Protected (Jacobs Family Series Book 2)

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Everything that’s happened since Nina and Jules died—Joshua coming into my life, getting sick, and…” her hand fluttered out taking in herself, the baby, their jackets hanging near the back door.

  She wanted to add how she felt about Travis, but this was his mother she was talking to. The woman was so perceptive she probably suspected anyway.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Erin mumbled. “It’s like seeing a lot of puzzle pieces from the back. I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

  Barbara reached across the table and covered Erin’s hand with her own.

  Erin looked down, and the image of their hands moved something in her chest.

  Something that had been hard and achy for nearly two years.

  Something Joshua had melted the ice around, and Travis had come dangerously close to touching.

  “The important thing, I think, is you’re willing to study those pieces. God will help you figure out how to put them together.”

  Twenty-Six

  The sun had reasserted its place in the sky by the time Travis and James reached Erin’s place.

  Before Travis could jam the Blazer in park, James jumped out of the truck, sloshing through water and mud to open the cattle gate.

  “I’m surprised we can pass through this way.” James climbed back in the truck, but leaned forward, pointing to the debris on the fence indicating the high water mark. “How high was it yesterday when you came out to check on Jacobs and the baby?”

  “Over the road. I would have never made it across in this Chevy.”

  James sank back against the leather seat and studied him as they climbed the road to the house. “I would have filled your boat with gas for a month to see you driving Jimmy’s mud truck.”

  Travis tried to stop the grin spreading across his face and failed. “Wouldn’t want to own one of those monsters. Probably gets five miles a gallon, but that baby took the back hill with no problem.”

  James laughed and banged the dashboard with his hand. “Travis Williams, the next Polk County, Mud-Wheeling Champion. The office would love it.”

  They crested the hilltop, passed the house, and continued toward the barns.

  “Nice of you to do this for Jacobs. Never known you to get involved to this degree.” When they stopped and got out, James pulled on his old work gloves and began unloading bags of feed.

  Travis ignored the remark, since he hadn’t worked up a good explanation in his own mind. If he couldn’t justify his behavior to himself, how could he rationalize it to his best friend?

  He didn’t get involved in clients’ lives. He called the appropriate authorities. Somehow, this time that seemed like an intrusion into Erin’s privacy. He’d picked up the office phone twice, and both times he’d set it back down in the cradle.

  Travis stared at James a moment longer; he’d followed his directions well enough. Old jeans with a tear in the knees, a stained Houston Astros tee, and over that a long-sleeved orange flannel shirt that had seen much better days. A Houston Texans ball cap covered his usual crew cut. The boy was dressed to work. Good thing, as they had plenty to do.

  He jammed his own baseball cap on his head and nodded toward the pig pens. “You’re going to be glad you wore those old work boots.” Travis grabbed two forty-pound bags of oats and headed toward the barn.

  James didn’t need a lot of direction since he’d grown up helping around the place where Travis’s uncle lived near Dodge. As teenagers, they’d had great fun saying they were “Going to Dodge” or “Getting the heck out of Dodge.” James had spent many a Saturday on that farm, which was probably why they worked so well together now.

  They were able to knock out Erin’s chores in just over an hour. Each time Travis lifted a sack of feed though, he tried to envision her slender arms doing the same and failed.

  The work was grueling.

  He’d never considered himself sexist, but he didn’t understand how someone so small and fragile could do such physically demanding labor day after day.

  Then he reached Kizmit, who he had fought with the day before, and the pressures of the last forty-eight hours caught up with him.

  The milking cow gave him a crossways look and started bawling. She stamped her foot and stepped sideways, knocking over the stool he’d placed beside her.

  Travis started laughing, giant guffawing sounds that had him holding his sides and bending at the waist. He couldn’t have stopped if someone had threatened him with a shovel. Meanwhile Kizmit was getting more worked up by the spectacle in front of her.

  James appeared, his boots covered with horse manure, a pitchfork in his right hand. “What’s so funny in here? You’re disturbing my stride.”

  “Kizmit,” was all Travis could mutter as he leaned against the barn wall laughing and tried to catch his breath, feeling like a runner who’d just completed a marathon.

  “What did you do to that cow, Williams? Looks like she’s seen a slaughterhouse.” James dropped his pitchfork, walked to the Holstein, and ran his hands down her back, then along her side, murmuring in her ear as he did so. “I thought you said you milked her last night. Her udders are near to bursting.”

  He righted the stool, grabbed the pail, and began easing the cow’s misery.

  “I tried,” Travis gasped, collapsing against the far wall. “Kizmit and I have a history.”

  Three cats suddenly appeared beneath James’s feet, rubbing against his boots, meowing pitifully. Their cries nearly drowned out Travis’s groans.

  “Get a grip, man. Find me some saucers for these cats.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Travis retrieved the saucers and placed them within range of James’s milking, which he was accomplishing with irritating ease.

  “I’m going to need an extra bucket.” James threw him a reproachful look.

  “Don’t blame me.” Travis’s hands came up in a surrender gesture. “I did try. That cow hates me.”

  He rummaged around in the tool room and came up with an extra bucket.

  “Scald it in the sink. Use hot water first, then disinfectant, and rinse with more hot water.” James had filled the first bucket by the time he returned. “I thought Jacobs ran an animal rescue operation. Who ever heard of rescuing a dairy cow?”

  “Kizmit came with the place.” Travis moved to the next stall, tossed fresh hay to Bells, and began mucking out her bay.

  “If I’m going to be this sore tomorrow—and I am going to be too sore to properly use a mouse in the morning—you owe me. Come clean about Jacobs. There’s something you’re not telling.”

  When Travis still didn’t answer, James persisted. “The least you can do is explain why I’m abusing my office-weakened physique.”

  Travis plunged the pitchfork more deeply into the stack. The muscles in his forearms strained against the weight of the hay, but it helped to balance the heaviness in his heart.

  James was right about one thing. He did owe him, and he needed to talk to someone.

  “You know this involves Baby Joshua.”

  “Right. Jacobs found him on a porch. Old lady in Austin claims she’s his great-grandmother. No parents have appeared. You’ve been on it what—a week?”

  “A little more.” Travis plunged the pitchfork deeper. Sweat ran down his back. He wondered if there was enough labor in this barn to ease the restlessness in his heart.

  “Man, if you clean any more hay out of this stall, there won’t be anything left for that cow.”

  Travis looked up and saw James standing in the opening, the day’s last light falling on his back and casting him in shadow. He didn’t have to see his friend’s expression to know it was filled with concern.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  James milked the second cow as quickly as he had the first.

  When James was finished, the two men walked outside and sat on a bench overlooking the house, the front meadow, and the newly expanded pond thanks to the flood. The sun setting over the scene cast it in a more gentle
light. From their perch, it was hard to tell the difference between a road that had been washed out and a creek. There was a difference though—one was the result of destruction.

  “I never found my footing on this case. From the first night I came out here, I was floundering. Erin’s young and vulnerable. How does she do this work on her own? It took you and me nearly ninety minutes, and she doesn’t weigh a buck fifteen. How can Erin do all this and provide for a child?”

  “So you’re not going to recommend placement?”

  Travis reached down and pulled a weed from the ground, popped it in his mouth, and chewed. The bittersweet taste reminded him of when they were kids and the biggest decision they had to make was which pond they’d fish in on Saturday.

  “She loves Joshua and would do anything for him. They have a connection I’ve only seen between birth mothers and their children. Her commitment to him is unlimited.”

  “So you’re recommending placement.” James pulled out his pocket knife and began cleaning the muck from his boots.

  “I honestly don’t know at this point. It’s a toss-up.”

  “Tough case. Most are clear cut, but occasionally we get one that’s difficult. Ask Moring to step in and evaluate.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Meaning?”

  Travis hunched forward, palms flat against the wooden bench. When he raised his eyes to the horizon, he saw clear skies and a Texas sunset stretching for miles. Inside though, he felt muddled, as if the storm were only beginning to brew.

  “I can’t believe this.” James snapped the pocket knife closed and stood, then walked a few steps away. When he turned, the familiar grin Travis had come to expect played across his face. “The famous Travis Williams has fallen, and on top of that you’re tongue-tied about it.”

  “This isn’t a high school crush,” Travis growled.

  “Obviously. I remember your high school crushes, and you were fairly loud-mouthed about all three of them. Since then there’s only been Melissa. After she moved away all you’ve done is work. I’m happy for you.” He trudged back to the bench, propped a foot on it, and slapped his friend on the back. “Cheer up, man. It’s not as if you’ve been sentenced to the gallows. There are worse things than falling for a woman.”

  “I’m her caseworker, James. I’ve already broken at least three different regulations by helping her directly this way. We’re supposed to stay objective. Not to mention it’s totally inappropriate for me to feel the way I do about Erin.”

  “I noticed it’s Erin, not Miss Jacobs.” James looked as if he’d found a bar of gold under the pigs’ feeding trough.

  Travis glowered but refused to rise to the bait. What was the use?

  “Okay. I can see you’re taking this very seriously. There’s no chance you could have her case transferred to someone else?”

  “I tried the afternoon Moring first gave it to me. She’s pretty dug in that I handle it.”

  “So handle it, get to know her, and once the temporary placement is over then you can date her.”

  “Erin doesn’t want temporary placement of Joshua. She wants permanent placement.”

  When Travis’s words settled in, James let out a long whistle, then dropped into a slouch beside him on the bench. “Which means you’d continue making site visits for a minimum of one year.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m beginning to appreciate the desperate look in your eyes.” Then James voiced the two questions that had been running through Travis’s mind for days. “Have you told Moring how you feel about Erin?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told Erin?”

  “I’ve known her less than two weeks. It seems ridiculous…”

  “Right.”

  The evening sounds settled around them as the animals bedded down for the night.

  “I want you to meet her, James. She’s the smallest thing, but strong. You know? Her hair is this shade of reddish brown with all these natural curls that make you want to sink your hands into it.” When James didn’t interrupt, Travis couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out—words that had dammed up inside him over the last ten days. “It’s her eyes that suck me in though—eyes the color of my morning coffee. You can tell she’s carrying the world’s weight, but she’d never say so. She looks at me like she’s handled it forever and she’ll keep handling it for as long as necessary.”

  He slumped back against the barn’s wall, the last of the day’s warmth draining from it as the final bits of his resistance fell away. “When I walked into the house yesterday, I found her lying in bed, curled around Joshua. I thought maybe I was too late.” Tears pricked at his eyes and he blinked them away. “That’s when I knew she’d already managed to get under my skin—way under. I was so terrified, I couldn’t cross the room, couldn’t even breathe. Kept staring at the covers waiting to see them move.”

  He tried to think of how to describe the way Erin felt in his arms, how she completed him. But there were no words. Instead, he stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and stared out into the darkness.

  “I don’t know what to do about this. I’m her caseworker, and I swore to do a job and take care of children, to always put them first—including Joshua. So what am I supposed to do about Erin?”

  He thought his friend wasn’t going to answer him, began to wonder if he should have admitted all his feelings. Then Travis stood, grabbed the back of his neck, and squeezed hard.

  “I don’t know, man,” James said. “I’m fresh out of advice, and anything I could tell you would be worthless anyway because I’ve never been in this situation. But I will pray with you. I have a feeling God has a plan, even when we have no idea what it is.”

  “What if it’s a plan I don’t like?” Travis asked.

  “One more thing we’ll have to pray about.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Erin sat on the couch that had seen better days. A sunflower slipcover brightened the furniture and blended perfectly with the accumulation of knick-knacks on the enclosed back porch. She had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, since she put a sleeping Joshua into his playpen, with a novel lying face down on her lap. The porch was softly lit with lamps.

  “I thought you might want a lap blanket.” Barbara handed her an ivory-and-blue afghan.

  “Did you knit this? It’s beautiful.”

  “Guilty. George says I’ve knitted enough scarves and blankets to warm the free world, but I find it a relaxing thing to do before bed. Settles my worries.”

  Erin smiled and let her hand follow the pattern. Since their talk at breakfast, an easiness existed between them that Erin had only shared with her foster parents and Evelyn and Doc. She was beginning to realize perhaps that was her fault. Perhaps she had chosen to isolate herself, and people were genuinely kind if she gave them a chance.

  “If my fever doesn’t return tonight, and I feel sure it won’t, I plan to go back to the ARK tomorrow.”

  Barbara turned from where she stood, gazing out over the backyard. As usual her eyes twinkled, and Erin found herself wondering if she’d ever find the woman’s depth of peace. “I figured you’d be thinking along those tracks. Knowing your stubbornness, I’ve already started putting together a few meals so you won’t have to cook, and there’s no use arguing with me, Erin Jacobs.”

  Barbara walked across the room and embraced her in a hug. “It’s been nice having you here. I don’t see my own children and grandchildren enough since they live over in San Antonio. Promise me you won’t be a stranger.”

  Unable to speak around the lump in her throat, Erin nodded and pretended to be cold so she could fuss with the blanket.

  “I best go check on George. He wants to watch one of those shows he taped on that new-fangled DVR we ordered, but he hasn’t quite figured out which remote to use to replay it. I have plenty of job security in this house.” Chuckling, she walked back inside, the door banging lightly behind her.

  Relieved to be alo
ne, Erin wiped at the tears clouding her eyes. How long had it been since she’d felt someone’s embrace?

  There’d been Travis’s the day before, but she’d basically thrown herself at him when he’d arrived at her house.

  Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, and her tears felt like water on a fire as they tracked down her face. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, pushed at her grief, and reminded herself she had plenty to be thankful for—things she could pray about right now.

  Pulling in a deep, shuddering breath, she tried to remember how to pray. It had helped so much this morning while standing before the mosaic and again at lunch. She needed that peace now more than ever. How had she begun?

  She was focusing on what words she should use, wiping again at the tears that seemed to fall from an unlimited source, when she heard someone shift.

  At the same moment she smelled the light combination of woodsy aftershave and soap.

  Her heartbeat took off like a rocket, and she searched her memory for how long he’d been standing back there. Since Barbara had left? Had he seen her crying?

  Pulling the blanket closer around her, she drew her shoulders back.

  “You might as well sit down if you’re going to stay.”

  “I’ll go if you’d rather be alone.” His voice was soft, too gentle, and she knew he knew.

  She was instantly submerged in the memory of his arms around her, felt her cheeks flame, and wished the porch were darker. “No. We need to talk.”

  “If you’re sure you feel up to it.” Travis walked around and sank into the old oak rocker. It held his weight easily as he folded himself into the chair.

  Her mind flashed back to the first night she’d met him—the wicker furniture, him fidgeting and knocking things over when he moved. Looking around she understood Barbara had created a haven where her family would feel comfortable.

  “What are you thinking about?” Travis brushed at the dirt on his jeans, but his eyes were locked on her face.

  Laughing and crying at the same time, Erin wiped futilely at the tears that refused to be stemmed. “Remembering you sitting in that ridiculous wicker furniture on my porch.”