by Janice Hanna
“That she is,” Gene said. “No question about that.”
“She’s a fireball. And even though I’ve tried to throw water on her, she still keeps blazing.”
“I’ve thrown a few buckets of water that way myself,” Gene said. “But she’s hotter than an egg frying on the sidewalk in August.”
“Why do you suppose she’s so bent on closing down the orphanage?”
“Not sure,” Gene said. “I’ve often wondered.”
“I knew her as a girl,” Old Man Tucker said. “She was a right nice little thing till her ma and pa adopted that baby sister of hers. I always figured she was jealous of the attention little Prudence got. Probably didn’t help that Prudence was really pretty. Molly was always a bit on the plain side, ya know.”
Gene didn’t know, but it all made sense. It would appear that Molly carried a grudge, one going all the way back to her childhood. That explained a lot.
Old Man Tucker kept on talking about what a looker Prudence had turned out to be, but Gene’s thoughts shifted to the article in the paper. He skimmed the words once again and a renewed sense of hope kicked in. With everyone working together, maybe they really could turn things around for the town of Daisy. One could hope, anyway.
He said his good-byes and headed back to the jail, anxious to get to work. He’d no sooner stepped inside than his mother appeared, all smiles.
“How’s your day going, son?”
“Fine. Yours?”
“Wonderful. Guess you’ve heard what’s stirring with Jonathan Brewer.”
“Yes.”
“He’s a peach, isn’t he?”
“Well, I don’t know that I would call him that.”
“I do believe he’s got his eye on Rena. Should be interesting to watch. Oh, and speaking of Miss Jewel, she’s invited us to Thanksgiving dinner. We’re to bring the cranberry dressing and a couple of pies. I told her that you like to bake.”
“I like to bake?”
“Well, now, don’t fret.” His mother gave him a wink. “I’ll teach you. You’ve always liked my pecan pie. It’s about time you learned how to make one yourself.”
“Wait.” He shook his head and tried to make sense of things. “In the last two minutes you’ve informed me that Jonathan has his eye on Miss Jewel, we’re having Thanksgiving dinner at the children’s home, and I’m baking a pie. And somehow the common denominator in all these stories is Rena Jewel. Is that right?”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head, son. She is, indeed, the common denominator.” His mother winked. “Couldn’t have put it any better myself.” She paused. “So, what do you say?”
“To the dinner or the pie?”
“Both.”
“Yes to the dinner, no to the pie.” He released a breath and thought it through. “Or, rather, a maybe to the pie. But I still don’t know why I’m making it and not you. I have my hands full with the boys.”
“They can help you.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, there’s a lovely idea! The boys can help you. That way you can all tell Rena that you made it together. She will see how much your boys look up to you.”
“Why should I care how she perceives my relationship with the boys?”
His mother gave him a sheepish look then cast her gaze to the floor. “Oh, I…well, I was just thinking it would be inspirational to her, now that she’s caring for so many youngsters herself.”
“Mm-hmm.” He shook his head then took his mother by the shoulders, gazing directly into her eyes. “Mother, no matchmaking.”
“Matchmaking?” She feigned innocence. “You offend me at the deepest level. I would never stoop to—”
“And another thing.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve never been any good at baking. Remember that cake you helped me with when I was a kid? I almost burned the kitchen down.”
“Well, yes. But that was years ago. Surely you have improved. Most things do get better with time, you know.” She gave him a wink. “Look at me. I’m turning sixty-seven this spring and I feel like I’m in my prime.”
He reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You don’t look a day over forty.”
“Forty?” She smirked. “You meant thirty, didn’t you?”
He laughed. “Yes, Mama. Thirty. And yes to the pie. I’ll bake whatever you like, but I can’t do it by myself.”
“Son, there are a great many things menfolk could learn from women. But I have a feeling you’re a ready learner. Stick close and you’ll learn a thing or two from this wise old sage.”
He gave her a curious look, wondering what she had up her sleeve. They weren’t talking about pies anymore, were they? No, judging from the crooked grin on his mother’s face, she’d shifted the conversation entirely. Where she was headed with it, he could not say.
Chapter Twelve
TIPS FOR DEALING WITH UNRULY YOUNG’UNS—Miss Rena said I should write this here note to the fella at the paper, so here goes. My name is Tree but folks ’round here call me by all sorts of other names, some I can’t say out loud fer fear Miss Rena’ll stick a bar of soap in my mouth to teach me a lesson. I don’t really mind so much. Me ’n the boys like to pull a few pranks, sure. That’s what we’re known for. I don’t reckon I’ve got any tips for raisin’ young’uns, ’cept if yer a parent, it’s better to stick around instead of droppin’ yer kids off at an orphanage and tellin’ ’em you’ll be back to fetch ’em shortly…’specially if you never plan to come back at all.
—Tree
Over the next three weeks, Rena did everything in her power to keep the peace, both inside the walls of the children’s home and out. She skillfully avoided both the mayor and Molly Harris, though the children’s antics nearly drew their interest on more than one occasion. A handful of folks in town rallied around the children. Many turned in child-rearing tips to Jonathan, who posted them, along with several positive articles about famous grown-ups who’d once been intolerable children. He seemed to have won over Joe, the barber, who was now more approachable.
And speaking of winning folks over, she’d spent plenty of time with the sheriff. In spite of the mayor’s warnings, she found him to be a fun-loving man and a good father. Sure, he still had a lot to learn, but so did she. Perhaps—she often smiled as she thought about it—they could learn together.
Her days were filled with caring for children, but during the late evening hours, after the children were tucked away in their beds, she pulled out her notebook and began to add scenes to her novel. She added a cowboy, of course. One with broad shoulders and a happy laugh. She named him Gerald…and made him a Texas Ranger. That way no one would ever suspect the real object of her affections.
Hmm. She would have to keep an eye on that. No point in letting herself think for a moment that her blossoming friendship with Gene Wyatt—or Jonathan Brewer, for that matter—might turn into something more. She’d long since stopped imagining such a thing possible.
Still, Gene’s dimples held her spellbound at times. How could she possibly control the fluttering in her heart when he looked at her that way? Another thing captivated her as well: his boyish grin. And so did his eyes—which she’d now determined to be cornflower blue, not midnight blue—along with his broad shoulders. All these things served as ongoing distractions and the perfect fodder for her novel.
Besides, no one would ever read her story, anyway. She kept it hidden away under her pillow. The words were meant for her eyes only.
As Thanksgiving approached, her spirits lifted. She had one goal in mind—to make this the best holiday the children in her care had ever experienced. With that in mind, she put them to work carving pumpkins and creating a holiday display out of crisp red, gold, and brown fall leaves. They also baked gingerbread cookies together. The cookies hadn’t exactly turned out as she’d planned and the kitchen suffered terribly in the process of trying, but what a great time they’d all had. Well, until the boys got into a fistfight and started throwing dough at one another. Everything unrav
eled at that point. Still, she had bright hopes for the big day.
On the morning of Thanksgiving, Rena awoke with renewed zeal. Carolina would arrive soon to help with the meal. Jenny Jamison, who had offered to cook a few of the side dishes, would come at nine o’clock. And Jonathan Brewer, who claimed he needed more information for future articles, had invited himself to lunch, as well. Not that Jenny seemed to mind this news. Oh no. Her face lit with joy the moment Rena told her.
The only person who didn’t seem terribly excited about the prospect was Gene. He’d fallen silent at the news that Jonathan would be joining them for the holiday meal. Did he have something against the man, perhaps? Rena couldn’t be sure, but she had her suspicions. On more than one occasion she’d noticed Gene looking at Jenny with a gleam in his eyes. Who could blame him? Jenny was an enviable beauty, after all. Her perfect blond hair always seemed to stay in place. Her cute-as-a-button nose wrinkled every time one of the men told a joke, and her sparkling green eyes seemed to hold Gene captive.
Still, it wasn’t exactly the story Rena would’ve written. Not that any of her stories had ever actually come true, but one could hope that a handsome fellow would look her way every now and again instead of being sidetracked by a woman of real beauty.
As she came fully awake that morning, Rena offered up a prayer of thanks for all that the Lord had done in her life over the past few weeks. Sure, there were still problems. And she missed her family terribly. But overall, things were going well. She rose from the bed, determined to make this the best Thanksgiving ever.
After rushing to get the turkey into the oven, she headed back upstairs, opened the wardrobe door, and stared at the dresses inside. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have chosen a practical one. Still, the idea of celebrating Thanksgiving Day in a boring dress held no appeal. She reached for a soft white blouse, one Virginia had purchased for her. Fingering the imported lace on the collar, Rena smiled. Wearing something so delicate and soft didn’t make a lot of sense. Not with all the work she had to do. Still, the idea of cooking all morning in a drab brown dress seemed less appealing.
She reached for the blouse and took a few steps toward the large oval mirror. Holding the blouse in place, she smiled. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. And she would wear that pretty blue skirt to go with it, the one Virginia had brought back from New York.
Suddenly an idea took hold, one Rena could not ignore. She sprinted toward her wardrobe and pulled open the door. Her eyes shifted from dress to dress, skirt to skirt. So many things. So many, many things.
She grabbed hold of a dress and pressed it close, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? Why, with all the clothes she’d brought, many items would never get worn. She could take the excess dresses and skirts—ones with solid, practical fabrics—and use them to create new clothes for the girls for Christmas. Yes, what a marvelous idea. And why not shop for bits of lace and trim from the general store? Why, the girls would probably jump for joy if she added a bit of finery to the dresses.
Still in the holiday spirit, she tiptoed into the girls’ bedroom to wake them up after she dressed. She had to laugh when she found them already up and dressed. Rena gazed at them in their tattered pinafores and tried to imagine what they would look like on Christmas morning, all decked out in the dresses she would present to them.
A delicious thought flitted through her mind as she pictured Lilly, Callie, and Josephine all dressed up for Christmas in their Sunday finest. Wouldn’t Calista be surprised? And jealous, likely. Yes, the girls could give her a run for her money in the clothing department.
Just as quickly, Rena asked for forgiveness for thinking such a thing. If she made new dresses for the girls, it would only be to make them feel better about themselves and let them know that someone cared enough to craft something of beauty for them.
And as for Calista, well…in her heart of hearts, Rena longed for all the little girls in town to become playmates to her girls.
Her girls.
Rena smiled, realizing that they were finally becoming her children. It would take some doing to feel the same affection for some of the boys, but perhaps with time they could be one big family.
Lilly’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Oh, Miss Rena!” She wrapped her arms around Rena’s waist. “You are the most beautiful person ever!”
It took a moment for Rena to figure out what had brought about such excitement. Then she remembered her blue skirt and frilly blouse.
“You look like a lady from a picture book,” Callie added, her eyes wide.
“Ooh, my mama had a blue skirt like this.” Josephine’s eyes filled with tears. She ran her fingers over the fabric of Rena’s skirt and sighed.
Rena knelt down and wrapped the little girl in her arms, her heart so full she could hardly stand it. This one had certainly won her affections, no doubt about it. “I’ll bet your mama made Thanksgiving really special,” Rena whispered, running her hand across Josephine’s blond hair.
“She did.” Josephine’s little smile counteracted her tears. The youngster fingered the lace on Rena’s collar. “And she had a blouse like this too. She always said that one day I would grow up and wear pretty things.” After a pause, she whispered, “I guess that’s not gonna happen now.”
Suddenly feeling very motherly, Rena turned the girl around to face the mirror on the wall. “Josephine, you are beautiful on the inside and on the outside. You don’t need adornment to prove it. But your mama was right—one day you will grow up, and I’m sure you’ll have lovely things. In the meantime, we’ll give thanks for the things we do have.”
“I’m thankful for you, Miss Rena!” Josephine flung herself into Rena’s arms and planted little kisses on her cheeks.
Before long, they were all giggles. Rena felt sure they’d awakened the boys with their laughter, but it was not so. She found them sleeping soundly. They sprang to life the moment she reminded them of the turkey and dressing they would eat later in the day.
By the time she arrived downstairs, Carolina was knocking at the front door. She’d brought William and Jacob with her, but Gene was nowhere to be seen. The boys were dressed in their Sunday clothes but didn’t seem happy about it. With freckles scrubbed clean and sandy-colored hair slicked back, they looked like young gentlemen. Except for the scowls, of course.
“Gene will be along shortly,” Carolina said, brushing through the door, her arms loaded with food. “He had to tend to an inmate at the jail.” She gestured to the pecan pie in William’s hands. It looked a bit lumpy and sort of strange. “Gene made the pie himself. Wish he could’ve delivered it.”
Rena wasn’t sure which surprised her more—the fact that he’d baked a pie or the idea that he was currently at the jailhouse guarding an inmate.
“He’s got a prisoner?” she asked.
“Yes.” Carolina gestured for William and Jacob to go to the kitchen then lowered her voice. “Don’t want to scare the children. From what I hear, a couple of men got liquored up and robbed the bank over in Tushka. Gene and Charlie have been on the lookout for them ever since they got word that the bank robbers were in this area.”
“And he caught both of them?”
“No, just one. Still has his eyes open for the other one.”
“How frightening.” Rena shivered, realizing that a bank robber could be roaming the streets, even now.
“Anyway, I went by the jail this morning to drop off food. Thought a hearty breakfast was in order. Gene and Charlie were up all night.” She paused a moment then snapped her fingers. “Oh, speaking of the jail, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“Just an idea I had.” Carolina smiled.
“You had an idea about the jail and it somehow involves me?” This made Rena very curious. Still, Carolina didn’t seem ready to talk about it just yet. She disappeared into the kitchen humming a happy tune, and before long the clanging of pots and pa
ns took over.
Rena busied the children, who agreed to set the table. She gave them instructions, which she hoped they would follow. They were to use the tablecloths from Carolina, along with the centerpiece they’d made. And to top the whole thing off, they could spread the fall leaves around on the table.
Before long, Jenny arrived. Within minutes, she, Rena, and Carolina were up to their elbows in holiday foods. They talked at length while cooking up a storm. In the other room, Rena could hear the children laughing and playing. She prayed they were doing as they’d been instructed. Before long, the smell of the turkey baking permeated the building. Rena’s lips watered, but she had to be patient. There was so much work left to do, so many dishes yet to prepare.
The noon hour arrived all too quickly. Rena could hardly believe it. Still, with Jenny and Carolina’s help, the meal really was coming together.
She paused from her labors to wipe the perspiration from her brow then looked at the other ladies. “Isn’t Gene coming?” she asked. “I’d hoped he would carve the turkey for us.” Back home in Gulfport, Reuben had always done the honor. It just seemed a fitting job for a man.
Carolina looked up from the pumpkin pie she’d just fetched from the oven. “What time is it?”
“Twelve-ten,” Jenny said, as she finished whipping up the mashed potatoes.
“Something must’ve gone wrong at the jail,” Carolina said. “I’ll telephone him and tell him he’s about to miss out on the best meal ever if he doesn’t hightail it over here.”
Rena wasn’t sure why, but the idea of carrying on without him just seemed…wrong. She didn’t have long to think about it, however. A knock at the door signaled their first guest—Jonathan Brewer. She ushered him inside, her eyes widening with delight when she noticed his fashionable gray suit and tie.
Jenny seemed tongue-tied in his presence, but not Carolina. She swept in, offered to take his hat, and then began to cluck her tongue.