Blowing on Dandelions: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series)

by Miralee Ferrell

  “I’ve been sitting in that confounded coach for the past six hours, and every bone in my body is bruised. I’d like to go to my room.”

  “Of course.” Katherine motioned toward the valise. “Surely you brought another bag? You can’t have packed all you need for your visit in that.”

  Mama snorted. “Visit? Didn’t you get my letter?”

  Katherine’s heart skipped a beat, then raced forward like a runaway team. “Only the one letting me know what day you’d arrive.”

  “I sent another a couple of days later. I sold your sister’s house.” She waved her hand in the air. “You have a large home, and I’m sure you could use help with Lucy and Amanda. The rest of my trunks and bags are down at the station, waiting to be picked up as soon as you can hire a wagon. Now take me to my room so I can be rested when the girls arrive.”

  Katherine set her hand against the doorframe to steady herself against what she feared was to come.

  “I’m moving in with you permanently, Katherine. Your mama is here to stay.”

  Frances Connors waited until her daughter left the room before sinking onto the edge of the bed. She slipped off one shoe, then the other, rubbing her aching feet. It had been all she could do not to reveal the pain in front of Katherine. Recurring gout—that’s what the doctor called it. Whatever it was, the throbbing had become nearly intolerable. But she wasn’t one to complain and didn’t care to burden Katherine with her problems. Based on the occasional letters she’d received since her son-in-law’s death nearly three years ago, Frances had been able to glean that the girl had more than her own share of problems.

  Frances carefully removed her hatpins and laid her headpiece on the nearby nightstand. A short nap might relieve the ache. Somehow she’d never envisioned growing older. In her thoughts she still swept through life as the beautiful seventeen-year-old she’d been when she’d married Ben, the love of her life. Of course, fifty-seven wasn’t ancient, but the gray in her hair far eclipsed the blond, and her wrinkles were decidedly pronounced. Aches had sprung up in muscles and joints, and nothing seemed as easy as in her younger days.

  Frances struggled daily with the consuming grief brought on by her daughter June’s passing. They had shared a special bond.

  And then there was Katherine. Frances sank against the feather pillow on the bed. Sharp edges, prickles, and Katherine’s high expectations marked the relationship with her only surviving child. When young, the girl had been timid, so Frances had done her best to toughen her against the realities of life. Katherine needed to be more decisive and not allow so much to slip through her hands. Not meeting Frances at the stage was a prime example. Her daughter had obviously gotten distracted and allowed trifling concerns to get in the way.

  Frances scowled. Weak women wouldn’t survive in this hard country. She’d discovered that when Ben died. Marrying Katherine’s father saved her and June from a life of destitution and misery, but he’d had his own issues. Yes, he treated the girls well, but some of his habits—well, no need to dwell on that with him long in the grave.

  Rolling onto her side, she stuffed the memories where they belonged—far in the past, not in the present or future. She’d do everything she could to ensure Katherine survived on her own. Her daughter wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made, remarrying out of desperate need. Not if Frances had anything to say about it.

  Katherine wandered through the house, her emotions flittering about like a hummingbird—hovering first on one problem, then another, and never quite landing on a solution. She’d almost forgotten how much turmoil Mama could create by her very presence. How would Katherine keep peace in her household and teach her daughters to respect their grandmother when practically every word out of her mother’s mouth cut or demeaned?

  Then there was the issue of money. The boardinghouse needed to bring in more business to pay its way, especially with another mouth to feed. A mouth that planned to stay.

  Forever.

  “I sold your sister’s house…. I’m moving in with you permanently.”

  Katherine’s stomach muscles tightened, and she feared she’d be ill.

  She shuddered, hating that she couldn’t welcome her mother’s arrival and rejoice at Mama deciding to make her home with them in her final years. All Katherine could think about was the recurring pain that sliced through her every time Mama rejected her. Not that Mama would ever say she didn’t want her—no, she viewed herself as too good a parent for that—but Katherine knew. Deep in her heart she’d always known that June was enough for Mama. Katherine had never been needed, never been wanted.

  She grabbed a broom and commenced sweeping the kitchen, although she’d already given it a thorough cleaning that morning. Somehow she had to burn off her disquiet before Lucy and Amanda came home. The girls were her life … all she had left of Daniel and the love they’d shared. She couldn’t allow Mama’s negative influence to touch them. They deserved peace and happiness, and she’d make sure they got it, even if it meant standing up to her mother.

  Could she really stand up to Mama? For the girls’ sake, she could, but the idea shook her to the core. Her stomach knotted further, and she dashed outside for some fresh air. She stood on the stoop as a wagon rumbled toward her, raising a cloud of dust in its wake.

  The wagon slowed, and Katherine shielded her eyes against the sun. A tremor ran through her body as her gaze met the driver’s. Micah Jacobs. Funny, she remembered his name so easily.

  “Howdy, ma’am.” He lifted a hand, smiled, but didn’t stop the team.

  She returned a brief nod. The man’s quiet, rugged strength wrapped a mantle of peace around her spirit. Katherine allowed her lips to form a smile. “A good day to you, Mr. Jacobs.”

  At that moment she determined that, somehow, in spite of Mama, she’d find a way to make this a good day, come what may.

  Chapter Five

  A shadow fell across Micah’s face, breaking his concentration. His chin jerked up, and he glanced toward the person standing in the doorway of his livery, silhouetted against the harsh glare of the early afternoon sun. Setting aside the buggy strap he’d been repairing for the grocer, he raised his hand. “Can I help you?”

  A man who appeared to be nearing thirty and who was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt held his hat in one hand and extended his other. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Pastor Seth Russell from Baker City Community Church, a couple of blocks from here.”

  Micah was surprised at the strength of the man’s grip. “Micah Jacobs. What brought you by today? Something you need done?”

  “Not a thing, thank you. I thought since you and your son are new to town, I’d make your acquaintance and invite you to join us for service. We’re a small congregation but friendly. It’s a good way to meet your neighbors.”

  Micah scrubbed his sleeve across his forehead and reached for a clean rag, stalling for time. He’d hate to offend this man, but the last place he cared to spend his Sundays was church. Not that he didn’t believe in God. He did. But spending time under the scrutiny of well-meaning people who wanted to pray him through his problems didn’t appeal. That used to be his way, but not since Emma’s death.

  He wiped his hands and face. “Sorry, I’m not really a churchgoing man, Pastor Russell.”

  “Seth, or Pastor Seth, if it’s all right with you. I don’t see the need to stand on formality in a small town like Baker City.”

  “Pastor Seth, then. And I’m Micah.”

  Silence stretched out, and Micah’s shoulders tensed. Funny he’d have so much trouble talking to this man-of-the-cloth. At one time his pastor had been a close friend, and they’d jawed for hours on a number of subjects. Now that seemed a lifetime ago.

  Pastor Seth appeared at ease, his hat tucked under his arm. With a gentle smile, he gestured around the barn. “Looks like you’ve made some improvements since you arrived.” He nodded toward the rebuilt stall doors and the new anvil.

  Surprised the pastor hadn�
��t pursued his refusal, Micah managed, “Yes, I’m considering a bit more when I have the time and money.”

  “You’re living upstairs?”

  He nodded. “With my son, Zachary.”

  Silence again. Micah tried not to fidget. He needed to get back to work but didn’t care to be rude. Seth Russell was being decent, and Micah owed him the same courtesy.

  The pastor’s smile grew slowly until it lit his countenance. “I’ll be off then. I don’t want to keep you.” He gripped Micah’s hand once more. “If there’s ever anything you need—anything at all—my door is always open, whether or not you attend church.”

  Micah tried to keep his surprise from registering on his face. “I can’t imagine I will, but thank you just the same. I appreciate the offer.”

  Pastor Seth headed toward the door. “God be with you, Micah Jacobs.”

  The words fell around Micah’s shoulders like a warm blanket, but he shook them off. God hadn’t been with him when he needed Him the most, and Micah didn’t care to have Him start now.

  Lucy slowed her pace and pivoted toward the footsteps slapping the ground behind her.

  Zachary.

  Pleasure shot through her at the sight of her new friend. How silly that Ma thought he was a beau. She’d been honest when she tried to explain that Zachary truly listened, unlike everyone else at school. Pa had always listened when she needed someone to talk to, but since his death, Ma seemed preoccupied and rarely spent time alone with her. Of course, Ma had her hands full with the boardinghouse, and now that Grandma had arrived, Lucy knew things would get worse. She frowned and aimed a kick at a rock.

  Zachary panted from running across the street to catch her. “What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.”

  “The last four days with Grandma have been hard.”

  “I don’t have a grandma. I think you’re lucky.”

  She hunched a shoulder. “Maybe. I guess I’m glad, but sometimes she’s not very nice.”

  “To you?” He swung his cloth lunch bag between them, keeping time with their steps.

  “No, she’s pleasant to me and Mandy. Mostly she’s not kind to Ma.”

  “So was she your father’s ma, then?”

  “No. That’s the strange thing. She’s Ma’s mother. But they don’t get along at all.” Lucy kicked a pinecone out of the way. “And Ma’s never mean to Grandma. She lets her say anything she wants and never stands up for herself. Makes me mad.”

  “At your ma or your grandma?” Zachary cocked an eyebrow.

  Lucy sighed. “I don’t know. Both of them, I guess. I wish Grandma wasn’t going to stay at our house forever. In the past, when she came to visit, I knew she’d leave soon … but not this time. And before, my pa helped a lot too. He knew how to talk to Grandma when she started getting upset with Ma. Now meals aren’t very happy ’cause Grandma picks on Ma’s cooking and the way she takes care of the boardinghouse.”

  “I wish I could help.”

  Lucy shook her head, then stopped. “Maybe you can.” She grinned. “We only have one boarder right now, and he doesn’t seem to notice the things Grandma says. Or he doesn’t care—I’m not sure which. Anyway, if you mean it about helping, I have an idea …” Lucy began whispering in his ear.

  “You did what?” Katherine planted her hands on her hips and stared at her older daughter, not certain she’d heard correctly.

  “I invited Zachary and his father for supper tonight. They’re new, and Zachary says they don’t know hardly anybody yet. His pa hasn’t even taken him to church; he works all the time.”

  “But why in the world would you invite them to supper? Grandma is here, and I’ve got my hands full.”

  Lucy’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “Ma, I thought you always said we’re supposed to show hospitality to our neighbors and to people in need. Right?”

  Katherine sighed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “Zachary doesn’t have a mother. She died at least a year ago … or more … and he never gets decent meals. His pa can barely cook. Don’t you think that’s being in need?”

  Katherine wasn’t sure whether to hug her daughter for her kind heart or shake her for adding more work to her schedule without permission. Of course, it wasn’t like they had many boarders right now, and their big table was less than half full most of the time, even with Mama. “I suppose.”

  Lucy squealed and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, hugging her hard. “Thanks, Ma. You won’t be sorry. Besides, you didn’t like that I made friends with Zachary, so I hope you will change your mind once you meet him.”

  Katherine drew back. “This is the same boy you ran off with last week when you were supposed to come home and help me?”

  “Y-e-s …” Lucy drew the word out with a worried tone. “You don’t remember his name?”

  Katherine’s thoughts tumbled over each other trying to keep up. The boy Lucy had befriended was the son of the man who’d almost run over Mandy. The man who’d driven by in his wagon the day Mama arrived, who’d waved but hadn’t stopped to speak. He’d lost his wife so recently? No wonder his eyes were hooded with sadness, and his conversation was short. “No. I didn’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. You’re right. If he’s a new friend, then I’d like to meet him. Especially before you spend any more time with him.”

  Lucy nodded. “I guess I’ll go up to my room now.”

  “Oh no you don’t, young lady. You invited guests; you’re helping with supper preparations. Besides, you have regular chores, and you can’t accomplish them in your room.”

  Lucy slumped and hung her head. “I know. Is …”—she glanced toward the kitchen—“Grandma going to help too?”

  Katherine studied her daughter, wondering what was going through her young head. “I’m not sure. She’s resting right now, but she may be down before supper. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason.” Lucy perked up and spun away. “I’ll put my books in my room and be right back.” She dashed for the stairs.

  “Stop right there.” Katherine stepped toward her. “Are you sure Zachary and his father will even come for supper without me having invited them personally?”

  Lucy brightened. “Don’t worry. I told Zachary to tell his father that you’d be proud to have them come meet our family and that you’d be expecting them at six.”

  Katherine blinked. “Expecting? You made it sound as though I invited the man! I didn’t even know about the invitation until now.”

  Lucy’s blond hair swayed with the vehemence of her head shaking. “But, Ma, you are expecting him, and you’re always proud to have people meet your family. Right?” She bolted for the stairs, leaving Katherine rooted to the spot.

  So a widower and his son were coming for dinner, and the man thought she’d invited him. Katherine placed her palms against her warm cheeks and looked down at her old housedress. Well, he’d have to take her as he found her, that’s all there was to it. She was not in the market for another husband, and she’d make sure he understood that wasn’t her intent before the evening was over.

  Chapter Six

  Micah tugged at his collar, trying to loosen it. Why had he agreed to this fool notion, anyway? All right, so he wasn’t the best cook in town and a home-cooked meal didn’t sound half bad. That didn’t mean they should traipse over to some woman’s house just because she wanted to be hospitable. Even if that woman was downright pretty.

  His stomach rumbled, and he resisted the urge to slap it. Traitor.

  Zachary had added to the insult by telling him it was high time they had something to eat besides stew, potatoes and eggs, and burned biscuits.

  Micah stilled his hand. Hospitality. Wasn’t that a word women sometimes used when they were trying to lure a man into their web?

  Maybe they’d better stay home. “Zachary.” He stalked out of his room and lifted his voice again. “Where are you?”

  Zachary poked his curly dark head out of his room. “Right here. Why’re you shouting, Pa?”<
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  Micah scowled, then smoothed his features into a more pleasant expression. “I think we should send our regrets to Mrs. Galloway. You need to run over there and let her know we won’t be coming to supper tonight.”

  “Why ever not?”

  Blame it all, he hadn’t thought that far. He ran his fingers through his hair and struggled to come up with a decent excuse.

  Nothing surfaced.

  Zachary, evidently sensing his hesitation, jumped into the silence. “We’re supposed to be there in thirty minutes. You’ve always told me we shouldn’t be rude to folks. I reckon Mrs. Galloway has dinner almost finished.”

  Zachary’s common sense swept over Micah, and he slumped in defeat. There was no help for it. He didn’t care to give the woman more work on their account, but if she’d already fixed the meal, it wouldn’t be right to make her waste it either. “All right, we’ll go. But we’re not staying long.” He set his hat on his head and shoved it down hard.

  If Katherine Galloway thought she could set her cap for him, she’d better think again. It didn’t matter that she was good looking and appeared to have a sweet, quiet nature. Appearances could be deceptive. Besides, nobody could take his Emma’s place, and he didn’t aim to let this Mrs. Galloway try. No, sir.

  Frances tromped down the stairs, her head fuzzy from the late-afternoon nap. She hated needing to rest. Her joints hurt, and her body ached constantly—reminders of the advancing years. Why hadn’t Katherine awakened her and asked her to help prepare supper? Her daughter had enough on her hands washing the linens for the rooms and cleaning this house, in addition to caring for Amanda and Lucy.

  Dishes rattling in the kitchen drew Frances in that direction. Indeed, Katherine was busy preparing the meal without her assistance. Frances surveyed the room with grudging admiration. It was spacious and well lit during the daylight hours due to the large window set over the washbasin. It also had a water pump, a massive cook stove, and a multitude of shelves and cupboards. Most frontier towns didn’t boast houses this fine. Why, Katherine hardly needed the pantry situated right behind the room. “Seems like a bit much, if you ask me.”