by Janet Dean
She ran her hand along the windowframe in need of a fresh coat of paint. The house needed restoring, much as the unwed mothers who would fill its rooms—each with her own story, her own struggles, each with a heart—in need of mending. Here they’d find peace, acceptance and God’s love. She’d see to that.
“I’m surprised that Martin’s accident hasn’t destroyed my love for this house, but, if anything, I cling to it more than before,” she said softly.
“I’ve never had a place to call home, but I can see how this house reminds you of happy times with your family.”
They both avoided the subject of that kiss and all it implied, pretending it meant nothing, when each small touch or glance sizzled. Still, more than attraction, more than that kiss connected them. She and Jacob knew the heartache of not having or losing family.
“You understand,” she said, knowing he did, yet wishing he didn’t. For that link was powerful.
As Jacob descended the ladder, her gaze locked with his. “I do.” He smiled—a gentle, encouraging gift. “In some ways the house is your security and your father-in-law’s adversary, or so he believes.”
“With Commodore dead set against my living here, if I didn’t love the house, I’d let it go rather than deal with his attitude. But the house means more to me than feeling at ease here. It provides plenty of room for Elise and her baby, and room for several unwed mothers who may need a harbor in the storm.”
“Tell me why you want to open your home to these girls.”
“They’re wounded and desperate. I know how desperate.” She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. “You see, my dearest friend, just sixteen years old, got with child. She and I were naive, barely knew the facts of life.” She gave a wistful smile. “Nell was beautiful. Red hair, blue eyes, full of life…”
Life was fragile.
“She fell hard for a college boy home for the summer. When he returned to school, he wrote that he was engaged to someone else. Nell was devastated. She never told me about the baby. She never told anyone.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Rather than face the shame of having a baby out of wedlock…”
The words stuck, but determined to make Jacob understand why she had to give these girls a home, she forced them out, each word scraping against her throat. “One night she slit her wrists and bled to death. Her baby died with her.”
The sorrow on his face threatened to undo her. Unable to hold his gaze, she studied her hands. “The day before Nell took her life, she’d been examined by a doctor.” She blinked rapidly, holding her tears at bay. “Otherwise, we’d have never known why she took her life.
“At her funeral, I made a promise. A promise that I’d never let another girl I knew go through that alone.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I intend to keep that promise. These girls need someone to care about them. Someone to listen to them. Someone to help them without judging them.”
Jacob cupped her face in his hands then drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry about your friend. What a tragedy. I understand why you want to help.”
That Jacob’s arms felt like home made Callie step away.
“But, Callie, others may not see it the same way. Housing unwed mothers will bring trouble. You’ve got a lot to handle as it is, without dealing with opposition from the community.”
“I can’t let public opinion sway me. Not when I believe this mission is from God.”
The skeptical look on his face only proved what she already knew. Jacob Smith didn’t have faith. Didn’t understand that God could speak through His Word, through listening to His quiet voice or by providing opportunities. Proving once again that Jacob Smith was exactly the wrong man for her.
“Why do you think you need to advise me?” She thrust the plaster mixture at him and stalked toward the door. “You can handle this job alone.”
Jake didn’t understand Callie at all. One minute, she’d been sharing memories, even a personal tragedy. The next, she’d stomped off like she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Well, he’d have no problem handling repairs to Callie’s ceiling alone. Though the job would take more time, as he ran up and down the ladder to mix and carry plaster.
Though he’d only been trying to help, his warnings upset her. Even if this was a mission from God, as she’d said, did that mean she couldn’t look at the facts? He’d seen enough of life and enough of this town to know that Peaceful wouldn’t allow her to give unwed mothers sanctuary without resistance. Trouble was brewing, starting with that biddy at church.
Yet he admired Callie’s dedication. Yes, and that very pretty mouth of hers. He sighed. How could a man think clearly when Callie Mitchell had stood mere inches away?
His heart tripped in his chest. If his mother had had someone like Callie in her life, someone to provide help instead of hindrances, perhaps she’d have kept him. Instead of leaving him in an orphanage, as if he wasn’t worth the turmoil he’d caused. Why had she made that decision? He couldn’t rest until he found the answer. Until he’d unlocked his past.
He just had to find the key.
Callie opened the newspaper to the Society page and a headline leaped off the page.
Callie Mitchell Opens Home to Fallen Girls
Mrs. Callie Mitchell hosted a dinner party in her home Tuesday evening, May 8. Guests in attendance were Sheriff and Mrs. Hal Frederick, Mrs. Mildred Uland, Miss Elise Langley, and newcomer Mr. Jacob Smith. Mrs. Mitchell’s menu included beef roast, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots and peas, dinner rolls and cherry pie.
Sources told this reporter that Mrs. Mitchell revealed that an unwed mother from out of town would soon take up residence in her home at 7133 Serenity Avenue. Mrs. Mitchell served a delicious meal, but her plans give this columnist indigestion.
News must be scant this week. Which of her guests had been the source? Certainly not Jacob. Elise was unlikely. That left the Fredericks or Mildred. Whoever was responsible, this item could be a blessing in disguise.
Callie had planned to wait until work on the house was completed before raising funds for the unwed mothers’ home, but this publicity would give her an opening she needed. Or breed more opposition. If so, what choice did she have? The time had come to seek community support. She’d go to the town fathers, to the newspaper with a plea for backing.
But first she’d talk to Pastor Steele. If trouble brewed, perhaps he’d help stem the tide of negative opinion.
Lord, again I ask, if this endeavor is in Your will, please provide as only You can.
No time like the present. She grabbed her purse, slapped her hat on her head, drove a hatpin through the crown, and then tugged on her gloves.
As she left the house, Jacob strode up the walk, his long strides swallowing the distance between them, a smile lighting up his face. He took her breath away.
“Looks like you’re heading out. Mind if I walk along? I need to stop at the Mercantile and get supplies to fix that chimney.”
“I’ll pay for them.” Callie dug through her purse. “Any idea how much?”
He laid a hand on hers. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I can afford to handle the expense of materials.” She frowned. “What I can’t afford is to pay you a wage.”
“Who’d want money and lose the great deal I have? I like eating at your table…” His gaze locked with hers. “…and having you near.”
The intensity of his regard rippled through her. “I…I like that, too.”
And she did. Too much. She forced a light tone. “I may not be back until time to fix supper. Don’t worry. You’ll get your next meal.”
“I look forward to it.”
Callie fought the desire to be that woman Jacob looked forward to. She wouldn’t get wrapped up in a man who didn’t love God.
They parted ways at the corner of Liberty and Serenity. He gave her one last lingering look, then turned west toward the Mitchell Mercantile. With her heart thudding in her chest, evidence that Jacob meant more to her than she
wanted to admit, she turned east toward the church.
She found Pastor Steele in his office, preparing his sermon for Sunday. She took the chair across from him.
He gave her a warm smile, the kind of smile that welcomed confidences. “What do you have on your mind, Callie?”
“Perhaps you read in the Society page that another unwed mother will soon arrive at my home.”
“I did.” He chuckled. “Which I suspect has something to do with why you’re here.”
Callie leaned forward in her chair. “I’m here to ask you to support my plan to house unwed mothers, to provide for their needs and give them shelter from reproach.”
“I applaud your plan. Too often these girls are thrown to the lions.” He sighed. “And the babies’ fathers go their merry way.” He fiddled with the fountain pen on his desk. “Has it occurred to you that Peaceful might not welcome this home?”
The concern in his eyes dampened Callie’s enthusiasm, but only for a moment. “I suspect a few will criticize, one in particular.”
“We both know who that would be.”
“But isn’t that always the case with something new?”
“You make a good point. Far be it from me to try to talk you out of what I believe is an important calling. But I need to warn you that it’s possible more than a few will oppose this.” He sighed. “Plenty of believers feel sinners deserve reproach. That they’ve broken God’s commandments and should be ostracized. They forget the command, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’”
How could she ask? “Could you preach a sermon that would take a stand welcoming these girls to our community?”
“I’ll preach on judging others, on forgiving others. Sermons based on God’s Word. I can’t endorse the unwed mothers’ home from the pulpit, but I’ll give my time and a donation and hope others will do the same.” He peered at her over his glasses, then shoved them up his nose. “Human nature being what it is, I’ll be praying this doesn’t divide our congregation.”
With the pastor’s prayers and her own, surely God wouldn’t allow that to happen. “I’ll do the same. I’d hoped everyone could see the value of helping these girls.”
“Everyone rarely agrees on anything, even the meaning of Scripture.” He grabbed a sheet of paper. “There’s much to consider here. If one of these girls leaves her baby after it’s born, just slips away in the dead of night, you’ll need the services of a lawyer.”
Pastor Steele’s words put a knot in Callie’s stomach. She hadn’t even considered such a possibility.
He wrote a name and address on the page. “I recommend a fine man in Indianapolis who can advise you. Write and explain what you’re planning. He’ll know the legalities involved.”
“Oh, thank you.” Callie took the sheet. “I’m going to have to keep you stocked in pie.”
“If any of these young women are struggling with tough issues like incest and rape, I’ll be available to counsel them. With God’s help, I’ll try to help them find peace.”
If only Nell had talked to her pastor.
Pastor Steele rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I suppose you could find yourself housing a prostitute.” Callie gasped.
“You’ll need to make the rules crystal clear. Nothing illegal or immoral can go on while those young women are under your roof.”
She’d need a list of house rules. Something she hadn’t considered.
Pastor Steele took a look at Callie’s face, then came around the desk and perched on the corner. “God has called you to this, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore the important details of such an undertaking.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. And act on.” She released a breath. “I feel overwhelmed.”
He smiled. “I feel the same way much of the time.”
“All I know to do is take it one girl, one day at a time.”
“When we’re doing God’s work, we can expect opposition. But these women will be blessed to have you on their side.” He pulled a chair next to hers. “Shall we pray about this unwed mothers’ home? Ask God to provide everything you need to make it a reality, including wisdom and support.”
After the prayer, Callie left the church filled with peace. They’d asked God for His help. With His power, she’d strive to anticipate and deal with every obstacle, every problem. But, ultimately, the outcome rested with Him.
Pastor Steele would prepare hearts and counsel those who needed him. Mildred would donate funds to support it—Callie was sure of it. Perhaps even Commodore would contribute items to clothe fatherless babies.
Callie headed home, eager to share Pastor Steele’s reaction with Elise. Perhaps even with Jacob. He’d lived in an orphanage. Surely he’d be pleased to hear that the pastor had given her counsel and supported her plan.
Jake finished his errand in town and arrived back at Callie’s house, toting a bag of cement. A load of bricks would be delivered tomorrow. He saw no activity around the place, then remembered that Elise was visiting her mother. Callie hadn’t returned from town. And shouldn’t for a while, giving him the perfect opportunity to examine the newspapers.
He entered the house by the back door and strode to the main hall, then on toward the library. The door was closed. Not unusual with Callie’s dislike of clutter. Inside he discovered that the piles had been separated by decades. Much easier to find what he wanted. Within minutes he found the year and month of his birth. To make sure he didn’t miss a birth announcement, he’d check June as well.
He carried a stack to a chair and went over each one with painstaking care, searching for anything that would give him a clue to his identity.
And came up with nothing.
No one by the name of Smith appeared to have lived in the town. Had his mother given him an alias when she left him at the orphanage? If that were true, what was the likelihood that she’d stay in town to give birth? The only baby born on May 21, 1877 was a girl. If that was even the year he was born.
He rose and returned the stack to the desk. What to do next? With the newspapers a dead end, he’d talk to Mildred Uland, the woman most likely to know town gossip, especially from twenty-three years ago.
“What are you doing?”
Jake jerked toward the open door. Callie. He hadn’t heard her enter the room. He stepped away from the desk. “I uh, thought I’d kill some time looking at these newspapers. Hope you don’t mind.”
Her accusing gaze locked with his. “Why didn’t you ask permission?”
“I didn’t think it mattered.” He took in her tight mouth and the pucker between her slim brows. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
She shoved back her shoulders. “Why go behind my back? I would have gladly shown you the papers.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be upset.”
“After that kiss… After what we’ve shared, I thought I could trust you. Obviously, I was wrong.”
Jake wanted to deny her claim, to tell her she could trust him. To tell her the reason he needed to look at the newspapers. But if he did, she’d want to know more. He couldn’t risk telling her everything.
By the look in her eyes, he’d not only made her mad, he’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to, but saying that wouldn’t impress Callie. If anything, his denial would make her angrier.
A man’s actions proved his trustworthiness.
From the frown puckering her brow and the icy chill in her eyes, she wanted him gone. He had money enough to stay somewhere else, but he wanted to be here, to make this house habitable for her and for Elise. With that crumbling, faulty chimney that risked their safety, he had to say something to ease her disquiet.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first.” He motioned to the newspapers. “I was looking for information on the Odd Fellows’ building downtown. The edifice is unique, made me think of the work of an architect my boss talked about.”
The guardedness in her eyes didn’t ease.
He’d just lied to Callie. And she knew it.
&
nbsp; “I want you to leave.”
Her words cut into him like a knife. “I can’t. Not yet. The chimney isn’t safe. If it isn’t fixed, you risk being overcome by carbon monoxide.”
A flash of consternation swept across her face. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing you go. But I need to ensure the house’s safety.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We’ll forget this happened.” She turned to go, then pivoted back. “This time.”
He heard the warning. She’d given him another chance.
If only he’d been able to tell Callie the real reason he’d needed to look at the newspapers. But if he did, she’d want to help. She’d want to get involved. She’d want to get close.
And that meant she’d learn the truth. The truth of who Jacob Smith really was. That he’d spent almost a year in prison. That Smith might not even be his real name. That a jury of his peers had judged him a loser.
But when Callie had looked at him, he’d seen a different reflection in her eyes. A faith in him that made him feel seven feet tall, instead of like a lowly worm. She’d made him believe in himself, something he’d lost.
If she discovered that he was a former convict, that look of respect he’d seen in her eyes would disappear forever. Better to endure her ire, and hope she’d forgive him, than lose her regard.
Callie watched Jacob leave the house and walk to the barn. His shoulders hunched like he carried the weight of the world on his back. She felt the same way. Until he repaired the chimney, she would try to put the incident with Jacob behind her.
What choice did she have? Unless the flue was repaired, fumes could kill them all this winter. She couldn’t take such a risk. A list of jobs he’d planned to do paraded through her mind. The windows on the north side of the house needed replacing. The house needed to be scraped and it needed a coat of paint. Nothing hazardous there, but the possibility that the house wouldn’t be returned to its former glory sank inside her.