by Linda Ford
Annie slid an overt look at Evan, noting the way he watched them from the curtain of his eyelashes. It was the word family that drew his attention and she vowed to use the word as often as possible.
With goodbye to all in the room, including Evan, Logan made his departure. Hugh returned to the office and Annie turned her attention toward cooking, though her thoughts were not on the familiar tasks. No. Instead, she prayed for guidance. A thought came and she began to speak.
“Evan, that was my brother. I have three brothers and they are all married and all of them have children. We are a big family. The reason my brothers come to see me is because they care. They would do anything for me. That’s what families do.”
She prepared a pot of soup for the noon meal and described everything she did from peeling carrots to chopping onions.
“Onions make me cry.” She wiped her eyes on the corner of a towel. She looked directly at the boy and caught a look of concern in his face before he jerked away. “Not because I’m sad but because they give off a juice that stings my eyes.” The fact that he showed emotion over her tears so encouraged her she wanted to run to the office and tell Hugh.
The office door remained ajar. How much could he hear? She half considered raising her voice so he wouldn’t miss a word. Somehow she would make an opportunity to tell him of Evan’s reaction.
While the soup simmered on the stove, Annie swept the floor and then got down on her hands and knees to wash it. Not because it was dirty. Mrs. Ross had seen to that. But in order to have an excuse to get to Evan’s level. As she worked, she continued to talk.
She told him how Grandfather had started the Marshall Five Ranch, and Grandfather told of his early days. She spoke of the first horse she could remember riding.
Soon enough it was time for dinner and she went to the office. Hugh sat with a fan of papers before him. He held what looked like a photograph in his hands. She observed for a moment, then rapped on the door.
“Dinner is ready.”
He looked at the picture a moment longer before he let out a long breath and laid the picture faceup on the desktop.
Curious, she tried to see it.
He noticed her interest and tipped the picture toward her. “Evan’s mother.”
She studied the likeness of a very pretty young woman. “Bernice?” Why was he showing her now when he’d refused to talk about her last night?
“Do you remember me mentioning Stewart Caldwell?”
“Wasn’t that the preacher who took you in when your parents died?”
“Yes, after my mother died. My father had disappeared before that.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve had a lot of loss.”
He drew his finger along the edge of the frame holding the photo. “Stewart warned me not to marry Bernice but I thought I knew better.”
“Why did he warn you against her?”
“I suppose he saw things I refused to see.” Hugh’s gaze slammed into Annie so that she gripped the door to keep from falling back. “She had a reputation for wildness. I put it down to her youth. I discovered it was more than that. She couldn’t seem to get enough of…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “Life, I suppose. She lived in a permanent state of excitement and when I could no longer offer that, she sought it elsewhere.”
“She left you for more excitement?” It was so much like Dawson’s first wife, Violet, that she could barely keep the shock and anger from her voice. She’d watched Dawson and Mattie suffer when Violet sought what she wanted elsewhere. At least Dawson had his family to help him.
Hugh stared at the picture. “She left and she took Evan.” The agony in his voice echoed inside Annie. The little boy had paid a heavy price for his mother’s foolishness.
She took the three steps to Hugh’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath her palm. “It’s an answer to prayer that you found him. My whole family prayed daily that you would and now you have. Evan has you and me and Grandfather and my whole family to teach him what life should be like.” She stood there, quietly waiting and silently praying for healing for both father and son.
The tension eased from Hugh’s shoulder and she removed her hand lest he think her too forward.
He slipped the picture into the right-hand top drawer and closed the drawer firmly. “I have to trust God that Evan can be helped.”
“I’m positive he can be. He sees everything. I believe Evan understands what is being said around him and even more important, he is aware of other people’s feelings.” She told him how she had seen concern in Evan’s eyes when she cried while chopping onions. “It’s a very good sign.”
He pushed to his feet and stood facing her, barely eighteen inches between them. She was overwhelmed by his nearness, felt his strength and his powerful personality just as she had from the first time she saw him.
“I hope you are right and I admit I’m willing to believe anything that offers me hope about my son.”
She smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile though inside, she trembled just a little at all the longings rushing through her. She did not want to care about this man any more deeply than as a partner sharing concern about Evan. “How can he fail to get better with so many people on his side?” Her words were meant to make her remember she was here only to do a job of caring for Evan and his father.
He caught the door and pulled it wider, waiting for her to go ahead of him. They walked side by side to the kitchen. And Annie told herself it meant nothing but common courtesy. Perhaps also mutual concern over a little boy. But nothing beyond that. It was something they were both agreed on.
After they ate soup and thick slices of bread, followed by the remains of a cake discovered in the pantry, Hugh announced he was going to visit Mr. Barret.
Grandfather, who had spent the morning reading or snoozing in his chair, said, “Would you like me to go with you?”
Hugh looked about to say yes, then shook his head. “It’s bitter cold out there. You’re better off staying inside and keeping warm. Thanks for offering.”
Grandfather looked so relieved that Annie’s estimation of Hugh rose several notches. She followed him to the door as he donned a heavy woolen coat. “Thank you for realizing it’s best for Grandfather to stay home.” Home stuck momentarily on her tongue. She gave a decisive nod of her head. She would soon get used to this house being home rather than the ranch house.
Hugh seemed surprised at her words. “I’m not about to take advantage of an old man.” He studied her a moment. “Or of a young woman.”
Before she could challenge his assumption that he was taking advantage of her, he stepped outside and closed the door, a cold blast sweeping across the floor. She reached for the knob, about to call out a protest but pulled her hand back and turned away.
She’d given up on love and meant to keep her heart safe from emotional involvement but she had not given up on this arrangement. She had four weeks to prove to him that it should be made permanent. Surely four weeks would be long enough.
Chapter Four
Hugh walked four blocks down Silver Street and turned right. He passed three houses and reached the home Mr. Barret shared with his elderly sister, neither of whom seemed to have a cheerful bone between them. He paused outside the door to pray for strength, wisdom and a large dose of Christian kindness. The elderly pair had followed Mr. Barret’s married son to Montana to look for gold but his son had been killed in an accident several years back and his wife, the younger Mrs. Barret, had returned east to her kinfolk. Neither of the elderly Barrets could see any reason to leave their home in Bella Creek although they had no family here. According to Mr. Barret, they had no relatives anywhere. Surely that was enough to make the pair morose.
As he stood before the weathered door, he thought of the morning’s events. Annie had promised her whole family would work together for Evan’s benefit. A most generous offer and one that made him more hopeful than he had been all week. Don’t c
ount on too much, he warned himself. Annie was young and beautiful and would soon find greener pastures.
The cold knotted the muscles in his chest. Strange that frigid air had never had that effect on him before. He would not admit it had anything to do with the thought of Annie leaving and the need for him to start the process over again…with a more suitable woman.
Gathering his thoughts together, he rapped his gloved knuckles on the door. Knowing from past experience that it would take a few minutes for Miss Barret to come, he waited. After several minutes when she hadn’t answered, he removed his glove and banged harder then bent his ear to the door to listen, concerned that she might be unable to cross from the kitchen. Perhaps she’d fallen.
He thought he detected a shuffling sound and waited, ready to barge in if he thought it necessary.
He was about to do so when the doorknob rattled and the frail, white-haired woman opened the door. “Come in, pastor,” she said in her reedy voice.
He hurried in so she could close out the cold.
“Clarence was just saying that you had forgotten your promise to visit. He’d have had to scold you if you did.”
Hugh knew Clarence Barret’s scoldings took on the form of fire and condemnation but perhaps Hugh needed to be reminded occasionally that he was a man with many flaws.
“I’ve been otherwise occupied this week but I promised and here I am.”
She led him through the unheated parlor to the kitchen where the elderly couple spent their days, though he couldn’t say what they did.
Mr. Barret looked up at Hugh’s entrance. “Couldn’t have left it much later, could you?” The old man was reed thin, white haired—what was left of it—and wore a permanent scowl.
“There’s still one more day in the week.”
“And a whole bushel of excuses, I’ve no doubt.”
Hugh didn’t wait for an invitation to sit because he’d learned there wouldn’t be one. He chose a chair that allowed him to face the elderly man. “How are you faring in this cold weather?”
“Surviving, which is all we can hope for. What’s this I hear about you taking a young woman to live with you? What’s this world coming to that a preacher would live in sin?”
Hugh’s ear tips grew hot. He had no intention of arguing with the old man but he wanted to defend himself. Before he could speak, Mr. Barret rushed on.
“The young Marshall gal is what I hear. The old man must be getting doddering in his old age to allow such a thing.”
Hugh understood him to mean Grandfather Marshall.
Mr. Barret rushed on with his sister tsking disapproval in the background. “And Bud and his fine sons. Have they all taken leave of their senses?” Mr. Barret leaned forward. “What have you got to say for yourself, young man?”
How had the troublesome old man become aware of this already? Then Hugh recalled that the pair paid a young lad to bring their groceries every week. Likely they’d hear the news from him and had assumed and embellished it on their own. “Have you heard I found my son?”
“Mrs. Ross says the boy is addled in his head.” Mrs. Ross must have been the boy’s source of information and he’d simply repeated it to the Barrets.
Hugh doubted Mrs. Ross had used those sort of words but how like Mr. Barret to put an ugly twist to the whole situation.
“He’s been mistreated but I will take care of him, whatever it takes.”
“Even living in sin with an innocent gal?”
“Certainly not. She has her own quarters.”
Mr. Barret’s snort carried a whole world of doubt.
“Grandfather Marshall is staying at the parsonage as well and he makes sure things are appropriate.” Hugh had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Barret momentarily stalled…briefly.
“It’s still mighty suspicious looking.”
Hugh understood the old man’s concerns. All the more reason to hope someone older would answer his ad. He knew it didn’t make sense but someone more mature and less attractive than Annie would invite less speculation. For Annie’s sake he should tell her to go home. But then who would look after Evan? Seemed he had no choice but to accept her help for the time being. Lord, protect her from gossip and send a more suitable woman.
He turned his thoughts back to the room he sat in. “You asked me to call. Was there a special reason?”
“Just figured you should be doing your job as the preacher and paying us poor old folk a visit more regularly.”
Of all the people Hugh served, this man made him feel the most inadequate. He supposed God had put the old man in his life to remind him of his failings and shortcomings.
He shared a Bible verse with Mr. Barret and prayed for his well-being before he took his departure. Back on the street, he turned immediately back toward home, anxious to know how Annie had managed without him.
Not that he had any real doubts about her abilities. At least until she was distracted by something beyond the four walls of his house. No, his concern was more because of not knowing how Evan would react to any given situation.
He slipped into the house through the office door, hung his coat on the nearby hook and hurried across the room. He ground to a halt at the sound of laughter. The deeper chuckle must be Grandfather, the lighthearted merry sound that drew longing and happiness from his heart would be Annie.
How long since he’d heard laughter in his home? Had he ever heard it? Not in this house where, until a few days ago, he had lived alone in somber silence. Perhaps before his brother Kenny died he’d heard it in his childhood home. Certainly not after that unfortunate day. There had been smiles and chuckles at the Caldwell house but not this kind of overflowing amusement.
He remained at the door, purposely eavesdropping on the moment. What were they laughing about?
“My turn,” Annie said and silence followed her words.
Hugh tiptoed into the next room, drawn by something stronger than he could explain. A need, a desire to witness what made her laugh.
She leaned over the table, the picture of concentration as she studied a pile of thin straw-like sticks stacked in the middle of the surface. They were playing pick-up sticks. Angled away from where Hugh stood, she did not notice him watching. Grandfather sat with his back to him.
“You know I’m better at this game than you are,” the old man said. “Always have been.” He turned to his right. “She thinks because I’m an old man she can beat me.” He chuckled. “You watch me prove her wrong.”
Hugh realized Grandfather talked to Evan. The boy pressed his back into the corner but had shifted about so he could watch the game.
Hugh’s heart warmed to see his son responding even this much. Up until now, he had avoided looking at anyone. Not wanting to spoil the moment, Hugh remained motionless.
Evan’s attention shifted to Annie whose hand hovered over the sticks. With poised finger and thumb she gingerly touched a stick and the whole pile shifted.
“Well, phooey.” She leaned back, her arms crossed in disgust.
Grandfather chuckled. “Tried to warn you.” He rubbed his hands in glee. “Now my turn. What do you think, Evan? Can I get a stick? Which one would you choose?”
Hugh held his breath, waiting, praying for some indication the boy understood and wished to participate. But Evan turned his head away and Hugh swallowed hard as disappointment and discouragement clawed at his insides.
Grandfather studied the pile, chose a stick and slowly lifted it off the stack. He crowed with victory when none of the sticks moved. “Beat that, young missy.”
She ticked her finger on the old man’s elbow. “Don’t be a gloating winner. Isn’t that what you and Pa and Mama always told us?”
Evan was again watching them and Hugh thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the boy’s eyes and then he noticed Hugh in the shadows and jerked back so quickly that Annie turned to see what had startled the boy.
“You’re back.” She pushed to her feet. “How was your visit? Do you want tea or co
ffee or did they serve you some?” She glanced back to the table, pink rushing up her neck and stalling at her chin. “We were playing a game. Supper is in the oven. It will be ready on time.”
She thought he would disapprove of how she spent her time? She couldn’t be more wrong. “Annie, you’re free to do what you like. I’m not judging you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Ah, but you are.” Before he could argue otherwise, she turned to fill the kettle and set it on the hottest part of the stove. “Tea or coffee?”
“Thank you. I’ll have whatever you and your grandfather want.”
“I feel like coffee,” Grandfather said. “I take it the Barrets didn’t offer you anything?” He must have meant the question to be rhetorical because he didn’t wait for Hugh to answer. “How are they?”
Hugh gave a few details of his visit, reminded again of how unfair this arrangement was to Annie. He should end it now, but how could he? He needed someone. And not just anyone. Someone who related to Evan as well as Annie and her grandfather did.
*
Annie swept the pile of sticks off the table and dropped them into a tin. Why should she feel guilty to be seen playing a game with Grandfather, especially when it created another way to draw out Evan? And yet she did because he was judging her. Four weeks—minus a day—to prove to him that she was right for this job. Only it wasn’t a job. If he found her satisfactory, it was a lifetime agreement. For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. That would include the sickness or health of his son. Poor little Evan who had watched her and Grandfather play pick-up sticks. She considered that well worth any censure with which Hugh viewed the pasttime.
Perhaps she needed to be less critical of herself too.
She made coffee and served it with cookies she had baked that very afternoon while Hugh had gone to visit the Barrets. Grandfather finished his coffee and retired to his chair with a book but soon the book fell to his lap and his head tipped to one side as he napped.
Annie watched him for a moment. She hated to think that he was getting old but last year he had gone out every day in the winter to check on the ranch activities. This year he seemed content, maybe even relieved, to stay indoors, close to the fire.