Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma

by Janice Hanna

  “Sweet girl.” Carolina wrapped her in a motherly embrace. “I love you. And I love what you’re doing for the children. They need you, and on some level I think you need them too.”

  Rena felt the sting of tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

  At that moment the front door swung open and the children poured inside. Henry was the last to enter. Carolina took one look at him, gave Rena a nod, and made an announcement. “Tell you what, Rena. I could use some help in town. What say I take most of these children off your hands for an hour or so?”

  “W–what? Are you sure?”

  “Sure.” Carolina gestured to Henry. “I figured you and Henry are due for a little chat.” She glanced at the boys. “Isn’t that right, Henry?”

  “Um, I, well…” He shrugged. “Ain’t sure what we got to talk about, but I guess so.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Carolina ushered the other boys and girls outside, and their happy voices grew faint as they moved down the lane.

  Rena drew a deep breath and turned to face Henry. “She’s right, you know. We do need to talk.”

  “ ’Bout what?” He dropped his books on the end table and plopped down onto the sofa.

  “About what happened the other day at the general store.”

  His gaze shifted to the ground. Then out the window. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ ’bout.”

  “You know very well what I’m talking about. After I caught you with the chewing tobacco, I bought another pouch to give to Joe. But then…” She paused and took a seat next to him. “Well, we never made it to the barbershop, did we? I got distracted.”

  “Ain’t my fault that stupid letter made you forget.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Well, yes, I was reading a letter, but that’s not my point. The point is, we left the store in a hurry and I forgot to stop by the barbershop. Then, when I checked my packages later, the tobacco was missing.”

  The tops of Henry’s ears turned red and his eyes widened. His mouth opened, as if he planned to say something, but then closed again. He returned his gaze to the window.

  “Henry, what happened to that pouch of tobacco I bought?” she asked, a sense of dread coming over her. “It’s important that I know the answer.”

  He hung his head.

  “Tell the truth. I take part of the blame, since I forgot. Does that make you feel any better?”

  Henry pursed his lips but eventually nodded. “If’n I tell ya, you gonna punish me?”

  “I haven’t decided that part yet,” she said. “I just know that I won’t be able to sleep, knowing I’ve corrupted you further.”

  “Shoot…” He chuckled. “You ain’t corrupted me, Miz Rena. No way, no how. I was already plenty corrupted before you got here. So, rest yer mind about that.”

  “Where is the tobacco, Henry?”

  “I gave it to Joe.”

  “You…you what?” She reached to take his chin in her hand and turned his face up to hers. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll be able to tell by looking into your eyes. It’s a special gift I have, knowing when folks are lying.”

  He gazed directly into her eyes. “Then tell me what you see. ‘Cause I put the pouch of tobacco on Joe’s desk, the very spot where I stole the other one.”

  “Did you apologize?”

  “Nope.” Henry shook his head. “He didn’t realize I stole the first one, so I figgered it was kinda pointless to sorry up fer something he didn’t know I’d done.”

  “But the Lord knows. And it’s always good to let Him know you’re sorry for the wrong things you’ve done.”

  Henry did not look convinced. “Don’t know ’bout that.”

  She shook her head. “It’s true. Besides, I’ve probably stirred up more trouble by sending Carolina to town with money for Joe. And Molly Harris is all worked up over this as well. She and the mayor will use it against me. They want to see me gone.”

  “Well, shoot.” Henry gave her a pensive look. “That’s the reason I gave the tobacco back, Miz Rena. You don’t need more trouble.” A downcast look came over his face. “Never meant to drag you into this. I just wanted to try the tobacco to see if I liked it.”

  “And did you?”

  He shook his head. “ ’Tween you and me, it made me sick.”

  “I figured.” She rested her hand on his arm, suddenly overcome with emotion for the boy. “Henry, we’ve never really had a good talk, you and me. I regret that. I want to know you better. Want to know what makes you tick.”

  “What makes me tick?” He laughed.

  She looked him in the eye. “What I’m really wondering is, why do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “You know.” She locked him in her gaze. “Why do you act up? Get in so much trouble?”

  As he stared at the ground, an uncomfortable silence grew between them. After several awkward seconds, he tugged at his shirt collar. “Gettin’ hot in here,” he managed.

  “Yes, but you didn’t answer my question. Why do you act up? What’s the point of it all?”

  “Just trying to get attention, I guess,” he muttered.

  “Why?”

  His next words came out sounding strained. “My ma passed when I was only four. And my pa…” He rolled his eyes. “Well, he had big dreams. Maybe too big. He was always fond of the bottle, but he said he was gonna build a big tavern in town.”

  “A tavern? I don’t recall seeing one,” she said.

  “Nah. He never sobered up long enough to build it. But he did build a still out in the woods, east of town. That’s how he ended up in jail. Sheriff found the still and arrested him.”

  Rena thought carefully before responding. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Henry. I didn’t know. Had your father struggled with alcohol for long?”

  “Fer as long as I can remember, he’s had a bottle in his hand.” Henry smiled. “He’s been out of jail for years now, but he has a wanderin’ eye. Moves from state to state.” A lengthy pause followed and Henry’s smile faded. “You know, Pa’s a stubborn, mule-headed old coot when he’s sober, but he’s lots of fun when he’s liquored up. I always did like it when he was drinkin’ cause I knew he would be in a good mood.”

  “Oh my.” She hardly knew what to say in response. Perhaps it would be better to let him keep talking.

  “ ’Course, Pa never stuck around for long. When he took off I stayed with my grandpappy for a while, but he said there weren’t enough money in the world to keep me underfoot fer long. Guess he thinks I’m a handful.” Henry paused. “He said I’m too much like my pa, that the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Just because your father has faced challenges doesn’t mean you have to go through the same thing,” Rena explained. “You can ask the Lord to give you a different sort of life.”

  “Ask the Lord?” Henry raked his fingers through his hair with a perplexed look on his face. “Miss Rena, sometimes you say the derndest things. It’s like you think I could just sit down and talk to God like He was my pa or sumpthin.”

  “Actually, it’s easier than that to talk to the Lord,” she said. “With your pa, you’d have to work up the courage. But with the Lord, all you need is a still, quiet moment. No one needs to tell you what to say or what not to say. You can just be yourself.”

  “Be myself?” He snorted.

  “Yes.” She reached to take his hand. “Haven’t you ever had anyone that you could just be yourself around?”

  “Well, a couple of the boys. Oliver and Mochni, mostly. I can be myself around them.” He paused and gave her a scrutinizing look. “What about you?”

  “W–what?”

  “Anyone you can just be yourself around?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t help the smile that followed. “My niece, Sadie. She’s coming next week to spend the Christmas holidays with us, so you’ll get to meet her and see for yourself.”

  “Is she perty?” Henry offered a mischievous grin.

  Rena chuckl
ed. “Yes, very. But get your mind off that subject right away. She’s much older than you.”

  “I’ll be fifteen next month.”

  “Indeed.” Rena gave him an admiring look. “And I would guess you’re long overdue for a birthday party. Ever had one?”

  “Me? A birthday party?” The very idea appeared to render him speechless. “You…you would do that for me?”

  “Well, of course. Special days are worth celebrating, and so are special people. And just for the record, Henry, the Bible says that God is a father to the fatherless. So the next time you’re disappointed in your real father, look to the Lord. He’ll never leave you or forsake you, and that’s a promise.”

  A look of shame washed over him. “Miz Rena, I’ll tell ‘em what I did. I’ll tell the sheriff, and Joe too.”

  “That would be great, Henry. Confession is good for the soul.”

  He nodded and rose. After grabbing his books, he turned to face her. “Might as well confess something else too, while it’s on my mind.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I, um…well, I’m the one who put that poo-poo cushion on yer chair during Thanksgiving.” A pause followed, and then came a quiet, “Forgive me?”

  She rose and gave him a hug. “There’s nothing to forgive. Now get on upstairs and do your homework. You’re a smart boy, Henry. You’re going to go far in this world.”

  He squared his shoulders, gave her a genuine smile, and bolted up the stairs.

  “What’d the kids do to land themselves in jail?”

  Gene looked up as he heard Charlie’s voice. His deputy gestured to the jail cell, where several of the boys and girls from the children’s home had locked themselves inside.

  He laughed. “Well, it’s like this…my mother came to town to do some shopping and brought the children with her. Not sure why. She stopped by here on her way to the store, and a bunch of the kids locked themselves in the cell.” He gestured toward them. “They’re having so much fun in there that she decided to leave them.”

  “Who’s got the key?” Charlie asked.

  Gene lifted the key ring, gave it a jangle, and dropped it onto his desk.

  Charlie laughed. “Gonna keep ’em in there forever?”

  “Nah. I suppose it’s time to free the prisoners. Besides, my mother’s due back in a few minutes and she’ll probably panic if she finds them still locked up.”

  He walked over to the jail cell just in time to hear Josephine ask the others a question: “Why do you suppose Miss Rena never got married?”

  “Yeah, is she an old maid?” Oliver asked.

  Gene rattled his keys to warn the children of his approach. They looked his way.

  “Sheriff Wyatt,” Josephine said, “can you help us solve a riddle?”

  He peered through the bars at them. “If it’s a riddle involving a certain children’s home director, the answer is no.”

  “So you don’t know why she’s an old maid, either?” Wesley asked, brushing a dirty blond hair back with the sweep of a hand. “Figures. Men can never figure out the female sex.”

  Josephine’s eyes widened. “He said sex.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with saying a person is of a certain sex,” Gene explained as he stuck the key in the lock. “And maybe you’re right. I’ve never claimed to know anything about women.” A rush of emotions ran through him at this statement. Brenda, he had known. Brenda, he had figured out. Well, mostly, anyway. She had perplexed him on occasion, but he’d always managed to understand her in the end.

  “I think Miss Rena had her heart broken,” Callie said, a knowing look on her face. “She just looks like a woman who’s pining away for a man in her secret heart of hearts.”

  Gene pushed the cell door open. “If she’s pinin’, she’s mighty quiet about it.”

  “I think she should marry Mr. Jonathan,” Callie said. “Wouldn’t that be romantic? He’s so handsome, like a storybook character.”

  “Storybook?” Gene snorted as he took a step inside the jail cell. “Miss Jewel’s not the sort to read fanciful stories, so you can put that notion right out of your head.”

  “Yer wrong, Sheriff,” Oliver said. “She loves stories.”

  Several of the boys shot him a warning look, and Gene knew at once they were up to something.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well…nuthin’.” Oliver hung his head.

  “The boys were snoopin’ in Miss Rena’s room,” Lilly said. “They found her storybook.”

  “Storybook?” Gene stopped himself before asking more. His first response should have been, “Snooping?”

  “She’s a writer!” Callie whispered. “She writes the most romantical stories you ever did read. We stayed up all night long reading them. Heroes on horseback. Men with cowboy hats. Damsels in distress. You name it, she writes it.”

  Gene did his best to shush them immediately. Talk about a misunderstanding! Boy-howdy, would the townspeople get worked up if they heard this nonsense. It would likely be a juicier piece of gossip than that chewing-tobacco debacle.

  “You’ve got to be mistaken,” he assured them. “Likely she’s carrying someone else’s writing tablet or reading a story written by a friend. The Rena Jewel I know would never contrive make-believe stories. She’s far too sensible for that.”

  Oliver snorted and repeated a few words: “She’s far too sensible for that!”

  “That’s what you think.” Josephine nodded, and the funniest little smile lit her face. “Just wait.”

  “Yep, that’s right,” Mikey added. “One of her stories is about a Texas Ranger named Gerald. What do you think about that?”

  Gene bristled. “You must be joking.”

  “We’re not,” all of the children spoke in unison.

  “What do you think of that, Sheriff?” Josephine asked.

  “I think you’ve been writing those stories and putting them in her book to make it look like she’s a writer when she’s not.” He rose, completely disgusted with them for setting her up like this. “And frankly, I’ve had it with all of you. First you let the townspeople think she chews tobacco, and now this? What’s next?”

  He saw a couple of the boys glance at each other and realized there might be more yet to be revealed. Still, this was all he could handle for one day.

  “You will one day have to repent for the awful things you’ve done to your directors. You know that, don’t you? And I’ll be honest and say I won’t have a moment’s pity on you when folks react to the news. You’ll deserve every bit of tongue-lashing.”

  “But, Sheriff, honest and true, she’s a writer,” Josephine said. “We couldn’t make up something this big.”

  “Sure, you couldn’t. And my name isn’t Gene Wyatt, and I don’t live in a town called Daisy, Oklahoma.”

  In that moment, he almost wished he didn’t live in Daisy, Oklahoma, for life here was growing more complicated by the day.

  Chapter Eighteen

  TIPS FOR DEALING WITH UNRULY YOUNG’UNS—I’m not a parent myself, but I’ve spent enough time around children to know what they respond to. Children, even in the midst of tantrums, long to be held and loved. They want someone older, wiser, and calmer to lovingly step in and offer assurance that things will be all right. Never is this more important than when a child is out of control. Even the most rebellious youngster will respond to a loving embrace. His tantrum will vanish as a heartfelt “I love you” is spoken. This I know from personal experience, having so recently been a child myself.

  —Sadie Jewel, College Student and Visitor to Daisy

  On the second Saturday in December Rena fussed with the house, getting the new furniture pieces in place. The donations weren’t quite what she would have chosen, but she made the best of things.

  Overnight, a light snow had fallen, taking her by surprise. Living on the Gulf Coast for so long had scarcely prepared her for the winter wonderland. Thank goodness most of the snow had melted. Otherwise, traveling to
town to fetch Sadie would have been difficult. Not that it really mattered just yet. She still had plenty of work to do inside the house before heading to the train depot.

  “I think that sofa would look best over here, under the window.” She pointed, and Henry and the other boys moved it to the new location.

  “What about this new end table, Miss Rena?” Callie pointed to a beautiful mahogany piece. “What should we do with this?”

  Rena glanced around the parlor. “I think it will fit nicely next to the sofa.”

  She spent the better part of the next hour shifting and re-shifting pieces and even hung two new pictures on the wall, which Virginia had sent as a special gift. When all was said and done, Rena stepped back and admired their work.

  “It’s bee-you-tee-ful!” Josephine let out a squeal and flopped onto the sofa. The other children piled in around her, and before long they were all laughing and talking about the transformations inside the house. Rena couldn’t help but notice the transformations in the children as well, though she never mentioned it.

  The hall clocked pealed eleven times. Rena glanced into the hallway mirror and realized she must tidy up before heading to the station. She could never let folks in town see her in such a disheveled state. They already had their doubts about her sanity. If she showed up looking like something the cat dragged in, they would surely make more of it than necessary. She headed upstairs to fuss with her hair and change into a proper winter dress.

  At noon, Carolina arrived with Jacob and William at her side. The boys were quarreling, naturally. Nothing new there. Still, they erased their battle lines as soon as they saw the new furniture. Minutes later, they took their seats amid all the other boys and girls in the newly decked-out parlor.