Читать книгу The Holiday Courtship - Winnie Griggs - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“And what of Alex?”

The schoolteacher’s question pulled his focus back to the matter at hand. He was relieved to see she had already regained her composure. “Fortunately, Alex wasn’t at home when the explosion happened, so he didn’t receive any injuries.”

“No physical injuries, at least,” she amended. “I’m sure emotionally he’s hurting a great deal.”

He nodded. It was something he needed to keep reminding himself of since he tended to focus more on what Chloe had lost.

“As I mentioned earlier,” she continued, “I have experience with Chloe’s condition. My sister went deaf at the age of seventeen.”

He sat up straighter. Perhaps she could help. “How did it happen in her case?”

“Measles.”

He saw the sadness in her luminous eyes and felt the urge to comfort her. Instead, he kept the conversation on the issue at hand. “How did your sister handle it?”

“Not very well at first.” Her lips twisted wryly. “In fact, much the same way Chloe is handling it right now.”

“But she did get better.” Please let there be hope.

“She never regained her hearing. But she did eventually come to terms with what had happened. It took a lot of time, though, and a lot of work, both on her part and by all of us who love her.”

“So she’s fine now?”

Miss Whitman’s expression closed off for a moment. Then she seemed to shake off her melancholy. “Absolutely. For the last five years she’s been happily married. She now has two children and leads a very active life.”

Could he dare hope Chloe would turn out the same way? Right now that seemed an improbable dream. “But there’s a difference between an eighteen-year-old and a ten-year-old.”

“True.” She leaned forward, propping her forearms on the table. “But that doesn’t mean the same approach won’t work with Chloe.”

“You honestly think you can help her adjust?”

“I’m willing to try.” She gave him a direct look. “But it means work for you and Alex as well as Chloe.”

He’d figured as much. “Hard work doesn’t scare me.”

“Good. But first things first. You need to get them home and settled in.” She paused a moment, as if something had just occurred to her. “I assume you do have room in your home for them?”

“I do.” She certainly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Must be the schoolteacher in her.

“Is there a separate room for each of them or do you plan to have them share?”

“There are two spare rooms.” At one time he’d thought to raise a family in that house. But that plan had been discarded years ago.

Hank mentally grimaced. It seemed he’d be raising a family there after all.

“Are the rooms ready for guests?” she asked, pressing on.

This time, her question got his back up. Sure, both rooms could use a more thorough cleaning. And the smaller one had become more storage room than bedroom over the years. But in his defense, he’d left in a hurry. And he’d thought Aunt Rowena would be here getting things ready.

Still, that really wasn’t any of her business. “Close enough for now,” he said. “And when I went home I stoked the stove and started a fire in the fireplace, so it should be nice and warm by the time I get the kids there.”

She nodded approval. “That was a thoughtful thing to do.” Then she turned solemn. “As for the rest, I understand this is a difficult time for you. And I’m certain Alex and Chloe will appreciate having a room of their own and a comfortable bed, regardless of the condition.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Hank didn’t bother to hide his irritation. It didn’t matter that the conclusion she’d jumped to was correct; she shouldn’t have made any assumptions about him in the first place.

Then he tamped down his ire. None of this was her fault and she was trying to help. “Actually, my aunt Rowena was supposed to come over from Clampton today and stay with us a couple of weeks. The plan was for her to arrive ahead of us and get the house ready for the kids, but she’s been delayed.”

“I can see why that would make you cross, and more than a little apprehensive. But a grown man such as yourself should be able to take care of the basic housekeeping required.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t. Time to get this conversation back under control. “What exactly did you do to help your sister adjust? And can you do the same for Chloe?”

Miss Whitman glanced toward the next room again. “Alex and Chloe are tired and very likely apprehensive about their future here. As I said earlier, the best thing for them at the moment is to get them to your place so they can get comfortable with their new home.”

Why couldn’t she just give a straight answer to his questions? “Does that mean you can’t help Chloe?”

She gave him a don’t-be-silly look. “Not at all. I’m only saying now is not the time to talk about it.”

“And just when do you suggest we talk?” He was beginning to wonder if she really could help his niece after all.

“Since your aunt didn’t arrive as planned, are you in a position to provide them with a meal tonight?”

The way she hopped from subject to subject made him dizzy. “I’ll take them to Daisy’s,” he answered, making said plan on the spot.

But she gave a disapproving shake of her head. “Taking them to a restaurant is probably not the best idea. Much better to feed them at home, where they won’t feel on display.”

And just how did she expect him to do that, especially when she’d already guessed his cupboard was bare? “That’s all well and good, but—”

She raised a hand to stop him. Naturally she’d have a suggestion. “There’s a simple solution. I can come by your place later this afternoon and cook a simple meal for you.”

Her generous and unexpected offer, made with such no-nonsense confidence, set him back a moment. Putting aside the fact that her I-have-all-the-answers attitude set his teeth on edge, it was mighty tempting to accept her offer. After all, a home-cooked meal—and such interesting company—for the kids’ first day at his home was more than he could have hoped for just a few short minutes ago. But how far into her debt did he want to go? “I couldn’t impose on you—”

She interrupted his admittedly halfhearted protest. “Nonsense. I want to do this. And after the meal, the two of us can talk in more detail about how we might best help Chloe.”

Her use of we made it sound as if she planned to have some long-term involvement in Chloe’s life. For some reason that perked him up. “All right. If you’re sure it’s not imposing on your kindness too much, then I’d certainly welcome your help.”

“That’s settled, then.” She stood and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Chandler—this is something the three of you will be able to work through.”

Hank stood as well. She certainly had an air of confidence about her—he hoped it was justified. Though he wondered how long eventually would take. “Can I give you a ride to the boardinghouse?”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. You just get those two children home and insist they lie down for a nap.” She looked at him. “And I suggest you do the same.”

Sleep did sound good, but there was too much to be done for him to waste time on a bit of shut-eye this afternoon.

“By the way,” she continued, “the children may decide they want to be together, at least at first. I wouldn’t make much to-do over it if they do. It’s natural for them to want to cling to something familiar in a situation like this, and right now the only familiar thing left in their world is each other. And Smudge.”

“If you’re going to shop for the makings of our meal, just have the shopkeepers put the cost on my account.”

She nodded. “Very well. I’ll see you at your place in about an hour.” And with that, she headed for the door.

Hank slowly followed her back into the sweet shop, watching her walk ahead of him. There was nothing tentative about this woman. She moved the same way she talked, with confidence and authority. The knowledge that she planned to help him, that he was no longer facing this alone, gave him renewed energy.

Miss Whitman, for all her I-know-best attitude, had provided him with the first flicker of hope for Chloe since he’d left Turnabout four weeks ago, and for that he was grateful. If the schoolteacher could truly do what she said she could, he’d certainly not begrudge her any amount of superior attitude.

She paused beside the children for a moment, saying something to them, touching Alex lightly on the shoulder, Chloe on the arm. And he could see the children respond to her, if not warmly, at least respectfully.

How did she do it, get them to relax around her like that? For a few moments, when he’d first walked into the Blue Bottle, he’d seen his niece and nephew as they were meant to be—sitting at the table, sipping cocoa and smiling.

Then they’d spied him and gloom settled over them once more.

He tried not to take it personally. It seemed, though, that he was a reminder to them of everything they’d lost.

Would that ever change?

Perhaps with the schoolteacher’s help, he could learn the secret to earning their trust.

But first he needed to earn her trust.

* * *

Janell stayed behind at the sweet shop after Mr. Chandler and his charges had departed. Over the past year and a half, she and Eve had become very good friends. It was the first time she’d let herself get close, really close, to anyone since she’d moved to Turnabout nearly seven years ago.

“Those poor children,” Eve said, putting her hand protectively over her abdomen. “Mr. Chandler is going to have his hands full caring for them, I’m afraid.” Then she smiled. “But I can see already that he’s going to have some very competent help.”

Janell and Eve had shared a great deal about their pasts with each other as their friendship grew, so her friend knew all about what had happened to her sister, Lizzie. “I certainly intend to do what I can to help them. I wasn’t able to stay and help Lizzie as much as I would have liked. I feel like perhaps God is giving me a second chance with Chloe.”

Eve also knew about her shameful secret, the one that had driven Janell from her family and home in Illinois and brought her to Turnabout. Eve was the only one here who knew.

Because if anyone else found out, it would likely mean the end of Janell’s stay in Turnabout, something she couldn’t bear.

Eve patted her hand. “What happened was no fault of your own. But we both have scars from our past to deal with, so I’ll say no more. Just let me know how I can help.”

“Would you mind letting Verity know I won’t make it to choir practice this evening and probably won’t sing with the choir at church tomorrow?” The choir director and several of the members had made a habit of stopping here for a cup of tea before choir practice on Saturday evenings.

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll understand, given the circumstances.”

Talk of the choir reminded Janell of something else.

She gave Eve a sympathetic smile. “Is Leo still smarting over what happened at the Thanksgiving festival?”

Leo, Eve’s adopted son, was part of the children’s choir and had been selected for a small solo part at the festival. However, when he’d stepped forward to sing, his voice had cracked. The boy had turned candy-apple red and rushed off the stage in embarrassment.

Eve nodded. “I’m afraid so. Telling him it’s a natural part of growing up for a boy hasn’t helped.” A touch of worry invaded her expression. “He’s already told Verity he won’t be taking part in the Christmas program.”

Verity had formed a children’s choir last spring and had worked wonders with the group ever since.

“As it happens,” Janell said, “I’ve been thinking about working with some of the children to put on a short nativity play in conjunction with the children’s choir Christmas Eve program. Do you think Leo might be interested in taking part?”

Eve smiled. “As long as it doesn’t require him to sing, he just might.”

“Then I’ll speak to him about it at school on Monday.”

Janell took her leave and headed for the boardinghouse, her thoughts once again focused on Mr. Chandler and his charges. Her pace was brisk, her mind racing. Already she was making mental lists of all the things she could do—in both the short and long term—to help the three of them. The first thing she’d do would be to write a letter to Dr. Carson, the doctor who’d been such a help with Lizzie. Since he worked at St. Matthew’s School for the Deaf, he would have access to some of the most current information and materials to help someone like Chloe.

She would also write to Lizzie and get her thoughts on what would help the girl the most from an emotional perspective.

One thing she could do immediately, though, would be to dig through her trunk and find the book she had on sign language. It would be a good place for Mr. Chandler and the children to start.

Twenty minutes later, Janell had the letters written, had retrieved the book and was headed back out of the boardinghouse. She had a number of errands to run before heading to Mr. Chandler’s home. Post the letters, stop by the butcher shop and the mercantile and also stop in at the schoolhouse to pick up a few things.

Janell offered up a little prayer of thanksgiving. God was giving her the opportunity to help this little girl, to share what she’d learned with Lizzie with someone else in need. And she was determined to see it all the way through—not turn tail and run as she had before.

Mr. Chandler had appeared to be a little reluctant to accept her help. Thank goodness he’d finally come around—once she explained things properly he’d see that there was merit to what she could offer.

The sawmill owner was someone she hadn’t really had the opportunity to interact with during her time here in Turnabout. As a teacher her main interactions were with the schoolchildren and their parents. Being a member of the church choir gave her another social outlet. And being a teacher, she was very circumspect in her dealings with single men.

Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t noticed him before. After all, he was the kind of man one couldn’t help but notice. Tall and lean, with a firm jaw and gray eyes, he didn’t say much, but there was an air of quiet command about him. She got the sense that he was a man of good character and was well liked in the community.

And now that she’d had a chance to interact with him on a personal basis, she found that he was also a very intriguing man. In fact, she was surprised none of the single ladies or matchmaking mamas here in town had set their sights on him. Being married would certainly make his current situation easier—for both him and the children.

Not that she had any aspirations on that score herself. Her world revolved around the schoolchildren and the choir—that was enough for her.

It had to be.

Because she was living a lie, had been ever since she’d moved to Turnabout. Marriage was not an option for her any longer, something she’d come to terms with a long time ago. It was why she discouraged any attempts by the local gentlemen to come calling. Why she told herself she could live a fulfilling life teaching other people’s children, even if she’d never have one of her own.

And most days she could make herself believe that. Being with Mr. Chandler today, however, had stirred up some emotions best left dormant.

Janell brought her wandering mind back to the matter at hand. Yes, the sawmill owner had the makings of a fine family man, and all things considered, the children could definitely have done worse in finding a guardian than Mr. Hank Chandler.