”
Haydn spun around at the sound of Grandfather’s raspy voice. “Yes, Grandfather?”
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t finish all my food at the diner. Aunt Kate sent it home with me. Let me dish some out for you.” Haydn’s speech was rushed, but Grandfather didn’t seem to notice.
“Kate, huh? That woman is never happy unless she’s cooking for someone.” Grandfather chuckled, as if he knew the cook well. He sniffed the bowl. “Beef stew. Smells good enough to make me hungry.” He sat down and dug into the bowl, finishing quickly. “I’d like some more.” His eyes brightened at Haydn’s surprise. “I know the woman. I’m sure that crock is full.”
Laughing, Haydn refilled his grandfather’s bowl. “Do you want me to heat it up for you?”
“Nah.” The word scraped the bottom of Grandfather’s throat. He spooned more stew into his mouth. “Her stew is good even when it’s cold.”
Haydn sat down across from his grandfather. Questions spun through his mind, ones he didn’t know how to ask.
Grandfather took longer on the second bowl. Haydn pushed a piece of pie across the table. “Help me eat the pie she sent over yesterday.”
Grandfather lifted the plate and stared at the filling. “This calls for some cream.” His eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he went to the icebox. He brought out a small bottle of cream. “Betcha thought I didn’t know where to find it.”
“You sound like you’ve had her pie before.”
Grandfather set down his fork. “She kept the house going when your grandmother was sick.” The bleak expression on his face told Haydn not to intrude on his memories. Sure enough, he changed the subject. “Keep going to the diner. That place is gossip central. A good place for a newspaperman to pick up on local news.”
Haydn hadn’t accepted his grandfather’s offer to start a newspaper—yet. But it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about the town. Gladys had occupied so much of Haydn’s attention that he hadn’t noticed much happening around him. The next time he returned, he would have to open his eyes and ears.
Grandfather began to cough in midbite, spitting out crumbs of pie in the process. He gestured wildly. Haydn poured him a glass of water, and he gulped it down. “More.” The word came out as a croak. Haydn emptied the pitcher before the coughs subsided.
Grandfather pushed away the plate, the slice of pie half-eaten. “That teaches me to accept handouts.”
“You can’t blame your cold on the stew.” Haydn bit his tongue to keep from saying any more. If Grandfather got worse, he would send for a doctor. For now, he heated water. Tea with honey and lemon should help.
Grandfather scowled. “Maybe not. But it didn’t make it any better either.”
Chapter 5
Confidence bolstered Gladys as she prepared for her second visit to the Keller mansion. Knowing that Mr. Keller was probably resting and that she had an ally in Haydn made the afternoon’s task seem less like a siege and more like a social call.
“I’ve used all the baskets. I need to get some more with my next pay.” The only basket left in the pantry was the one Ma used for summer picnics.
Ma waved away her concern. “Go ahead and use the picnic basket, I can get another one before summer. Now get the sachets out of here before our l
unch smells like cedar.”
Laughing, Gladys carried the first two baskets to the wagon. As she packed them in, Haydn came up behind her. “I thought you might need help carrying your pretty baskets, but I see you have it all organized.”
“You can help me bring things out from the kitchen.” She walked with a light step as Haydn held the door open for her.
Ma greeted Haydn with a bright smile. “You must be Mr. Johnson.”
“And you must be Gladys’s sister.”
Ma colored prettily at that bit of flattery. “That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Johnson, even if it is a bit of foolishness. Gladys is our eldest.”
Gladys handed Haydn the heavier baskets with glass jars and then lifted more greenery baskets.
“You’ll have to come for dinner one night while you’re in town. You and Mr. Keller must take a break from your business discussions from time to time. Can you make it Saturday evening? Or perhaps Sunday after church?”
Ma was clever to give Haydn a couple of choices and make it harder for him to say no.
But then Gladys had another thought, and her face grew warm. With such an impromptu invitation, Haydn might feel like they viewed him as a potential suitor.
But Haydn took the offer in stride. “Provided it’s acceptable to Mr. Keller, I’ll come over after church.” Tipping his hat, he took the baskets outside, and Gladys followed him.
Haydn placed his baskets in the wagon then helped Gladys with hers. After they finished loading the wagon, and as she lifted her leg to get up, he slipped his arms around her and whisked her onto the passenger’s seat. Never before had her spine tingled at the courteous gesture in all the times Pa had done the exact same thing.
By the time the momentary surprise had passed, Hayden had swung onto the driver’s seat. “Are you ready?”
At her nod, he snapped the reins over the horse’s head.
During the short ride to the mansion, Gladys glanced at Haydn’s profile out of the corner of her eye. Brown hair streaked with lighter colors, strong, handsome, clean cut—a man who would look right at home in a city. She couldn’t imagine him settling down in a small town the size of Calico.
Where had that thought come from? Haydn had no intention of staying in Calico. As soon as he finished his business with Mr. Keller, he would leave. She mustn’t expect any romance from that corner.
Her spirits sank at that thought, but there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy an afternoon in his company. He rushed, however. When she dawdled with every basket, he sped up, and they finished the project faster than Gladys thought possible.
Haydn dusted his hands on his Levi’s, flecks of snow melting on the denim. “After all that work, we’ve earned a warm beverage, don’t you agree?” He opened the door and swept her inside before she could say no.
He settled her in the front parlor before heading to the kitchen. When she rose out of the chair to follow, he shook a finger at her. “You are not to help me. This kitchen is a man’s domain.” He smiled his devastating smile and disappeared.
Gladys took advantage of the reprieve to explore. Tinkling noises confirmed Haydn’s presence in the kitchen, and she scooted out of her chair. The personality of the parlor should reveal something about its owner. She almost hoped Mr. Keller would wake up so they could visit some more. Their verbal sparring had given her pleasure, and she suspected Mr. Keller enjoyed it as well. Besides, he was the man God had called her to reach with His love, not his more-than-amiable guest.
The room was considerably warmer than it had been on her last visit, thanks to the cheery fire in the grate. Mr. Keller’s wife had probably provided the homey touches. Two samplers took pride of place on one wall. In addition to a wedding design, a birth sampler included a verse about the blessing of a quiver full of children. Maybe they had hoped for a large family. As far as Gladys knew, the Kellers only had the one child. And he had moved away before his mother had died. No wonder Mr. Keller seemed so sad, angry even.
More surprising than the samplers was the collection of whittled creatures on the mantel. Birds and rabbits, a train car or two. She ran her hands over the smooth wood, thinking how much her little brother would enjoy them.
“I used to play with those when I was little.” Haydn had returned with a tea tray.
Gladys swiveled, embarrassed at being caught snooping. “You were here as a child?” She wondered about the exact nature of the business between the two families. The question was hovering on the tip of her tongue when one of the rabbits fell on the floor with a clattering sound. Swooping down to pick it up, she discovered a tiny piece of his ear was broken off.
“So it’s you back here, bothering my peace and quiet.”
Mr. Keller stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other on a sturdy walnut walking cane. In his brown-eyed glare, humor gleamed. But Gladys couldn’t return his banter. She felt like a naughty child, holding the mutilated rabbit behind her back.
“Caught!” Smiling, Haydn reached for the creature she was holding. “Are you worried about that little broken place? I did that when I was a boy.”
“That he did,” Mr. Keller grumbled. “He threw those things every which way and that. I made a bunch more of them, but those are the sturdy ones that survived a boy’s hard play.” He crossed the room, his cane tapping the floor. He took the rabbit from Haydn and examined it before setting it back in its place on the shelf. “Silly thing for me to spend my time on.”
After that brief glimpse into a happier time, Mr. Keller sat down. As he pulled a blanket over his lap, a cough seized him, knocking the cover to the floor. Gladys and Haydn sprang forward at the same time, their hands brushing. Haydn draped the blanket over the older man’s shoulders while Gladys poured a cup of tea and added enough cream to cool it. She held it to Mr. Keller’s lips. “Drink this. It should help.”
He slowly drained the cup, and the coughing subsided. She glanced at Haydn, worry written on her features.
“Mr. Keller, you really need to see a doctor.”
Haydn read the signs of the coming explosion even as his grandfather coughed into his handkerchief. “Nonsense. Just because my—Mr. Johnson—has brought you into my house, doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”
“She’s right, you know.” Later, when the Old Man had settled down, Haydn would slip out and ask a doctor’s advice. For now, all he could do was sit and watch. And pray.
Gladys fixed a second cup of tea. “Did you add any honey? It always helps me when my throat hurts.” When Haydn shook his head, Gladys held the cup for Mr. Keller to drink.
The Old Man brushed it away. “I’m not so helpless that I can’t feed myself. Why don’t you leave a man alone to enjoy his privacy?”
“You know better than to treat a lady that way,” Haydn said. Every unkind word Grandfather spoke diminished his chances of seeing Gladys again. Even if Haydn met someone he might marry and he chose to remain in Calico, who would want to stay around a man who could change his mood at the drop of a hat?
Grandfather rose out of his chair, shaking his cane at Gladys. “And don’t bother coming back.”
With a final desperate look at Haydn, Gladys stumbled toward the door.
Haydn dashed across the floor in two giant steps and held her cloak for her. Leaning close enough to whisper, he said, “I would still like to join you for Sunday dinner. If that is acceptable after today. I’ll bring the dishes Aunt Kate sent over. You might not believe it, but he ate every bite of the stew.”
She nodded. “Get him to see a doctor if you can, will you?”
He opened the door for her. “I’ll let you know on Sunday. I’m so sorry things turned out this way today.” He helped her into the wagon and watched her drive away, disappearing down the street. Her departure leached some of the color from the brightly colored baskets hanging on the porch.
“Shut the door, boy, before you let all the heat out.”
All the warmth had fled the room with Gra
ndfather’s outburst, but Haydn did as requested. He crossed the room and climbed the stairs.
When Grandfather coughed this time, it sounded forced, a plea for sympathy. Haydn made himself turn around and return to the living room. Grandfather picked up his teacup. “Get me some honey, will you? You’ll find it behind the jams on the shelf underneath the counter at the back of the pantry.”
Haydn smelled the chicken soup he had left steaming on the stove. Bless Aunt Kate. This was perfect for Grandfather. Deciding to risk his anger, Haydn dished out a deep bowl and brought it out on a tray along with the honey.
“Here’s the honey. And something extra you don’t deserve, not after the way you treated Gladys today.” He opened the jar of honey and poured a bit into Grandfather’s tea.
“Tea with milk tastes like child’s pabulum.” In spite of his complaint, Grandfather drank it. “I suppose Kate sent over the soup. She seems to think she can cure every ill in the world with some chicken soup.”
“A lot of women agree with her. Including my mother.” Haydn itched to get away, to go upstairs, but he made himself wait. This was a time to prove Paul’s statement that “love is patient, love is kind” and to continue helping when everything in him wanted to run.
The heated red of Grandfather’s cheeks subsided, and he didn’t cough again while he downed the bowl of soup. Neither one of them spoke until he finished.
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Haydn spoke his mind. “I’m ashamed of you, for the way you treated Gladys. All she’s done is offer friendship, and you attacked her.”
Grandfather threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the spirit.”
Haydn stared.
“I was waiting for you to show some backbone, something to light your fire about that young thing. I guess I did it, didn’t I?”
It was Haydn’s turn to frown. “You frightened her so bad, she may never return.”
“No worry about that.” Grandfather chased a final chunk of chicken around his bowl. “She’s too much like Kate to give up easy.” He placed the bowl back on the tray. “When are you seeing her again?”
Love Is Patient Romance Collection Page 23
