That stubborn look she’d gotten whenever she had her mind-set settled across her features. “It might start tongues to wagging if you go into town with us, don’t you think?”
Bullheaded, obstinate woman. “She’s my daughter, too, Merri.”
“Who doesn’t know that little piece of information.” She stepped closer, the light vanilla scent that clung to her invading his senses. “What kind of excuse would we give for you being there?”
“We could tell her the truth.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Are you still leaving?”
He slapped his hat against his thigh out of frustration and groaned. “It won’t be forever. I am coming back.”
John almost didn’t hear her next words. Her whisper was so low, he almost thought he’d imagined it. But there was no denying the pain in her voice, the slight wistfulness that hung in her tone. “You didn’t come back last time.”
He shook his head. She wasn’t making sense. It almost sounded as if she’d thought he had abandoned her, not the other way around. Why would she say such a thing?
Before he could ask her, Merrilee started back toward the house. “We need to get going.”
He had questions he needed answers to, answers only Merrilee could give. “Wait.”
She pivoted around halfway, facing the barn rather than meeting his gaze. “Our appointment is in a little less than an hour, John. If we don’t leave in the next few minutes, we’re going to be late.”
Appointment? What was Merrilee up to? “Who are you meeting with?”
Her mouth formed a firm line. “That’s my business.”
And not yours! Well, he could be equally as hardheaded when it came to their daughter. “It became my business when you involved Claire.”
White teeth slid against her lower lip, a sure sign she knew she’d lost this battle. “I have an appointment at the bank and thought I’d take Claire with me. Maybe get in some window shopping.”
John nodded. Seemed innocent enough. Then why had Merrilee been so defensive about it? “Is Claire waiting in the truck for you?”
Merrilee shook her head. “I thought she was out here with you.”
Their daughter didn’t seem the type to wander off. “I haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s with Billy.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Merrilee turned and marched across the yard. “Claire!”
He started off toward the house, going in the opposite direction as Merrilee. “Claire!”
John skimmed the tree line against the highway, his thoughts still scattered from his conversation with Merrilee. The more he thought about it, the more confused he felt. She was hiding something, but what? And why did it bother him so much? She had been the one to end their marriage. She had even ditched the court proceedings, sending her father to represent her when all John had wanted was a chance to talk to her, to work things out. Why should he expect her to be open with him now?
“Did you find her?” Merrilee hurried across the backyard toward him.
“No.” A car flew down the road behind them. “She wouldn’t have taken off for the boardinghouse, would she?”
Reddish-blond curls shimmered with golden sparks as she shook her head. “She’s been happier here in the past few days than I’ve seen her in the past year. She’s been kind of lonely.”
“You mean since you took her out of school. She told me.”
Merrilee straightened slightly as if preparing to do battle. “You make it sound like I wanted to.”
Hadn’t she? He’d just assumed, wrongly it appeared. “What happened?”
“She was having trouble getting around, then some of the kids started picking on her. I talked to Ms. Simmons, her teacher, who referred me to Principal Harding, but they both agreed it would be best if Claire was taught at home while she was receiving treatment.”
Anger flared in his gut. A country at war to assure their freedoms, yet instead of protecting their weakest citizens, they were deprived of their simple rights, like going to school.
But right now they had a daughter to find. “Come on.” He pressed his fingers against Merrilee’s elbow, ignoring the flares of warmth that shot up his arm as he steered her away from the house toward the barn.
“I didn’t want to take her out of school, John,” she continued. “I tried everything. I met with the school board. I even offered to come in and help out in her class if they thought it would do any good.” Her shoulders fell slightly as if the starch had gone out of her. “They thought my being there would be detrimental to the other students.”
John blew out a disgusted huff. That line of reasoning sounded familiar. “Still the same old group on the board?”
“Come to think of it, yes.” She glanced up at him. “How did you know that?”
“’Cause that’s the same line they gave Ms. Aurora when she tried to enroll me in school, except I believe in my case, they thought feeblemindedness was contagious.”
“What did Ms. Aurora do? I mean, you obviously went to school. You’re so well-read.”
Another tidbit of information from his past he’d failed to tell her when they were married. But he’d been ashamed and a bit nervous about sharing it with her. What would the daughter of Jacob Daniels want with an uneducated misfit like himself? “She stopped beating her head against that wall and taught me at home.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing with Claire.”
“You never mentioned that.” Maybe because she already had so much on her plate with keeping the boardinghouse up, tending to the farmhouse and Aurora’s children and caring for Claire. But knowing Merrilee, she’d probably thrown herself into teaching their daughter like she did everything else, with her whole heart.
“I figured Claire told you.” She lifted her chin in that determined way John remembered so well. “I couldn’t have Claire fall behind just because the school board doesn’t have the common sense to get themselves out of a paper sack.”
Ah, there was that feistiness he’d always admired in her! “What they need is some new blood, someone with fresh ideas about how to educate all of our children rather than force those who don’t exactly meet everyone’s standards to do without.” He hesitated. “What they need is someone like you.”
“Me? Are you kidding?” Her cheeks bloomed with color. Whether she’d admit it or not, she was honored by his suggestion, which pleased him to no end. “Those men would eat me for lunch.”
“I doubt it. You’re very determined when you put your mind to it.”
When Merrilee didn’t respond, he stole a glance at her. His heart caught in his throat at the excitement lighting her eyes. How he wished he could always draw out the life and laughter in her, that he could be the man Merrilee envisioned, a good man who met her family’s expectations, not some throwaway kid who had just enough book learning to get by.
And a man who’d have to leave soon. To be honest, he had expected to hear from the navy by now. Who knew what would come out at the trial, or how long of a sentence he’d have to serve? Maybe it was better for him, and for Merrilee and Claire, if he stopped hoping for a future where he could be an important part of their lives again. A yawning emptiness filled him, taking with it what little joy the past few minutes had held.
But he could savor the here and now, couldn’t he? Especially when he knew these moments would get him through whatever the navy threw at him.
“What’s that?”
John followed the line of Merrilee’s raised arm toward the end of the barn. He stared for a moment, wondering what exactly he was looking for, and then his eyes caught on a thin white cloud that floated around the corner of the barn before dissipating. A faint sweet scent he remembered from his younger days filled his lungs, and his stomach knotted in response.
“Is the barn on fire?”
<
br /> John picked up his pace, gently pulling Merrilee closer, skirting the side of the barn as they hurried the last few feet. The only time Aurora had caught him out back behind the barn, she’d made sure he’d remember the punishment he’d gotten, and he had. His stomach flipped at the memory even now. But as Aurora had told him then, if you do the crime, you’d better be ready to face the consequences.
Then why did he have this sick feeling, as if punishing Claire would cause him physical pain?
Lord, I’m trusting You with this. Give us patience to deal with Claire and Billy fairly. And if Merrilee needs me, give me the wisdom to help her.
Merrilee pulled up short at the same moment he spied them—Billy and Claire huddled close together, their backs pressed against the barn wall as they sat. He tightened his grasp on her arm as she started forward.
“Wait,” he whispered.
Her lips thinned, but she followed his instructions, her gaze glued to their daughter. Well, he’d need to confirm his suspicions before the two could be confronted with their misdeeds.
They didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later, Claire raised a clumsily rolled cigarette to her lips and inhaled.
* * *
Her daughter, smoking?
“Claire!” Merrilee sucked in a deep breath, the buzzing in her head growing louder, her eyes stinging from smoke and disappointment. She coughed as the smoke smothered her lungs, physical evidence of what her heart didn’t want to believe.
When had Claire slipped out of her control?
She wanted to believe that Claire was still basically a good kid, but she could no longer deny the problems that simmered beneath her daughter’s quiet surface. Where had the Claire who laughed so often and loved with such joy gone? Had the polio damaged not only her leg but her spirit?
Lord, I just want my girl back.
“Where did you find the rabbit tobacco?”
John’s question, his voice filled with just the right amount of authority, cut through her worried thoughts. He stood so calmly, but his blue eyes bored into first one, then the other child.
She should probably take over the interrogation. It was her responsibility to correct Claire, to steer her toward making the right decisions. But John was Claire’s father and he seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it.
“Billy?” John prodded.
The boy glanced up through a tumble of blond hair. “Ms. Aurora keeps it in the barn for when Ellie gets the croup.”
Did Billy really think she’d fall for a cockamamy story like that? Why didn’t he just confess the truth? “You expect me to believe that Ms. Aurora lets a five-year-old smoke?”
John’s voice rumbled close to her ear, his breath warm against her cheek, awakening tiny sparks of awareness. “Probably a remedy she picked up from her grandma. She was part Cherokee.”
She turned and found herself staring up into blue eyes the color of the sky after a violent storm, clear and calm. A safe place to rest from this jangle of emotions. “So it won’t hurt them?”
“Well, smoking too much of it at one time can make you sick as a dog.” He gave her a determined grin. “Which makes for a pretty good punishment when you think about it.”
“You want to let them smoke until they get sick from it?”
He gave their two culprits a stern look. “Can you think of a better way to keep them from smoking again?”
Merrilee grimaced. No, she couldn’t, but she didn’t know if she could stomach watching their daughter put that filthy thing to her lips again and again.
“I can handle this if you want me to.”
Why was he asking permission to discipline the children? They were in this together, weren’t they? United we stand. But this was more than that. This was his first time faced with Claire misbehaving, the first time he’d have to punish her, but he was willing to step up to do what he felt would be the right thing to help Claire in the long run. She nodded. “All right—I trust you. And I can see that it hurts you more than it hurts them.”
He grimaced, and Merrilee found herself undone by the understanding mingled with apprehension in his eyes. No matter his faults, John made an excellent father. If only he wasn’t determined to go away again. Maybe if he’d decided to stay, they could have mended some of the fences between them, become friends again over time. But she’d never know now.
John crouched down in front of the unrepentant pair and picked up something off the ground. Four more cigarettes. “Plan on doing a lot of smoking with these?”
Claire’s chin shot up a notch even though her face had gone very pale. “Maybe not today.”
Merrilee’s mouth dropped open, then slammed shut. What had happened to her baby? “Claire Marie!”
John shot her a warning glance before turning his attention back to the children. “Why wait? Now is as good a time as any.” He handed another cigarette each to both Billy and Claire.
“What?” The boy swallowed hard, his pale freckles darkened into ink dots against his pasty complexion.
“You must have thought you were going to smoke them all today.” John plucked a box of matches off the ground next to Claire and opened it. “You wouldn’t have rolled them if you didn’t.”
She hadn’t even caught that detail, but he was right. Why would they make all those cigarettes if they didn’t plan to smoke them?
“Mama?” Claire threw her a desperate look.
John glanced back at her, waiting for her response. United we stand. “I agree with John. We can’t have you wasting Ms. Aurora’s medicine.”
“What about your appointment?”
“I can reschedule my appointment at the bank,” Merrilee replied.
Claire gasped, as if she’d thought the appointment was another trip to the doctor, but it was the approval in John’s eyes that had Merrilee’s heart beating out of control. This was silly. All she’d done was agree with the man, in keeping with the promise she’d made to stand united with him in front of the children. But she couldn’t help thinking it was more than that—that an understanding had been forged between them. She felt lighter, as if the heavy responsibility of raising Claire alone had shifted to include John.
But they should do this together. Merrilee held out her hand. “Can I see that box of matches?”
He handed her the box without hesitation. He trusts me to follow through, she realized. She slid the lid open and extracted a match, struck it against the side of the box then bent down to light the fresh cigarette in Billy’s mouth.
Fifteen minutes later, both children lay slumped against the side of the barn, Claire’s hand tight against her mouth while Billy wrapped his arms protectively around his waist.
John leaned over toward her. “You think they’ve had enough?”
Merrilee nodded. “I’ve heard of green around the gills, but I’ve never actually seen it.”
“Not even with your brother, James?” he whispered.
That John could tease her right now made her smile. “He probably thought it would cut into his profit margin if he drank his own mash.”
He cleared his throat, but she caught a hint of his smile before he grew solemn.
“I don’t feel so good,” Claire moaned against her hand.
Billy drew in a shaky breath, a light sheen of perspiration breaking out around his mouth. “Me, neither.”
Merrilee stepped forward. “Okay, go on into the house and get washed up,” she instructed. “We’ll be up there in a few minutes to check on you.”
They stood slowly, bouncing into each other, their shoulders pressed against the barn wall until they finally found their balance. Claire kept her hand tightly against her mouth, her eyes watery as she hurried toward the house with Billy close behind her until he slowed, hobbled off to the tree line and heaved.
Poor kids. It really was a harsh way to learn a lesson. “Do you think they’ll ever smoke again?”
“I didn’t. Ms. Aurora caught me out here with a couple cigars once and made me smoke them both.” His crooked smile made her stomach flutter. “I haven’t ever been as sick in my life.”
“I was wondering how you came up with such a devious punishment.”
He shrugged, touching his hand to her lower back and prodding her forward. “I figure if it kept me off smoking this long, it might be worth using again.”
Merrilee relaxed against his fingers. It felt good to be able to share this responsibility with him. Better than good—it felt right. “You handled them very well. Probably better than I would have.”
“I doubt it. You’ve done a great job with Claire. She’s a fine girl.”
She snorted. “You do realize she was one of the two out here taking a smoke?”
The hand at her lower back circled her waist and brought her flush to his side. The memories of how it had always felt to be so neatly tucked up under his arm flooded through her with such force, she couldn’t resist the urge to snuggle closer. She’d always felt safe in John’s arms, so sure of herself and of him. It was one of the reasons she’d married him—the confidence he gave her. He’d believed she could do anything in this world and with him, she’d thought she could.
Strong fingers gently settled beneath her chin and tilted her head back until her eyes met his. “Everybody makes mistakes. It’s how they learn to make the right choices.”
They’d been almost children themselves when they’d married, barely adults when they’d parted. What lessons had she learned? What mistakes had she made? Staring up at John, the answer came to her quickly as if it had been lingering just outside of her thoughts.
And a man shall leave his mother, and a woman leave her home and the two shall be as one.
Pain lanced through her. That was the problem—she’d never left her home, not really. She’d always hung on her father’s every word, hoping for the day when he would love her like he did his sons.
Hearts Rekindled Page 17
