by DiAnn Mills
Not if I were there to keep you warm. “Don’t forget snow. You can shovel it, make snowmen with it, and roll it into balls for snowball fights.”
“No thanks, Mr. Kahler. I prefer weather best suited to sensible folks.” Her eyes sparkled with a hint of teasing.
“Ah, sensible folks? I’ll remember that next summer when we’re all begging for a little shade.”
“I think I’m in trouble.”
A smile appeared to surface and remain whenever he was with her. “You’d best fetch your sweater, Miss Cold-Bones, and I’ll check on my children.”
Upstairs in their room, he found the twins on their bed exchanging punches.
“That’s enough, you two, unless you want to spend the afternoon in bed.”
“No sir,” Curly said from his position beneath his sister. “But Charlie told me I was stupid.”
“Stupid?” Zack frowned at the little girl. “Your brother is not stupid.”
“Yes, he is.” She pulled her little dress over her leg and swung it over Curly’s back. “He can’t do arithmetic as good as me. And he can’t remember how many calves are at Grandma and Grandpa’s ranch.”
“I’m not so sure I remember,” Zack said. “Am I stupid?”
Charlie gasped. “No, Poppy.”
“Then neither is your brother. Apologize to him this instant, or you will stay here. And then you will hug him and tell him you love him.”
The twins’ eyes widened.
“Your choice.” Zack pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at their horror.
Charlie whirled around and lightly embraced her brother. “I’m sorry, and you aren’t stupid.”
“And?” Zack raised a brow.
“And I love you.”
“Curly, it’s your turn.”
The little boy looked like he might become ill, but he obeyed. Will these two ever settle down?
Shortly thereafter, Curly and Charlie grasped the hand of a grandparent and climbed into a buggy. They’d return at twilight for the evening service. Both the children and the grandparents, along with Lydia Anne and Stuart, would be exhausted.
“How many miles are we walking?” Chloe said once the buggy disappeared.
“Ten or twenty.”
“Are you teasing me, Zack Kahler?”
“Every opportunity I get.” He offered her his arm. When she linked hers into his, he realized Chloe needed to be linked with him forever. He’d loved the little girl and now the woman. But it was too soon to express his love and desire for them to have a life together. She might think he’d lost his senses if he gave away his heart before a proper amount of time had passed. Or she might think he simply saw her as a woman to care for Curly and Charlie.
What if she refused him? What if she saw their relationship as friendship and nothing more? If she had any doubts, he intended to chase them away every chance he got. Then there was the problem with Jacob Barton. Zack repeatedly told himself he had nothing to worry about, but Jacob had his sights on Chloe, and the man was determined.
Chloe and Zack walked on past the cotton gin. The factory had expanded as well as so much of Kahlerville since the railroad increasingly brought industry to the town. He loved progress, but there were times when he also enjoyed the way things used to be. Perhaps age had crept into his bones.
The peacefulness of nature pulled the stress of his work and problems from his thoughts. A family of crows called to each other. Cows bawled from a neighboring farm. A dog barked. Evergreens provided rich color among the barren trees. A few had leaves of red and gold, not at all like he’d seen in December in New York. Under a blue, cloudless canopy, nature proceeded to tuck late fall into a winter’s rest.
Chloe pointed to an area ahead where a lazy creek wound its way through overhanging brush. Zack used to fish in these clear waters when he was younger.
“I lived there for a while.” The sadness in Chloe’s voice sparked his attention.
Puzzled, Zack glanced about for a shack or at least a shelter. “There’s nothing there.”
Her features saddened. “I know.”
“Do you really want to tell me about this?”
“I believe I need to.” She drew in a deep breath. “It will explain my fear and dislike for Eli Scott. Even though he has left town and his situation is sad, I can’t seem to forgive or forget what he’s done. I realize God is upset with me for my hard heart, but I can’t seem to push away the memory of what Eli has done—both to me and the twins.”
He patted her arm, which was still linked with his. How comfortable it felt to have her beside him. He wanted to take away all of her heartache, but only God had the ability to bring peace to her soul.
“When my pa died in the fire, all I had left were the clothes I wore and his old nightshirt.”
“His nightshirt?”
She nodded. “I had it hidden in the loft of an old barn near the house. Sometimes when Pa was drunk, he insisted I spend the night in the barn. When I walked home after church the night of the fire and saw the house in flames and folks attempting to put it out, I retrieved the nightshirt. Later the barn burned, too. As bad as things were between Pa and me, the shirt is all I have left of him except for his hunting knife, which I found among the ashes. I used to think he was cruel for making me stay in the barn, but later I realized he may have wanted to protect me from the anger that often accompanied his drunkenness.” She paused for a moment. “I had no place to go and was too proud to ask for help. I wandered to the creek and stayed there until I found the job at the boardinghouse.”
His insides twisted at the thought of his Chloe living in such poverty out in the open wilderness. The memories of the hungry little girl played across his mind. Just as he had in his youth, he wanted to take care of her forever.
“What did you eat?”
She shrugged. “Apples mostly. It doesn’t matter, Zack. I have a good job now. What I wanted you to know is during that time, Eli discovered where I was living and attempted to . . . force himself on me. Before I graduated from school—although he’s younger—he’d attempted the same behavior. Anyway, I had Pa’s hunting knife and knew how to use it. When I pulled it out, he took off. But he threatened to—” She paused, her face flaming.
“No need to say anything else. I understand. Miss Scott did well to dismiss him from school. If he had hurt the twins again, I would have lost my temper. Badly. I have no use for bullies.”
“As much as I despise him, I think Eli hurts from what his father has done to him, and that makes him want to do the same to others.”
“You’re probably right. I’m not the least bit surprised Miss Scott tried to keep him in school. At least there his father couldn’t beat him.”
“I wish Eli would let her know where he is. She thinks he may have joined the army.” Chloe sighed. “She also thinks the army’s discipline might help him.”
Zack remembered when he was twelve years old and ready to fight the world. “Discipline, if applied correctly, makes us strong and useful people.”
“Pa was both strict and harsh. And then there were times when he surprised me. Tenderness would sound in his voice, or he’d say how much I looked like my mother. I think because I resembled her I was a constant reminder of what he’d lost.” She shrugged. “I think I’m talking too much.”
“Not at all. I want you to be able to tell me everything.” He started to say more, but he didn’t want to frighten her away. A thought occurred to him. “Chloe, do you see how God has taken care of you?”
She didn’t reply, but her gaze toward the creek with the overhanging cypress trees revealed her troubled thoughts about God.
Oh Lord, I know my Chloe believes in You, but she’s been hurt. Touch her with Your Spirit and show her Your love.
“I see why you and the twins have so much in common: poverty, hard times, hunger. Why didn’t you seek out my parents or Miss Scott? They would have taken care of you while you searched for a job.”
“I
don’t believe in charity. I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself.”
“My dear Chloe, I wish I’d been here to help.”
“I would have been too proud to accept it.”
“Now, Chloe.”
She lifted her chin. “Pride is a sin, and I’m guilty. But I also see that what I experienced gives me a better understanding of the twins’ life before you adopted them. When I stop to ponder the situation, I believe I’d go through my childhood again if only to help Curly, Charlie, and you.” She sniffed and smiled. “I love those two little ones, and I’m thankful to be a part of their lives.”
Do you love me, too? How I long to hear those words, but I can neither tell you my heart nor ask you for yours until my children are secure.
Chapter 17
Zack hitched up the wagon feeling as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. While Curly and Charlie were in school, he planned a surprise that his children would least expect. A bit of a chill had settled in since Thanksgiving, and he loved every minute of it. Not that he missed the snow and cold from New York, but cooler temperatures gave him a lift in his walk. Mama had found jackets for the twins among Stuart’s and Lydia Anne’s old things, which would do fine until Christmas when Zack produced outer clothing as part of the twins’ gifts. Oh, he had to watch himself, or he’d be guilty of spoiling those two by responding to every whim that crossed their minds.
He inhaled the scent of burning wood and noted smoke rising from the chimney tops of the local homes and businesses. The Christmas season had arrived, and he may have found the best gift yet in a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman.
Four miles outside of town, on the way to Morgan and Casey’s ranch, a house and fifty acres stood empty and for sale. In truth, Hank’s mother had lived there until she passed on a few months ago. He’d offered Zack a good deal—if he liked the house and surrounding acreage.
“Here’s the key. Spend all the time you need. Everything is in place as Mother left it. Nothing’s changed, but the missus and I cleared out the food and cleaned up a bit. You’ll find dishes in the cupboard and fresh sheets on the beds. There are two wells on the place and a creek that flows across the back. Underground springs have always greened up the fields and pasture. A pretty place if I do say so myself. But me and the missus have enough to take care of with our own farm.”
“How’s the acreage currently used?”
“Pecan trees in one corner and apple trees in another. Also a farmer has been leasing some of the land for the past few years to grow cotton. It’s a good little income.”
Zack well remembered the white, two-story farmhouse and the trees positioned on both sides of it. He remembered the in-season flowers that made the property look inviting. Already he could envision a rope swing for the twins. With his insides fluttering like a lovesick schoolboy’s, he anticipated that the inside of the home would be as welcoming as the outside. If his and Chloe’s relationship continued to grow, he’d propose in the proper time, and they’d have a home together with Curly and Charlie.
Here I am making plans without setting foot inside the front door. Slow down, Zack. The last time you rushed into things, you ended up in the middle of an adoption.
But that wasn’t such a bad decision either.
A house for Christmas. Couldn’t put it in a stocking, but he and the twins could fill it with love. The boardinghouse had quickly grown old, especially with two high-spirited six-year-olds who needed room to run and play. They were becoming more difficult to manage and control. Many of the guests complained about the noise, and Zack did all he could to keep their voices down. The poor kids had moved from the streets where they had to shout to be heard to a cramped room where everyone expected them to be quiet. His children were as frustrated as he was.
Miss Scott encouraged Curly and Charlie to run around the school-yard after tutoring and before she escorted them to the boardinghouse. At least for a little while, their energy had a chance to spread its wings and fly. Simeon always had little chores for them, and he rewarded the two with cookies, corn bread, or biscuits and always with milk.
Zack chuckled. Love was in the air between Miss Scott and Simeon, and all because of Curly and Charlie. Come to think of it, they were in the middle of him and Chloe.
Zack reined in the horse and hitched it to a post in front of the house. Jumping down from the wagon, he took in a panoramic view, wanting to experience every inch of the farmhouse and the picture-perfect land. The trees, two of them statuesque oaks and one a red maple offered a crisp cool breeze. Ah, to the left of the house was an oak with the perfect branch for a rope swing. Summer heat would be tolerable with these ancient shade trees. He’d need a dog, too. Not a real big one, but one whose care would teach the twins responsibility. A small, red-roofed barn sat behind the house. Hank had said the loft had a few bails of hay in case the twins found themselves with a pony. Not yet, but maybe next spring. To the right of the property lay an apple orchard, and to the left stood a pecan grove. Knowing Hank, the trees were healthy and big producers.
Zack made his way back to the front porch and climbed the steps. The porch reminded him of the old parsonage where his grandparents had lived until their deaths a few years ago. Even a rose trellis climbed one side of the porch. A twinge of bittersweet memories crept through him as he remembered his white-haired grandfather, who preached the love of God and the justice of His ways. And his grandmother, who was the strongest woman he’d ever met. They had died within weeks of each other, as though one couldn’t bear the joy of heaven without the other.
A door slammed, alerting him to the fact he was not alone. Had someone broken into the home? He’d learn soon enough. He hurried down the front steps and around to the side of the house to the back porch in time to see a man race across the barnyard toward the pecan trees.
“Hey, you. Hold up there. What are you doing on private property?”
The man kept right on running. Hopefully Hank’s house hadn’t been ransacked. The thought angered Zack. Too many people in this world would rather take from others instead of working and earning a decent living. He watched the man disappear into the trees and hoped he didn’t return.
Before entering the house, Zack realized it was destined to be his no matter if a vandal’s mischief required some repair. The window on the back porch wasn’t broken. How had the man gotten inside without a key? The knob to the back door opened with a click. Holding his breath, he stepped inside. Lord, let this home not be vandalized. And Lord, let this be the home for my family.
Zack blinked in the shadows. The curtains had been tightly drawn, keeping out the light of day. He used both hands to pull back the curtains first from one window by a small table and then from another window over a sink and pump. Light streamed in and illuminated a large kitchen. Plenty big enough for a growing family. For a moment, he allowed himself to daydream about Curly and Charlie doing homework at the table while Chloe prepared a meal.
Standing in the middle of the room, he glanced in all directions. His nose detected the scent of burning wood. The wooden cookstove felt warm, and when he inserted the lifter to pull out the lid, a log smoldered inside. Someone had been cold for sure. The fellow he’d seen running from the house must not have had anything to cook. Zack replaced the iron lid. Nothing was broken. The man had been staying here with no thought of doing damage. Zack’s heart softened a bit. How sad. His thoughts about the fellow began to carry more compassion. Chloe’s confession of living by the riverbank after her father’s death played across his mind. Sometimes folks didn’t have a choice. Maybe he’d learn who that homeless man was and could offer assistance. Once he returned to the paper, he’d discuss his findings with Hank.
To the right of the kitchen was a bedroom where a bed covered with a quilt stitched in the wedding ring pattern seized his attention. He’d recognize that pattern anywhere since his mother presented every newly married family member with one of those. How odd that Hank’s mother chose that quilt for her bed. But
if Chloe married him, it would be perfect for their room. He laughed aloud at his thoughts. So far, everything was perfect.
He walked back into the kitchen and stepped under a wooden arch leading to the dining room, where a round, claw-footed table and sideboard stood ready for folks to share a meal. After drawing back the heavy drapes, he viewed a wall of windows in an L-shape that displayed the pastures of the adjoining farm. Peaceful. No sounds from noisy boarders or goings-on in the streets. But if he closed his eyes, he could hear the sound of bubbly laughter from his children. His children. Curly and Charlie Kahler. No, Carlin and Caitlain Kahler. He didn’t mind Curly’s nickname, but oh how he wanted to call his little daughter Caitlain.
From the dining room doorway, he took in the parlor. Blankets and sheets covered a sofa and two chairs. A piano evened out a corner. Zack sat on the piano bench and stroked the keys to an old childhood tune. The mere sound reminded him of how much he missed his brother Michael Paul. They’d have some fine visiting at Christmas. His brother could out-sing the birds while playing the piano like a concert pianist. He’d make a fine preacher. Zack’s gaze focused on a brick fireplace where wood was piled high on the hearth. He remembered all the love that centered around the fireplace when he was young. Now he could create that same atmosphere for his children.
From the foyer, Zack climbed a wide, winding staircase upstairs. Two bedrooms on one side and two on the other. Plenty of room for the eight children he wanted one day. One of the beds had a wrinkled quilt. Had the man slept there?
He’d take the house. He had no reservations. It would be a stretch for a man who believed all purchases should be made in cash, but he could do this and have it paid and mortgage-free in five years. What a Christmas surprise for the twins. That meant only a few more weeks at the boardinghouse, but he’d make sure the twins’ extra time was spent in doing more constructive things than sliding down the staircase on their behinds and pretending to be birds in the dining room.