Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) (4 page)

Momentarily caught off guard,
Christie blurted, "Your kitchen table is big enough for a small dinner
party."

"I like having friends over.
I’ll be right back." Garrett disappeared through the doorway to the pantry
and Christie placed her bag out of the way against one wall. He reappeared
moments later with a washcloth and proceeded to open a large upright freezer.

"Here," he said, handing
her the washcloth with ice. "Put this on your forehead."

"Probably a smart move,"
she agreed, taking the cloth and ice. In truth, she had developed a slight
headache.

"Sit." He indicated the
table behind her.

She pulled out a heavy wooden
chair and sat down.

He removed his hat and ran a hand
through dark blond hair. It had been combed back from his forehead in a smooth
wave, but the hat had flattened it and now his fingers caused further
disruption and several strands fell across his forehead.

"Garrett!" A woman
called out from somewhere beyond the kitchen. "I hope you’re washed up for
dinner. I’m almost ready to serve."

The woman who entered the kitchen
wore an old-fashioned blue calico dress down over her knees with a pristine
white apron in place. She was tall and somewhere in her sixties with tightly
curled iron gray hair. Bemused, Christie stared at the running shoes on the
woman’s feet. When she spotted Christie she stopped short, tossing Garrett what
looked like an accusing glance. She picked up a wooden spoon from a spoon rest
on the counter and waved it in the air. "You didn’t mention you had a
guest," she said tartly.

Christie found herself being
scrutinized from head to toe. For a moment she wondered if she passed muster,
then straightened her shoulders. She was here to work in the barns and get to
know Hannah, not worry if the cook/housekeeper found her appearance acceptable.

"And what have you done to
her!" The older woman hurried across the kitchen and without ceremony
tilted Christie’s chin up and moved the washcloth aside.

Warily, Christie watched the spoon
waving in front of her eyes. "Just a bump," she murmured, discomfited
by the attention. "I’ve had worse."

"This is Christie,"
Garrett said. "She’s going to be working here temporarily. Christie, meet
Ruth, my housekeeper." Garrett lifted a brow. "You’d better put that
spoon down before Christie thinks you’re going to smack her."

"Hmmph," Ruth said.

Christie didn’t know anyone could
actually make that sound into a word, but coming from Ruth, it definitely
sounded like a statement.

Ruth put the spoon down and with
her hands on her hips stared at Garrett. "I knew when I saw Hannah that something
was up. You’d better tell me what’s happened."

Garrett ran a hand around the back
of his neck. "Hannah was playing out by the road when one of the boys was
coming down the drive with the hay truck. Christie got her out of harm’s way
but hit her head in the process."

Ruth nodded. "Hannah tried to
escape into her room, but I chased her down. She wouldn’t tell me anything, but
she did show me a scratch on her finger," Ruth added. "We put
antibiotic on it."

"To make matters worse, Les
Doyle showed up."

Ruth reached into an apron pocket
and pulled out a pair of glasses. She perched them on the end of her nose and
peered at Christie’s forehead. "You have to be careful with bumps on the
head." She looked directly into Christie’s eyes. "Are you feeling dizzy
at all? Nauseous?"

"No, just a slight
headache."

"A headache?" Garrett
jumped in. "You didn’t mention your head hurt."

Ruth tsk-tsked. "Of course it
hurts, look at the size of that egg." She touched the tender area around
Christie’s eyebrow gently. "We’ll keep a watch over it, though I think
with all the worry about head injuries, she should probably go to the
hospital." She straightened. "And what’s this about Les?"

"He came for Kim’s check.
He’d been drinking," Garrett said, an edge to his voice.

"If he’d spend as much effort
looking for a job and keeping it, that man would make out a lot better,"
Ruth remarked. "I don’t know what Kim was thinking, marrying up with
him." Christie saw the sharp look Garrett gave Ruth. "Enough of that,"
Ruth said briskly. "Right now you two need to get cleaned up and I’ll
serve dinner. I’ll never hear the end of it if it’s cold."

"I wouldn’t dare complain
about anything you serve," Garrett said, grinning.

Christie relaxed. Ruth, for all
her gruff manner, reminded her of her own aunt Rose. She wondered if beneath
that starched apron beat a big heart. Aunt Rose had been tough, but she’d loved
her and her sister Ellen when no one else had cared. Ellen. Christie bit her
lip. Two sisters gone. At least she and Ellen had had Aunt Rose. Judith hadn’t
had anyone.

"Thank you," Christie
rushed into speech, "I’m just putting ice on this then I’ll go over to the
cabin."

Ruth turned to her, then glared at
Garrett. "She’s staying in that dusty cabin -- without dinner?"

Garrett looked at Ruth, but the
older woman had turned her back to him, her shoulders stiff.

"There’s nothing wrong with
the cabin," he said mildly.

Ruth turned, brows raised.
"Who stayed in there two nights ago?"

"The boys."

"Exactly, and I haven’t had a
chance to get in there to clean it up yet. I had other matters pressing for my
attention. You know what those young men left it looking like last time."

Christie saw Garrett’s grimace.
Hurriedly, she said, "I don’t mind a little dust and I don’t need anything
special."

"You can’t stay in the
cabin," Ruth was adamant. "Sink’s over there if you’d like to clean
up."

Christie hesitated and looked at
Garrett. "I’m sure you’ll appreciate the chance to wash up first,"
she said.

"Garrett, set an extra place
for Christie."

Christie thought Garrett might be
angry at the housekeeper’s highhanded ways, but he seemed to give a
philosophical shrug.

"I must say you look like you
could do with a few square meals," Ruth added. "You’re a bit on the
skinny side." Ruth turned away and began to remove pot covers from pans.
Christie grimaced. Ruth obviously said whatever was on her mind.

"Don’t take Ruth
seriously." Christie felt the brush of Garrett’s glance. "She likes
fattening everyone up."

Christie stared at Garrett’s flat
stomach. There was nothing fat about him.

"I serve nutritious meals,
Garrett McIntyre," Ruth snapped. "A man needs good food after a hard
day’s work."

"You won’t get an argument
from me. You’re the best cook this side of the Mississippi."

Christie glimpsed the pleased smile
on Ruth’s face.

"Ruth, where is Hannah?"
he asked, drying his hands on a towel. He moved aside from the sink so Christie
left the table and joined him.

"While we were patching up
her finger your brother rang. He’d called earlier saying he might stop in, but
the second call he said he wasn’t making it after all, there was a burglary in
town he had to check out." Ruth lifted her brows. "After I told
Hannah Randy wasn’t coming, she ran out of here like a two-minute twister.
Right now she’s playing one of those video things in her room."

"I’ll be right back."
Garrett dropped the towel on the counter, his mouth in a straight line.

Christie chewed her lip, watching
him stride from the kitchen and through the archway. She kept listening as she
washed her hands and face, but she didn’t hear any noise coming from the other
part of the house. Recalling the grim look on his face, she couldn’t help but
wonder how he’d discipline his daughter. Christie stared at the wall in front
of her, thinking of her father’s idea of discipline, and for a moment the old
queasiness hit her. She gripped the steel sink, the mess of her own childhood
rearing up before her.

"You got any family?"
Ruth asked.

Surprised by such a personal
question and recalling Garrett’s wish to keep her identity quiet, Christie
said, "My nephew." She thought of the last time she’d seen Eric.
"He’s five. He had a birthday last week." She’d missed it, although
she had put a card in the mail for him. "I, uh, haven’t seen him in a while."

Ruth nodded. "My Mama always
used to say when you’ve got nothing else, there’s always family."

Christie hadn’t seen Eric since
her brother-in-law Darrell took him almost a month ago, the day after the court
awarded him custody. Eric had cried, but she’d closed herself off from his
pain, the want and need in his face. She’d promised him that she’d return, but
that he needed to be with his father now. At the time she’d been sure it was
the right thing to do and she had walked away. After Ellen’s death she’d
thought she would raise her nephew, but his father’s reappearance had changed
all that. Emotion bit at her and she drew air into her lungs, slowly and
carefully. Reaching blindly forward, she placed the bar of soap on the sink and
turned off the water. Eric and Hannah were first cousins.

"I imagine you’ll have the
cleanest hands at the table," Ruth remarked dryly.

Christie turned. "I was
pretty dusty." She ran the damp paper towel over her face and neck.
"I guess that will do for now." She looked toward the empty doorway.
"Um, what do you think is taking them so long?"

Ruth didn’t answer, but ladled
gravy over the roast. When she picked up oven mitts, Christie moved closer and
lifted the roasting pan for her.

"On the table," Ruth
said. "Take a seat, they’ll be along shortly. So Hannah wasn’t paying
attention to the road again? I gathered as much from the little I got out of
her."

Christie thought that sounded
rather ominous. "She ran after her kitten just as a truck came down the
driveway. The driver had all he could do to avoid her. It scared all of us
pretty bad."

Ruth’s expression softened and she
put a hand to her breast. "Poor child and Garrett too." She shook her
head. "She’s got her father at wit’s end. Last week she let Randy’s
pigeons out, the week before it was the chickens. She just wanted to
play."

Christie licked her lips and took
a seat. She wondered what kind of mother Judith had been and felt frustrated
that she couldn’t ask. If Garrett found her asking too many questions before he
validated her information. . ..

She looked across the kitchen.
What was keeping them?

"We may as well get
started." Ruth began filling plates and Christie was left to speculate.

Garrett and his daughter appeared
in the kitchen a moment later. Christie’s shoulder muscles relaxed when she saw
the way the child clung to her father’s hand. Hannah cheeks glowed pink and it
was obvious she’d just had her face washed. Hannah’s gaze met hers across the
room and she stopped dead. "You’re eating with us?" she asked, the
corners of her mouth drooping in obvious disappointment. She gave Christie an
angry glare. "Uncle Randy was supposed to eat with us."

"Hannah," Garrett’s
voice held a warning. "Uncle Randy called and said he had to go back on
duty. It had nothing to do with Christie being here." With a hand at her
shoulder he urged her forward.

"Sorry," she mumbled,
eyebrows drawn together. She slid into the seat across from Christie.
Reluctantly, it seemed, she continued, "Thank you for helping me on the
driveway. Daddy said the truck could have hit me."

"I’m glad you’re okay,"
Christie said simply, studying this beautiful child who was her niece.

Hannah twisted around in her seat
to stare at her father as he stood behind her. The look they exchanged made
Christie realize the words had probably been his idea.

"Christie’s going to work
here until Kim is able to come back," Garrett said. "We’re also going
to make sure she doesn’t have a problem with the bump on her head."

Christie noticed the slight
tremble of the little girl’s shoulders and was filled with compassion. She kept
her voice matter of fact. "I can tell you I’ve had much bigger bruises
than this little thing."

Hannah watched her warily but made
no comment and Christie wondered at the resentment emanating from the child.
Had the child decided to dislike her because of the kitten that had gotten
away?

Garrett sat beside Christie and
Ruth beside Hannah, and the meal began.

As they ate Christie let herself
absorb the mellow atmosphere of the kitchen. The table could have held ten
people easily, and it sat in a glass enclosed breakfast nook. Christie imagined
Garrett sitting here in the morning with his coffee as he looked out over his
property. The windows offered a generous view of lush, green meadows and white
painted barns. How very lucky he must feel to live in such a beautiful place
and to have a healthy child with whom to share it. Poor Judith, to have lost
all this.

In the middle of the table was a
slender, paper-thin crystal vase with yellow roses. The outer lips of the
petals were tinged with red. Christie leaned forward to breathe in their
delicate scent. "Breathtaking, I’ve never seen roses quite that
color."

"They’re Ruth’s secret
weapon," Garrett said, passing her a bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes.
"They’ve never taken less than a blue ribbon at the state fair."

"I can understand why."

Throughout dinner Hannah’s earlier
frowns were gradually replaced by small bursts of chatter. Christie was amused
and touched by the way Garrett patiently answered each of his daughter’s
questions. Christie envied Hannah the opportunity to grow up in a household
with such a devoted parent. Her own childhood had been different. . .it would
be a stretch to call it a "family life." More often there had been
discord than harmony and she rarely recalled her entire family sitting down to
an entire meal uninterrupted. Fighting. . .why couldn’t she remember the good
times?