Читать книгу A Western Christmas - Louise M. Gouge - Страница 13

Chapter Three

Later that afternoon, just as Ellie feared, play practice turned into an unruly mess. She willed back the tears that would have formed in her eyes had she given them a chance.

Not that any of the children would notice if she gave into her silent despair. At the moment, they were engaged in a rousing game of tag, weaving in and out of the pews, laughing and chattering so loudly Ellie could hardly think over the ruckus.

The only children paying her any attention were Caleb’s beautiful five-year-old twins. Hannah and Grace Voss were fast capturing Ellie’s heart as they followed her around the interior of the church like two little miniature shadows. They’d stuck close to her ever since their housekeeper had dropped them off fifteen minutes ago.

Ellie smiled down at the girls, taking in their identical sweet, tiny features, light brown hair and big green eyes the same color as their father’s. They each looked up at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to tell them what to do.

Two down, she told herself firmly, only thirteen to go.

“When are we going to get started?” Hannah asked.

“Soon,” Ellie replied. “So stay close to me.”

“Okay,” the girls said in unison.

Smiling, Ellie put a hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them near.

High-pitched squeals rent the air. The game had heated up, boys against girls. Someone was going to end up hurt.

Enough. “Everyone, please, settle down.”

Her request was promptly ignored.

For a woman who’d spent almost two years in a schoolroom of twenty-five boys and girls—ages six to fifteen—Ellie was supposed to be an expert at maintaining control in the midst of chaos. Well, of course she was an expert.

With the Voss twins following hard on her heels, she moved to the front of the church and did what she was trained to do.

She took control.

“Boys and girls.” She clapped her hands once, twice, three times. “Everyone gather around. It’s time to get started.”

When they continued to ignore her, she whistled, loudly, a technique she’d mastered in her first months in the classroom.

Half of the unruly children abruptly froze. Ellie repeated her request. They obeyed, probably because they’d grown bored with chasing one another.

With quick, concise words, she directed the group to sit on the floor at her feet then repeated her previous order, raising her voice to be heard over the boisterous laughter.

Another five children joined the others at the front of the church. Three mutineers remained, two boys and a girl, all of similar ages, somewhere between nine and eleven. They continued chasing one another around the perimeter of the room. Ellie bodily inserted herself in the middle of their game, forcing them to either stop or ram straight into her.

They stopped.

Wide-eyed and shifting from foot to foot, they seemed unsure what to expect from her. She took advantage of their uncertainty. “Now that I have your attention, please join the rest of us.”

Her tone brooked no argument.

The three dutifully complied. “Yes, Miss Ellie.”

The moment she returned to her spot at the front of the church, the various whispered conversations drew to a halt.

Ellie quickly organized the children into two groups, the older ones with speaking parts and the younger ones who would sing three separate songs during the play.

Kate chose that moment to rush into the building. “What did I miss?”

Ellie smiled at her friend’s flushed face and somewhat wild hair. “Nothing much, we’re only just getting started.”

“Wonderful.” With a pointed, I-told-you-so grin, her friend swept her gaze over the children. “I see you have everything under control.”

Ignoring Kate’s smug tone, Ellie put her to work. “If you could run through the play with the older children, I’ll teach the little ones the first song they’ll be singing.”

“Sounds good to me.” Script in hand, Kate collected her charges and escorted them to the back of the church.

Ellie settled on the floor between Hannah and Grace Voss. The twins sat on either side of her, so close they practically crawled into her lap.

As a teacher, Ellie wasn’t supposed to pick favorites; she knew this, knew the dangers of getting too close to any one child—or in this case two children. Yet she was already falling for the twins. She wondered if her fondness for them had something to do with her connection to their father.

Ellie shook her head at herself. Had she not learned her lesson in Colorado? Her affection for Monroe’s daughters had only led to heartache. Saying goodbye to them had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, maybe even harder than hearing Monroe retract his offer of marriage.

Yet, here she was, already growing attached to another widower’s young daughters. Not a wise move, considering their father was actively seeking a woman to marry solely to take on the role as their mother. Caleb wasn’t looking for love. And Ellie wasn’t looking to act solely as a mother to his or any man’s children. She wanted a real marriage and a family of her own.

Don’t get too close, she ordered, even as her arms wrapped around the girls’ shoulders.

Realizing what she’d done, Ellie quickly returned her hands to her lap and focused on the entire group of children. “Who wants to learn the first song we’ll be singing Christmas Eve?”

Seven tiny hands shot in the air.

She soon discovered that most of the boys and girls were familiar with the tune that accompanied the song “What Child Is This?” But they were shaky on the words. Repetition would be the key to their success, besides keeping to a single verse, maybe two if they learned the first one quickly.

She sang the first two lines then had the boys and girls repeat after her. “Well-done,” she praised. “Let’s try that again.”

On the second time through, she looked over at Kate with the other children. A quick headcount told her that one of the older boys had disappeared from the group. She was just about to alert her friend to the problem when Brody Driscoll reappeared, a mischievous grin on his face.

Ellie’s heart dipped. She’d seen that look on too many young faces not to recognize that trouble lay but a heartbeat away.

Proving her gloomy forecast accurate, a frightened female screech cut through the children’s singing, which was followed by several more shrieks—also female.

Ellie sighed as the girls, still screaming at the top of their lungs, scrambled away from Brody. They hopped up on the pews, dancing from foot to foot.

The older boys howled with collective laughter.

Kate, her face drained of color, eyes filled with panic, called for Ellie’s assistance. “Come quick!”

Ellie tried not to sigh again. But really, how disappointing. Everything had been going so well up till now.

“Stay here.” She quickly rose to her feet.

With a hand gesture, she indicated Kate join her in the middle of the church. “Tell me,” she whispered.

Kate hissed two monosyllabic, oh-so-troubling words. “Dead. Mouse.”

But of course.

At least Brody hadn’t brought in a live rodent. That would have brought a whole separate set of issues, namely chasing down the scurrying creature.

Stifling a grin—because, well, boys were after all boys—Ellie bypassed the screaming girls and shoved into the gang of laughing boys, who were taking turns slapping Brody on the back.

A quick glance to the floor and, sure enough, the dead mouse lay poised on its back, claws up, head lolled to one side.

Ellie disregarded the boys pressing in around her and focused solely on Brody Driscoll. He was a good-looking kid, probably about eleven or twelve years old, with dark, wavy hair and eyes nearly the same color.

He held her gaze almost defiantly, but Ellie saw the desperation beneath the bravado, as if he was determined to get a rise out of her and yet afraid he’d get exactly that.

Face blank, eyes still locked with the boy’s, she leaned over and picked up the mouse by the tail. “I believe this belongs to you?”

Brody’s earlier boldness faltered.

“I...” He glanced at his friends, all still snickering, then, emboldened once again, jerked his chin at her. “Maybe it’s mine and maybe it isn’t.”

More snickers from the other boys. She’d expected no less.

Just as Ellie opened her mouth to respond, a deep, masculine voice cut her off. “Outside, Mr. Driscoll. And bring your rat with you.”

Ellie spun around, her gaze connecting with Caleb’s. Except he was no longer the Caleb she knew. He was big bad Sheriff Voss, the dedicated lawman who kept order in Thunder Ridge. The man nobody challenged, especially not a mischievous boy at a children’s play rehearsal.

Ellie tried to gain Caleb’s attention, to let him know she had the situation under control, but his gaze was locked with Brody’s. “I said outside, now.”

Shoulders slumped, Brody took the mouse from Ellie’s fingers and headed toward the exit, Caleb one step behind.

No. Oh, no, no. Although sweet and certainly well-meaning, Ellie could not let Caleb rescue the situation. Yet she couldn’t question his authority in front of the children, either.

A quandary to be sure, but Ellie needed the children to know she was in charge.

She trotted after Caleb and Brody, caught up with them in the vestibule. “Cale—I mean, Sheriff Voss.” She gripped his sleeve. “A quick word, if you please.”

* * *

Caleb hesitated at the warmth that spread from Ellie’s fingers, past his coat and straight into his forearm. “Now? You want to speak to me, now?”

“Yes, Caleb. Now.”

Impatience surged. Whatever Ellie had to say couldn’t be more important than taking care of Brody’s willful disobedience.

“Please,” she pleaded in the soft, sweet voice that did strange things to his gut. “It’ll take only a moment.”

Frowning, he dropped his eyes to Ellie’s hand still curled around his arm, then raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m in the middle of something pretty important here.”

“As am I.” She dropped her hand and favored Brody with a stern, no-nonsense glance.

“Sheriff Voss will meet you outside in a moment. I suggest you spend the time alone thinking about what you’ve done and, of course, taking care of that.” She looked pointedly at the mouse.

“Yes, Miss Ellie.” Mouse tail clamped between his thumb and forefinger, Brody headed for the door.

Caleb stopped him. “Stop right there. Don’t you have something to say to Miss Ellie?”

The boy sighed, his shoulders now drooping along with his head. “I’m sorry for disrupting play practice.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, her tone full of the graciousness inherent in her character. “But don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?”

“No, ma’am. I mean...yes, ma’am.” Sighing heavily, Brody lifted a frustrated shoulder. “I mean, no, I won’t.”

She patted him fondly on the arm. “That’s all I ask.”

Brody smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Go on outside, now.”

“Yes, Miss Ellie.” The boy’s eyes were full of remorse as he exited the building.

Caleb had always known Ellie was a steady sort. Now he also knew she had a large store of patience. He attempted to follow her lead, though it called for great effort on his part. “I’m listening. What’s on your mind?”

“I appreciate your assistance with Brody, but you must understand. I had the situation under control.”

No argument there. “Yes, you did.”

When he’d walked into the church he’d watched her retrieve the mouse from the floor. I believe this belongs to you, she’d said without a hint of inflection in her voice, or fear in her eyes. Caleb nearly smiled at the memory. Despite Ellie’s diminutive stature, she was no delicate, fragile woman.

He liked that about her. “Your handling of the situation was quite impressive.”

A frown formed between her eyes. “Then why did you step in?”

“For Brody’s sake.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”

“His mother is sick, Ellie. Dying actually. She may not make it to Christmas. He’s not been coping well with the prospect of losing her. This isn’t the first time he’s disrupted a gathering.”

“Oh, Caleb. I didn’t know, didn’t realize.” Ellie drew in a tight breath, her gaze filling with understanding. “That certainly explains his behavior this afternoon.”

In a word. “Yes.”

“Under the circumstances, you’re the best person to talk to him.”

He nodded, forever grateful Ellie knew his past. He didn’t have to go into detail about how his own mother had died around this same time of year when he’d been nearly Brody’s exact age. Caleb only wished Ellie wouldn’t look at him with sad memories in her eyes. He didn’t want her sympathy for himself, but for Brody. He turned to go.

“Don’t be too hard on the boy,” she called after him.

“Only what the situation requires.” He found Brody waiting for him on the front steps of the church, his foot digging into a pile of freshly fallen snow mixed with mud.

“What were you thinking?” he asked the boy in a stern tone. “You know better than to bring a dead mouse into the church.”

The boy looked him straight in the eyes. Tears shimmered in his gaze, but he heroically swallowed them. “I’m sorry.”

Caleb didn’t doubt Brody’s sincerity, but he suspected the sorrow in the boy’s eyes had little to do with the mouse incident. “How’s your mother feeling?”

“Not good. She’s so weak and can hardly get out of bed anymore. I hate seeing her suffer.”

“I didn’t realize her illness had progressed that much since I stopped by last week.”

Why hadn’t Betsy told him? His housekeeper had ample opportunity and would surely know Caleb would understand if she needed to spend more time with her dying sister.

“It’s not fair,” Brody said, battling tears. “Christmas is Mama’s favorite holiday.”

Caleb’s throat seized. He understood the kid’s pain, felt it deep in his own soul. He had to blink several times to keep memories of another Christmas at bay, his mother’s last. “I’m sorry to hear she’s growing worse.”

The boy kicked at the snow, sending white puffs circling around his foot. “Aunt Betsy is sitting with her now, reading to her.”

“Tell me about the mouse.”

The kid shrugged. “I thought it would make everyone laugh. I didn’t mean to scare the girls or Miss Kate.”

“But you did.”

“I know and I’m really sorry.”

Caleb’s throat seized again, painfully. Brody didn’t have a lot of family. He had only his mother and his aunt Betsy, who worked as Caleb’s housekeeper during the day and was due to marry Reverend Wainwright in a month. What would happen to the boy when his mother died? Surely, his aunt and her new husband would take him in.

But what if they didn’t?

“Is Miss Ellie going to kick me out of the play?”

Like most boys his age, Brody was concerned with the immediate future, not months down the road. “Not my call. You’ll have to ask her.”

“But I’m playing Joseph.”

“Then you better get back inside and speak with Miss Ellie.”

“Yes, sir.” Shoulders squared, Brody hurried up the steps.

Caleb ambled into the building behind him. Graciousness itself, Ellie welcomed the boy with a smile and a clasp on his shoulder. She whispered something to him that made him laugh. The boy nodded vigorously before rejoining his group.

Ellie’s mother had been equally kind to Caleb during his darkest days. For one brief moment, he let the memories come, let them remind him why he was so determined to establish a stable home for his daughters.

Left to raise themselves, Caleb and his brothers gained a well-deserved reputation as wild and out of control, primarily due to the flagrant lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to his friendship with Everett, Caleb soon began spending more time at the Wainwrights’ house than his own. He’d seen firsthand the difference a loving mother brought to a household. She brought a gentleness of spirit and a warmth that no single man could ever hope to achieve on his own.

Now, with his mind poised somewhere between past and present, he watched Ellie sit on the ground and the twins lean in against her, snuggling close.

He felt it again, the ping, followed by a surge of longing for something so far out of reach he couldn’t put a name to it. He waited a beat, struggling with an onslaught of emotion and possibilities. Suddenly, the future became a clear, distinct picture in his mind.

Caleb knew what he had to do. If all went as planned, his family would be complete by Christmas.