A Mother at Heart (7 page)

At the car, Jake helped his father inside. Then he got in himself. “You're sure you're okay?” Jake asked one more time.

“I'm just tired.” Fred laid his head back and then
rolled it sideways to face Jake. He smiled and took a slow, deep breath. “And how are you? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Jake frowned, wondering what his father was getting at.

“Doesn't bother you to see her again?”

“Her?”

“Miriam. You used to like her quite a bit, didn't you?”

Jake raised his eyebrows, surprised at how perceptive his father was. “Yes, Dad. I did.”

“And now? She's still single, I gather.”

“She's also come to sell her farm and then go back east.”

Jake glanced at Fred again, trying to gauge his reaction.

“You going to put an offer in on it?”

“I don't know. I really don't know.” Jake knew he wouldn't be able to bluff his father. Fred knew the precise financial situation of the farm.

“It would be a shame to lose it.”

“But I would be doing it with your money. I'm not a risk-taker.”

“The price of cereal crops will go up again,” Fred reassured him. “You'll make your money on the land. Sometimes you have to take risks, Jake…in various parts of your life.”

Jake knew Fred alluded to more than just the farm, but decided to leave it be.

“You might want to consider it. Have something to maintain, to pass on.”

“I don't have a son, Dad,” Jake said with a smile.

“That's okay, Jake. Neither did your mother and
I.” Fred returned Jake's smile. “And look what happened to us. God brought us you.”

Jake felt a surge of tender warmth at his father's comment. “And I'm so glad he did.”

Fred only nodded and then laid his head back, closing his eyes again. Jake could tell he wanted to go home, and he got out of the car to find his mother and Taryn.

Just as he did, he saw them with Miriam, walking over to the graveyard.

Jake watched, realizing what they were up to. Tilly had Miriam's arm tucked in hers and was talking, her head bobbing. Taryn skipped ahead of them, her braids bouncing with each step, her arms held out straight from her sides.

They walked directly to Paula's grave, and Taryn bent over to trace her mother's name. Running back to Miriam, she caught her arm and pulled her along.

From his vantage point, Jake couldn't read Miriam's expression. He wondered what she was thinking. Miriam and Paula had been friends for years, yet Paula had never seemed to have the same devotion to Miriam that Miriam had held for Paula. Of course, thought Jake, Paula always took care of Paula first.

Miriam stopped in front of the stone and clasped her hands in front of her, her head bent.

Jake felt a stab of guilt at the sight. Taryn and Tilly occasionally went to Paula's grave. He never did. When Paula had died, his sorrow had been tempered by a guilty measure of relief. Paula had been difficult to live with. In the last years of their marriage, she had hardly been around. Even after Taryn was born, Paula had managed to find all kinds of
reasons to be gone. It was on one of her many trips away that she was killed.

The little group stood still for a moment, and Jake was surprised to see Miriam reach up to palm her cheeks.

Taryn, never able to stay still too long, started running to other stones. Tilly and Miriam tarried a moment, moved on, then stopped again. Jake guessed they were looking at her father's grave.

Once again Miriam paused. Tilly put an arm around her shoulder, and for a moment Jake felt sorry for Miriam. He had stood beside the grave of a beloved foster father. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one. Miriam had no parents at all, now. Her father was buried here, and her mother out east.

At least he still had parents whom he loved. And somewhere on God's good earth, a biological mother whom his brother Simon was determined to find.

For a moment Jake wondered about his mother. Wondered if she was still alive, if she ever thought about them.

Then he dismissed the thought, feeling as if he were betraying Fred and Tilly. They were enough family for him.

Taryn saw him and came running over. “We saw my mommy's grave,” she called out cheerfully. Tilly looked up and saw him, then said something to Miriam, who nodded and then left.

As Tilly walked across the parking lot, she waved at a few people, called out greetings to others. Then she saw that Jake and Fred were waiting, and hurried her pace.

“Sorry,” she said, puffing as she opened the back
door of the car for Taryn. “Miriam wanted to visit the graveyard.”

“She was sad again,” said Taryn, scrambling into the back seat.

“Seat belt,” warned Jake as she settled in.

“That poor girl. I'm glad she agreed to come over now,” Tilly said, cinching her own belt. “She can seem so strong, but inside she's hurting. She used to be so strong in her faith—I just pray she finds some peace here.”

Jake started the car, his eyes on Miriam, who now walked back to her car, alone. For a moment he, too, prayed for her.

“S
o you went to your aunt and uncle's place, and then what?” Tilly asked Miriam as they cleared the table of dishes. Jake and Taryn were playing a game on one corner of the large oak table. Fred was lying down in his bedroom.

Miriam watched Taryn for a moment, remembering the many times she had sat in the same place Taryn now did, playing a game with Fred or Tilly, and later on, Jake. The sun poured in through the same flowered curtains. On the wall above the table, ticked the same blue clock. The figurines in the window were the same as she remembered, and the sets of salt and pepper shakers still sat on the shelf that hung on one end of the wooden cupboard. It was home to her.

Miriam turned back to Tilly. “We only stayed there a couple of weeks. Then we found our own place. I finished high school and shortly after I turned eighteen I was scouted by a modeling agency.”

“And what did your mother think of this?”

Miriam drew in a slow breath, reliving the roller-coaster events of her life at that time. “Mom had a debilitating stroke just before that. She was fully dependent. I knew I wouldn't be able to go to college or university. I needed to support the two of us. So I started modeling.”

She declined to tell Tilly that she had also found out about Jake and Paula.

“Where did you go?”

Miriam shrugged. “The coast, California at first, then Europe,” she said, deliberately ambiguous. She didn't want to admit that she couldn't remember a lot of those years. One place melded into another in her mind—planes, hotels; up early to catch good light, up late to catch the best party. Then doing it all over again the next day or week.

“My goodness, what a life for a young girl,” Tilly said, gathering the rest of the pots and bringing them to the counter. “Well, I'm glad you're back here. We've missed you.”

“Why did you miss her?” Taryn interrupted, looking up from her game.

“Because she was a good friend. She used to come over here all the time,” Tilly replied, turning to her granddaughter.

Miriam fended off another attack of guilt. And Miriam didn't tell her mother much either. She figured it would be better for her mother if she didn't know all the details of Miriam's life. The years she had spent traveling had left her rootless, living a life that had no adults in it to call her to account for what she had been doing. There was no voice of reason in
her life, no guidance. Her mother could barely speak, let alone counsel her. She realized now how important even a quiet word of caution or chastisement would have been at that time in her life.

“What's the matter, dear? You look troubled.” Tilly laid her hand on Miriam's arm.

She shook her head and curved her lips into a smile. “I'm fine.”

“I win, Daddy. I win,” Taryn crowed. She gathered up the pieces of the game, then leaned her elbows on the table and looked at Miriam. “You want to play with me, Miriam?”

Miriam smiled at her as she picked up the cups from the table. “I should help your grandmother with the dishes.”

“Oh, nonsense. You go and play with her. It takes nothing to load up this dishwasher.” Tilly took the cups from Miriam.

Jake was still sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair, watching her through lowered eyes.

“I'll be blue, you can be red,” Taryn suggested, handing Miriam a playing piece. “You know how to play Snakes and Ladders?”

“I think so,” Miriam said, smiling.

Taryn grinned back. “I can start, okay?”

“Fine by me.” Miriam settled beside her, directly across from Jake. She chanced a glance up at him, lifting her chin as if to say,
What is your problem?
Throughout dinner she had felt as if he'd been watching, measuring. At first it had made her feel uncomfortable; now it was getting annoying. He tilted his head a bit, as if to see her from another angle, then dropped his chair with a
thunk
on the floor.

“I should go and check the cows,” he said tersely to anyone who was listening.

“I have to shake the dice and then count,” Taryn explained to Miriam, ignoring her father.

“Miriam, did you put that pot in the sink?” Tilly asked, looking up from the dishwasher.

Miriam felt a bit sorry for Jake. No one seemed to have heard what he said. She was about to ask him about the cows when Taryn poked her in the arm.

“Miriam, it's your turn.”

“Taryn,” Jake said, his tone hard. “Don't be rude.”

Taryn looked down, immediately contrite. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Jake looked around the kitchen, blew out a sigh and left.

Miriam watched him go, unable to keep her eyes off him. They hadn't spoken more than two words to each other since he had opened the meal with prayer. She had caught him looking at her, but had tried to act casually. It was difficult. She had thought their time spent in town might be a melting point. But she had been wrong. He sat across the table as disapprovingly as he had the first day she had come here.

She yearned to fix what hovered between them, even though, if she thought about it logically, it seemed pointless. She wouldn't be staying, and once she was gone she wouldn't be returning.

She turned back to the game and Taryn.

Twenty minutes later, with the dishwasher humming in the background, Tilly sitting at the table
reading some material she had gotten from church, Miriam figured it was time she left.

“No. Stay a little longer,” Taryn said. “We can play another game.”

“We've already played four games,” Miriam said with a smile, getting up from the table. She laid a finger on Taryn's nose and walked over to Tilly, dropping her hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for dinner. I really appreciate it.”

“It was nice to have you.” Tilly got up and pulled Miriam close. “It has been too long.” She held Miriam by the shoulders, looking at her with her penetrating blue eyes. “You won't let that happen again, will you?”

Miriam bit her lip and shook her head. “No. I'm sorry.” Apologies again, she thought. “Please give my regards to Uncle Fred for me.”

“I will. I'll stop by sometime this week, when Fred's a little better. Are you going to be around?”

“For a while yet.”

“Good. We'll have time to catch up.” Smiling, Tilly walked with Miriam to the porch.

Miriam pulled her coat off the hanger and turned once more to Tilly, her heart softening at the sight of the older woman standing in the doorway the way she had so many times when Miriam had come over as a girl. “Thanks for having me over,” she said quietly. “It meant a lot to me.”

“I'm glad. You come again.”

Taryn had followed them and now leaned against Tilly. Tilly absently stroked the little girl's head, and once again Miriam felt a clutch of envy. Taryn didn't
know how fortunate she was, she thought—to be loved so unconditionally by so many people.

Miriam tossed them a quick wave and then, turning, left. She hurried down the sidewalk, wrapping her coat around her against the cool wind that had sprung up.

She pulled her car keys out of her purse and was about to press the remote starter when she heard her name being called.

Stopping, she lifted her head to see where the voice came from, then saw Jake come striding across the yard, his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, collar pulled up against the chill.

Miriam watched him approach, allowed herself a moment to appreciate his height and the easy way he carried himself. Jake had always had a quiet maturity, a steadiness that had appealed to her own young, flighty nature. And once she got to know him, he had a surprising vulnerability. But the Jake Steele she'd known was but a boy compared to the man who now came toward her. This man was harder, more reserved. Each time their eyes met, it was as if he were appraising her. She never felt as if she quite measured up.

She wondered what he wanted to say to her now. Throughout the meal he had been quiet, watching her with those deep brown eyes that at one time had melted her heart, but now seemed as uncompromising as the Ten Commandments she had heard this morning.

“Out checking the cows?” she asked as he came closer. She was determined to treat him the same way she would treat any man she had just met—to be
chatty and interested in what he was doing, but keep her emotions firmly intact. Ten years was long enough to move on, and it was time she did.

He stopped beside her, his shoulders hunched against the wind. “Yes. I'm moving them out to pasture tomorrow.”

She was doing an admirable job of slipping back into her “country” persona. Next thing, she'd be asking him how many acres of canola he was going to plant and what kind of weed spray he was going to use.

She fiddled with her key chain, trying to think of something casual to say.

“Miriam.”

Jake spoke her name quietly, almost in entreaty. Miriam couldn't stop looking up at him, couldn't stop her heart from pounding. To her shame, hearing him speak her name made her feel as breathless as a young girl in the throes of her first crush.

Which Jake had been.

He was standing quite close to her, his hands in the pockets of his coat, holding it open. Their eyes met, and Miriam forced herself to try to breathe normally at the connection. “Yes?” she asked.

“I, uh, was wondering if you…” He paused again, and Miriam felt a foolish lift of her heart. He sounded the way he had the first time he'd asked her out on a date.

Don't be utterly foolish, Miriam reminded herself. You are both older and wiser. He's a father, a widower. She forced herself to keep silent, to wait to see what he wanted.

Jake shoved his hand through his hair and held her
gaze, his own steady, relentless. “I was wondering if you would mind waiting a while before you put your farm up for sale.”

Funny how quickly a heart could plunge. How quickly breathless hope could be replaced with harsh reality. She slowly drew in a breath, then another. “I can't. I already went to the real estate agent on Friday and listed it.”

Jake blinked, his expression unchanging. “I see.”

Miriam wanted to tell him that if he wanted it, he could have it. But she couldn't give him anything. Not her heart, not her land. And she couldn't tell him how badly she needed the money to satisfy her creditors. It was too humiliating.

“How long did you say you were going to be here?” he continued.

“I was going to stay until next Tuesday. Then I have to leave.”

He nodded again, biting his lower lip. He wanted to say something else to her, she sensed.

“I, uh, don't know how to say this,” he began. “But I get a real feeling that Taryn is becoming quite attached to you.”

Miriam shrugged the notion off. “I'm just someone different. That's all.”

“I hope so. I don't want her to be hurt.”

Miriam felt his words as much as heard them. “I understand exactly what you are getting at, Jake,” she replied, her anger rising. “I can't imagine what you think I would do to her.”

Jake looked down, digging the toe of his boot in the ground, then glanced back up at her. “Taryn forms attachments very quickly. I once made the
mistake of taking a girlfriend home to meet her. When we split up, Taryn was more brokenhearted than either me or the girlfriend. I don't want to see that happen to her again.”

“I'm hardly a girlfriend, Jake,” she said, the words sounding harsh even to her.

“That's true. I'm sorry if you misunderstood me, but I have to take care of her.”

Miriam unclenched her fists and forced herself to relax. “I realize that, Jake.”

“Well, I better let you go then.” He took a step back, turned and walked away, his head bent to the wind.

Miriam clutched her own coat closer to her, swallowing down resentment over her life situation and anger over Jake's. He was only doing what he had to. He was taking care of his family first. She couldn't blame him for that.

But it still hurt.

In Jake's life, Taryn was first.

She acknowledged the rightness of it even as she felt an alarming jealousy that this girl was now the most important person to Jake.

Even if there was a slight chance, even just a hint that Jake was interested in her, Miriam knew that she wasn't a suitable person to be Taryn's mother. Between her life-style and this one was a rift that couldn't be crossed. Her life was just a wasteland of broken dreams and promises. She really didn't have anything to give anyone. She wouldn't know how to be a mother, how to be a wife. The reality was that she was broke, out of work. She had a debt load that overwhelmed and frightened her any time she
thought about it. Even with the work Carl promised, it would take a long time to repay.

She was no longer an asset to a man, to someone like Jake. She would be more of a liability. In many ways.

Miriam got into her car, put it into gear and backed out of the driveway, wondering how she was going to last her allotted time here.

On Monday afternoon, Miriam pulled into Fred and Tilly's driveway. From what she could see, the big tractor Jake used for field work was gone.

Safe, she figured. She needed some gas to fill up her lawn mower, and there was none at her place. She had spent most of the day sorting through the stuff she and her mother had packed up and moved to the basement. After her “talk” with Jake, she had been so upset that she had had to keep busy, to keep her hands and mind occupied.

After about seven trips to the community landfill, she had substantially reduced the number of boxes left over. What was left could be put up for sale, and most of these she had moved to the shop.

So now the outside needed to be cleaned up. The real estate agent had said she would be coming either today or tomorrow to take a picture, and Miriam figured she might as well make it look as good as possible.

Stepping out of the car, she looked around the yard. Beyond the huge barn, she could hear cows bellowing. She wondered if something was wrong.