Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (21 page)

She couldn't picture any amount of work, other than tearing the whole thing down and starting from scratch, that would make this place livable.

He came around the buggy to hand her down, then started toward the house. Was he planning to go inside?

“Mr. Stringman told me there are three bedrooms upstairs and a small office downstairs that can be converted to a bedroom if I need it.”

“You plan to get all of the kids into four bedrooms?”

“Three. I figure the downstairs one will be Mrs. Leggett's.” He began walking around the exterior, peering closely at the walls and windows, tapping on the wood here and there. “I know it'll mean they'll have to share more than they are now,” he said absently, “but it'll still be as roomy, if not a little roomier, than what they had back in St. Louis.”

Smaller than this? How had they managed?

She peered through a large window into what was probably the dining room. “It will be difficult to seat everyone in there at one time for their meals.”

“We can squeeze in by using benches instead of chairs until I can expand on the house. Come on, let's look inside.”

She followed him inside and tried to find some positive things to say. “The big windows in the dining room are nice.”

He nodded and moved toward the back of the house.

“The kitchen is a good size.”

Again he merely nodded absently as he checked walls and floors.

She gave up and simply followed him from room to room. At last they headed back outside.

“It's not ideal, but it'll work,” he said. “And there's plenty of room for the children to play and for us to have some animals—chickens, a milk cow, maybe even some goats or pigs. There's room for a nice garden, too.”

“And what about you? Do you intend to live here with them?”

“Of course, at first anyway. I can stay in the lean-to—it's not ideal but I've slept in worse places. My priority will be to take care of the major repairs first and then to expand on some of the downstairs rooms. It won't ever be as big or fancy as your place, but it'll suit our needs just fine.”

Eileen decided too ignore the
fancy
comment. He probably really hadn't meant anything by it. If this was what he truly wanted for himself and the children, than she would support his choice.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to live in that lean-to forever. I was thinking, eventually, I might build myself a little cabin on one corner of the property—far enough away to give me some breathing room, but close enough so they can easily call on me if they need anything.”

It began to sink in that they would all be moving out soon. She would see them at church, of course, and maybe occasionally in the mercantile or some of the other shops around town. But it wouldn't be like now. It would be Mrs. Leggett the children would be looking for to doctor their hurts, cheer on their accomplishments and to shape their world.

“How soon do you plan to move in? Surely you don't intend to move the children here until you've made it weather-tight. We are heading into the coldest, wettest time of year, after all.”

“They're a hardy group, and I'll make certain we have lots of firewood and blankets.”

“But you will stay at my place at least through Christmas as we'd planned?”

“Of course.” Then he smiled. “But we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we? I haven't purchased the property yet.”

But he intended to. And she had no doubt at all that he would make it happen.

And then what would she do?

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
t supper that evening, after the blessing had been said and all the plates served, Fern cleared her throat. “Uncle Simon?”

“Yes?”

“Dora Sanders is having a party at her home to celebrate her birthday on Saturday afternoon, and she's invited me.”

“And who is Dora Sanders?”

“She's Mayor Sanders's daughter,” Eileen answered. “I believe she is about the same age as you are, Fern, isn't she?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Fern turned back to Simon. “May I go, please?”

“When is this party?”

“Saturday at one o'clock.”

“That's laundry day, isn't it?”

Eileen couldn't believe he was teasing the girl like this. “I believe, if Fern helps in the morning, the rest of us can take care of things without her in the afternoon.”

He pointed his spoon Fern's way. “Does that sound like a good plan to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, in that case, I don't see any reason for you not to go.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Eileen. “I promise to work hard as can be Saturday morning.”

“I know you will.” Eileen gave the girl an encouraging smile. Fern had changed over the past few days. She seemed more content, more like a schoolgirl rather than a mother hen.

Perhaps the two of them could become friends after all.

“I know why Fern wants to go to this party,” Russell said.

Fern glared at him across the table. “Russell Lyles, you just hush your mouth.”

But Russell only grinned wider. “It's because Kevin Grayson is gonna be there and she's sweet on him. You should see how twitterpated she acts when he's around.”

Fern's face turned beet-red, and she looked ready to sink through her chair.

“Russell, that's enough.” Eileen knew girls Fern's age were easily mortified, and it was too bad of her brother to take advantage of that. “You shouldn't be teasing your sister that way.”

Hoping to take the focus off Fern, Eileen then turned to Dovie. “This chicken stew you cooked is delicious. Is that rosemary I taste in there?”

“It is.” Dovie took Eileen's cue and turned to Joey. “I do believe Buddy is starting to put some weight on his hurt foot. He must be feeling better.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Joey launched into a story about the latest trick he'd taught the dog, and before long conversation around the table returned to normal.

Later that night, for the first time since Thanksgiving, Eileen joined Simon on the porch after the children had gone to bed.

“You seem unusually pensive tonight.”

Simon shaved another curl of wood from the piece he was whittling. “I'm just thinking about Fern.”

“Don't worry. She'll get over Russell's teasing in no time.”

“It's not that.”

“Then what?”

He was silent for a moment as he sliced away another curl. “Do you think Russell's right about her being interested in this Kevin Grayson kid?”

Her lips quirked up as understanding dawned. “Most likely.”

“That's what I was afraid of.” He sounded downright forlorn. “How do I handle things when she starts getting really serious about boys? Or worse yet, when they start getting serious about her?”

Eileen smiled. “I have a feeling you'll do just fine. And you'll have Mrs. Leggett to help you.”

His only response to that was a muttered “Six girls. Six!”

A change of subject was definitely in order. “Have you decided about the Stringman place?” Eileen asked.

“Stringman is out of town, but I'll be putting in an offer when he returns on Monday.”

“I see.”

He must have heard something in her tone because he cut her a quick, speculative look.

She turned to look out into the night, feeling suddenly hollow inside. “When are you going to tell the children?”

“Not until I'm certain the deal will go through.”

She nodded. “That's probably wise.”

Then, on a totally unrelated note, she said, “We need to make this a Christmas for the kids to remember.” And for her to remember, as well.

* * *

Fern was very excited about going to the party. She'd picked out a set of pretty hair ribbons as a gift for her friend and carefully wrapped it in tissue that Eileen had on hand.

Eileen had also taken the delicate lace collar from one of her own dresses and sewn it onto Fern's Sunday best. On Saturday, Fern pulled her hair back with a silver hair bow that had been her mother's, then stood back for Eileen to check her out.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Eileen declared. She wished she still had the cheval glass mirror that had once stood in her bedroom so Fern could get the full effect.

Fern looked down at her dress doubtfully. “The other girls' Sunday dresses are nicer.”

Eileen pinched her lips in disapproval. “Someone will always have nicer things than you. And someone will always have things that are less nice than yours.” She gave the girl's hands a squeeze. “But there's not many as will have greener eyes or rosier cheeks.”

Fern did smile at that.

“Now, are you sure you don't want me to accompany you just to the front gate?”

Fern shook her head. “I know the way.”

“All right. Just make sure you come straight home when the party's over.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Eileen watched her go. Yes, Simon would have his hands full with his new family.

And she ached to be the one by his side to help him through every bit of it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

E
ileen walked out to the carriage house, where Simon was feeding the chickens. She rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill.

He glanced up at her, then immediately frowned in concern. “What's wrong?”

How could he read her so well? “It might be nothing. But I was expecting Fern to be home by now.”

“You mean she's not back from that party yet?”

“No.”

He set the pan of feed down. “I tell you what. You're probably right that it's nothing. But just to set your mind at ease, I'll go down to the Sanders's house and check on her.” He started toward the house. “Chances are they just got to having so much fun they lost track of time.”

“But Mayor Sanders and his wife wouldn't have.”

“Just tell me how to get to the Sanders's home and I'll be on my way.”

She decided she wasn't in the mood to sit back and wait. “I'm going with you.”

He looked prepared to argue, then seemed to think better of it and nodded. She quickly stuck her head in the back door to let Dovie know where they were going, then led the way around to the front of the house. All the way to the Sanders's home she kept getting a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Please God, let it just be my overly active imagination. But if it's not, hold her tightly in Your hands until we can find her.

They reached the Sanders's home without her having much memory of having made the walk.

Mrs. Sanders answered her knock and appeared surprised to see them. “Eileen, Mr. Tucker, what can I do for you?”

“We're looking for Fern. Is she still here?”

“Why, no. The party broke up an hour ago. But I believe Fern left before that.”

Dora appeared at her mother's side. “That's right. She got real upset when she caught that fancy shawl of hers on a nail. She said she had to leave.”

Fancy shawl? Fern had been wearing her black wool shawl when she left the house. “What did the shawl look like?”

“It was all shimmery-like and had lots of beading on it.”

Mrs. Sanders shared a look with Eileen. “It's that fancy one you used to wear on special occasions. I just assumed you'd loaned it to her.”

“Of course. Fern knows she can wear it whenever she likes. I just didn't realize she'd worn it today.”

Fern had taken the shawl. Without permission.

Why hadn't the girl just asked her?

More importantly, where would she have gone?

As soon as they were out of earshot, Simon gave her a worried look. “That was the shawl you pulled out on Thanksgiving, wasn't it?”

Eileen nodded. “Fern has run away. We have to find her.”

* * *

Two hours later Fern still hadn't been found, and it would be dark soon. Eileen stood at the kitchen window, staring at nothing in particular, racking her brain for the hundredth time on where the girl might have gotten off to. Wherever it was, she prayed that it was sheltered, because it was going to be a very cold night.

Simon had been out there searching all this time. And a number of men from the town had volunteered to help. Surely Fern would be found soon.

Dovie was keeping an eye on the other children in the parlor. Ivy was there, too. Eileen hadn't been able to sit still, and she hadn't wanted her own anxiety to convey itself to the children.

Fern was an intelligent girl, she kept telling herself, full of curiosity and quick wit when she wasn't being sullen. Once she had decided to let go of some of her belligerence she'd made surprisingly good company. Just a few days ago she'd asked Eileen questions ranging from how to bake a pumpkin pie, her favorite, to where the tower rooms were on the other two floors.

Eileen stilled. Could she really be that close?

She quickly headed for the stairs, then paused with her foot on the bottom tread.

She turned and stuck her head in the parlor. All eyes immediately turned to her.

“Sorry, no news,” she said. “I just need to speak to Ivy for a moment.”

Ivy immediately joined her out in the hallway, her eyes wide with worry. “What is it? Has something happened?”

Eileen shook her head, then signaled for Ivy to follow her up the stairs. “There's a possibility that she's hiding right here in the house. If I'm right, I'm going to need to go in and talk to her, but I thought someone should see that the signal is sounded so the searchers can return home.”

“Of course. Do you really think she's here?”

“I'm praying really hard right now that I am right.”

A moment later they were on the third floor and Eileen went straight to the little door set in the far wall. Taking a deep breath, she eased the door open. At first she didn't see anyone, and her spirits sank low enough to walk on. But then she heard a rustling noise. “Fern, sweetheart, is that you?”

Her only answer was a hiccuping sob.

Relief flooded through her as she realized that Fern was indeed here. With an unapologetically tearful smile and nod to Ivy, she ducked inside and closed the door behind her.

She slowly made her way across the low-roofed room, guided more by sound than sight as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

A muffled “yes” drifted back to her.

“Everyone's been out looking for you. We were all very worried.”

“I've done something awful.”

Eileen was finally able to see the girl, and she plopped down on the floor beside her. “I doubt it's as awful as you think.”

“But you don't know what I've done.” The girl's voice was almost a wail.

Eileen put an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “It doesn't matter what you've done, sweetheart. Nothing could be bad enough to make us want you out of our lives. Please don't ever run away like this again.”

“I took your beautiful shawl.”

“I know.”

“And I ruined it.”

“I doubt that it's ruined,” Eileen said calmly.

Fern carefully unfolded the fabric and showed Eileen the rip. “See.”

“Rips can be mended.”

“But it will never look the same.”

“No, I don't suppose it will.”

“Aren't you even the least bit angry with me?”

“Not at all. In fact, if you don't mind, I don't know why I should.”

The girl looked thoroughly confused. “What do you mean? Why should I mind?”

“I hate to spoil the surprise, but I pulled your name from the hat for Christmas. This was going to be your present.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. I mean—”

Eileen turned the shawl and held up a corner. “Look here, right in the very corner.”

Fern studied the place Eileen indicated. Embroidered there in Eileen's most elegant script, were the words
To Fern from Eileen.

Fern looked from the shawl to Eileen, her expression one of confusion. “But this is so beautiful. And it is special to you. Why would you give it to me? Especially after I've been so mean.”

“Because it was something you wanted much more than I did. And because I know you've only been pushing me away because you're afraid I'll hurt you like others have.” She stroked the girl's hair. “But I won't Fern. I promise, nothing you do can make me not like you. Anyway, you didn't ruin anything of mine. You tore a shawl that was your very own.”

“But when I took it, I didn't know it was going to be mine.”

“True, and that was wrong of you.”

“It makes me a thief.” Fern's tone was full of self-loathing.

Eileen winced, suddenly realizing what this was really about. “Perhaps. But a penitent one.”

“A thief is a thief.”

“Fern, look at me. You are not like your father.”

The girl's head shot up in surprise. “You know about my father?”

“Yes, I've known for a while now.”

“But, doesn't that make me riffraff?”

“Don't you dare ever say such a thing again. What your father did or didn't do doesn't dictate the kind of person you are. You are responsible for your own actions only, not the actions of your parents.”

“But those women who visited Miss Fredrick, they quoted the Bible, saying something about the sins of the fathers being visited on their children. Doesn't that mean God is going to punish me for what my father did?”

Eileen chose her words very carefully. “First of all, the Bible also tells us not to judge others, so those women should have kept their noses out of your business unless they had something charitable to offer. And second of all, I don't claim to understand all of God's ways, but I think those verses the women were referring to have more to do with the consequences of a man's sin on his family's happiness than with how God views that man's children.”

She smiled at the girl, trying to let her see the sincerity of her words. “God loves you very much and so do I. I don't want to hear any more talk of you being anything less than a beautiful child of God.”

“Oh.” She looked at Eileen, hope stirring in her eyes. “I'm sorry I treated you so mean before.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

She heard the sudden ringing of the church bells. Ivy had gotten the word out.

“But for right now, why don't we go downstairs and let all those very worried people see that you're all right. We can work out our apologies later.”

With a nod, Fern got shakily to her feet. “Do you think Uncle Simon's going to be mad at me?”

Eileen smiled. “Very likely. But he's also going to be very, very glad to see that you're all safe and sound.”

It just might take him a few minutes to remember that part.