by Linda Ford
She had no idea how badly a man could fail.
* * *
Missy stared at the door. Then she shrugged. He had every right to leave her to care for the children while he did other things. She fully intended he would not regret one penny he paid her. In fact, if she managed things right, she might even make him see that he could give the children the home they deserved. He’d have to remarry or hire a housekeeper, but surely providing the children with a home was reason enough to choose a woman who would put the children’s interests above her own.
I could marry him.
She snorted as the thought echoed in her mind. She had other plans. And even if she didn’t, she had no desire to be seen as a necessary nuisance again. If she ever married— She stopped before she could complete the thought. Knowing how fragile life was, how easily it could be snatched away, leaving the survivors floundering, she didn’t plan to marry.
But if she ever changed her mind, she would marry for love. A great, consuming, overwhelming love that made it impossible to think of any option other than marriage, other than being bound together until death parted them.
She would do her utmost to help Wade find a suitable woman. Her shoulders sagged. She was hundreds of miles from where she knew all the maiden ladies. The only women she knew at Eden Valley Ranch were happily married. Where would she find someone willing to marry Wade and become a parent to Joey and Annie? It was impossible.
With God, all things are possible.
Please, Father God, send someone to love the children and be willing to marry Wade to give them the home they deserve.
Dismissing her hesitation at uttering the prayer, she went to the kitchen to help prepare dinner. The children played nearby, their gazes often darting to her as she worked.
“There’s more butter in the pantry,” Linette said, as Missy set out the meal.
Missy went to get it. When she returned, Annie and Joey stood at the end of the table, eyes wide, expressions drawn tight. Oh, no, had they thought she’d dropped out of their lives just because she’d disappeared for a moment? Her heart twisted within her chest, making her head feel light from lack of air. She set the butter aside and pulled them both to her side. “I promised I would take care of you as long as you are here, and I will.” And lest they thought it was only because she felt she had to, she knelt to face them. “I cannot think of anything in the world I would sooner do than spend time with you two.”
Annie threw her arms about Missy’s neck and hung on, her breath rushing out in a hot gust.
Joey would have hung back, but Missy pulled him against her other shoulder and pressed his head close. She smiled with a heart full of joy that she could help this pair. She knew the pain she would feel when they were wrenched away to their new home, but this was one pain she would not regret.
The outer door opened and Wade stepped inside. He took in the two children cradled in Missy’s arms and his eyes narrowed. She had no way of knowing what he thought of the scene and at the moment she did not care. She was only following her heart.
A few minutes later, the others joined them around the dinner table. As soon as the meal ended, Missy jumped up before either Louise or Linette could get to their weary feet. “You two take your babies and have a rest while I clean up.”
With grateful nods, the new mothers left the room.
“Thank you,” Eddie said.
“Yes, thank you.” Nate gave her a sideways hug.
The three men lingered over coffee as Missy did the dishes and the children played nearby.
“Are you done?” She indicated the empty coffee cups.
“Done.” Eddie pushed back his chair as she scooped them up and washed them. “Nate, why don’t I take a look at that broken wheel on your wagon?”
“I’ll help.” Wade followed the men, reaching for his coat on the hook by the door.
Missy planted herself in front of him. “What about our plans?” Had he already forgotten? She could live with being so easily dismissed, but wouldn’t allow it for the children.
His eyebrows headed upward. “We have plans?”
Heat rushed up her neck and pooled in her cheeks. He’d misunderstood, thought she mean the two of them. “An activity for the children?” she managed to choke out.
“Oh, that.” He let out a gust of air.
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Was it so challenging to think of spending time with her? Would she always be a necessary nuisance to others?
Not if she learned to be a secretary and no longer depended on anyone else.
“I can do it myself if you have other things you need to do.” She would not be treated as a nuisance. And she saw no reason the children should be, either.
“We can get along without you,” Eddie told him.
Missy hadn’t realized the two men waited at the door. What must they think of her? First, asking for Wade to stay, then practically telling him to leave? She must sound silly.
She drew her chin in. She was not silly, though perhaps a little confused by her unusual reaction to the events in which she found herself. Caring so deeply about the children and their future, torn between her feelings of being unwanted and her desire to see Wade give the children a home.
Wade returned his coat to the hook by the door. “Let’s do it.”
The other men left without him.
Linette had told Missy where to find paper and pencils, and invited her to use what she needed. She got four sheets of paper and four pencils and laid them out at the table. Grady had gone upstairs with his mama, but Joey and Annie watched with interest.
“What are we going to do?” Annie asked.
“You showed me a tradition from your family. Now I’m going to show you a tradition from mine.” She explained what they’d done when Mama and Papa were alive.
Annie took up her pencil. “But I can’t write.”
“I’ll... We’ll help you.” The look she gave Wade informed him he was part of this.
His gaze captured hers. “We’ll work together.” His quiet response brought a rush of heat to her heart. She needed to stop judging him as if he was Gordie. She had to stop letting her feelings of rejection color her attitude toward him.
“Joey writes his name very well.” At Wade’s softly spoken words, she sucked in a deep breath.
“Fine, put your name on the top of your page.” She wrote her name on hers and helped Annie, who sat at her side.
Wade and Joey, sitting side by side, wrote their names.
“Now what?” Joey asked, sounding a bit uncertain.
“Now we start listing all the good things about the past year.”
The three of them stared at the blank page, no doubt thinking the death of two people they loved and missed could not be considered good. But her goal was to help them find good despite the tragedy of their lives.
Holding the pencil, her hand hovered over the paper as she realized she needed this exercise as much as they did. “There are things in life that make us unhappy and sad.” Her voice was low. She hoped they wouldn’t hear the strain that made her throat tight. “Those things are like clouds hiding the sun.” To illustrate, she drew a little sketch. “Some clouds are white and fluffy. Some are dark and heavy.” She added a dark one to her drawing. “But if we push them aside, the sun is still shining and it makes things bright.” She erased the clouds and drew a field of flowers and trees and birds.
Annie nodded. “That’s nice.”
Joey and Wade wore matching expressions of doubt.
Missy smiled at how alike they were. “Let’s see how many good things we can remember. I’ll go first.” She bent over the paper and wrote “Baby Chloe.” “I love my little niece and I am so happy she’s here.”
Joey’s expression relaxed a bit, but Wade’s was
still tight.
Missy looked at the three who shared the table. “Who wants to go next?”
“Me.” Annie edged her paper toward Missy. “Write your name.”
“My name?” Missy wasn’t sure she understood the child’s intent.
“Yes. I’m glad we found you.”
Missy’s heart stalled. Her gaze slid toward Wade. He watched her unblinkingly, his blue eyes giving away nothing. She swallowed hard. Did he object to the child’s request? Perhaps he was concerned Missy would have a bad influence on the children, that she’d suggest they should bombard him with demands for him to keep them. No, she silently informed him. She’d be the one doing the bombarding.
Joey bent over his paper. “I want to write her name, too.”
Wade jerked his attention to the boy and Missy turned back to Annie. She wrote her name on Annie’s paper.
Wade spelled out her name for Joey to print on his paper and then, to Missy’s consternation, he wrote it on his own. She stared at the letters forming her name. Black. Thick. Solid. She tried to make sense of seeing them on his page, in what was supposed to be a list of good things. If she’d given it a bit of thought she might have predicted the children would count her as a good thing. But Wade? She fought to keep from looking at him.
“Is that bad?” Joey asked, misconstruing her silence.
She turned her attention back to the children. “Not at all. I’m so touched I can’t think of what to say.”
Annie patted Missy’s hand. “You’ll think of something.”
Missy chuckled. “I suppose I will.”
Satisfied that things were back to normal, Annie studied Missy’s page. “What else are you going to put on yours?”
“You two for sure.” She wrote their names.
“But what about Uncle Wade?” At the uncertainty in Joey’s voice, Missy held the pencil poised above the paper, wanting to satisfy the boy, but not wanting to give Wade cause to think her too forward.
Then she thought of a solution. “I’m grateful Uncle Wade brought you here.” She wrote that down and sat back, satisfied with her answer.
Only then did she allow her gaze to go to Wade. Her breath stalled at the flat blue of his eyes, like lake water on a cloudy day. Had she offended him by writing his name on her list? Perhaps he saw it as an attempt on her part to link them together.
How could she make it clear that was not her intention? Ah, by reminding him her only desire was to make the season enjoyable for the children.
“I can’t think of anyone I’d sooner spend Christmas with than you two,” she told them. “Now what else do you want to put on your list of good things?”
“My dollies.”
Missy dutifully added it to Annie’s sheet and drew two tiny dolls for good measure.
“My ball,” Joey said, and he wrote the words, drew a ball and grinned at her.
She grinned right back. This was part of the enjoyment she’d hoped and prayed for. Helping all of them remember the good things.
“Your turn, Uncle Wade,” Joey prompted.
“That’s easy. You two.” He wrote their names and drew two stick figure children.
“What else?” Annie perched her knees on her chair and leaned across the table to watch her uncle. “Something different.”
“Hmm.” He tapped the pencil against his chin and looked past Missy.
She waited, her heart beating solidly against her ribs. Somehow she knew whatever he decided to put on his list would please the children.
He nodded, bent over the paper and drew a tall triangle.
Two dark-haired little children watched.
“What is it?” Joey asked.
“You can’t tell?” Wade pretended to look shocked.
Both children shook their heads.
“Humph. I thought you’d know immediately. Maybe this will help.” He drew a square shape at the bottom of the triangle and a star at the top.
“A Christmas tree?” Joey sounded as if he thought his guess was foolish.
“Of course it’s a Christmas tree. It’s a real good thing that I can spend Christmas with you.” His look included Missy and she couldn’t help but feel pleased. Whether or not he meant to include her in his gratitude, it felt good to think so. To think she might be a welcome addition rather than a necessary nuisance. The words had become a constant echo in her head.
She dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. This wasn’t a time for regrets but for rejoicing.
For the better part of an hour, they added to their lists. The children included food, warm mittens that their mama made, the candy Wade had given them. Missy was about to turn the activity toward a prayer for the New Year, or even a play, when Joey grew so serious she feared he would cry.
He sat back. “I forgot the best stuff.”
Missy darted a look at Wade. He shook his head to indicate he had no idea what the boy meant, then turned to his nephew. “What’s the best stuff?”
For answer, Joey leaned over the paper, pencil in hand. With the tip of his tongue peeking from his mouth, he studiously and carefully drew two stick figures, a man and a woman. He drew a hat on the head of the man and put a boy and girl between the figures. When he was done he looked up. “The best thing in the world was having Mama and Papa. They loved us.”
Tears clogged the back of Missy’s throat and she couldn’t utter a word.
“They surely did,” Wade managed to say, his voice hoarse.
Annie touched the stick figures. “Mama and Papa,” she whispered, then sat back and attempted to draw a man and a woman on her own paper. Her efforts were crude but it was clear to them all what she intended to portray.
“The second best thing.” Joey turned his attention back to his paper, but he didn’t draw anything. “I don’t know how to draw God.” His voice quavered.
Wade pulled the paper closer, but his pencil never touched the page, either. “How do you draw God?” He shoved the sheet toward Missy.
She shook her head. “You can’t draw God.”
“Yes, you can.” Annie pulled the page toward her and drew a big circle that enclosed all the stick figures and toys and everything. “God is all around us. He’s everywhere.”
“Indeed He is.” She hugged the child tight.
Wade reached across the table and cupped his hand over Annie’s head. When he met Missy’s gaze, his eyes were full of warmth and life and—dare she think?—regret. If that was what she saw she silently prayed he would turn his regret into action and do something to keep these children.
He reached for Joey and pulled him close. “You two are pretty special,” he murmured.
“They certainly are.” She knew a warning note had crept into her voice, but she couldn’t help it. How could anyone think of letting these two precious children go? To strangers, at that.
She held his unblinking gaze, silently, persistently letting him know her opinion.
He shifted and bent over his paper again to draw a box with four legs, a neck and a head.
The children watched, trying to guess what it was. He added a tail and mane.
“A horse!” Joey crowed. “A funny-looking horse.”
“Of course it’s a horse.” On the ground beside the horse, he drew a cowboy hat, and then laid the pencil down and faced Missy, giving a slight tilt of his head toward the paper.
She understood his message. He was a cowboy. There was no room in his life for children.
“There’s nothing in this life that can’t be changed,” she said in a quiet, firm tone. She didn’t know how long she had with them, but whether it was a day or two, thirty or longer, she would continue to urge him to reconsider and find a way to keep the kids.
Chapter Four
Wade shifted his gaze
away from Missy. Why must she ruin every occasion with her insistence that he should, could and must keep the children? Did she think it was easy to contemplate giving them away? His arm tightened about Joey until the boy squirmed. Wade relaxed his hold, though everything in him wanted to pull the pair to his chest and keep them there.
He would think only of what was best for them. In the meantime, he had a few days to build a store of memories to take with him into the future...a future that, for him, looked as barren as the rock face of a cliff.
“What’s next?” he asked, in an attempt to divert his thoughts.
She startled and looked from him to the papers, paused as if to collect her thoughts. “Now we write a prayer for the New Year.” The words seemed to come from a distant spot.
“You say prayers,” Annie protested.
“You can write them, too.”
“Why?” Joey, always the practical one, demanded.
Missy drew in a breath and slowly smiled. “I think my mama and papa thought it would help us remember what we prayed. They encouraged us to put our papers in a drawer or in our Bible so we could see how God was answering our prayers.”
The children looked as intrigued as Wade.
Joey leaned closer to Missy. “What sort of prayer did you write?”
Although Missy smiled at the boy, her eyes filled with a faraway look, as if she’d gone back to a time when her parents were alive. “Well, let’s see. Mama and Papa encouraged us to be honest about what we prayed, but to try and not be selfish.” She chuckled.
Wade realized he was leaning forward, as eager as Joey to hear what amused her, and forced himself to ease back.
“I remember one year I wrote ‘Dear God, I know you can do anything, so maybe you could make Eliza be nice to me.’ Eliza was my friend.”
Annie’s eyes were wide. “Did your mama and papa scold you?”
“No.” Missy stroked the child’s head. Wade realized Annie’s hair was braided just as Susan used to braid it, and his throat tightened with longing, loss and a hundred other emotions.