Blowing on Dandelions: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series)

by Miralee Ferrell

  Of all Katherine’s recent foolish notions, this might be the worst, thinking she could take care of an injured man on top of caring for her girls and the other boarders. Didn’t she see she needed help?

  Young voices drifted from the open door of the upstairs parlor most often used by the family or children. Lucy must be visiting with someone. That area could’ve housed another room, but no, Katherine insisted on including a small sitting room away from the bustle of the downstairs living area. Another waste, to Frances’s way of thinking. Daniel had catered to his wife a bit too much.

  She paused next to the door, arrested by the sound of a young man’s voice. More like a boy, but with an occasional crack that showed he’d recently taken the step from boy to young man. Who could Lucy be talking to? They didn’t have any children lodging here.

  Frances picked up the hem of her skirt. Time to see what her granddaughter was up to. Her foot lifted from the floor, then she halted so quickly she almost stumbled. What had Lucy just said? She inched closer and turned her ear toward the open door.

  “You can’t tell Ma.” Lucy’s words jerked Frances upright. “Or your pa. Promise?”

  “Why would I tell anybody you like some boy at school? Besides, we already promised to keep each other’s secrets, and I haven’t spilled the beans yet. Why don’t you want your ma to know?”

  “Ma’s already worried you want to court me, and she thinks I’m too young. I told her we’re only friends, but I’m not sure she believed me.”

  Frances held back a smile. It may have been a lifetime ago, but she remembered her first crush on a boy at school. Her smile faded. Pa hadn’t approved and had ended her daydreams with a willow switch after he’d caught her and her beau walking hand in hand through a meadow.

  Zachary’s words caught her attention again. What had she missed by letting her thoughts wander?

  “I think that’s a great idea, Lucy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, but won’t it worry your ma?”

  “It’s not like we’ll do anything. If she thinks I’m a little sweet on you, she won’t find out about Jonathan. You don’t need to act different. I’ll just smile at you when she’s looking. There’s nothing wrong with smiling, is there?”

  A long pause ensued, and Frances leaned forward. What were those children doing in there? Time to put an end to this nonsense and …

  “I guess not. As long as neither of us fib. Pa won’t tolerate lying, and I’d hate to disappoint him.”

  Frances relaxed and took a quiet step back. All was well; she could go to her room. Three strides down the hall, though, she stopped. She had seen the look on Mr. Jacobs’s face when Katherine left his room this morning, even if her daughter had not. Yearning. He may not know it yet, but he was falling for Katherine, and Frances did not intend to let that happen. The man had no prospects—his business and home were destroyed—and she didn’t want him thinking he could camp out here living off her daughter indefinitely.

  Frances concentrated. The children’s conversation gave her an idea, and she hurried down the hall. It might provide a way to convince Katherine to cut Zachary and his father’s stay short. She wouldn’t have to lie either, but … this could work. Yes, indeed.

  Micah shifted his weight on the bed, struggling to get comfortable. White-hot needles burrowed their way into his ankle, and he’d swear his heart was trying to pound its way out through his toes. If he hadn’t gone back for his box of blacksmith tools, he wouldn’t be in this situation today. But he’d already lost the barn and his home; he couldn’t abide the idea of his tools being destroyed, as well. Of course, most of his tools were metal, but their wood handles would require time and work to repair. He gave a snort of derision—but probably not as much time or work as his ankle would need.

  He threw off the sheet covering his chest and scooted up against the pillow, punching it into a ball beneath his shoulders. Losing his business and home cut deep, but it could have been worse—he could have lost Zachary. One funeral in the past two years was enough. He couldn’t endure another loss without going mad. Maybe not mad, but after Emma’s death he’d pretty much lost his faith. If God took Zachary away from him, too, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  “Pa?” Zachary stuck his head around the door frame, his hand clutching the frame so hard his fingers turned white. “You all right?”

  “Come on in.” Micah choked back his emotions. Men didn’t cry. Well, maybe they did in the dark with no one around to hear, but he’d be ding-blasted if he let his son see tears. He blinked rapidly and held out one arm. “I’m fine. Nothing some rest won’t cure.” He patted the edge of the mattress and shifted over a couple inches, trying not to wince. “Sit. It’s good to see you. I woke up worried.”

  Zachary sank onto the spot next to his pa and ran his gaze over his father’s face. “What were you worried about?” His eyes darted away and lit on something across the room. “The barn.” The words came out as a bare whisper. “I’m sorry, Pa.”

  Micah placed a finger against his son’s jaw and pressed, bringing the boy’s focus back around. “Not the barn or our home. I couldn’t remember seeing you last night, and I had a moment of panic thinking maybe …” He let his breath whistle out between his teeth. “Maybe I’d lost you.”

  The blood drained from Zachary’s face and tears pooled in his eyes. “It was my fault. You must hate me, Pa. Maybe I shoulda stayed upstairs, so you wouldn’t know.”

  Terror coursed through Micah. He didn’t care whose fault the fire was, as long as his son was alive. But those words—hearing Zachary wish he’d died so his pa wouldn’t be disappointed in him? Had he let the boy think he didn’t love him these past months since his mother’s death? He dropped his hands to Zachary’s arms and gave him a quick shake. “Stop that. I don’t ever want to hear words like that from you again, do you hear me? Not ever!”

  “But, Pa! You don’t know what I did.” The tears spilled over onto Zachary’s cheeks and wended their way to his chin.

  Micah reached up to brush the moisture away. “All that matters is we’re both safe. We have each other. Nothing you do will make me love you any less.” He waited, but Zachary bowed his head. “Look at me, Son.”

  Zachary sniffled and scrubbed at his nose but met Micah’s gaze. “I thought you’d hate me for burning down the barn.”

  Micah closed his eyes. He’d been afraid of this—had known it might be the case. Only seconds before Zachary had come into his room, he’d recalled going to bed wondering if the boy had put out the lanterns in the stable. “What happened?”

  “I set a lantern on a stall divider, but the closest horse was two stalls down. I forgot the lantern was there until I woke up later. I should’ve gone down and put it out, but I was too tired. One of the horses must’ve kicked a wall, and it fell off.”

  Truth struck him full force at his son’s words. All this time he’d been worried Zachary might be to blame, when it was his fault, not the boy’s. “It’s as much my mistake as yours. I can’t let you take all the blame.”

  Zachary straightened. “You didn’t leave the lantern there, Pa. I did.”

  “Yes, I know that, and you were wrong not to follow the rules and make sure each light was doused.” He hated having to chastise his boy, but sometimes facing a problem helped a child take responsibility and did more to relieve guilt than making light of it would. Telling Zachary it didn’t matter would be lying, and that was something he’d taught his son never to do. “I wish you’d followed instructions and been more careful, but it’s still not completely your fault.”

  Zachary’s brows scrunched together. “I don’t understand. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But I did. Before I fell asleep, I wondered if you’d remembered to care for everything, but I was too tired to check. Instead of following through, I slid into bed and went to sleep. If I’d done what God was nudging me to do, this never would’ve happened.”

  Katherine balanced the
breakfast tray in front of Micah’s open door. A murmur of words drifted out, and she hesitated—might she be interrupting? But food was best eaten hot, and she hated to waste it. She stepped into the open doorway and halted so quickly she almost upset the mug of coffee.

  Micah sat propped up against his pillow with his son wrapped in his arms. She thought she detected a hint of moisture on the man’s cheek as his forehead pressed against the boy’s dark, tumbled curls.

  A sense of reverence rose within her and she edged backward, not wanting him to catch her staring. Micah cried while holding his son. How many men would act with so little restraint? She couldn’t even conceive of Daniel doing so.

  If only she’d followed her earlier prompting and returned to the kitchen. Katherine’s heart ached at the tender scene, evoking memories of Daniel with the girls—how she missed her husband and the love they’d shared.

  She caught her breath as another emotion surfaced.

  Longing.

  To once again know the tenderness of a man’s embrace. Oh, to be held the way Micah held his son, with his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, gathering her close to his heart…. Her feelings threatened to swamp her.

  How foolish. She didn’t even know this man. Not beyond the surface acquaintance, at any rate, and she certainly wasn’t looking for a husband. Micah was handsome enough, and from what she’d observed, gentle and oft-times considerate of others. But it didn’t matter if he proved himself perfect. The man had recently been widowed and had made it clear he had no desire to accept her offer of a temporary home—he’d done so out of necessity. Micah Jacobs had no interest in her, and she certainly didn’t in him.

  But something about him tugged at her heart, and it scared her. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since Daniel died. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to invite Micah to stay here, but what other choice was there? With his business destroyed, money would be scarce, so staying at the hotel would cause additional hardship. She’d made the right decision, but she’d need to be careful to guard her heart against any further intrusion.

  She lifted her chin. Time to get on with the business at hand.

  Katherine took a determined stride through the door, clearing her throat as she walked. “Pardon me for interrupting, but I’ve brought breakfast. Zachary, the others are waiting in the dining room, if you’d care to join them.” She didn’t wait for a response but busied herself setting the tray on the chair closest to the bed.

  Taking a step back, she inadvertently stared into the depths of Micah’s eyes, his lashes dark with moisture. She captured her bottom lip between her teeth. What could she possibly say to this man who openly displayed his love for his son? She struggled to force words past the lump in her throat.

  Micah patted his son’s shoulder. “You heard Mrs. Galloway. Breakfast is ready, so you’d best hurry.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zachary stood and tipped his head toward Katherine. “Thank you, ma’am, for letting us stay here.” He rushed from the room.

  Micah lay back against his pillow with a warm smile. “I’m sorry to put you to so much bother.”

  “It’s nothing to worry over. I’m happy to help with anything you need.” Katherine slid the chair close to the bed, then handed him the plate. “Can you reach the coffee all right?” She kept her voice steady, wishing she dared ask what caused the tears.

  “Yes, it’s fine. Thanks.” Lifting the mug, he took a long swallow before lowering it. “We won’t stay any longer than we need to. As soon as the doctor says I can get out of this bed, we’ll find somewhere else to live.”

  Had Micah read her mind? Katherine stepped to the window, opening the curtains and allowing sunlight to stream in. “No need. This room wasn’t being used.” The words came out flat, almost emotionless, not at all what she desired, but she couldn’t let him see how he stirred her emotions. She swiveled and mustered a smile. “I’m happy to help. There’s no reason for you and Zachary to leave.” She wrapped her fingers in the folds of her skirt and tried to keep her voice light. “I’d best get back to the kitchen, or I’ll have a revolt on my hands.”

  “Zachary can bring anything more that I need. You have enough work to do.”

  Silence settled over the room, and Katherine backed toward the door, suddenly unsure of what else to say, like a young girl fumbling for the right words on her first day at school. Turning, she hurried from the room. Maybe she’d ask Zachary or Lucy to collect the tray when Micah finished. Yes, keeping her distance from Micah Jacobs would be a very sensible plan.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jeffery Tucker stared at the newspaper, trying to concentrate. Why didn’t someone answer that door? He’d finished supper and retired to the parlor, hoping no one would join him. All he wanted was a little peace and quiet after the hubbub of the day. It had been eight days since Jacobs and his son moved in, and the amount of activity seemed to have doubled. This was the second time someone had knocked. For that matter, why would a person continue to hammer when it clearly stated this was a boardinghouse? Most people just walked in and asked for the proprietor.

  There appeared no help for it. He laid the paper aside and propelled himself with long strides toward the insistent knocking. Whipping open the door, he fixed a scowl on his face, intending to educate the person on the niceties of boardinghouse etiquette.

  A petite young woman cowered behind a matronly lady at least twice her age—and twice her width, since the older woman’s bulk almost hid the younger. Dark brown ringlets peeked from under the younger woman’s bonnet, falling several inches past her shoulders. Her hand clutched a large locket, which hung around her neck on a gold chain. Her wide blue eyes caught his attention, but the sheer panic in them caused the harsh words to die in his throat.

  The stout woman slowly lowered her fist and surveyed him from head to toe. “Are you the owner of this establishment? I say, you certainly took your time answering. Not the way to run a successful business.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, are you going to open the door and ask us in or stand there gawking?”

  Jeffery, startled back to his senses, bowed as he stepped aside. “Pardon me for my ill manners, ma’am.” He nodded toward the younger woman and offered a smile. “Miss. Please, do come in. I’ll see if Mrs. Galloway is about, if you’re inquiring about a room.”

  “Mrs. Galloway, is it?” The matron stood in the spacious foyer, allowing her gaze to sweep over the furnishings. “Isn’t there a Mr. Galloway? I’m not accustomed to dealing with a woman on matters of business.”

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Galloway is widowed, ma’am. But she’s a capable person, and I’m sure she’ll care for your needs.”

  Katherine Galloway appeared in the arched doorway that led to the rest of the house. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker. I appreciate your kind words.” She stepped forward. “Pleased to meet you, ladies. I’m the proprietor.”

  Something akin to relief mixed with a surprising amount of disappointment washed over Jeffery when he realized there was no need to linger. The young woman standing in the hall had lovely eyes and a gentle demeanor—she might be worth getting to know. But the strident tones of the older woman chased him from the room. If they stayed, Jeffery was sure he’d find another place to live. Shades of Katherine’s mother. A shudder coursed through him. This female seemed cut from the same cloth.

  Another thought struck him and tipped his mouth up in a grin. On the other hand, he might garner new material for his project when those two met. Sparks would fly—he’d wager his last dollar on the fact. Yes, indeed, staying might not be such a bad plan after all.

  Katherine repressed a smile as Mr. Tucker hurried away, certain she understood what had caused the man to flee. The rather imposing female standing in her foyer, arms akimbo, was enough to intimidate the bravest of souls. But fear didn’t so much as tickle Katherine’s consciousness; after all, she’d been raised by Mama.

  “Were you looking for lodging?” She peered beyond the pair. “Did you br
ing any bags?”

  “Humph.” The matronly woman snorted. “Of course. Why else would we come to a boardinghouse? Our luggage is outside with our driver.”

  Any number of reasons crossed Katherine’s mind, but she bit back a retort. “May I ask your names and have you sign my guest book?”

  “I am Wilma Roberts, and this is my niece, Beth Roberts.” She beckoned the girl forward. “Don’t stand there with your mouth open, Beth. Act like the lady I raised you to be.”

  The young woman snapped her lips closed and shuffled closer. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” The whispered words appeared to mollify Mrs. Roberts, as her grim expression faded to one of tolerant patience.

  “That’s better, sweetheart. Why, a good-looking young man answered the door, and you didn’t so much as nod or smile. How do you expect to find a husband that way?” She rounded on Katherine, shaking her head. “Beth’s a little shy, but she’s a good girl.”

  Pity flooded Katherine’s heart. The girl, who looked no older than seventeen, was as timid as a newborn fawn. She directed a warm smile at Beth, then returned her attention to the aunt. “Would you care to share a room with your niece, Mrs. Roberts, or do you require two rooms?”

  Mrs. Roberts’s mouth formed a small circle, giving her a comical look. “Why, neither. We would like a suite, if you please. With a drawing room separating two private rooms, and a bath.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. I don’t have any suites or private baths.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Roberts’s bulk quivered with indignation. “I will pay extra, if that is what it takes. I am sure the lodgers who reside in your suite can be convinced, with a little persuasion, to take a different room.”

  Irritation chased away the last remnants of Katherine’s amusement. The gall of the woman. “No, ma’am, you misunderstood. My boardinghouse has no suites, but even if we did, I’d not ask someone to give up their rooms for any amount of money.”