Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish

by Marta Perry

  “The house?” She looked blank.

  “My house. My brother thinks it’s a great idea.”

  Distress crossed her face. “You’re bothered by having the children around. I know this isn’t a conventional way to run an office, but—”

  “No, that’s not it at all.” He should have realized she’d jump to that conclusion. “You must know by now that I like your kids.”

  As soon as he said the words he realized how true they were. He hadn’t intended this to happen—it certainly wasn’t part of the detachment he’d been cultivating. But her children had worked their way into his heart when he wasn’t looking.

  “Then why are you trying to get rid of them?” Sarah pushed her chair back, her face guarded, as if preparing for a fight.

  “Look, I think we could deal with two problems at the same time here. Jenny needs playmates—there are no young families close enough to the house to make that easy. And you need a few hours a day when you’re free to concentrate on the paper, instead of always wondering if the current baby-sitter is up to par.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my baby-sitters.” She was quickly defensive. “They may be young, but—”

  “But all the older kids have other summer jobs. I know. I remember what it’s like.” He sat on the edge of her desk, trying a smile, hoping to relax the conversation. “Every teenager on the island who wants to work can find a summer job, and baby-sitting comes at the bottom of the list.”

  Sarah didn’t relax. “Even if that’s true, I don’t expect you to come to my rescue. Providing childcare is not one of your partnership responsibilities.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you always this prickly when someone wants to do something for you?”

  “I don’t like to take charity.” Her clear blue eyes clouded. “I remember—” She stopped.

  “You remember what?” He leaned forward, suddenly wanting to know what brought that distress to the surface. “This isn’t charity, but never mind that for now. What do you remember?”

  He saw the struggle in her face. She wanted to tell him; she didn’t want to tell him. “Come on, Sarah. I’ve leveled with you. Don’t I deserve the same?”

  Her smile flickered briefly. “It’s nothing very important.”

  “Then there’s no reason not to tell me why that’s such a hot button for you.”

  She shrugged. “Have it your way. My father was career army. He was posted all over the world, and since my mother died when I was a baby, I went with him.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Maybe that explained why Caldwell Cove was so important to her. She wanted a stable home for her own kids.

  “I wasn’t much older than Andi when we lived in Germany.” She frowned. “I don’t know why money was so tight, but it was. I had to have uniforms for the school there, but Dad couldn’t afford them. So the headmistress called me in, and they had this big box of cast-off uniforms. The teacher went rooting through them, trying to find something that would fit. Nothing did, and Dad certainly didn’t know how to alter anything.” She looked down, as if seeing a too-big school uniform. “I went through that whole school year looking like a raga-muffin.” She grimaced. “Silly, I know. But it made me a little touchy where accepting charity is concerned.”

  She’d ended on a light note, but his throat was ridiculously tight. He kept seeing the little girl she’d been, with blond pigtails like Andi’s, feeling hurt and ashamed that she wasn’t like the other kids.

  “As I said, this isn’t charity.” He tried to keep his tone brisk. “At least, not for you. We want to provide a job for Miz Becky’s niece, so she can earn next year’s college tuition. She keeps insisting watching Jenny isn’t enough work.”

  She smiled. “And you think watching my crew would be enough to justify hazard pay.”

  He smiled back, relieved that they seemed to have moved out of emotional territory. “Something like that. You can consider it helping a deserving young woman get her education. So, will you do it?”

  Sarah held his gaze for a long moment, as if probing his intent. Finally she gave a hesitant nod. “I guess we can try it for a day or two.”

  “Fine.” He got up quickly, before she could change her mind. “We’ll start this afternoon.”

  She looked startled. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until a few days? We should give Jenny’s sitter a chance to prepare.”

  “Wanda’s ready now. And Jenny can’t wait to have them there to play. We’ll run them over around one. You mentioned your sitter has to leave then, so this will work out perfectly. All right?” He could feel the resistance in her.

  “We’ll try it,” she said again. “If it’s too much for the sitter—”

  “It won’t be,” he said, inordinately pleased that he’d pulled this off. Sarah would accept his help. She’d undoubtedly give him an argument about who paid Wanda, but he’d deal with that when it happened.

  The important thing was that he could help her and, in a way, make the paper run more smoothly. He silenced the little voice whispering in his mind that this was another giant step into each other’s lives.

  How had she let herself be talked into this? Sarah got out of the van, looking nervously up at the pillared veranda as she took Amy out of the car seat. She couldn’t feel at home in a place like this. Her kids didn’t belong here. What if they broke something?

  “We’re ready.” Matt shooed the kids toward the veranda. “Let’s go find Wanda and Jenny.”

  At least the children didn’t seem to sense her nervousness. Andi skipped along at Matt’s side, perfectly confident, while the boys peppered him with questions.

  Sarah tried not to let her gaze slip sideways to the swing where they’d sat Wednesday night. Where they’d kissed.

  Matt held the door open, and the kids scurried inside. He gestured for her to enter.

  She should have stuck with her initial no. Working with Matt every day was bad enough. Having her children in his house was worse.

  There was only one solution—she’d have to find some reasonable excuse to get out of this. Clutching Amy, she crossed the threshold into the Caldwell mansion.

  She stood in the wide center hallway, getting her bearings, noticing things she’d been too preoccupied to see on Wednesday night. To her right was the formal dining room, with its crystal chandelier and mahogany table and chairs carved in the rice design that was typical of the sea islands. To the left, a ceiling fan circled lazily above elegant Queen Anne furniture placed on what seemed an acre of Oriental carpet.

  Ahead of her a circular staircase soared upward, looking as if Scarlett O’Hara would descend at any moment. But that wasn’t Scarlett coming toward her down the steps. It was Matt’s father.

  Jefferson Caldwell approached with cool assurance, holding out his hand. “Ms. Reed. Welcome to Twin Oaks.”

  “Thank you.” She shook hands, trying to assess her impressions as Caldwell turned to his son with a question. Distinguished—that was probably the word. That leonine mane of white hair, those piercing eyes—Jefferson Caldwell looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted.

  She glanced from him to Matt, wondering. Coolness tainted the air between them. She couldn’t help but see it.

  Was this because of Matt’s partnership in the newspaper? If his father disapproved of that, she could hardly imagine that he’d want her children cluttering up his house.

  Jefferson turned to her, looking as if his mind had already moved past her to something more important. “Miz Becky is waiting for you in the kitchen, and I expect the others are there, too. Y’all go on back. Make yourselves at home.”

  “Thank you.” She relaxed marginally. At least Caldwell Sr. didn’t seem actively opposed to their presence. But if he had been, that would have given her the perfect excuse to call this whole thing off.

  “This way.” Matt shepherded them through a swinging door at the end of the hallway, his step quickening.

  Suddenly they were in a diff
erent world—one with linoleum underfoot, geraniums blossoming on the windowsills and a ginger cat weaving around the legs of the woman who turned to greet them.

  “’Bout time you were getting back here with them, boy.” Miz Becky buffeted Matt with an affectionate blow to his shoulder, but her eyes were on the children. “Y’all are welcome in my kitchen, y’heah? Andi, Ethan, Jeffrey.” She greeted each of them with a gentle touch to head or cheek. “And this little darlin’ is Amy.”

  She scooped the baby from Sarah’s arms, murmuring to her softly in Gullah, the language of sea island natives. Sarah could only look on in amazement as Miz Becky charmed her children.

  Matt had said she’d taken care of him and Adam after raising her own children, so Miz Becky had to be sixty, at least. But she was as proudly erect as any queen, and the glossy black hair that wrapped around her head in a kind of coronet showed not a trace of gray.

  This part of the house looked different, smelled different, felt different. Where the front was all cool elegance, Miz Becky’s kitchen felt warmly loving.

  The biggest change was in Matt. The tension she’d sensed when he was with his father had disappeared entirely. He teased the children gently in Gullah as he helped Miz Becky carry a pitcher of lemonade and platter of molasses cookies to the back porch.

  Sarah followed, wondering. What kind of home was it, when the son of the house felt more at home in the kitchen with the housekeeper?

  “This is my niece, Wanda.”

  The tall young woman who’d been playing a game with Jenny at the porch table rose to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Reed.” She smiled. “And the children. Andi, Ethan, Jeffrey.” Like her aunt, Wanda called them by name, but her language didn’t have as much of the slurred Gullah accent. “I see Aunt Becky has already laid claim to the baby. I’ll be lucky ever to get my hands on her.”

  “But—” Sarah looked at the woman who cradled Amy against her cheek. “I don’t want to impose on you. I’m sure you already have plenty to do running a big house like this.”

  “Sugar, you couldn’t make me happier if you tried.” She rocked Amy gently, and the baby’s eyes started to close. “I’ve been longin’ for another baby to love around here, and it started to look like that wouldn’t happen.”

  Matt held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I’ve brought you Amy. You can’t ask for more.”

  His quick words jolted her heart. No one could ask for more from Matt. She’d known that since their talk Wednesday night. His experiences had convinced him the only safe life was a detached one, and that undoubtedly extended to having a family of his own.

  That was his decision. The twinge in her heart was totally uncalled for.

  She still wasn’t convinced that the Caldwell housekeeper should be watching her baby. Had anyone bothered to consult Jefferson Caldwell about that?

  “Miz Becky, I’m just not sure—”

  “Hush, child.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen door. “Come in and see what we’ve fixed up for this little one.”

  Matt had joined the children and Wanda at the round table on the porch and was pouring out lemonade. She followed Miz Becky into the cool kitchen and then to a small room that adjoined it.

  Becky’s gesture encompassed it. “This used to be a maid’s room, but nobody lives in it anymore. Matt helped me get it ready.”

  Sunlight slanted through the window and lay in patches on the wide plank floor. The room had been turned into a nursery, with a crib, changing table and a box of baby toys.

  “You’ve gone to so much trouble.”

  “No trouble.” Miz Becky lowered Amy to the crib. The baby stirred, then slipped deeply into sleep, one hand curled against her cheek. “These things were our Jenny’s when she was a baby. She was right excited to help us get them out for Amy. And Matt was the most at peace I’ve seen him since he got home.” She smoothed one hand along the crib railing. “That boy needs a little peace. If he gets it from helping your young ones, that’s not such a big thing to ask, is it?”

  Sarah blinked back tears, thinking of Matt’s face when he’d talked about the children he’d heard crying for help after the bombing that killed his friend. Maybe this could be a step in his healing.

  “No,” she said softly. “It’s not a big thing to ask at all.”

  They walked back to the porch.

  Wanda had the children lined up on the step while she laid out the house rules for them with quiet authority. “Y’all listen when I call you, stay out of the front of the house and don’t run through the flower beds or my daddy will get after you. He takes care of those flowers, and he’s right proud of them. All right?”

  Sarah half expected Andi to argue or Ethan to try and wheedle his way out of the rules, but all three nodded solemnly.

  “That’s fine, then.” Wanda flashed them a wide smile. “Let’s have a game.”

  The children followed her onto the lawn, and Matt rose, moving to her side. “See?” he said. “Plenty of room for them to play safely. That’s the stable, beyond the garages, with the vegetable garden beyond that.”

  “And that?” She pointed to the raw skeleton of a building rising behind the outbuildings.

  Matt grimaced. “My father’s latest project. He’s putting up a few new houses on the lane behind the estate.”

  “Don’t you like the idea of neighbors that close?” Or was it something about his father’s business that bothered him?

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.” Implicit in it was that he’d soon be gone. “Well, Sarah?” He gave her a challenging look. “You find any flaws in our arrangements for the kids that would let you back out?”

  He shouldn’t be able to read her that easily. She felt a twinge of panic. How had she let him get so far into her life?

  “No flaws.” She managed a smile. She could be gracious about this, after all.

  “Then let’s get back to work.”

  He took her arm as he spoke, his hand warm against her skin, and her pulse jumped. Work—just the two of them in the office. Before, the children had always been nearby, forming a buffer by their presence. Now she and Matt were really going to be alone together.

  “The worship is ended. Let the service begin.” Pastor Wells held up his hands in benediction, and the organ burst out in joyful music.

  Sarah stood still in the pew for a moment, letting the peace she’d been seeking for the last several days seep into her. St. Andrew’s Chapel—its minister and its people—had been a blessing to her since the day she arrived on the island. She loved it—loved the tiny wooden sanctuary that felt almost like a boat inside, loved the ancient stained-glass windows, loved Pastor Wells’s sermons, always so filled with joy.

  A fragment of guilt touched her. She had to admit that she hadn’t listened as closely as she should have to the day’s message. Matt had been seated three rows ahead of her. She’d forced herself not to look, but even when she’d had her gaze fixed on the pulpit, awareness of him hovered at the edge of her mind.

  Stop it, she lectured herself sternly. She saw more than enough of Matt all week. They probably both needed a break from each other on Sunday, especially now that the children spent afternoons at the mansion. Hopefully by the time she picked the children up from the nursery and the junior church, he’d be gone.

  When she emerged into the churchyard a few minutes later, people still clustered under the trees, chatting. Before she could head toward the car, Jason Sanders broke away from a nearby group and approached her. Tension skittered along her nerves. She hadn’t talked to Sanders since the day he’d withdrawn his advertising.

  “Good morning, Jason.” She hoped he wasn’t planning to be difficult.

  “Sarah, good to see you.” He beamed as if she were a long-lost relative. “How’s everything at the paper?”

  The children, apparently considering this a reprieve from going home, scurried off to chase each other around the sprawling branches of a live oak.

 
“Just fine.” She shifted Amy to the other arm. Sanders had to know his actions had put a dent in their budget, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

  He lifted an eyebrow, some of the joviality leaving his face. “Can’t be easy for you, breaking in a new partner. Especially someone like Matt Caldwell.”

  She felt her smile freeze on her face. “Matt’s doing fine.”

  “Still, can’t be like working with Peter.” He sighed. “Terrible loss. I always liked Peter. It’d be a shame to see the paper change from his vision for it.”

  Her lips felt stiff, but she managed to make them move. “Nothing has changed about the Gazette.” She glanced past him, seeing Matt approach. “Perhaps you’d like to talk with Matt about it.”

  “Think I’ll skip that pleasure.” He turned to move off, then glanced back at her. “I’d like to resume my advertising, Sarah. I surely would.”

  “I hope you’ll think about it.”

  He nodded, then was gone before Matt reached her.

  “What did he want?” Suspicion colored Matt’s voice as he glared after Sanders.

  “I’m not sure.” What had been the point of that little exchange? She didn’t know, but she knew it made her uneasy.

  Matt shook his head, as if dismissing Sanders. “Pastor Wells has something he’d like to talk with us about.”

  Amy, hearing Matt’s voice, made a lunge toward him. He caught her as if he’d been doing that all her life and carried her as they walked to the minister. “Tell Sarah what you were just telling me. She’ll be interested.”

  Was that his way of palming something off on her that he didn’t want to do?

  Pastor Wells tickled Amy’s cheek. “I was asking Matt if he realized the two-hundredth birthday of the church is coming up this year.” He looked lovingly toward the frame building. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “I hadn’t realized. You must be planning a celebration.” Somehow she had the feeling they were going to be asked to do something.

  “Yes, of course. And part of that celebration should be a recognition of the role St. Andrews has played in the island’s history.”