Love Comes Home (38 page)

“How about we build her a house?” Jay said. “We do owe her.”

“Do you know how to build a house, Tanner?”

“No, but I painted one once,” Jay said.

“You two are crazy. How can we build a house?” Kate said.

“First, we get everybody in Rosey Corner to help.” Lorena laughed. A good sound after all the tears.

Kate shook her head in mock despair at Lorena. But at the
same time her mind was racing, thinking about how it could be done. A little house on the edge of the woods. Maybe there was one they could move there piece by piece. Or they could fix up Aunt Hattie’s old house where she’d lived before she moved into Grandfather Merritt’s house. It was just over the hill from Lindell Woods. Aunt Hattie would like that.

It felt good to think about fixing something. And she did owe Fern.

Silence fell over them then as they headed home to Rosey Corner. A comfortable silence. A good silence. Lorena broke it by asking, “Did you really think I was a treasure?”

“Oh yes, the very best treasure I could have ever found on the church steps.” Kate leaned her head over to touch Lorena’s. “And that treasure’s name is Lorena Birdsong.”

36

C
lay needed to be plowing the cornfields. The weeds were about to get ahead of him. Plus he had to work up the the garden patch so his mother could plant beans and some more sweet corn. He didn’t have a day to give to working on a crazy old woman’s house

When he told his mother that, she gave him a hard look. “A man needs to tithe his time the same as his money. Reverend Winston laid that out for us in his sermon Sunday. A good sermon. You should have been there to hear it.”

“I guess I’m going to hear it now.” Clay didn’t quite hide his sigh and got another fierce frown from his mother as a result.

Clay hadn’t gone to church Sunday, instead claiming an ox in the ditch. He’d been almost glad when one of the cows hadn’t come up with the rest of the herd. He had to go make sure she wasn’t having trouble calving. They couldn’t afford to lose a cow. But hunting the cow could have waited until after church.

The truth was, he didn’t have the courage to go to church. He wasn’t afraid of hearing the gospel or the Lord speaking
to him. What he was afraid of at church were the people. Two people in particular. Victoria and Paulette.

He hated that Paulette was so angry at him. He couldn’t pretend to be in love with her to make that better, but he did like her. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. The day after Aunt Hattie’s funeral, he went to her house to tell her that and explain why it was better if they didn’t keep company anymore. She wouldn’t talk to him. Her father came to the door and sent him on his way with a few choice words.

All the way home, Clay had wondered what he might have said or done differently to keep everybody from thinking he’d led Paulette on. First off, not be so stupid as to keep loving Victoria when loving her was hopeless. That might be what he should have been praying while he tramped through the dew-heavy fields looking for that cow. But instead he’d prayed the Lord would open a new door for him to talk to Victoria, to convince her that even if she couldn’t love him, he could love her enough to make a happy life for her and her little girl.

Yet, he hadn’t gone to church where that chance to talk to Victoria might happen. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral. That day, he’d looked forward to seeing Victoria. Even if it was a funeral, he imagined her smiling at him, inviting him to at least be a friend again. He’d hoped she might decide to erase her words telling him to go away. Instead her eyes had landed on him when he walked in the church and skittered away like a sparrow startled by a hawk’s shadow.

The idea that Victoria might actually be frightened of him had been worse, way worse, than the angry words Paulette had slung at him. Had he been so pushy at the pond that she was afraid to look at him? He remembered how she’d felt in his arms when he caught her to keep her from falling. For
a moment, he’d felt her relax in his embrace. Perhaps he’d only dreamed that very brief moment, but real or imagined, he’d been dreaming about it ever since.

At the church, after she looked afraid of him, he hadn’t tried to get close to her. It was better to keep his distance and simply let his eyes feast on her, loving her from afar as he had for so many years. She’d told him to leave her alone. He would do what she wanted, no matter how much it hurt.

Besides, his heart was too sore to take another pummeling if she were to refuse to speak to him. It was better to stay out on the farm where he could put seed in the ground and pray the Lord would send rain and sun to make the crop grow. Where he could find the cow and be thankful for the calf on its feet suckling its first meal. Where things kept going, day in and day out, to keep him busy. Not too busy to think, but too busy to dwell on his sorrows. Too busy to worry every livelong minute about wishing for a way to talk to Victoria again.

But his mother said they had to go help fix up Aunt Hattie’s old house for Fern Lindell. She wouldn’t listen to his reasons he couldn’t go. She didn’t think Victoria being there would be a problem for Clay. Quite the contrary. She thought it an opportunity for him. She didn’t know about Victoria telling him to leave her alone. Even if she did, she wouldn’t think it the obstacle that his heart felt it was. She’d say Victoria couldn’t expect him to stay completely away from her. They lived in Rosey Corner. They had to see one another.

He had no doubt he’d see her at Aunt Hattie’s old house. The Merritts were the only family in Rosey Corner who had much truck with Fern. Her brother, Graham, was practically an uncle to Victoria, even if he wasn’t blood kin. Graham
was a little different, but he was nice enough. He’d tried to help Clay out with Victoria. It wasn’t Graham’s fault the fishing thing went sour.

But Fern didn’t care if anybody liked her. She appeared to enjoy keeping people on edge. While Clay had never been exactly afraid of the woman the way most of the kids back in school were, he did give her a wide berth. He couldn’t see reason one to spend a day fixing up an old house for her that had probably been home to raccoons for years.

The Fern he saw at church, sitting stiff and straight in the pew beside Aunt Hattie without paying any mind to those around her, probably didn’t even want these do-gooders to help her.

In no uncertain words, his mother let him know his thinking was all wrong when he told her that on Wednesday morning. “I would have never thought one of my own children would be so uncharitable.” Her voice carried a heavy load of disappointment at his words. “What’s come over you, Clay Weber? A person needs help here in Rose County, we give them help without toting up a tally sheet to see if they deserve it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clay said meekly. When his mother took that tone, he might as well gather up his tools and climb in the truck. Maybe the rain would hold off and the weeds wouldn’t get too tall for his plow. And he would just have to find a way to stay away from Victoria.

The whole family piled into the truck except Aaron, who’d gotten a job with the Edgeville electric company for the summer. The girls and Joseph crawled in the bed of the truck. Clay made the girls sit on the wooden toolbox up next to the cab and told Joseph to make sure they stayed there while
the truck was rolling. Willie cried to ride in the back too, but his mother made him sit in the cab with her. The boy pouted in the seat beside Clay, while their mother squeezed her feet in beside the basket holding a chocolate cake and ham sandwiches.

When they got there, the yard around the old house was already crawling with people. It was going to be a carnival. Men were sorting through lumber on a wagon up next to the house. Others were propping ladders up to the roof. Women were carrying brooms and mop buckets. The woman they were fixing the house for was nowhere in sight, but Clay spotted Victoria before he even turned off the key.

“There’s Victoria.” His mother looked over toward Clay before she opened the truck door. “Have you talked to her lately?”

“Not for a while.” Clay kept his voice flat. He didn’t know why he just didn’t tell his mother Victoria didn’t want him to talk to her. But then she’d want to know why and he wouldn’t have anything to tell her. He didn’t know why. Except that he was a country boy with nothing to offer her but love and a truck full of family obligations.

Tori saw Clay’s truck as soon as it pulled off the road. Mary and Lillie waved at Samantha, who wanted to run to them. Tori held her back, even though she had the strange desire to do the same. Just run to Clay like a carefree child and tell him she was wrong. She didn’t want him to go away. And how about they try fishing at Graham’s pond again?

But she wasn’t a carefree child. She was a widow who had desperately loved her husband. Who thought she’d be with
him until she died.
But he died first.
The words whispered through her head. A forever marriage took two people. Two living people.

She’d dreamed about Sammy again. The same dream where Sammy told her goodbye and walked away across Graham’s pond. When she woke up, moonlight was drifting in the window. She felt so very alone. But then Samantha stirred in her little trundle bed, and Tori reached down to lay her hand on the child’s back. Her life.

In her sleep, the little girl shifted away from Tori’s hand. She had turned three last Sunday. She was talking so much more, growing into her own person who was ready to explore the world on her own.

Now here in front of Aunt Hattie’s old house, Samantha jerked her hand loose from Tori and ran toward Clay’s little sisters, who were climbing over the tailgate of his truck. “Mary. Lil Lil.”

“Stop, Samantha!” Tori chased after her. Cars and trucks were pulling into the field to park.

Clay grabbed up the little girl. “Whoa, kiddo.”

She laughed and settled happily in Clay’s arms, as happy to see him as she was his sisters. Tori stopped in her tracks. She wanted to change what she’d said at Graham’s pond, but words deserted her.

Clay stopped too. There seemed to be a mile between them instead of only a few steps. Why did she feel so frozen?

“Hello, Victoria.”

“Clay.” Her throat felt tight. “Thank you.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded stiff.

His face stiffened to match her voice. “Sure.” He gave Samantha a hug and handed her off to Lillie, who was reaching
for her. Without another look toward Tori, he turned back to his truck.

Mary was right behind Lillie. Almost in unison, they said, “We’ll take care of her, Mrs. Harper. Please.”

Samantha echoed them. “Pwease.” Her freckles danced with eagerness.

“Okay. But you have to stay with Lillie and Mary here close to the house where I can see you. Do you understand, Samantha?”

“We won’t let her get around the road. We promise.” Lillie set Samantha down on the ground.

Tori watched them run off together and made herself not trail after them. She sighed. She wouldn’t be much help fixing up Fern’s place if all she did was follow Samantha around. Lillie was almost nine. Plenty old enough to watch Samantha.

She looked around. Cedars and brambles were pushing in on every side of the little house that backed up to the woods. Some of the men were already hacking at them, although it seemed a shame to clear away the blooming blackberry bushes. Fern wouldn’t mind the brambles anyway. She liked wild. She’d probably even like that tree growing up through the porch, but no way would it survive the men’s saws today.

They were like a swarm of bees on the property, finding places to fix. The house was in better shape than anyone had imagined. Jay and Kate had checked it out on Saturday after they came back from Cincinnati. They’d dropped Lorena off at the store to tell about finding her father. Her birth father.

“Kate says it’s okay to love two daddies,” Lorena had said at the end of her story.

The words echoed in Tori’s head now. Two daddies. Would that be the way it was someday for Samantha? Loving her
birth father through the stories they told her about Sammy. And loving another father. One who could swing her up in the air. One who could keep her safe and let her ride on his shoulders. Tori’s eyes went to Clay, on his knees hammering new boards into the porch floor.