by Janet Dean
How could he blame her? He had nothing to offer her and her baby except a past that would surface one day and suck them into a maelstrom of trouble.
“This is fun,” she said, keeping her gaze glued on the float and off him.
The float dipped under the water, Callie yelped with surprise, then whipped up the tip of the rod, cranking with all her might, the line growing tauter with every spin of the reel.
A fish emerged, skimming through the water toward her. “I got one!”
Jake grabbed the net, skidded along the bank and scooped up her catch, a bluegill. “It’s a beauty,” he said, smiling.
As he strode the bank to show her, she laughed again, her face alight with delight. She was having a good time, exactly what he wanted to give her.
After they’d estimated its length, he removed the hook from the bluegill’s mouth, put it on the stringer he’d tied to a sapling and eased it into the water. With his stomach flopping like that bluegill had in the net, Jake fought the truth. He was falling for Callie. And he couldn’t. But he’d enjoy this day. Wrap it in his memory to take out again and again.
As they fished, he and Callie munched cookies, swatting at an occasional mosquito, exchanging fishing stories and talking about their love of nature.
“Imagine how much fun God must’ve had making all this.” She swept her hand. “And Adam, too, when he got to name all the creatures God created.” She laughed. “I can’t even decide what to name one little baby.”
Looking at her face, aglow with enthusiasm for life, for her God, for her baby, Jake wanted what she had.
“Keep seeking God, Jacob. If you do, you’ll find Him.”
She must’ve seen that longing on his face. But she hadn’t seen him reading Scripture every night. Nothing had changed. He switched the subject and they moved on to other topics. The time passed quickly, with each of them pulling in several bluegills. Jake even caught a good-sized bass.
“I’ll fry them, if you’ll filet them,” Callie offered.
“It’s a deal.”
Callie gathered the basket as Jake corralled their catch and fishing gear. “Thanks for bringing me, Jake. I couldn’t have a better friend than you.”
The smile on his face faltered. She didn’t want a romantic relationship. Wasn’t that what he wanted, too? So why did her words hook his heart with a painful sting?
On the walk home, the sounds of approaching night enveloped them. Birds called to one another in the trees. Insects hummed, joining the bullfrog chorus, a cheerless chatter that to Jake spoke of endings, not beginnings.
No matter how much he pretended otherwise, he’d been fooling himself about wanting to give Callie only a fun afternoon. Or that he cared one whit about fishing. He cared about this woman. She charmed him, like no other. Yet he had no hope of reeling her in.
She needed a husband, a father for her child. A jailbird wouldn’t do.
He’d seek information about his birth mother and forget this foolishness. He was meant to walk through life alone.
As he always had.
Callie stood as far back from the stove as she could and still keep an eye on the fish sizzling in the large iron skillet. Another skillet of fried potatoes and onions was set to the side. Once Jacob finished stowing the gear and washed up at the pump, he’d be in. He’d sit at her table and eat with the gusto of a man who loved home cooking. And fill the emptiness in her heart.
Across the way, Elise set the table for three. “You actually had fun?”
Her incredulous tone made Callie chuckle. “I did. Catching fish is fun. The river was peaceful. Jake ate a slew of cookies. The man has a hollow leg.”
“Did you bait your own hook?” Elise wrinkled her nose with displeasure.
“He insisted on doing it for me, though I could’ve.”
“I feel sorry for the worms. Fish, too.” She gave a wry grin. “Guess that makes no sense, since I’m looking forward to supper.”
“Me, too.”
“So what was it like to spend time alone with Jake?”
Fishing might have been the goal. And they’d caught quite a few, but nothing had prepared Callie for her reaction to the man. Perhaps it had been the solitude, the two of them alone surrounded by the beauty of God’s creation and an ever-deepening awareness of each other.
God created man and woman, planting within them a yearning for intimacy, a desire to walk through life two by two. Surely that was the reason, the only reason, she’d had that response to him.
“He’s attentive, thoughtful.”
Elise grinned. “And a hard worker. He’s perfect for you.”
But Callie knew Jacob Smith wasn’t the right man. God knew that, too. Jacob didn’t have faith. He was a mystery. She wouldn’t allow herself to get entangled with a man who kept his past and his future hidden.
She sighed. His future wasn’t hidden. From the moment he’d arrived, he’d spoken of leaving. For her baby’s sake, she would not get wrapped up in this man. She’d keep it impersonal. Avoid being alone with him. Surely with Elise in the house, that would be easy enough to do.
The back door banged shut and Jacob stood in the kitchen, his hair wet from a dousing at the pump. Her treacherous heart leaped at the sight of him. He shot her a smile, his gaze meeting hers with an absorption that suggested he had eyes only for her. Some compulsion lured her closer.
What was wrong with her? Where would this attraction lead?
To yet another loss.
Loss had permeated her life, each one leaving her battered, clinging to God.
She whirled to the stove and checked the fish, crispy on the outside, flaky within. “I’m sorry. I need to lie down. Would you serve, Elise?”
“Don’t you want to eat first?” Elise’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were hungry for fish.”
“Are you sick?” Jacob took a step toward her, his tone laced with concern.
“No, just tired. Too tired to eat.” Unable to meet his gaze for fear he’d see the panic in her eyes, she hurried out of the kitchen.
In her bedroom, she wilted onto the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest, aching to hold Jacob in her arms.
Jacob. A man without faith.
A man without a past.
A man without permanence.
Even with all his shortcomings, Martin had given her that much.
She’d protect her child from a broken heart by holding Jacob at arm’s length. She released the pillow and laid her palms over her unborn child. A flutter of movement, as if her baby leaped within her, wrapped around her heart. All she needed was this precious little one, God’s gift and her future.
Jake knelt on the staircase, tightening the screws in the banister, eliminating the wobble. Steadying the railing with both hands, Callie stood looking up at him with those startling blue eyes. He could’ve managed without her help, but it gave him an opportunity to ask questions that might lead to information about the woman who’d given birth to him.
“Once I’m finished, this railing should be solid enough to support my weight with two mules on my back.”
As he’d intended, she grinned, looking happy.
Unlike the expression she’d worn last night, when she’d raced out of the kitchen with the excuse that she was too tired to eat fresh-caught fish. But she hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes when she said it. No, she’d been unsettled by the intimacy sizzling between them at the river.
Well, she wasn’t alone.
What he hadn’t counted on was his overwhelming reaction to having her near this morning, aware of her scent, her sea-blue eyes and slender, toil-toughened hands. A woman like Callie shouldn’t have to work that hard. She ought to find a reliable man, a God-fearing man, and remarry. Yet the notion of Callie attached to another man tightened his jaw until his teeth hurt.
He sat back on his heels and absorbed the tendrils of her hair curling around her neck, the delicate arch of her brows, her full, kissable lips. What would it be like to have th
at sweet mouth against his? To feel her soft curves pressed against him?
With every ounce of his strength, he concentrated on his objective. “How long have you lived in Peaceful?”
She hesitated, a troubled look filling her eyes. “I moved here when I was seven to live with my aunt after…” she took a deep breath “…after my parents and baby brother drowned.”
That Callie had been orphaned twisted in Jake’s stomach.
She cleared her throat. “Our farm sat in a valley, the school on high ground.” She laid trembling fingers over her lips as if trying to hold back the words. “I wasn’t the only child to lose my family that day.”
“You were a little kid.” He touched her jaw, wanting to take her into his arms, but didn’t. “That had to be terrifying.”
“You understand better than most,” she said softly. “It happened because a disgruntled husband sought to punish his wife’s lover and blew a hole in the dam. The whole thing gave way. He claimed he was innocent but the evidence was overwhelming and he finally confessed.”
The news crashed into Jake with the force of an avalanche. He couldn’t imagine the horror of losing her family, especially that way. A lawbreaker had destroyed Callie’s world and now sat in jail, as he should. If she learned of Jake’s sentence, how could she not question his innocence?
“I’m so sorry.” Knowing the words weren’t enough, not nearly enough, for all Callie had missed.
“I was luckier than you. My mother’s sister took me in and helped me adjust.”
Jake ached to somehow erase all she’d suffered. “Not luckier. You knew what you had. What you lost. I could only guess what it meant to have a family.”
Avoiding her eyes, he rotated the handle of the screwdriver, twisting the screw tighter and tighter into the wood. Something despicable must live inside him that pre vented others from stomaching his presence. “Even when I lived with one for a little while, I was never part of their circle.”
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s better to have had a family and lost it than never to have had a family at all.”
That delicate hand burned through his sleeve. He wanted to cover it with his own, to show her he cared, but even a fine woman like Callie, with all she’d experienced would be suspicious of his stint in jail.
“Losing my parents and Ronnie was…” She shivered. “Terrible. But I have memories, happy memories to remember them by. Aunt Hilda had a few pictures of us, pictures I cherish. Pictures I can pore over, hold, touch. They don’t replace my family, but they keep them alive in my heart.” Her eyes glistened. “I wish you had that.”
Jake wanted that, too. Some sense of where he came from and who his parents were. That lack of connection twisted inside him. A constant ache he’d learned to live with, so much a part of him he barely noticed. If only he could share his search for his mother. But if he found her and she rejected him… He couldn’t bear for Callie to witness his humiliation.
He forced his thoughts to Callie’s aunt. She’d know all the scandals in town, might know the identity of his mother. “The day I arrived, when I asked about your family, you didn’t mention an aunt.”
“Aunt Hilda had a stroke and died.”
The news thudded in Jake’s stomach. “You’ve endured the loss of your family, your aunt and your husband. I’ve never heard you utter one word of complaint or resentment. You’re strong, Callie Mitchell.”
“I’m weak, Jacob. God is strong. I lean on Him.”
Callie didn’t realize what a rare creature she was, an uncommon woman, but Jake knew. And his admiration for her grew. Her baby was fortunate to have such a mother.
A desire to know the woman who’d given him birth gripped him. Perhaps she was a woman of strength with an inner beauty like Callie. He’d judged her, condemned her. But he didn’t know her circumstances.
“Even with everything you’ve been through, you’ve made friends, gotten involved, put down roots. Probably not much happens in town that escapes you.”
“Are you implying that I’m a gossip?”
“I’d never believe that of you. I thought people in small towns generally knew everyone’s business.”
She sighed. “That can be a problem, like with Elise on Sunday. Some folks poke their noses in more than they should.”
Here was an opening. “Elise can’t be the first young woman to find herself in those circumstances. Your aunt probably saw young women in the same fix in her day.”
“If she did, she kept it from me.”
Callie had lived with a woman who’d protected her from the harsher side of life. “Losing your aunt must’ve hurt.”
“Aunt Hilda was a wonderful, giving woman. I miss her. I married Martin soon after she died. Now he’s gone, too,” she said softly.
Suddenly her mouth contorted as if she might cry.
Jake brushed her cheek, then stood helplessly, unable to break away. In Callie, he recognized the signs of bone-deep loneliness. Loneliness he lived with every day. Or he had until he came to Peaceful.
He lifted her chin, bringing her face within inches of his. Almost losing his composure at their closeness, he wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to make her pain vanish. But the widow’s weeds she wore served as a vivid reminder that she mourned her husband.
“What can I do? Should I call Elise?”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice trembled. “Once in a while it hits me anew that all the family I had in the world is gone.”
“You have Martin’s parents.”
She nodded but remained mute. No wonder. Commodore Mitchell could’ve made things easier for Callie. Been the supportive father figure she needed badly. But he badgered her and criticized her. Losing an opportunity Jake would give anything to have. Callie appeared to cope with loneliness by re-creating that family with Elise.
Callie looked away, letting her gaze meander toward the railing. “Martin meant to get around to fixing up the place. But something always interfered.” A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. “The fish were biting or his buddies would invite him hunting.”
Jake couldn’t imagine a go-getter like Callie married to a slacker, even a slacker with good intentions. What had been wrong with the guy? Martin Mitchell had possessed everything of importance. A beautiful wife, a great old house, parents. Why hadn’t he put them first, before his amusement?
“Don’t judge my husband and find him wanting,” Callie said, as if reading his thoughts. “You might see Martin as lazy, but he had many good qualities.” She raised her eyes to his.
Jake met her moist, forlorn gaze, all but tearing a hole in his self-control, his eyes stinging and swallowed hard. “I know he did, Callie. You wouldn’t have loved him otherwise.”
“He liked to have fun, to tease. I never had a dull moment with Martin around.” She smiled. “He appreciated nature. He’d call me to watch a pretty sunset or see a rainbow.” Her voice faltered. “He died so young. I’m glad he got to enjoy those things as much as he did.”
Her forceful tone and the intensity of her gaze dared him to disagree. He craved that loyalty. Loyalty he’d never had. But if Callie discovered his past, she’d never talk about him the way she talked about Martin, with that sweet acceptance, with that tolerance.
Still, what would it be like to have a woman like Callie stick up for him? What would it be like to have a woman like Callie to watch a sunset with? What would it be like to have a woman like Callie to call his?
No point in speculating. He might be a hard worker, his one edge over Martin Mitchell, but Callie could never care about a taciturn jailbird the way she’d cared about her happy-go-lucky husband.
Today had proved that Callie knew nothing about unwed mothers in the town all those years ago. He’d have to find a way to look at the newspapers cluttering her library. Surely somewhere in that pile was the information he sought.
Once he found the woman who’d given birth to him, he’d be on his way, though the prospect of
leaving sank inside him with the weight of an anchor. But what was the point of staying? He had no hope of forging a family with Callie.
Chapter Nine
Callie put the finishing touches on the tulip centerpiece. As she rearranged the height of one flower, her hands trembled. Silly to be this shaken by her first dinner party since Martin died. Some would see entertaining this soon as unseemly, but too many deaths, too many funerals had taught Callie to live in the moment. She believed God’s Word supported that lesson. As much as she could, she wouldn’t let past losses or future uncertainties cast a shadow on her today.
The dinner party gave her a chance to offer Jacob a taste of hospitality, of the pleasure of gathering around a table, sharing a meal and conversation with friends. His edgy demeanor in her kitchen implied that this wouldn’t come easily for him. But once he got acquainted with her friends, he’d relax.
She heard a rap on the door. Jacob stood on the other side, clean-shaven, wearing his church clothes and a wary look in his green eyes. She wanted to assure him that which fork he used didn’t matter one whit, but a man raised in an institution wouldn’t have confidence in social situations.
“Thought I’d fill screw holes then polish the banister. I wouldn’t want your guests to think I’d left a project incomplete.”
“How thoughtful.” Smiling, Callie stepped aside to let him enter.
“I’ll try not to get in your way.”
Just his presence in the house chased every task from her head. “You won’t bother me.” When had she spoken a bigger lie?
As he set to work, Callie returned to the dining room, reliving their conversation yesterday. She’d opened up about her past. He’d cared about her losses, understood her loneliness. What would it be like to lean into those strong arms of his?
The prospect of counting on another man skittered along her spine. Caring brought heartache. And she’d had all the heartache she could handle. She’d focus on her baby and refuse to get involved with Jacob, except to help him repair the house.
Through the archway, she had a view of the foyer. Jacob bent over the banister, his black hair catching the light. His haircut gave him a refined appearance, but she missed the rugged masculinity of his collar-length hair.
