by Janet Dean
His pulse ratcheted. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine. Or sound fine for that matter. Was she upset about his absence? “Is something bothering you?”
She glanced away, as if she didn’t want to confide in him. Disappointment at the remoteness between them sank to his belly. “Are you angry that I didn’t tell you where I’ve been?”
“Why would you think I care?” she said in a tone as frigid as a mountain stream. “You have a right to come and go as you please.”
“That look in your eyes suggests otherwise.”
“If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night. I couldn’t get Grace off my mind.”
“Who’s Grace?”
“If you’d been around, you’d know Grace is an unwed mother and a resident. And she and Elise were refused admittance to the Ladies Club this morning.”
“Why?”
“Why do you suppose?”
“Mrs. Sunderland at work?”
She nodded. “I had every right to bring visitors, but no one spoke up, even Loretta.”
“You care too much. You’re going to get sick if you don’t keep your distance emotionally.”
She harrumphed. “That’s occurred to me. And not merely regarding Grace.”
It didn’t take a genius to understand her meaning. Unable to meet that probing gaze, he looked away.
She sighed. “I believe God brings people into my life for a reason. I just need to understand what purpose He has for me.” She rose and strode to Jake. “As for you, at first I thought God brought you here to repair my house. But now I believe His reason is far bigger, far more important.”
Jake turned on a booted heel. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need help, I’ll be in the parlor plastering the chink in the ceiling. Purpose enough for me.”
“Whatever reason you’re in Peaceful, Jacob, your purpose may not be God’s objective.”
The comment stopped him, made him turn back. How could he respond to that?
With every particle of his being, he wanted her touch. Wanted her with a desperation that left him shaken. But what Callie needed, he couldn’t give, didn’t even possess. “I don’t believe God works in a doubter’s life.”
She gave a gentle smile. “God works in anyone’s life He chooses, even those who haven’t accepted Him.” Then she returned to Bossy, putting her back to him.
Callie’s behavior left him baffled. One minute she appeared upset with him, the next she talked about his purpose as if she cared about his life. What man understood a woman’s thoughts? All he’d wanted to do was give her a helping hand. Not dig into purpose and faith.
He gathered the ladder and tools, trying to put Callie out of his mind the only way he knew how—with hard work and steely determination to find his birth mother.
If she left Peaceful to give birth, she could’ve returned with no one the wiser. He’d talk to Mildred Uland again. See if a woman in town had disappeared for months then come back.
In the parlor, a woman he’d never seen before had holed up on the couch. She looked up from leafing through a magazine and shot him a scowl. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark disposition. This had to be Grace, the newcomer.
“Hello,” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.
She gave him a cursory nod, not exactly friendly, but then he hadn’t been, either.
“Excuse the interruption. I’m here to repair the ceiling.”
“Fine with me.”
“I’m Jake Smith. I’m remodeling the house for Callie.”
She shrugged. Not giving her name.
While ignoring Callie’s latest arrival and her attitude, he cleared out the furniture and rug, set the ladder beneath the water damage and went about the task of laying a thin coat of plaster.
He had no interest in getting to know Grace, but he would like to know why she had gotten involved with a shiftless man who lacked the decency to propose marriage. Who lacked one grain of commitment or responsibility, gave not one thought to the consequences of his actions.
The realization that he’d just described his father landed in Jake’s belly with a thud. Why had he blamed only his birth mother all this time? Those postcards were the reason. How could a mother send an annual birthday greeting, yet make no effort to see her child?
His hand tightened on the handle of the trowel, digging into the wet plaster, marring the repair. With care, he added plaster then smoothed the edges until he could no longer see the gouge. He climbed down the ladder, leaving the repair to dry.
As he turned to go, something about Grace reading a magazine while everyone else worked struck him as wrong. “Callie’s out milking. Elise is gathering eggs. You could be helping with chores instead of sitting here like a princess on her throne.”
“I’m no princess. No mind reader, either. If she wants help, she should ask.”
“Callie probably assumes that you’re not up to working and is excusing you for not carrying your weight. Someone like Callie can’t imagine that some people are takers, not givers.”
Grace’s eyes turned icy. “You’re no doubt taking a wage. You hardly have room to talk.”
“My wages are the same as yours. A roof over my head and three meals a day.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t sit idle.”
She shot him a glare. “Mind your own business. And I’ll mind mine.”
“Callie’s having a baby, too. She shouldn’t be waiting on you hand and foot.”
At the reference to her pregnancy, the woman all but snarled. “Get lost.”
Before she ruined her health, Jake would suggest that Callie set up a schedule to divide the work. Not that she’d appreciate his interference. But in a couple of weeks, Elise would give birth. A baby would make even more work for Callie.
If only he could stay until Callie’s baby was born, and Callie was back on her feet. But the unwed mother from Bloomington could arrive at any time and identify him. Then all havoc would break loose.
Pretending to sip a lukewarm cup of tea, Callie sat on the fringed sofa in her mother-in-law’s heavily draped parlor, surrounded by an abundance of knickknacks of every size and shape—a signed baseball, bronzed baby shoes, a tarnished silver rattle—all reminders of Martin. Martin’s pictures filled the mantle and piano, lined the walls. With the stuffy room closing in on her, Callie couldn’t wait to leave.
Dorothy sat at her side, her gaze traveling the room, the lone worshipper in a shrine to her son.
With a shaky hand, Callie set the teacup on the saucer with a clatter. She’d spent the last half hour choking down cup after cup, looking for an opening in the conversation to discuss the financial needs of the unwed mothers’ home.
Once she broached the subject, Callie felt certain she could count on Dorothy’s support. Unlike Jacob, who’d dared to disapprove of Grace’s behavior. As if he had the right to object to anything. Why couldn’t he see that Grace’s fragile emotional state proved the newcomer needed their understanding and patience?
The sensation of a tiny moving arm or leg rippled across Callie’s stomach. Awed at the miracle of the baby growing inside her, Callie laid a hand over the spot.
“Is the baby moving?” Dorothy leaned closer. “Can I feel it?”
Callie moved Dorothy’s hand to her abdomen and held it there. At another kick, Dorothy closed her eyes, almost as if praying. “It’s your grandma, sweet baby.”
She lifted her gaze to Callie. “Bless you, dear. This child you’re carrying will give us back a piece of our son. It breaks my heart that he’ll never see his child.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, we miss him. His absence aches in our bones, blankets our every moment with sadness.”
Uncertain what she could say that would comfort Dorothy, Callie simply patted her hand. The promise of Heaven and assurance of seeing loved ones again eased but didn’t eliminate the heartache for those who grieved.
Dorothy heaved a sigh laden with pain
and weariness. “I know Martin wasn’t a perfect husband. That’s hard to admit about my only child.” She gave a shaky smile. “He was gregarious, spontaneous, fun-loving and…irresponsible and self-centered.” Dorothy’s gaze clouded. “Commodore and I are at fault for that. We spoiled our son.”
“I’m sure I’ll do the same with my baby,” Callie said, trying to soothe Dorothy’s regrets, yet knowing Martin’s mother spoke the truth.
Fighting for control, Dorothy looked around the gloomy space, more mausoleum than living room. Callie wanted to rip off the heavy curtains covering the windows, open the casements. Fresh air would do Dorothy good, more than anything Callie could say or do.
She wrapped her mother-in-law in her arms. “Martin had a kind heart. He never said a harsh word to anyone.”
“You were patient with him. You gave our son happiness,” Dorothy said, a tremor in her voice.
“His strengths were the reason I loved him.”
“I understand.” Dorothy fiddled with the narrow gold band on her finger. “More than you know.”
How many women could acknowledge such a thing about their only child, especially after his death? Callie’s breath caught. Perhaps a woman who lived with the pain of her own troubled marriage?
Fighting to regain her footing after Dorothy’s emotional admission, Callie wondered if she should broach the subject of money. But with two unwed mothers in the house and their babies on the way, Callie needed funding now.
As she got to the reason for her visit, Dorothy straightened. “I agree with your unwed mothers’ home. In principle. But I can’t support it. I’m worried that you’re being foolhardy and not putting your baby first.” Dorothy plucked at something on her sleeve, lint or a thread perhaps, only visible to her. “I hate to tell you this, dear, but I thought you ought to know…before the letter arrives.”
A python of foreboding wrapped around Callie’s throat and squeezed, shutting off her air. “Letter?”
“The members of the Peaceful Ladies Club met yesterday and voted to revoke your membership.”
“What?”
“Oh, Callie, I’m sorry.” Her eyes flashed. “The women believe your unwed mothers’ home is in conflict with Ladies Club bylaws and God’s commandments.”
Callie wanted to protest but the words lodged in her throat.
“They assert that providing refuge for these fallen girls is, in essence, coddling sinners and sending a message to the youth of this town that contradicts Scripture.”
Callie’s pulse pounded in her temples. These women thought she’d broken God’s commandments. “I can’t believe they’d do this. Aunt Hilda was one of the founders of the Ladies Club.”
“I reminded them of that, but the leadership felt the home would bring nothing good to Peaceful. You’ll get a detailed summary of their objections and action.”
These women were her friends. They’d been there for her when Aunt Hilda died. When Martin died. They’d hugged her. Prayed for her. And she’d done the same for them. She’d served on Ladies Club committees, hosted meetings and social events, taken food into their homes in times of crisis. Last year, she’d cared for the president’s children when Karen came down with influenza.
Now they were tossing her out.
“You know, Callie, you leaped into this without a plan in place. You don’t have the money to finance the home, yet you have two unwed mothers living there. You’re ruffling feathers of the people you need to help you. If you’d paved the way, perhaps they would’ve seen the unwed mothers’ home from your perspective.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t support what you’re doing, especially when the consequences could hurt my grandchild.”
“I’d never do anything that would harm my baby.”
Dorothy’s praise of Callie’s treatment of Martin was mere words. She wanted to defend herself, to demand that the women of the Ladies Club show a Scriptural basis for kicking her out. The injustice of it all churned within her.
Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord.
No, she didn’t want vengeance. She wanted vindication.
Be patient.
She took a deep breath and counted to ten. These women would discover that the town wouldn’t be turned upside down by these girls, as it feared.
Or would it? God had a way of doing that very thing. A flipped view of their world might be what the folks in this town needed.
“I have more bad news.” Dorothy didn’t meet Callie’s eyes.
Every muscle in Callie’s body tensed, sensing that losing her membership in the Ladies Club was only the beginning of the trouble ahead.
“I want you to understand that I don’t believe a word of this gossip. I know you. Know your faith. But all this trouble with these girls is turning this town into something ugly.”
“What are you saying?”
“Gossip has it that you and Jacob Smith are…” Dorothy sighed “…intimate.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Or course it is. Commodore doesn’t believe a word of the gossip about you and Mr. Smith, either. Though, he is suspicious of the man.”
Who wasn’t?
Callie had met with disapproval. She’d endure removal. But slander? Where would this ugliness end?
How much would the unwed mothers’ home cost her?
That evening at supper, Jake pulled out a chair for Elise, then another for Callie, who thanked him but didn’t meet his eyes. Why? Grace had deigned to come to the table, undoubtedly reluctantly if her demeanor meant anything, scooting into her chair before Jake could assist her.
After blessing the food, Callie passed the serving bowls. Elise chatted away about her knitting, her baby, while Grace picked at her food, ignoring attempts to include her in the conversation. Elise shot furtive glances at the newcomer, obviously uncomfortable with Grace’s stony silence.
Jake glanced at Callie. “The food is delicious.”
Callie nodded her thanks, her gaze distant. Something had happened to upset her. Had her visit with Dorothy that afternoon gone badly? Or was she still angry with him for suggesting she divide the work? Hoping to dispel the gloomy atmosphere, Jake said, “How are you feeling, Elise?”
She sighed, resting her forearms on her belly. “Ready to have this baby.”
“Won’t be long now.” Callie gave Elise a sweet smile, a smile Jake would’ve given anything to have directed at him.
“Have you made…uh, plans for your child?” he asked.
“If you’re asking if I’m keeping my baby, the answer is yes. I thought you knew that’s the reason I’m here.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your mind. Raising a child alone is a huge responsibility.”
“My baby won’t end up in an orphanage. After what you told me, I’d never allow that to happen.”
Grace’s head shot up. Her eyes darted to Jake then to Elise. “Easy for you to say.” She snorted. “You two have all the answers. Passing judgment, condemning women. You don’t know anything.” She plopped the glass she held on the kitchen table, sloshing water and glaring at him. “You bellyache about that orphanage, Jake. Why? You had food in your stomach and a roof over your head.”
Had Grace lived on the streets? What had happened to put that sneer on her face?
Callie reached a hand to Grace. “You make a good point. Many children aren’t given up by choice. Parents die.” Jake heard the tremble in Callie’s voice. Knew she still suffered from the loss of her family. “Or they can’t provide.” She sighed. “It’s far easier to name the problem than to solve it.”
Had an inability to provide motivated his parents to give Jake up? Maybe they didn’t have two pennies to rub together. An orphanage would be better than living on the streets.
“I know of at least one couple in this town who’d love to raise a child,” Callie said. “No baby born at Redeeming Love need end up without a family. God will provide.”
“Another pat answer! I’ve lost my appetite.” Grace shoved back
her chair, tipping it over. As it crashed to the floor, Jake jumped to his feet. Grace stomped from the room.
“What’s wrong with her?” Elise burst into tears.
As Callie pulled Elise into her arms, she met Jake’s gaze, her eyes wide with alarm. “Grace is having a rough time adjusting. We’ll need to be patient with her.”
Jake righted the chair then stood by helplessly with no idea what to do or what to say that would restore harmony.
“I’m not hungry,” Elise said, though she hadn’t finished her meal. “I’m going to see my mother while Papa’s at the shop.”
The front door banged closed, the sound echoing in the silence. Grace might be troubled, but she’d brought strife into the house. Not good for anyone. Especially for Callie, who gave and gave, trying to make life better for those in her care. No doubt she’d see Grace’s reaction as some failure on her part, rather than laying the blame at Grace’s feet, where it belonged.
With the force of a tidal wave, awareness slammed into Jake. Grace reminded him of someone. Someone he knew all too well. Someone who’d railed at life. Someone embittered and spewing blame. Himself.
Swallowing hard at the similarities between him and this troubled young woman, his gaze surveyed the kitchen. The stormy scene they’d witnessed was at odds with the beam of sunlight streaming in through the window, lighting the vase of peonies on the table, their scent mixing with the aroma of beans and ham.
This cozy nest Callie had created, along with that warm way of hers, had softened his edges. Perhaps in time, she’d do the same for Grace. But at what cost? Plenty, if the look of dismay on Callie’s face meant anything.
Jake wanted to make amends for Grace’s behavior. To protect Callie from this strife. Protect her from any ugliness.
He reached a hand. “Grace is upsetting you. Having her here isn’t good for you or your baby.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Eyes snapping, Callie slapped her napkin on the table. “You’re leaving. So keep your advice to yourself.”
Chapter Fifteen
