by DiAnn Mills
He smelled chicken and realized the promised chicken and dumplings were simmering on the stove. The tantalizing aroma of apples and cinnamon confirmed an apple pie. Lydia Anne and Stuart would be home from school, and he wanted to spend time with them.
“I’m sure the twins will be fine.” Mama glanced out the parlor window where they played.
“They could handle themselves on the street, but a farm is another matter.”
“I hope you’ll let them spend lots of time here. I want to get to know my grandchildren. They remind me of little angels.” She made her way back to the sofa beside Dad. “I love their curly red hair and freckles.”
“You haven’t seen them in action.”
“I wish you’d tell us what happened in New York and how you came to adopt them. Juanita has dinner in order, so time is not a problem.”
“Are you sure you want to know the whole story?”
“Yes, we do. Isn’t that so, Travis?”
Dad muffled a laugh behind his hand, as though he knew the secret about the double-trouble grandchildren. Mama shot him one of her this-is-no-laughing-matter looks.
Zack took a deep breath. Curly and Charlie were not to blame for their impoverished life in New York. “They lived on the streets. Their father died when they were babies, and I don’t know who raised them while their mother worked. She died in a tragic factory fire last March, apparently leaving no one to care for them. I’m not sure how long they fended for themselves before being placed in an orphanage.”
“Those poor children,” Mama said. “How did you find out about their horrible circumstances?”
Zack knew this question would come, and he had yet to form a response—except he may as well tell the truth.
“I think this is going to be a tremendous story.” Dad placed his hands behind his head and tossed a teasing grin Zack’s way. “How did you meet Curly and Charlie? I might want to use this in a sermon. How you and I met has worn out through the years.”
Zack clearly recalled the day Brother Whitworth arrived in town. While on the way to the parsonage, he broke up a fight between Zack and another boy. That story had spiced many a sermon.
“Now, Travis, give him time.” Mama paused. “But I want to know too.”
This time Zack laughed. “They picked my pocket.”
Once he finished the story and confirmed the twins were still playing where he’d placed them, he relaxed slightly.
“We’re right here to help.” Dad stood and made his way to the window and observed the twins. “You’ve bitten off a God-sized project. But I believe you’re the man for the job.”
“Thanks. I’m not so self-assured. Glad you two are here for me. When I consider the fate of those two being picked up on the street and sold to work until they were adults or put onboard an orphan train, well, I’m glad they’re in my care. The twins have no living relatives.”
“But how were you able to take them from the orphanage without a wife?” Mama said.
Zack chuckled. “Oh, I have to send the judge recommendation letters from key people in town. Like my uncles. Hope they don’t hold my past against me.”
“My guess is Morgan and Grant will have a good laugh,” Dad said. “But, son, you’re a good man, and they know it.”
“First off, I’m going through Stuart’s outgrown clothes for Curly,” Mama said. “And I know I have a box of things for Charlie that Lydia Anne used to wear.”
“I appreciate that, Mama. Life will be easier once the newspaper is running smoothly, and we’re out of the boardinghouse.” He hesitated. “How long has Chloe Weaver been working there?”
“I have no idea.”
“She sure has grown up.”
“We noticed you noticed.” Dad chuckled.
“Now, Travis. He was only admiring a pretty girl.”
“He nearly dropped little Charlie.”
Zack didn’t respond. Had he made a fool of himself in front of Chloe? Why, he was supposed to be the sophisticated man from the city. The memory of Mr. Barton presenting her with flowers crept into his thoughts. Search your mind, man. Say something.
“I was merely surprised at how quickly she’d grown.”
“I see.” Dad coughed.
Mama shook her finger at him.
Zack peered behind him and didn’t see Curly or Charlie. He stood and stared out the window toward the red-painted barn and pasture just in time to see the two climb over the fence—that held the bull.
“Oh no.” He hurried past Mama and Dad and on through the kitchen and out the door. “The twins are in with the bull.” He raced down the back porch steps and toward the fence. “Curly, Charlie, get out of there now.”
Neither twin looked his way. They’d skipped toward the animal with no thought or fear. Didn’t they question its massive horns? Then he saw why. Two of the kittens scampered at the children’s feet.
Dear Lord, please. Don’t take them away before I have a chance to take care of them.
“I got the gate,” Dad called from close behind.
Zack couldn’t waste his strength in responding. The fence loomed a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly the twins realized the mammoth black bull stood in front of them. “Get out of there,” he said and hoped he didn’t sound as scared as he felt.
As though paralyzed, the children stared at the bull. Zack grabbed the top of the wooden rail fence and vaulted over. The bull snorted and pawed at the ground. In the next breath, Zack grabbed the children at their waist, one in each arm, and whirled around toward the gate. Dad held it open for Zack to squeeze by with the children. Mama ran from the barn with a pitchfork. Dad snatched it up and stepped inside the gate.
Zack could hear the bull behind him, almost smell its breath. The distance to the gate narrowed. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Dad moved back outside the gate and lifted Curly from Zack’s arms as he raced by. The gate slammed shut. Gasping, Zack set Charlie on her feet and held his knees. Every muscle, every nerve in his body protested. His lungs ached.
“Son, you all right?” Dad’s hand gripped his shoulders.
Zack nodded, still too out of breath to speak. He inhaled a painful breath. “Are . . . are the twins all right?” He glanced and saw Mama had a firm hand on each twin’s hand. Her pale face clearly displayed her fright. Tears streamed down Curly and Charlie’s cheeks.
“Don’t you ever disobey me again.” He slowly stood. “You scared the wits out of me.”
“What was that?” Curly’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Zack saw how frightened they were. He took another breath and reached out for them, drawing their trembling bodies to his. “It was a bull, and it could have killed you with its horns. I asked you to play by the house for a reason. When I tell you something, you must obey.”
“Yes sir.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. Right now, we’re going inside the house. You’ll stay there until I decide to show you around the ranch.”
*****
Long after sundown, Chloe sat at the registration desk and watched the front door for Zack and the children. She really didn’t have to wait for them, but making sure that the boarders were happy was part of her job. At least she kept telling herself that. How had one man and two children captured her attention in so short a time?
But Zack had been on her heart and mind for many a year, and try as she might, he held a special spot. The door jingled, and Zack walked in carrying a sleeping Charlie.
“Can you help me?” he whispered. “I’ve got the key in my pocket, but would you mind opening our door?”
“Of course.” She stepped from behind the registration desk and tried not to show her eagerness to help.
Zack balanced the sleeping little girl on his knee and retrieved the key. “Thanks so much.”
“Where’s Curly?”
“He’s asleep in the wagon.” He frowned. “I need to return the wagon.”
She lau
ghed lightly. “Zack Kahler, I believe you have yourself in a pickle. Bring Curly in, and I’ll stay with the twins until you return.”
His brown eyes widened, and with his hair dipped onto his forehead, he looked quite the boy she remembered. “I really appreciate this. They wore themselves out at my folks’ ranch.” Once she unlocked the door, he laid Charlie on a bed. “They had a little problem with a bull this afternoon, but hopefully it taught them a lesson. It did me, anyway.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.”
“I will.” He started to pull off Charlie’s shoes.
“Go on ahead. I’ll get her tucked in.”
“You are a gift from God.” Although his words were spoken in a whisper, she wanted to shout them from the rooftops.
Chloe, you are a grown woman. Didn’t you insist that you had no use for men? She had made that declaration, but she hadn’t considered the possibility of Zack ever being part of her life again.
A moment later, she heard him mount the stairs and met him at the door. “Charlie hasn’t moved.” She reached out her arms. “I’ll take him. Go ahead and return the wagon.”
“Thanks.” Zack disappeared, but she waited to hear the bell above the door before turning her attention to Curly.
What a sweet face. Both of them. She sat on the side of the bed and watched their peaceful slumber. She hoped Zack understood these treasures. Once, a long time ago, when she was thirteen, she’d wakened and discovered Pa standing over her. At first she was afraid, but he touched her cheek and told her to go on back to sleep. It was the only time after her mother’s death that he ever showed any affection. Chloe treasured that memory.
Within the half hour, Zack returned. “Thank you again,” he said between breaths.
“You didn’t have to rush. I enjoyed watching the twins sleep.”
“I didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness. And I didn’t want them to wake up and wonder what happened to me.”
He was a loving father. “Do you want to tell me about the bull?”
“Sure.” He motioned to the hallway. “We could talk out there.”
Chloe joined him on the wooden floor outside the room. With the door cracked open, Zack leaned against the wall.
“What a day.” He shook his head. “What a whirlwind these past few days have been.”
“I’m sure the trip from New York was exhausting.”
He chuckled. “The trip was only part of it.”
“How long have you had the twins? I mean by yourself.”
“Always by myself. I’ve had them about six days.”
“Six days?” Surely she’d heard wrong.
“Do you want to hear the whole story?”
A parade filled with automobiles couldn’t have stopped her from listening to his every word.
“It started last Thursday. That was the first time I laid eyes on Curly and Charlie. Two days before I left New York, I was walking home from the newspaper office and slipped on the ice. Suddenly one freckled-faced little boy offered to help me up. I politely refused but offered him a quarter for his trouble. He looked terribly thin, and his clothes were threadbare. I looked again, and there were two of them. I gave that one, who I thought was a boy, a quarter, too. They thanked me and took off down the street.”
How generous.
“It took only a moment to discover my wallet was missing. I forgot about slipping on any more ice and took out after the two.”
A giggle escaped Chloe’s mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny—”
“Go ahead and laugh. They are a clever pair. Anyway, I caught them and retrieved my wallet. About that time, a police officer approached us. He knew the twins. I learned they’d run away from a Catholic Charities orphanage. This wasn’t the first time. Their mother had died in a factory fire some months before. I couldn’t get those two out of my mind. I kept seeing their thin arms and toeless shoes. The next morning, as soon as I said my good-byes to my friends at the newspaper office, I walked to the orphanage with the idea of making arrangements to send them money on a regular basis.” He shook his head. “Now, you will laugh.”
“Go ahead. So far, it all sounds very heartwarming.” She blinked to disguise a stray tear.
“The sister there thought I’d come to adopt them. I learned that sometimes the twins ran off and sold newspapers for a little money. Unfortunately, New York City is filled with children trying to earn a living that way. And before I knew it, I was convinced that this is what God wanted me to do. I appeared before a judge that afternoon, and here we are.” He took a breath. “During the evening, Curly told me Charlie was a girl.”
Another giggle surfaced. “Any regrets, Mr. Kahler?”
“No. There are times, however, when I think I must have lost my mind. Like this afternoon when the twins chased some kittens into the bull’s pen.”
By the time he finished the latest story, Chloe was ready to build a monument in his honor. “I’m not the least surprised at your adopting them. Have you forgotten the hungry little girl you used to bring a sandwich to every day?” Instantly, she wished she hadn’t brought up those humiliating days.
“I remember. I used to worry about what you ate on Saturday and Sundays.”
“Sometimes I saved part of the sandwich for those days. You’re a good man, Zack Kahler. Curly and Charlie are very lucky children.”
“I think I’m a lucky man. But I have so much to learn. They gave me a jolt today, and I didn’t know whether to warm their behinds or hold them tight.”
“You’ll figure it all out.”
“I hope so. They’re six, but their lives up to this point haven’t been good. And there’s so much to do at the newspaper. At least the two are in school during working hours, and my sister and brother volunteered to bring them to the office in the afternoons. Excuse me, I’m complaining like an old man.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I believe Mr. Barton has you pretty busy.”
“My Sundays are free.” Should she have been so bold?
He glanced down at his hands, then up at her face. “Would you like to help me with the twins this Sunday? I need to take them to church. I might need to lasso them into a pew.”
She started to say that people would talk if she joined them. But if God had decided to answer her dreams by blessing her with Zack and the twins for a Sunday morning, well—“I’d be glad to.”
Chapter 8
Sunday morning, Zack held the hand of a twin on each side of him, and Chloe walked alongside Curly on the road toward Piney Woods Church. Chloe reminded him of a freshly picked rose—perfect. He could get lost in those enormous dark brown eyes. And her hair reminded him of black silk draping down her back. It would be hard to keep his attention on the service today. He recalled how Elizabeth always wore stylish clothes and had her hair fixed all over her head in curls, but she paled in comparison to Chloe. Hadn’t he convinced himself that he had no time for a woman? Mercy. His resolve must be sitting on the sidewalk in New York—right where he’d fallen.
Chloe gathered Curly’s other hand into hers. Good. At least he couldn’t pick his nose. Heaven forbid what might come from the twins’ mouths this morning. But they did look very civilized with cheeks like polished apples and dressed like preacher’s kids—or rather, grandkids.
“This church will be strange without sisters and a priest,” Curly said.
“Oh, I think you’ll get used to it. Remember, Grandpa is the preacher. And Grandma will be your Sunday school teacher.”
The twins were silent—a rarity unless they were nervous about new surroundings. A little over a week with them had taught him that much.
“You will have fun and learn about Jesus.” Zack glanced over at Chloe in hopes she could add a word or two to ease the twins’ uneasiness.
“We don’t like school,” Curly said. “Do we, Charlie?”
The little girl shook her red curls. “We want to go to the newspaper office with you.”<
br />
“Why?” This was the first Zack had heard about their discontent with school.
“The kids say we talk funny,” Curly said. “And they laugh.”
Zack swallowed his amusement. “You and Charlie come from a different part of the country.”
“But I want to sound like them. Say y’all and fixin’.”
This time he laughed aloud. “Oh, you will once you’ve lived here awhile.”
“Hope so. I’m tired of them sayin’ we talk too fast. And I don’t like it when they call us Irish stew. I like it when Grandpa calls us that, but not the kids at school.”
“Pretend it doesn’t bother you,” Chloe said. “When I was a little girl, the children used to tease me too.”
Charlie peeked around Zack to see the lovely young woman beside him. “Why, Miss Chloe?”
“Because I didn’t look like them.”
Zack smiled at her. She knew exactly what to say.
He studied Piney Woods Church. Many memories lived within those walls. As always, it glistened with the newest coat of paint. The stained-glass windows were intact, a gift to the church from his uncle Morgan and uncle Grant some years before. The church members never found out who had financed them, but Zack had overheard the conversation with his dad. Dad said the hymnals had recently been replaced, and he was proud of them. To the left of the church stood the old parsonage. It too sparkled with a new coat of paint. The church had sold it to one of the deacons under the condition that it would always be kept up. This was the church where his parents had been married and his father had been buried. This was also where Mama and Dad had married and where his grandparents’ funerals had been held. Life and death. All a part of each person’s journey to eternity. To Zack, this church represented all those things that had molded him into a man and set him on the right road.
