by Linda Ford
She muffled a groan. Never again would she be a burden to anyone. Never. Secretarial school was her pathway to establishing that independence.
But in the meantime, the men took turns watching the place, missing their sleep, carrying long guns when they normally didn’t. Surely all this caution was for nothing. She’d tell Wade and Eddie there was no reason for concern.
She shivered again as she pictured Vic jumping out from behind a tree and grabbing her.
“My feet cold?” Annie asked, without taking them away.
“Like ice.” Though it was not Annie’s cold feet that made her shiver.
“Mary likes Martha. They’re best friends forever,” Annie said, and proceeded to tell her all the things her dolls liked to do. Then Annie rose on her elbow and studied Missy.
“Today is the party.”
“Uh-huh. You’re letting the cold air under the blanket.”
Annie lay down again. “The others aren’t coming until after dinner, right?”
“That’s right.”
Annie let out a long-suffering sigh. “What will we do this morning?”
Missy would have liked to say they’d sleep a few more hours, but she understood how long the morning would seem to the children. “I suppose we could make cookies for the party.”
“Goody.” Annie bounced, again letting in a rush of cold air.
Missy threw back the covers. “Run upstairs and get dressed. Then you can help me make breakfast.” She’d heard the faint cries of an infant during the night and knew the newborns had kept their mamas up for hours. As soon as Annie departed, Missy scrambled into her clothes and hurried to the kitchen to begin breakfast.
“I’m back,” Annie said.
“Good. I need someone to measure out raisins for the porridge.” She handed a cup to Annie and let her tackle the job on her own.
“I’ll help, too.”
Missy glanced up as Joey entered the kitchen, and saw Wade beside him. His hair had been slicked back, turning it a chocolate brown. He was freshly shaved and considered her with unblinking blue eyes.
“Good morning.” His deep voice thrummed inside her chest.
“Good morning,” she managed to reply, as a dozen conflicting thoughts flooded her mind. How good it was to see him standing there. How his presence made her muscles go all twitchy. “I regret that you feel you must keep watch every night. I’m sure it’s unnecessary.”
He shrugged. “It’s not an unpleasant task. Gives a man plenty of time to think.” The way he studied her face brought a rush of heat up her neck.
What was wrong with her? The man said a simple, straightforward thing and she immediately thought he meant her. Likely he had lots more important things to think about.
“What do you want me to do?” Joey asked, drawing her attention away from Wade.
She turned back to her task. “You could put jam in these dishes.” She tried not to be aware of Wade crossing toward the stove. He stood very close behind her and reached past her right shoulder with a tea towel in his hand to lift the coffeepot. Then he sidestepped and poured himself a cupful. When he took a sip a moment later, he sighed. “Good.” He patted her shoulder. “Sure do appreciate having hot coffee waiting for me.”
She’d been stirring the porridge, but her hands grew still. Her muscles tightened. His words confounded her almost as much as his touch. “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she managed to squeak out.
The air between them grew still, expectant, even though the children clattered about and chattered.
Missy turned, silently questioning the sudden change, and her lungs refused to work at the look in his eyes. She could almost describe it as surprised, even curious.
“I expect you often hear how much you’re appreciated.”
She lifted one shoulder—half dismissive, half regretful.
He smiled slowly, with the power of the dawning sun, and she blinked as if she’d stared into its blinding brightness. “Well, if they don’t say it I know they have overlooked it, for you are the most helpful creature I’ve ever seen.”
Her mouth grew slack. Her tongue refused to function. Helpful? Not burdensome? She let herself drown in the depths of his sky-blue eyes.
Still holding her gaze, he sipped again from his cup. “Good.” He went to the table and she returned to preparing breakfast, but something inside her had shifted and she was at a loss to say what it was.
* * *
Apart from slipping in for dinner, which he ate hurriedly, then left again with a murmur about some chore, Wade forced himself to stay away from the house until the party began. After that, he would not deny his desire to be where he could watch Missy, catch her eye from time to time and maybe even speak to her once in a while.
Three wagons drew up to the house at the same time as the Jones children trooped across the yard. The guests had arrived, so now he could reasonably head indoors.
The party gave him a good reason to be present. He intended to help Missy make this an event the children would remember years after they became part of another family. His hurried steps ground to a halt as pain sucked at his insides. He drew in a slow, strengthening breath. A man must do what was best, not what felt good. To do otherwise was simply selfish.
He resumed his journey, entering the house several minutes after the last of the guests.
The adults congregated in the kitchen, visiting, while the children gathered in the sitting room, where all the furniture had been pushed back so they had room to play.
Missy glanced up as he entered, then resumed giving instructions for a game of Button, Button to the children, who sat in a circle on the floor.
He paused, wondering what he could do to help. Joey saw him and shifted to one side, making room for him. “Come and play with us, Uncle Wade.”
“Sure.” He sat cross-legged beside his nephew, awkwardly aware that even folded, his legs took up a lot of area.
The children all held their palms together in front of them. Wade imitated the pose.
Missy circled the room pretending to drop a button into the hands of the children. He’d played this game as a child and knew what to expect. She’d drop the button into one pair of hands and Neil, who was “it,” had to guess where it was.
She paused in front of Wade’s legs and leaned over. He held out his hands and she brushed hers across them, as she had with the children. She didn’t give him the button, but did give him a whole lot of disconcerting thoughts. Never in all the times he’d played this game had he ever experienced such a reaction. His heart raced. His mouth grew dry. His head pounded.
Maybe he was getting sick. Or maybe he was a foolish man who overreacted to a simple touch.
That was it. Nothing he need get concerned about.
She was done and stood to one side as Neil went around the circle. He had three guesses. On the second, he pointed at Joey. “You have it.” He’d guessed right.
The game continued for a time. Wade laughed and cheered with the rest of them, but his attention constantly sought Missy.
They switched to a more active game. Always on the go, Missy grew flushed as she directed the children, making sure everyone was included, even little Pansy, Cassie and Roper’s two-year-old.
The game switched again, this time to Blind Man’s Bluff. The children called for Missy to be blindfolded.
Wade stood back against the wall, letting her try to catch one of the children.
Daisy called Missy, teasing her toward her. But at the last second Daisy darted out of the way and Missy caught Wade.
Her hands rested on his forearms and she grew very still as if she’d forgotten to breathe.
“Guess who it is,” Joey called.
“I think it’s your uncle Wade.” She sounded as if the blindfold had slipped
to her mouth, muffling her words.
“That’s right. Now Uncle Wade is ‘it.’”
She pulled the scarf off her eyes and handed it to him. “Play with them while I prepare the treats.” And without a backward look, she hurried to the kitchen.
Wade would have followed, demanding to know if she was upset about something, but the children clamored around him and he turned his attention back to them.
A few minutes later they were called into the kitchen and the children wolfed down cookies and milk. Then Missy handed out the hard rock candy, which earned her many thanks.
The adults seemed in no hurry to leave and the children were content playing together. Missy served cookies and tea to the adults and answered a hundred questions from the children. Then, one by one, the guests left, with an invitation to return Sunday evening to jointly welcome in the New Year.
Missy sank to a chair and puffed out her lips in a sigh.
It was the first time she’d sat down since the party began. She must be exhausted. She poured so much into their lives, and not just for Annie and Joey. She’d given Wade something, too, though he wasn’t prepared to give it a name. It was enough to acknowledge that much.
Perhaps he could also give her something as repayment besides the few dollars he meant to pay her.
But what did he have to give?
Chapter Ten
The thought came to him over supper. When Missy started to get up to get more potatoes, he rushed to his feet.
“I’ll do it.” He refilled the bowl and took it to the table.
She blushed.
He hesitated before he returned to his place. Did she think because he’d helped he thought she couldn’t manage? Then it hit him. She kept trying to do everything because she was afraid she’d be considered a nuisance if she sat and let someone else do it.
Well, he’d soon disabuse her of that notion.
“I think Missy deserves a break tonight after all she’s done.”
“Absolutely,” Linette agreed, and the others echoed the same.
“Oh, no. I’ll do my share,” Missy protested.
Wade sat back, prepared to point out if the others didn’t how she’d done more than her share, but a chorus of protests echoed around the table.
Linette summed it up perfectly. “You’ve done more than your share and we’ve noticed. It’s been truly appreciated, but it’s your turn this evening to sit back while we clean up.”
Wade grinned as she finally accepted the offer.
He helped gather the dirty dishes. He took the scraps out for the cats waiting at the back door. After years of living on his own, he knew how to clean the place up, knew how to wash dishes, even knew how to bake a passable batch of biscuits.
That gave him an idea. He’d make breakfast tomorrow. It meant he’d have to get up early and likely have to argue with Missy about whether or not she should help, but this was one thing he could do to show his gratitude to her.
* * *
The next morning, he tiptoed from his room before he heard anyone else stir. He’d added wood to the embers in the stove and had flour measured out when Missy flew into the room, strands of her blond hair hanging about her face as if she’d hurriedly put it up.
He grinned, kind of enjoying this version of her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, tucking back one wayward lock.
“Making biscuits for breakfast.” He spoke so matter-of-factly that he had the pleasure of seeing her speechless.
For all of five seconds, which was likely a record.
“I can make breakfast,” she sputtered.
“Seems so. But I can, too. I’ve done it most every day for about six years now.”
“But you don’t need to.”
He kept his attention on chopping lard into the flour, thoroughly enjoying her reaction. “Nope, I don’t need to. I want to.”
She stood in the middle of the floor, her hands twisting, her mouth opening and closing without uttering a word.
His enjoyment of the moment grew. He stirred in milk until he had the right consistency, then rolled and cut the biscuits and placed them on a cookie sheet. He checked the temperature of the oven. Perfect. He put the biscuits to bake, then began preparing the potatoes to fry.
Still she stood there. “Why?” she finally managed to ask.
“Why what? Why am I making potatoes? Don’t you like fried potatoes?”
“I like them fine.” Exasperation dripped from her voice. “Why are you making breakfast?”
Then and only then did he turn and face her full on, and immediately wondered if it was a wise move. The bewildered look in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms and pat her head. Thankfully, he resisted the urge.
“I guess you could say I want to show my thanks, and this was all I could think of to do.”
“Thanks?”
He grinned. She seemed to have lost her ability to say much. “For all you’ve done.”
“What have I done?” Suspicion crept into her voice.
“I could mention a lot of things, but I need to get the potatoes frying.” He turned back to the stove.
“Maybe you could mention a few just to clear up my confusion.”
He chuckled at her dry tone. “Okay, but don’t distract me. I’ve got a meal to make here.” He prepared a fry pan for the potatoes. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you coffee.”
She hesitated. Then, with a half-annoyed sigh, she sat.
He poured coffee, added a generous amount of cream and took it to her.
She stared at the contents. “How did you know I take cream?”
He shrugged. “Just know, I guess.” Just as he knew a hundred tiny details about her. Like how one eyebrow lifted slightly when she was talking about her past. How she always put her fork down precisely beside her plate between bites. How she hummed as she worked, though he wondered if she was even aware of her habit.
She lifted the cup, sipped a mouthful and sighed in pleasure. “Good coffee.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now what is this all about?”
“Missy, you have been so good to all of us, taking care of the meals, taking care of the children, even giving them a party they will remember for a long time. I just thought it was time someone did something for you and showed you our gratitude. That’s all.”
He returned to the stove. Annie and Joey skidded into the room, took in the sight of him at the stove and Missy sitting at the table, but said nothing. Grady entered more slowly.
“Could the three of you set the table, please?” Wade asked.
They did. As the other adults joined them, he fried eggs, then served up a breakfast of golden biscuits, crispy fried potatoes and perfectly presented eggs. A fine breakfast if he did say so himself. He grinned at the approval of the others.
“I’m glad you gave Missy a break from all the cooking,” Linette said as she scraped up the last of her meal. “She’s done a fine job and we truly appreciate it, but I feel up to taking over again.”
Louise spoke. “I’m feeling fine, too. Why don’t we take turns cooking or at least work together?”
Missy started to protest. “I can do it. After all, you have new babies to care for.”
When the meal was over, little Chloe started to fuss. Louise lifted her from the basket and handed her to Missy. “You sit and enjoy your little niece while Linette and I do the dishes.”
If Wade wasn’t mistaken, tears glistened in Missy’s eyes as she sat in the rocking chair, the baby cradled to her shoulder.
If they were alone, he would have asked the reason for those tears.
* * *
Smelling sweet and clean, the baby nuzzled into Missy’s shoulder and made little sucking noises. Annie leaned against Missy’s other sh
oulder. Not saying anything. Not doing anything. Simply enjoying the contact.
Tears stung Missy’s eyes as she caught a momentary glimpse of what life could be like—with a home, a baby, children and a man who appreciated her.
She blinked twice and tried to ignore the fragile and very temporary hope that rushed through her. Like a flash in the pan.
Joey stood before her, his expression half wary, half hopeful. He didn’t say anything, though she could see how much he wanted to.
“What is it?” she asked gently, sensing how he expected to have his dream dashed, so he hesitated to voice it.
“It’s just...” He swallowed loudly, but spoke no more words.
“Yes? Go ahead. You can tell me.”
“About Christmas. You know. The twelve days thing.” He swayed slightly, reluctant to continue. She considered him a seven-year old worrywart.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “This is day five. Where do you suppose we’ll find five golden rings?” Unbidden, unwelcome, her gaze went to Wade and locked there. Was he thinking of the symbolism of a golden ring? Giving the promise of home and family and forever love?
She jerked her attention back to Joey so fast her head spun.
His shoulders slumped. “Gold rings don’t sound like any fun.”
“I agree. So why don’t we forget about the rings and do something you’d like?”
He nodded, his eyes full of eager expectation.
“What would you like to do?” she asked him.
He giggled a little. “Have five picnics.”
She laughed. “That’s funny.”
He grinned back, then sobered. “But you can’t have picnics in the winter.”
“I don’t believe that. Do you?”
He shook his head.
“Do any of you?”
Linette and Louise murmured no, but it was Wade she looked to. He had moved to the door as if he meant to leave, but he had not donned his coat and now he grinned at her. “If you’re going on a winter picnic I’m coming.”
Joey ran to his uncle and grabbed his hand. “When are we going?”