by Linda Ford
“I had to bring Mattie home.”
“No, you didn’t have to. You decided to. Different thing entirely.”
Dawson let the accusation go. What choice did he have? He certainly wasn’t leaving Mattie with Isabelle again. “I’m about out of options.”
“Ain’t how I see it. What I see is a stubborn man unwilling to change his mind. You had a perfectly good arrangement with Isabelle. One, I might point out, that made Mattie happy. Now just because the girl remembers a sad incident involving her mother, you blame Isabelle.” The old man snorted. “I suppose if she’d remembered out in the barn, you’d blame the cats.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Grandfather leaned over his canes and fixed Dawson with a piercing gaze. “Let me tell you how it’s gonna be. You are going to go to town and spend the day working on the school. The whole day.”
“I suppose you got it all figured out what I’m to do with Mattie. Well, let me tell you how it’s not gonna be. She is not going to stay with Isabelle.”
They faced each other. Dawson could be as stubborn as his grandfather when it was called for.
Grandfather relented first, which gave Dawson a sense of victory. Edged with caution. The old man did not often give up a fight. Unless he had something up his sleeve.
“I tell you what. I’ll send Annie in to get Mattie after school.”
Annie appeared in the doorway as if she’d been waiting to be summoned.
Dawson looked from his sister to his grandfather. Why did he get the feeling there was something odd about this setup? “I thought Annie was too busy.”
Annie shrugged. “I am, but seems I have little choice.”
Dawson knew when to accept defeat graciously. “Then that’s it.”
*
The next morning, he took Mattie to the barn with him as he went to saddle the horse. She had not spoken to him except for a few necessary words and had turned her back to him when he tried to kiss her good-night. “Mattie, this can’t go on.”
“Am I acting like my mama? Will you hate me if I do?”
He could barely stand, so great was his shock. He tried to settle his thoughts. When he could speak in a normal tone of voice, he squatted to her level to look into her eyes.
“Matilda Annabelle Marshall, I will never hate you. Never, ever.”
Her gaze searched his a long time. “Do you hate Mama?”
“Oh, little one. It’s not that simple.” How did he explain to a six-year-old the feelings of rejection and disappointment and failure his marriage had produced in him? “I have never hated her. But she—”
“She was unsuitable. Like Isabelle.”
The words, spoken with such decisiveness, cut a swath through his thoughts. He didn’t know how to respond. “I guess.”
“Then I don’t understand. Isabelle is nice and you don’t like her.”
He straightened and continued toward the barn. “Some things are hard to understand.”
“Or maybe you’re wrong.”
What had happened to the sweet little girl who had loved him so fully and freely until now? Knowing Isabelle only a few days had destroyed his relationship with his daughter. Already his opinion was being verified that the woman would not be good for them.
He left a sullen child at school and crossed the street to start work. He made sure he stayed on the far side of the building so he couldn’t see the doctor’s house. It didn’t stop him from hearing the slap of the door. He stared blankly at the wall before him, refusing to satisfy his curiosity as to whether it was Isabelle who went out or one of the others.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips when, later in the day, he watched Annie ride by to pick up Mattie. The child would be safe at home.
His heart marginally more at ease, he continued sawing and hammering. The board he had didn’t fit the space he needed and he made his way to the pile of lumber to find another. The sound of girlish laughter drew his attention toward the house next door. That sure sounded like Annie’s voice. His nerves tensed and he stopped to listen. Someone spoke. Annie for sure. Had she taken Mattie home and returned? Another voice came through the open window. Mattie? A shudder raced across his shoulders. He tossed the length of wood back on the pile and strode across the yard. How dare Annie deliberately ignore his order to keep Mattie away from Isabelle?
He pounded on the door.
Isabelle opened and fell back before his scowl.
“I want to speak to Annie.” His sister sat at the table, a look of defiance on her face. Beside her sat Mattie, with a matching look.
“I’m right here,” Annie said.
“I’d like a word in private.” He tipped his head to indicate he meant to talk to her outside…away from the listening ears of little girls.
Annie squeezed Mattie’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” She followed Dawson to the far corner of the yard.
He confronted her, his anger burning through his veins. “What are you doing here? You know I don’t want Mattie to be around Isabelle.”
“The day I can’t go where I want and see whom I want will never come.” She jabbed her finger at him as she spoke. “If I want to visit Isabelle, I will.”
He leaned back so her finger didn’t poke his chest. “Not with Mattie, you won’t.”
“So now you’re going to tell me what I can and can’t do when I have your daughter? Me, who has looked after her for three years. If you don’t care for how I am with her, I suggest you find someone else.” Jab jab jab.
He caught her finger. “Stop doing that.”
Brother and sister scowled at each other.
Annie released a whoosh of air. “Dawson, you know I don’t have time to run into town every afternoon and get Mattie. Isabelle is the perfect solution for someone to watch her.”
“You and Grandfather had this all worked out, didn’t you?” He made no attempt to keep the disgust out of his voice.
She shrugged. “We thought it was time for a little prod in the right direction.”
“Right direction?” The pair of them were so mistaken. He swung away and took a step toward the house.
Annie caught his arm. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take Mattie home.”
She planted herself in front of him. “You’ll upset Grandfather and he’s already got enough on his mind.”
“Like what?”
“He feels helpless that he can’t do anything to hurry the rebuilding along. He’s worried about Pa and the boys. And he’s worried about you.” She jabbed him again.
“Why would he worry about me?”
“Because you’re turning into a bitter, judgmental man.”
“I am not.”
She shrugged. “I won’t let you upset Grandfather.”
He didn’t fancy another staring match. “Then what do you suggest I do?”
“Leave her with Isabelle.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Do you think if Mattie doesn’t see Isabelle she will somehow unremember Violet?”
“Unremember isn’t a word.”
“Nor is it possible.”
He scrubbed at his chin. What was he to do?
Annie returned to the house. Was she going to take Mattie home? It would be a relief. She opened the door. “Isabelle, Dawson would like to speak to you.”
He would? Why?
Looking as confused as he felt, Isabelle stepped outside.
*
Isabelle understood that Dawson didn’t want Mattie coming to stay with her after school. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased by Annie bringing Mattie over and could tell by his body language and his scowl that he’d told Annie that very thing.
She’d watched brother and sister face each other, circling like wary opponents.
Then Annie had marched back to the house and told Isabelle that Dawson wanted to see her. “He does?” She could think of only one reason… Dawson meant to tell her again how unsuitable she was, how dangerous
to Mattie just because he and Isabelle did not see eye to eye on the subject of the child’s mother.
Stilling her trepidation, she crossed to where he stood looking stormy enough to send a grown man running away. She would show no fear.
“Yes?” Good. Her voice sounded calm.
He stared past her to the house. Perhaps imagining Annie watching. “I suppose you could tell I tried to find other arrangements for Mattie.”
She almost laughed. “I could tell.”
His gaze flickered to her. Surprised. Wary. “It isn’t working out very well.”
“I’m sorry?” But she wasn’t. She only said what she thought he wanted to hear.
“Annie’s too busy to come to town and get her every afternoon.”
“Of course.” Where was he going with this conversation?
“Grandfather is getting upset because construction is slow on the school and he can’t do it himself.”
“I see.” Yes, she could understand how the older man would find that galling.
“I seem to have run out of options.”
She waited. Whatever he wanted to say, he would have to say it without any prodding from her.
“What I’m saying…asking…is, can she continue to come here after school? You see, I’m rather stuck.”
“That’s hardly a way to convince me to agree.” Stuck? The only reason he asked her. Not that she was surprised.
“I’ll be right next door.”
As if that made Isabelle a safe choice! He sure knew how to make a girl feel special. But she wasn’t about to refuse his request. “I will gladly keep Mattie after school, on one condition.”
“A condition? I guess I have to hear it before I can agree or otherwise.”
She ignored the warning in his eyes and the way his jaw muscles clenched.
“I ask only that she be allowed to talk about her mother if she desires and you allow me to answer any questions she has.” She stood with her hands clasped at her waist, hoping her expression revealed nothing of her nervousness. Would her request result in him changing his mind yet again?
“I don’t see how you can answer questions about Mattie’s mother, seeing as you never met her.”
“I don’t mean specific questions, but I simply want the freedom to allow her to grieve a very great loss.”
He snorted. “It wasn’t a great loss. Mattie is better off without a discontent, always-ready-to-leave, always-complaining mother.”
“Whether or not Violet was a good mother doesn’t change the fact she was Mattie’s mother.” She rushed onward, determined not to let his anger deter her. “I believe the mother–child relationship is the most basic of human bonds. Losing it inevitably creates an emptiness and a sadness that only grows if not filled.”
“Don’t you think I’ve done my best to fill it?”
“Of course you have. That’s not what I mean. I remember when my parents died. I was very close to my mother. Cousin Augusta, with the best of intentions, thought the way for me to deal with it was to push the loss into the background and never mention it. It’s not the sort of pain a person can hope to bury.”
How did she know this? She stared at the blackened ground that filled the empty yards beyond where they stood. She knew because of her own experience. “I had just turned twelve when I moved in with Cousin Augusta. I’m afraid I was a sad, weepy girl whose world had been ripped apart by my parents’ deaths. Cousin Augusta, in what she thought was kindness, said I must put the past behind me and not talk about it anymore.”
She shuddered a little at the remembered agony of those days. “I didn’t want to displease my cousin and guardian, so I tried to obey. Every time a memory came to me, every time I felt sad and wanted to cry, I stuffed those things back until one day I couldn’t contain it any longer. I started to cry and couldn’t stop. I cried and cried.” Great heaving sobs that sucked at her very soul. “My cousin called in the doctor to give me something to calm me down. Instead, the kindly old man sat on the edge of the bed where I lay sobbing my heart out. He talked softly and calmly. At first I didn’t listen, didn’t hear him over my sobs. Then slowly, his words made their way to my brain. I don’t recall most of what he said except he told me there was healing in both crying and remembering and that talking about loved ones kept them alive. ‘They’ll forever be a part of you. One you can’t erase. Nor should you want to.’”
She drew in a shaky breath. The memory and words had rushed from her without forethought. What must he think of her confession? All she’d wanted was to make him see that expecting Mattie to forget she had a mother was hurtful and potentially harmful.
“The doctor must have said the same thing to Cousin Augusta because I was told to talk about my parents as much as I wanted and I stopped panicking. The interesting thing was I seldom talked about my parents after that. Oh, I would point out how they would have enjoyed the sunset or the Christmas service at church. Mostly little memories. Once I knew I could talk about them if I wanted, I didn’t feel the same need. And my life seemed more manageable after that.”
She didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent at three or four, but loss was loss, especially loss of a parent, and as she’d said to Dawson, Mattie could not erase half of her parentage and still be whole.
“I’m sorry for the pain of your loss.” Dawson squeezed her shoulder.
She shuddered under his palm and then she smiled and calm came to her eyes. She leaned into his hand. “You see? I didn’t have the fear that they would be snatched from my thoughts as they’d been snatched from my life.” She settled back, her passion banked. “Maybe Mattie feels the same.”
He dropped his hand to his side and eased back six inches. “Except she doesn’t have any memories. Violet spent hardly any time with Mattie.”
“In which case, I would suggest she’s had a double loss.”
He stared at her. “Mattie doesn’t even remember her mother.”
“You do.” Her words rang with accusation.
He groaned. “Not things I’d care to share with a six-year-old.”
She rested a hand on his forearm, hoping to convey her sympathy that his memories were so bitter.
“Besides, I don’t see what good it will do for you to talk about her mother when you know nothing about her.”
“You could tell me about her.” She read the refusal in his eyes and removed her hand. “You have to have some good thoughts about her. After all, you saw something in her that made you want to marry her. Don’t you think you could share those with Mattie?”
He turned to stare at the building next door. “I’m supposed to be finishing the schoolhouse. I can’t stop in the middle of the day to take Mattie home. It would upset Grandfather.”
Her heart went out to him as she watched him struggle with his warring emotions.
Lord, I may not be the one to help him heal but please send someone into his life who can.
He sighed, signaling that he had given in to her request. “Very well. But promise you will only answer questions.” The words were strained and she understood he had a hard time allowing this concession.
“I can promise that.” She touched his arm again. “Dawson, believe me when I say I would never hurt Mattie.”
His eyes remained guarded. “I believe you would not intentionally hurt her but sometimes adult choices have far-reaching consequences.”
She shivered at the warning in his words.
Chapter Nine
Dawson worked on the end of the schoolhouse and had only to move to his right to see the doctor’s house. When he heard the door slap shut next door, he leaned that direction and looked up. Isabelle carried out a bucket and dumped water on the bush. Done, she straightened and looked up at the blue sky. He saw only her profile but could tell she smiled as if enjoying the view. She slowly turned. He held his breath as her gaze came toward him. Their eyes connected with a jolt that shook his whole body. She lifted a hand in a wave and went back inside.
&n
bsp; He jerked back. He’d chosen this position solely so he could keep an eye on Mattie when she came over after school, but that was hours away and he couldn’t keep his attention off the house. If Grandfather could see him, he would point out how slowly the building was progressing. Dawson wanted to be done more than Grandfather could guess, and he set to work with complete concentration.
After school, Mattie stopped by on her way to see Isabelle. His daughter was still cautious around him and that stung like a thousand bees attacking.
“Have fun,” he said as she sidled away, not letting him toss her in the air and tickle her as he usually did.
She nodded and crossed to the back door, where Isabelle opened the door and greeted her.
Dawson felt alone and tense when the door closed behind them. His thoughts were all tangled. Last evening Grandfather and Annie had kept up a running commentary on Isabelle’s virtues and delivered a scathing assessment of Dawson’s flaws in not seeing those virtues for himself.
Not that he wasn’t aware of many of those virtues. She was gentle, kind, and from what he could see, she worked hard at keeping the doctor’s house. None of that negated his fear of a city woman and his conviction that she would soon tire of Bella Creek and head back to the city and its attractions. What chance did a cowboy have against such things?
He pressed his hat tighter to his head. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel such a strong attraction to Isabelle? Did he have a character flaw that caused him to be drawn toward women who didn’t fit into his life? He forced his attention back to his task. What did it mean if he did? That he should give up his dreams of having his own ranch and become a city dweller? He shuddered at the idea. All he knew was ranching. What would he do in a city but wither up and die?
Twice he was so distracted by his wandering thoughts that he had to cut another board because of a mistake. Good thing he was working alone or he might have had to explain himself. Not that he didn’t wish some of the men around town would lend a hand on this project. After all, many of them had children. Didn’t they want to see them in a proper schoolhouse?