by Arlene James
“Just don’t take off like that again,” he scolded before looking to Odelia. “I’m sorry. She got away from us.”
“You are so in for it,” chortled the freckle-faced, gap-toothed boy being physically restrained by Phillip.
“No, she is not,” Odelia decreed, smiling down at her little guest, “but perhaps next time, she will seek permission before she goes exploring.”
“Yes, ma’am,” coached the older boy with glasses. Reaching around Phillip, he poked the girl.
“Yes, ma’am,” little Grace echoed dutifully.
“Very well,” Odelia said, waving them all out. “We’ll make formal introductions at luncheon.”
As Phillip towed the children away, he said, “I’m not sure what Hilda has planned for lunch.”
“Whatever it is,” Odelia told him brightly, following their ragtag little group into the sitting room, “I’m sure it will be lovely.”
After a season of weddings, they had experienced a tranquil period at Chatam House. First had come the marriage of Phillip’s older brother, Asher, and Kent’s granddaughter Ellie, whose newborn daughter the family had recently welcomed. Chatam House’s gardener, Garrett Willows, and his Jessa had married almost immediately afterward, with Odelia and Kent’s wedding following just one month later. Shortly after that, Phillip’s oldest sister, Petra, had married Garrett’s friend Dale Bowen.
Two other nephews, Reeves and Chandler, and a niece, Kaylie, had met their spouses here at Chatam House. It had been months since the house had hosted company, however. Then Phillip had arrived, for no apparent reason, and here he remained, much to the disgust of his parents and the concern of his aunts. The boy just did not seem to want to work. Oh, he wasn’t lazy; he just had no direction. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of inspiration to strike—or for some grand adventure to present itself.
Hypatia was of the opinion that they had been more than patient with him. Certainly she and her sisters had been praying for him. Watching him now, Odelia couldn’t help wondering what God had in store for Phillip. One thing she knew without doubt was that God always had a plan for His children.
She suspected that Phillip was about to find that out.
* * *
When Carissa Hopper did not return as expected that evening, Phillip was ready to climb the walls. He had scaled mountains less challenging than dealing with three kids! While little Grace beguiled everyone into getting her way, Tucker treated the mansion like his personal playground, haring off without warning. Nathan, meanwhile, remained solemn, suspicious and openly hostile, especially toward Phillip. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it bothered Phillip. People usually liked him. Then again, he didn’t have much experience with children. In fact, if anyone had told him that he’d have to work so hard to keep three youngsters from tearing the house down, he’d have scoffed. How Carissa Hopper had somehow managed to shelter, feed, clothe and survive this trio all alone for years was a mystery to him.
Hilda and Chester insisted that it wasn’t like Carissa to lose track of time or forget to call, but their phone calls to her went unanswered. Someone—Hypatia probably—alerted Phillip’s baby sister, Dallas. She showed up with her short, curly, carrot-red hair held back by a wide headband. She looked a little thin to him but oddly serene. A second-grade teacher, Dallas waded right in, taking control of the children and leaving Phillip free to enjoy his dinner. When Chester came into the dining room immediately after the meal, everyone knew that something was wrong. Dressed as always in a white shirt, black tie, black slacks and black lace-up shoes, Chester looked worried, a hand smoothing over his nearly bald head.
“Carissa has been at the emergency room with her father. Now they’re back home. I’m going to take some food over to them and try to convince Carissa to let the children stay here for the night.”
He and Hilda lived with Hilda’s sister, Carol, the aunties’ maid, in the converted carriage house behind the mansion. Grace, Chester explained, could bunk with Carol for the night, leaving the small attic room, once occupied by the gardener, for the boys to share.
“Phillip can drive you over to your brother’s,” Odelia suggested to Chester. “I think you’re too worried to go alone.”
“Be glad to,” Phillip said, rising from the table.
Chester didn’t argue and merely nodded his head, an indication of just how worried he was.
They left a few minutes later and drove across town to an older apartment complex that had seen better days. Chester led the way to a ground-floor apartment that opened onto a depressingly bare inner courtyard. It never occurred to Phillip that he might have waited in the car until Carissa opened the door. The dismay on her face when she saw Phillip standing behind Chester left no doubt as to her thoughts on his presence there.
“Come inside,” she said unenthusiastically.
The tiny vestibule opened on one side into a narrow living room and on the other into a dining room, with space large enough for only a small table and two chairs. Both rooms were strewn with toys and packed with boxes and wobbly furniture. The place seemed barely large enough for two people in Phillip’s estimation, let alone five.
“How is Marshall?” Chester asked, handing over the bag filled with containers of Hilda’s food.
“They wanted to keep him in the hospital,” Carissa said, “but he wouldn’t have it.”
“All I needed was a breathing treatment,” grated a raspy voice. Phillip saw a wheelchair roll into view from the dining area.
“Dad, you should be in bed.”
Marshall braced his skeletal elbows on the arms of his old manual wheelchair and shook his head, wheezing with effort. “And you should be in a nice three-bedroom brick house in Dallas, but here we both are in this two-bedroom dump. Introduce me to this young man.”
Carissa sighed and beckoned Phillip forward. “This is Phillip Chatam. Phillip, my father, Marshall Worth.”
Phillip reached out a large, strong hand. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Marshall’s thin, veined hand trembled. “You must be a nephew of those sisters, the triplets, that my brother works for.”
“Yes, sir, I am. One of many.”
Marshall waved a hand at his daughter, saying, “Sugar, put that food in the kitchen. Chester, take a load off.” He pointed to a dining chair. Niece and uncle traded looks and did as instructed.
“Phillip, I’m dying,” Marshall Worth said bluntly, “and this cancer’s taken everything I ever had. I’ll have nothing but rags and sticks to leave my daughter and grandchildren.”
“Daddy,” Carissa said, zipping back into the room, “that’s not important.”
“Chester and Hilda will do everything they can,” Marshall went on, as if she hadn’t even spoken, “and Carissa’s a hard worker, but she barely makes enough to feed them all.”
“Daddy, don’t worry,” Carissa pleaded.
“I can’t die without knowing you’ll have help,” he told her tiredly.
“Daddy!”
“Don’t concern yourself, sir,” Phillip interjected, leaning down to place a hand on the man’s rail-thin shoulder. “She won’t be alone or without help. You have my word as a Chatam.”
Tears filled Marshall Worth’s rheumy eyes, and he nodded with relief.
“Chatams are good people, so if you say it, I believe it,” he rasped.
“Believe it, sir. Your daughter and grandchildren will be fine.” He smiled. “I’m told that Carissa has strong computer skills, after all.”
“That she does,” Marshall agreed with a chuckle. “Not much business sense, though.”
“Dad!”
“But she’s a good mother and a fine daughter,” he added, “and she’s not hard on the eyes, either.”
“You slight her, sir,” Phillip said, just to rankle her. “She�
�s a rare beauty.”
Her back stiffened, then she relaxed again and swept through the narrow kitchen to the other bedroom. There couldn’t be another in the apartment, which meant that she probably shared it with all three of her children. Phillip realized just how blessed he was to have Chatam House as a haven in his time of trouble.
“I’m tired, brother,” Marshall said, sounding it. “Help me to bed.”
Chester rose and took his brother’s chair by the handles, saying, “Afterward, we’ll have a word of prayer together. Then I want you to eat.”
“I’d like that,” Marshall told him, seeming to shrink before Phillip’s eyes. “Prayer and Hilda’s good food. Nothing I’d like better. Goodbye, young man.” Not good-night but goodbye.
“Goodbye, sir.”
Phillip stood awkwardly for a moment before Carissa came back through the kitchen. “Walk me to my car?”
She didn’t want to. He knew it by the way she hesitated, but she couldn’t find a graceful way to decline. “All right.”
As they strolled along the inner courtyard, Phillip couldn’t help noting the buckling concrete of the sidewalk, the overgrown shrubbery, the disintegrating fence around the trash Dumpster and the flaking paint on the metal stairs at the corner of the building. There he paused and turned to face her, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“My aunts want to keep the children at Chatam House tonight. They can stay in the carriage house with Chester, Hilda and Carol. When your father is better tomorrow, you can pick them up and bring them home.”
Carissa took a deep breath. “Well,” she said, “that might work, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“My father’s not going to be better,” she said softly.
Phillip couldn’t resist the urge to slide an arm across her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She slowly slipped out from beneath his embrace, saying, “I’d better go pack a bag for the kids.”
He was surprised that she’d given in so easily and wondered if she had done so just because she was anxious to get away from him. The thought pinched in a way he hadn’t expected, but he reminded himself that her father was gravely ill. And that he had given his word to a dying man.
He would keep his word. Whether Carissa Hopper liked it or not.
But obviously, Carissa Hopper was not the woman for him. Or rather, he was not the man for her.
She needed a solid, serious, responsible man, the kind his parents had always wanted him to be. But that wasn’t him, had never been Phillip Chatam. And never would be.
Chapter Three
Marshall Worth lapsed into a coma during the night and was transported to the hospital the next day. The children remained at Chatam House, but with Chester staying close by them, waiting for news. Phillip tried to make good on his promise to Mr. Worth and consulted his older brother, Asher, an attorney, on Carissa’s behalf. Asher promised to look into the possibility of government assistance for her and her children, then he invited Phillip—and his résumé—to lunch.
Phillip dutifully went along, though he knew what was coming. Sure enough, his brother had asked a friend with a local accounting firm if he had any openings. It made sense, after all. Phillip was good with numbers. He was good with bookkeeping. He was even good with money. It was the whole idea of being an accountant, someone else’s bean counter, in a nine-to-five job that made Phillip’s skin crawl. Before Asher could suggest that Phillip apply for a position, Phillip changed the subject to an article that he’d read while he’d sat in Asher’s office, waiting for Asher to finish a phone call.
The article had mentioned a new smartphone app that allowed its purchasers to “test drive” possible employment fields. According to the article, a new field of reality apps allowed people to follow a day in the life of a number of professions, be it a baker, a truck driver, a plumber or a diesel mechanic. The purchase price seemed steep to Phillip, but he supposed it was worth it if it prevented a person from spending the time and money to educate him or herself for a career he or she ultimately didn’t like.
Asher listened then unceremoniously informed him that Carissa made just enough money to make her ineligible for government assistance because she did not pay rent. If she could come up with the funds to get into an apartment of her own, then she could qualify for government assistance.
Phillip headed home to discuss the situation with Hilda and Chester, only to find the entire household in the front parlor with Carissa and her kids, all of whom openly wept. Tucker stood at his mother’s side, literally howling.
“What’s happened?” Phillip asked, already knowing.
Little Grace hopped down off her mother’s lap and ran toward him. Phillip instinctively reached down to take her up into his arms. She buried her damp face in the crook of his neck and sobbed. Tucker draped himself around his mother’s neck and continued bawling, while Nathan stood stoically, tears rolling unimpeded from beneath the lenses of his glasses.
Hypatia turned a sad face to him from her usual armchair, a teacup in her hand. As always, she could have stood in for the Queen of England, her silver hair styled into a sleek roll against the back of her head, her ubiquitous pearls worn with a tailored silk suit. “Marshall Worth has slipped from this world into Paradise,” she announced softly.
“Perfectly healed,” Kent added in a gentle voice, his arm about Odelia on the settee.
“A brand-new body,” Odelia whispered, encased in a cloud of blue chiffon.
“Without pain,” Magnolia offered, patting Nathan’s shoulder. She had come in without removing the yellow galoshes that she always wore when working in the gardens.
“That’s what we have to remember now,” Chester said in a tear-clogged voice, putting away a handkerchief.
“That’s our consolation,” Hilda agreed. She mopped her face with her apron, sniffed and all but wailed, “I should start dinner!” before trundling from the room. Carol followed.
Chester shook his head then said, “She isn’t thinking clearly,” and he went after her.
A collective sigh filled the air. A moment later, Nathan jerked away and ran from the room. Carissa calmly set Tucker onto his feet and, after a moment of uncertainty, looked to Phillip. He desperately wanted to open his arms and pull them both in, but he knew what she needed from him, so he lifted his hand to Tucker alone. The boy stumbled into his side and wrapped his arms around Phillip’s waist. Phillip awkwardly patted the boy’s back, and Carissa quietly went after her oldest son.
When he turned again to his aunts, they were staring as if he’d grown a second pair of arms. All but Odelia, who clasped her beringed hands beneath her double chin and, for some reason, smiled at him as if he’d hung the moon.
* * *
Carissa and the children stayed the night at Chatam House, not in the building out back where Chester and Hilda lived with Hilda’s sister, Carol, but in the main house, in a three-bedroom, three-bath suite upstairs that was bigger and far finer than her father’s old apartment. The Chatam sisters had suggested it, and Carissa had let herself be talked into it. Partly because she was too tired to argue, but mostly because she didn’t think the children ought to go back to the apartment so soon after their grandfather’s death. It seemed best to get through the next few days first.
Plucking at the black T-shirt that she’d tucked into the waist of her denim skirt, she sighed and asked, “Do you think this is all right to wear to the funeral home?”
“I think it’s fine,” Phillip told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She had twisted it into a bun low on her neck, but no matter what she did, wisps escaped. Someday she would have money for a decent haircut.
“Maybe I should tie a scarf around my hair.”
“No.” He curled a finger beneath her chin and
tilted her face up. “You look lovely just as you are.”
Despite the luxury of having had a room and a bed entirely to herself, she was too tired to scold herself for enjoying the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about the kids,” he told her. “I’ll sit right here in the suite with them until they wake. Then I’ll send them down to Hilda for breakfast.”
“I’ve laid out their clothes.”
“Don’t worry.”
“They can dress themselves.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Uncle Chester says it won’t take long.” She bit her lip to stop its trembling.
Phillip leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “Don’t. Worry.”
But how could she not? Funerals cost money, which she didn’t have. Despite her best efforts, tears suddenly streamed down her face. Phillip said nothing, just gathered her loosely against him until she regained control. It would be so easy to lean on him. He had promised her father, after all, that she wouldn’t be alone after his death, but she knew better than to hold him to that promise. Phillip had been pledging the support of the Chatams, not him personally. She pushed him away, grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the suite as fast as she could.
Chester, the Chatam sisters and Kent waited for her in the foyer downstairs. What a trio the sisters were, Hypatia all elegance in her silk and pearls, her silver hair expertly styled, Odelia flamboyant in eye-popping prints and oversize jewelry, her shockingly white hair curling with abandon, and Magnolia looking like a bag lady in her moth-eaten shirtwaists, her steel-gray braid hanging over her shoulder. Surprised to find them dressed to go out, their handbags dangling from their elbows, Carissa automatically protested.
“Ladies, Uncle Chester and I can take care of this.”
Hypatia shook her elegant silver head. “Your uncle has been an enormous part of our lives for many years. We would never abandon him in his hour of need.”
“Oh, of course.”
They did far more than “not abandon” Chester, however. They made suggestions that helped trim costs without sacrificing the dignity of the service, including offering Chatam House to hold the reception at afterward. It shamed Carissa to have to ask the funeral director if he could provide a payment plan, but she had no choice.