“I’ll admit the idea of staying put and working a farm isn’t something I’m looking forward to. But I’m the last of the Tylers, except for them kids. Taking care of this place and those three young’uns is my responsibility, and it ain’t one I intend to shirk.”
“You aiming to handle the farm and the kids all on your own?”
Jack heard the doubt in his friend’s voice, but refused to admit he shared it. “Don’t see why not. Other men have done it. And Simon’s old enough to help.”
“Sure, it’s been done.” Virgil gave him a hard look. “But it ain’t easy, even if you’ve had some practice. Why, even Lanny figured he needed help raising that little girl of his.”
Virgil raised a hand before Jack could do more than stiffen. “I know you don’t like being compared to Lanny, but I’m just saying it ain’t as easy a job as you seem to think.”
Jack flicked the blade of grass away. “I didn’t say I thought it would be easy. But that’s my worry. And I’m sure I’ll get the widow to come around. So that’ll be one less person for me to look out for.”
He rested his arms on the paddock fence and stared off toward the far tree line.
“So, tell me about the fire.”
Virgil hesitated, then joined Jack at the fence rail. “Nell hurt her ankle two days before,” he said quietly. “Jed naturally insisted she stay in bed and let him run the café on his own. But you know Nell. She wasn’t going to stand that for too long.”
Jack knew Nell, all right. She’d been the sweetest person he ever knew. But when she’d set her mind to something, there’d been no stopping her.
“Anyway,” Virgil continued, “on that Tuesday, she insisted on hobbling downstairs to help Jed cook for their lunch crowd. Lanny showed up after most of the customers had cleared out, and he helped Jed convince Nell that they ought to close up for the afternoon. Mr. Dobson from over at the mercantile stopped in about then to buy one of Nell’s pies. According to him, Lanny told Nell he had some big news to share but he wasn’t going to tell them anything until she was settled upstairs in her rocking chair.”
Big news, huh? Well, that one was easy to figure out. Jack found his gaze wandering back to where Callie sat chatting with Ida Lee. Nell would have liked her, he was sure of it. In some ways, they were a lot alike.
“They sent Mr. Dobson on his way and closed up,” Virgil said. “It was probably thirty minutes later when the fire started.”
Virgil cut Jack an apologetic look. “’Fraid we couldn’t figure out what started the thing. But best we can tell, it started in the café kitchen downstairs.”
Jack clenched his jaw, determined to hear Virgil’s story without interrupting.
“They probably didn’t realize anything was wrong until it was almost too late.” He teased a splinter from the fence rail. “We found Jed and Nell near the foot of the stairs, pinned down by a beam. Jed still had his arm around her.” Virgil swallowed hard. “Lanny was there, too. Looked like he was trying to free them before he was overcome himself.” Virgil straightened. “I just thank God the young’uns were down at the livery when it happened.”
“I can’t see as how God deserves much gratitude for any of what happened.”
Virgil leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Look, Jack, I know you’re upset, and no one could blame you for that. But you need to keep in mind that they’re all in a better place now.” He clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “None of them would want to hear you talking like that.”
Jack pushed away from the fence, ready to change the subject. “Thanks again for keeping this place going for me the last few days. If there’s anything I can do—”
Virgil shook his head, still studying Jack with that sober expression. “Ain’t no need for thanks. Lanny helped me out many a time and I’m glad I could do something to return the favor, though it’s little enough, considering…”
Jack nodded, then forced a smile for Virgil’s sake. “While you’re still feeling so neighborly, come over to the barn and let me know what you think about this yearling.”
Chapter Ten
At supper that evening, the children regaled Mrs. Mayweather with their adventures of the day. Callie was pleased to see they had truly enjoyed themselves. Even Simon seemed more animated.
“And Aunt Callie said I could move back to my house soon,” Annabeth said toward the end of the meal. She looked around the table. “Does that mean all of us?”
Callie ignored the look Jack sent her way as she took a sip from her glass.
Mrs. Mayweather shook her head. “If you were including me, I thank you for the kind invitation, but I shall have to decline. I have my own house and I happen to like it very well here.”
“But you don’t have other houses, do you, Aunt Callie and Uncle Jack?”
Callie set her glass down. “Why, no, but—”
“Good. Then you can come live with us. Like a family.”
“They aren’t really our parents, you know,” Simon said sullenly. Seemed his change of temperament had only been temporary.
“No, we aren’t,” Jack said calmly. “No one can ever replace your mother and father. But I’m your uncle and I’d like to try to take care of you if you’ll let me.”
“As would I,” Callie chimed in.
“But we are going to all live together, aren’t we?” Emma’s voice was a timid counterpoint to Annabeth’s enthusiasm and Simon’s anger.
The girl was obviously looking for some kind of reassurance that her life would regain a sense of normalcy. And she wasn’t the only one. Annabeth looked from Jack to Callie with troubled eyes.
Callie wanted to give all three of them the reassurance they needed. But what Emma was asking for was impossible. How could she explain that it would be highly improper for both her and Jack to live under the same roof?
Callie glanced Jack’s way but found no help there. She took a deep breath. “Your Uncle Jack and I haven’t quite worked everything out—”
Mrs. Mayweather stood, interrupting Callie’s floundering attempt to answer Emma’s question. “It sounds as if you children have had a full day. Why don’t you go on and get ready for bed. The grown-ups will take care of the meal cleanup tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The children excused themselves and scampered out of the room as if afraid she would change her mind.
Callie pushed her chair back, concerned about the impression their discussion had made on the children. “Perhaps I should go with them.”
Mrs. Mayweather stopped her with a look. “They’ll be fine. You’re needed down here.” She turned to Jack. “You may help Callista clear the table while I prepare the wash water in the kitchen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Even Jack didn’t argue when she used that schoolmarm tone.
As they worked at clearing the table, Emma’s last question lay between them like a sleeping bear—something to tiptoe around and avoid poking or prodding at all costs.
As usual, Callie couldn’t stand the silence. Hugging a large serving bowl to her chest she managed to catch Jack’s gaze. “Perhaps I should help Mrs. Mayweather while you finish in here.” He hadn’t so much as completed his nod before she fled to the kitchen.
Mrs. Mayweather raised a brow at her precipitous entrance, but merely asked her to fill the kettle and set it on the stove.
Callie studiously kept her gaze focused on the water flowing into the kettle as Jack, his arms loaded with dishes, made a more sedate entrance a few moments later.
“Place those over there with the others.” Mrs. Mayweather wiped her hands on her apron as she turned to Callie. “Would you mind washing tonight?”
Callie set the kettle on the stove. “Not at all.”
“And Jackson, you may dry.”
As the two took their assigned posts, Mrs. Mayweather crossed her arms and watched them with a prim expression. “I want to know what your intentions are.”
Callie glanced sideways, watching as Jack quirked a brow, a
humorous gleam lighting his eye. “Intentions? Why, Mrs. Mayweather, I had no idea you had such tender feelings for me.”
“Don’t be impertinent, Jackson.”
Was there a hint of a smile lurking in the reprimand?
“I mean,” she said sternly, “what do the two of you have in mind for the children’s future. They’ve been hurt quite enough already. I won’t allow you to trifle with their feelings while you circle around each other like a pair of dogs fighting over a bone.”
Jack’s demeanor closed off immediately. “We still haven’t worked that out yet.”
Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “I take it you both feel you have a claim to Annabeth, and to the family farm.”
“As Leland’s widow—”
“As a Tyler, I have—”
The school teacher gave an inelegant “Harrumph!” Jack and Callie fell silent. “I understand a great deal has happened to you in a short period of time,” Mrs. Mayweather continued, “but you cannot put the children in the middle of this tug-of-war. A few more days like today and those three will be forming attachments and making assumptions. In fact, unless I’m mistaken, they’ve already started.”
Callie knew she was right. It wasn’t fair to the children. But no matter how much she prayed and pondered, the solution eluded her.
“I’ve enjoyed having them spend time with me, but they need a more permanent home, a sense of normalcy and family in their lives again. So let’s start with you, Callista.”
Callie braced herself and turned.
“I know you already feel something for the children,” the schoolteacher began. “I watched you put them to bed last night, sing them lullabies, tuck them in. And I could tell by the way you helped with their prayers that you are a God-fearing woman. That’s an important quality for someone who’s going to take on the care of young children.”
“Thank you.” Callie couldn’t resist a quick glance Jack’s way.
His glower was back and the plate he held was getting an extra vigorous rubbing.
“You talk to them without talking down to them,” Mrs. Mayweather continued. “Children notice and respond to such things. You are a natural mother figure, and those children need a mother figure in their lives.”
A tingle of pride warmed Callie. It was nice to have her actions recognized and appreciated.
Then Mrs. Mayweather straightened and the look on her face erased all trace of the smugness Callie had felt a moment earlier.
“On the other hand, besides having no idea how to run a farm, you have no claim on Simon and Emma. This tragedy has formed a bond among those children, a bond that runs deeper than that of most natural-born siblings. It would be a terrible blow to them if you split them up now.”
She adjusted her shirtwaist. “Then there is the matter of the markings on your face.”
To Callie’s surprise, almost before she herself could react, Jack spun around and focused his glower on Mrs. Mayweather.
Jack couldn’t believe he’d heard right, especially not from Alberta Mayweather. The woman had never been one to judge others by their appearance.
But he’d barely opened his mouth to protest when she held up a hand.
“Come now, Jackson, we must face facts, even unpleasant ones. While I do not feel Callista’s birthmark lessens her suitability, there are more narrow-minded folk who may hold it against her.”
“She’s right.” Callie’s tone was flat and matter-of-fact. “Even the children have some reservations about seeing me without my bonnet.”
“Only because you took them by surprise,” Jack argued. “They’ll get used to it.”
He caught Callie’s startled look and pulled himself up short. She sure didn’t need to be reading anything special in his defense of her. He was simply being fair-minded, that’s all.
“Then we have you, Jackson,” Mrs. Mayweather said as she shifted her focus to him. “I know family is important to you. But more to the point is knowing how important family is to those children, especially right now. You are their uncle, the only tangible connection to their parents they have left, and you have a claim of sorts to all three of them. Also, unlike Callista, you are perfectly capable of running the farm yourself.”
Jack nodded in agreement. About time somebody saw things his way.
“However, while I know your love for these children will grow, I don’t think you are as comfortable in the role of parent as Callista is. Not to mention how awkward it might be for you to try to raise two young girls alone.” She gave him a direct look. “I have always believed it is more difficult for a man to raise daughters than it is for a woman to raise sons.”
That comment hit home, but Jack refused to admit it. “That’s not necessarily true for all men.”
She raised a brow, then moved on. “Even so, I don’t believe you can manage the farm and properly care for the children on your own.”
He didn’t plan to. “I’m sure there’s someone here in town who’d be willing to take on the job of housekeeper.”
Callie stiffened. “Those children need a mother, not a housekeeper.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Putting that and everything else aside,” Mrs. Mayweather said firmly, “we still have the matter of your wanderlust, Jackson. Can you honestly tell me that after a few months back here you won’t feel any inclination to leave again?”
Jack resisted the urge to squirm. To be honest, he didn’t know how he would handle setting down roots, or even if he could.
No point in announcing it to the world, though. “Despite what I may or may not want, I’ll honor my responsibility to Lanny and Nell’s children.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. But if your heart is not in it, if your desire is to be somewhere else, the children will sense it. And what they desperately need right now is to be with someone who will make them feel wanted and cherished.”
Not liking the turn this was taking, Jack took the offensive. “It sounds like you’ve given this quite a bit of thought. Do you have a solution to offer?”
She met his gaze head on. “I do.”
That set Jack back on his heels. It wasn’t the response he’d expected.
“And what might that be?” Jack prompted.
Mrs. Mayweather folded her hands in front of her with a self-satisfied air. “Isn’t it obvious? I believe you should consider making the same decision Leland did, Jack. For the good of the children, of course.”
Chapter Eleven
It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, but when it did, Jack nearly dropped the dish he was drying.
“What?!”
Callie looked just as stunned as Jack felt. “You can’t mean—”
The schoolteacher raised hand to halt their outbursts. “Far be it from me to dictate what you should do.”
Hah! That was exactly what she was trying to do.
“Only the two of you can decide on the best course of action.” She gave them both a stern look. “And by that I mean the best course for the children.”
The woman had obviously lost her senses. Jack tried to take back control of the conversation. “What seems best for the children today is not necessarily the right thing to do in the long run. I think this decision requires an objective, analytical perspective.”
“I agree.”
Before Jack had time to feel any sense of victory, however, she continued. “And if you consider this objectively, I don’t see why either of you should have any serious objections. Marriage to each other seems the ideal solution.”
Jack heard what sounded suspiciously like choking coming from Callie’s direction, a reaction she tried to cover by clearing her throat.
“Callista, unless he has changed significantly since leaving Sweetgum, Jackson is a hardworking, forthright fellow, every bit as fine a man as his brother. Seeing his determination to do his duty by the children should assure you of that.”
Nice of her to give him that small shred of praise. She’d act
ually put him on even footing with Lanny.
“In fact,” Mrs. Mayweather continued, “this proposal is not so different from what you and Leland agreed to.”
“I’m sorry, but I believe it is.” Callie’s voice was respectful but firm.
Not that he didn’t agree with her, but why did she have such a problem with this proposition? Did she think he wouldn’t be as good a husband as Lanny?
“How so?” Mrs. Mayweather asked the question for him. “If I recall correctly the bargain was struck for the purposes of providing Annabeth with a mother. That need still exists, only in triplicate.”
“True.” Callie tugged on her bonnet. “But this situation is different in a number of ways. For one, Leland wanted to marry me. He wasn’t begrudging, much less outright resistant. For another, though we never met, I believe I knew him well and, more importantly, he knew me. We felt we’d get along comfortably together.” She paused and glanced at Jack as if uncertain whether or not to continue.
She had a point there. Getting along “comfortably together” was not something he could see the two of them doing.
“Is there something else?” Mrs. Mayweather prompted.
“Please,” Jack said dryly, “don’t feel the need to spare my feelings.”
She tilted her chin up. “Very well. Since we are being frank, my impression of Leland, based on Julia’s letters and my own recent correspondence with him, was that he was a deep-rooted family man and one who had a close walk with the Lord. Those are two qualities I believe to be very important.”
“And you don’t feel the same is true of Jackson?”
Callie shifted uncomfortably. “He admits he’s in no hurry to set down roots. As for the other, well, I won’t claim to be qualified to judge another’s relationship with God. I just don’t know.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. How self-righteous! Did she think that his faith was weak or false just because he didn’t spend time praying every day the way Lanny apparently did? So what if he didn’t feel the need to bother God every time he needed something?
The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 8
