by Renee Ryan
“All right, Cookie.” CJ moved back into the room and studied the bent head. “Out with it.”
The other man’s hands paused midfold. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking so hard my ears are ringing.”
“All right, fine.” He looked up, hooked his gaze on a spot just over CJ’s right shoulder. “I didn’t believe the girl when she said she didn’t feel well. I thought she was making it up to get out of bed.”
Concealing his annoyance, CJ gave the other man the benefit of the doubt. They were all trying to find their way, after all, Cookie included. “When I walked out of this house an hour ago,” he said, grasping for his nonexistent patience, “Anna and Sarah were tucked safely in their beds. What happened between then and now?”
“They got up.”
Never let it be said Cookie was a man prone to rambling. “I’m going to need more explanation than that.”
Sighing, the cook rubbed two fingers across his temple. “Sarah came out first, under the guise of being thirsty. Anna was two steps behind her with the same request. When they discovered you weren’t here they wanted to know where you were and when you were coming back. Nothing I said made a difference.”
“They were probably afraid I took off like Ned.”
“That was my guess.” Now that Cookie had begun, the story spilled out in a rush. “I assured them you were coming back, and put them in bed. I stayed in the doorway until they fell asleep. Two minutes later, they came out and wanted to know if you were home yet. I got them tucked in, again, and read a few pages from a book of nursery rhymes, and back to sleep they went. You can guess what happened next.”
“They got out of bed a third time.”
“That was when I pulled out the toy box and gave them dolls to sleep with. But the ones I picked out weren’t good enough, and so round and round we went.”
The frustration on the older man’s face was almost comical, but CJ wasn’t finding any of this amusing. “When did Anna get sick?”
“She started complaining that her head hurt sometime after my third attempt to get them asleep. Then her sister got involved, whereby I gave the little meddler a stern lecture about minding her own business, which she promptly ignored, and then took me to task, and then—” he blew out a tortured breath “—you came home.”
After sorting through the jumbled tale, CJ had a moment of clarity. Fear that he’d abandoned her had been the cause of Anna’s sickness. But just to be sure...
“You think Anna’s stomachache was brought on because she was afraid I’d left like Ned?”
“The longer you were gone the more worked up she got.”
CJ contained the relief that threatened to take him to his knees. He was inclined to remind Cookie he’d brought this on himself, but thought better of it. Having been through similar evenings with the girls, CJ knew what sort of strain his friend was under.
“I don’t know how things got so out of hand.” Collapsing in a chair, the grizzled old man leaned his head in his hands. “I kept telling myself, you can do this, Cookie. You can get two pint-size mites to stay in bed. How hard can it be?” He lifted his head, rubbed the back of his neck. “Near impossible, that’s how hard.”
“Thanks, Cookie.” Feeling generous, even though the old man had brought this on himself, CJ added, “I owe you one.”
“Don’t think I won’t come collecting.”
After showing the other man to the door, CJ took the cup of water into the girls’ bedroom. Anna was tucked under the covers, looking bleary-eyed and exhausted, clinging to Sarah’s favorite blanket.
Sarah sat on her sister’s bed with an open book in her lap. She was only pretending to read, flipping the pages at random while she told the story from memory. It was such a sweet scene that CJ felt a little unsteady on his feet. He struggled to subdue the burst of love shooting through him. Parenting was not for the faint of heart.
His hand began to shake and some of the water in the cup sloshed over the rim. “How are my girls?”
Two sleepy-eyed children looked up at him.
“Better now that you’re home,” Sarah said, with mild accusation in her tone.
“How about you?” he asked Anna, moving to stand beside her. “How’s your tummy feeling?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Let’s see if you can drink some of this.” He brought the cup to her lips.
She took a small sip, swallowed, then went for a longer one before leaning back against her pillow.
After several moments of anxiously waiting to see what would happen next, CJ let out his own sigh of relief. It seemed Anna’s stomach was going to accept the liquid offering.
He tucked Sarah beneath the covers and, deciding they’d been through enough drama for one evening, sat in the rocking chair positioned between their beds. He picked up the book Sarah had left open and began reading.
Halfway through the first page the girls drifted off to sleep. Seconds later, CJ managed to sneak out of the room without them waking. The moment he stepped into the next room he started thinking about the fear the girls must have experienced when they’d learned he wasn’t on the ranch. It had been enough to make Anna physically ill.
Guilt warred with his own exhaustion. Guilt won.
He returned to the rocking chair in the twins’ room. Unable to find a comfortable position, he retrieved a recently folded blanket and spread it out on the floor.
He woke up hours later to find Molly standing over him, looking as though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his sleeping arrangements. “Another difficult night?”
“Nah.” Pushing himself to a sitting position, he rolled his shoulders, winced at the pain that shot down his spine. “Just testing out the floorboards for any structural flaws.”
* * *
Molly had to press her lips tightly together to keep from laughing. Whatever had happened during the evening, CJ seemed to be taking the events in stride. He’d clearly camped out in the girls’ room to keep them from being frightened. It was really quite sweet.
But, oh my, he looked decidedly worse for wear. “Come to any conclusions as a result of your overnight examination?”
“A decided lack of spring.” He shook his head as if clearing out the last traces of sleep. “But otherwise quite sound.”
She made a grand show of inspecting the floorboards. “Doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“You are not wrong.”
He rose to his feet, turned to study the twins.
Molly drew alongside him. The girls slept soundly. Whatever drama the Thorn family had endured, it had worn them out. “I say we let them sleep in this morning.”
“Probably a good idea.”
In silent agreement, they congregated in the kitchen for the rest of their conversation.
In the weak predawn light, CJ looked rumpled and tired, his eyes sleepy and a little dazed. His square jaw was dusted with fine black stubble and a lock of dark hair tumbled over his left eye.
Molly’s heart switched places with her stomach. She wanted to stand there and simply look at him. Had she accepted his marriage proposal, this was the man she would meet every morning upon waking. They would share a kiss to start off the day, a kiss similar to the one he’d given her last night, light and tender and—
Bad place for her mind to travel.
She blinked, then blinked again, trying to bring her mind into focus. With considerable effort, she managed to draw herself a few inches away from him. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Best offer I’ve had all morning.” He punctuated the statement with a dazzling smile.
Oh, my. Molly didn’t know what to do with this softer, gentler, sleep-rumpled CJ. The kiss had changed things.
With a shaky exhalation, she murmured some
sort of response and then busied her hands with the task of making coffee. The process felt entirely too domestic, made even more so when he engaged her in light conversation while she worked.
As they waited for the liquid to brew, she leaned against the counter and asked, “Want to tell me what happened?”
The story of Cookie’s misadventures spilled out. With each new portion of the tale, CJ’s eyes filled with amusement, the same expression Molly assumed was in her own. But then the story took on a new, more serious spin and she gasped.
“Oh, CJ, Anna actually threw up on you?”
“Her aim was quite impressive,” he said with a rueful twist of his lips. “My clothing will probably have to be destroyed.”
Molly tried to picture the scene in her mind. “That had to have been...” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. There were simply no words.
The coffee finished brewing. Molly hurriedly poured him a cup and handed it over. “You definitely earned this.”
For several seconds, he stared into the dark liquid, his brows furrowed. “I thought I was prepared to be a father. But now, when I think about all the stomachaches and tears that lie ahead, I have to wonder. Are the girls worse off with me?”
“You’re doing a fine job.” Molly glanced at the closed bedroom door. “The twins are in excellent hands.”
She watched as he smiled, a small lift of his lips all the more powerful for its subtlety. Just as quickly as it came, the smile disappeared. “I’m not too proud to admit I feel overwhelmed most days. It’s not as if I had parents who taught me how to guide a child into adulthood.”
If only Molly could offer CJ some solace. He worked hard and did most everything right, and yet was not at peace with who he was at the core.
“I know a bit about your father,” she said, treading carefully. “But I know very little of your mother. Will you tell me about her?”
He lowered his gaze. When he remained silent, Molly assumed he wouldn’t answer her question. But then he lifted his head and said, “My mother became ill when I was ten years old. The sickness ate at her mind as much as her body.”
Molly could see the sadness the memory caused him.
“I loved her desperately. We’d shared a special bond. She taught me how to read and to see the value in gaining knowledge from every source at my disposal, conventional or otherwise. She was an amazing, bright, intelligent woman. But then her mind went and she became a different person.”
“I’m sorry.”
He acknowledged the words with a sad tilt of his head. “Though she didn’t die until years later, I lost my mother long before the day we buried her.”
Molly couldn’t imagine it. “That had to have been difficult.”
“Devastating. I lost my father around the same time she became ill.”
“I’m not following.”
“That was when he took to drink. There I was, more boy than man, overwhelmed and lost. I was forced to grow up ahead of my time, not for myself, but for Ned.” CJ shook his head. “Childhood departs quickly with that kind of responsibility.”
“Oh, CJ.” He deserved every ounce of happiness that came his way. “You are such a good man.”
“How can you say that, after I just told you how badly I failed Ned?”
CJ’s logic was off. Molly couldn’t let him go another day thinking he was somehow less because of his tragic childhood.
“My father says it’s not what we say or feel that shows our character. It’s what we do.” Molly moved to CJ, took his face in her hands. “Your actions tell me the kind of man you are.”
He held her gaze. “And what kind is that?”
“The very definition of integrity.”
Chapter Twelve
The morning of the Founder’s Day celebration dawned bright and uncomfortably warm, promising a scorching day ahead. CJ had insisted Molly ride into town with her family. She’d reminded him what happened the last time he’d attempted to feed and dress the twins on his own. He’d held firm, but had agreed to meet her at the cottonwood tree closest to the revival tent.
Since their discussion about his mother there’d been no attempts at another kiss. And no more talk of his childhood challenges. Yet Molly felt a new closeness to CJ that went deeper than before. His life had not been easy, certainly nothing like her happy childhood. She couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him, as well as a desire to give him the family he’d never had.
Looking forward to spending the day with him and the girls, regardless of the heartache that eventually lay ahead for her, Molly rode into town with her family as planned.
She took her usual seat next to Daisy. They’d finished preparing their picnic baskets for the auction earlier this morning and had ensured that neither the contents nor the decorations were too similar. Daisy had tossed in leftovers from the supper table. Molly had been more particular, including CJ’s favorite foods.
All three of her brothers sat in the flatbed. They were looking forward to the various events, especially the baseball game that Pastor Stillwell had promised to organize later that afternoon. He’d first seen the game played in Austin during a church revival and had begun teaching the local children the rules.
Molly wasn’t sure she understood all the nuances of the game, but she enjoyed watching. The crack of the bat was always an exciting sound.
Her father steered their wagon across land the color of pine and crumbling rock, then down Main Street. The town pulsed with the hum of laughter and voices in different octaves coming from all ages and genders. The sun drenched Little Horn in a dazzling burst of heat and light.
“I’m going to win the gunnysack race this year,” Donny declared, his chest puffed out in little-boy confidence.
Roy scoffed at this with a loud snort. “Not if you have to compete against me, you won’t.”
“We’ll see about that,” Donny countered.
“You will lose.” Roy seemed certain. “I plan to show no mercy.”
“Now, boys.” Helen Carson twisted in the seat to give each a look. “It doesn’t matter who wins or loses as long as you have fun playing the games.”
Molly’s brothers stared at their mother, mouths agape, one of them saying, “But winning is fun.”
“Yeah,” her father agreed. “Winning is the best part of any competition.”
And so began a rousing argument about how it felt to be the best of the best, which Donny had never experienced and Roy made sure to remind him of several times.
Sighing heavily, Molly’s mother returned her attention to the front of the wagon and muttered, “I have raised heathens with no small amount of help from my husband.”
Chuckling, John Carson pulled the wagon into an empty spot alongside the others, set the brake, then reached over and patted her hand in sympathy. “No, my dear, you’ve raised boys.”
His wife’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Well, that certainly needed clearing up.”
Still amused, she pressed her forehead against her husband’s and whispered something only he could hear. They exited the wagon laughing.
A gnawing ache twisted in Molly’s stomach. Would she ever know that closeness with a man again?
Her brothers scrambled out of the wagon and rushed over to where their friends were already congregating in small clumps. Molly and Daisy set out to deliver their picnic baskets to Floyd Farmington, the man in charge of the auction. Per his stern instructions, they’d draped blankets over their baskets in order to keep their identities anonymous.
Calvin Barlow fell into step beside Daisy.
“That looks heavy.” He reached for the covered basket in her arms. “Let me carry it for you.”
“Go away, Calvin.” She shoved him back with her shoulder.
He made another attempt. “I really
don’t mind helping.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying a picnic basket all by myself.”
Dodging around her, he attempted to lift the edge of the blanket.
She shifted the basket out of his reach. “No peeking.”
“You’re killing me, Daisy.”
“You’ll survive.”
“How am I supposed know what basket to bid on if you don’t give me a quick look?”
“You...” Daisy’s steps faltered and her cheeks colored. “You truly plan to bid on mine?”
“That’s what I just said.”
Molly and the arguing teenagers arrived at the table where a stack of boxes, straw baskets and miniature hampers already took up most of the space.
“Give me a little peek,” Calvin urged, eyes pleading. “Just one.”
Showing no mercy, Daisy lifted her chin to a haughty angle. “You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.”
“Come on, Daisy,” the boy wheedled. “I thought we were friends.”
“Of course we’re friends. What an odd thing to say.”
“If you were really my friend you would give me a hint.” He fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “Just one harmless, tiny little peek.”
With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Daisy looked over at Molly. Molly set down her basket, then glanced away, giving her sister a moment with her...friend.
The rustle of cotton sliding across straw was followed by Daisy’s soft huff. “There. Satisfied?”
“You better believe it.”
Molly turned back around to find Calvin grinning at Daisy as she set her basket, now uncovered, on the table.
He took Daisy’s hand. “Let’s go find out where they’ll be running the three-legged race. My little brothers have been practicing all week and I don’t mind saying they’re terrible. I predict they’ll cross the finish line last.”
Daisy laughed. “That I’ve got to see.”
The two wandered off, heads bent close, whispering and making plans for the rest of the morning.
