“Well, never you mind,” the older woman said. “What’s done is done. Don’t matter to me if she crawled out or if the good Lord pitched her out a window. Our little angel was spared and that’s all that counts.”
“True.”
The sound of an approaching car caught their attention, bringing an “Uh-oh” from Rachel and, “Well, well, well, looks like I got more company” from Hannah Brody.
“I’d better be going.” One quick look told Rachel the oncoming car was Sean’s.
“Nonsense. You didn’t drive clear out here just to tell me about the accident report, did ya? Don’t you wanna see Sam, too?”
“Well, I did, but…”
“Then, don’t go runnin’ off just because he’s here,” Hannah cautioned. “Hank and me’ll protect you from him.”
Rachel huffed. “Who’s going to protect me from myself?”
As she’d expected, her candid comment made Hannah laugh.
“I ’spect I will,” the older woman said. She opened the screen door and ushered Rachel inside. “You go on out in the kitchen and make yourself at home. I’ll send Mr. Bates to the chicken house to fetch Sam. That’ll give you time to pull yourself together and act natural.”
“Okay.”
With a sigh of resignation Rachel made her way through the house to the old-fashioned farm kitchen. The room was the largest in the house, plenty big enough to cook for a slew of farmhands or set up a home-canning operation at harvesttime. Now that the need for that much extra space was long past, Hannah had replaced the wood cookstove with a modern range. The round stovepipe opening in the wall above it was capped but could still be seen, a reminder of the hard work previous generations of women had done on that very spot.
Finding the kitchen empty, Rachel gravitated to the rectangular table in one corner, took the same seat she’d often occupied as a child and unconsciously brushed her hands across the plastic tablecloth to smooth it. The lingering aroma of home cooking made the place seem even more appealing. Her stomach growled.
Hannah breezed in the back door with a broad smile. “Stay right where you are. I’m fixing to feed you.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Rachel said. “I didn’t come here to mooch a meal.”
“Nonsense. Where’d my Southern hospitality be if I didn’t offer? Besides, your Mr. Bates has agreed to eat a bite with us, too.”
“He’s not my Mr. Bates!” Eyes wide, Rachel peered past Hannah to see if Sean had followed her inside. Thankfully, he hadn’t. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Outside, talkin’ to Hank and Sam.” Hannah began pulling plates and bowls of leftovers out of the refrigerator and placing them on the table. “You two sure coulda fooled me. Miz Slocum tells me her son’s real upset over what’s been goin’ on.”
Rachel jumped to her feet. “Nothing’s been going on!”
“Oh yeah? Then, why’re you and Sean seein’ so much of each other?”
“For Samantha’s sake, of course.”
“Pooh.”
“Pooh, nothing. She’s in my class and Sean’s been assigned to counsel her. It’s perfectly logical that he and I would want to compare notes—especially since you said there was a chance she’d be leaving here soon.”
Hannah reached out to pat Rachel’s hand. “That’s a fact. But don’t you fret. There’s lots ’o mixed-up kids these days. Once Sam’s gone, I’m sure you can find another reason to keep seein’ your new fella.”
“Ugh!” Rachel was beside herself with frustration. “I meant what I said. There is nothing between me and Sean. Nothing. And I’m not fixin’ to start anything. Okay?”
“Okay. Just remember, you aren’t gettin’ any younger. You’ll have to settle down one day soon. Any man lucky enough to snag you will be the envy of every bachelor in town.”
“No, he won’t.” Somber, Rachel shook her head for emphasis. “I don’t care what lies Craig told his mother, he was glad to be rid of me. That’s why I don’t understand what made him haul off and hit Sean the way he did.”
“Jealousy.”
“That’s impossible,” Rachel said. “Craig doesn’t want me.”
“You sound like you think nobody does. So you had a problem with Craig. So what? He’s not the only deer in the forest, you know. You’ll find somebody else.”
“I don’t want to find anyone else. That’s what I keep trying to tell my mother. I’m never getting married. Period.”
Confused, Hannah stopped bustling around the kitchen and paused to study her companion’s expression. “Why on earth not?”
Rachel had long ago made up her mind that such a personal query deserved no answer. This time, however, she was too overwrought by all her conflicting emotions to listen to her own sensible warnings. Of all the people in her life, Hannah Brody was probably the best choice as a confidante—and the one most likely to keep her secret.
Making a final decision, Rachel looked around to be certain they were still alone, took a deep breath and blurted, “I can’t have children, okay?”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “What? You sure?”
“Positive. Well, almost,” Rachel said. “I’ve been to three specialists and they all told me the same thing.” Sighing, she added, “Please keep this to yourself. I’ve accepted the idea but I know my mother won’t.”
“Why not? You come by your problems naturally, Rachel. Martha was the same way. She’ll probably be hoppin’ mad at me for tellin’ you, but it’s time somebody did.”
“Is that why you gave me that hush-up look in church? Did Mom try to have more children besides me?”
“Never quit. Not till your daddy passed on. After that, I guess she started thinkin’ more like a grandma. She’s always loved children, probably as much as you do.”
“Then, why didn’t they adopt a brother or sister for me?”
“You know why. Folks around here set a lot of store by kinship, by blood ties. Always have. Likely as not they always will. That’s why I’m glad Sam’s relatives are comin’ for her, after all. I’ll be sorry to see her go, but it’ll be for the best. Family should stick together.”
Though she disagreed, at least in Samantha’s case, Rachel kept her opinions to herself. She understood the mind-set that had led to Hannah’s conclusion. Everyone she knew had grown up believing that blood relationships were more important than anything else. That kind of thinking was part of their culture. In fairness to Craig, he wasn’t acting any differently than most men would—than her own father and mother apparently had.
Which was all the more reason for her to remain single, Rachel reasoned. Clearly, Martha wanted a grandchild by birth, just as she’d wanted only a child who was born into the family—which did answer one nagging question.
“Then, there’s no chance I’m adopted?” Rachel asked.
Hannah cackled. “Silly goose. ’Course not. Your mama would never of agreed to somethin’ like that.”
The back door banged. Rachel’s head snapped around. Sean! She’d gotten so caught up in the emotional discussion she’d temporarily forgotten he was nearby! She was thankful there was nothing in his expression to imply he’d overheard what she’d just told Hannah. Matter of fact, he wasn’t even looking at either of them. Instead, he was focused on the pretty little girl he carried.
Samantha had one arm around Sean’s neck. In her other hand was an empty basket for gathering eggs. Giggling and talking a mile a minute, she was monopolizing him as only an enthusiastic child can. Sean was grinning, nodding and giving the little girl his rapt attention.
Rachel smiled. Seeing two people she loved, together like that, was such a beautiful, dear sight that it brought tears to her eyes. What a wonderful father Sean would make some day!
For an unguarded moment Rachel let herself imagine being the third party in the make-believe family portrait. More tears gathered, wetting her lashes and threatening to spill over. She had to admit the futility of a dream like that.
Not wanting anyone
to notice how unhappy she was, she quickly looked away.
The last thing she glimpsed before she turned her head was an unspoken question in Sean’s eyes.
With Hannah controlling most of the adult conversation during the impromptu meal, and Samantha so excited to have both her teacher and counselor there that she babbled incessantly, Rachel didn’t have to participate often. When she did choose to speak, she kept it short and to the point. She didn’t see how she could get into much trouble with “Please pass the gravy,” although the way her life had been stirred up lately, there was no telling.
To her consternation, Sean seemed to be taking the whole encounter quite calmly, even when Hannah began to quiz him about his background. And, to the Brodys’ credit, they didn’t react negatively to his announcement that, yes, he was a Yankee. Amused, Rachel came to the conclusion that true Southern hospitality knew no bounds. Well, almost none.
Allowing herself a moment to appreciate her roots, she dropped her guard, smiled and glanced over at Sean. He was looking straight at her! Instantly he broke into a wide grin, eyes sparkling. Rachel wanted to avert her gaze but she was mesmerized by the sight of his apparent bliss.
He leaned back and sighed with contentment. “I believe that’s the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” he said. “I couldn’t hold another bite if you paid me.”
“Not even a piece of homemade apple pie?” Hannah was beaming with pride.
“Homemade?”
“Made it myself just this mornin’.”
Rachel had to laugh at the funny, distressed look on Sean’s face. “Hannah’s famous for her pies. If you’re really too full to eat it now, maybe she’ll let you take a piece home with you.”
“That would be great!” He looked to his hostess. “Ma’am?”
The older woman acted as if she didn’t care, but Rachel could tell how pleased she was to have been asked. “Oh, I ’spose. No sense lettin’ it go to waste. I’m fixin’ to bake cookies tomorrow, anyway.” She smiled down at Samantha. The child had crawled up in Sean’s lap as soon as he’d pushed away from the table. “Gotta get ’em done afore my little friend leaves.”
Rachel stiffened. “Leaves?”
Hannah looked ashamed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t of talked out of turn. Not when we’re all havin’ so much fun.” She stared pointedly at the child, then turned to Rachel with a warning shake of her head. “Nothing’s definite.”
That was a lie if Rachel had ever heard one. She knew Hannah well enough to see right through her, especially since the older woman’s eyes had grown suddenly misty when she’d mentioned Samantha’s imminent departure.
Needing moral support, Rachel looked to Sean. He, too, was showing concern over the unexpected disclosure. He leaned down to whisper something in Samantha’s ear, then set her on her feet and stood as if preparing to leave.
Rachel didn’t want him to get away until she’d had a chance to speak privately with him, yet she also wanted the opportunity to find out exactly what Hannah was holding back. She took the initiative.
Starting to stack plates she said, “We’ll help you clean up these dishes, won’t we, Sean?”
To her delight he pitched right in and grabbed the bowls that had held potatoes and brown gravy. Rachel pointed to the meat platter. “Shall I put the roast away on this plate or do you want to put it on something smaller?”
“You two young folks just leave that table be,” Hannah ordered, fists on her ample hips. “You’re my guests. We’ll see to the dishes. Hank always helps me soon as he gets the stock fed, anyways.” She smiled fondly. “Sam, why don’t you take your teacher and her friend outside and show ’em the chickens? I’ve been lettin’ one old broody hen run loose and I figure she’s made her a nest. See if y’all can find that, too. But leave it be if you do. I’d like her to raise a batch.”
That notion made Rachel frown. “Isn’t it pretty late in the year to be starting baby chicks?”
“Nope,” Hannah said, shaking her head in silent warning.
Rachel understood. “Okay. We’ll be right outside if you need us. But before I go home, you and I are going to have a serious talk.”
“’Fraid so. Now, scat, the three of you.”
Leading the way and talking nonstop, Samantha let the screen door bang behind her and skipped on ahead to start her search.
Sean held the door for Rachel, then followed her out onto the back porch. Pausing, he took a slow, deep breath and released it as a sigh.
“I’m beginning to think I may have made a mistake when I chose this career.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t seem to be able to stay objective.”
“About Samantha, you mean? I know. I’m having the same trouble. When Hannah slipped up and told us she was leaving pretty soon, I felt awful.”
Sean reached for Rachel’s hand, grasped it gently, then said, “We have only a very short time.”
“What?” She clasped his fingers tighter. “How do you know?”
“Hank told me. I caught him out here before dinner and he filled me in. I mean before supper.”
“Dinner, supper—who cares?” Rachel stared up at him, her eyes pleading. “Exactly how much time did he say we had left?”
“Less than a week.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Sean…”
Suddenly, it no longer mattered that she’d vowed to keep her distance from him. There was solace in his embrace and she needed that moral support a lot more than she needed to maintain her stupid pride.
Releasing his hand Rachel stepped into his arms, knowing he’d accept her and hoping he’d understand that her motives were innocent.
Sean pulled her close and laid his cheek against her silky hair, breathing in the sweetness of it and allowing himself to relish the tender moment. Like it or not, they shared a love for a special little girl and were about to experience a mutual loss when she was sent away.
Under those circumstances, leaning on each other, literally and figuratively, couldn’t be wrong. Illadvised maybe, but certainly not wrong. Saying goodbye to Samantha—for good—was going to be rough on everyone involved.
That realization had already settled in his heart and made it ache. How much more was it going to hurt when Samantha left them. And if he was so miserable, it must be a lot worse for a loving, maternal person like Rachel.
Filled with empathy, he turned his head a fraction and kissed her hair, finding the spot damp from his own silent tears.
Chapter Fourteen
Samantha’s excited shout brought Rachel and Sean to their senses. By the time the child dashed around the corner to rejoin them, they were standing apart and trying to appear unaffected.
“I found it!” Samantha grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her away. “Come see! Come see!”
Still fighting to maintain what little was left of her dignity, Rachel glanced back to tell Sean, “You’d better come, too, in case she’s right. Broody hens can be pretty testy if they’re disturbed.”
Several long strides brought him even with the woman and child. “Think you’ll need protection?”
Rachel looked up at him. “Tall. We need tall and you’re it. If a hen starts to kick up a fuss, anybody close to the ground is going to get scratched. Including me.”
Sean chuckled. “Are you saying you want me to pick you up?”
“No! Of course not. Just grab Samantha and keep her out of harm’s way.”
“Okay.” In one fluid motion he scooped the little girl into his arms and held her while she protested, “Let me go! I wanna show you.”
“You can show us from up there,” Rachel said calmly. “Mama chickens can be really mean. Tell me where you think you saw the nest, and I’ll check it out for you.”
Samantha pouted. “No fair. I found it first.”
“And we’ll let you look again, just as soon as I’ve made sure it’s safe. I know Mrs. Brody wouldn’t have sent us to look for a nest if she’d thought we’d actually find one.”
&nbs
p; “There,” the child said, pointing. “Under that big bush.”
“This one?” Cautious, Rachel pushed back the lower branches of a thick crepe myrtle and peered through the greenery to the ground. The straw Hannah had used for mulch was slightly concave in one small spot but there were no eggs in sight. The depression certainly didn’t resemble any nests Rachel had seen chickens scratch out before.
She relaxed. “You can put her down,” she told Sean. “There’s nothing under here.”
“Yes, there is!” Samantha hit the ground running and dived under the shrubbery before either adult could stop her. Her shrill voice cried, “See? Right here. Oh,” then went very still.
Rachel crouched. Sean dropped to his hands and knees and edged forward. They both heard Samantha cooing.
“Look,” the child whispered. She turned, cradling something tiny and brown against her chest. “It’s so soft.”
“Aww, that’s a baby bunny,” Rachel gently told her. “You should put it back so its mother can take care of it.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have a mother,” Samantha argued.
“Of course it has a mother. Everything does.”
“Uh-uh. Maybe she got killed. Like my mama.”
Overcome with guilt for having spoken so carelessly, Rachel didn’t dare say anything else right away. Not without the catch in her throat making her voice break. She was grateful when Sean filled the gap.
“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s put the baby back in its nest and I’ll help you check on it every day after school. If it looks like its mother is really missing, then we’ll give it something to eat. Okay?”
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