The Hand-Me-Down Family (18 page)

J
ack held her as she cried, feeling the tears dampen his shirt, feeling the sobs well from deep inside her.

Had something happened in town today?

Had he done something to upset her without even realizing it?

Or was she beginning to realize she wasn't cut out for this kind of life?

Whatever it was, it seemed to be tearing her up.

And this gut-wrenching weeping was killing him. He had to do something—anything—to comfort her. He found himself whispering soothing nonsense to her, stroking her hair, rocking her in his arms.

Anything to bring her misery to an end. No one deserved to be this unhappy.

Finally, with one last shuddering gasp, she stilled. He continued to hold her, letting her rest. He liked the feel of her in his arms, the trusting way she clung to him, the way her unbound hair tickled his chin.

Mostly, he liked the feeling that she needed him, felt safe with him.

They stayed that way for another long minute, the beating of their hearts the only sounds besides nature's chorus.

At last she gave a little sigh and gently pulled out of his embrace. “I'm sorry.” Her gaze didn't meet his. Instead she raised a not quite steady hand and touched his shoulder where her head had rested. “I've gotten your shirt all wet.”

“It'll dry.” He titled her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“It's nothing.”

He leaned back on his heels. “It takes a mighty powerful nothing to have an effect like that.”

She waved a hand. “I was just feeling a bit sorry for myself, is all.”

“Why?” He stood and pulled a bandanna from his pocket, moving toward the stream, giving her a chance to compose herself.

“I don't know.” Her voice was husky from all of that crying. “I suppose, with everything that's happened, I hadn't really taken the time to mourn Lanny's passing.”

The little kick of jealousy Jack felt was unexpectedly sharp. But he was sure there was something else eating at her.

He squeezed the water out of the bandanna and returned to her side, stooping down next to her again.

She reached for the bit of cloth but he began to wipe her face himself. “Are you sure that's all it is?” he asked.

The flair of guilt in her face was all the answer he needed.

“I was expecting a letter from my father to arrive today,” she added, twisting her hands in her lap.

Homesickness then?

She tried to turn the blemished side of her face away, but he had her chin cupped in his hand and he refused to let her. “You realize you only just sent off your own letter a few days ago,” he reasoned. “Give him time. I'm sure he'll respond.”

She gave a little half smile then. “It's not a response to my letter I was looking for.”

He paused in his ministrations, lifting a brow. “Then what?”

She sighed. “This is going to sound foolish, I know. But today is my birthday.”

That set him back. He hadn't marked his own for quite some time, but he knew occasions like that were important to women. “I'm sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I didn't—”

She touched a finger to his lips. “Don't be silly. I didn't expect anyone here to even know, much less make a fuss. I just expected the few folks in the world who did know to mark it somehow.”

She pulled her hand away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, it was quite selfish of me to feel that way since my family celebrated the occasion in advance, before I left Ohio.” She gave him an overly bright smile. “As I said, I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

Jack could still feel the gentle touch of her finger on his lips, could see the vulnerability behind her smile, could hear the wistfulness beneath her sensible tone. Something strong and instinctive welled up inside him.

Almost of its own accord, his thumb stroked her chin, and he bent down to give her a kiss. He had intended it to be a quick gesture of comfort and reassurance, nothing more. But her little gasp of surprise caught him off guard, turning it into something altogether different.

A moment later, he reluctantly pulled back. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.

He saw the soft wonder in her expression, the way her eyes searched his, looking for answers.

Answers he suddenly realized he wasn't ready to give, even to himself.

What had he been thinking? He didn't need complications like this in his life.

Handing her the still-damp bandanna, he stood. “We probably should be getting back to the house. The kids'll be wondering where we got off to.”

 

Callie was confused, by both the kiss and his abrupt change of manner afterward.

Her first real kiss.

Her mind was awhirl with the unexpectedness of it, with the still-tumbling sensations. His rush to distance himself only added to her off-balance feelings.

Was he regretting the kiss? Or embarrassed by it?

Had she reacted improperly?

Callie fumbled around for her bonnet and hairpins, trying to gather her thoughts at the same time. She accepted his hand to help her up, but released it as soon as she was upright. She couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking.

For that matter, she wasn't even certain what
she
was thinking.

Without meeting his gaze, she twisted her hair with a few well-practiced motions and had it pinned into a bun in a matter of seconds.

What a fright she must have looked when he stumbled on her—her hair all loose and tangled, her birthmark on full display and the rest of her face nearly as red and blotchy from her crying. It was a wonder he hadn't turned and left without ever coming near.

But naturally he'd felt sorry for her and had been too much of a gentleman to abandon her to her distress.

She stilled a moment. Is that all that kiss had signified—sympathy?

Of course. How could she have thought, even for a moment, that it had been something more?

“Ready?” His question drew her from her uncomfortable thoughts.

She unfolded and shook out her bonnet. “Yes, of course.”

He stopped her before she could place the starched cloth on her head. “There's no need for that.”

Callie remembered Simon's conversation with his friends. “Yes, there is.” She resolutely pulled the bonnet firmly in place and tied the ribbon under her chin. Just as resolutely, she tamped down the memory of Jack's thumb caressing her there. “You forget, there are the children to consider.”

He shook his head as he extended his arm. “I don't think you give them enough credit. They are children, after all. They would adjust to your appearance quite quickly, given the chance.”

Callie took his arm, glad she'd let loose all of her feeling on the subject earlier. She could face the matter squarely now, without useless self-pity to cloud her attitude. “Perhaps, when the time is right, we'll give it a try.”

Then she straightened her skirt and gave him a serene smile. “Now, as you said, we'd best get back before the children come looking for us.”

 

That evening, Callie closed the door to Simon's room and leaned against it as she let out a tired sigh. Though he grumbled that he'd outgrown the nightly ritual, she still went in to hear his prayers and tuck him in, just as she did with the girls. And every night, his prayers consisted mostly of pleas for God to find a way to help him return to life in town.

Tonight, he'd made his plea more specific, praying that Callie would see Jack's construction efforts as the answer to those prayers and allow them to move “home” when it was done.

After his Amen, the boy had scrambled into bed and turned his back to her, not bothering to so much as acknowledge her when she tucked the coverlet up around his shoulders.

Would she ever be able to get through to him?

Callie pushed away from the door, then hesitated. Should she join Jack for their normal chat tonight?

In spite of her protests this afternoon, Jack had told the children about her birthday and they'd put together a little impromptu celebration. Emma had drawn pictures and Annabeth had picked armloads of wildflowers to decorate the parlor. Jack had dug some cocoa out of the pantry and whipped them each up a cup of cocoa and milk for a treat. Then he'd capped the evening off by insisting that he and the children take care of the kitchen chores while she propped up her feet.

But despite the festivities, there'd been a subtle awkwardness between the two of them ever since that kiss this afternoon. Would being alone together on the moonlit porch ease the tension or intensify it?

Callie squared her shoulders. They'd have to be alone together again sometime.

She loosened her bonnet string. Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. Besides, if she didn't go downstairs tonight, he'd likely read something into her absence that she'd prefer he not.

And she absolutely refused to acknowledge the little tingle of anticipation that shimmied through her.

 

Jack straightened when he heard the door open behind him.

He hadn't been sure she'd join him tonight, wasn't even quite sure if he'd wanted her to.

“Thanks for the birthday celebration,” she said as she leaned against the rail.

A nice, safe subject. Did she plan to ignore what had happened between them this afternoon then? That's what he'd wanted, but still, he'd give a pretty penny to be able to read her mind at the moment.

“You're welcome,” he said carefully. “I'm afraid it wasn't much of a party.”

“Actually, it's one of the nicest ones I've had since Julia left Ohio.”

She must have seen the surprise in his face, because she quickly added, “Oh, I didn't mean to say my family didn't celebrate with me. But this had more the feel of a child's tea party and it brought back sweet memories.”

He grimaced. “A child's tea party, huh?”

“I'm sorry.” She grinned, not looking one bit repentant. “Does it bother you to think you had a hand in such an event? I assure you, it was done quite well.”

Jack relaxed, comfortable with the bantering tone she'd set. “Just don't let word get back to my demolition team.”

She crossed her heart. “You have my word.”

Then her expression turned serious. “You know Simon is still set on returning to his old life in town. He sees this building project of yours as God's answer to his prayers.”

Jack shifted in his seat. He'd never thought of himself as the answer to anyone's prayers. “By the time I'm done, he'll have had more time to adjust to life here on the farm.”

“I don't know that a few weeks, or even months, will make much of a difference in his feelings.”

He heard the wistful tinge in her voice. “What about you? Are you so certain this is really the life you want?”

“More so than ever.”

Not the answer he'd expected. “Why?”

She raised a brow. “Disappointed? I thought you wanted to make certain the farm stayed in Tyler family hands.”

“That's my reason.” He pointed a finger at her. “I asked about yours. Running this place is hard work and you're more accustomed to city ways.”

“It's true that my former home was in the midst of a good-sized city with lots of modern conveniences that haven't found their way out here yet. But I spent most of my days inside that house so it's not like I'll miss the sights and sounds. As for the conveniences, I get by quite nicely without electric lights or fancy shops or so-called fine entertainment, thank you. Moving to Sweetgum proper wouldn't provide those things anyway.”

She turned and stared out over the darkened landscape. “My reason? I like it out here. I like the feel of openness and of making my own way. I like the fact that it's forced me to draw on skills I didn't know I had. And I like experiencing God's handiwork in such an intimate way.” She turned back to him and crossed her arms. “It's also the life Leland wanted for Annabeth and I feel I owe it to him to give it to her.”

Leland again. It always came back to his brother. “What about Emma and Simon?”

Callie sat on the bench and picked at something on her skirt. “I've been pondering on that. I still worry about Emma. But I think the change in scenery and routine has been good for her. Once we figure out whatever is truly bothering her, I believe she'll be happy here.”

So she still thought there was something bothering Emma, something besides her grief. He'd have to keep a closer eye on the girl. He was beginning to appreciate Callie's instincts when it came to the kids.

“As for Simon,” she said slowly, “I just don't know. He seems to have his mind made up and I'm beginning to wonder if we'll be able to change it. The thing is…” She paused, then lifted her head confidently. “I believe, whether he thinks so or not, this is the best place for him right now.”