Читать книгу Blessings of The Heart - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

B rianne was still sitting in the kitchen when she thought she heard a knock on the front door. Chalking it up to her imagination, she didn’t move. As isolated as the house was, she hardly ever had company, even on a nice day. On a wretched night like this it was unheard of.

A second knock made her jump. “Who in the world can that be?” There was only one way to find out—answer the door. But what if it was a burglar?

“A burglar wouldn’t knock,” she countered, chuckling softly. Just in case, however, she’d leave the chain fastened till she saw who it was. Too bad she didn’t have a baseball bat handy.

“Sure, then if it is a burglar I can ask him if he wants to play a few innings?” Bree taunted herself.

She was still smiling at the amusing idea as she unlocked the front door and opened it far enough to see if she really did have callers.

Oh, my! She certainly did! Not only was Mitch Fowler standing on her porch big as life—he had two dripping wet children at his side. The pose reminded her of a mother hen corralling her chicks to shelter them beneath her wings. How adorable!

Brianne quickly undid the chain and threw the door wide. “You look awful. Get in here where it’s dry.”

“You sure?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks. We got flooded out, and I didn’t know where else to go. The kids are pretty cold.”

Ushering his boys through the door without delay, he ran his hands over his wet hair to smooth it back, apparently trying to make himself presentable.

Bree thought he looked absolutely endearing. The tender way he was hovering over his children touched her heart and created a never-to-be-forgotten picture of true parenting. When she was little she would have given anything to see that kind of love in her father’s expression. The thought brought a melancholy smile.

Mitch’s glance met hers and lingered. “I hate to be a bother. Have you got a couple of extra blankets we could borrow? And maybe some spare towels?”

“Of course.” Blushing and pulling her cotton robe around her more tightly, she said, “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’ll go get them.”

She frowned momentarily at the water puddling on her shiny marble foyer floor, then hurried down the hall. In moments she was back and handing out towels. “Here. These will get you started.”

“Thanks. I’m really sorry about this, Ms. Bailey. I hadn’t intended to bother you again.”

“Please, call me Bree.”

“Bree? Okay. This is Ryan.” Mitch laid a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder, then touched his sibling in turn. “And this is Bud. The little furry one Ryan’s holding is named Barney. He’s new to our family.”

“How—sweet.” Though the whole group was dripping, the dog was definitely the dirtiest. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be able to dry off her guests and then send them packing. Therefore, they’d have to make other arrangements. Ones that would keep the current mess confined to a small area.

“I guess I should see what I can find for the boys to wear until their clothes and shoes are dry. As for you…” A blush warmed her cheeks when she scanned Mitch’s full height. “You’re much bigger than I am. I’m afraid you’ll have to rough it.”

“No problem—as long as my kids are okay. We really appreciate your hospitality, ma’am. We’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

Bree shivered. The whole idea of having them stay, even temporarily, was so unsettling it made her insides tremble as she doled out more fluffy bath towels. And to think she’d just been yearning for some company because of the storm! What a stupid idea. Being lonesome was starting to look better by the minute.

Mitch’s hand accidentally brushed hers when he accepted the last towel. Startled, she pulled back and folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture.

He gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

“Storms make me nervous,” she replied.

“Not me. At least not until the one tonight. I’ve never seen that creek by Eldon’s rise so high or move so fast. I was afraid it might take out the whole cabin.”

“Is that what you meant by a flood?”

“Yeah.” Mitch draped another towel around Bud’s neck and proceeded to tousle his hair to dry it. “I tried to drive out to the main road, but we never made it.”

“Dad backed into a ditch and we got stuck,” Ryan piped up, wiggling and squirming. “Can I take a bath? I think I’ve got mud in my shorts.”

“Ryan! That’s enough. Mind your manners.”

Amused, Brianne pointed. “Sounds like a good idea to me. The downstairs bathroom is right around that corner. It has a large shower and linen closet. Take your family through there and down the tiled hall so you won’t get muddy tracks on the carpet. If you drop everybody’s wet clothes outside the bathroom door I’ll see that they’re washed and dried.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.”

Bending slightly, Mitch began to herd his little group of soggy refugees in the direction she’d indicated. All except one, that is.

In order to hold on to his towel, Ryan had had to put Barney down. The curious pup was busy sniffing his way across the foyer. Behind him, a line of smudged paw prints stood out prominently on the highly polished black marble floor.

“Uh-oh. Trouble,” Mitch muttered. Then louder, “Hey! Dog. Over here.” He began to whistle repeatedly while the children also called.

Barney ignored everything except the interesting scent he was tracking, which wasn’t too surprising since he’d only been with the family for a few hectic hours.

Mitch was about to leave the boys and go chasing after the wayward animal when Bree screeched, “Oh, no!” and dashed madly across the smooth floor.

She was really moving when her bare feet hit the rain puddle he and the boys had left. She started to slide, arms thrown out for balance, looking for all the world like a surfer hanging ten only without a surfboard or wave.

Mitch shouted, “Look out!”

Ryan punched the air over his head and hollered, “All right!” Bud clutched his teddy bear to his chest and wailed, “Barney! Barney!”

Brianne’s slide ended abruptly when she came to the edge of the slippery area. She staggered forward and almost fell flat on her face.

To Mitch’s relief, she regained her balance in time to overtake the shaggy little dog before it had walked three paces onto the cream-colored carpeting. He breathed a sigh.

The sense of relief didn’t last a millisecond. Barney was cringing. Poor pup must have been scared to death by all the noise, and now…

“Careful! Don’t scare him!” Mitch shouted. The warning came too late.

The moment Brianne reached down to grab the little dog he whimpered, shied and made a fresh puddle of his own. Right on her precious carpet!

Fortunately, by biting the inside of his lower lip, Mitch was able to keep from laughing out loud. Just barely.

By the time Mitch got his children showered and dressed in the makeshift outfits Bree had delivered to the luxurious bathroom, he was totally exhausted. He was also the only one who wasn’t clean, which meant he and the dog were probably still persona non grata in the rest of the house.

His biggest problem was what to do next. He’d already offered to shampoo the soiled carpet, but he couldn’t even do that much until he got himself clean and dry or he’d only make matters worse.

The boys were whooping it up so loudly he almost missed hearing the knock on the bathroom door.

He shushed them. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Mr. Fowler. Brianne. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find anything for you to wear. What if I wash your wet things with the other clothes and get them back to you as soon as possible?”

“I suppose that beats staying in here till morning,” he answered. “Hold on. I’ll toss them out.”

“Hey, Dad, can we go with her?” Ryan asked. “There’s nothin’ fun to do in here.”

Mitch was about to deny his request when Bree said, “If the boys are showered and dressed they’re welcome to come out. I have cookies in the kitchen, and it’s no trouble at all to make up some hot chocolate.”

“Well… I don’t know.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine without you for an hour or so.”

Although he was anything but certain she was right, he gave in to the chorus of pleas that followed the mention of cocoa and cookies. “All right. Simmer down. You can go. But Barney stays here. And if you guys cause any trouble you’ll have to settle with me the minute I get my clothes back. Is that understood?”

Two small heads nodded soberly. That wasn’t nearly enough to negate Mitch’s misgivings, but it would have to do.

“Okay.”

He stripped off his muddy jeans and wadded them into a ball with his pajama top, grateful he’d left his pajama bottoms on underneath the jeans when he’d dressed in such a hurry.

Hiding behind the bathroom door, Mitch peered around it far enough to toss his clothes onto the pile with the other washing.

Bree waited nearby.

He smiled at her. “If the kids give you any grief, march them right back in here, and I’ll take over.”

“It’s a deal.”

She was amazed when she saw the boys parading out. They looked positively angelic! Their hair was slicked back, their feet were bare, and the shorts and T-shirts she’d found for them were so roomy they made the children seem even smaller than they actually were.

The contrast between the way they looked now and the way they’d looked when they’d arrived was truly miraculous. The younger one was holding a scruffy teddy bear, which had obviously had a bath, too.

She paused and smiled, assessing the boys looking at her with such expectant expressions. How darling! Mitch Fowler must be awfully cynical to imagine that such cute kids would cause trouble. He probably didn’t have a clue how to handle them properly, the poor little things.

“Come on. This way,” Bree said, starting off. Ryan, Bud and Bud’s teddy bear followed obediently.

When they got to the kitchen, Bree helped Bud crawl into a chair, then smiled with satisfaction. This wasn’t so bad, was it? Maybe their short stay wasn’t going to upset her routine as much as she’d thought. After all, she didn’t dare use her computer during inclement weather anyway, and as soon as the skies cleared they’d all go home, and she could get back to work without any more distraction.

Satisfied, she placed a napkin in front of each boy and laid two cookies in the center. “Hot chocolate coming up.”

“I want whipped cream on mine,” Ryan ordered.

“Sorry, I don’t have any whipped cream.”

To Bree’s surprise, Bud immediately began to whimper while his brother made a sour face and turned sullen. Apparently, the boys’ cute, agreeable phase was over already. Oh, well.

“I like to float those little tiny marshmallows in my hot chocolate,” she said brightly. “I’ll put some in your cups, and you can tell me if you like them, too.”

“I hate mush mellows,” Ryan said.

“Not mush. Marshmallows.”

Crossing to the table, she dropped several of the small, rounded balls of candy fluff onto the napkins with the boys’ cookies. “There you go. That’s what they look like. You can eat them just like that. When they’re floating in hot cocoa they melt and get really good and gooey.”

The children were still sitting there, pouting and staring at the napkins, when Bree set their mugs on the table. “Okay. Here’s your drink. It’s hot. Sip it slowly so you don’t burn yourselves. And be careful not to get melted marshmallow stuck to the end of your nose. That always happens to me.”

She sipped at the contents of her mug with theatrical relish, then licked her lips and set the drink aside.

“I’m going to go start the washing machine so you can have your regular clothes back,” she said. “I won’t be gone long.”

Eyeing Ryan’s defiant expression, she decided it would be prudent to add, “If you move off those chairs or do anything except eat and drink while I’m out of the kitchen, I’ll have to put you back in with your daddy like he said. Got that?”

Neither boy spoke, but Bree was certain they both understood. Headstrong Ryan was giving her a dirty look, and Bud was clutching his teddy bear so tightly it was leaving a damp spot on the front of his T-shirt.

As soon as Mitch was alone he wasted no time stripping and jumping into the shower. Thanks to the raging storm, the kids had only picked up a few ticks on their trek up the hill, but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. No doubt the boys would be itching like crazy by tomorrow. The power of suggestion was already doing a number on him.

He soaped and scrubbed from head to foot. If he couldn’t dig his car out of the mud in the morning he’d borrow transportation and run into town to buy something to kill whatever bugs had taken up residence in Barney’s thick coat—and in the cabin. Until then, he’d see that the little dog stayed confined to this one room of his hostess’s home to avoid contaminating it, too.

Mitch was chuckling when he stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry.

Panting, the little dog looked at him with shining ebony eyes and cocked its head.

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” Mitch said. That was all the attention it took for the pup to begin wagging its tail so hard its whole rear end wiggled with delight. “You, and the lady who owns this place. I’ll bet she’d have a fit if she knew we’d probably brought bugs into her fancy house.”

Barney whirled in tight circles at Mitch’s feet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so adorable you can get away with just about anything. Like those kids of mine. I hate to have to start out by being tough with them but I know they need discipline. Desperately.”

The little dog’s antics heightened to include a frenzied dash around the room. Mitch said, “Whoa. Come here.” He held out his hand, and the dog skidded to a stop and looked at him with clear devotion.

He bent to pet it. Barney threw himself on the floor at the man’s feet and rolled onto his back in complete surrender.

Mitch laughed as he scratched the dog’s exposed belly. “Now that’s the kind of love and respect I want from my boys. I wish they were as easy to win over as you are, little guy.”

Barney licked his hand.

“Yeah, all I have to do is figure out a way to show them how much I care, prove how much I’ve missed them, and make them behave—all at the same time.” He snorted in derision. “The way things have been going, I figure that shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty years.”

When Bree returned, the cookies and cocoa were gone and Bud was sporting a sticky chocolate mustache. She could tell the children were fighting sleep.

“Okay, guys. Time for bed,” she said. “Use your napkins to wipe off your faces and hands, and let’s go upstairs.” Thankfully, there was no suggestion of rebellion this time.

Ryan made the choice of sleeping arrangements for himself and his brother. “We don’t need separate beds. We’re used to sleepin’ together,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’d get scared if he woke up and I wasn’t there. You know how it is.”

Brianne smiled. “Actually, I don’t. I never had any brothers or sisters.”

“Who’d you play with?” The eight-year-old looked astounded. Mimicking her motions, he turned down one edge of the embroidered coverlet while Bree did the same on the opposite side of the double bed.

“I had a few friends I used to hang out with,” she said. “We’d jump rope or swim or maybe go shopping together.”

“Girl stuff. Didn’t you ever wrestle or play ball on a team or nothin’?”

“Afraid not. My father tried to teach me to play baseball like a boy, but I never managed to please him.”

“Bet you didn’t even have a dog, huh?”

“No. My father didn’t like animals very much, either.” She grew pensive. “There was a stray cat I made friends with once. It was gray, with white paws and a white star on its chest. By being very patient, I finally managed to get it to trust me enough to take food out of my hand.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. It disappeared.”

“Probably died,” he said sagely. Pausing, he lowered his voice and added, “So did our mother.”

“I know. Your father told me. I’m sorry.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it and looked away.

Brianne helped Bud climb into bed. She stood aside so Ryan could join him before she carefully pulled the sheet over them both. Bud curled into a ball around his teddy bear, his eyes tightly shut. Ryan looked at her.

She tenderly stroked his damp hair off his forehead. “If you ever decide you want to talk about your mother, I’ll be glad to listen.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about. She’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

Bree could see his lower lip quivering in spite of his tough-guy affectation. Of course he was hurting. He was a little boy who’d spent the past few years of his short life mostly with his mother. And now she was gone. Forever. There must be some way to comfort him.

“Maybe you’ll see your mother in heaven some day,” she offered. To her chagrin, Ryan’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“That stuff’s for suckers,” he said, swallowing a sob.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Brianne took his small hand and gazed at him. No matter how lost, how far from God she’d felt since her mother’s death, she knew she should try to give the child some semblance of hope. “Oh, honey, Jesus said heaven was real. Who told you it wasn’t?”

“My mama.”

“How about your daddy? What does he think?”

Ryan shook his head. “Mama said he was stupid ’cause he believed all that ch-church stuff.”

“I see.”

Brianne’s vision misted with tears of empathy, of sympathy, for everyone involved. She wished mightily for the words to reassure the grieving child but found none. There was no way to go back and change things for Ryan and his brother, any more than she could change the painful facts of her mother’s demise, no matter how much she wanted to. All she could do at this point was continue to offer honest compassion and hope for the best.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, then stood. “Go to sleep, honey. You’ve had a rough night. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

The child sniffled and nodded.

“Good. Sleep tight.”

Fleeing the room, Bree barely made it to the hallway before tears spilled out to trickle down her cheeks. She leaned against the wall and dashed them away.

“Those poor children. What can I do? How can I help them?”

Thoughts of turning to prayer immediately assailed her. She disregarded the urge. All the prayers in the world hadn’t helped her come to grips with her mother’s suicide. Where had God been when she’d been a lost, grieving twelve-year-old, weeping for the one person who had truly loved her? How could she hope to help anyone else cope with tragedy when she hadn’t been able to help herself?

The only positive thing was what Ryan had said about his father. If Mitch Fowler was committed to Christ enough to raise his late wife’s ire, that was a definite plus. At least he’d be able to counsel his children based on his personal faith, which was a whole lot better than the self-centered reactions she’d gotten from her father in the midst of her despair.

Bree didn’t see the Bible as a magical cure-all the way some people did, as in, “Take two verses and call the doctor in the morning,” but she did believe it could be useful for sorting out life’s problems, including how best to raise kids. And judging by what she’d learned so far, Mitch was going to need all the help he could get, human or otherwise.

Bree pushed away from the wall and straightened. Though she didn’t understand what her part in the children’s healing might be, she felt included somehow.

That, alone, was a miracle.

A rather disturbing one.