by DiAnn Mills
Once inside, folks nodded and welcomed him and the twins. Zack held his breath each time someone spoke to them, but the children remembered their manners. He introduced Curly and Charlie to so many people that he began to wonder if he’d remember everyone who had met his children.
“Mornin’, Miss Chloe,” many said. “Good to see you helping Zack.”
She responded to each of them graciously. As soon as Mama spied them, she snatched up the twins for her class. Poor Mama. Hopefully, she could keep the two in their seats. Zack and Chloe sat together for Sunday school, but he was so worried about the twins’ behavior that he only half listened. Next week he’d do better. He suddenly remembered family devotions and memorizing scripture. Another thing to add to his list of fatherhood responsibilities.
When his cousin Rebecca started playing the piano as a sign that church was ready to begin, he gathered up his charges, who still looked fairly presentable. For a moment he counted the family members who had not met Curly and Charlie. The upcoming holidays would take care of that. He glanced down the aisle to where his dad stood ready to start the service. The front pew was full with Mama, Lydia Anne, Stuart, and friends, so he took the pew behind them.
“Did you like your lesson?” Zack said to Charlie.
“Grandma told us a story about a giant, a bad man.”
He kissed her forehead. “Wonderful. What happened to him?”
“A boy killed him with a slingshot ’cause God said so.”
Zack smiled. “Wonderful. We’ll talk later.”
Chloe had pulled Curly onto her lap, so he did the same with Charlie. Now didn’t they look like the perfect family? His thoughts collided inside his mind. What in the world was he thinking? Women were bad news—like a story that didn’t make the front page. And he wasn’t the least bit interested in Chloe.
Midway through the sermon, Charlie whispered that she needed to go to the outhouse. Great. He’d have to take her outside in front of all these people. He lifted her up into his arms and excused himself as he stepped by Chloe.
“Where are you going?” Curly’s words were much too loud.
“Hush, Curly,” Charlie said. “You’re in church, even if there aren’t any sisters or a priest.”
“But why are you leaving?”
“We’re going to the outhouse.”
A snicker rose in the crowd. Zack wanted to sink through the floor. His face grew warm. Not knowing what to say to either twin, he looked to Chloe for help.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “They’re just children.”
He didn’t feel any better as he hurried down the aisle to the back door and attempted to ignore the amused congregation. Once church ended, Mama cornered him.
“Zack, why don’t you, Chloe, and my precious grandchildren come on out to the ranch? Juanita and I will have fried chicken ready in no time at all.”
It did sound good, and the twins had talked about all the fun they’d had at the ranch—except for the bull pen. He swung his attention to Chloe. “Would you join us?”
She hesitated. “Of course. I’d love to.”
“Ride with us home.” Mama teetered on her heels as though she couldn’t contain her excitement. But over what?
He glanced at the twins and then to Chloe. His normal mode of things was to exclude women. Seemed like a man had to have his senses intact and hide his wallet when it came to the female gender. He and Chloe were simply old friends. Right? Had he been taken in by a pretty face and forgotten his wariness because of the twins?
I’m in serious trouble.
*****
“I think Zack will be set nicely with plenty of clothes for the twins.” Chloe held up a yellow and green dress with a huge green bow. “Won’t Charlie look precious in this?”
“I’m simply glad Lydia Anne and Stuart’s clothes can go to someone who can use them.” Mrs. Whitworth stacked another shirt for Curly on the bed. She walked to the window and covered her mouth, but a laugh burst through. “Oh, Chloe, come look at what the twins are doing.”
Chloe stood beside the petite woman and watched the scene unfold. Stuart held the reins of a pretty nut-colored pony for the twins, who happened to be perched atop it. Brother Whitworth stood on one side of the pony, and Zack stood on the other. Each man balanced a twin.
“Oh my.” Mrs. Whitworth planted her hands on her hips. “Do you suppose the twins have ever ridden a pony before?”
“Possibly not in the city.”
Mrs. Whitworth studied her, and Chloe’s heart sped to a gallop. “Have you and Zack been writing to each other?”
“No, ma’am.” She continued to focus on the pony ride. Neither twin looked to be excited about the new adventure.
“So the night he arrived at the boardinghouse was the first time you’d seen him since last Christmas?”
“Before that.”
“He certainly appears comfortable with you.”
How was she supposed to respond? “I think he’s comfortable with me helping him with the twins.”
Mrs. Whitworth smiled sweetly. “We’ll see.”
The remainder of the afternoon floated by Chloe like a dream. She’d never been to the Whitworth ranch before. The huge house with its winding porch and gabled roof was filled with warmth and laughter, but more importantly, she’d never been around so much love. She tucked the memory of the day away to pull out when the weariness of life attempted to overtake her.
That evening, Brother Whitworth drove them back to town with his family. The twins were tired and really did quite well during church. After the services, Chloe thanked Brother and Mrs. Whitworth for the wonderful day and walked back to the boardinghouse with Zack and the twins.
“You must be exhausted,” Zack said. “I didn’t mean to take up your entire day.”
“I enjoyed myself.”
“I did, too. Is Sunday your only day off?”
“Ah, yes. But I couldn’t have spent a finer one.”
He chuckled. “I need to get these two into bed, or they’ll fall asleep in school tomorrow.”
“Would you like for me to help you?”
“I can’t impose on you any longer.” He sighed. “I realized something today.”
“What’s that?”
“They call me Zack. My first name doesn’t sound right, but what should they call me?”
“Why not ask them?”
He smiled and tugged on each little hand firmly clasped in his. “Curly, Charlie, what do you want to call me?”
“Is something wrong with Zack?” Curly said.
“Yes, there is. I’m going to legally be your father when the adoption is completed. So do you want to call me Dad or Papa?”
“I like Papa.” Charlie touched her finger to her chin.
“I called my father Papa before he died.”
She nodded and appeared to consider the matter. “I like Poppy.”
“Poppy?” He glanced at Chloe.
“Very nice,” she said.
“Curly, is Poppy all right with you?”
“Sure. If you’re our poppy, then is Miss Chloe our mommy?”
Chloe wanted to disappear into the dust that her heavenly Father had used to create her. Now she understood Zack’s humiliation this morning in church with the twins’ outburst. Heat rose in her face.
“I think it’s just the three of us.” Zack said.
Curly’s little shoulders lifted and fell. “But someday you’ll get us a mommy?”
“We’ll let God take care of that. Oh, look, here we are at the boardinghouse.”
Once inside, Zack led the children up the stairs.
“Would you like for me to make them a sandwich before they go to bed?”
He turned and smiled. “Why is it you think of everything?”
“I think it’s part of my job. What about a cup of coffee for you?”
“Only if you’ll share one with me—in the hall.”
She hoped her smile didn’t give away the ant
icipation of having a few more minutes with Zack. “I think that can be arranged. I’ll return shortly with the twins’ sandwich.”
“What do you say to Miss Chloe?”
Two very tired children mumbled a thank you. They had won her heart for sure. Their poppy had won it many years ago.
*****
Zack picked up the two plates and balanced two glasses on the top. The twins had eaten little but had drunk their milk. Now as they slept, he stole through the shadows to the door. The nutty aroma of coffee filled his senses, yet he preferred the company of Chloe to the finest coffee in the world. Life sure had changed.
She sat in the hallway with her knees drawn to her chest and her blue flowered dress draping about her. Natural beauty. Two steaming mugs of coffee and a sandwich rested on the floor.
“Is that a sandwich for me or us?” He eased down beside her.
“You. I’m not hungry.”
“Thanks.” He chuckled. “You remembered I like my coffee black.” He swung his attention toward her. “The little girl has grown into a beautiful woman.”
Her cheeks tinted pink. “I hardly know what to say.”
“Nothing to say. It’s a fact.” He picked up the sandwich. “Sure you don’t want half?”
She laughed. “Those days are over.”
“Praise God that you have grown up so . . . nicely.” He took a bite of the sandwich filled with roast beef. “This is really good.”
“I’ll pass on your compliments to Simeon. What’s on your schedule for this week?” Her soft voice gave him a tingling sensation clear to his toes.
“Get a few issues of the paper out to the community. I want to publish a daily paper soon. Talk to the various business owners about advertising. Visit a few of the smaller towns about incorporating their news into the Frontier Press. And take care of my twins.”
“Your mother is so proud of you.”
He lifted the mug of coffee to his lips. “She’d be proud of me if I worked at the livery cleaning out stalls.”
They laughed, but that was easy with Chloe. He’d never felt this relaxed with Elizabeth.
“What are you doing this week?” he said.
She tilted her head. “Working here. Stealing a moment to hug a couple of curly-headed twins when they come for breakfast and dinner.”
“Do you have any idea how good it felt tonight when those two said, ‘G’night, Poppy’?”
“Must have been special.”
“Whenever they say something that is so cute or dear to me, I tell myself to remember it when they misbehave.” Then he recalled Charlie’s request for a mommy. Should he apologize to Chloe?
“You’ll be fine, and they will too.”
“They did make it through a week without getting into trouble at school.”
She raised a brow. “Their first week of school was three days.”
“Actually, it was two and a half.”
They laughed again and finished their coffee. He’d laughed more this week than in a long time. Curly and Charlie weren’t the only blessings in his life. Another C had suddenly made him a very happy man.
Giggling from inside the room snapped him to attention.
“You hit me.”
“You hit me first.”
“That’s ’cause you kicked me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
Zack groaned. “I’d better go settle my children.”
Chapter 9
Late Tuesday afternoon, an hour before helping Simeon with dinner, Chloe busied herself by dusting the furniture in the parlor. She loved the richness of the old wood and the elegance of the overstuffed chairs in deep green and gold and the sofa with a mixture of both colors. The small tables were topped with doilies for those times boarders set their coffee cups on the rich wood. Once she couldn’t find a speck of dust either on the floor or on the furniture, she rolled up the rugs and took them outside for a good beating. Satisfied that the parlor truly invited everyone to step inside, she turned her attention to bookkeeping and the cash box.
She still basked in memories of the past Sunday with Zack and the twins. And seeing them morning and night rooted her heart in what she thought would never happen—Zack Kahler might one day look at her and not see the pitiful little girl but a full-grown woman who loved him very much. Zack was different. He’d never abuse her. Not like the other men and boys she’d encountered.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Mr. Barton interrupted her musings and sent her thoughts scattering into the corners of her mind like little mice heading for their holes.
In her reverie, she hadn’t heard the bell jingle over the door.
“My, Mr. Barton. I didn’t hear you come in.”
He grinned somewhat boyishly and strolled to her side. “It’s good to know your concentration is on the books. I look at them every night while the boarders are sleeping, and they are always in perfect order.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re pleased.” She didn’t want to think again about what he’d done to her on her first day of work.
“Did you enjoy your day off?”
“Very much.”
“I saw you at church on Sunday evening. How commendable of you to help one of our boarders with his children.” His tone edged slightly toward condescending.
While her mind searched for the right words, she offered her brightest smile. “They are lovely children.”
“The amount of time Zack Kahler has been gone from town and the absence of a wife has a bit of scandal to it. Don’t you think?”
“Not really. Mr. Kahler has never married, and the children came from an orphanage in New York. Very dire circumstances.”
“I see. That explains it all.”
“Yes sir.”
“Mind you don’t neglect your duties while he is a guest here.”
Chloe stiffened. “My first loyalties are to you, sir.”
He offered a faint smile. “Me, Miss Weaver?”
“Precisely, the boardinghouse and my bookkeeping duties.”
He glanced down at the registration book. “Perhaps they are one and the same. If you’d permit it.” With those words, he gave her a nod and disappeared around the corner. A moment later, the kitchen door creaked open, then shut.
Chloe didn’t need a New York university education to understand exactly what Mr. Barton implied. If not for Zack and how she’d loved him for years, she might consider Mr. Barton. He was a good man—simply lonely. And that she understood.
She’d allowed herself to slip into a dream world again. Was she being foolish? Zack needed help, and she’d been there to give it. When she considered his education, status in the community, and ambition to succeed in life, why would he ever give Chloe, a young woman with a Comanche heritage, a second look?
*****
Friday morning, Zack tapped at the typewriter on his desk. He used two fingers and had to be careful not to make a mistake. Someday when he had the money, he’d hire someone to type up his articles. Until then, he’d labor hours over this machine.
He’d spent Tuesday and Wednesday contacting business owners about their advertisements in the Frontier Press. Some were a bit skeptical about his new ideas. He wanted to give business owners something fresh and appealing to bring in more revenue, but some folks resented change and preferred the old ads. He’d contacted a few national businesses while still in New York and had secured advertising from Calumet Baking Powder, Maxwell House Blend Coffee, tooth powder, and razor blades. It was a beginning. He needed to plan a day in Houston to study the Post and the Chronicle.
The first week of December, the weekly paper would officially become a daily. Next week, he planned to call on the folks in neighboring towns. His thoughts were to feature each town and their local news along with what was happening in the county, state, and world. He’d wire Austin for the latest news from Governor Campbell’s office, and he had connections in Washington for the current events surrounding the White
House and President Taft.
Miss Scott indicated an interest in a women’s page, so he hired her to write that column. He wanted the folks around Kahlerville to read the society news from their own paper. Everything from communication to cooking interested him, because those topics sold newspapers. He loved this business. It simply excited him, as though his veins were filled with newspaper ink.
And when his day was over and his whole body ached, he had Curly and Charlie to keep him company. Zack lifted his two forefingers from the typewriter and allowed his thoughts to venture toward Chloe. The twins loved her, and she doted on them as though they were the only two children in the whole world. How quickly they had adapted to their new life. And so had he.
Of course, he was partial, and he enjoyed every minute of it. He wanted to ask her about Thanksgiving. Uncle Morgan and Aunt Casey planned to have dinner at their ranch, and Zack really could use Chloe’s help with the twins. He shook his head and placed his fingers on the typewriter keys again. Who was he fooling? Chloe had tiptoed into his heart, and he wanted to keep her there. To think he’d allowed Elizabeth in New York to hurt him. She and Chloe were nothing alike.
Before Zack realized what had happened to the day, Lydia Anne and Stuart walked in with the twins. Zack did a double take, then stood.
“Were you two fighting at school today?”
Zack studied Lydia Anne, who was far too blond and pretty for a sixteen-year-old. But she was his parents’ problem. Lydia Anne smiled but didn’t say a word. His gaze swung to Stuart, the spitting image of Dad.
“Has everyone forgotten how to talk? Unless my eyes have deceived me, Curly has a black eye, and Charlie’s dress is dirty.” Zack stared at each one, but no one offered an answer. “Somebody had better speak up.”
“We were fighting, Poppy.” Charlie’s best little-girl voice wouldn’t melt him this afternoon.
Zack did his best to shove aside the work that still needed his attention and concentrate on the problem at hand. “Did Miss Scott send a note?”
“Yes sir.” Curly handed him a piece of paper.
“Oh my. It’s amazing how good your manners are today.” He read the note:
Zack,
