by Bonnie Leon
Jean's heart ached for the girl. She reached out and laid a hand over Miram's. “Of course, you can stay.”
Chapter 23
OVER HER PARENTS' PROTESTS, MIRAM MOVED INTO THE HASPER HOME. Luke and Adam carted her few possessions, and she moved into Laurel's old room, sharing the space with Susie.
Susie welcomed the company, and Brian was happy to have a guest in the house. He liked Miram. Luke, on the other hand, wasn't pleased. Miram's personality grated on him, but it didn't take long before her sweetness and caring won him over.
The day of the Dexter move was a sad one for Miram and her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Dexter came by the evening before, hoping to convince their daughter to join them. As luck would have it, Ray had stayed for supper. Margarite gave both Jean and Ray a knowing look and a perfunctory greeting.
She and Miram retreated to the porch. Margarite's voice carried inside as she pleaded with, then threatened, her daughter. Miram wouldn't budge. She'd made up her mind to stay, and that was that.
Jean silently cheered for Miram. It was time for the young woman to be out from under her mother's control; it was time for her to grow up. Jean was proud of her and told her so when she came back inside.
Miram hugged her and with tear-filled eyes said, “Thank you. Thank you for your help and for believing in me.”
Jean smiled and gave her another hug. As she watched the young woman leave the room and head upstairs, she had the sense that she'd inherited another daughter. Sadly, she considered what Margarite had lost. It was a shame.
“I s'pose I ought to get on home,” Ray said.
“How about a cup of coffee first? I could use the company. I'll put Brian and Susie to bed, and we can enjoy a hot drink and a visit.” The words were out before she could stop them. She didn't know exactly why she wanted him to stay.
“I always like your coffee and your company.”
Jean headed for the front room, and Ray followed. Brian and Susie lay on the floor, working a puzzle. Brian knew where all the pieces went, but he let Susie find most of them. Jean shook her head. Brian was such a mix of temperaments. On one hand he could be like a whirlwind, hurrying from one activity to another and giving no thought to anyone or anything, and the next moment he could be thoughtful and sweet. Jean glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was seven o'clock. Luke should have been home long ago.
“Time for bed, you two,” she said.
“Ah, Mom. Can't we stay up a little longer?” Brian asked.
Ray reached down and scooped him up, swinging Brian out in front of him.
Brian giggled.
“You've got school tomorrow,” Ray said. “Now, how are you going to be smarter than everyone else if you don't get your sleep?”
“I don't care if I'm smart.”
“Well, one day you'll wish you were,” Ray said, setting him on his feet.
“I won't either,” Brian said, heading for the stairs.
“Come on, Susie,” Jean said, picking up the puzzle and putting it in its box.
“Mommy, I don't feel good,” Susie said, swiping her hand over her eyes.
Jean set the box in a cupboard, then felt Susie's forehead. It was warm. “You do feel like you've got a fever. Do you hurt anywhere?”
“My head hurts.”
“Is that all?”
Susie nodded, her blue eyes brighter than normal.
“I'll just give you some aspirin—that ought to help.” She picked up the little girl and glanced at Ray. “I'll be down in a few minutes.”
Susie waved at Ray. “Good night.”
Ray smiled. “Good night.”
She hugged her mother around the neck. “Can Ray stay? I like it when he's here.”
“No. He has to go home. But he'll come back to visit.” That seemed to comfort Susie because she rested her head on her mother's shoulder. “I like Ray.”
“I like him too,” Jean said, realizing she did care for Ray Townsend, maybe more than she should. He was kind to the children—good to all of them, including Luke. Although Ray tried to keep his tenderness in check, he was a gentle man. Jean's mind moved over the moments when he'd exposed his tender heart—memories of his wife and daughter, sorrow over Will's death, worry over Brian's broken arm, and even tonight concern had touched his eyes when he'd heard Susie was feverish.
He is a good man, she thought, realizing her fondness for him had grown. The feelings were inappropriate. Will had been gone less than a year. How could she even begin to think of anyone else? She felt shame. It must be because I'm lonely, she told herself. Or because he's been so kind. I'd feel fondness for anyone who'd been so helpful.
She pulled the covers over Susie and kissed her forehead. She and Ray Townsend were simply friends. It would never be anything more. Nor should it be. Aside from Will's death, they had very little in common. What an awful thing to link two people.
After saying prayers with Brian and Susie, Jean returned to the kitchen, wishing she could find a way to send Ray home.
He stood at the sink, looking out the window. When Jean entered the kitchen, he turned to her. “Looks like the wind is picking up.”
“I can feel the chill even in here,” Jean said, adding wood to the firebox. “Maybe you ought to go home before it gets worse.”
“It's not bad. I'll take that cup of coffee you offered, then head out.”
Jean nodded. “OK. Would you like some apple pie to go with it?”
Ray smiled. “How could I turn down your apple pie?”
The coffee was still hot from supper, so Jean poured them each a cup and cut two slices of pie. “Why don't we eat it in the front room? Sometimes it seems I spend my life in the kitchen.” She walked to the sofa and sat, placing her cup on an end table and taking a bite of pie.
Ray pushed his fork through the crumbly crust and well-cooked fruit and took a bite. Chewing, he smiled. “Delicious as always.”
“We could listen to the Mukluk news.”
“You have any music? I don't get to listen to it much.”
Feeling a little unsettled, Jean set her pie on the end table and crossed to the phonograph. Opening the cabinet, she fingered several records. “How about 'East of the Sun' or 'I Got Rhythm' or …”
“You pick. I don't know much about music.”
Jean selected “I've Got Rhythm.” It seemed safe enough. She returned to the sofa. “You like music?”
“Yeah, but I don't know any of the newfangled stuff.” Ray took another bite of pie and gently tapped his fork against his plate to the rhythm of the song. He grinned. “This would give Mrs. Dexter something to gossip about, wouldn't it?”
Jean set her fork on her plate. “I guess it would,” she said, realizing the atmosphere was far too romantic for two adults who were only friends. She sipped her coffee and steered the conversation to a more comfortable topic. “Actually, I'm sorry Miram's parents are leaving town. This is hard on her.”
“I think it's time she got out of that house.”
“Yes, but getting out of the house and being left here while her family moves hundreds of miles away are two different things. She needs her independence, but not like this.”
“How's it working out having her here?”
“Good. Oh, we had our adjustments in the beginning, but she's a fine person and a lot of help. Now it feels like she belongs here.”
A strong gust of wind hit the house. Jean and Ray glanced out the window. All they could see was blackness. “The wind's picking up. Probably another storm,” Jean said.
“When I was out at the barn earlier, the temperature was dropping.” Ray pushed himself to his feet. “I ought to get home.” He headed for the kitchen, coffee cup and plate in hand. “Wouldn't want to give the gossips too much ammunition.”
Jean joined Ray at the sink and ran water into both their cups. Although Ray's arm pressed against hers, she didn't feel awkward. It seemed natural to be standing side-by-side at the sink.
Ray moved away. “You know,
we make jokes about the gossip, but folks have been talking. Not just Margarite.” He paused. “I don't want anyone thinking badly of you. You're too fine a woman.” He leaned against the counter. “Maybe I ought to stay away for a while. You're pretty much set for wood, and with Miram here you could probably manage most of the milking.”
“We can manage just fine. I never expected you to take on so much of the workload. But I don't want you to stay away. You're a good friend.”
Ray's cheeks flushed. “Thank you. I think of you as a good friend too. But it seems my being here is causing trouble. I can still come around and take care of anything that needs fixin' or anything else that comes up with the animals or whatever, but I'll come, then go. No more meals,” he said glumly.
Jean was tempted to go along with his suggestion, but she knew it was wrong. She folded her arms over her chest and said, “You'll do no such thing. You're a friend of this family—”
“What about Luke?”
“Luke will have to work out his problems. And he will. Just be patient.” Jean rested a hand on Ray's arm. “You're welcome here anytime. And you can stay to supper from time to time if you like. If some people in this town have nothing better to do than gossip, then so be it.” She smiled. “Eventually rumors will die down, and our friends will stand by us.”
“I hope you're right.”
A wail came from upstairs. “Oh, no. That's Susie.” Jean hurried up the stairs. It wasn't normal for her to wake up once she was asleep. Jean hoped her fever hadn't shot up. She opened the door.
The light was on, and Miram was leaning over the little girl. She glanced at Jean. “I think she's worse. She feels awfully hot.”
Jean hurried across the room. Susie's face was bright red. Jean laid a hand on her forehead. “Oh dear, she is really hot.” Jean gathered the little girl in her arms. Heat radiated through Susie's nightgown. “It's all right, sweetheart. Everything's going to be all right.”
“What do you think is wrong? It's not serious, is it?” Miram asked.
“I hope not.” Jean headed for the door. “She needs to see the doctor.” Holding Susie closely, she hurried down the stairs. “Ray, I need to get her to the doctor.” The wind howled, and a smattering of ice tickled the window.
“I'll go for him. You don't want to take her out in this.” Ray shrugged into his coat. “I'll be back in two shakes,” he said and left.
With Susie in her arms, Jean stood at the window and stared out into the darkness. Where was Luke? He should have been back by now. He's probably in town with Alex, she decided, hoping she was right.
By the time Ray returned with the doctor, the storm had intensified and snow blew in with them. Luke was still not home, but she'd have to deal with that later.
“Evening, Jean,” the doctor said. He looked at Susie. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks scarlet. “So, what have we here? You not feeling so good?” Susie nodded. “Well, we'll take care of that.” He smiled, fine lines creasing the edges of his mouth and eyes. Susie huddled closer to her mother. The doctor took her from Jean and sat her on the sofa. Ray stood beside the little girl, and she took his big hand in hers. Then he sat on the sofa beside her.
After taking her temperature and listening to her heart and lungs, he said, “Susie, could you open your mouth for me and let me take a look at your throat?”
Susie obediently opened her mouth. “Now, stick out your tongue.” He examined her throat. After taking a good look, he gently kneaded her neck, then did a quick examination of her trunk and legs and palpated her stomach. He straightened. “Anything hurt?”
“Just my head.”
He turned to Jean. “She's fine—nothing serious. I'd say she just has the bug that's going around. Keep her in bed and give her aspirin for that fever. She'll be under the weather for a few days, then she should be fine.” He returned his stethoscope to his bag. “If she develops a cough, bring her in to see me.” Another burst of wind rattled the house. “Sounds like a real storm out there.” He buttoned up his coat.
Ray stood. “I'll take him on home, then head for home myself.”
“No, please don't go,” Susie whined. “I want you to stay.”
“But I have to take the doctor home.”
“After, come back. Please.”
Ray glanced at Jean, his eyes asking her what to do.
“I'll make up a bed on the sofa,” Jean said after a moment's hesitation.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All right, then. I'll be back just as soon as I can.” Ray bent and kissed Susie's cheek.
She circled her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love you.”
His cheeks flushed. “I… love you too,” he said and straightened.
“Thank you, Dr. Donovan,” Jean said.
He nodded and left with Ray.
Jean smiled at Miram, who'd been sitting quietly. “People will surely talk now.”
A furrow formed on Miram's forehead. “I wouldn't worry about what others say. I'll set them straight.”
“Maybe having you in the house will quiet some wagging tongues.”
“I hope so.”
After giving Susie an aspirin, Jean took her up to bed, tucked her in, and said prayers. When she returned to the front room, Luke stood munching a raisin cookie and staring out into the darkness. “Was that Ray's truck I saw leaving?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing here so late?” The question had a sharp edge.
“He's taking Dr. Donovan home.”
“The doc? Why? What happened?”
“Susie's sick.”
“She bad?”
“No. He says it's just a little bug.” Jean headed for the kitchen. “Why are you so late? I was worried.”
Luke followed her. “I was with Alex. We went to a dance in town. I told you.”
Jean nodded and carried the nearly empty coffeepot to the sink where she dumped the last of it, then rinsed it out.
“I don't like Ray being here so late.”
Jean turned and faced Luke. “You don't like it? If you'd been home, he wouldn't have had to fetch the doctor for me.” She ran a towel over the pot. “You might as well know. He's coming back and staying the night.”
“What?” Luke nearly choked. “Why?”
“Susie asked him to. She's sick and scared, and she feels safer with him here. I couldn't tell her no.”
“She's a little girl. You can tell her whatever you want.”
Setting the coffeepot on the back of the stove, Jean said, “I don't like your tone, young man. You have no reason to be disrespectful. Your sister's sick, and Mr. Townsend is being kind. There's nothing improper about him staying here if it will make her feel better. He'll sleep on the sofa.” She folded the towel and set it on the back of a chair. “I don't know what you're worried about—you and Miram and the children are here in the house.”
Luke glared and chewed his cookie. “You know how I feel about him spending time here.” His voice rose. “Why did you invite him to stay the night?”
“I didn't. Susie did. Stop yelling. You'll wake the whole house.”
“I don't care who I wake up. That man's not staying here.”
Jean fought to control her emotions. She had to admit that Luke was partially right. There really wasn't a reason for Ray to stay. Susie was already asleep. And people would talk.
“He's not staying. I'm telling him to leave when he gets back,” Luke said evenly.
Jean didn't know how to respond. It didn't seem right for her son to dictate to her, but she also understood that he needed to feel respected and to have some say in household decisions. After all, he was a man, this was his house too, and his father had died. “I'll check on Susie,” Jean said, “and I'll tell Ray he doesn't need to stay.”
“Ray? It sounds like you two are getting chummy.”
“I mean, Mr. Townsend.” Jean hadn't realized she'd allowed herself to drop Ray's more formal name. Placing
her hands on her hips, she met Luke's eyes. “Doggone it, Luke, I'll call him Ray if I want. He's a friend.”
“He's not my friend. And he never will be. He's a murderer. Have you forgotten?” Luke hesitated. “And why is he your friend? What's happening? He killed your husband.”
“Luke, let's not go through this again.” Jean felt tired, very tired. Without another word she headed up the stairs to check on Susie. She was asleep and felt cooler.
Jean padded out of the room and walked downstairs to her bedroom. She thought over the events before and surrounding Will's death. Ray hadn't killed Will; it had been an accident, but it did seem strange that someone who had once been her enemy was now a close friend. Was their relationship becoming too casual?
She sat on the sofa to wait. When Ray returned, she'd tell him he had to go. She hated the idea. It was unfair, but then, how often had she told her children that life wasn't fair?
By the time the knock came, Jean was asleep. She roused herself and went to the door, tidying her hair. She opened the door. “Hi. I'm glad you made it back safely.” She glanced over his shoulder. “The storm bad?”
“No, not too bad.”
“Good.” She took a slow breath. “I think it would be better if you stayed at your house tonight. Susie's asleep. She won't know.”
“Sure. That would probably be best.”
Jean nodded. Neither spoke for a moment, then Ray turned and walked away. Feeling weary and sad, Jean closed the door.
Chapter 24
LIGHT SNOW, CARRIED ON SOFT BREEZES, SWIRLED AROUND THOSE GATHERED outside the Palmer train station. Temperatures hovered around twenty degrees. Oddly, Laurel didn't feel cold. Usually she tussled to acclimate to the early months of winter when the first frigid weather set in. Good thing, she thought. I'm going to be out in the cold most of the day. Against Adam's wishes, she'd insisted on joining him and their friends for a day of skiing. She didn't plan on skiing, considering her condition. It would be fun just to watch.
“This was a wonderful idea,” Celeste said, her eyes sparkling. “Alex, I'm so glad you thought of it. Last winter I was so busy working that I only got to the slopes a couple of times.” She looped her arm through Robert's and smiled up at him, then looked at Laurel and Adam. “I get to teach Robert.”