Anna nodded dumbly. She’d passed by the Landers estate many a time and as a child dreamed of stepping inside the house that looked like a castle. The gray stone walls and verdigris roof could have graced an English country house. A fence of stone shrouded the property from view, but she’d climbed that fence as a child and had walked its length, dreaming of one day exploring the pretty little carriage house with its dusty windows and the big old house that simply had to contain secret passages.
Brandon cleared his throat, pulling Anna back to the present. “Good, good. Perhaps you aren’t aware that it contains a small apartment, quite small, smaller than this bungalow and much older, but it might suffice.”
Anna blinked. “Suffice for what?”
“For you. Both of you. You said your brother lives elsewhere.”
“As does Peter, my foster son,” said Ma. “They both live at Constance House.”
He nodded solemnly. “Good. It’s only large enough for two. One bedchamber, a small sitting room and a washroom. Would that be adequate?”
“More than adequate,” Ma bubbled. “We don’t need much space now that my boys are gone.”
Anna stared at her mother. Hadn’t she just claimed the opposite? “Where would we cook our meals?”
“You may use the kitchen in the house. It has a separate entrance.”
“Perfect.” Ma clapped her hands together. “We accept.”
“Good,” he said. “Then it’s settled.”
Anna shook her head, trying to grapple with what he was saying. “You’re offering to lease us your carriage house?”
“Just the apartment and it wouldn’t be a lease.”
Anna dropped her gaze. “We can’t afford to buy.”
“No, you misunderstand me.” He shuffled slightly, placing his weight on the stronger leg. “It seems we each have a need. You need a place to live, and I need a housekeeper. If you are agreeable to the arrangement, I would like to offer you the use of the apartment in exchange for housekeeping services. Two or three times a week should be sufficient.”
Housekeeping? He wanted her to clean his house? When he’d taken her side against Sally, she’d thought he understood how demeaning it was to be a servant. Apparently not. He was just like the rest of the rich people who lived on the hill.
“You want me to clean your house?” Anna sputtered.
He flushed. “Certainly not. That would be highly inappropriate. I was hoping Mrs. Simmons would take the position. You should be able to fit it in around your other work.”
Ma wasted no time agreeing to the plan. “That would be wonderful. Oh, Mr. Brandon, how can we ever thank you? Of course we’ll take it. It’s perfect, isn’t it, Anna?”
Perfect? Living on Brandon Landers’s charity? Living in what must be servants’ quarters? It wasn’t perfect; it was humiliating.
“No, thank you,” Anna said stiffly. “We can’t accept. It’s quite out of the question.”
“But Anna,” Ma said.
She couldn’t stand to even look at the man. First he had forced Ma and her from their home, and now he wanted to make them his servants. How dare he?
Without a word more, she slammed the door in his face.
Ma gasped, but Anna couldn’t let her mother’s desire for a larger home put them into servitude.
“I’m sorry, Ma. But we can’t live there. It’s not right.”
“Why not? It’s the answer to my prayers.”
Anna cringed. Prayer had not brought Brandon Landers into their lives. He only cared about money. Any man with an ounce of compassion would not first evict them and then make them his servants.
She stormed into the kitchen. “I’m done discussing this, Ma. I will never live in Brandon Landers’s carriage house, and I certainly won’t have you cleaning his house.”
“But it’s a place to live at no cost.”
Anna saw the pain in Ma’s eyes, but she couldn’t subjugate herself, not even for Ma. “We’ll find something else.”
She angrily pulled pans from the cupboard. They all had to be sold. Moreover, the clatter overwhelmed Ma’s soft voice. After frequent attempts to speak, her mother gave up and left the room.
Fine. Let Ma stew about it. It wouldn’t change her mind. Yes, she did feel a bit guilty that she’d upset Ma. After all, she was supposed to honor her mother, but Ma couldn’t seriously expect her to accept charity from the man who’d evicted them. She pulled another pan from the cupboard.
The front door slammed shut.
“Ma?”
No answer.
Where was she going?
Anna set the pan on the table and walked to the front window where she spotted her mother hurrying down the sidewalk toward Brandon’s car. Judging by the way she was waving, she was about to accept the deal that Anna had just rejected. Brandon didn’t seem to notice her, for he got into his sleek black Cadillac.
That didn’t stop Ma. She ran out into the street.
Anna raced out onto the stoop. A light mist was freezing on the trees and bushes. She started to call out to her mother, but the words caught in her throat when she saw Brandon drive forward.
In horrible slowness, like individual frames in a film, Ma slipped and fell—directly in front of Brandon’s car.
* * *
Brandon didn’t see Mrs. Simmons until it was too late. He was still steaming over Anna’s blunt refusal. No one had ever slammed a door in his face, especially not when he’d just made a generous offer. He was trying to help them. Couldn’t she see that?
He’d stormed to the car, and, after several misfires, finally got it started. To be honest, he hadn’t even looked for traffic before inching forward. Then he pressed hard on the accelerator, anxious to leave this debacle behind.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. At first, it didn’t register. Then he realized Mrs. Simmons was waving at him. She stepped into the street, and her feet shot out from under her. Down she fell, directly in front of his car.
He swerved and applied the brake, but the road was icy, and the tires skidded.
Please, no. Not again.
Every detail of the war came back. The acrid smell, the dull thud of artillery in the distance, the sharp fear. He’d led his men into the shelled town as directed. Nothing lived there, not even grass. Mud had swallowed the streets. Artillery had demolished the buildings. It had looked like hell, felt like hell, and would surely be his hell for all eternity.
A slight movement to the right had caught his attention. He’d turned, expecting to see the commander he was supposed to meet. Instead, shells rained down. His men scattered. He yelled for them to retreat, but they either could not or would not hear. Helpless, he watched as one by one they fell.
Just like Mrs. Simmons.
* * *
Anna screamed, unable to move.
Her mother was going to die, just like Papa had died all those years ago. She’d watched him working on a truck from her hiding place in the pile of tires. Only his legs showed. He lay under a truck that was up on a jack, its wheels off on that side. He yelled for Mr. Thompson, but his fellow mechanic wasn’t there, and for a second Anna almost went to him. But she was supposed to be in school, and if she helped him, he’d know she’d skipped class, so she stayed in the tires.
He banged again, and the jack collapsed. The truck fell to the ground. Papa cried out. Once. Then silence. Just a pool of red running out from under the vehicle.
Not again.
The car’s brakes squealed. The wheels locked and the vehicle skidded. Closer and closer it came until Anna knew Ma would die.
She closed her eyes and turned away. She couldn’t watch. But then, just like when Papa died, she looked back. She had to look. She had to know.
This time, she didn’t see
the pool of red blood. The car shuddered to a stop mere feet from Ma.
Thank God. Anna breathed out in relief. Then she noticed her mother wasn’t moving.
Brandon flung open his door and clambered out. He lost his balance and grabbed the car for support. Spotting Anna, he yelled, “Call for a doctor.”
A doctor? Anna’s heart stuck in her throat. Ma must be hurt. Or worse. Fear froze her to the stoop as Brandon inched forward on the icy road. She couldn’t move and couldn’t stop watching.
At last he reached Ma. While holding onto the car’s hood, he leaned over and extended a hand. When she reached up, Anna breathed again. Ma hadn’t died. She was just hurt.
Brandon took Ma’s hand and attempted to help her to her feet, but they both fell. At last, Anna found her legs.
“Ma!” She hurried across the yard and onto the street. “Are you hurt?”
Her mother’s face was pale as snow, but she still managed a smile. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make more trouble for you.”
Anna could have wept. She was the one making trouble. If not for her foolish pride, Ma would never have run after Brandon.
He took command. “Let’s get her into the house. You take the right side, and I’ll take the left. I believe your mother hurt her leg.”
Though Ma fussed that she was fine, she winced when Brandon started to lift her. He stopped, but she urged them on. “It’s nothing. Just an old woman’s aches and pains.”
Anna hated to hear her mother call herself old. “You can make it, Ma.”
Together, she and Brandon managed to get Ma to her feet.
“Use my cane to steady yourself.” Brandon pushed the walking stick into her hand. “Don’t put any weight on your injured leg.”
Anna held her mother around the waist while Brandon propped her up with an arm under her shoulders. As they moved toward the house, his hand accidentally brushed Anna’s neck, and she shivered, but not from the cold.
By the time they reached the stoop, the neighbors had arrived, and Peter hurried over from the garage. He took over Anna’s position, and the two men got Ma into the house.
“Miss Simmons, I suggest you call a doctor,” Brandon repeated as they settled Ma on the living-room sofa.
He’d asked her to do that earlier, when she froze. But she couldn’t call. They had no telephone.
He mistook her lack of response. “If it’s a matter of cost, I’ll pay the bill.”
She shook her head and asked Peter to make the call from the garage. He hurried off while Anna fetched a blanket and a cup of hot tea.
“Stop fussing, dear,” Ma chided as Anna wrapped the blanket around her. “I’m quite all right.”
“You haven’t moved your left leg,” Anna said. “Does it hurt?”
Ma sighed and leaned her head back. “Not much at all. Just give me a moment to collect myself.”
Brandon motioned for Anna to join him at the front door, within sight of her mother yet beyond earshot. “I believe she may have sprained or broken her ankle.”
Anna’s heart still thudded wildly after all the excitement, but it practically stopped at his words. She glanced back at her mother, whose face was still pale and drawn. Broken bones were not good for a woman Ma’s age. What if they never healed?
She felt a touch to her shoulder and looked up.
Brandon gazed at her with deep concern. “Don’t worry. Your mother will be fine. She’s a strong woman.”
“I hope you’re right.”
A knock on the door signaled Doc Stevens’s arrival. After a quick recounting of what had happened, he tended to Ma while Anna hovered anxiously. Ma flinched slightly when he examined her. Others might not notice, but Anna could tell she was in pain.
“No broken bones that I can discern,” the doctor said as he closed his bag. “We could get an X-ray in Grand Rapids. Are you able to make the train trip?”
“I can drive her there,” Brandon offered.
Anna shook her head. There was no money for X-rays, and she wouldn’t be beholden to Brandon Landers any more than she already was. “Will she heal if we don’t?”
The doctor nodded as Brandon quietly slipped out of the room. “Nothing’s displaced. Keep her in bed and off her feet. If she must go somewhere, use a crutch to keep all weight off the leg. No work or housework for at least a month.”
“A month?” Anna gasped. They had to move in only twelve days. How would she manage on her own? She gnawed her fingernails. Hendrick and Peter would have to help.
“It’s a good thing your house is single-story,” the doctor said. “I don’t want your mother climbing stairs.”
But Terchie’s Boardinghouse only had upstairs rooms. How could they move there if Ma couldn’t climb stairs?
“I’ve given her a sedative,” Doc Stevens continued. “If the pain gets worse, I’ll prescribe tincture of opium. Call if she develops a fever or if the swelling doesn’t go down in a few days.”
After thanking him and sending Peter back to the garage, Anna looked in on her mother, who had fallen asleep, and was surprised to find Brandon in the room. He’d closed the drapes and tucked a pillow beneath Ma’s head. Anna’s throat constricted. Why was he being so nice? Guilt? That must be it. After all, he was the one who’d precipitated all of this with his impossible offer.
He rose and walked softly from the room, joining her at the front entry.
“You stayed.” She whispered the words as an accusation, but part of her was also glad. How could this man both tempt and frustrate her at the same time?
Sadness swept across his features, and he gazed far beyond her into the distant past. “My mother died when I was younger than you. I know how frightening it can be to think you might lose a parent.” He swallowed and returned to the present. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Her wall of anger cracked. He did know how she felt. In fact, he’d suffered more, for both his mother and father were gone. She’d called him insensitive but she was the one who hadn’t given him a chance.
“No, I’m sorry.” She nipped her lip to stem the sudden swell of emotion. “I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. You meant well by offering us your apartment.”
His gaze dropped again. “The fault is mine. I should have realized the offer would insult you.”
She shook her head. “I was acting childishly, thinking only of myself.” A little sob escaped. “I should have considered Ma. She wants to stay in the carriage house. She believes God ordained it.”
He stiffened slightly. “I doubt divine intervention, but the offer still stands.”
“But Ma can’t work, and I won’t accept charity.”
“I know.” The faintest smile briefly lifted his lips. “Perhaps you would be willing to clean until she recovers.”
Anna shook her head. “It’s not proper.”
“I’ve been considering that. There’s an old wheelchair in the attic. Perhaps if your mother came to the house with you...”
Anna paused, trying to regain control of her senses. His plan made sense, but he stood too close, the raw scent of him muddling her mind. She stepped back and was relieved when he didn’t follow. At this moment, she needed to think clearly.
Ma had to live somewhere without stairs. The carriage house was a single-story building. It didn’t have any stairs. Presumably the house could also be entered without climbing steps or he wouldn’t have suggested Ma supervise from the wheelchair. She had to put her mother’s needs first.
“You said you required housekeeping just two or three days a week?”
He nodded. “And prepare breakfast and supper.”
That wasn’t part of the original agreement, but she couldn’t quibble over details when Ma needed a warm single-story place to live. He’d regret that addition when he tasted her cooking
. “Then thank you. I accept.”
For a month. Then she and Ma would move as far as possible from the man who sent her nerves fluttering every time he drew near.
Chapter Four
“It’s perfect,” Ma exclaimed as Brandon pushed her wheelchair into the tiny carriage-house apartment.
Anna could think of many other ways to describe the cramped rooms. Musty, cool and damp came readily to mind, but for Ma’s sake she held her tongue and walked into the sitting room. Two windows faced the house. Under one sat a small wooden table and chairs.
She pushed open the dusty curtain and a cobweb drifted onto her face. She swatted away the sticky threads. If this apartment was any indication, she’d be working full-time getting the house in order.
“It is lovely.” Ma patted Brandon’s hand. “Thank you for the use of the wheelchair. I can manage from here.”
“Not on my watch, ma’am.” Brandon hastened to help Ma out of the cane wheelchair and into one of the two armchairs by the fireplace. A cloud of dust motes rose when she sat.
“Here’s a cane to help you get around.” Brandon placed a stout walnut cane against the side of the chair, within ready reach should Ma need to walk. “I apologize again for the privy.”
Ma waved a hand. “I’ve used privies and chamber pots my entire life.”
“Still, with your injury,” he murmured, “it’s an inconvenience. Please consider staying in the house. It has indoor plumbing.”
“I’ll be just fine.” Ma clucked her tongue softly. “This is so cozy. We’re looking forward to settling in here, aren’t we, Anna?”
Anna poked at the embers in the fireplace and added another log. “Is this the only source of heat?”
Brandon looked pained. “There are only the two rooms. The fire should be sufficient to heat both.”
“Of course it will,” Ma seconded.
“Too bad there’s not a kitchen,” Anna said.
Brandon cleared his throat. “This apartment was built at the same time as the house, in the 1840s. No one thought to put a kitchen in an apartment in those days.”
Legacy of Love Page 4
