Читать книгу Finding A Family - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 9

“Hank? You mooning over some girl?” Larry had to repeat his query before his boss realized that he’d asked him a question.

“What did you say, Larry?”

“I asked if you’re mooning over some female? You’re sure not paying attention to the cows today.” Larry expected a funny answer. He and the boss bantered back and forth all the time.

Instead, he got a serious answer accompanied by concern on Hank’s face. “I’m worrying about Dad.”

“What’s wrong with the old boss? Is he sick?” Larry crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

Hank Brownlee shrugged his shoulders. Life had changed since his mother had died last year. “I—I think he’s depressed.”

“Well, hell, Hank, his wife died. Of course he’s sad.”

“But that was over a year ago. I’m sad, too, when I think about Mom, but it’s time to move on.” Only his father hadn’t. The older Brownlee had turned the ranch over to Hank and didn’t seem to care what Hank did with the spread. He never asked about anything. He just sat and stared out the window. He wouldn’t even eat if Hank didn’t come in at night and cook.

“You’d better do something or he’ll die, too.”

Hank gave his friend a disgusted look. “I know that, Larry. But what? That’s the problem. I’ve tried to spark his interest in anything but he just sits there. He won’t budge.”

“I think he needs a woman,” Larry said with firmness.

Hank almost slugged his lifetime friend. “You’re crazy. Dad’s not interested in another woman.”

“He might be if there was one around. Too bad he doesn’t live in a city. I heard there are lots of widow ladies out there looking for nice, mature gents to hook up with. He’d probably have a sweetie in no time. One already trained to cook and clean ’cause she’s had a husband before.”

With a sigh, Hank nodded. “I wouldn’t mind having one of those around, too.” When he saw Larry’s face, he knew he’d misunderstood. “Wait a minute! I’m not looking for a wife. But I wouldn’t mind someone else taking over the kitchen.”

“Hey, you can kill two birds with one stone. Hire a nice widow to interest your dad and she could take care of the kitchen, and even the cleaning, too.”

Hank gnawed on his bottom lip, looking at the suggestion from every angle. What could go wrong? Even if the woman irritated his dad, at least she might get a reaction out of him. That would be better than nothing. And he’d get some better meals.

“You know, Larry, I think you’ve got the right idea. I think I need to go widow-shopping!”

That evening, after a lackluster meal and the cleanup, which was worse than usual because he’d burned the meat loaf, Hank told his father good-night. He watched as his father shuffled down the hall to the master bedroom.

Hank had had several second thoughts about his decision, but his father’s behavior tonight had strengthened his resolve to go through with his plan. There was no time to waste. He got out some paper and a pen and sat down at the kitchen table. What should he put in the ad?

By midnight, after much erasing, he’d come up with a simple advertisement.

Friendly widow needed to handle a male household. Cooking and cleaning required. Private bedroom and Sundays off. Send qualifications and photo to Brownlee Ranch, P.O. Box 512, Ashland, Colorado 80546.

He reread it several times. He’d get Larry to read it tomorrow. But he wouldn’t mention his plan to Dad. He knew his father would condemn the idea, but Hank had to do something. He refused to lose his father, too.

Several weeks later he opened the day’s mail with a sigh. Not much anticipation. None of the women who had contacted him thus far had seemed right. Most of them were too painted-up, the kind who would expect to be able to go to town two or three times a week. The closest town, Ashland, was twenty-five miles away. And it wasn’t even a city.

Several of them didn’t look as if they’d ever lifted so much as a finger for anyone, let alone run a household. Hank needed help; he sure didn’t want someone else to take care of in addition to his dad.

He checked the postmark on the one letter he’d gotten today. Denver. Another city lady looking for a free ride he presumed.

When he ripped the envelope open, a picture fell out. He picked it up. Three people were in the picture, a lady around fifty, a beautiful young woman in her twenties and a toddler.

He liked the looks of the woman. Maggie. Nice name. Good, down-to-earth name. He scanned the letter. It was well-written and brief, and told him she enjoyed cooking and cleaning. She was perfect! Almost too good to be true. Hank decided to hire her. And as a bonus, he’d even allow the woman to let her daughter and grandson visit her at the ranch. Why not? Hank could afford to be generous, particularly if having the older woman around sparked his father’s interest. Yep, this widow-woman would be just what his dad needed. Yeah, she would be perfect.

And her timing couldn’t be better. Hank had promised a friend that he’d help with a round-up. The round-up would take Hank away from the ranch for a couple of days. Fearing to leave his dad alone, Hank had been afraid he’d have to renege on his promise. But now he’d have someone here to take care of his dad while he was away.

He quickly wrote out a letter of acceptance. His spirits were soaring. His dad was going to be taken care of and maybe even spark back to life. And hiring the widow would get Hank out of the kitchen. Hank had to admit he was a lousy cook. In fact, he’d been losing weight ever since his mom had died. And his dad was as frail as could be.

Hank didn’t tell his father until the night before his departure. As the older man slowly rose and headed down the hallway, he stopped him. “Dad, I have a surprise for you.”

“Don’t want any surprises,” he muttered, still moving.

“I’ve hired someone to cook and clean. She should arrive tomorrow, but I won’t be here to show her around. I have to go to Ron Harper’s place. Five of his guys are sick with the flu and I told him I’d pitch in.” His father just snorted derisively as he continued down the hall.

“Dad, I hope you’ll let this nice lady take care of you. Dad—I’ll be back in a week.”

Later, Hank gave more specific instructions to Larry, who was remaining on the ranch. “I left her first week’s pay in an envelope for her.” He handed Larry a white envelope. “Give it to her at the end of the week.”

“What’s her name?”

“Maggie. Good name, solid.”

“Yeah. What did your dad say?”

“Nothing. He didn’t seem to care. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Larry leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you are. When is she coming?”

“Tomorrow, but I’ll be up and out of here before she arrives. I left a note for her. Keep an eye on Dad for me.”

“Will do.”

Maggie Woodward pulled up in front of a nice ranch house with an old-fashioned broad porch. Tim could play out there no matter what the weather. She turned her car motor off and looked at the little boy still sleeping in the back seat.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d taken this job for Timmy’s sake. She wanted him to have a country childhood like she had had.

Maggie had missed ranch life, but she’d gladly become a city girl when her husband took a job in Denver. She’d stayed home with Timmy, but after Derek’s death, she’d gotten a secretarial job in Denver to support herself and her son and moved in with her aunt.

As she gazed around at her surroundings, Maggie wondered if her new employer would allow her to invite Kate to visit. She missed the older woman already and Timmy had cried this morning when they’d told Kate goodbye. So had Maggie.

With a sigh, she opened the car door and got out to take her son inside. It was late July, the hottest time in Colorado. She slid his little body toward her. He was sturdily built.

“Mommy?” the little boy muttered as he turned towards her body.

“It’s all right, sweetie. Finish your nap.” She climbed the steps to the back door, hoping no one would mind that she entered the house that way.

She heard something behind her and turned to see a young man hurrying out of the barn in her direction. She stood there in the afternoon sun, watching his approach.

“Howdy, ma’am. Are you Maggie?”

She smiled in relief. “Yes, I am, Mr. Brownlee.”

“No ma’am. I’m not the owner. He’s not here. He asked me to make you feel at…home. Who’s he?” Larry asked, gesturing to the bundle of little boy in her arms.

“He’s my son. May I take him in where it’s cool? He’s getting a little heavy.”

“I’ll take him.” She shook her head so he stepped around her and held open the back door. “Did you mention to Hank that you’d be bringing him?”

She came to an abrupt halt in the kitchen and turned around. “Yes, I told him. Is there a problem?”

“I guess not,” Larry muttered. “Uh, your bedroom is through here.” He led her to the room behind the kitchen. After looking at the room, he said, “I guess Hank didn’t have time to fix it up much,” he muttered.

“That’s all right,” Maggie told him. The welcome hadn’t quite been what she was hoping for, but she could handle it.

Larry pulled down the grimy coverlet and discovered there were no sheets on the mattress.

“Can you find a sheet or quilt I can lay Timmy on?” Maggie quietly asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Larry had no idea where those things were. He found Mr. Brownlee sitting in his usual place in the living room. “Sir, where are the sheets?”

At first there was no change of expression. It was as if Carl Brownlee hadn’t heard him. Then he frowned. “In the hall closet.”

Larry hurried there and found a folded sheet. He grabbed it and headed for the back bedroom.

Carl actually came out of the living room. “You don’t need to stay with me, Larry.”

Larry turned around and backed toward the bedroom. “No, sir. This is for the housekeeper.” Then he ducked into the room and laid the folded sheet on the bed.

Maggie, whose arms were aching with the weight of her son, breathed a sign of relief. “Thank you. If you’ll just unfold it a little.”

Larry did so and she laid her son down and gently covered him with part of the sheet.

“Who’s that?”

She whirled around to see a frail old man leaning against the door frame. “That’s my son, Timmy. I’ll try to keep him out of your way.”

“I like kids.”

Maggie smiled, unaware of the effect of that smile. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Carl nodded slowly.

“Want me to help you carry your stuff in?” Larry offered.

“That would be nice if you have the time, but I can manage if you have work to do.”

“Nothing that can’t keep.”

“I’ll watch the child,” Carl said, his gaze never leaving the little boy.

After she and Larry reached her car, she asked, “Is he okay?”

“I think Hank told you in his letter. His dad’s been sad—I mean, depressed, since his wife died.”

“When did she die?”

“A year ago last May.”

“And part of my job is to take care of him?”

“Hank thought—I mean, he’s not much of a cook. And he thought you could make Carl feel better.”

Maggie flashed that beautiful smile again. “I understand, and I’ll do my best.”

By the time Larry left the house, after a well-cooked supper in a kitchen that already looked better, he was sure Hank had done the right thing. He didn’t know why Hank had changed his mind about hiring a widow for his father, but the woman was a beauty and kind, too. And boy, could she cook.

She’d asked Carl what he liked to eat. His response had been his usual response, namely “nothing.” But Maggie had told him what Timmy liked. The little boy asked for cookies, cake, hamburgers, all the things children like. To Larry’s surprise, Carl had agreed with him.

Things were going well.

The bed in the room behind the kitchen was a single with an old mattress. Though Maggie longed for her queen-size bed in Kate’s house, the smaller bed suited Timmy just fine. He’d fallen asleep soon after she’d put him down.

She returned to the kitchen to find Carl still sitting at the table.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have any dessert tonight, Carl. You need fattening up, you know. Would you like a cup of decaffeinated coffee while I make a chocolate cake for tomorrow?”

That seemed to be a strange idea to him, but he finally nodded.

She fixed two cups of coffee. Then, having checked the cabinets’ contents, she pulled out what she needed. “You’ve got a lot of good equipment here. It’s going to make my life easier.”

She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he finally said, “My wife was a good cook.”

“I bet she was. Tell me about her.” She didn’t rush him. Going about the business of making a cake, she waited for him to answer.

Finally, he began talking, slowly as if his voice was rusty. But his voice increased in volume and speed as if she’d started an avalanche. She listened, occasionally asking a question or making a comment. By the time the cake was baked and iced, he’d fallen silent at last. She looked up to find tears sliding down his cheeks.

She took out two saucers and cut two pieces of cake, a large one for him and a smaller one for her. She handed a plate to Carl. “We need to test the cake to see if it’s good enough for Timmy.”

He slowly picked up a fork and took a bite of the cake.

Maggie watched him closely. She hadn’t had time to read the note the man’s son had left her. She hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong.

After he’d eaten several bites of cake, she said, “At first, it’s hard to talk about someone who’s gone. My husband died two years ago, just before Timmy turned two. But I found it got easier the more I talked about him.”

“Yeah,” Carl said, not looking up.

“I hope you’ll tell me about some of the meals your wife cooked. I could try to make them again, though I’m probably not as good a cook as she was.”

“The cake is good.”

“I’m glad. I was so pleased to see the big back porch when we got here. I think Timmy will like playing back there, and I’ll be able to keep an eye on him as I do my chores.”

“I might—I might sit in the rocker sometimes, to keep him company.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! Timmy hasn’t been around men much. It will be good for him to have a friend.”

After she finished her cake, she began cleaning up the dirty dishes calmly and efficiently, keeping an eye on Carl without him realizing it. “What do you like for breakfast, Carl? Bacon and eggs?”

“Eggs and sausage,” he said, as if he ate it every morning.

“Okay. At six-thirty?”

“That’s when Hank will want it. I—I don’t get up that early.”

“Neither does Timmy. How about we eat around eight, until Hank gets home.”

“Yeah, that’d be good. I really like this cake.”

“Do you want another piece?”

“I’d better not. I’ll have more tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Carl shakily got to his feet.

Maggie stepped around the table and slid her arm under his. “Will you show me where your room is?”

They walked down the long hallway. Carl pointed out a room. “That’s Hank’s old room. It’s still decorated for a little boy. I bet Timmy would like it.” He pushed open the door.

Maggie knew Timmy would love it. But she didn’t want him that far away from her. “It’s very nice.”

Carl gave her an unsure look. “This is my room and that’s Hank’s now,” he said, pointing to the door opposite his. He pushed open the door to his room and Maggie saw she had a lot more work to do.

“This is a nice room. I’ll get it cleaned up tomorrow.”

Carl hesitated before he said, “That would be nice. I—I get tired.”

“Because you haven’t been eating properly, but we’ll get you stronger.”

Carl turned and put both his hands on her cheeks. “Maggie, I think you may be an angel.”

“No, Carl,” she said firmly. “I’m a friend. There’s nothing angelic about me.”

“Well, I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too. Good night now.” She slipped out of the room and down the hallway to her new bedroom.

Hank was dirty and exhausted. He’d worked from dawn to dusk and stayed up half the night guarding the herd. He wanted a hot shower and his bed, in that order. He’d worry about food in the morning.

He’d have to worry about his dad in the morning, too. He hoped the new housekeeper had arrived and was taking care of everything. Maybe his dad was already keeping her company. He snorted in derision. Sure, life was that easy.

He pulled in the driveway and was soon parked by the barn. He’d asked Larry to stay close until he got back, in case he’d hired an ax-murderer.

“Larry?” he called. His friend stepped out and greeted him.

“Welcome home, boss. Glad to see you.”

“Thanks. Did she come?”

“Oh, yeah. And she’s terrific. Best food I’ve had since—well, since your mom died.”

Hank frowned. “And Dad? How’s he dealing with her?”

“Like Mary’s little lamb. He and Timmy just follow her everywhere.”

“What? He’s moving around? And who’s Timmy?”

Larry took a step back. “Uh, she said you knew.”

Hank knew it was all too good to be true. Harshly, he demanded, “Who’s Timmy?”

“Maggie’s little boy. I think he’s three, almost four. Your dad plays with him.”

“No!” Hank roared and turned on his heel, immediately striding toward his life-long home.

Larry was frozen for several seconds. Then he hurried after his friend.

Carl Brownlee was sitting in the rocking chair on the back porch. A little boy, Hank assumed the one in the picture, was standing at his father’s knee, showing him a small car.

Carl looked up and smiled at Hank. That act alone almost knocked him off his feet. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his father smile.

“Dad?”

“Welcome home, son. Have you met Timmy?”

The little boy drew closer to Carl before he shyly said, “Hi.”

“Hello,” Hank said, frowning. Then he looked at his father again. “Where is she?”

“You mean Maggie? I believe she’s putting in a load of laundry.” Carl put his arm around Timmy. “She’s a terrific housekeeper. And, man, can she cook!”

Hank felt as though his father had betrayed him. He’d been pleading with his father to eat, to talk, to smile. Now, a woman he hadn’t hired—an imposter—had come and his father had gleefully done all three for her.

He ripped open the back door and entered the house. Larry waited on the porch with the elder Brownlee and the little boy.

In the laundry room, he discovered the young woman in the photograph. “I didn’t hire you!” he exclaimed.

She straightened, her figure trim in snug-fitting jeans and a T-shirt. “I beg your pardon?”

“I didn’t hire you. I hired Maggie!”

“Are you Hank?” she asked calmly.

“Yes! And you’re not Maggie!”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not! Maggie was the older lady.”

“That’s my aunt Kate. The one in the picture with us?”

“I had no intention of hiring someone with a child. I won’t have it. You have to leave!”

Maggie continued to load the dryer. She closed the lid and cleaned out the lint trap before starting the machine. Then she turned and walked past him without saying a word.