Читать книгу Family of Her Dreams - Keli Gwyn - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Spencer wasn’t one to refuse a challenge. If Miss Grimsby was bold enough to claim that she could impress him in a day rather than asking for a month as he’d expected, she deserved the opportunity to try. The sooner he found out if her assertion was valid, the sooner he’d know if his search for a housekeeper was over.

As much as he detested the thought of a woman he didn’t know helping raise his children, Peter’s wife had vouched for Miss Grimsby. Polly had never steered him wrong.

While Spencer was certain Miss Grimsby could fix better meals than those he’d eaten lately, how would she deal with Luke? The poor tyke had taken to misbehaving. Having a different woman watching him every few days didn’t help matters.

Miss Grimsby seemed to have the strength of character necessary to tame his spirited offspring. Not that Lila would pose a problem. She’d not even begun to walk. Ever since Trudy’s dea— Ever since the service his little girl had been content to play quietly with her blocks.

“You may start now. I’ll run you out to the house and return at suppertime. Mrs. Carter, an elderly widow from church, is with the children now. She’ll show you around.”

She gave a decisive nod. “That would suit me just fine.”

Spencer stopped his wagon beside Miss Grimsby a few minutes later and hopped down to help her onto the seat. She climbed aboard before he reached her. Her independent streak didn’t surprise him, but her agility did. He wouldn’t have expected a woman that tall wearing boots with three-inch heels to move as quickly or gracefully. But there she sat looking as composed as any woman of leisure, the smooth plane of her neck exposed as she peered over her shoulder at the shops across the street from the depot.

“I noticed a general store earlier. Would you mind if I run inside for a moment before we get underway?”

Spencer groaned inwardly. “No, but make it quick. I’ve got work to do.”

“I’ll be back in a trice.”

He slipped his gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket. He’d give her five minutes. If she wasn’t back by then, he’d hitch his team to the post and tend to some paperwork. Waiting on a woman wasn’t something he had time for. He closed his eyes to block the bright summer sun and made a mental list of all he had to accomplish that afternoon.

The wagon rocked as Miss Grimsby climbed aboard. “I’m sorry I took so long, but someone was ahead of me.”

Three minutes wasn’t long. Three minutes was astonishing. Unsure what to say, he grunted an acknowledgment. He pocketed his watch, took the reins and started the one-mile trek to his spread.

With each clop of the horses’ hooves, the stabbing pain he experienced every time he saw the place intensified. Memories abounded, as sour as they were sweet. He and Trudy had worked hard to make the house a home. Although she was gone, he could see her everywhere. Why, he fancied he could even smell the rosewater she’d favored.

“What was she like?”

“Huh?”

“Your wife. You looked sad. Were you thinking about her?”

An inquisitive housekeeper was not what he needed. “That’s not something I care to talk about, especially with a stranger.”

“I’m sorry. I thought—”

“You thought wrong. I need a job done. Nothing more.” That had come out harsher than he’d intended. She was only trying to help. Even so, he didn’t trust himself to talk about Trudy without choking up. Silence was safer.

“I’ll pray for you. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one and feel that vacant ache.”

He bit back a retort. How could she possibly understand what he was going through? She’d never been married and left with two children to raise alone. “Pray if you like but no more questions please.”

She bowed her head.

For some reason her gesture comforted him. He’d reached the point where he no longer knew what to pray and trusted the Spirit to intercede for him “with groanings which could not be uttered,” as it said in Romans. If Miss Grimsby’s prayers could help, he wouldn’t turn them down.

When she opened her eyes, they held unasked questions, but the compassion he’d seen before was there, too. She smiled, and the future didn’t seem quite as bleak as it had. Perhaps she was as capable as she’d said and would solve his immediate problems. He’d know soon enough.

* * *

Tess remained silent the rest of the way to Mr. Abbott’s place. He’d made it clear her attempts to offer sympathy were unwelcome. She could understand. Each child who’d come to the orphanage handled grief differently. Some wept. Some talked about their losses, while others kept their own counsel. Some blamed themselves and suffered guilt, while others lashed out in anger. And there were those like her soon-to-be employer who did their best to go on with their lives despite the near-crippling pain.

As she’d prayed, a sense of peace had descended on her—along with a sense of purpose. She wasn’t here to get what she wanted. She was here to give of herself to this hurting family. All those years comforting others had prepared her for this. She would offer the care and comfort Mr. Abbott’s motherless children needed, and she would lift some of the burden their grieving father carried.

Above all she would guard her heart. Even though she was drawn to him, she mustn’t let herself care too much. This was a job like any other, and she would do well to remember that.

They approached a two-story ranch house painted bright red with white trim. All the windows were open, curtains peeking from beneath the raised frames. A wraparound porch beckoned her to slip into one of the ladder-backed rocking chairs gracing it and spend time sipping lemonade with a friend. She’d often dreamed of having such a house, although the one in her dreams was blue—a lovely slate blue with burgundy trim.

Mr. Abbott parked the wagon, and she was on the ground in a heartbeat. He held out a hand toward the stairs. “After you.”

She passed through the open front door and nearly gagged. What was that horrid stench? It smelled worse than the rotten eggs some of the more daring boys at the orphanage had hurled at Mr. Grimsby’s carriage once—before he’d meted out the swift punishment he was known for.

“Luke!” Mr. Abbott bellowed and charged inside.

That didn’t bode well. Tess followed on his heels. They reached the kitchen where a full-figured woman with white hair attempted to wipe a squirming baby girl’s jam-spattered face. Mr. Abbott’s four-year-old son ran circles around the dining table in the adjoining room, whooping like an Indian on the warpath.

Everywhere Tess looked, chaos reigned. Soiled shirts had been draped over chair backs, newspapers and toys were strewn about and a path had been worn through the dust coating the floorboards. Although she’d only been there two minutes, she itched to get to work restoring order and a sense of harmony.

Mr. Abbott addressed the older woman, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “What happened?”

“That boy of yours snuck up behind me when I was checkin’ the fire and chucked some salve in the stove.”

“What next?” He raked a hand through his thick blond hair, causing a swatch of his long locks to stand on end. Tess suppressed the urge to smooth it for him.

The older woman lugged the baby upstairs, and Mr. Abbott strode to the cookstove. Tess tore her gaze from him, entered the dining room and stepped in his son’s path. She caught the little fellow’s raised arm as he passed. “Whoa there, young man.”

He came to an abrupt stop and stared at her with eyes as big and round as washtubs. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tess, and you must be Luke.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Your papa is going to see if I’m the right person to look after you and your sister.”

He shook his head wildly. “No! I don’t want you here. Go away.” He flew out of the house.

She took off after him, hitching up her skirts with one hand, holding on to her hat with the other and running as fast as her high boot heels would allow. He dashed into the barn. She found him crouched in the corner of an empty stall, tears flowing over his flushed cheeks, and her heart went out to him. She approached slowly on tiptoes, but she bumped into a shovel leaning against the wall and sent it crashing to the floor.

Luke prepared to bolt, but she caught him by the shoulders and held him tightly as he twisted and turned. She squatted so she wouldn’t tower over him. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I won’t let go until you settle down. You can’t run off like that. A ranch is a big place. You could get hurt.”

“No, I couldn’t!”

The little fellow showed no signs of giving up his struggle. He flailed his arms as he attempted to break free. “You’re coming with me, Master Luke.” She planted him on her hip and headed to the house. His fists flew, coming uncomfortably close to her face. Her ears rang from his shrieked protests.

She reached the kitchen, where Mr. Abbott knelt in front of the stove filling two metal pails with glowing embers. He’d shed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing muscular arms. She had little time to take in the unexpected—albeit pleasing—sight because he turned toward her, exasperation etched in every line of his attractive face.

“Quiet down, Luke,” he said in a firm voice. “Do something, Miss Grimsby. Please.”

The mischievous boy ceased shouting long enough to send her a triumphant smirk.

She’d had enough of his antics. No four-year-old, however unruly, would keep her from securing the position. She’d dealt with his kind before and knew just what to do. “I guess you don’t want to see what kind of candy I brought. I won’t give it to a boy who’s pitching a fit. I’ll set you down—if you agree to stay put. Will you do that?”

He crossed his arms over his chest in such an adult manner Tess hid a smile. She rummaged in her reticule with her free hand and withdrew a small package. He followed her every move, his eyes glued to the peppermint stick she unwrapped.

“Here. Why don’t you smell it?” She placed the striped sweet under his nose, pulling back when he attempted to snatch it. “You may have it if you’ll sit quietly while your papa cleans up the mess you made.” She indicated a chair at the kitchen table.

The boy’s gaze was riveted on the red-and-white stick. He licked his lips. “I don’t like you, and you can’t make me.”

“You don’t have to like me, and I won’t make you. You just have to do as I ask.” She set him down but kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

His face scrunched in puzzlement. “You’re not mad?”

Tess shook her head. “I understand. You want your mama, but she’s gone now. I know you don’t want me here, but you need someone to cook your food, wash your clothes and buy you candy, don’t you?”

“You’ll buy me candy?”

“I will.” Provided Mr. Abbott hired her.

Luke studied her with the same intensity his father had. “Whenever I want?”

“No. Candy is a treat, but you’d get it sometimes.” She released her hold on him.

He sidled over to the chair and stood beside it a moment before sitting down. Tess handed him the sweet, which he promptly stuck in his mouth.

Mr. Abbott hefted a pail in each hand and headed to the back door. She beat him there and held it open for him. His bright blue eyes held a hint of amusement—and something else. Attraction perhaps? Of course not. She must be seeing things.

“I didn’t expect you to stoop to bribery.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t classify it as bribery. I prefer to think of it as a reward for making a good choice.”

“Whatever you call it, it worked.” She warmed at his approval and smiled at his retreating form.

When Mr. Abbott and Mrs. Carter returned, he got the story out of her.

“I kept my eyes peeled, Mr. Abbott, but you know how troublesome your young’un can be. Luke got into a scuffle with the baby. Both of ’em wanted to play with that canvas ball you brung ’em last week. Lila wouldn’t let him have it, so he smacked her. I told him to stand in the corner, but he don’t mind any better than I cook.”

Judging by the deplorable state of the kitchen, cleaning wasn’t one of Mrs. Carter’s strengths, either. Dirty dishes were piled everywhere, chunks of dried food clinging to them. If the house hadn’t been filled with the overpowering stench that had greeted her, Tess would have been able to follow her nose to the kitchen.

Mrs. Carter set Lila on a blanket with a pile of blocks. The little girl seemed content to play with them. “Sorry ’bout the trouble with the salve. I opened all the windows, but I don’t think it done much good.”

Tess wrinkled her nose. “What kind of salve would make it smell like some poor creature died in here?”

Mr. Abbott explained. “My dog has mange. I mixed lard and powdered sulfur, which I’ve been rubbing on him. It doesn’t have much of an odor normally, but it stinks something fierce if it’s burned.”

She laughed. “I’ll say. So, what do we do?”

“I got the stove cleared out. Now we wait for the smell to go away.”

“And the dog?” she asked. “What about him?”

“I’m keeping him in the barn until I get the mange under control. Could be a week or more.”

Mrs. Carter patted Tess’s arm. “I’m awful glad you’re here, young lady. You got a big job ahead of you. The place needs a bit of sprucin’ up, but I done my best. Those young’uns need a firm hand. I spent most of my time chasin’ after Luke. He’s a real handful, that one. Mind you, don’t let him out of your sight.”

Mr. Abbott washed up and donned his frock coat with its row of shiny brass buttons and a black armband to show he was in mourning. How sad that such a handsome man wore a perpetual frown. Perhaps one day she’d be able to make him smile.

“Might I have a word, Miss Grimsby?”

“Yes, sir.” She followed him onto the porch, doing her best to quell the queasiness his request had caused. Had she failed to please him already?

He cleared his throat and ran a finger under his collar. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was as uneasy as she. Surely, in his position, he was practiced in dismissing people.

“I understand you were governess to a number of girls before but only one boy—all of them considerably older than my children. Do you think you’re up to dealing with my son? He can be a challenge at times.”

Luke couldn’t begin to compare with some of the boys at the orphanage. “I am. Does this mean...?”

“What it means is that I’m considering things. Show me what you can accomplish before I get home tonight, and we’ll talk.” He descended two steps, paused and inclined his head toward the house. “You might want to go back inside before Luke springs a surprise on you.”

Tess maintained her composure until she was in the foyer. She lifted her hands to the heavens. Thank You, Lord.

She would set the place to rights, prepare a delicious meal and prove to Mr. Abbott she was the woman for the job. If all went well, she’d have a family to care for at last. It might not be her own, but it was the next best thing.