Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma (15 page)

Carolina entered the room and untied her apron. “I was listening from the kitchen. Thought he was going to take you down a notch or two, but you got him in the end. Good for you.”

“Yes, good for you!” Josephine echoed.

Rena knelt in front of the youngster and took her hand. “Josephine, you realize that much of this trouble came about because you chose to fight with Calista, don’t you?”

“I didn’t want to fight with her, but she said mean things.” Josephine’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I used to have a mama and a papa just like her. And I lived in a big, fine house too. So she’s got no right to say those ugly things to me.”

Rena’s heart twisted. “Honey, even if you never lived in a fine house…even if you never knew your mama or papa…she still had no right to say ugly things to you. Ugly words are painful. The Bible says we are to guard our tongues.” Here Rena paused and gave Josephine’s hand a squeeze. “But the Bible also says that we’re to guard our temper. I want you to keep that in mind the next time she hurts your feelings. When she says something mean, you should turn the other cheek.”

“Calista’s the one who needs to turn the other cheek,” Henry said. “So Josephine can smack her on that side too!”

At this, several of the boys began to laugh. Wesley let out a snort, which tickled the girls. Before long, their giggles filled the room. At this point, Rena finally let down her guard and laughed with them. It felt good. Very good.

When the laughter died down, Oliver tugged on her sleeve. “Don’t let that old grouch get you down, Miss Rena. He was a kid once too, ya know.”

“Can’t imagine what sort of child he was,” Rena said.

“I can.” Carolina gave her a knowing look. “He was a bully just like Calista. A know-it-all bully who thrived on making others feel like the dirt under his heel.”

“Hmm.” Rena stared at Carolina as the realization hit. “You’re speaking from experience? You knew him as a child?”

“Knew him?” Carolina’s eyes widened. “I was terrified of him. All the boys and girls at the school were. And he only got worse as he aged.”

“Then however did he get elected mayor if folks were so scared of him?”

Carolina shrugged. “You know how it is. Folks vote for him because they’re scared not to. He’s been the mayor ’round here for as long as I can remember, and I daresay he’ll go on being the mayor until the Lord returns to sweep us all away.”

“I wish He’d sweep Mayor Albright away,” Henry said, rolling his eyes.

Rena sobered at these words. “Henry, we can’t talk like that. The mayor—crusty or not—is still one of God’s children, just as you are. And he’s probably got a story of his own.”

“What do you mean?” Wesley wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“I mean, his bullying ways are probably linked to something that happened when he was a boy.” Rena paused to think about her words. She would take what she had learned and use it as she disciplined Henry, Oliver, and the other boys. She didn’t want them to grow up to be mean-spirited or hateful like the mayor, even if they seemed a little devilish now.

Really, there was only one word that came to mind as she considered the outcome of the boys standing before her now: love. She would love the devil right out of them. And, by gum, she might just love it out of the mayor too.

Gene sat in the barber’s chair, a captive audience to Joe’s chatter.

Joe swished the blade this way and that across Gene’s cheeks before wiping off the shaving cream. “You saw what that newspaper fellow’s done now, didn’t you?”

“What’s that?” Gene asked.

“Happened just this morning.” Joe took a warm cloth and laid it across Gene’s face. “He posted an article in the
Atoka County Register
about child-rearin’.”

“I read it too,” his deputy, Charlie, added from the chair next to Gene’s. “He said that if we work together, we can get the situation with the children under control.”

“Interesting.” Gene spoke from underneath the cloth on his face.

“As if anyone could get those unruly children under control.” Old Man Tucker snorted.

“You’ll love this part,” Joe added. “He encouraged citizens to write to the paper and offer suggestions for how to handle unruly young’uns. Said if we came up with workable ideas, he would post them, one a day. What do you think of that?”

This certainly piqued Gene’s attention. He pulled off the cloth and sat up. “I think I’m ready to read that article. Do you have a copy of the paper on hand?”

“I do.” Joe reached behind the counter and pulled out the newspaper, which he passed to Gene.

“First page, far right column,” Charlie said.

Gene skimmed the page until he found the article in question. He folded back the page and read the piece quickly. Sure enough, Jonathan Brewer had come out swinging for the orphanage. He’d crafted a well-written article in defense of the children and encouraged residents of Daisy and nearby towns to link arms to make the situation better.

“Listen to this.” Gene read aloud, “‘If the residents of Daisy work together, if we’re all on the same team, we can turn around this situation. But we have to link arms. If even one person won’t join in, this won’t work. The children need to see a solid front. We can give it to them, if we try.’” Gene looked up from the paper and nodded. “Well, this is great. I knew he was talking about some sort of plan to counteract Molly’s ‘Fresh as a Daisy’ campaign. Guess this is it.”

“Yes, but child-rearing tips?” Old Man Tucker asked. “We’re supposed to turn it around by offering up tips for raising children? How will that fix anything?”

“I suppose if we’re focused on what we can do to help the children, we won’t have time left over to be angry at them,” Charlie said. “Guess that’s the idea.”

“I guess.” Joe grew silent as he cleaned out Gene’s shaving mug. When he finished, he looked Gene’s way with a sheepish expression on his face. “Look, Gene…you know I’m not really angry with the children, right? I just got a little riled up when they damaged my property. Truth is…” He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Truth is, I just don’t know how to stop Molly when she comes around ranting and raving about the children. She’s one determined woman.”

“That she is,” Gene said. “No question about that.”

“She’s a fireball. And even though I’ve tried to throw water on her, she still keeps blazing.”

“I’ve thrown a few buckets of water that way myself,” Gene said. “But she’s hotter than an egg frying on the sidewalk in August.”

“Why do you suppose she’s so bent on closing down the orphanage?”

“Not sure,” Gene said. “I’ve often wondered.”

“I knew her as a girl,” Old Man Tucker said. “She was a right nice little thing till her ma and pa adopted that baby sister of hers. I always figured she was jealous of the attention little Prudence got. Probably didn’t help that Prudence was really pretty. Molly was always a bit on the plain side, ya know.”

Gene didn’t know, but it all made sense. It would appear that Molly carried a grudge, one going all the way back to her childhood. That explained a lot.

Old Man Tucker kept on talking about what a looker Prudence had turned out to be, but Gene’s thoughts shifted to the article in the paper. He skimmed the words once again and a renewed sense of hope kicked in. With everyone working together, maybe they really could turn things around for the town of Daisy. One could hope, anyway.

He said his good-byes and headed back to the jail, anxious to get to work. He’d no sooner stepped inside than his mother appeared, all smiles.

“How’s your day going, son?”

“Fine. Yours?”

“Wonderful. Guess you’ve heard what’s stirring with Jonathan Brewer.”

“Yes.”

“He’s a peach, isn’t he?”

“Well, I don’t know that I would call him that.”

“I do believe he’s got his eye on Rena. Should be interesting to watch. Oh, and speaking of Miss Jewel, she’s invited us to Thanksgiving dinner. We’re to bring the cranberry dressing and a couple of pies. I told her that you like to bake.”

“I like to bake?”

“Well, now, don’t fret.” His mother gave him a wink. “I’ll teach you. You’ve always liked my pecan pie. It’s about time you learned how to make one yourself.”

“Wait.” He shook his head and tried to make sense of things. “In the last two minutes you’ve informed me that Jonathan has his eye on Miss Jewel, we’re having Thanksgiving dinner at the children’s home, and I’m baking a pie. And somehow the common denominator in all these stories is Rena Jewel. Is that right?”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head, son. She is, indeed, the common denominator.” His mother winked. “Couldn’t have put it any better myself.” She paused. “So, what do you say?”

“To the dinner or the pie?”

“Both.”

“Yes to the dinner, no to the pie.” He released a breath and thought it through. “Or, rather, a maybe to the pie. But I still don’t know why I’m making it and not you. I have my hands full with the boys.”

“They can help you.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, there’s a lovely idea! The boys can help you. That way you can all tell Rena that you made it together. She will see how much your boys look up to you.”

“Why should I care how she perceives my relationship with the boys?”

His mother gave him a sheepish look then cast her gaze to the floor. “Oh, I…well, I was just thinking it would be inspirational to her, now that she’s caring for so many youngsters herself.”

“Mm-hmm.” He shook his head then took his mother by the shoulders, gazing directly into her eyes. “Mother, no matchmaking.”

“Matchmaking?” She feigned innocence. “You offend me at the deepest level. I would never stoop to—”

“And another thing.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve never been any good at baking. Remember that cake you helped me with when I was a kid? I almost burned the kitchen down.”

“Well, yes. But that was years ago. Surely you have improved. Most things do get better with time, you know.” She gave him a wink. “Look at me. I’m turning sixty-seven this spring and I feel like I’m in my prime.”

He reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

“Forty?” She smirked. “You meant thirty, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “Yes, Mama. Thirty. And yes to the pie. I’ll bake whatever you like, but I can’t do it by myself.”

“Son, there are a great many things menfolk could learn from women. But I have a feeling you’re a ready learner. Stick close and you’ll learn a thing or two from this wise old sage.”

He gave her a curious look, wondering what she had up her sleeve. They weren’t talking about pies anymore, were they? No, judging from the crooked grin on his mother’s face, she’d shifted the conversation entirely. Where she was headed with it, he could not say.

T
IPS FOR
D
EALING WITH
U
NRULY
Y
OUNG
’
UNS
—
Miss Rena said I should write this here note to the fella at the paper, so here goes. My name is Tree but folks ’round here call me by all sorts of other names, some I can’t say out loud fer fear Miss Rena’ll stick a bar of soap in my mouth to teach me a lesson. I don’t really mind so much. Me ’n the boys like to pull a few pranks, sure. That’s what we’re known for. I don’t reckon I’ve got any tips for raisin’ young’uns, ’cept if yer a parent, it’s better to stick around instead of droppin’ yer kids off at an orphanage and tellin’ ’em you’ll be back to fetch ’em shortly…’specially if you never plan to come back at all.

—Tree

Over the next three weeks, Rena did everything in her power to keep the peace, both inside the walls of the children’s home and out. She skillfully avoided both the mayor and Molly Harris, though the children’s antics nearly drew their interest on more than one occasion. A handful of folks in town rallied around the children. Many turned in child-rearing tips to Jonathan, who posted them, along with several positive articles about famous grown-ups who’d once been intolerable children. He seemed to have won over Joe, the barber, who was now more approachable.

And speaking of winning folks over, she’d spent plenty of time with the sheriff. In spite of the mayor’s warnings, she found him to be a fun-loving man and a good father. Sure, he still had a lot to learn, but so did she. Perhaps—she often smiled as she thought about it—they could learn together.