Blessings of the Heart

by Valerie Hansen

  How could she argue? Apparently, she’d needed a visual aid to convince her this kind of love was possible, because there was no mistaking what was going on. The proof was clinging to her with complete trust and unqualified affection.

  “Oh, dear.” Brianne started to sniffle the way the child had when he’d first come to her. “Oh, dear, oh, dear.”

  That was enough to get Bud’s attention. He loosened his hold on her neck, then bent to pick up his teddy bear.

  He held it out. “Here,” he said, clearly yet softly. “He’ll make it all better.”

  She had to fight to keep from weeping out loud. This tenderhearted child, whom she hardly knew, was offering to share his most precious possession. There was no way she’d refuse such a kindness.

  “Thank you, honey.” Smiling through her tears, she included the worn teddy bear in their mutual hug. “I feel better already.”

  “Told ya.”

  “You sure did.”

  Still cradling the raggedy toy, she got to her feet and held out her hand to Bud. “What do you say you and I go downstairs and see if we can find some cookies?”

  “Okay. Only my bear doesn’t like cookies. I’ll have to eat his for him.”

  Brianne laughed and played along. “You’re the expert. Shall we bring some back for your brother, too?”

  “Naw,” Bud said. “He doesn’t like cookies, either.” His grin spread wide.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to eat his, too, right?”

  The little boy muffled a high-pitched giggle with his free hand before he answered, “Yup. I guess I will.”

  Mitch was already frying bacon when Brianne wandered into the kitchen the following morning.

  She yawned. “Do you always get up this early?”

  “I like mornings.”

  “Me, too,” she muttered, heading for the coffeepot, “as long as they start around nine or ten.”

  He laughed. “That’s almost noon to me.”

  “Fine. Then skip breakfast and start with lunch.” Another yawn was followed by a sigh. “I told you I’d start cooking around eight, and you said that was fine. If you wanted to eat earlier you should have said so. What time is it, anyway?”

  “Around six-thirty.” Her resulting groan brought a chuckle from him. “If you wouldn’t spend half the night raiding the cookie jar, maybe you wouldn’t be so tired.”

  Her head snapped around so fast she sloshed her coffee. “How do you know about that?”

  “My first clue? The crumbs I found in my bed,” Mitch said. “Bud crawled in with me sometime during the night and brought a fistful of extra cookies with him. When I asked him about it, he said you and he had been having a late-night snack.”

  “Us and the bear. So, you didn’t actually see us?”

  “No. Why?”

  “No particular reason. I just wondered.” Until she was able to sort out her confusing sentiments she didn’t want to get into a discussion about the merits of motherhood versus a life without offspring. And she certainly didn’t want to influence Mitch by playing up her newly discovered affinity for one of his children.

  She carried her cup to the table and plopped down. “If I’d realized how early it was I wouldn’t have gotten dressed. I’m glad you’ve decided to cook. I’m beat.”

  “You look like it,” he teased, taking in her lightweight jeans and shirt appreciatively. The blue color almost matched her eyes.

  Bree made a face. “Thanks a heap.”

  “It might help if you combed your hair.”

  “I did. Didn’t I?” She started to smooth her long hair back from her face with her fingers, realized he was right and frowned. “Oops. Guess I forgot. I told you I was tired.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You look kind of cute all mussed like that. It’s a good thing you’re not trying to cook our breakfast, though. It was interesting enough when you were making dinner wide awake.”

  “I’d have done fine if you hadn’t tried to help.”

  “The potatoes were good.”

  “Sure, thanks to your pouring cheese all over them. I told you I didn’t know anything about what kids liked.”

  “You did okay with the cookies last night.”

  Brianne took a careful sip of her coffee, stalling while she tried to think of another snappy comeback. Before she could come up with one, Ryan dashed into the kitchen, slid to a stop and confronted her.

  “Where’s the bear?” he hollered. “What’d you do with it?”

  Taken aback by his hostility, Bree stared at him. “What?”

  “My brother’s bear. Where is it? I want it back. Now!”

  To her relief, Mitch placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “Knock it off, Ryan. That’s no way to talk to Ms. Bailey.”

  “But—”

  “I said, knock it off.” Mitch looked to Brianne. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Sure. Bud loaned me his bear, that’s all. It’s fine. I tried to give it back to him last night, but he wouldn’t take it.”

  Ryan stiffened. “You didn’t lose it?”

  “Of course not. It’s right upstairs in my room.”

  Twisting out of his father’s hold, the eight-year-old dashed from the kitchen without further comment.

  Puzzled, Bree focused on Mitch. “Okay. You understand kids. What just happened here?”

  “Beats me. I’ve had a hiatus from parenting, remember?”

  “At least you were a little boy once. I never was.”

  “I must confess, I already had that much figured out.”

  The look Bree gave him in response was so comical he almost burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny, mister?”

  “You are. I think one of us ought to follow Ryan and make sure he doesn’t get into anything that’s none of his business. I shouldn’t leave the bacon right now. Do you mind doing it?”

  “Not at all.” Rising, Brianne smoothed her tangled hair. “I have to go upstairs, anyway, and make myself more presentable. The new chef we hired has complained that I’m unfit to grace his kitchen.”

  “Don’t misquote me. I said you were cute that way.”

  “Cute is for puppies and kittens and little kids. I’d rather look like I have it together, thank you.”

  “Whatever.” With a nonchalant shrug, Mitch turned his back to her and appeared to give the sizzling bacon his full attention. Much of his mind, however, was busy trying to figure out why Brianne seemed unwilling to accept a sincere compliment because she wasn’t precisely groomed. Didn’t she know how endearing she was when she relaxed and stopped trying to prove whatever it was she was trying to prove?

  Then again, maybe it was normal for a woman to think she had to have every hair in place. Personally, he didn’t care whether Bree was dressed up or running around the house barefoot. All he wanted to do was look at her, be with her. She was doing everything she could to discourage him, yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind for even a few minutes. No wonder he understood kids so well. He was acting like a child. The one thing he’d been told he couldn’t possibly have was the one he wanted most.

  Brianne met Ryan coming out of her room. “I see you found Bud’s bear.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I told you it was okay.”

  His icy glare was unnerving. She refused to be cowed. “Would you like to tell me why you were so worried?”

  “No.”

  “Then how about telling me something about the bear? Where did Bud get it?”

  “From our mother. Why?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “It’s none of your business,” the boy muttered. He tucked the toy under his arm and disappeared down the hall before she could think of a suitable reply.

  Astonished, Bree returned to the kitchen.

  “Did he find it?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you frown
ing?”

  “Kids,” she said. “I don’t understand them at all.”

  “Welcome to the club. What happened up there?”

  “Ryan is furious with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He acted like he thought I’d stolen the bear from Bud. It was weird.”

  “No kidding?” Mitch took the hot frying pan off the burner so he could give Brianne his full attention. “What, exactly, did you say to him?”

  “Nothing much. I just asked where Bud got the bear.”

  “And?”

  “That was all. Ryan said it came from their mother.”

  “You’re positive he was mad at you?”

  Bree arched her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah. Does his reaction make any sense to you?”

  “Maybe.” Mitch nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Ryan hasn’t told me much about the years he spent with his mother. I do know he was left in charge of Bud a lot of the time. Maybe he got to thinking of his brother as his personal responsibility. Even so, that’s no reason to be rude to you. I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “Forget it. I’m already on his bad side. If he thinks I ratted on him, he’ll be positive I’m one of the bad guys.”

  Mitch gave her a lopsided smile. “Guess he doesn’t know about the cookie spree you and Bud went on last night, huh?”

  “I guess not. Sorry about the crumbs in your bed. I told Bud he could take some cookies upstairs with him. I didn’t realize that I should have explained he wasn’t supposed to sleep with them.”

  “Kids take things literally,” Mitch said. “If you leave out details, they’ll assume there are no restrictions. I’m just thankful you didn’t give him something messier.”

  “Like ice cream.” She laughed softly. “He asked for some of that, too.”

  “Which reminds me. We need to check our food supplies and make sure we ration the important stuff. Just in case.”

  She didn’t even want to consider the possibility of long-term isolation. “I’ve already looked through the pantry and the freezer. Surely we won’t be stuck here long enough to run out of food.”

  “I’ll know more after I’ve hiked down the road a ways and scoped it out. I want to take a list with me so I’ll know what extras to pick up in case I make it as far as Burnham’s store.”

  “Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s a couple of ridges to the west of here. When I was a kid, I used to run errands over that way for my aunt. I hope the old place is still there.” He smiled in fond remembrance. “Chances are she didn’t need the stuff from Burnham’s nearly as much as she needed to get me out of the cabin—and out of her hair.”

  “You mean you weren’t a lovable little boy like Bud?”

  “No. I was more like Ryan—or rather, he’s like me. Had a chip on my shoulder the size of a full-grown oak. And just as hard. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Eldon taking me in and straightening me out, starting when I was thirteen, I’d probably have wound up in serious trouble.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “No, it isn’t. It gives me insight into what makes Ryan tick. Right now, he’s angry at everybody and everything. Plus, he’s disappointed in adults. I can relate to that.”

  Bree smiled slightly. “I’m with you so far. When I was little I remember wishing that the neighbors were my parents.”

  “At least you had somebody. My folks decided having a kid around was too much trouble, so they tossed me out on my ear.”

  “That may have been a blessing in disguise. Your uncle sounds like he was a wonderful influence.”

  “He was. Vi and Eldon both were. I intended to teach my kids the same lessons by bringing them out here to the woods. That plan hasn’t worked real well so far.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be compensated fairly for your cabin.”

  Mitch was slowly shaking his head. “Money’s not my biggest problem right now. I was fooling myself to think things would be the same up here now as they used to be. It wasn’t just living out in the woods that made the difference in me, it was my aunt’s and uncle’s kindness, their faith and unconditional love.”

  “I have faith in you, too,” Bree said. “You’ll be able to win back your boys once they get used to you again. Remember, three years is a long time.”

  “Yeah.” Mitch sobered. “In their case it’s practically a whole lifetime.”

  Breakfast went off without a hitch. Later, Bree was sitting in the den, reading and watching the boys enjoy morning cartoons, when Mitch joined them.

  “Kitchen’s all cleaned up,” he said. “If I hurry I can be down the hill and back before the kids get hungry again.”

  Bree smiled at him. “We should be okay till tonight. I found a couple packages of hot dogs in the freezer. I’m positive I can manage to boil a pot of water to cook them in.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I wish you could come with me.” He glanced at the children for emphasis.

  Bree understood. “I don’t see how. I’ll be fine here. I haven’t had a good excuse to watch cartoons since I was a kid.”

  Ryan’s attention was diverted. He gave his father a stormy look. “Why do we have to stay with her?”

  “Because.” Mitch met the boy’s animosity with a stern look of his own. “Remember. No running in the house, no noisy games and absolutely no Barney while I’m gone. I want you to behave yourselves just like you would if I was right here.”

  “Yeah, sure.” The sullen child went back to watching television.

  Bree followed Mitch from the den and didn’t comment until they were out of earshot. “Has he always been so belligerent?”

  “No. The Ryan I remember used to be a lot easier to get along with.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be too hard on him. I imagine his mother told him all kinds of bad things about you to justify her leaving. Being back with you must be a difficult adjustment for him, especially after so long.”

  “I hope that’s all that’s wrong,” Mitch said. “If he’s scared, I’ll cut him some slack. On the other hand, if he’s just being a brat, I can’t let him get away with it.”

  “I’m glad it’s your problem, not mine.”

  Mitch heaved a noisy sigh. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot to keep praying about, all right.”

  “For your sake, I hope it helps,” she said solemnly.

  “Always does.”

  “Does it? The first night you stayed here, Ryan told me his mother thought you were crazy to believe in God.”

  “And you agree with her.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but you were thinking it.” Mitch smiled benevolently. “Funny how it all worked out in my case. In the beginning, any faith I had came from living out here with Vi and Eldon. They lugged me to their homey little country church when I was so hostile they practically had to hog-tie me to get me in the door. It’s a wonder the whole congregation didn’t line up to paddle me. I deserved it.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Treated me like a decent human being, mostly. That was a whole new experience for me.” He shrugged. “Then again, everything up here in the Ozarks was new to me. I’d never seen a live deer before. Or a rabbit, or a nesting bird, or a wild terrapin, or a turkey, or…”

  Brianne cut in. “Or ticks, or chiggers, or copperheads and water moccasins, or hail the size of baseballs, or rainstorms that would make old Noah so nervous he’d start building another ark. I still can’t believe what happened to your cabin. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Picturing what might have happened to us if we hadn’t made a run for it has put the whole incident into perspective. The old place was in pretty bad shape, anyway. When the boys get a little older, maybe we’ll rebuild it together.”

  “That would be nice. Go on about your aunt and uncle. How long did it take you to quit resisting going with them on Sunday mornings?”

  “Sunday mornings?” Mitch laughed. �
��It was Sunday morning and Sunday night, Wednesday evenings, volunteer work parties for senior citizens and widows, extra Bible study after I finished my school homework and chores, dinner-on-the-ground once a month or more, pie suppers to raise funds for all kinds of charity projects, gospel sings, revivals in a brush arbor—one thing after another. If it hadn’t been for doings at church they wouldn’t have had any social life at all.”

  “Where did you fit into it all?”

  “It took about four years for them to win me over. I was sixteen when all of a sudden the whole thing made sense to me. I hotfooted it up that aisle so fast one morning when the preacher gave the invitation, I think I scared him silly.”

  “Do you still go to the same little church?”

  Mitch shook his head slowly. “No. It’s long gone. Until my family fell apart, I hadn’t been in any church for years.”

  “And then?”

  “Then I had nowhere else to turn. I fell back on my raising, as they say. My belief in God and Christ is stronger now than it ever was. Until this week I hadn’t missed a Sunday in church for a long time.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Bree said wistfully. “I wish I could say the same. I went to Sunday school when I was little. It didn’t stick. When my mother died, so did my faith.”

  “Lots of people question their beliefs after a trauma. If you aren’t in the habit of looking to the Lord for help and trusting Him to work things out, it’s easy to go the other way. That doesn’t mean you can’t choose to turn yourself around.”

  “And stir up all those terrible feelings again? No, thanks.”

  “I guess it is easier to stay mad at God.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Dead wrong,” she insisted, her jaw set with determination. “Listen. My father went to church all the time, and he was one of the meanest men I’ve ever known. I have no desire to be around people like that, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Just be sure you’re not confusing church membership with genuine commitment to Christ. They’re not necessarily the same thing. Anybody can warm a pew on Sunday morning without actually belonging. It’s like a woodstove with no fire in it. It’s still a stove. It looks the same. It can even be stuffed full of firewood and kindling. It just won’t function the way it was meant to until you put a lighted match to it.”