by Renee Ryan
Allowing his own smile free rein, Reese watched the celebration from a few feet away. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and swiveled his head toward the back porch. Callie stood behind the railing, watching Daniel with her heart in her eyes.
Ridiculously pleased that she understood the magnitude of Daniel’s moment of triumph, Reese set out in her direction. Only as he drew close did he notice the little girl peering out from behind Callie’s skirt. Reese recognized the child as Daniel’s twin sister, Gabriella.
For reasons he couldn’t understand, his heart lurched at the sight woman and child made, the very image of mother and daughter. His footsteps faltered. Where had that thought come from?
His pulse quickened, beating harder, faster than before, rushing thick and uneven through his veins.
Now that Callie no longer wore an apron covered in flour and pie dough, he was able to catalog her clothing in detail. Her dress was a drab, dull green, the color not particularly flattering. And yet, she radiated.
He couldn’t seem to catch a decent breath.
Gabriella tugged on her skirt and whispered something Callie had to bend down to hear. She nodded and then scooted the little girl in the direction of the porch steps.
Hesitant at first, Gabriella descended at a snail’s pace. Callie’s face was calm as she watched the child’s progress, but she clutched at the porch rail with a tight grip. The flicker of worry in her eyes told its own tale, as did the tightening of her lips, and the sigh that leaked out of her. A protective mother-hen leery over letting her chick branch out on its own.
“Gabriella.” Bouncing from one foot to the other, Daniel called out to his sister. “Gabriella. Did you see me? Did you see me hit the ball?”
The little girl jumped off the last step, a smile splitting across her face. “You did really good, Daniel.”
He beamed. “You have to try it next time.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Maybe.” Another pause, then she sped over to her brother and joined in the merriment. One of the older girls tugged her close.
Charmed by the scene, and not wanting to miss a second of the festivities, Reese conquered the porch steps two at a time then took Gabriella’s place beside Callie. He did a double take. Something had happened to her eyes, they’d turned greener, larger. Prettier. He could lose himself in their depths if he didn’t take care.
“Hi,” he said, pleased his voice sounded relatively normal.
“Oh, Reese.” Callie reached up and brushed at his shoulder as if removing a speck of dust. The gesture was casually intimate and felt exactly right for the moment. “That was very kind of you, what you did for Daniel, ensuring he made it around all the bases.”
Her words of praise made him feel strong, courageous, keen on conquering the world and slaying dragons with his bare hands.
Shrugging away the fanciful thought, he rolled back on his heels, came back down again. “It’s what any man would have done in my position.”
“No, Reese.” She brushed at his other shoulder. “Not every man has it in him to be kind to children.”
She sounded certain, and a little sad, as if she’d come across her share of bad characters.
Had someone hurt her?
A protective instinct shuddered through him and one thought rose above the others. I want to fight this woman’s battles.
“You are a good man, Reese Bennett Junior.”
Instant pleasure surged at the words that seemed to flow so easily off her lips. “Thank you, Callie.”
Her eyes went soft with emotion. “You’re welcome.”
An odd sensation filled his chest, part confusion, part longing. He moved closer, a mere inch, no more.
The wind kicked up. The world paused, and then...
The swollen rain clouds unleashed their watery assault.
Chaos exploded in the backyard. Squeals and shrieks and giggles filled the air. Running feet. More laughter.
“Everybody inside,” Marc shouted over the commotion.
One by one the children scrambled onto the porch. They crowded around Reese and Callie, laughing and tossing water in every direction. At the bottom of the steps, Marc hoisted Gabriella into his arms and set her down near Callie.
When Daniel stood in the rain, blinking up after his sister, looking forlorn and forgotten, Reese retrieved the boy in the same way Marc had rescued his sister.
Back on the porch, he had to shuffle his way through a maze of flaying arms and kicking legs to find a clear spot to set the boy down safely.
Marc took charge, Reese and Callie helping wherever they could. The three of them made quick work of gathering equipment in one pile, wet, muddy shoes in another, before herding the motley group of laughing, soaking wet children inside the house.
Retreating to her timid ways, Gabriella clung to Daniel, huddling close to him, her eyes wide and full of fear.
Callie approached the twins, crouched down to eye level. She spoke in a gentle voice, so soft Reese couldn’t make out her words. Daniel nodded enthusiastically, pulling on his sister’s arm. A blink of the eye later, the boy had his sister following behind the other children. The little girl didn’t look especially overjoyed, and kept glancing back over her shoulder at Callie. But with her brother’s encouragement, she obeyed.
Progress.
When the back door banged shut behind the twins, Reese realized he and Callie were alone on the porch. Just the two of them.
Fat raindrops pelted the ground. Thick clouds covered the sky. The muted gray light did nothing to conceal Callie’s beauty, or hide the shades of caramel, gold and deep yellow in her hair.
And her eyes, those amazing, grass-green eyes, they stole his breath. She stole his breath.
Callie Mitchell was a beautiful woman. Reese realized with a sudden jolt that her appeal had nothing to do with her clothing, or how she chose to wear her hair, and everything to do with the woman herself. She was kind to frightened children, and he couldn’t stop staring at her.
Nor could he deny the truth any longer. He was attracted to Callie Mitchell, captivated by a woman most considered unremarkable. Fools, all of them.
Reese knew he should feel awkward in her company, certainly alarmed at the direction of his thoughts. Instead, the sensation moving through him soothed his spirit. Calmed his soul. Urged him to let down his guard and relax, as if he’d finally come home after a long, endless journey.
Now, he was uncomfortable.
He took several steps back, away from Callie, and searched his mind for something innocuous to say. “Finished making pies?”
“Oh, yes.” The smile she gave him sent his mind reeling. “All ten of them.”
“Ten?”
“Apple pie is a favorite among the children.”
He felt his smile return. “Kids with exceptional taste, I knew I liked them for a reason.”
She laughed. “Apparently, the joy of apple pie knows no bounds.”
“Or age limit,” he said, laughing with her. He noticed a smudge on her cheek. Compelled, he reached up and brushed his fingertips across the spot.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Flour,” he said, showing her the pads of his fingers.
“Oh.” She let out a sweet, nervous laugh. “My secret is revealed. I’m a messy cook.”
Affection enveloped him. Why had he never noticed just how striking and dramatic her features were? How had he missed the almond shape of her eyes, or how vivid and intense they were beneath finely arched brows?
Something deep and life-altering was gathering inside his heart. Reese wanted to pull Callie into his arms and kiss her.
He clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “Are you heading to Mrs. Singletary’s anytime soon?”
“I am, once I say
goodbye to the children.”
“May I escort you home?”
“Yes, I...” A thousand questions leaped into her eyes. She voiced none of them. “Thank you, Reese, I would like that very much.”
* * *
Thoughts scrambled around one another in Callie’s mind, circling each another like a hawk swooping in for prey. She longed for so much, unable to define exactly what she wanted, yet knowing the man strolling beside her was at the heart of the sensation.
Despite her misgivings over the wisdom of allowing Reese to walk her home, her agreement had made perfect sense at the time. He lived in the same neighborhood as Mrs. Singletary, and would only have to alter his own route home by a mere block.
Callie lifted her gaze to the sky.
The rain had let up, but the air was still damp, the wind still raw. Much like her nerves.
The grind of wagon wheels sounded in the distance, along with the boom of a motor carriage firing into life. A baby wailed. A dog barked. “Do you hear that?”
Reese cut a glance in her direction. “Hear what?”
“The sounds of the neighborhood alive with activity.” She swept her hand in a wide arc. “Listen.”
He slowed his pace and did what she suggested. He listened.
“It’s soothing, isn’t it?” She smiled up at him. “Knowing the world moves on around us no matter what’s happening in our own lives?”
He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Callie Mitchell, you have the heart of a poet.”
“Oh, I...” She thought of her love of the Psalms, especially the ones penned by King David. She enjoyed Shakespeare’s sonnets, too, some of Byron’s work, as well as Emily Dickenson’s. “I suppose I do.”
“You continually surprise me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Exceptionally good.” His eyes filled with quiet affection as he reached out and brought her hand to his lips.
The gesture was so unexpected, so sweet and gentle, her stomach dipped. She sighed, wanting this afternoon with Reese to last forever. Lovely conversation, lovely company, she couldn’t ask for more. Wouldn’t ask for more than this one perfect moment with a man she admired above all others.
Complicated emotions blazed to the surface. Forgotten hopes and dreams beckoned, and Callie forgot to wear her hard-earned, outward control.
Something had to be terribly wrong, because she and Reese were easy with one another. Comfortable.
Connected.
Still holding her hand, he guided her off the main path. Callie looked around, saw that they’d entered a small public park.
He led her toward a large leafy tree with several low-hanging branches. Their feet left indentions in the wet, muddy grass. Reese’s were large and clearly defined, hers smaller, less pronounced, as if she was floating across the ground.
He let go of her hand, reached up and plucked a stem free from its branch. His gaze turned dark and turbulent as he fiddled with a green leaf, and then another.
Something was troubling him. “Reese? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Daniel and Gabriella.” He wound the edge of the stem around his finger. “Although Daniel took a big step today, as did his sister, they’re both uncommonly quiet and withdrawn.”
Callie laid a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes. “They’ve only been at Charity House a few short weeks,” she reminded him. “It’s not unusual for new arrivals to hold themselves apart from the other children for months, sometimes longer.”
“I know.” The lines of worry around his eyes seemed to cut deeper. “But it seems unfair that they lost their mother so young and never even knew their father. I can only imagine what their lives were like before they came to Charity House.”
“At least they’re safe now, living in a loving home where they will be given the advantage of a Christian upbringing, renewed hope and unconditional love.”
“I know. I know. But, Callie, they’re too young to fear the world as they do.” He tossed the branch to the ground with singular force. “The secret wounds they carry, it’s unimaginable.”
The intensity of his words highlighted his concern, a concern she shared. “That’s not to say they won’t one day find healing. Laney and Marc will take good care of them.”
Reese nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t release. If anything, his shoulders bunched tighter. As she stared into his eyes, Callie saw the man beneath the stern exterior—a man of great feeling, with a hatred for injustice and the capacity to love deeply.
“I know what you say is true, Callie. Still, it’s a pity the twins can’t have a family of their own.”
“They do have a family, at Charity House. Untraditional, to be sure, but one full of faith, hope and love.”
He nodded. “It’ll have to be enough.”
His obvious concern for two precious children was endearing, and really sweet. Was it any wonder Callie found this man so attractive?
Sighing, she balled her hand into a fist and stared down at it. She wasn’t supposed to find Reese attractive. She was supposed to find him a wife.
She’d nearly allowed herself to forget her duty, a duty she deeply regretted now. She’d only agreed to Mrs. Singletary’s scheme in order to stall the process, at least until Fanny came home. Inserting herself into the equation was not part of the plan.
And yet, here she stood, hoping for something that could never be. Her assigned job was to ensure Reese stay unattached through the foreseeable future. An idea began to formulate in her mind. As the sister of five brothers, she had a clear understanding of what men found attractive in women. And, more importantly, what they found impossible to bear.
“Reese?”
“Yes, Callie?”
Oh, my. Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my. She really liked the way her name sounded on his lips.
He is not for you.
“It’s time we discuss your bride hunt.”
Chapter Eleven
At Callie’s abrupt change of topic, Reese felt his mouth tighten around the edges. A sardonic laugh rustled in his throat. For the span of three heartbeats he could do nothing but stare at her in muted astonishment.
The woman wanted to discuss his search for a bride? Here? Now? When his mind was back at Charity House, focused on two small children who were...
Far better off than they’d been three weeks ago. Given their new, happier circumstances, he supposed there wasn’t much more to say on the matter.
That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about his bride hunt, as Callie called it. The term didn’t sit well with him, made his search seem calculating, perhaps even callous. His brows pulled together in a frown.
Was his approach cold and self-serving? Or was his approach part of a wise, forward-thinking plan?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but found he couldn’t focus. Not with Callie’s pretty green eyes sweeping over his face. “Now is not a good time for this particular conversation.”
“I daresay there’s no good time for this particular conversation.”
She couldn’t know how much he agreed with her on this. “No. I suppose not.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, a dismal warning that the storm wasn’t over. The wind kicked up again, matching his dark mood and bringing an unseasonable chill to the air.
Callie clutched her arms around her, and attempted to hide a slight shiver behind a roll of her shoulders. Reese caught the movement. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
Honesty, even in the small, seemingly unimportant matters, it was one of the things he liked most about this woman. He wasn’t supposed to like her. She was only a friend.
You are allowed to like your friends, he reminded himself.
Not this much.
When she shivered a
gain, he realized he’d been staring. He quickly shrugged out of his coat and settled it around her shoulders. “Better?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Let’s get you home.”
She opened her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of, but we aren’t finished with our conversation yet. He raised a hand to forestall her. “We will continue our discussion in one of Mrs. Singletary’s parlor rooms, where we’ll be considerably more comfortable than out here in the elements.”
Callie’s lips twitched, as if she had something more to say. Another protest, no doubt. Again, he gave her no chance to voice her thoughts aloud. “I have found,” he said, “that I think far more clearly when I am warm and dry.”
A heavy sigh escaped her. “I do, as well.”
“Then, we’re in agreement. Off to Mrs. Singletary’s we shall go.” He tucked Callie’s gloved hand in the bend at his elbow and guided her in the proper direction.
Her long-legged strides easily kept pace with his. Though he knew many men preferred small petite women, Reese rather liked a woman with some height and substance to her.
He’d have to remember to let Callie know of his preference.
For now, he concentrated on getting her home before the rain let loose.
Upon entering the widow’s house, Winston materialized on the threshold. Reese and Callie had barely entered the foyer when the fastidious butler clucked his tongue in disapproval at the mud they’d tracked in on their shoes.
After a brief smile at Callie—which she returned with a wide one of her own—the man turned his full attention onto Reese. “Mr. Bennett.” Displeasure sounded in his voice. “Mrs. Singletary is not at home. Nor was she expecting you today.”
“I’m not here to see the widow.” He removed his coat from Callie’s shoulders and handed it to the other man. “My business is with Miss Mitchell.”
“Ah.” A disapproving sniff. “I see.”
Reese suspected the man did, indeed, see the situation clearly. Perhaps even clearer than he himself did.
“We’ll be in the blue parlor,” he announced.
Another sniff. “Very good, sir.”
