As Jack escorted Callie through town to Reverend Hollingsford’s place, he mused over the turn of events. Now that he’d had a chance to sleep on it, this marriage really did seem to be the ideal solution.
If you looked at it right, it gave him the best of both worlds. He’d be making sure Lanny and Nell’s kids were well taken care of, aided by Lanny’s hand-picked candidate, no less. And he’d still be free to leave Sweetgum and return to the life he’d so carefully built for himself for the past eleven years.
It wasn’t a love match, but that had never seemed to be in the cards for him anyway. The only thing that stuck in his craw was that he would be marrying Lanny’s widow, which felt irritatingly like making do with another of his brother’s confounded hand-me-downs. But that wasn’t Callie’s fault and he was man enough to not blame her for that unpalatable piece of this pie.
He could do a whole lot worse, he supposed. That stubborn streak of hers was offset by an unintimidated mettle that was growing on him. And she was good with the kids. Add to that the fact that she was going into this with her eyes open and it seemed to be a can’t-miss proposition.
“The children appeared to take the news well,” Callie said, interrupting his thoughts.
“No reason why they shouldn’t.”
“Simon seems a bit sullen, though.”
The woman sure did like to talk. “He’ll get over it.”
They walked on in silence and he hid a grin, wondering how long it would take her to say something.
“How well do you know Reverend Hollingsford?”
Three minutes. “I’ve known him all my life. He’s been the preacher in these parts for nearly forty years. He performed the ceremony at my folks’ wedding. And at both their funerals. I guess he’ll do the same for me—wedding ceremony, that is.”
She tipped her head to one side. “Sounds like you’re surprised.”
He shrugged. “Guess I just never thought that much about getting hitched.” Not in a long time, anyway.
“You mean not since Julia turned you down.”
He paused. So she did know.
When he resumed walking, he’d hopefully erased any emotion from his expression. “Julia wrote you about that, did she?” he asked as casually as he could manage.
“Yes.” Callie gave him a sympathetic look. “She was worried you wouldn’t understand and asked me to add you to my prayers.”
“Well, she needn’t have worried. I survived.” But it had taken a long time to get over the bitter taste her rejection left in his mouth.
“Did you love her?” The question was soft, almost wistful.
Jack thought back to the boy he’d been. It seemed a lifetime ago. “I thought I did at the time.” He shrugged. “But I was only seventeen. And as it turns out, she loved Lanny.” That was what had stung the most. It had seemed the ultimate betrayal—by both of them.
“Yes, she did. Very much.” She bit her lip and cast him a sideways glance.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Whatever it is, you might as well tell me.”
“It’s just, well, it was more than the fact that she loved Leland. It was also that she knew he loved her. And she was fairly certain you didn’t.”
Jack absorbed the words as if they had been a body blow. Julia had thought he didn’t love her?
“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She was able to pick up on his moods—he’d have to watch himself around her. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a long time ago. It’s not like I’ve been carrying the torch for her all this time.” Not a torch, but maybe some resentment.
“Of course not.”
Her tone conveyed doubt, but he refused to dwell on the subject further. “There’s Reverend Hollingsford’s home. Prepare yourself for a boxcar load of questions.”
That afternoon, when the buggy turned into the drive that led to the farm, Callie looked at the place with fresh eyes. Yesterday it had been Annabeth’s house and the place where Julia once lived. Today it was her soon-to-be home, where she would belatedly start her married life.
Strange what a difference one day could make.
Once Jack had taken care of the horse and wagon, and Annabeth had a chance to say hello to her animals, they trooped into the house.
“First thing we need to decide today is where everyone will sleep,” she announced.
“I already know where I’m going to sleep,” Annabeth said confidently. “In my own room.”
“Well, let’s just think about that for a minute.” Callie gave Annabeth an encouraging smile. “Remember how we said we were all going to have to make some changes in order to help us come together as a real family?”
Annabeth nodded cautiously.
“Since there will be five of us living here now, you’ll need to share a room with Emma.”
Annabeth shot a quick glance at Emma. “I guess we can put another bed in my room.” There was a definite hint of martyrdom in her voice.
“But the room across the hall from yours already has two beds,” Callie reasoned, “and it’s also bigger than yours. Don’t you think it makes more sense for you and Emma to share that one and for Simon to have the smaller one?”
Annabeth’s lower lip jutted out. “But why does Simon get a room all to himself?”
Jack finally stepped in. “Because Simon is a boy and he’s the oldest,” he said firmly.
“But I like my old room,” Annabeth said petulantly.
“I know, sweetie. But you want to do your part to make this work, don’t you? And you can bring all your things with you to your new room.”
Annabeth plopped down on the sofa with a grudging huff. “I guess it’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want a frilly ole girl’s room.” Simon, arms crossed over his chest, looked ready for battle.
“Don’t worry.” Callie ignored his churlish attitude. “It won’t look like a girl’s room once we move Annabeth’s things out and put yours in.”
“I don’t have any stuff.”
Callie felt a pang at this reminder of their loss. That was the real root of the boy’s rebellious attitude and she needed to make allowances. “You do have a few things. And you’ll get more over time.” She deliberately lightened her tone. “And this way you’ll be able to make it into anything you want it to be.”
But Simon didn’t return her smile. “I liked living in town. That’s where my friends are. And I don’t know anything about farm chores.”
“Well, you’ll have your sisters to play with here, and you can visit with your friends whenever we go to town. And of course you’ll see much more of them when school starts.”
“But it won’t be the same.”
She touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t. Not for any of us.” She withdrew her hand but gave him a smile. “And I don’t know anything about farm chores, either. Your Uncle Jack will have to teach both of us.”
“What if I don’t want to learn?”
Jack stepped forward. “You’ll do your share of the work around here, whether you feel like it or not. Just like everyone else.” His tone was brook-no-arguments firm.
“And another thing,” he continued. “You’ll speak with respect when you’re addressing your Aunt Callie, or any adult for that matter. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Callie sat back and stared at Jack. He’d done it again—employed a firm hand with the children without being overbearing. Just the kind of loving discipline they needed. The fatherly skill seemed to come so naturally to him.
How could a man to whom family was so important not have married before now? Had his feelings for Julia been so strong? Had he been holding out for someone like his first love?
Her pleasure in the day dimmed as she realized he was now settling for her.
“My word, Callista dear, you’re nervous as a cat who’s been tossed in a kennel.”
Mrs. Mayweather’s prodigious understatement managed to tease a smile from Callie
as they sat side by side at the kitchen table, shelling peas.
It had been a long day. Today’s visit to the farm hadn’t had the playful, exploratory atmosphere that yesterday’s had. They’d spent most of the afternoon moving furniture around, scrounging forgotten pieces from the attic and generally rearranging things, trying their best to satisfy everyone. An impossible task, of course.
In the end, the place likely felt as unfamiliar to Annabeth as it did to the rest of them.
Now supper was over, Jack had returned to the farm, and the children were playing quietly in the parlor.
“It’s only natural for a bride to be a bit nervous,” Mrs. Mayweather continued. “What you need is something to take your mind off of the upcoming nuptials.”
“No offense, ma’am,” Callie said, attempting to keep her tone light, “but I don’t think there’s anything that can distract me from that particular event right now.”
She knew all about prenuptial jitters. She’d watched all four of her sisters go through it. This was something entirely different. This was a feeling of wrongness that came from the certain knowledge that she was about to enter into marriage with a man who not only didn’t love her, but who felt as if he’d had a gun held to his head to agree to it.
Not the most comforting of feelings for a bride-to-be.
“Come now.” Mrs. Mayweather seemed blissfully unaware that anything was amiss. “You’ve prayed about it and I’ve prayed about it. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“You’re right.” Callie grimaced. “And I know it shows a lack of faith on my part, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re doing the right thing. Marriage is a sacred institution, not to be entered into lightly.”
“From where I’m sitting, neither one of you seems to be entering into this lightly.”
Callie sensed a touch of dry humor in the woman’s tone.
Mrs. Mayweather dropped another handful of peas into the bowl. “You’ve both given it serious thought. And you’re both committed to making it work for the children, are you not?”
“Yes, of course.” That was the only thing that had gotten them to this point—the thought that they both had the interests of the children at heart.
“Well, there you go. I’m certain God will see fit to bless what you two are doing.”
Callie fervently hoped she was right.
“Oh, by the way.”
The very casualness of Mrs. Mayweather’s tone set Callie on the alert. “Yes?”
“I’ve invited some of the local ladies to come by for tea tomorrow afternoon. I thought it was high time you became acquainted with a few more of your neighbors.”
Callie froze. Her heart seemed to pause for a moment before stuttering painfully back to life. “Tomorrow?”
“Of course. I sent the invitations out while you and Jackson were talking to Reverend Hollingsford this morning.”
“How many?” Callie was too appalled to be embarrassed by the croak in her voice.
Mrs. Mayweather lifted her shoulders in a genteel shrug. “A couple of dozen, more or less.”
A couple of dozen! Would Mrs. Mayweather’s parlor even hold that many?
“It’s a last minute thing, but I expect most everyone to accept.” She gave Callie an amused look. “You must know the whole town is abuzz with your remarkable story. Rather gossipy of us I know, but I also know you’re charitable enough to overlook and forgive us our curiosity. We don’t get much excitement in our little corner of the world.”
Callie rallied enough to attempt a protest. “But the wedding is the day after tomorrow. There are things I need to take care of and I need to get the children ready to move.” All true statements. “Perhaps now is not—
“Balderdash! Everything for the wedding is taken care of. And sadly, there’s not much for the children to pack.” She patted Callie’s hand. “I thought it best that folks meet you before the wedding so they can see what a fine person you are.”
Callie tried again. “Thank you, but—”
“No need to thank me.” She settled more squarely in her chair. “Now, let’s finish with this little chore and we’ll plan out our menu.”
Callie added peas to the bowl with hands that weren’t quite steady.
This was a disaster in the making. Crowds, especially crowds of strangers, made her nervous. She’d wanted to ease her way into this community, to give folks here a chance to get to know her one or two at a time before she unveiled herself—the way she had with Mrs. Mayweather and Ida Lee.
Of course, it wasn’t as if she’d show her birthmark to them tomorrow. That would be a true disaster. They would likely have a negative reaction, and that reaction would affect Jack’s perception of her.
She knew theirs wasn’t a love match, but she’d at least hoped to build a life with him that was based on mutual respect.
All of those hopes could be summarily dashed if tomorrow did not go well.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Callie stood in Mrs. Mayweather’s parlor, surrounded by at least twenty-five ladies of varying ages.
The children had escaped to the backyard, where Jack and Virgil had engaged them in a game of horseshoes.
Callie envied them. She couldn’t remember ever being in the midst of such a crowded room, much less finding herself the center of attention at such a gathering.
Her family would never have allowed it. One of her sisters would have stood beside her at all times, keeping her company while shielding her from undue attention. Far from serving in that capacity, Mrs. Mayweather was busy circulating amongst her guests.
During a lull in the ever-shifting conversation, Callie stole away to the corner table where a punch bowl sat. Her head spun from all the introductions. How in the world was she going to remember all those names, much less which faces they went with?
But at least she hadn’t made any embarrassing missteps yet. Perhaps Mrs. Mayweather’s plan hadn’t been so dreadful after all. Callie filled one of the delicate crystal cups and took a fortifying sip before turning to face the room again. She found herself nearly toe-to-toe with two of the ladies she’d met earlier.
The women were Alma Collins, president of the Sweetgum Ladies’ Auxiliary, and her vice president, Jane Peavey. But Callie couldn’t remember which was which.
“Mrs. Mayweather makes the most delicious apple peach cider, don’t you agree?” the one in the blue dress asked.
Callie moved aside to allow the women to refill their cups. “Yes, quite delicious.”
“We hear you’re a friend of Julia’s,” the one in the yellow dress added.
“Yes.” Perhaps she could carry on this conversation without using names. “We lived next door to each other as children and kept in touch after she moved here.”
“Well, I must say, I do so admire you. It must have taken so much courage to agree to marry a man you’d never met.” Mrs. Blue Dress placed a hand to her heart. “And then to travel all this way by yourself! Why, land’s sake, I just don’t know if I could have done such a thing.”
“Actually, some friends of the family accompanied me on the train ride.” Another of her father’s precautions. “It was only when I boarded the stage at Parson’s Creek that I was without an escort.”
“Still, Alma’s right, that was mighty brave of you.”
Aha! That meant Mrs. Blue Dress was Alma Collins, which made the speaker Jane Peavey.
Callie smiled, glad to have navigated past that conversational pitfall. “It’s kind of you to say so, but I’m afraid I truly can’t claim to have much in the way of courage. In fact I was quite nervous every step of the way. It was faith that brought me through. I felt God’s presence with me all the way here.”
“What a wonderful attitude.” Mrs. Collins sketched a toast with her cup. “It does you credit, my dear.”
“And it’s so compassionate of you to take all the children in,” Mrs. Peavey added.
“Not at all.” Callie resisted the urge to bolt from the
room. She could barely stand being the focus of these women’s attention. “I’m looking forward to caring for the three of them. I only pray that I’m up to the task.”
Mrs. Peavey took a sip of her punch and gave Callie an arch smile. “I must admit, I am surprised you were able to convince Jack to join forces with you. He’s always been so footloose. Why, even when we were all running about the schoolyard, Jack would talk about how he wanted to travel the country. And from the looks of things he certainly hasn’t let anything tie him down since he left.”
Callie’s back stiffened, but she kept her smile firmly in place. “People change. And to be honest, Mr. Tyler was quite insistent that he have a hand in raising the children.”
Mrs. Peavey raised a delicate brow. “Is that so?”
Callie’s discomfort was quickly changing to irritation. “Absolutely. He’s going to make an excellent father.”
The women shared an arch look that caused Callie’s grip to tighten around her cup.
“That’s a wonderful sentiment, dear,” Mrs. Collins said. “And perhaps you’re right. It has been eleven years, after all.”
She was spared the need to respond by the appearance of Mrs. Mayweather. “I have something I want to show you.”
Callie smiled, grateful for the excuse to change topics.
When Mrs. Mayweather opened the box she was holding, however, all thoughts of the previous conversation fled. Inside, elegantly displayed on a bed of black velvet, was a lustrous strand of pearls with a matching set of earrings. “It’s beautiful,” Callie breathed.
“My father gave these to my mother on their wedding day.” Mrs. Mayweather brushed a finger against the pearls, then met Callie’s gaze. “I’d like you to wear them on your wedding day.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Nonsense. I know you didn’t come prepared for a wedding. And it would make me very happy to see someone put it to such meaningful use again after all these years.”
“I don’t know what to say, except thank you.” She was truly touched by the gesture. Her first wedding had been little more than a formality. No one, not even her sisters or her father, had done anything to try to make it a special day for her.
The Hand-Me-Down Family Page 10