But after half an hour of holding Spook back, I was tired. Carter hadn't worked the fields yet, so I turned Spook around, clucked and gave him his head. Spook bunched up his muscles, gave two small hops and took off. I leaned forward, excitement threaded with fear, pounded through me. My hat blew off and my hair flapped behind me. Just like I figured it would.
But I wasn't getting judged on artistic impression. And to my surprise, in spite of my fear, I was having fun. My fear melted away as exhilaration took over. Spook wouldn't let me fall, wouldn't go out of control. He wanted to run and I decided to let him.
Spook's muscles were rippling under me, his head stretched out and I focused on keeping my balance and not letting my feet slip out of the stirrups. On and on we ran, dirt flying up in great clods behind us.
Then we were bearing down on the barnyard. I pulled him up. He shook his head, but obeyed and by the time we got close to James's house, which was beside the corral, I had Spook down to a quick trot. His best gait. I sucked in a deep breath, my face was flushed and I was feeling as if I had blown all the worries out of my brain.
The windows of James's house were open. And as I walked Spook past the house, I heard it again. Sherry's keening wail.
Did that kid never settle?
In spite of the dust in my hair and the grit on my face, I could spare a moment of pity for James as I brought Spook into the corrals. James wasn't getting much work done on setting up that knitting shop, and I understood Robin hadn't called him yet.
By the time I had Spook's tack put away and had fed him some oats, I noticed that Carter, Chip and Neil were back. I needed to get going.
As I walked back toward the house, I stretched my arms over my head. Come morning, I was going to discover muscles I hadn't been aware of for a while.
Then, as I passed James's house, I caught the scent of supper cooking. I lifted my face, sniffed again, turning my head to catch the scent like a hound on a trail. Though I knew God could move mountains, I figured that getting the boys to cook was a larger task. So I could only conclude that the wonderful smells I was catching stomach-groaning whiffs of were coming from James's house.
At least he wasn't coming over to our house for supper.
I imagined my brothers sitting in the living room, waiting patiently, or impatiently, for their sister to serve them. I decided it wouldn't hurt them to wait a little longer. Besides, James probably needed help with that baby and the neighbourly thing to do was find out.
He was juggling Sherry and a phone, which he had tucked against his shoulder and was talking loudly into, over the baby’s wails. He held a bottle in his free hand and now and then he jabbed it in the general direction of Sherry's mouth. She fought, bucked and pushed it away.
"Can I help?" I called out over the noise of Sherry's crying.
James whirled around and the look of relief on his face as I approached him with my arms out was the best sight I'd seen all day.
"I'll go wash my hands," I said and quickly cleaned up. Though my better judgment warned me against it, I allowed myself a glance at my reflection. Great. I cleaned my face as best as I could, but the straw-like tangle that was my hair, would have to wait until I showered. For now, I whisked my fingers through it and shrugged. From the sounds of Sherry's cries, James would not turn down my help because I looked like a flushed scarecrow.
There was an awkward moment as I eased Sherry out of his arms. We bumped against each other, pulled away and finally I had the little babe cuddled against me, a bottle in her mouth while she sucked greedily at it.
James gave me a wink, then turned back to his phone conversation.
"You told me the saddle was good."
I didn't mean to listen in, but the house was small and sound carried. I was comfy curled up on James's leather couch with little Sherry. To keep my mind off James's conversation, I talked to her.
"You're being a bad girl for your Uncle James, you know," I mumbled, stroking her chubby hand with my pinky. Her fingers latched on while her plump lips worked the nipple, bubbles meowing their way up through the milk in the bottle. Large, round blue eyes stared up at me as if trying to decipher what I was doing in Uncle James's house.
"No. It's completely defective," James barked. "I'm not climbing on a horse on something like that. I need a new saddle or my money back."
I jumped, Sherry flinched, and I turned my attention back to her, soothing her with nonsense words. I would have sung, but I didn't want to create a psychosis in the poor child.
Besides, I couldn't seem to keep from not listening in. Why was James buying a saddle when he didn't have a horse?
James barked out a few more comments then ended the call and stormed back into the living room, dropping the handset on the counter. "It's times like these that I understand the Old Testament prophets much better," James muttered.
"Pardon me?"
"You know, all those imprecations about fire and brimstone and pestilence. Don't you wish you could do some smiting sometimes?"
I thought about Casey and tried to imagine him with boils. "I'm more of a virtual reality smiter," I said. "In real life I would end up feeling sorry for the very people I was cursing."
He walked over and crouched beside me, his long fingers slipping through Sherry's curls. "That's because you've got such a soft heart."
I looked down at him, remembering the kiss we shared the last time I held his little niece. That kiss had been a mistake, I knew that. But for a moment, I wanted to repeat it. Try it one more time to see if that spark I had felt was real, or simply the imaginings of a lonely woman.
He's a guy. He is staying in Holmes Crossing and he's settling here. He made a bet with your brothers and he rides in the rodeo.
And that last reminder truly sealed the deal.
"Did you have a nice ride?" he asked.
My face flushed as I realized he must have seen my madcap race back home. "Yeah. I needed to get rid of some frustration."
He tilted his head to one side, studying me. "Pushing limits can accomplish that."
I held his gaze, sensing a faint challenge in them. Did he know how I felt about his side job? His saddle bronc riding?
"That's why you like to ride broncs?"
He didn't look away, but from the way his mouth tightened I guessed I wouldn't appreciate his answer.
"I have several reasons, but if I really want to live on the edge, I go grocery shopping without a list."
"You're a madman."
James chuckled and then a sharp rap on the door brought him to his feet.
"Is Danielle here?" Neil stuck his head in the door, caught sight of me and stepped inside. "Great. There you are. We were wondering when supper will be ready. Chip has to head out to Freeman to charm his little honey."
I glanced down at Sherry. She was almost finished her bottle. I'll be there once this little munchkin is done."
"Oh, don't worry about that, sis. James can feed her."
He sounded so reasonable. I almost thought he was giving me a chance to get away, when in fact he was saying he needed me. Now. I glanced up at James, who shook his head, as if telling me to be firm.
But now I was cornered. If I left now, I would feel manipulated by my brothers. If I stayed, by James.
"Can I ask a favour of you?" James caught my indecision. "I need to make a bunch of phone calls. If you take Sherry to your place, I'll bring over the supper I've got cooking in the oven and share it with you and your family."
Neil sniffed then nodded. "Smells like lasagna. You got enough?"
"Plenty. Is that okay with you?" James asked, turning to me.
"Sounds like a plan to me," I said, trying not to be embarrassed by Neil's forthrightness, and yet thankful for James's diplomacy.
I pulled the bottle out of Sherry's mouth, surprised at how strong her sucking reflex was. She batted at the bottle then wailed when she realized nothing more was coming.
James had the phone in his hand, ready to make another cal
l. There was no way he could carry on a conversation with this blessed infant carrying on, so I left.
The phone was jangling when I got into the house. Ignoring it wasn't in my genetics so I let Sherry's diaper bag slip off one arm as I juggled her to other. I caught the phone on the fourth ring.
"Hey, hon. I'm at loose ends next week," Rita Woytowich was saying in a relentlessly cheerful voice. "Can I come and clean your house for you?"
Was this woman for real? Asking if she could clean my house? "Of course...I mean, that would be wonderful. Please and thank you and all kinds of other gratitude..." I couldn't spill the words fast enough. "That would be wonderful."
"Does nine o'clock on Tuesday work out for you? Like I said, I have Bible Study on Mondays."
Midnight, early morning, anything would work out for me, I thought as my eyes swept over the room. Clothes in various states of cleanliness lay scattered over the furniture, plates from breakfast and lunch were spread out on the counter. Would simply piling them on top of one another threaten my brothers’ manliness?
"That would be perfect." I glanced at the calendar and my heart fell. "Dad has an appointment with his doctor that day..." I let the sentence hang, wondering what she would do with the information.
“I can bring him for you. That way you don't have to take time off work and deal with that little snake, Casey."
Snake. Casey. I felt an un-Christian shot of relief that I wasn't the only person who knew what Casey was and thought the same of him. "How do you know my boss?"
"I've had dealings with him in the past," Mrs. Woytowich said. "He's pompous and self-righteous. I wish someone would tell him off."
I did, too. But I wasn't taking any chances on being the one. He could be vindictive and nasty when crossed and until I was packing up my desk to leave, I was stuck with putting up with him.
The thought sent a searing shot of torment through my stomach. Please. Lord, I prayed, let me get that job. "Anyhow, you don't worry about your father or your house. I'll come and take care of things."
She asked a few more questions about the house, told me what she needed to have ready when she came. She wanted a list. A list! I couldn't believe the blessing that had been dropped in my lap. Thank You, Lord.
I said goodbye, hung up the phone and grinned down at Sherry, who had settled down. "Did you hear that? Rita Woytowich wants me to make her a list? A list." I repeated the words to her again, making them real. "And your Uncle James is bringing supper, which means I don't have to cook for those hulking brothers of mine who don't know the meaning of the words 'move out.'" I sank into my dad's recliner, ignoring the blue jeans draped over the arm. I pulled up the footrest, appreciating the luxury of a few moments of empty time. The idea that my future was unfolding as it should.
Sherry finally lay quiet in my arms, warm, soft and sweet-smelling. I stroked her petal soft cheek, relishing this gentle moment. She gurgled, tiny spit bubbles forming at the corners of her cupid-bow lips as she waved her arms and kicked her feet with jerky little baby movements.
"Now that you're not crying, you are adorable," I cooed, stroking her cheek with my finger. She smiled, her pearly teeth glinting at me. "And I'm busy taking care of you so I can't set the table. My lazy brothers will have to do that."
Sherry cooed, then clapped her hands as if celebrating with me. A vague thought circled the edges of my mind, slowly taking shape. I wonder what it would be like to have a child of my own.
I touched Sherry's cheek again, let my hand linger then caught myself mid-mush. I had plans. I had a future. It was in the city doing a job that didn't require dealing with the roughest elements of society.
But would you enjoy it? Wouldn't you miss the challenge?
Stay focused, I reminded myself. Stay with the plan.
12
I kept my eyes on my plate and struggled to finish the small portion of lasagna I had taken. I took a quick drink of water, which helped get the dry, overcooked piece of pasta down. Another drink diluted the over-salted sauce. Around me my brothers were wolfing down a second helping.
"That was great, James." My dad wiped his mouth, threw his napkin on his plate and sat back, patting his stomach.
"Yeah. You'll make some lucky woman a great husband," Chip agreed, scraping the lasagna off his plate.
I had set my culinary bar too high, I thought as I worked down the last mouthful of leathery lasagna. All these years of sautéing and fussing and seasoning had been wasted on my brothers. I could have saved myself a lot of work if their effusive compliments were anything to go by.
"Good food, eh, Danielle?" Carter nudged me with his elbow.
"Great."
Sherry squawked, and I jumped up. "Oh goodness, I better get her changed."
"Didn't you do that before supper?" James asked.
"Yeah, but I think she needs another one." I gave him an apologetic smile, excused myself and got up. Once in the bathroom I spit out the food I had squirrelled away in one cheek and rinsed out my mouth. Sherry's diaper was dry, as I knew it would be. I needed the excuse to get rid of my supper.
I set Sherry on the floor and as I washed my hands, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes. Wasn't caused by the food, that was for sure. The company?
Try as I might, I couldn't eradicate James's kiss or the moments that led up to it. He could actually be serious. Talk about going to church. Then he actually attended.
He was messing with my plans and my mind.
He's attractive and pleasant and you like him.
He's a lousy cook. Aren't men supposed to be good cooks? They are in all the movies.
At least he tried. When was the last time any of your brothers did more than open a can of readymade soup? Admit it, you like him.
He rides broncs.
Would he quit?
Sherry kicked her feet as if trying to get my attention and her little running shoe fell off. I bent over to pick it up and then someone was knocking on the door.
"Everything okay in here?"
James.
Heat chased up my cheeks, making them even pinker than they were. "I'll be right there," I said, wetting a cloth with cold water and pressing it against my face. For good measure I switched the water to warm and wiped Sherry's shining cheeks. She twisted her head away and started crying. I picked her up, cuddled her close and then opened the door.
James stood in the doorway, his arm resting against it. He smiled as I came out and held out his hands for his niece. "I'll take her."
"I don't mind." And I didn't. Sherry was a cute little bundle when she wasn't howling, and I rarely had the chance to cuddle a happy baby.
The boys and Dad were already in the living room arguing about which sports program to watch. Dad was in remarkably high spirits.
The dishes scattered over the table, not so good. Guess I would have to postpone the baby cuddling for a while.
I was about to hand Sherry to James when I stopped, looked from the kitchen to my brothers to James, who was watching me to see what I would do.
I may be slow, but I can be taught. Eventually. If I didn't train these guys now, they would be at a loss by the time I left.
"Hey, guys, how about some help with the dishes?" Okay, not exactly firm and forceful, but hopefully they got the message.
Neil looked at me. Frowned. "What did you say?" Had I just spoken in some foreign language? I guess I should be glad he noticed me. Chip and Carter were still flipping through the channels, intent on maximizing their sports absorption. Obviously a firmer direction was needed.
I walked to the living room, holding Sherry. "Neil, you can clear the table and take care of the leftovers. Chip and Carter, you guys can wash and dry." I looked at my dad sitting comfortably in his recliner and realized that he had to participate as well. "Dad, you know where everything goes, you can put the dishes away."
Four pairs of eyes stared at me as if I had mutated into a puzzling subspecies of sister and daughter. I fou
nd their lack of jumping-to-it disturbing. "Now," I said, as if talking to a group of school children.
Then, like a dream, four figures lumbered to their feet and moved past me to the kitchen, tatters of sighs drifting back as they passed.
James gave me a thumbs-up sign behind their backs.
"You have to help, too, dude," Chip called out to James.
"Nope. I'm exempt. I made supper."
Chip shrugged. "Fair enough." And that was that.
I stayed a moment, watching the unreal scenario of my brothers and father working in the kitchen. Water sloshed on the floor, knives fell and the banter rose to a dull roar as towels snapped and plates crashed into the dishwasher.
I had to get out of here.
Sherry and I curled up on one corner of the couch and to my surprise and discomfort, James settled in on the other, his long legs spread out in front of him.
"Feels good doesn't it?" He slid me a smile. "Being all bossy and in charge."
"A wonderful sense of power," I admitted. "My brothers are an occasional mystery, but sometimes they surprise me."
"Like I said, they like you. They just need guidance." He turned serious. "They're also lucky to have you."
His unexpected compliment brought a flush to my cheeks.
"Really. Robin has been..." He let the sentence drift off as he shook his head. "All her life I've been there for her, then she disappears for a year and shows up with a baby she casually dumps on me and leaves." He dragged his hand over his face and blew out a sigh. "What am I supposed to do with her?"
I was at a loss, as well, but abandoned and neglected children were part of my job. "If you want I could look at in-home care for Sherry or, failing that, place her in a temporary foster home." I looked down at Sherry, who lay, for now, contentedly in my arms. Her mouth was pursed up, her lips moving up and down as if she were getting the dregs out of a phantom bottle.
"No way."
The strength of his tone made me look up. James eyes snapped to mine, blazing with an intensity that took my breath away. "I'd never let anyone else take care of my niece. She's my responsibility and I care about her."
Any Man of Mine (Holmes Crossing Book 5) Page 15