by Arlene James
“Then you’re Native American.”
She smiled. “Mostly.”
“No wonder you’re so beautiful.” She looked as shocked as he felt, the words slipping out completely unintended. “I mean, no wonder your hair and eyes are so black and your skin is so...smooth.”
Her “Thank you” came out in a strangled voice, but then she quickly said, “I’d better get back to the house.”
Dixon muttered, “Gonna work the horses.”
She hurried away, and when he finished mentally kicking himself, he determined to do his very best to keep his distance.
He put his hand in his coat pocket and felt the half-filled baggie there.
Clearly the woman was dangerous to his good sense. If nothing else.
Chapter Five
No wonder you’re so beautiful.
Those unexpected words haunted Fawn—and apparently drove Dixon away, because she saw him only at breakfast and dinner for the rest of the week. With the baby, he made faces and silly noises, perfectly pleasant, but he ignored Fawn and Jackie. He did, however, eat and eat plenty. Once, Fawn asked how the cow was doing.
“Getting along,” he muttered, not even looking up.
She didn’t ask again.
By Friday, the pantry and the baby were nearly bare, so Fawn did what her grandmother had taught her to do: she took stock, devised a menu, made a list, estimated the cost of every item and counted out the cash. What little disability and survivor’s Social Security Jackie and Bella drew monthly was currently entrusted to Fawn’s care, and she was careful not to pay her own expenses from it. The shopping list and the cash she left on the breakfast table next to Dixon’s plate. When he came in to eat, he couldn’t help seeing it, and he wasn’t happy.
“You sure make yourself at home, don’t you? Guess you think you’re just going to take over around here.”
Stung, she turned her back to him and began scrubbing the countertop. “Actually I think I’m going to clean the kitchen.”
Jackie shuffled in a few moments later, the fussy baby in her arms. Fawn began rinsing and drying her hands.
“Someone woke up early,” Dixon commented, sounding pleased.
“Rather, she slept late,” Jackie corrected, yawning. “She slept through until just now.”
“I have a bottle ready for her,” Fawn said, coming to take the baby so Jackie could sit down. “Did you change her?”
“I did. We’re running low on diapers, by the way.”
Fawn said nothing to that. She could always take Bella to town with her and do the shopping, but she hated to leave Jackie alone. It had been too long since Jackie had seen a doctor, another matter Fawn needed to take up with Dixon soon. Feeding Bella took precedence, however. She picked up the waiting bottle and slipped the nipple between the baby’s quivering lips.
“I think it’s warmer in the living room,” Jackie murmured, but before she could turn away, Fawn stopped her.
“Sit down and eat while your breakfast is still hot.” She carried the baby back to Jackie and waited for the older woman to take a seat at the table before handing the infant to her. Jackie cuddled her daughter close while Fawn quickly removed Jackie’s breakfast from the warming oven. She placed the food on the table and took Bella back.
“This looks good,” Jackie said, picking up her spoon and casting a careful glance at her son.
“It is,” Dixon confirmed, surprising Fawn with the compliment.
No wonder you’re so beautiful.
Flustered and confused, given his combativeness that morning, Fawn turned away, gently rocking the baby, who finished the bottle in record time. Fawn lifted Bella to her shoulder, got the expected hearty burp and tucked the little one onto her hip while she continued wiping down the counters.
“You seem to have ample experience with infants,” Dixon commented after a few minutes.
The words flowed over Fawn in a series of tiny shocks, but she neither turned nor flinched.
“I started babysitting when I was eleven. Besides, Lenape women are raised to multitask.”
“I thought Lenape meant man.”
“Or people,” Fawn reminded him.
“In this case, it means the people,” Jackie put in. “The Delaware are a matriarchal society, you know. They produce very strong women.”
“That explains a lot,” Dixon commented drily.
Fawn could feel her blood pressure rising. She worked to tamp down her ire for several seconds before she could say, “I’m doing laundry today. Do you want me to do your laundry? Or am I not supposed to use your washer and dryer?”
Chair legs scraped on the tile floor. Not trusting herself to fully face him without completely losing her temper, she half turned, glancing over her shoulder, the baby cradled against her side. Dixon stood in front of his chair, poking the shopping list into his shirt pocket.
“Use whatever you like,” he retorted, heading for the mudroom, “but I do my own laundry.” The money, she saw, remained on the table. He turned in the doorway and looked at his mother. “I’ll be home early.”
Fawn shot a look at Jackie, who appeared to be hiding a smile behind a spoon.
“My boy growls,” she said as the outside door closed behind him, “but he always does the right thing in the end.”
Fawn said nothing to that. Truth required no comment, and if, in the end, Jackie’s faith in her son proved false, well then Fawn would do what was necessary.
* * *
Guilt had become Dixon’s constant companion. He felt guilty for resenting his mother, who was so obviously ill. He felt guilty for not telling his dad about her presence and for telling no one about his sister. Most of all, he felt guilty for enjoying so very much the benefits of having Fawn around. It irked him, in fact, that she was so easy to live with, so easy to like, so easy to talk to, not to mention easy on the eyes.
His dad maintained that not all women were as difficult to live with as his mother and grandmother, but Dixon’s experience proved otherwise. Every girl he’d ever dated had been more trouble than she was worth in the end, always yapping at him about something, never saying exactly what she meant, expecting him to decipher hidden meanings in everything. He’d about decided that he was going to stay single for the rest of his life, especially given the slim pickings in the War Bonnet area.
Fawn was a quiet one, tranquil somehow even when busy. He’d rattled her this morning, but he’d had to work at it, and if he was honest, he’d enjoyed himself. To a point. He liked having her in the house. It was nice not to come home to a cold, empty building, and he’d never eaten better.
The baby was no bother, either. His mother, on the other hand, was easy to ignore. Too easy. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure who was ignoring whom. Whenever he entered a room, Jackie seemed to shortly leave it. In some ways, it was almost as if she was neglecting him all over again. As contradictory as it seemed, even as he sought to avoid her, he resented that she seemed to avoid him.
Did you ever ask yourself why your mother did those things?
Fawn’s words just made the situation worse, and he spent too much time dwelling on it. He was half-mad with it by the time his father dropped by to check on his progress.
“How’s it going?”
Greg was a handsome man who had spent too much time in the sun, so he looked a little older than his forty-six years. His eyes were more blue than gray and his hair a little darker than Dixon’s, which made the silver stand out. He had thickened around the middle, but the nature of his work had given him a powerful physique. Though he stood only an inch or so taller than Dixon’s own six feet, he felt huge.
Dixon stopped staining the interior of the kitchen cabinets, set aside his implements and cleaned his hands on a rag. “Getting there. The exterior of these cabinets need
a second coat of sealant, though.”
“No problem. When you’re done with the inside, give the outside a light sanding, then spray everything with a final coat of high gloss.”
Dixon made a face. “A high gloss finish on the interior wouldn’t be my preference, but this should’ve been finished a long time ago, so I’ll do it your way. It’s just been one thing after another on this job. You’re probably even more frustrated than I am about it.”
Cuffing him lightly on the shoulder, Greg said, “Aw, we’ll get it done, son. Just gives us more time to spend together.”
Suddenly, Dixon couldn’t take it anymore. He was done keeping secrets from his father.
“Dad, I have to tell you something. About Jackie.”
Greg sobered. “What is it, Dix?”
“She’s here. At my house, I mean. And she has a baby.”
Greg’s jaw dropped. “A baby?”
Dixon tossed aside the rag. “I have a sister, just over four months old.” Greg clapped a hand over his mouth. “I know,” Dixon said. “Just when you think Jackie’s done it all, she comes up with a new one.”
Greg blinked, shrugged, shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s more. Jackie’s sick. I mean, seriously ill. Her heart, apparently.” Greg gasped. “And my stepfather is dead, killed in an accident on the highway.”
“Oh, Dixon.” Greg shook his head sorrowfully. “What are you going to do?”
Dixon ran both hands through his hair. “I don’t know. You remember what she was like before she married Harry. But there’s Bella Jo now, and Jackie’s...sick.” He couldn’t bring himself to say dying.
“How bad is she?” Greg asked, his face craggy with concern.
Dixon frowned. “Doesn’t look too good to me.”
Sighing deeply, Greg asked, “What about the baby?”
“Bella’s fine. She’s a cutie, dark hair and eyes. They say she looks like me.”
Greg smiled wanly. “Jackie must be happy about that. She always imagined a little girl who could wear her baby things.” His face clouded then. “Your grandmother got rid of those things when you were born. For her, one child was enough, and she was certain your mother would feel the same way. That or she just wanted to punish Jackie. So much of what your grandmother did felt like punishment because your mother had disappointed her.”
Dixon felt a chill. “Grandma was really that rough on Mom?”
“I hate to say it, son, but in many ways, your grandparents made things harder for her than they should’ve been. Still, Jackie refused to leave with me.”
“I...I didn’t realize.”
“Of course you didn’t. We all tried to keep you out of the middle, but it wasn’t easy. After I left, I worried what your grandma might be doing to Jackie.”
Dixon shook his head. “I knew they fought, but...” He’d always thought the conflict was his mother’s fault. After all, she was selfish and self-centered and...all the things Grandma had constantly labeled her.
“Don’t be too hard on Jackie, Dix,” his father said, as if reading his thoughts. “She did the best she could. We were young, and we made mistakes, but I’ll tell you something. She’ll always be my first love.”
Shocked, Dixon blurted, “I thought you were happy with Lucinda.”
Greg chuckled. “I’m very happy with Luci. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love your mom. In some ways, I’ll always love her. That’s how first love works. Those who are blessed enough to keep their first love for a lifetime are blessed indeed.”
Confused, Dixon could only nod. On one hand, it pleased him that his parents had loved each other. Somehow it made him feel...whole. On the other hand, the idea that his father might still care for his mother felt ominous. What if Jackie played on those feelings? What if she somehow messed up everything? Again. It seemed to him that the best thing he could do was keep his parents apart.
* * *
Fawn said nothing when Dixon again came to the breakfast table dressed for church. She was glad that he attended services regularly, but she could feel only discouragement and dismay when he again walked out without issuing any sort of invitation for anyone to join him. Perhaps she needed to make it clear that Jackie could accompany him if he was willing to give her a little aid. Instead, once more, Fawn and Jackie would have church at home.
After breakfast Fawn carried her laptop and her mother’s old Bible into the living room and set both on the coffee table so they could enjoy the fire and the Christmas tree. Holding hands, Jackie led the two of them in prayer, thanking God for His many blessings, praising Him for His goodness and asking for His protection for all their loved ones. Then Fawn logged on to a certain website and picked a favorite teacher, who specifically referenced Joseph’s reaction to Mary’s pregnancy. With Bella staring cross-eyed at the glow of the Christmas lights, Fawn played the teaching on the computer. She paused it periodically in order to discuss certain points with Jackie, who didn’t shy away from using her own personal experience to illustrate her arguments.
“The problem with allowing ourselves to be ruled by emotion,” Jackie said, “especially when that emotion is hurt, is that we react from desperation and the belief that we aren’t loved. When we choose to react in faith, we’re choosing to believe God loves us and to trust that He has our best interests at heart. One way is mindlessly careening through life. The other is calmly letting God lead.”
Fawn nodded, realizing that, for all the hurt of her parents’ deaths, she had never felt unloved. She could thank her grandmother, her twin and the good Lord for that. Jackie readily admitted that she had pushed away those who loved her, Greg and Dixon, in an effort to win back the love of those she had disappointed, her parents, only to wind up with neither. Harry had helped her see that she could truly find her self-worth in just one place, Christ Jesus.
Jackie had grown so much in her faith that she could see Harry’s death as a means of bringing her together with her son. Fawn wondered if Dixon would agree, but she doubted he would have given Jackie the time of day if Harry still lived and her health was not failing.
The question of Bella’s future remained unanswered. Surely he would soon realize that he was his sister’s rightful caretaker. The idea that he might not hurt Fawn’s heart. In fact, as much as she loved the baby and would gladly raise her, the idea of Dixon’s rejection of the child depressed Fawn deeply. For that reason, she eagerly agreed when Jackie moved to the upright piano and proposed they sing Christmas carols. What could be more fun?
Jackie’s playing was rusty and required a few minutes of practice before they could begin, but what they lacked in expertise, they made up for in enthusiasm. Fawn gave full reign to her husky, throaty alto—until she looked around and realized that Dixon stood behind her in the very center of the room.
“Sounds like I’m missing a good time,” he said, a slight smile curling his lips. Fawn quickly looked away, wishing the floor would open and swallow her. Then he said, “You have an amazing voice, Fawn. Where’d you learn to sing like that?”
She shot a glance at him, expecting to see a sarcastic expression despite the sincere tone. Instead, he seemed to mean it. Mumbling that the Lenape love to sing, she watched Dixon smile down at the baby sleeping in the carrier.
Saying that she needed to get lunch on the table, Fawn quickly turned away and hurried into the kitchen. On one level, she was pleased to see Dixon forming an attachment to the baby. That was exactly what needed to happen. Yet, she felt a definite heartache. Once she left here, she might never again see Jackie or Bella. Or Dixon. The thought broke her heart.
She was up to her elbows in fried chicken when Dixon came in wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He leaned a hip against the cabinet next to the stove and crossed his feet at the ankles, hanging the heels of his hands on the counter behind
him.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you earlier. I was just surprised to hear singing when I came in.”
“You don’t sing in church?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, your mother and I had church here this morning.”
“I see.” For a moment he said nothing more, then, “I should’ve invited you to come with me this morning.”
She didn’t let her surprise show. “Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not sure what’ll happen when my parents meet again.”
Caught off guard, she looked away from the frying pan, one hand gingerly grasping a freshly dipped chicken leg. “Oh.”
Dixon rubbed his head, sighed and admitted, “Dad knows about her and Bella, but...I have no idea how it’s going to go between them.”
“I know it’s awkward. How’d he take it?”
Frowning, Dixon rubbed his ear. “More calmly than I expected frankly.”
Bella squeaked from the other room. Fawn quickly but carefully laid the chicken leg in the frying pan and began wiping her hands, but then she realized that several pieces already needed turning and reached for the tongs.
“I’ll get her,” Dixon volunteered.
Before Fawn could think better of that plan, he walked out of the kitchen. She quickly took care of the chicken and started preparing a bottle, but the minutes dragged by before he reappeared, Bella cradled in his arms, her fist crammed into her mouth.
Fawn felt a certain amount of relief accompanied by a kind of warmth at seeing him there with the baby, but she said only, “Somebody’s hungry.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, grinning. “That chicken smells amazing.”
Flushing with the compliment, Fawn said, “I’ll have food on the table in a few minutes.”
“I know. Didn’t mean to rush you. I’ve just learned to appreciate your cooking. And everything else you do around here.”
