“What was it?” Mr. Rundsdorf leaned forward.
Chris gave Duncan a murderous look. Duncan shrugged. “Dinna give me that scowl. You’re the one who decided to bellow. The least you could do is answer the gentleman’s question.”
“I don’t feel like it.” Chris rested his fists on his hips.
“Then I will.” Duncan turned to the old man.
“He stuck a birdhouse on my bedpost!” Chris sounded livid. “Seeing it first thing in the morning was enough to ruin my whole day.”
Duncan happened to glance across the street. Carmen stood in her garden. She held her hand clapped over her mouth, and he knew she’d heard every last word booming out of Chris. “I tell you what, Chris. I’ll let you take down the birdhouse on two conditions: Carmen has to approve of it and you hang it over at her house.”
“Done.” Chris stalked off.
Duncan made a sweeping gesture. “Come on inside, Mr. Rundsdorf. I’ve got the brace all ready for you.” A moment later, he threaded a strap through the device he’d created after conferring with Rob on the design. “The sheepskin ought to keep it from rubbin’ you. If you feel a wider pad would help, dinna hesitate to tell me.”
Mr. Rundsdorf wiggled his twisted torso within its new confines. He let out an appreciative sigh. “I can tell already this is going to work.”
No brace in the world would ever begin to correct the man’s deformity. Duncan didn’t pretend otherwise. “Rob said the support might bring you some comfort.”
“Unh-huh.” Rundsdorf buckled the last strap into place. “Stamina, too—not that I expect this contraption to turn me into a schoolboy. But if I can stay up for two or three hours at a time, it’ll be twice what I can do now.”
Duncan picked up the misshapen shirt and held it for Mr. Rundsdorf to slide into.
“I’m twisted as mesquite.”
“I’d never seen mesquite until I came to America. ’Tis a rare beautiful shrub.”
A rueful bark of a laugh left the man.
Duncan went on to defend it. “Mesquite’s got character. I’ve admired many a piece of furniture or bowl made from the wood. If that’s not enough, the wood burns slow, and the flavor its smoke lends to Texas barbecue—” Duncan waggled his brows.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“God made mesquite, just as He made pines and oak. He took pleasure in His creation and said it was good. If He took pleasure in that, how much more must He love a son who strives to live to serve Him?”
Rundsdorf stopped buttoning his shirt and gawked at him. A slow smile spread across his pain-etched face.
“I’m planning on having to fiddle wi’ the brace so we can get a perfect fit. Dinna be shy about telling me what feels odd or where it puts too much pressure.”
“It’s perfect as it is.”
“Aye, and I’ve heard the selfsame thing from plenty of folks when first they tied on a pair of shoes. ’Tisna just the fit when a body is at rest that matters. Pressure and rubbing are bound to happen—and that’s when you discover the difference between bliss and a blister.”
Fastening the last of his buttons, Mr. Rundsdorf cleared his throat. “You didn’t say how much this cost.”
The man needed to keep his pride, so Duncan gave him the answer he’d already made up. He swept his arm to encompass his workshop. “I used nothing but scraps and wee bits and pieces. They cost me next to nothing.”
“But your time—”
“Has some value. I grant you that. But I wanted to help a brother in Christ, so here’s what I’ve decided. More than a few men have said you’ve a talent with wood. In your spare time, using nothing but scraps, why don’t you make something for my shop?”
“What do you need?”
Duncan let out a shout of a laugh. “That all depends on who you’re listenin’ to. Chris thinks I need ambition. Rob says I suffer from the affliction of clutter and wouldna recognize order if it bit me. My sister-in-law is the most dangerous of all. She’s of the opinion that I need a wife.” Duncan chuckled along with his customer. “Me? I’m content just as I am.”
Rundsdorf looked pensive. “It must be nice to feel that kind of peace.”
“The apostle Paul wrote of it—e’en whilst in jail. ’Tisna the circumstances a man finds himself in that matter. God is present with us and loves us. All we have to do is open our hearts to him.”
“Like Sunday’s hymn, ‘Just as I Am.’ ”
“Aye. And I canna help believing that since He takes us just as we are, then the grace He bestows ought to flow through us—not only to others but to ourselves. As for me, I’ve found when my heart’s in tune with Him, He can fix my flaws.” Duncan let out a diffident chuckle. “I’ve faults aplenty, so I keep the Almighty busy. But I’m content to serve God to the best of my ability.”
“I’m thankful you do.” Rundsdorf smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt. His fingers bumped up and down as they passed over portions of the brace. “Maybe that contentment is contagious.”
Later that afternoon, Duncan worked out on the porch. He looked up and bolted to his feet. In a matter of seconds, he’d crossed the street and yanked a bucket from Carmen’s hand. “What are ye doin’, woman?”
She turned three shades of red.
Duncan reconsidered his question. He’d allowed her no privacy. “I meant to ask, ‘Why are you hauling water up these stairs and into your house?’ ”
“My pump broke.”
“And you didna ask for help?”
“I’ll ask Otto after church tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be willing to come look at it next week.”
“Nonsense.” Duncan stomped up the last steps and plowed into her house. “Did the pump just suddenly stop working, did it sprout a leak, or what happened?”
Carmen stayed in the doorway. “The handle’s been getting stiff, and suddenly the works just stopped.”
Duncan nodded and thumped the water onto her stove. He paused a second to appreciate her kitchen. Mercy kept their kitchen neat as a pin. The white cupboards and gingham curtains looked cheerful. In contrast, Carmen’s kitchen was an explosion of color and scents. Chili peppers hung in exotic-looking spills from lengths of twine. Garlic did, too. The hutch held a cheerful display of red, yellow, green, and blue dishes that matched the same hues as the brightly striped cloth running down the center of the table. The place felt as vibrant as its owner.
“Thank you for carrying the water.”
Duncan cast a glance at the red pump. “I’ll take a look and see what’s wrong with your pump.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Duncan leveled a stare at her and slowly crooked a brow. “Why is it you can run all over the county, feeding and helping everyone else, but you shy away from accepting any help in return?”
“It’s not that way.”
“Oh? And how does this differ?”
“To begin with, it’s not proper!”
Duncan made an exasperated sound. “I’m going to grab some of my tools. While I’m gone, gather up your sewing or some such thing. Whilst I’m here repairing the pump, you can sit out on the veranda.” From the way she winced, Duncan gathered he’d spoken with more force than diplomacy. He softened his tone into a teasing lilt. “That way, you can admire your new birdhouse.”
As he worked on the pump, Duncan’s mood darkened. Carmen sat out on the veranda sewing a shirt for some little boy. The next-door neighbor called over and suggested that Carmen might think about taking supper to a certain family since the mother was ailing. Yet another woman appeared and dropped off her baby and a cranky toddler so she could go to the mercantile. She’d no more than retrieved her children before another woman dropped off three.
Duncan cleaned up his mess, washed his hands, and dumped his tools back into a box. It wouldn’t be right to speak to Carmen about it in front of anyone. The next time he caught her alone, he was going to say something. Just because she had a big heart and a willing spirit didn’t mean she ought to w
ork herself into an early grave by doing favors for everyone in Texas. I’m going to tell the lass she’s a blessing to all who know her, but she canna let people take advantage of her.
“I made empanadas.” Carmen stood by Duncan’s shop and extended a basket of the sweets to him.
He wiped his hands on a rag, then leaned over and took one. “One of these days, when Elspeth isna wakenin’ Mercy every other hour, you’ll hae to show Mercy how to make these.” He took a bite and closed his eyes with a hum of appreciation.
“You don’t need to wait until then to have more. Any time you’d like empanadas, just ask me.” Carmen set the basket on a nearby table.
Duncan’s eyes popped open. “I’d ne’er do such a thing!”
Stinging from his tone, Carmen stepped back. Her foot landed poorly, and she struggled to keep her balance. Duncan wrapped his hand about her upper arm, stabilizing her. The way he shook his head made her heart plummet. The one thing she couldn’t bear was for people to pity her.
“What kind of man would I be, making demands of you? You’re a friend and neighbor, not a servant.”
“It’s because we’re friends and neighbors.” She pulled away from his touch. “You fixed my pump and gave me a birdhouse. You fixed my roof last week, too. I’m returning a favor because you said you like empanadas.”
Duncan held the other half of the treat up between them. “Dinna mistake me, Carmen. This is a fine mouthful, but on occasion when I come o’er and help out, ’tis without expectation of getting anything in return.”
“I know.” She wasn’t willing to leave the topic. “Just as when I bring your family something, I’m not hoping to talk you into doing a chore for me.”
“Fair enough.” He finished the other bite. Like a small boy who didn’t want to miss the last little taste, Duncan licked the cinnamon sugar from his lips. He was such a man of contrasts—so mature and wise at one moment, only to be delightfully childlike the next instant. Though huge and strong, he exhibited a gentleness that evoked a sense of trust. He’s such a fine man. Handsome, too. The next wedding will probably be his. Any woman would be delighted to have such a husband.
“I’ve been meanin’ to talk with you about something.”
“Would you mind too much if we discussed it later? I need to be over at the Rayburns’ in an hour or so.”
“ ’Twill only take a moment.” He nodded toward a chair. Once she sat down, he folded his arms across his chest. “A man could get dizzy watching you going to and fro all day.”
No man would ever watch me, so that’s a ridiculous statement.
“You canna continue to allow others to take advantage of your kind heart. There’s not another woman around who’s constantly dashing off to lend a hand. You’re going to be worn to a frazzle.”
“I like helping others.”
“And well they know it. Still, dinna feel that every single time someone mentions a need, you’re the one meant to meet it.”
Carmen couldn’t fathom what he was talking about.
Duncan stepped closer. “They’re taking advantage of you, getting you to mind their bairns, bringing them meals, doing all manner of chores…. If you have a hard time telling them no, then we’ll work on that. But—”
“No one’s making me do anything. I offer them my help, Duncan.”
“Let me be sure I’m hearing you right.” He tilted his head to the side, and his brows formed an ominous black V. “You got yourself into this fix, and you keep on volunteering?”
“Fix?” Carmen tried not to laugh. He looked so serious that it warmed her heart. “Duncan, I’m happy to be busy. There’s nothing wrong with me helping our neighbors and church family.”
“I’m going to disagree wi’ you there.” His voice held reservation. “Dinna be so wrapped up in actions that you fail to do as the Bible instructs—to be still and know that He is God.”
“Of course I know He is God.” Carmen rose. “And I know who my brothers and sisters are, because Christ is our Savior. It all fits together. By serving them, I serve Him.”
The grooves along the sides of his mouth deepened. Shaking his head, Duncan said, “You’ve the cart before the horse. ’Tis by serving God that we serve others. When our hearts are in accord with Him, our cups run over and shower blessings on the lives of others. You canna rain showers of blessings forever on your own strength and merit. Your own cup will go dry.”
His words left her feeling unsettled. Carmen resented that. Instead of wallowing in self-pity because I’m crippled and alone, I’m filling my days by helping others. He just doesn’t understand.
“Think on it,” he urged.
“Only if you hurry and eat another of those. I think you need to sweeten your disposition today.” She forced a laugh and hobbled out of his shop and back to her empty house.
Chapter 5
Things are wrong.” Duncan did his best not to glower at Carmen.
“What’s wrong?” She finished tying a ribbon around the bottom of a little lassie’s plait. “Go ask Nestor to give you a cookie.”
“Miss Carmen, are you telling me to get a cookie?” The lassie shot a jealous look up at Duncan. “Or are you telling him to?”
“I dinna have an appetite for cookies today.” Duncan served Carmen a telling look.
The little lass tugged on Carmen’s sleeve. “Do I getta have his cookie, then?”
“You and Nestor may share it, chica.”
Duncan fought the urge to shoo all of the children back to their homes. His talk with Carmen had made a difference—but the wrong one. If anything, she’d taken on even more responsibilities. The woman looked tired. From clear across the road, he’d noticed how her steps dragged. As a result, he’d closed his shop and come over so she wouldn’t have to mind the rowdy bunch of children who filled her yard all by herself.
Her flower garden wasn’t the wonderland it used to be. Her walkway wasn’t swept, either. Little things—none of them alone said much, but put together, they nearly shouted something was wrong. He’d stay here until every last child left, but then Duncan planned to nudge Carmen into seeing the truth.
“So you mentioned something is wrong?” She gave him an expectant look.
“Aye.” She’d prodded him into the discussion before he’d anticipated, but Duncan decided he might as well get things out in the open. He fisted his hands and rested them on his hips. “Speakin’ as your friend, I’m reminding you that Christ was happier with Mary for sitting at His feet than He was with Martha for dashing about.”
“Miss Rodriguez!” The little girl ran back over with her lower lip poking out and quivering. “Nestor says he already gave away all the cookies.”
“Pobrecita.” Rich with compassion, the word rolled off Carmen’s tongue. She gave the child a hug and murmured, “Next time you come, I’ll make sure you get two.”
“I get two po-citras?”
Shaking her head, Carmen explained, “Pobrecita is a special word in Spanish that means I was feeling sorry for you and I care.”
“Oh.” The child’s eyes brightened with greed. “But I still get two cookies the next time!” She ran off shouting, “Nestor!”
“It actually means ‘poor little girl,’ but it isn’t in regards to money—it’s just a sympathy word.” Carmen absently brushed a smear of something from her skirt.
At times when he’d seen her with Ismelda, Duncan had overheard Carmen speak in Spanish. “Chris is the one who’d have figured that out. I dinna have a talent with words.”
“I disagree. It’s true, Chris learns languages so he can communicate.” Her hands started together and separated outward. “Your gift is in choosing the right words to comfort.” Her hands reversed the action, but she ended by pressing her hands to her bosom.
He’d never thought of it that way. It was a fine compliment, but Duncan refused to be distracted. “My words to you today won’t bring you comfort. I’m aiming to urge you to take stock and make changes.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t want to change.”
Stubborn woman. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh for her benefit. “Busy hands dinna mean a full heart.”
She smoothed her skirts. “ ’Faith without works is dead.’ ”
“Aye, and you’d best be glad you’ve held that faith when you work yourself to death.”
Carmen’s eyes flashed with ire.
He studied her beautiful golden brown skin. The dark circles beneath her big brown eyes alarmed him. Duncan gentled his voice to coax her into reason. “E’en the Lord God Himself took the seventh day to rest.”
“And by keeping these little ones, I’m giving their parents a time of rest.” Carmen lifted a crabby tyke who’d toddled over and now clung to her skirts.
One quick whiff let Duncan know Carmen was going to be doing those parents a bigger favor still.
She laughed. “You’ve turned an interesting shade. With Elspeth—”
“My niece has enough sense to wait until her mother or father is around to do that.”
“Mercy said all of you Gregor men change diapers.”
“We do.” He nodded briskly.
“Then—”
“Elspeth behaves herself for Chris and me.”
The speed with which he made that assertion sent Carmen into giggles. Her laughter floated out to him as she tended the baby inside.
Duncan sat on the steps. Kids were a joy. Why, the three scrambling to sit on his knees and hang around his neck were all full of sunshine and laughter. But their parents were wrong to take advantage of Carmen. Ever since her sister got married, everyone seemed to think the woman didn’t have a thing to do.
“Piggyback!” Nestor pled.
“Sure, and why not?” Duncan was giving the second child a turn about the yard when Carmen came back out with the babe. She sat in a wicker chair and popped a bottle into the toddler’s mouth.
By the time he’d given all the children two rides, their parents came to collect them. As they walked away, Carmen turned to him. “You’ll make a good father someday.”
“I’m looking forward to it. E’en promised Da I’d name my firstborn son after him, but that day’s a long while off. Carmen, I was serious when I said ’tisna right, you doing so much.”
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