Wanted: A Family

by Janet Dean

  As he hauled manure to Callie’s garden, Jake bent into a gust of wind. Except for an occasional fast-moving cloud obstructing the warmth of the sun, the breezy day was pleasant, invigorating. Spring carried the promise of new beginnings. New beginnings he wanted but couldn’t see, not with the shadow of prison eclipsing his every tomorrow.

  He glanced toward the stoop where Callie washed clothes. Even from here, he could feel the tension between them, as thick and high as fortifications at the penitentiary. Her anger last night made it perfectly clear. Callie didn’t want advice from him. She didn’t want anything from him.

  She heaved a heaping laundry basket to her middle, wrestling with it. He dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow and loped toward her. At his approach, she tilted her chin in that stubborn way of hers, as if she’d refuse his help.

  Maybe if he started small, helping with the laundry, he could restore the harmony between them. “Let me carry that basket.”

  “If you insist.” Callie looked away, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  “I do.” He took the basket from her arms.

  Callie pivoted and headed for the clothesline stretching between two poles, leaving him to follow along behind.

  With hammer and nails, he’d taken care of the hazards threatening the women in the house. He could fix any object with the right tools, but he didn’t know what it would take to fix things with Callie.

  Jake watched the sway of her hips, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms. But after the way they’d parted last night, she wouldn’t welcome his embrace. Callie understood the futility of building a relationship with a man like him.

  At the clothesline, he lowered the basket to the ground. She reached for a lump of white just as he did. Their hands collided, zipping a flash of attraction from the tips of his fingers to the base of his spine.

  “I’ll do that,” he said. Before she could protest, he pulled a sheet from the pile and unfurled it. The wind caught the cotton, whipping it in the air between them.

  Callie grabbed clothespins from her apron pocket and pegged the first corner to the line, then the middle. When she jabbed the last pin in place, the sheet hung between them, a wall of sorts. They were in close proximity, but miles apart.

  Sometimes Callie’s determination to handle things alone had Jake clamping his jaw in exasperation. Perhaps, married to Martin, she’d had to do everything on her own and knew no other way. Was he any different? Empathy for this woman, a survivor like him, made him long to pull Callie into his arms.

  Jake stomped past the sheet, determined to do that very thing, determined to tell her how much he cared. One glance at her belly stopped him. Her child would need a father. Jake had no idea how to handle that role. Getting out of her life was the kindest thing he could do. The fact that he cared about her kept his arms at his sides. His mouth closed.

  He yanked a towel from the stack and draped it over the line. She pegged. He draped. Neither spoke, yet the air fairly crackled with friction as every touch and glance burned into Jake’s awareness like a hot branding iron.

  When he could stand the tension no longer, he threw up his hands. “Callie, why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”

  She whirled toward him. “What’s the point? You’ll do what you please, no matter what I say.”

  A cloud covered the sun, throwing them in shadow. He took a step closer. “You’re putting barriers between us and not just with this laundry. You know I’d stay if I could.”

  “I know no such thing. You have no job to go to. No family waiting for your return. For once, drop the pretense and be honest. With me. With yourself.”

  Her words slashed at him. He hadn’t been honest with her. He hid his past and his purpose the same way that cloud overhead hid the sun. Perhaps he could tell her why he’d come to town. Why he kept his past a secret. And she’d react differently than others had.

  She turned back, as if she meant to talk to him, then her gaze fastened on something in the yard.

  A few feet away, he spotted a baby robin hunched in the grass, its little beak opening and closing with soft chirps. The mother hovered nearby, fluttering her wings, panicked or maybe merely showing her offspring what to do. From the looks of it, the baby didn’t get the message.

  “Jake. Look.” Callie pointed across the lawn.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Stripes slink forward, eyes locked on its prey. The mother robin flapped her wings, hopped closer, alarmed by the stalking feline, but the baby bird remained huddled on the ground.

  Callie crouched down, trying to shoo the cat away. Stripes kept coming.

  Slowly, Jake moved toward the birds, then squatted in the grass. The baby bird looked weak, defenseless, its feathers stirring in the breeze. The mother robin flitted about, her dark, beady eyes on Jake. Wary. Scared.

  “Do you think he’s hurt?” Callie lowered herself in the space beside Jake.

  “I don’t think so.” He kept his voice soft and low, but still the mother robin’s gaze held trepidation. The baby let out a squawk. “Falling is part of learning to fly.”

  “What if he’s not ready yet? Maybe he needs to go back to the nest.”

  “Maybe.”

  Jake studied the baby bird. Under its thin skin and feathers, he could see the delicate bones that would one day carry this small bird through the sky. At times like this, Jake marveled at the order and beauty of nature. Could a Master Planner have designed this world?

  Callie laid a hand on his arm. Her gentle touch slid through him. “You need to put him back. I’d do it, but…” She waved at her belly. “Will you, Jake?”

  That Callie needed him for more than repairs to her house filled some ache inside him. Still, moving the bird might not be the right solution. “We need to give him a chance to fly. We’ll chase off the cat—”

  “Stripes will come back.” Worry flooded her eyes. “I can’t bear to think of him down here, helpless, with the cat out there, watching. Waiting.”

  “If I touch it, the mother may not accept the fledgling.”

  “The mother can’t get it back in the nest. Someone has to.” She turned pleading eyes on him. “Isn’t it better to try than to let the cat get it?”

  He glanced at the baby she carried inside her. He couldn’t do anything for that baby, but he could do something for this baby bird.

  He edged forward, one small step at a time. The mother bird flapped her wings, squawked a protest, but Jake kept closing in. The mother froze. Watched. Her heart beat so fast that Jake could see it through her breast. Stripes stepped closer and closer. With one last glance at her baby, the robin took flight and perched on a branch above his head.

  Yanking his gloves from his back pocket, Jake shoved his hands inside, reached down, scooped up the trembling baby bird, and cradled it in his hand. It weighed almost nothing.

  The warm smile Callie sent Jake slid through him, easing the impasse between them. “Any idea where the nest is?”

  She pointed behind him. “Up in that tree.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, the robin flew to a branch far above him. Jake grabbed a low limb and clamored up the trunk, heaving himself along with one hand and holding the bird in the other until he reached the spot where the robin waited. There he found her nest balanced between two branches, a miracle of twigs, dried grasses and loose threads. Occupied with two chirping siblings, beaks open wide, ready for a meal.

  As he gently deposited the outcast alongside his family, Jake grasped in that moment that one of nature’s creatures had placed its trust in him.

  Him. Of all people.

  He retraced his path, much easier with both hands free, then jumped to the ground. A foot away, Stripes sat on her haunches, eyeing Jake with reproach. “You’re a mom. Shame on you.”

  Relief plain on her face, Callie chuckled. “Stripes is not happy.”

  Jake removed his gloves and stuffed them back into his hip pocket. “The wandere
r is back in the nest.”

  “Thank you,” Callie said then threw her arms around Jake, burrowing into him with a sob.

  What was wrong? The bird was safe. Who would’ve thought a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest would bring this self-sufficient woman to tears? Yet that Callie needed him, even for a moment, slid through Jake. Filled with a sense of the rightness of having Callie in his arms, he rubbed her back, murmuring an endearment near her ear.

  She jerked away, wiped her tears with both hands and shot up her chin. Back to her strong independent self. Unwilling to rely on him for anything. Anything except repairs.

  “The baby bird would most likely have survived,” he said. “Mother birds push fledglings out of the nest because they know the time has come to try their wings. It’s what’s best for them.”

  Callie’s eyes locked with his, in their depths Jake saw tenderness. For him? “Do you think it’s possible, Jake, that sometimes… Sometimes human mothers do the same thing?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I’m saying a mother may do what she sees as best for her baby, but the child may not see her actions that way.”

  Callie’s words held a significance she wanted him to grasp. Why wouldn’t a child understand his mother’s actions? Unless…

  As understanding dawned, he wrestled with the insight.

  “You think my mother believed that giving me up was the best choice for me?”

  “It might have been. You don’t know what she faced. What your life would have been like if she hadn’t given you up.”

  The ground shifted under his feet, as if the earth had moved on its axis. Jake saw the truth with sudden clarity. “All these years, I’ve resented her decision. Until I know her circumstances, I can’t say her decision was right or wrong.”

  Callie touched his face with a gentle palm, offering approval or maybe solace.

  “That insight came through a baby bird. And you, Callie, the most merciful person I’ve ever met. You’ve taught me by your example how to live.” He laid his hand over hers. “I need to give my mother the same clemency.”

  A smile bloomed on Callie’s face. The beauty of it socked Jake in the gut. He wanted nothing to stand between him and this special woman. A woman he trusted enough to divulge his stint in prison, his search for his mother.

  Grace called to Callie from the house.

  Callie gave her a wave, then pivoted to Jake. “You’re a good man, Jacob Smith. God is working on you.” She gave him a smile, then walked to the stoop, tucked an arm around Grace’s waist and walked her inside the house.

  As Jake tramped toward the barn, filled with gratitude that the incident with the birds had led not only to an understanding about his mother, but to an easing of the rift between him and Callie.

  One thing stood between them, a Grand Canyon of an impasse. He didn’t believe in God. If only he had Callie’s faith.

  Perhaps the amazing order of nature wasn’t an accident. Perhaps everything in this world had been designed by a Higher Power. If so, that lesson would outweigh all the others.

  Jake had doubts. Still, he would examine them. Open that Bible of his. And see where it led.

  Callie stared out the back kitchen window facing the tree Jacob had climbed that morning to return a lost baby robin to the nest. Sometimes she felt just as lost, unsure which way to turn. Had she been foolish to test her wings with this unwed mothers’ home when her own baby’s arrival was imminent?

  The incident with the baby bird had made Callie realize that she wasn’t taking care of her own baby as well as she’d thought. She’d put other things first, before her own child. That sense of failure had driven her sobbing into Jacob’s arms. Her mind was a jumble of confusion. Her emotions were in shambles.

  In such a state, how had she thought she could help Elise and Grace? Or any other unwed mother who appeared at her door?

  Laying her hands on either side of her abdomen, Callie bowed her head. Lord, give me wisdom. Help me put my baby’s welfare first. Enable me to make plans that ensure his well-being, not put him at risk.

  Her baby had lost his father. Her breath caught. Had God brought Jacob into her life for that very reason? Not that she’d fall in love with an unbeliever, but she felt Jacob’s softening toward God. Saw it in his attentive posture during Pastor Steele’s sermons. Saw it in his growing forgiveness toward his birth mother. Saw it in his kindness toward Elise and, of late, Grace.

  Callie glanced at the plate of food warming on the stove. Grace had skipped the noon meal, not something an expectant mother should do. If nothing else, perhaps God gave Callie this mission to ensure that Grace got proper nourishment.

  Holding the plate, Callie walked upstairs and rapped on Grace’s door. “It’s Callie. May I come in?”

  The door opened a crack. “What do you want?”

  “I brought your food up. You need to eat.”

  The door widened. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Please, eat anyway, for my sake. If you don’t, I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.”

  The door swung open. Callie breathed a sigh of relief. Grace looked pale, defenseless as if she didn’t have the strength to keep on her feet. “No one has ever cared about me enough to lose sleep.”

  Callie set the plate of food on Grace’s nightstand then put an arm around her. “I’m sorry you’ve never had someone in your life who cared.”

  Stepping away from Callie’s arms, Grace turned to the bed, smoothed a wrinkle from the quilt with her palms. “Not many folks worry about a servant.”

  Underneath those quiet words, Callie heard Grace’s resignation to her status in life, as if her job determined her worth. She had to make Grace understand that God loved her. And that made her a person of significance. But food for the body came first. “Eat while it’s still warm.”

  Amazingly, Grace sat on the edge of the bed and took a bite of the chicken and noodles. “You’re a good cook.”

  “I don’t feel like much of a cook when you can’t keep your feet under my table.”

  Suspicion rode in her eyes. “So why are you doing this? What’s in this unwed mothers’ home for you?”

  Perhaps Grace had seen through her and suspected that her motives weren’t entirely selfless. “I thought I wanted this home because of what happened to a friend of mine. But it’s possible I want it so I can surround myself with people and forget the losses I’ve had, the loneliness.”

  Grace’s gaze darted to her plate. As if Callie’s admission was a hot potato she couldn’t juggle.

  This young woman needed to share her wounds with someone. If she chose to confide in her, Callie prayed her response wouldn’t make matters worse.

  While she ate, Grace looked at Callie’s wedding ring. “What happened to your husband?”

  “He passed away last November.”

  Toying with the band, Callie admitted that her marriage had been a disappointment. She’d been both wife and mother to Martin. Some days she’d felt more like a warden, trying to keep tabs on his whereabouts, his choices. He hadn’t understood that she hated that role. Oddly, he’d never blamed her for taking it. She wondered why she still wore his ring. Maybe she saw it as a badge of legitimacy for her baby.

  Grace took a sip of milk, then set down her glass. “That’s tough. I thought maybe you and Jake… I noticed a spark between you.”

  Callie gulped. Was the attraction between them that obvious? What did it matter? Nothing good would come from furtive glances, pounding hearts or stolen kisses. She wouldn’t care about Jacob. She wouldn’t care about another man who deceived. But even as that thought came to her, Callie knew it was already too late. She did care about Jacob Smith. But she’d never let him know.

  “Jacob will be moving on.” She forced a smile. “But thanks to him, this house is livable. I have much to be thankful for.”

  Grace took the last mouthful on her fork, wiped her lips then dropped the napkin on the plate. “I’m not
interested in a list of your blessings.”

  Grace used that sharp tongue of hers to keep people at a distance. If Callie hadn’t cared about Grace, hadn’t taken the time to look into her weary eyes laden with pain, she’d never have seen past that wall she’d erected. Grace was wounded. What could Callie do to help?

  The young woman rose and set the dishes outside the door, as if unable to tolerate one tiny thing out of place, then walked back to Callie, her expression closed. “Thanks for the meal.”

  Callie smiled. “You’re very welcome.”

  “I’m sure you have things to do.” She glanced at the door, an invitation to leave.

  But Callie wasn’t budging. Not yet. “What happened to your parents, Grace?”

  As if her legs gave way, Grace sank to the mattress. “They died.”

  Callie sat beside her. “What did you do then?”

  “I lived on the streets, like thousands of immigrant kids.” Her brown eyes, dark as storm clouds, met Callie’s. “No matter what Jake says, an orphanage is better than sleeping in alleys, huddling together for warmth, eating garbage.”

  A huge lump formed in Callie’s throat. Trying to clear it and the image Grace’s words evoked in her mind, she swallowed convulsively. “That explains why you’re upset with Jacob.”

  She sighed. “I’m not. Not anymore. I haven’t walked in his shoes.”

  This young woman had endured a horrid life. Worse, Callie suspected that what Grace had told her revealed only the tip of the iceberg, that more was frozen below the surface.

  “If we all did that, this world would be a better place.” Callie faced Grace and took her cold hand. “I want you to know that you’re a child of God. That makes you worthy. Servant and master, rich and poor, all are the same in the eyes of God.”

  Tears sprang to Grace’s eyes. She squared her shoulders, obviously fighting powerful feelings inside her. Callie waited.

  Grace swiped at her eyes. “So what happened to that friend you mentioned?”

  Changing the subject, another tactic Grace used to put the focus on anyone, anything, but her. Well, Grace deserved to know. She explained Nell’s pregnancy and suicide.