by DiAnn Mills
“What’s wrong?” Charlie said, her round face a mixture of concern and confusion. “Why is Poppy mad?”
Chloe wrapped her arms around the little girl’s shoulder. “He’s not angry with either of you. Those aren’t kittens you found but skunks. Let’s step out onto the porch.”
“Skunks, Miss Chloe? You mean the ones that smell awful?”
She nodded. “And the smell is very hard to get out of clothes.”
She saw a curly red head peek around the back of the barn. “Poppy, we found kittens.”
“Run to me now as fast as you can. Those aren’t kittens. Those are skunks!”
Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. If need be, they’d wash the little boy’s clothes in tomato juice and scrub him until he smelled sweet and clean again. Life with Curly and Charlie was never dull.
Zack raced to sweep Curly up into his arms and then carried the little boy to the porch. “We’re fine,” he said. “No skunks for us.”
Chapter 24
Late Sunday afternoon, Chloe opened the door into the boardinghouse. The familiar jingle offered no comfort, but the events with Zack and the children warmed her to her toes. She laughed aloud at the picture of Zack racing after Curly before the little boy could be sprayed by a skunk.
Inside her home and workplace, the aroma of Simeon’s roast beef dinner wafted through the air. Expectancy of Christmas filled her with sincere peace. Friends, good dear friends, always made the ups and downs of life a little easier to bear.
She heard Miss Scott laugh, and Chloe ventured into the dining room. Simeon sat across a table from Miss Scott and another young woman. Could this be Miss Scott’s niece Rose?
Chloe stepped into the dining room. “Good evening.”
“Oh, Chloe,” Miss Scott scooted back from her chair and stood. “Please, come meet my niece.”
The young woman in question joined her aunt. Large brown eyes veiled with a thick curtain of lashes peeked from under a mountain of light brown curls. Not at all what Chloe had expected.
Chloe made her way toward the small gathering, not certain if she should interrupt her friends and guest. “I’m delighted to meet you,” she said. “Your aunt has told me so much about you.”
A sweet smile greeted her. “And the same of you.”
“I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
Rose laughed lightly. “The train was incredibly crowded. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere in the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. Won’t you join us? It appears that you and I have been frequent topics of conversation between Simeon and Aunt Annabelle.”
Chloe liked Rose instantly. “For only a moment. I’m really quite tired.”
Miss Scott asked all the proper questions about Zack’s home and her little students. All the while, her gaze flitted from Simeon to her niece as if not certain who should have her attention.
Chloe yawned. “Please, excuse me. I think I’ll leave you three to visit. Rose, I hope we have time to chat while you are here.”
“We’ll make time.” She shrugged prettily. “It may be a foursome. I’ve been given the position of chaperone between my aunt and Mr. Simeon.”
“We can make sure the two mind their manners.” Chloe laughed and turned to leave the room. She nearly ran into Mr. Barton in the hallway.
“Miss Weaver, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Mr. Barton.” She nodded. “Miss Scott and her niece are visiting in the dining room with Simeon. Perhaps you’d like to greet them.”
He stepped into the dining room at the same time as Miss Scott, Rose, and Simeon turned their attention to Chloe and Mr. Barton.
Rose’s expressive eyes widened, much like Charlie’s did when the little girl was startled. In an instant, the young woman regained her composure. Chloe studied the young woman. Did she know Mr. Barton? She glanced at her employer. For a moment his gaze lingered on the lovely young woman. Was there a spark of romance in the air? Oh, please, let it be so.
Chloe held her breath. Jacob Barton, don’t you dare be too stubborn not to note what just happened between you two.
“Mr. Barton, I’m so glad you are here,” Miss Scott said. “I’m pleased to present my niece Rose Scott. She’s nearly finished with college in Dallas, and she will be teaching school this time next year.”
Mr. Barton made his way to the table and took Rose’s offered hand. “How good of you to spend the holiday with our Miss Scott.”
“Thank you, sir.” And the pleasantries passed for a few moments.
“Again, I bid you all good night,” Chloe said.
Mr. Barton immediately hastened to her side. “So early, Miss Weaver? Do share a few moments with me in the parlor. You’ve decorated the room so beautifully, and it seems a waste for us not to enjoy it.”
Chloe wanted to shake him. “I’m exhausted—”
“Ten minutes?”
With the other three observing, she gave in to Mr. Barton’s invitation. But his attempts at wooing her wouldn’t work. He could smile, offer theater tickets, bring flowers, and flatter her until he was exhausted and taken to bed, but her heart belonged to Zack. The afternoon with him and the twins had convinced her that he cared for her as much as she did him.
“I owe you an apology,” Mr. Barton said a short while later. He gathered up her hand into his. “I’ve been thinking all day about what I’d planned for New Year’s Eve. How wrong of me to assume you’d welcome the trip to Houston. I will do better in the future.”
A hundred responses, or rather retorts, crawled through her mind. Yet responding one more time to torment him was as brutal as mocking his affections. If she trusted God for eternity, then she needed to trust this awkward situation to His safekeeping. This evening, no answers to the dilemma came to her other than to accept Mr. Barton’s apology with the sincerity in which it was given. She gently pulled her hand from his.
“I’ve already forgotten it. No need to concern yourself with the matter.”
She also prayed that what she’d seen pass between Mr. Barton and Rose Scott was not wishful thinking but something beautiful—and a way out for her.
*****
Zack stacked the day’s papers at the front of the newspaper office so folks could easily pick up a copy and leave their payment in the nearby cup. With his thoughts jumping from the house purchase to the twins to his feelings for Chloe, he didn’t hear or see his uncle Morgan walk in.
“Hey, Zack. How’s the newspaper business?”
He whirled around and made long strides to shake his uncle’s hand. “It’s going well. Did you stop by for today’s copy?”
“That I did—and to bring you something.” He waved a large envelope. “The judge from New York has made a decision.”
“And?” Anticipation as big as all Texas settled on him.
“He looked at all we had compiled and signed the adoption papers. Curly and Charlie are now officially Kahlers. Merry Christmas!”
Zack couldn’t stop grinning. What a grand Christmas, too. “I’m an official father. For a while, I feared I was playing a child’s game of make-believe.”
“This document proves differently. I believe this calls for a celebration,” Morgan said. “Why don’t you and the twins come to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll see if Grant and Jenny and Bonnie and Travis can come with Lydia Anne and Stuart. It’s not every day that our family increases by two.”
“Are you sure? I mean with Christmas coming, does Aunt Casey want to cook for all of us?”
“I’m sure of it. This is a special day, and I’m a selfish enough man to make sure the whole town knows about it.” He took in the sights of the newspaper office. “I think the adoption news would make a great newspaper story. Don’t you?”
“I know the man to write it.”
Morgan handed Zack the envelope. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. We’ll be there for dinner. Please, nothing fancy. Bacon and eggs suit my household just fine.”
Morgan greet
ed Hank on the way to the door. “Don’t let my nephew forget he’s to have dinner tomorrow night at my house.” He swung his attention back to Zack. “Will Chloe be with you?”
“She has to work. But I’ll be sneaking by the boardinghouse to give her the good news.” Even if he had to have someone enter the establishment and coax her to come out.
Zack wanted to tell the twins right then. Glancing at the clock on his desk, he saw it was an hour past noon. He could walk over to the school and give Curly and Charlie the good news. Waiting until evening would drive him insane.
“I’m heading over to the school,” he called to Hank. “I won’t be gone long.”
“I have a ham sandwich for you and Gil from the missus. It’ll save for later.”
“Don’t let Gil eat mine.” He laughed and waved at the young man who was thin enough to be a hitching post.
Zack whipped off his apron and wiped his hands on a rag near the typesetter. “Yahoo! I’m a real father.” He hurried out the door toward the school. A wisp of cool air gave him the energy of a boy. As he rushed along, he remembered how the way from town to school used to take so long. Since then, the town had grown to encompass the school. Progress had a way of making a man nostalgic. With the tall oak tree in the middle of the schoolyard waving its familiar hello, a dozen boyhood memories danced across his mind. He surely hoped his two children didn’t follow in their father’s footsteps.
He paused for a moment when he saw Dad’s buggy parked in front of the church. The temptation to tell him about the adoption needled at him. Shaking his head, Zack kept his sights on the school—and his real children. Legal. Kahlers.
Some of the students were playing outside, including his Curly and Charlie. What a good ring Kahler had to his children’s names. Suddenly he frowned. Why was Jacob Barton talking to his children? And why was Chloe with him?
“Poppy,” Curly and Charlie chorused. They jumped down from a small bench and ran toward him, leaving Chloe and Barton behind.
What were they carrying?
“We have cookies.” Curly held up a giant sugar cookie, but the telltale crumbs on his mouth and chin said much more.
Zack bent down and hugged them both—cookie crumbs and all. “Hmm. Where did you get those huge cookies?”
Charlie waved her hand. “We all have them. Mr. Simeon made them for the whole school, and Miss Chloe and Mr. Barton brought them to us.”
That made sense, but it didn’t make him any happier or any less jealous.
“You wanna bite?” Charlie said.
“Let’s get Poppy his own cookie,” Curly said.
“Oh no. I’m fine. I really came to see you two.” Zack wondered if his news would be as well received as the sugar cookies. Perhaps he should have waited until this afternoon.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No, Curly.” He grinned into his son’s amber-colored eyes. Here in the sun, both of his children’s eyes looked like bright gold nuggets. “This is good news for all of us.”
“Hello, Zack.”
Chloe’s sweet voice was like a soothing balm and a stick of peppermint candy at the same time. He could listen to her for the rest of his life.
“I see you and Jacob are treating the town’s children.”
She laughed. “This was Mr. Barton’s idea. He wanted to give the school children a special treat. Honestly I should be helping Simeon clean up from lunch. I’m having such a good time while he’s washing and drying a huge stack of dishes.”
“Poppy has something to tell us,” Charlie said. “It’s ’posed to be good.”
Chloe’s gaze flew to his. Did Barton ever receive the same pleasant chill when she smiled?
“I’ll leave you to your privacy.”
How did she always know the perfect thing to say? “It’s all right. Please, stay. I planned to find a way to tell you tonight.” He drew the twins into his arms. “The judge in New York signed the adoption papers. You are officially Curly and Charlie Kahler, and I’m your poppy.”
The twins scrambled to hug him harder, and in the process, he toppled to the ground. Their laughter mingled with Chloe’s and chased away the green demon that had attacked him at the sight of her and Jacob together.
“We won’t ever go back to the orphanage?” Curly said.
“Nope. Your home is my home. We’re stuck with each other.”
Charlie broke her cookie in half and handed it to him while he still lay on the ground. “Here, Poppy. I want you to have this.”
He took a generous bite. “I believe I have the best children in town.”
And soon they will have the perfect mother.
“Miss Scott will be so happy,” Curly said. “And I’ll thank Mr. Barton again for bringing us cookies on our ’doption day.”
Jacob made his way to their side. “Sounds like a happy trio here.”
Zack stood up, wiped his dirt-covered hand on his trousers, and shook the man’s hand. “The adoption papers came through today. We’re celebrating.”
“Congratulations. The three of you should spend lots of time doing things together. Children need their father’s attention with no one else around.”
Zack inwardly cringed. Barton, I understand exactly what you’re saying. But this will not always be a trio. Chloe will one day share my name, my house, and our children.
Chapter 25
The morning after the adoption news, Zack woke earlier than usual. Excitement about Christmas, his children, and the love he’d seen in Chloe’s eyes the afternoon before filled his head. With the sun rising in spectacular colors of pale orange, yellow, and purple, he noted the temperatures had dropped during the night to near freezing. That was Texas for almost three months of the year. The rest of the time, folks lived in warm to hot weather. He leaned against the porch post and sipped on his black, strong coffee.
For whatever reason, God had blessed him repeatedly this fall. Certainly wasn’t anything Zack had done to deserve it, but God’s grace covered valleys and rough spots—and mistakes. Zack praised God for his children, his home, the success of the newspaper, and the wonderful woman He’d placed in his life. Sure was easier praising God for the good things than the bad. But Dad had taught him years ago to praise God no matter what was happening in his life. Three months ago, he thought his life had been carefully laid out: come home to Kahlerville and publish the best newspaper this town had ever seen. And he still labored for that endeavor. But Curly and Charlie had wriggled their way into his heart and caused him to feel things he didn’t know existed.
Then there was Chloe. He laughed and took another gulp of coffee. To think he’d almost settled for counterfeit love with . . . all of a sudden he couldn’t remember the woman’s name that had broken his heart. Or so he thought. Chloe, the mere sound of her name was like the topic of a poem. If he were a poet, he’d compose a piece of literature in her honor. He’d begin by comparing her beauty to a Texas sunrise and end it by comparing her again to a Texas sunset. Wouldn’t his uncles get a laugh out of that one?
He breathed in the crisp air, filling his lungs with clean air—and a sense of purpose. He treasured this time of the morning. It offered quiet moments with God along with a reflection on yesterday and how He directed Zack for the day. His gaze moved toward the barn. Something caught his attention. Had a stray dog found its way into the barn for the night? Zack studied a shadowy figure. It was a man. The figure slipped around to the side of the barn. Had he slept there? Was this the subject of the town’s talk?
“Hey, there. What are you doing?”
Zack set his cup on the porch step and set out toward the barn. If the man was hungry, then he’d be fed. If the man was up to no good, Zack could handle that, too.
The man took off on a run with Zack close behind. He chased the intruder toward the pecan grove. In the shadows, he looked like the same fellow Zack had chased away the first time he came to view the property.
“Stop there. I just want to talk.”
Th
e figure raced ahead, but Zack was faster and quickly caught up. He grabbed the man by the shoulder then swung him to the ground. Zack straddled him, pinning him with such force that the man groaned. It wasn’t a man at all, but a boy nearly grown. Even in the early morning light, Zack recognized the face.
“You’re the one I saw when I came to view the house and property. You’d fired up the cookstove, and you were sleeping in one of the beds. Now you’re sleeping in my barn. Don’t you have a home, boy?”
“I wasn’t hurtin’ nothin’ in the house or in the barn.”
“Are you the one swiping food from the boardinghouse?”
“They leave it for me, and I put the plate and fork back.”
“And that makes it all right? What about the coffee and blankets you stole from the wagon parked outside the newspaper office?”
The boy swallowed hard. Zack eyed his dirty face and clothes. From the smell attacking his nostrils, he figured it had been a while since the boy had bathed.
“Why don’t you come inside the house where it’s warm? I’ll heat some water so you can take a bath before breakfast.” Zack had yet to release the boy beneath him. He wanted to make sure the intruder didn’t come at him with flying fists.
“Why would you do that?” The boy eyed him with an air of suspicion and fear.
“Because it looks to me like you’re in need of both.”
“A real Good Samaritan, huh? Is that why you wrote the newspaper article?”
Zack chuckled. “So you know who I am.”
“I might.”
“How long were you staying inside my house before I caught you?”
“Why?”
“How’d you get in?”
The young man frowned. “While the old man who owns the place was in the barn. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Maybe a name. Maybe a reason why you’re using my barn for a bed.”
“Can’t do either one.”
“Why? No guts, boy? You steal around like a thief and hide out, but you haven’t the guts to state your name?”