Читать книгу Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby - Lois Richer - Страница 8

Two weeks later Wade glanced around the old-fashioned church and grimaced as he caught sight of Clarissa Cartwright’s willowy figure two pews ahead. Her dainty blue-and-white-flowered dress accentuated her gorgeous blond hair and the narrowness of her waist, along with other assets he forbade himself to notice. She was tiny. As he studied her clear profile and smooth white skin, his body tensed, his hands clenched and his jaw tightened. Wade told himself it was anger.

Everywhere he went these days, she seemed to be there, waiting in the wings, a silent reminder that he wasn’t a very good father, that he didn’t know diddly about parenting. That duty and obligation were no substitute for the mother’s love that the kids needed.

She never said a word, of course, but he knew she was inaudibly pointing out the fact that he didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing when it came to raising kids, especially girls.

Just his luck that Tildy and Lacey had Clarissa for a Sunday school teacher, Jared drew her as his special pal in Boys’ Club, and Pierce couldn’t stop singing the praises of her dim, moldy old library. Some luck, Wade decided grimly.

No sooner was Wade’s back turned than Clarissa invited one or the other of them over to that mausoleum. For a snack, to plan an outing, to practice a new recipe. Blah, blah, blah.

Wade was fed up to the teeth hearing about Miss Clarissa Cartwright and her wonderful life! All it did was make him look incompetent and lacking. Which he was! But he didn’t need it rubbed in.

“Good to see you here.” A man whose name Wade couldn’t remember pumped his hand up and down, his face beaming. “Glad to have you in Waseka.”

“Uh, thanks.” Wade felt vaguely ashamed of his churlish behavior. Not everyone was all bad.

“You ever bowl? We’re one short on our team and I sure wouldn’t mind getting someone who can roll a few strikes. Call me up if you’re interested. Ed Mason’s the name.”

“Thanks. I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’ll think about it.” Wade watched the other man saunter away, then turned to gather his brood. Instead, he found himself virtually alone inside the building. Now what?

He sauntered down the aisle and out the door. They were there on the lawn, all four of them, clustered around her, laughing and giggling. Probably at some remark she’d made about him. Wade felt his jaw tighten in annoyance and struggled to suppress it. Why did she get under his skin like this?

“Really? A picnic? What would we have?” That was Jared, consumed with the condition of his perpetually empty stomach.

“Mm, fried chicken, maybe? With potato salad. And watermelon scones.” Clarissa brushed a hand over Tildy’s riot of inexpertly permed curls. “Maybe some chocolate layer cake for dessert. Or strawberry shortcake. How does that sound?”

“Like I died and went to heaven.” Jared groaned, patting his ribs. “When can we go?”

“You can’t.” Wade walked up behind them, frowning in reproof at Clarissa. “Miss Cartwright has other things to do. And we can manage meals perfectly well on our own.”

“But Clarissa was going to teach me how to make fried chicken for my home ec class,” Tildy protested. “And Lacey wants to get some help with that biology paper.”

“I’ll help her. And we can buy fried chicken in town. Or make it at home. Let’s go.” He herded them toward the sidewalk. “Tildy, you, Lacey and the boys go ahead and get lunch started. I just have to stop and talk to someone for a minute. I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, Uncle Wade.” Tildy didn’t even look at him, but he could tell from the pout on her pretty face that she wasn’t happy with his edict. Her heels hit the pavement with hard, knee-jarring thumps.

Wade winced at the girl’s anger while his own temper inched up another degree. It was all her fault! All this meddling from their nosy neighbor had made the kids rebellious. He turned back toward the church with vengeance fogging his brain.

“Miss Cartwright, I asked you to leave us alone. Why can’t you respect my wishes?”

She stared at him, her eyes big pools of innocence in her long thin face.

“I didn’t encourage them. Really! It was just that Pierce mentioned it was a lovely day for bird-watching. Then Jared suggested a picnic, and I joined in his game of pretend. I wasn’t hinting anything.”

Her face, open and oh, so innocent, peered back at him.

“Yeah, right.” He led her out of the way of the crowd and off to one side. Then he stood in front of her, daring her to try to wiggle out of this one. “I’m asking you for the last time to leave my kids alone. We don’t need your help. It was nice of you to do what you’ve done, and I do appreciate it, but we’re settled in now and we’re doing just fine by ourselves.”

She looked a little surprised and confused by his words. That blank, credulous look made him say something he shouldn’t have.

“Please, lady, just leave us alone. I know you want to help but you can’t. No one can. I’ve got to do this on my own, no matter how much I might want somebody there to share the load. We’ve got to learn how to be a family together. Alone.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” she whispered, her face ashen. The twinkle of happiness he’d glimpsed earlier disappeared. “I just thought I could help out. I didn’t think you’d find out about the jeans or the ironing.”

Wade felt his face freeze. He allowed his gaze to slip just a little lower, to the pressed cotton of his shirt. He should have known Lacey hadn’t done it!

“They’re so busy doing chores all day, they don’t have time to play. Everything is so serious for them. I was just trying to lend a hand.” Her earnest voice pleaded with him to understand, dropped almost to a whisper. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you have to earn your keep.”

Wade felt the pain in those softly spoken words and wondered what had caused it. Clarissa Cartwright hardly looked like a little Cinderella. In spite of that, he couldn’t stem the tide of chagrin that rose in a wave of gall. How dare she go to his house, check out his family and how he provided for them? How dare she snoop through his home on the pretext of mending their worn clothes? He knew they weren’t the best, but at least they were clean and paid for. Well, most of the time they were clean.

“Look, maybe we don’t live the kind of dream life you want. I know the kids have to pitch in. But it won’t hurt them. They’ll learn accountability. Raising them is up to me, not you.” He felt a tide of red rise in his cheeks as he noticed the tiny mending stitches on the knee of his jeans.

Even in the best of all possible worlds, his nieces couldn’t sew like that, and he should have known it, would have known it if he’d paid more attention to them.

“I love those kids as if they were my very own. They’re not going to get mixed up in drugs or booze or any of that stuff as long as I’m around.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But they’re not going to have a mother, either. Not even a pretend one. And they have to face that.” He took a deep breath and went on the attack.

“So I wish you’d stop trying to weasel your way into our lives just so you can prove to everyone how much better off you’d treat them. In two words, Miss Cartwright—butt out!”

Wade turned and found several pairs of eyes on him. He knew then that the congregation had heard every word he’d said. Before the noon siren screamed across the town, they’d spread it far and wide. A surge of remorse washed over him, but he thrust it away, his mind boiling with frustration.

Maybe now these people would stop shoving Clarissa Cartwright’s single status in his face!

Wade made himself spend time talking with Pastor Mike, chatting to Jerry about the walk-in cedar closet he wanted in his house. By the time he strode down the sidewalk, hands clenched inside his pockets, most of the folks had dispersed. And that included Clarissa. He’d known the exact moment she’d scurried away, head downcast, shoulders slumped.

He forced his mind away off her and took a detour on the way home in order to concentrate on the list of jobs he’d garnered around town. With a little luck, maybe he could make enough to put some money in the bank for that rainy day that kept happening when work ran out. He was going to need a little extra cash. Especially now, with the country club project delayed.

It wasn’t five minutes before he got caught up in studying the Victorian architecture of the row of houses on Primrose Lane. He kept walking, trying to remember the details he’d planted deep in his brain last year in order to gain acceptance to the college of architecture.

As he studied gables and turrets, Wade let his mind turn over the problem of life in Waseka. He’d tried to keep to himself, tried to avoid the inevitable matchmaking. He’d been through it enough times. And every time the kids got their hopes up, he had to dash them because the woman in question always wanted something he couldn’t give. She sure wasn’t looking to take on a ready-made family that belonged to someone else. At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he didn’t want the responsibility of yet another person cluttering up his life.

Wade trudged down the street with the sun beating on his head, lost in his thoughts of providing a future for four needy children who were totally dependent on him. His shoulders bowed under all that being their parent demanded, the knowledge that he was no good at responsibility nagging in the back of his brain.

He flinched in surprise when small, sharp-nailed fingers closed around his arm, pinching tight in their effort to penetrate and thus slow him down. Wade flung the hand away, then whirled around to see who was attacking him.

She stood there, sea foam eyes turbulent with temper. Clarissa might have to look up to meet his gaze, but she certainly didn’t seem intimidated. She looked more like a wasp about to sting.

“How dare you embarrass me like that? I didn’t help them out because of you! I wouldn’t do anything for you. You’re too stubborn and far too arrogant to want to help, Mr. Featherhawk.” Her words were so sharp, they could have torn a strip off him.

He waited, mentally flinching at the fury in her face, but keeping his own countenance impassive.

“Did I mention self-absorbed?” She crossed both arms across her chest and glared. “Or conceited? I did it for them, you know. Because they deserve some decent food, some time to play, a clean house and a shoulder to cry on once in a while. They’ve had to grow up awfully fast since their parents’ deaths. Can’t you let them be children for even one afternoon without lording it over them and forcing them to wallow in the drudgery?”

Oh, brother! Over the past two weeks they must have poured out the whole ugly story. As if he wanted to deprive them of anything when they’d already lost both parents. Wade sighed, his whole body sagging with tiredness as she continued her diatribe. As he waited, she slapped her hands on her hips and laughed, a harsh discordant sound that didn’t match her delicate looks.

“You’re so worried about getting trapped—who would want to marry you anyway?” She sniffed, her snubbed nose tipped upward in haughty reproof. “It’s not as if you’re the least bit pleasant to be around. I feel sorry for those kids, living with a bear like you, Wade Featherhawk. You carry a chip big enough for the whole Cree nation.”

Clarissa gave him one last huff, then turned and stomped away, her heels tap-tapping on the sidewalk. Openmouthed, Wade watched her until she closed her white picket gate, climbed the steps to her rickety old house and firmly closed the door on him. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why he’d chosen this street anyway.

Then he turned the corner toward home, his shoulders hunching forward as he thought over what she’d said.

“Way to go, bud! You’ve already got so many friends in this place, you can really afford to slap down the one person who was willing to help out, no questions asked. Smart, very smart.”

He shut his mind on that mocking inner voice and kept walking toward the park. He needed to think….

Wade wasn’t sure how much time passed before he wandered out of the park and down the street. He scanned the sky, but that didn’t help. Heritage or not, he couldn’t tell time by the sun. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the plume of smoke coming from down the street. From his house! Wade broke into a sprint that carried him through the front door and into the kitchen in less than a minute.

“Tildy? Something’s burning.” He grabbed a pot mitt and lifted the smoke-belching pan from the stove, searching for a place to set it down.

Since the counter was covered with dirty dishes and the table still held the remains of breakfast, he carried the pot outside and across the backyard to dump its charred remains into the garbage barrel.

Clarissa Cartwright stood across the alley, in her own yard, fork poised over a barbeque. She raised one eyebrow quizzically.

“Problem?” she enquired softly, glancing down at the pot.

“Not at all,” he lied.

“Oh, good. Well, if the children want to accept my invitation, I have extra steaks in the fridge and lots of potatoes right here, ready to roast. There’s apple pie for dessert and I made fresh lemonade. They’re more than welcome.”

Meaning he wasn’t? Wade sighed. No question about it. He’d burned his bridges there. She’d probably cross the street to avoid him from now on. But that was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

She turned the item on her barbeque and Wade felt his mouth water, his tongue prickle, his stomach rumble. A T-bone steak! What he wouldn’t give for a nice juicy steak on the rare side with a fluffy baked potato heaping with sour cream. And a slice of apple pie.

He closed his eyes and gulped, swallowing the gall that rose in his throat as he humbly ate crow. You didn’t take someone up on an invitation like that after you’d embarrassed them in front of half the town.

“Th-thanks anyway. But we’ve got our dinner ready.” He wished he could chuck the pot into the garbage can, too. It would take forever to clean.

“Yes, I can see that.” She gave him one last questioning look, then turned her back and lifted a sizzling steak from the grill, watching as the juices dripped onto the coals. “A little too rare, I think.” She laid it back down.

Wade swallowed again, scraped what he could out of his pot and returned to his messy, smoke-filled home with legs like cement.

As he gathered the kids around the table to munch on tasteless, white buttered bread spread with gobs of oily peanut butter, he faced the condemning looks in their eyes.

“To think we could have been eating real food. Steak,” Jared grumbled, glaring at the sandwich. “And pie. I heard her from my window. Pie!”

“Know what my Sunday school lesson was about today, Uncle Wade?” Lacey’s pretty face darkened like a thundercloud about to dump its contents all over him.

“I can’t imagine.” He chewed slowly, almost gagging when he tried to swallow the sticky concoction.

“Pride,” Lacey informed him sagely. “Silly, stupid pride. It always comes before a fall.”

“Oh. That’s nice, dear.”

A resounding silence greeted his words. Then, one by one, the kids left the table, their sandwiches torn apart, but mostly uneaten.

Wade took a gulp of water, then folded his napkin over the rest of his sandwich. He couldn’t eat another bite either.

Grimly he wondered how much damage it would do to his image to admit defeat and take them all out to the fast-food place for supper. He’d almost decided to do it when he saw Pierce sneak across the backyard and vault over her fence.

Not two minutes later the boy was sprawled on the grass, happily munching on something, his freckled face the picture of bliss as he gazed lovingly at Wade’s nemesis.

As he worked on cleaning up the kitchen, Wade had lots of time to notice that it wasn’t long before Jared, followed by Tildy and Lacey, decided to go for a walk. And when Clarissa and Pierce disappeared from her backyard, he knew exactly where all three had gone.

“Bribing them,” he muttered, viciously scraping last night’s burnt hamburger out of the frying pan. “That’s all she’s doing.”

His stomach rumbled agreement, and he threw down the pot scrubber in defeat.

“Sally’s Café is open this afternoon. I believe I’ll stop by for coffee with the boys.”

Wade pulled open the door, his toe thudding against the box that sat leaning against the closet door. Why had he hung on to his drafting table anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d ever realize that ambition. It was better to get rid of all the evidence of his aspirations to become an architect. Supporting four kids took every dime he made and more moments than he had in a day. Finding time to study would be impossible.

Wade picked up the box, opened the closet and stuffed it against the back wall, standing the rolls of vellum filled with his carefully sketched ideas behind the winter coats. He had only himself to blame—his sister, Kendra, would be living somewhere with her children if he hadn’t insisted she give her husband another chance, try to make their marriage work. That’s what had killed her and ended his dream, his insistence on avoiding his duty to her.

Wouldn’t it have been better to let Kendra move out on Roy, come and live with him, instead of asking her to work things out? He’d laid it on heavy, reminded her how much the boys needed their dad. Not because he thought Roy was any role model, but because Wade didn’t want the responsibility, didn’t want to put his own plans on hold. That had always been his problem—trying to get out of what other people expected of him.

Well, it was far too late to change it all now. All he could do was fulfill her last wish and care for them the best he knew how.

Wade sighed, closed the front door and strolled down the street toward the local café. When a light breeze ruffled the apple blossoms overhead and fluttered their petals to the ground, Wade thought he heard sweet, joyful laughter from the librarian’s house across the back alley. He ignored it and kept walking. If he didn’t get something to eat soon, his stomach was going to devour his backbone. Too bad it wouldn’t be steak.

Three weeks later Clarissa picked up the basket holding a pot pie made from her grandmother’s famous recipe. In the other hand she snuggled a basket of homemade biscuits and the carrier that protected her triple chocolate fudge cake—the one that had won a blue ribbon at the state fair.

“I don’t care what he says,” she told herself firmly as she forced open the back gate. “I promised those kids a decent meal tonight, and I am going to deliver. He can rant and rave for another two weeks if he wants. It’s no skin off my nose.”

But she hated the acrimony. She knew how hard it was for him to manage everything. The kids had told her enough for Clarissa to get the picture. Wade Featherhawk had not had an easy life and by the sounds of it, he wasn’t scheduled for a reprieve anytime soon.

Apparently life on the reservation he’d grown up on, had not been a picnic. According to the kids, there was little work and lots of bad memories. Once he’d packed the kids up and left, he’d had to fight for every opportunity to prove he did quality work. Not that he deserved a second chance, her brain piped up. He’s too cranky. But she wouldn’t dream of slighting someone’s work ethic just because he was in a bad humor.

Clarissa had heard the talk in town, of course. Awful bigoted talk about his heritage. There had even been rumors. Not that she paid them any heed. She encouraged those who had hired him to speak openly about Wade’s good solid work ethic, and the able way he completed the jobs he contracted to do. She’d asked to keep one of the extremely good sketches he’d drawn for a renovation, and showed it to several ladies she knew wanted work done on their homes.

Gradually, people in Waseka were coming to accept the little family as a permanent fixture. Or they would do if they could only stop talking about how needy the children always looked. As a hint on her behalf, Clarissa felt it was blatantly overdone.

She’d done what she could, of course. But it wasn’t easy with Wade’s orders to stay away ringing in her ears. Last night Pierce’s grumble had torn a sympathetic hole in her heart, and she was determined to repair it one way or another.

Clarissa stepped out her back door and peered across the lane, checking to make sure he wasn’t around. It was too early for him, of course. And he couldn’t know that she always took Wednesday afternoons off, or that his kids’ sitter, Mrs. Anders, had to cancel out for this afternoon.

Feeling like a burglar, she crept across her backyard, managed to yank the gate open and carry her booty across the way without dropping a thing. Jared let her into his yard with a wide smile, his lanky height towering over her.

“Hey, something smells excellent, Clarissa.”

“Why, thank you!” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I hope you enjoy it.” She watched him peering in the bushes. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find my football. I have practice tonight, and I need it.”

“Oh.” Clarissa nodded at the basket. “If you’ll carry these inside, I’ll help you look.”

Ten minutes later, her shoes muddy from traipsing through the garden, Clarissa found the missing ball behind the shed.

“Wow, thanks, Clarissa!” As he took the ball, Jared glanced up and frowned, his eyes on the kitchen window. “Uh-oh. Tildy’s in the kitchen again.”

“That’s because I said I’d help her with her home ec project. Jared, do you think you could mow the grass? It’s awfully long.” Clarissa wasn’t sure grass this long could be mowed, but it was either try to cut it now or declare the yard a part of the rain forest.

“It’s bad, I know.” Jared’s thin cheeks went a faint pink. “I’m supposed to do it every week, but our mower is broken. Uncle Wade just hasn’t had time to fix it.”

“Go across the alley and get mine, then. Okay?” She waited for his nod, then went inside, confident that he knew what he was doing. After all, she’d been paying him to do her yard work for two weeks now.

Tildy stood in the kitchen, peering into the oven.

“What are you doing, honey?”

“It’s not getting brown,” the young girl told her. “Our home ec teacher said the crust should be golden brown.”

Clarissa smiled as she closed the oven door. “The crust will get brown, just give it time. It’s supposed to bake for at least an hour at a low temperature. Now, what’s the project for tonight?”

“Coleslaw. I got the cabbage, but I don’t know what else to do with it.”

She looked so forlorn Clarissa couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, coleslaw it is. But we’ll need some room. Let’s do a little cleaning first.” Tildy frowned, but Clarissa wasn’t giving up. Opportunity didn’t knock that often. “If you load the cutlery into the sink, it can soak for a few minutes while we wipe down the counter. Put the glasses in, too.”

She showed the young girl how to organize everything efficiently so that a minimum amount of time was needed to clean.

“See, it doesn’t take that long,” she murmured, half an hour later, surveying the sparkling room with satisfaction. “Just don’t let it get so far next time. Remember the first rule?”

Tildy nodded. “Clean up as you go,” she repeated.

“Good. Now, where’s the cabbage?”

Clarissa managed to show Tildy how to mix the dressing and got her started on slicing the cabbage into tiny strips before Lacey burst into the room, her face a mass of frustration.

“I’ll never ace this dumb old biology,” she muttered. “I don’t even know where to get a frog.”

“By the creek. There are always lots of them in the spring.” Clarissa offered to help her catch one later that evening. “Hi, Pierce,” she greeted as the young boy looked in through the screen door. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a bird out here that I can’t name. And I have to. It’s important for my collection.”

“Okay, well I’ve got a book—”

The doorbell cut across her response.

“Isn’t anyone going to answer that?”

“I can’t stop now. I’m just getting good at this.” Tildy chewed her bottom lip as she concentrated on the thin strips of cabbage.

“Fine, I’ll get it.” Clarissa walked through the living room and opened the door. She almost groaned aloud. “Rita,” she greeted, calmly enough. “Can I help you?”

“I doubt it. I’m here in response to the petition to adopt these children. I have to check out their home conditions.” Social worker Rita Rotheby surged inside with all the pomp and ceremony of a battleship bound for duty as she tried to sidestep Clarissa. “Excuse me.”

“Uh, Wade isn’t here right now, Rita. Maybe it would be better if you waited until he came home.” Clarissa could picture his face if he walked in right now and found her there.

“Nonsense! Part of the information gathering has to be done when he’s absent. To see how the children are managing.”

Okay, then. It was up to her, Clarissa decided. She’d have to make sure this inspection went well.

“The children are fine. Jared is cutting the lawn.”

“Unsupervised?” Rita scribbled something down.

“I’m here,” Clarissa reminded her and had the satisfaction of seeing the woman erase the words. “Tildy is making coleslaw for her home ec project. Lacey is doing her biology and Pierce is cataloging birds.” She trailed behind the other woman, but stopped short when Rita dragged a finger over the kitchen counter. Surely she hadn’t missed a spot?

“You have dinner already made?” the woman asked Tildy in disbelief.

“Yes, and she’s got all the major food groups covered, too. Isn’t it great?” Clarissa smiled at Tildy, willing her to smile back. “As you can see, Rita, Wade is doing a fine job with these children.”

“Hm. Things do seem to have changed. For the better.” Rita inspected the laundry room and found the machines purring.

Clarissa breathed a thank you that she’d thought to start a couple of loads earlier. She followed Rita back through the house. With all the finesse of a person who has a right to be in someone else’s home, she opened the front door and smiled her best hostess smile. “Everything’s fine, Rita.”

“Well, it does seem to be. I’ll file this and send a copy of it to Mr. Featherhawk. I don’t like to do anything behind anyone’s back.” Rita surged through the door, then stopped. “Oh, there you are. I must tell you, sir, that I found a vast improvement this time. Keep up the good work.” Having given her blessing, Rita bustled down the sidewalk to her car.

Clarissa gulped, gaping at the frowning face of Wade Featherhawk. He glanced at Rita’s disappearing back, then at Clarissa, then at the house.

“It’s nice someone in this town is honest about their intentions.” His voice chewed her out for her insolence. “I thought I asked you to leave us alone.”

Clarissa carefully shut the door behind him, checked to make sure no children were around, then faced him.

“Yes, you did. And I tried to respect your wishes. But I was asked over here to help out. And I was glad to do it.” She held her head up, daring him to question her further. “Now that you’re here, I’ll be on my way.” She turned her back and walked toward the kitchen.

“There’s a load of jeans in the washer and a bunch of your shirts in the dryer. You might want to take those out before they wrinkle. Tildy, you’ve done very well with that cabbage, although I think you’ve cut a bit more than you need. Just follow the recipe I left there and you’ll be fine. Bye for now.” And gathering up her purse, Clarissa headed for the back door.

She’d hoped to get away without another lecture, but it was obvious that Wade wasn’t prepared to let this go.

“I’ll walk you out.” His fingers wrapped around her elbow determinedly.

Clarissa marched out the back door, down the steps and across the newly mown yard. Jared was now working at the side of the house.

“He must have fixed it,” Wade muttered, staring at the shorn lawn. He shook his head and focused on her. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Miss Cartwright.”

“Don’t bother! I already know what you’re going to say. You’ve told me enough times.”

She kept on walking. Or she would have if he’d let go of her arm.

“Then why—”

“Why do I keep coming back here?” She rounded on him angrily. “Because they asked me to, that’s why. And I can’t say no.” She gulped down her frustration. “I know you don’t want me here, but the children need my help. And so do you.”

“No, I don’t.” He enunciated each word with frustrated precision.

“Well, you need something. Rita is the head honcho around here, and Judge Prendergast will do whatever she recommends. If you don’t get her on your side, you’re going to lose those kids to the state welfare agency. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not!” Wade raked a hand through his hair, his face weary. “But I can’t be here all the time. I can’t do everything.”

“I know,” Clarissa told him calmly. “That’s why it makes sense for them to come to me. I’d love to help and I don’t mind in the least. I like them. I think they’re smart kids.”

“But I don’t want them to become dependent on you. They shouldn’t have to lose someone again. That’s not fair to them.”

Clarissa shrugged. “Is it fair that you lock a friend out of their lives, won’t even let me help a little by providing a meal now and again? Is it fair that Lacey and Pierce and Jared and Tildy all come to me for help and I have to send them away because you’re too stubborn to accept a little assistance once in a while?” She said the words that had begged release for days now.

“Is it fair that I can’t mother them a little?”

“Probably not,” he agreed grimly. “I don’t think it’s fair that their mother died, either. Or that I—” He stopped, clenched his jaw, then shrugged. “It’s just the way life has to be.”

Clarissa saw red. The hidden words poured out of her mouth with no regard for the consternation spreading across his glowering face.

“No, it doesn’t! Can’t you see that I only want to help these kids? I’m not asking you to be involved,” she added scornfully. “And I’m not after your money or your house or anything like that.”

“No, you’re after my kids.” His eyes glinted belligerently.

“All right! Yes, I am. I’m asking you to consider them and what it must be like to grow up like this. They can’t have friends over because there’s no one here to supervise.”

“I hired someone.” His chin jutted out as if to say “so there.”

“I know.” Clarissa nodded. “Mrs. Anders. She couldn’t come this afternoon so she asked me to stop in once they were home from school. But it’s not the same.” She continued. “They haven’t any spare time to go out with chums because there are so many chores.” She waved a hand at the house behind them.

“You talk about my house being run-down, but at least it has more than one bathroom and lots of bedrooms. This place is too small!”

As she searched his face for a hint of acquiescence, Clarissa let her heart’s desire pour out. “Why would it be so wrong to let me coddle them a little bit? I promise I’m not after you. I know I’m not wife material—I’m not beautiful or desirable or any of those things men want in a wife, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I can still be a friend to them, and a darn good one! I can love these kids and be there for them. Why won’t you let me? They’ll still love you, Wade. I would never do anything to change that.”

Wade stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He reached out and lifted a strand of her hair and tucked it back behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, sober. Clarissa steeled herself for the rebuff she knew would come.

“There’s nothing wrong with your looks, Miss Cartwright. You have a soft-spoken kind of beauty that any man in his right mind would find attractive. But I’m not that man. I have nothing to give. It’s all I can do to provide for four children. I don’t need a wife to look after, too.”

“Actually, I was in no way suggesting that. But those children are exactly why you do need a wife,” she countered, then stopped as the grim line returned to his mouth. “I’m not proposing, Wade. Really, I’m not! But will you at least let me help out once in a while? Will you come over for a meal now and then? Will you let me help Pierce with his birds and Lacey with her biology? Just until you’ve got things more settled?”

Wade studied her for a long time, but when he spoke there was a hint of amusement in his low tones. “Frankly, I’d be ecstatic if you’d take over Lacey’s biology. It’s a subject I detest, especially the dissecting. And you know very well that Pierce has never stopped questioning you about his collection, in spite of my protests.”

It was an admission, but Clarissa wanted more.

“And you’ll come for dinner? Tomorrow? No, Friday. You’ll let me help Tildy with her school cooking stuff?” She waited, her breath held till it hurt her chest.

“We’ll come for dinner on Saturday,” he finally agreed. “And I suppose it won’t hurt for Tildy to get some help, once in a while. But that’s all. Nothing more. You won’t drop over and clean the house or mend clothes or do the laundry.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you promise you won’t pretend there’s something more going on when the busybodies start talking?”

“Of course not!” Clarissa was scandalized by the very idea. “I’m just a friend, and I’d like to help you out.”

“Fine. Then I’ll help out, too.” He sniffed. “Whatever’s cooking in that oven didn’t come from Tildy’s hands. In repayment for your assistance, I’ll fix your roof.”

“Oh, but it’s just a chicken pie!” She frowned, trying to imagine how much fixing her roof would cost him. “I didn’t expect you to—”

“Take it or leave it,” he warned, but there was a glint in his eye that warmed her heart. “If you help us, we help you. Friends.”

Her decision was unfairly influenced by the drop of rain on her nose. “I’ll take it. I’ve got to get going.”

“To put pails out, no doubt. You should have had it fixed months ago.” Wade shook his head as he surveyed the sorry condition of her weathered gables and red-rimmed turrets. “I’ll come over tomorrow and take a look.”

“You don’t have to—”

His look silenced her.

“All right. Thank you very much. I’ll be at the library till eight. We stay open late on Thursday.”

“I know. Believe me, I think I’ve been told everything about you.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

“Really?” Clarissa frowned. “Like what?”

“You have this,” one finger trailed across her jaw where it curved up to meet her ear, touching the hairline scar, “because, at age six, you helped get Johnny McCabe out of a tumble-down barn. You broke this arm when Petey Somebody dared you to jump off a granary, and Sarah Kingsley stopped being your best friend when she stole all your doll babies in grade two.”

Clarissa gaped at him, nodding her head as he spoke.

“Mercy, they must be serious,” she whispered. “The townsfolk haven’t told anyone that stuff since Harrison.”

He frowned. “Harrison? Harrison was the man you were engaged to. He dumped you when your old friend came back to town. He married her instead of you.” Wade’s voice held a hint of sympathy. “What a jerk!”

“Harrison wasn’t a jerk,” she murmured, staring into Wade’s knowing gaze. “He was just confused. I wasn’t what he wanted, but Grace was. She was very beautiful, just like a model. I couldn’t compete with that.”

“He was a fool. Beauty goes a lot deeper than the skin.” Wade’s hand dropped away from her face as he took a deep breath. His eyes hardened. “But don’t get any ideas, Miss Cartwright. I’m not in the market for a wife. And I am not Harrison’s replacement. Not in a million years.”

The pain he inflicted with those words bit deep and it was all she could do not to burst into tears. She didn’t want someone to replace Harrison! She wanted someone better than him, a man who would think she was as wonderful as Harrison found Grace; she wanted a storybook kind of love.

Clarissa walked out of his yard, crossed the alley and yanked her own gate open. She stopped, turned and stared at him, only then realizing that he’d followed her.

“No, you’re not him,” she agreed quietly. “I don’t think anyone could ever replace Harrison in my life.” Then she closed the gate, walked across the yard and into her big empty house.

“Harrison was a sign,” she whispered as she stared out the window at the falling rain. “A sign that I’m supposed to be alone. And you, Wade Featherhawk, just confirmed it.”

She forgot all about the pails as tears, hot and bitter, coursed down her cheeks. How it hurt, to have those children there and not to be able to love them as she wanted, to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sobbed to the Lord, determination setting her jaw. “I’ll be their mother in my heart. He can’t stop me from loving them. No one can.”

But as the tears dried and her heart calmed, Clarissa couldn’t help remembering the look on Wade’s face. He’d wanted to let her help, wanted to let her in. She’d seen that.

So why didn’t he? Why was he so afraid to trust, let her into his world?