0764214101

by Tracie Peterson

  “Don’t forget to mention Mr. Whiskers,” Miss Porter leaned in and whispered.

  “Mr. Whiskers?”

  “The bunny.”

  “Oh. Yes, Mr. Whiskers.” He looked over to Jimmy and gained a smile from his son. Bowing his head, Woody found himself already baffled by the morning’s events. Was he dreaming this? “Thank You, Lord, for this beautiful day and the bounty that is set before us. May we always be truly thankful, and may we serve You with our energy and time today.” He cleared his throat. Exactly what did one say to the good Lord about a bunny? “Thank You, Father, for helping Jimmy to save Mr. Whiskers. May he thrive in our care. In Jesus’ name we pray these things. Amen.”

  He took a bite of bacon and placed his elbows on the table as he chewed, steepling his fingers. “Miss Porter, I wonder if—”

  “Mr. Colton, forgive me for interrupting, but if you don’t mind, I would prefer it if you would call me Lillian. At least around the farm. Miss Porter is such a mouthful.” She picked up her biscuit again. “I’ve told Jimmy that he may call me Miss Lillian.”

  If his son ever spoke again. Woody pushed the negative thought aside. “Of course—”

  “Mrs. Goodman has shown me all around the house and kitchen, so I’ve asked Jimmy to show me his favorite places around the farm today, if that’s all right with you.”

  “That’s fine.” He finished his piece of bacon and reached for another, unsure whether she was finished.

  “I’ll need to sit down with you at some point and discuss where he is with his lessons. Mrs. Goodman has already told me that the school is too far of a walk for Jimmy right now.”

  “Yes—”

  “And then possibly sometime in the coming weeks, you could start teaching us about the olive farm. Jimmy and I need to learn all we can to help.” She finally stopped long enough to take a bite out of the biscuit she’d held aloft for the last few minutes.

  Mrs. Goodman looked at him from across the table. She gave him a very slight nod as she sipped her coffee.

  So, no. He hadn’t imagined the craziness of this morning. Something was up, and Mrs. Goodman and Miss Porter were in on it together. With a glance to Jimmy, he nodded back and played along. “Yes, of course.”

  Mrs. Goodman and Miss Porter chattered about recipes and the fluffy biscuits while Woody watched his son. For the first time in a long time, he saw a bit of color in the boy’s cheeks. How that happened overnight, he had no idea, but he wouldn’t complain.

  “You’d better eat, Jimmy.” Miss Porter smiled and winked at his son. “I hear there’s a fishing hole around here, and I need someone to teach me how to fish.”

  Jimmy’s eyes grew and he nodded his head, but he still hadn’t touched his food, just kept petting the bunny. Certainly the woman could see how thin his son was. Ah, but maybe that was her tactic. Just treat him as though nothing were wrong. Treat him just like she would any other child.

  Woody glanced at Miss Porter and saw her unspoken request of help. “Oh yes.” He jumped in, even though he wasn’t sure he knew the rules of this new game. “We’ve got a great fishing hole. Jimmy knows all about it. But it’s quite a ways from the house, so you’ll need your energy.”

  “And sturdy boots,” Mrs. Goodman added.

  “Oh, I’m glad you mentioned that. I’d better find some appropriate shoes.” Miss Porter gave a slight nod. “So what do you say, Jimmy? Will you teach me how to fish?”

  Jimmy’s mouth opened, then closed just as quickly. He looked to his father, and Woody smiled. His son nodded at Miss Porter.

  “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “But you have to finish your breakfast if we’re going to go. In fact, I think I’ll need another biscuit myself.” His new nanny made a big show out of grabbing another biscuit.

  Jimmy glanced around the table, and to Woody’s great surprise, the boy began to eat. He looked back to Lillian Porter and watched her finish her biscuit and then proceed to lick her fingers.

  The woman hadn’t even been there a full day, and yet she’d turned their world around.

  Mrs. Goodman stood beside him an hour later as they waved to Jimmy and Lillian from the porch. Armed with fishing poles, worms, a picnic, and a baby rabbit, the two had set off for the pond. As soon as they were out of earshot, Woody turned to his housekeeper and crossed his arms. “All right, Mrs. Goodman. What exactly happened in there today? I almost didn’t think I was in my own home.” The events at the breakfast table flashed through his mind. “Did you see Jimmy? He actually looked as if he might answer her when she asked about fishing.”

  Mrs. Goodman laughed a hearty laugh and sat down in one of the rocking chairs. “You know, Woody, I’m not even sure what’s going on myself, but you found yourself a winner in that nanny of yours. She came into the kitchen this morning before I’d even gone to fetch the eggs, telling me that she’d been up half the night with ideas and questions. So I told her to follow me to the chicken house and we could talk as we worked. I taught her how to collect eggs. She might not know anything about farm chores and household duties, but she’s got a willingness to learn. She’s cheered my spirits considerably.”

  The older woman began a slow rock in her chair and gazed off into the distance. “I never thought the grief of losing Rebecca would ease much for any of us. It’s just been too hard. But that Lillian. Whew. She’s bursting at the seams. It’s almost like a ray of sunshine has finally broken through the clouds. And you know what?” She looked back at Woody. “The more she talked this morning, and the more questions she asked, the more I realized that God sent us exactly what we needed. I mean, you saw Jimmy smile today. He ate all of his breakfast, and for goodness’ sake, the boy even laughed!” Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she sighed heavily. “So when that gal told me she had a plan, I wholeheartedly agreed.”

  Woody chuckled and leaned against one of the porch posts.

  “I’m just glad you picked up on it as soon as you did.”

  “If she hadn’t given me that look and you that nod, I might not have.” He looked toward the pond. “I have to admit, I was a bit confused—even thought I was dreaming at one point.”

  Mrs. Goodman stood and came over to where he stood. She patted his shoulder. “Sorry we didn’t have time to fill you in, but I think Lillian’s right. We need to move forward and be as normal and positive as possible. I’m not getting any younger. I might be good at cooking and cleaning, but even though I’ve been working for you all these years, I had no idea what would help Jimmy come out of his stupor.”

  Woody could only nod.

  She patted his arm this time. “You’re going to make it, Woody. We all are. With God’s help.”

  And Lillian’s. But he left that part unspoken.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A sound almost like tinkling bells floated on the breeze. Harry Longstreet walked to the top of the bluff to see where it came from. Hiding behind a tree, he peeked around it and saw the pond that sat on Pa’s property.

  He’d always liked that pond. It was pretty, and Mama had taught him about wild flowers there.

  A lady in a yellow dress and a little boy chased something fluffy. It kind of bounced along. The lady laughed. So that’s what sounded like bells. Harry liked it. A lot.

  He sat down by the tree and picked at the grass at his feet while he watched. The lady in yellow caught the ball of fur and walked over to a blanket laid out on the grass. The little boy followed, and she tucked the fluffy animal into a red pouch around the boy’s neck.

  They sat down and looked like they were eating. Harry’s stomach growled. Watching them eat, he wondered how it tasted. He licked his lips.

  The thought of food pulled him. Without even thinking, he got to his feet and walked toward the pond. Maybe they would share. They looked like nice people. He’d met some nice people when his ma was alive.

  As he got closer, the little boy pointed at him.

  The lady in the yellow dress turned toward him. She stood
up and put her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “Hello.” She brushed the front of her skirt and stood in front of the boy. She looked a little afraid. “Are you one of Mr. Colton’s workers?”

  Harry took his hat off like his ma taught him. “Hi. I’m Harry.”

  “Harry.” The lady nodded but still looked like she was worried. “I’m Miss Porter. Do you work on the farm?”

  “No. I’m just Harry.” He tried to bow like Ma said men were supposed to, but he dropped his hat and then tripped when he tried to pick it up.

  “Here, let me help you.” The yellow-dress-lady-Miss-Porter held out a hand to him.

  Harry bit his lip. His knee hurt as he stood up. Tears burned his eyes.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” She didn’t look afraid anymore.

  He nodded.

  The little boy peeked from behind the lady. He waved his hand.

  Harry waved back. His knee wasn’t so bad.

  A little nose poked out of the red pouch. The boy petted it and tucked it back in.

  Harry moved forward. He really wanted to see the fluffy thing. “Can I see it? I saw you chasing it earlier.”

  The boy nodded.

  Miss Porter in her yellow dress laughed. “Yes, Mr. Whiskers escaped, and we had to chase him. He’s too little, and we didn’t want him to get hurt. He’s just a baby.”

  The boy with the red pouch held out the animal in his little hands.

  Harry gasped, “It’s a bunny rabbit! I love bunny rabbits!” He jumped up and down. “They hop all over the place and like carrots. And they’re fast, fast, fast.” He smiled at Miss Porter. She smiled back and watched him with a strange look on her face. Harry hoped that didn’t mean she wouldn’t like him. A lot of times people had looked at him like that and then got mean.

  Her strange look went away. “Yes, they are.” Miss Porter’s yellow skirt fluttered in the breeze like butterfly wings. Her laughter made his heart happy.

  Harry reached out to touch the baby bunny. Its little nose tickled his hand. He leaned his head to the side and held his hands next to the boy’s. “You have little hands. Look how big mine are.”

  The boy nodded.

  “It’s okay. You can talk to me. I’m nice. My name is Harry.” He waved at the boy again. Just to show how nice he was. And he smiled. Real big.

  Miss Porter in the yellow dress touched his arm. “This is Jimmy. He doesn’t talk right now.”

  “Oh.” Harry scratched his head. “Why don’t he talk?”

  “I don’t know, Harry. But it’s all right that he doesn’t talk right now. Maybe one day we’ll be able to help him talk again. Do you understand?”

  Harry nodded. “Uh-huh.” He turned to the little boy Jimmy. “I’ll still be your friend whether you talk or don’t.”

  Jimmy smiled at him.

  “Are you all alone, Harry?” Miss Porter looked behind him.

  “Yep.” He swallowed. “I mean, yes, ma’am. My ma always told me I better have good manners. And I try, I really do, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes I use the word ain’t, too, and Ma never liked it.”

  “Where’s your ma now?” She looked over his shoulder again. He looked back to the hill he’d come down earlier.

  “She died. So she’s in heaven. With God. And Jesus, too. And my grandma. And—”

  “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

  “It’s okay. She died a long time ago. I can’t really remember her face anymore. But I remember what she taught me, and I remember her voice. She sang to me, too. Only she didn’t tell me I’d have to live with my uncle. I didn’t like that.”

  “So is your uncle around?” She looked happy to hear him talk. No one really listened to him anymore.

  He shook his head really hard. “No, no, no. I don’t live with him no more. He’s mean, mean, mean.” Brother warned him to never mention any names, or the fact that Pa had once owned this land. And Harry didn’t mind. He never wanted to say Uncle John out loud ever again. He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t supposed to, but there were lots of things he forgot lately. His cousins had hurt his head a lot. Since then, things were sometimes fuzzy.

  “I’m sorry.” Miss Porter in the yellow dress looked sad, but then she smiled again. “Why don’t we talk about happier things? We could play a game.” She turned to the little boy who didn’t talk. “Jimmy, would you like to play a game?”

  His little head bobbed and he smiled.

  Harry liked these people. They were nice.

  “All right, then”—Miss Porter put a finger to her lips—“what should we play?”

  Harry’s stomach growled a lot louder than before. He felt heat race up his neck, and he grabbed his belly.

  Miss Porter smiled at him. “Are you hungry, Harry? We have this great big picnic and we haven’t finished yet. We have plenty to share.”

  “I don’t want to miss the game. I like games.” He was torn between hunger and his new friends. He hadn’t played a game in a long, long, long time.

  She laid a hand on his and tugged him toward the blanket. “Don’t you worry, Harry. We can eat and still play a game.”

  Little Jimmy put his hand on Harry’s other arm and beamed up at him. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been happier.

  Lillian watched Harry walk back up the bluff. She’d uncovered very little about the young man as the afternoon progressed. His ma and pa were dead, he had a mean uncle he didn’t live with anymore, and he was twenty years old. So where did he live? Was he all on his own? Even though he was an imposing figure and an adult in years, it was apparent that his mind was on the same level as Jimmy’s. This made Lillian’s heart ache. Who took care of him? Where did he get food? What would happen to him?

  There was a young man named George that Reverend Owens had taken in back in Indianapolis. People said he was simple. Lillian had never known anyone more generous or kind. “Pure of heart” is what Reverend Owens used to say. Lillian always thought how refreshing and encouraging George was every time she spoke with him. She’d had that same feeling today.

  Within an hour of their meeting, Harry and Jimmy were the best of friends. Jimmy never spoke, but Harry always understood the boy immediately. It was uncanny. Almost like they were having a conversation. When they went to pick flowers by the pond, Lillian had listened and watched closely.

  Jimmy pointed to a patch of yellow flowers with what looked like bright red smiles on one side of the flower’s face. Harry spoke up. “My ma said those are monkey flowers. See, it’s like they have a big red mouth. I bet Miss Lillian likes them, too. Some monkey flowers are just yellow, and some are purple.” He frowned. “I think there are other colors, too.”

  Jimmy pointed to another flower, and Harry nodded and picked one. “These purple ones are pretty, too. These are lupine. My mama liked flowers. They were her favorite.” He held one out toward the rabbit. “Mr. Whiskers, do you like those? Okay. We’ll pick some of those, too.”

  “Harry, you seem to know a lot about flowers.”

  He nodded with great enthusiasm. “I do. My ma taught me. She loved to plant flowers, and she showed me how and taught me their names.” He frowned. “Some I forget.”

  Lillian shrugged. “I learned a lot of things that I’ve forgotten, too.” Her reply seemed to make Harry relax.

  And the afternoon had been filled with Harry’s childlike voice and Jimmy’s smiles.

  But the true highlight had been when they’d played together. Jimmy’s laughter echoed through her mind. Such a beautiful sound. Mrs. Goodman had told her just that morning that Jimmy hadn’t spoken since his mother’s death, had eaten very little, and hadn’t laughed at all. So when he’d come down the stairs and stared at the baby rabbit in the box, Lillian knew exactly what to do. The baby bunny wasn’t thriving all by itself, and neither was Jimmy.

  She’d carefully bathed the little rabbit while Jimmy watched. She’d then fashioned that ridiculous sling out of a bandana Mrs. Goodman said was Mr. Colton’s and told Jimmy that it
was special-made for baby bunnies. He believed her, and his eyes lit up to have the rabbit so close. As he poured himself into his little furry friend, Lillian and Mrs. Goodman almost cried together over the biscuit dough. An instantaneous transformation had taken place.

  The same thing happened during their picnic lunch. Mrs. Goodman had packed five sandwiches, saying that fishing and picnicking always made her hungry. And at the picnic, Lillian’s little charge ate two whole sandwiches. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep up with Harry or if he was just that hungry—but either way, it pleased her like nothing else could.

  As Harry crested the hill to return to wherever he’d come from, she looked back at Jimmy. The little guy had fallen asleep leaning up against the tree. Apparently, playing in the sunshine took all his energy. But she didn’t mind. She’d let him sleep while she cleaned up their picnic, and then she’d walk him home. She spied the fishing poles lying in the grass. They never did get around to fishing today, but that was all right. There were plenty of days ahead.

  After she packed everything back up in the basket, Lillian folded the blanket and stared at Jimmy’s little form. No wonder Mr. Colton had been worried. The little guy was way too small for his age. And if he hadn’t been eating, it was a wonder he hadn’t gotten seriously ill.

  Lord, help me to know what to do to help this child. You’ve brought me this far. Thank You.

  Her heart swelled with love for her little charge. The first day of her new job hadn’t even finished yet, but she knew that God had given her love for Jimmy Colton.

  Sunday morning Lillian dressed with great care for church. She wanted to make a good impression on the people of Angels Camp, if for no other reason than to prove to them that she was healthy and happy. She took up her hand mirror and made certain her hair looked all right. She’d had to work quite a bit to style it as the maid had back in Indianapolis. It wasn’t even close to the elaborate looks her maid had achieved, but it would do. She smiled, feeling reassured. It looked just fine.