Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma (2 page)

His mother leaned forward and whispered, “You do know they were swimming nude at Old Man Tucker’s pond yesterday, don’t you? Naked as jaybirds, all of them.”

“Not a criminal offense,” Gene said. “And why are we whispering?”

“Don’t want folks to hear. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Boys swimming without clothes?” He laughed. “Mother, you worry too much about what others think. You always have.”

Carolina Wyatt had never been one to give up on an argument easily and she didn’t this time, either. Instead, she flinched but then lit right back into the conversation. “True. But the way those boys run willy-nilly from here to there with no adult supervision, it’s a wonder they don’t get hurt. They tied a rope to that big tree in my front yard last Saturday, and William nearly hung himself with it. Scared me to death.”

Gene shrugged it off. “They told me. But nothing came of it except a scraped knee when he fell. And if it makes you feel any better, he was fully dressed when the incident occurred. If you’d stopped by to report that he was climbing trees in his birthday suit, I’d be a little more concerned. As it is, he’s fine.”

A half smile crept across his mother’s face. “Yes, he’s fine; that’s true.” She took a seat in the chair opposite his desk. “But not everyone in town is fine with the children’s actions. You heard what the boys did to Mrs. Wabash, didn’t you?”

“What this time?” He looked her way, waiting for the inevitable story to unfold.

His mother leaned forward and placed her hands on his desk. “They snuck into her wardrobe and stole her unmentionables. Then they ran them up the flagpole in the square just this morning, along with a notice that the things belonged to her.”

Gene stifled a chuckle as he forced the image of the orphanage’s soon-to-be-leaving director out of his mind. “Oh, is that all?”

“Is that all?” His mother’s cheeks flushed pink. “Clearly you know nothing about women, or you would understand the humiliation in that story. Mrs. Wabash feels she can’t show her face in town. Not that she’s planning on staying in town much longer, of course.”

“I shouldn’t think it would be her
face
she’d be afraid of showing.” He couldn’t help the laugh that followed.

His mother leaned back in the chair, the wrinkles around her eyes growing deeper as she gazed his way. “Honestly, you’re as bad as the children.”

At this, Gene sobered a bit. “I’m not excusing their behavior,” he said. “But let’s face it. Running Mrs. Wabash’s unmentionables up the flagpole is hardly the equivalent of burning down the orphanage. And as for her leaving town, I can’t say I’m altogether sorry. She’s never cared much for the children, from what I can see. The director of an orphanage should at least pretend to care for the children she’s supervising, don’t you think?”

“Of course. But don’t be so quick to judge her, Gene. You don’t know what she’s thinking or feeling. Besides, she gave more than a year of her life to those boys and girls and feels she’s done her part.”

“I suppose.”

“And as for how she’s feeling about the children, please keep in mind that they’ve tormented her almost from the beginning. That flagpole stunt wasn’t their only injustice against her. The boys put a dead possum behind the heating grate in her room. From what I’ve been told, the stench was unbearable.”

“Boys will be boys.” He found himself ready to be done with this conversation.

“Yes, they will.” His mother crossed her arms and gave him a pensive look. “I raised one myself. And he turned out pretty well, if you don’t mind my saying so, so I feel confident I can speak on this subject with some authority.”

“Well, of course.” Gene squared his shoulders and prepared himself for another challenging conversation.

Her gaze narrowed. “Look, son, I know you feel caught in the middle where William and Jacob are concerned, but, in case you don’t realize it, you always give the same excuse when the children act up.”

“I do?” He looked her way, confused by her words.

“Yes. And it’s true that boys will be boys, but there’s a time and a place for boyish shenanigans. And you might remember how you got quite a few spankings when your pranks went awry. Your boys and their friends need good, honest discipline.”

“I’m doing my best with William and Jacob. But without Brenda…” He pushed back the lump in his throat and shook his head. If anyone could understand this, it would be his mother. She’d walked this road with him. Knew how desperately he and the boys missed Brenda—her tenderness, her laughter, and her indomitable spirit. Every dream they had ever shared was swept away in that awful tornado. Now he was left alone to piece things back together, whether he felt like it or not.

“I know, son.” His mother drew near and gave him a pat on the arm. “I don’t mean to scold. Really. I’m just trying to offer a bit of helpful advice.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They just wear me out, that’s all. Wait until you hear what William did this morning.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Carried a mess of catfish into my house and asked me to clean them.”

“I haven’t had fried catfish in ages. Sounds good.”

“Yes, well, he dragged in the stench of worms and mud all over my freshly mopped floor. But here’s the kicker. He caught those fish in Old Man Tucker’s pond. The poor old fella chased him off his property and all the way to my front door. I’ve never seen anyone so angry.”

“Mother, boys will be—” Gene stopped himself from finishing it.

“The more time William and Jacob spend with their old friends, the more likely they’ll end up in trouble. They need a woman in their lives to teach them right from wrong.”

“They have you. You’re the best grandmother in town.”

She grunted. “Maybe. But even the best grandmother in town can’t handle seventeen orphans and your two boys by herself. Once Mrs. Wabash leaves, those children will need someone who’s still young enough—and hardy enough—to tackle the challenges they present. I’m old, and I’m tired. I don’t have it in me to stay on top of their every move.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“No, I’m not. They’re faster than I am. You should’ve seen me following along behind Old Man Tucker as he chased William across the yard. Poor old fella was only dressed in his skivvies. Apparently they caught him unawares.”

“I understand, Mother.” He did, of course. But what could he do about it? Every attempt had already been made, every avenue exhausted. And speaking of exhausted, wasn’t that the real issue here? He’d worn himself out trying to fix children who didn’t care to be fixed. They simply wanted to be children. Rowdy, undisciplined children.

His mother offered a sympathetic look. “If you ask my opinion—and I know you didn’t, but I’m offering it anyway—William and Jacob need a bit of separation from their friends at the orphanage. Not all the time, mind you, but occasionally. Promise me you’ll pray about it. The Lord will guide you, I’ve no doubt.”

Gene laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back, nearly ready to admit defeat. “I know they’re a handful, but they’re good boys at heart…in spite of their antics. It’s only been two and a half years since Brenda and I took them into our home. They still consider those other children at the orphanage their real brothers and sisters. And now that they’ve lost the only mother they’ve ever known…”

“I know, son.”

“At any rate, it’s obvious we need help.” Gene raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve written to the head of the missions organization, in the hopes that he can send someone. If we have to shut down the orphanage, the children will be sent elsewhere. You know what that means—they’ll
all
be separated. Brothers and sisters will be torn apart. Can you imagine what that will do to them?” The very idea made him feel ill.

“I don’t think that will happen. I’ve taken the liberty of writing my best friend, Marla, in South Carolina. Do you remember her?”

“Of course.”

“Her daughter, Janelle, is thirty-four and widowed. She has a young daughter about William’s age. I think she would be the perfect choice.”

Gene’s spirits lifted at once. “Wait. Are you saying that she’s agreed to take on the orphanage? We won’t need someone from the missions society after all?” His heart felt lighter.
What wonderful news. This will solve everything.

His mother shook her head. “She’s not free to come until early May. Until then, we need a plan. A solid plan. Otherwise, I’m afraid the orphanage will come under the scrutiny of you-know-who.” She waggled her brows.

Gene knew, all right. Mayor Albright had been intent on tearing down the orphanage from the beginning, garnering most of his information from Molly Harris. Gene wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let that happen. He’d grown to love those children—every last rowdy one of them. And he’d be hanged before he saw them separated or farmed out to unwilling families.

In the meantime, it looked as if he had a lot of praying to do.

T
IPS FOR
D
EALING WITH
U
NRULY
Y
OUNG
’
UNS
—
Children need to be loved and nurtured. They’re looking for direction, of course, and discipline. But most of all, they’re longing for someone to take an interest in them—to care about the things that matter to them. They need someone who will kneel to their level and offer encouragement, particularly when things get rough. We don’t all have the luxury of a great upbringing. Some children face unique challenges. With those, we need to be more kindhearted than ever. Most children are starving for affection. A little goes a long, long way, especially with those who need it most.

—Rena Jewel, of the Gulfport Mississippi Jewels

Gulfport, Mississippi, Jewel Villa

Rena pushed aside the feelings of jealousy that threatened to overtake her as she eyed the vase of gerbera daisies on the foyer table. For a moment, she contemplated snatching one of the brightly colored flowers and slipping up the stairs to her room. With her brother and sister-in-law out of town, no one would be any the wiser.

Yes, she could bury the beautiful daisy between the pages of her half-written novel and pretend the handsome hero in her story had plucked it from the garden just for her. Better yet, she could imagine that she carried a whole cluster of daisies as she made her way up the aisle toward her husband-to-be. That would make for a lovely tale.

She began to sing, “‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do’” and then smiled as her imagination carried her away to a happy place. After the possibility played itself out, she gave herself a good scolding. What purpose would it serve to steal one of her sister-in-law’s flowers, anyway? Virginia might not know that a flower had disappeared from the bunch, but the Lord would. Besides, the daisy would soon wilt, then serving only as a limp reminder of all Rena did not have—all she would never have.

Yes, she might as well face the facts. Women with no prospects did not receive bouquets of freshly cut daisies from would-be beaus. They didn’t get invited to dances, and they certainly didn’t receive proposals of marriage. Instead, they created Adonis-like characters in books, giving them broad shoulders, winsome smiles, and elegant good looks. In other words, they lived in an imaginary world to soften the blows of the real one.

A familiar heaviness wrapped around Rena and she gave herself over to the blues. Moments later, she realized she was still staring at the colorful flowers and humming the same little melody. The song faded and she did her best to shake off her reverie, determined not to let discouragement get her down.

The housekeeper passed by on her way toward the stairs, her arms loaded with folded sheets. “Everything all right, Miss Rena?” Katy shifted her position to keep the pile from tumbling.

Rena managed a lame nod then pivoted on her heel, turning away from the daisies on the table. “Yes. Fine. Thank you.” As she made her way through the villa’s grand foyer, she tried to think of something she could do to occupy her time. She could always knit, of course. Reuben would approve of that idea, no doubt. Her older brother had been after her for weeks to finish up the hats and scarves for the Missions Society Christmas benefit, still months away. But with the temperatures outside blazing in the nineties this humid September afternoon, knitting seemed a bit ridiculous. Besides, she didn’t feel like it. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing much of anything these days.

Rena paused at the large mirror in the front hallway and fussed with her hair. Once again, the heat and humidity had wreaked havoc with it. Loose brown tendrils draped her neck, turning into moist curls. Not that she really minded. Who would notice, anyway? With Virginia and Reuben escorting their daughter off to college in New York, the ornate Gulfport mansion seemed hollow and empty. Glittering chandeliers hung over empty dining tables. Hallways once filled with the sound of laughter now held only framed photographs to capture the memories. Beautiful furnishings, most imported from Europe, sat empty.

Pushing aside the lump in her throat, she thought about her niece’s departure to Vassar. Though Rena would miss her terribly, there was no point in crying about it. Sadie had the whole world in front of her, didn’t she? And wasn’t she the luckiest girl in all of Gulfport, to be accepted at Vassar? Everyone agreed. Yes, Rena should be celebrating her niece’s good fortune, not mourning it.