Mitch wasn’t even sure how to answer that as the other man came over and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve been in a difficult situation, and I can’t imagine how coping with your late wife’s circumstances has burdened you. It’s no surprise that even despite your best efforts, your children have suffered under that weight as well.”
His circumstances. Mitch exhaled slowly. Frank wasn’t talking about Polly at all. Clearly, Mitch’s mind had been on the wrong things. Frank was right in drawing his attention back to the children. He’d allowed himself to get distracted, which wasn’t a good thing when he had so much at stake.
The children were only a part of Mitch’s larger worries.
“Do you know when Will is due back?”
The question was a deliberate change of subject, and recognition of that fact dawned across Frank’s face.
“I haven’t heard. Even with him taking the train, it’s liable to be a few more days. But rest assured that he will do his best.”
Frank shrugged. “We still have the power of prayer, and the Lord’s will shall prevail. I know things seem hopeless right now, but I’ve been praying for you and your situation. We serve a big God Who can do mighty things.”
Over the years, he’d had ladies come in to his store telling him that they’d pray for him for this and that, and usually he thought it was a nice sentiment that wouldn’t do him any good, even though the women meant well. Hearing it come out of Frank’s mouth, Mitch almost believed praying might actually get him results.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I suppose I’m willing to accept God’s help, should the Lord be willing to provide.”
Frank clapped him on the back again. “And that’s all we can do. Sometimes the reason we don’t see the Lord in action is because we aren’t open to receiving. So don’t let worry over the situation trouble you. Will will return in good time, and then we can create a plan of action.”
Mitch nodded slowly, hopeful that even though things didn’t necessarily look the way he wanted them to, there was still the chance they would work out. Will was doing what he could, the children were progressing and for the first time in his life, Mitch felt like he had God on his side.
An eruption of laughter came from the kitchen, far different from the conflict that had interrupted him and Polly earlier.
Frank grinned. “Ah, now that is a sound I always hope to have in my home. Laughter is so good for us all. Let’s see what tomfoolery they’ve all gotten into. Perhaps we can join in.”
The men walked into the kitchen, where they saw Polly standing in front of the children with a pot on her head.
“What is this about?” Frank chuckled as Polly turned to face them.
She grinned. “I was pretending to be a fine gentleman so they knew how to address me.”
“Maddie won’t like you using her pot,” Frank said as she removed it from her head.
“I know, but we won’t tell her, will we?” She winked as she put the pot back on the counter. “But now that we do have some fine gentlemen in the room, let’s all practice how we will greet them, shall we?”
“Good day, sirs,” the children chorused, sounding every bit as proper as those educated in the finest schools. The Taylor Terrors were no more.
Mitch looked over each of his children, one by one. The boys had their hair neatly combed, and the girls wore theirs in proper braids, with nary a strand out of place. They were clean, and their clothes all properly arranged, with no tears, misbuttoned buttons or anything amiss. Both Clara and Rory used to scream as though they were being murdered when forced to take a bath. And to get any of them to brush their hair?
Surely if his children could be so transformed, then so, too, could his life. The idea of being exonerated didn’t seem so hopeless anymore. In only a few weeks, he’d seen enough positive change in his family that he could believe anything was possible.
Polly clapped her hands. “That was well done, everyone. I think you’ve all worked hard enough for now. Let’s take a break. It’s a nice day outside, so you may all go out and play. Just stay in the yard.”
The children needed no further encouragement, as they got up from their seats and quietly walked to the door. Before Mitch could say anything, they were outside, laughing and carrying on. Once again, he marveled at how happy they sounded. The squabbling he’d resigned himself to had all but disappeared.
“How do you do it?” he asked, looking at Polly.
She’d gone over to the stove and was holding up a tea kettle. “Make tea? It’s quite simple, really, and incredibly convenient on the Lassiters’ stove. I quite despair of having to go back to a place without one.”
Her eyes twinkled, and as he was about to protest, he realized she was teasing him.
“I’m assuming you mean the orderly way they left the room,” Polly said with a grin. “That’s simple. We’ve had several days where they did not leave in an orderly fashion, and they forfeited their time outside.”
Then she came and sat at the table. “The children have spent years suffering punishments that don’t fit the crime. I know how hard that can be, and I do my best to be kind and fair. They don’t always like how things work out, but they know that in the end, I’m going to be just.”
How could so many other nannies have not seen this? Not chosen to act in the children’s best interests?
He stared at Polly. “Why weren’t the other nannies able to do this for them?”
She shrugged. “Everyone has different philosophies in raising children. Besides, in the past, the nannies were also acting on Hattie’s instructions. You’ve given me freedom to care for them as I see fit.”
Frank joined them at the table. “Now that is wisdom I needed to hear.” He placed his hands over Polly’s and looked at her with all the love of a father, even though he wasn’t her father.
“I couldn’t understand why you’ve been wanting to leave us, but now I do. You’ve been telling us all along that you want your freedom to make your own decisions. We thought we’d given you that, but I can see how we’ve been asking you to do it in the context of how we want things done. Mitch’s children have blossomed. And I credit that to you, and using that freedom wisely.”
Frank turned his gaze toward Mitch. “Thank you for giving Polly this opportunity. It’s helped me see her far better than I ever have.”
Polly’s eyes welled up with tears as Frank brought his attention back to her. “You are an amazing woman, and I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t giving you enough freedom in your obligations here.”
Feeling like an intruder, Mitch started to push back in his chair to leave.
“Don’t go,” Frank said. “I know you and Polly have much to discuss.”
Then he gave Mitch that same fatherly look. “You’re struggling with the mistakes you’ve made with your children, but I want to be an example to you that we can’t always get it right. All you can do is acknowledge where you’ve gone wrong and do your best to make it right.”
Mitch nodded slowly, wishing he could wipe away all the wasted years. The hurting years. He’d thought he’d done the right thing by his children, only...
“You’ve got to forgive yourself,” Frank said, as if he was reading Mitch’s thoughts.
As Polly got up, she touched Mitch’s shoulder gently. “Uncle Frank is right. It’s the only way to move on.”
Passing Frank, she stopped and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And of course I forgive you. You were only looking out for my best interests. How can I fault you for that?”
Mitch watched as Polly went to the stove and retrieved the kettle of boiling water to make the tea. Her skilled hands mesmerized him. Though it was a common, everyday activity, Polly moved with such grace and fluidity, watching her was a pleasure.
“She is too good to me
,” Frank said, smiling. “I don’t know what I would have done without her and Gertie after my Catherine died. I did the best I could to keep the ministry going, but Gertie’s tireless efforts, along with Polly’s assistance, helped me carry on. Annabelle was lost in her grief, and I couldn’t reach her.”
“There now,” Polly said, setting the teapot on the table, along with a plate of sugar cookies. “We only did for you what you did for us. We had nothing when you and Catherine first came to the camps. But because of you, I could continue my education, and Ma found meaningful work that kept food on the table during lean times. We look out for each other, and when times are bad for one, the other picks up the slack. It’s how it’s done.”
As she handed out the cups, she looked at Mitch. “The hospitality we show you is only the hospitality shown to us. I know you’ve felt guilty about taking so much, but we’ve been on the receiving end, just like you.”
Her smile filled him with a sense of peace as he put Frank’s words together with hers. They’d created a real community amongst themselves—a family. And somehow, Mitch had found himself adopted into it, even before he’d known how desperately he’d needed them.
The only trouble was, when Polly’s hands brushed his while she poured the tea, he didn’t think of her as a sister.
* * *
Polly tried to relax as they sat in the kitchen, enjoying their tea. But with Mitch, she felt on edge. Uncertain as to how to behave. There’d been another note in her apron pocket, one that said, “You’re beautiful.”
He was staring at her again, with that funny look on his face. Was he thinking about how beautiful he thought she was? She ought to say something, but what?
Polly sipped her tea, trying to focus on the delicate flavor rather than these troubling thoughts. Her conversation with Mitch had been all about encouraging him as a father and letting him know that the welcome he received here was the welcome they’d give anyone.
If only her heart raced like this for everyone.
Oh, how she wished she could find something to make them joke and smile about. Something to ease this strange tension in the room.
Was it wrong to hope the children would come inside and need her for something?
Uncle Frank watched her like he knew there was something on her mind but wasn’t sure if he should ask her about it. If he did, she could hardly tell him the truth. But she also couldn’t lie.
“Well,” he said slowly. “I suppose I have a sermon to prepare. They don’t write themselves. I’m sure you two have plenty to discuss.”
Polly stared at him. “Do we? That’s the second time you’ve referenced Mitch and me needing to discuss something.”
Then she turned her attention to Mitch. “Unless there’s something I don’t know about.”
The blank expression on his face made Polly feel a little better, especially when she caught the sheepish look on Uncle Frank’s face. Surely he wasn’t in matchmaking mode.
Uncle Frank coughed. “No, I just thought, you know...it’s always good to have a chance to talk without the children around.”
“I’m fairly certain we’ve covered everything we need to,” Polly said, settling into her chair with her cup of tea. A quick glance at the clock told her that she only had a few more minutes of peace before she’d need to gather the children again. She’d promised them they could help Maddie bake cookies, and Maddie would be home from helping at the mission soon.
She settled back and closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet silence, knowing it wouldn’t last long. The squeak of the floorboards told her that Uncle Frank had gone to his office to catch up on his sermon preparation. Though she could feel Mitch’s presence, he remained silent, seemingly content to enjoy the stillness as she did.
Polly could have fallen asleep but for the soft ticking of the clock reminding her that there wasn’t much time left in her short break. She opened her eyes to see Mitch staring at her.
“Sorry. Is something amiss?”
“Not at all.” He smiled easily, almost rakishly, sending a tiny jolt to Polly’s heart. “You just looked so peaceful sitting there, and I realized that the children have kept you incredibly busy. You haven’t had any time off since you took the post.”
Naturally. Polly blinked several times to clear the sleep out of her eyes and the fog out of her brain. The notes she’d been finding were clearly addling her mind. Mitch was thinking of her merely as an employee, of caring for her, of doing the right thing. As a human being, not a suitor.
But if he’d been leaving the notes...
She searched his face for any sign of his feeling something more. Of wanting there to be more between them. She found none.
“I haven’t minded. Extenuating circumstances and all that. I’m sure when your situation has calmed down, we can make up for it.” She adopted as pleasant of an expression as she could muster, ignoring the odd pang in her heart over his focus on his duty.
“Still, it’s not right. You may not mind, but I’ve taken advantage of you dreadfully. Tomorrow you’ll have a day off.”
She stared at him. “But what about the children? Who will mind them?”
Mitch shrugged. “I will. It will do us some good to spend time together as a family.”
How could she argue with his logic? And yet, being parted from the children, even for one day, didn’t feel right.
“Are you sure you can manage?”
He gave a small chuckle. “Yes, I think I can manage. I’ve learned a lot in a few days, and even if I don’t get everything exactly right, everything will be all right.”
And then he stopped. Looked as though he were in deep thought. Then smiled, a long satisfied expression spreading across his face.
“Yes. I do believe everything will be all right.”
Turning his gaze to Polly, he said, “Thanks to you and Frank, I’m confident that no matter what happens, everything really will be all right. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
His sincerity made Polly feel guilty for even suspecting him of having ulterior motives. Mitch was just trying to deal with a bad situation and was appreciative of all the help he’d received from Polly. Nothing more.
All the more reason for her to keep focused on the children, not the way the light from the window shone against his blond hair. Handsome is as handsome does, her mother used to tell her, and right about now, she had to keep that advice in mind. The trouble was, Mitch was just as handsome on the inside as he was on the outside.
The back door banged open.
“Papa! You’re still here!” Clara ran into the room and jumped onto her father’s lap.
Rory and Thomas soon followed, and Polly’s heart delighted in seeing the children with their father.
“Why haven’t you gone to work at Uncle Andrew’s store?” Rory asked, his question not trying to get rid of his father so much as it was finding out why he was home.
In an earlier conversation, Mitch had told Polly that he often worked long hours. He’d left his own store in the care of trusted employees in Denver, but even upon coming to Leadville, he’d found solace in working in his brother’s store.
At least until crowds had gathered, wanting information on the accused murderer in their midst.
“As it turns out, Uncle Andrew doesn’t need my help. And I’d much rather spend the time with you.”
Polly caught the wistful expression in Mitch’s eyes. He’d wanted to do something to help his brother out, but his presence had only made for bad business. She’d overheard Uncle Frank telling him that he’d see what he could do to encourage parishioners to visit Taylor’s Mercantile and shop as they normally would to help detract from the unwanted attention.
But knowing that Mitch was an honorable man, it had to be hard to sit back and do nothing, which is exactly what both Uncle
Frank and Will had told him. The fact that he listened to them, well, Polly had to admit that it raised her estimation of him. Wisdom and the ability to take advice was a rare thing in folks these days, so she admired Mitch having both.
Isabella had crawled into Polly’s lap, her favorite place to be when she wasn’t running around with the others. Absently, Polly rubbed the little girl’s back, enjoying the rhythm. Isabella snuggled closer to her.
“She’s really taken to you, hasn’t she?” Mitch’s voice rumbled over her, warm like the cup of tea she’d just finished, only it heated her to a depth that made everything feel right with the world.
“She has.” Polly stroked the dark curls, untangling the mess that never seemed to behave. Isabella had already fallen asleep.
“It’s a wonder—that girl can sleep anywhere.”
Polly smiled as she looked down on the dark lashes resting against velvety skin. Her mother used to say that she loved her babies so much that she thought her heart would burst. So what did it mean when you felt that way about a little girl who wasn’t even your own?
“She’s had to learn.” Polly looked up and smiled at Louisa. “Louisa told me that none of the children have ever had regular nap times. To them, nap time was what the nannies gave them when they were fed up with the children’s antics. To even suggest a nap to any of the children means that they’ve done something wrong.”
Weaving her fingers through Isabella’s hair to get out a few more tangles, Polly continued. “But the little ones need the sleep, and so with Isabella, she’s learned to sleep whenever and wherever she feels tired. If you suggest a nap to her, she’ll scream and throw a fit. But if you give her a safe and loving place to sleep, she’ll drift off easily.”
Polly had learned that one the hard way the first day she cared for the children. She’d tried to get Isabella to take a nap, and the little girl had screamed and thrown things every time Polly closed her in the room. She’d finally given up and let Isabella sit quietly with her. Isabella had fallen asleep within minutes.
“Mrs. Abernathy used to lock her in the closet to get her to nap,” Louisa said, coming to stand behind Polly. “So I would find Isabella little places to hide. If Mrs. Abernathy found her, and she was asleep, she’d let Isabella stay there, and she wouldn’t have to go to the closet.”
The Nanny's Little Matchmakers (Love Inspired Historical) Page 15
