The Hand-Me-Down Family (23 page)

“U
ncle Jack.”

Jack tested the saw blade he was sharpening. “Hmm?”

“Does Aunt Callie's face bother you?”

Jack paused and looked up. Simon's earnest eyes were focused directly on him and Jack knew his answer was important.

“I suppose you're talking about her birthmark.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, my ma and Aunt Julia were both real pretty. Don't you wish she was more like that? Or at least normal looking.”

Conscious of the weight of the moment, Jack chose his words carefully. “Your ma was pretty, all right. But did you ever see that scar she had on her arm, all crooked and puckered-looking?”

“Uh-huh. But that was different.”

“Why? You can't deny that it was ugly. Even she thought so. It made her look different from everyone else so she always hid it by wearing long-sleeved dresses.”

“But that was just a scar.”

“You think it's not the same as your Aunt Callie's birth
mark, but that's only because Nell was your mother and you loved her.”

Jack leaned forward. “You're old enough to realize that it's what's inside a person that matters. And your Aunt Callie is a loving, generous woman with a good heart. Besides, there are all kinds of beauty, and your Aunt Callie has a beauty all her own. So, no, her birthmark doesn't bother me, not even a little bit.” In fact, he'd gotten to where he hardly even noticed it anymore. There was so much more about her, things to admire and respect.

Simon scuffed a toe in the dirt. “Not even when other people make fun of her?”

So, someone had said something to him, had they? “Well, for one thing, folks around here know better than to make fun of her, or any member of my family for that matter, in front of me. I'd set 'em straight faster than a hummingbird can flit.” He let that soak in a moment, then added, “The same way your Aunt Callie set Mr. Dobson straight yesterday.”

Simon reddened. “You heard about that?”

“I witnessed it.”

That set Simon back. “Then why didn't
you
step in? Did you think I was guilty?”

“Of course not. By the time I got there, your Aunt Callie had it under control. I figured she was doing just fine without me.” He lifted a brow. “Don't you agree?”

Simon nodded, and jammed his hands in his pockets.

Jack set the saw down. “Listen, Simon, this is something that shapes the kind of person you are at the very core. Making fun of people, especially for something they have no control over, is a mean-spirited, cowardly thing to do. Any man worth his salt, a man who considers honor not just a word but an actual way of life—would never indulge in such a thing.”

“I suppose.” The boy studied the ground as if answers to the secrets of life were inscribed there.

“Let me ask you a question. Forget for a minute that she has that birthmark. If you think over everything you know about your Aunt Callie firsthand—the things you yourself have seen her do or heard her say—what would you think about her?”

Simon shrugged.

Jack tried again. “It's simple. Just decide whether your life would be better or worse if she'd never showed up in Sweetgum.” He waited, letting the silence draw out.

“Worse, I guess,” Simon finally answered.

Jack wanted to clap the boy on the back for taking that small step, but he maintained his solemn demeanor. “So why should a mark on her face, something that's nothing more than a discolored patch of skin, make any difference in how you think about her?” He picked the saw back up. “You don't have to answer me, just ponder on that a bit.”

Jack watched from the corner of his eye as Simon squirmed uncomfortably. He waited until the boy looked at him again and then held his gaze with unblinking firmness. “And I hope if ever anyone
does
say something mean-spirited about your aunt in your presence, you'll have the gumption to do the right thing.”

Jack watched Simon walk away, hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders slumped as if weighted down. He certainly hoped he'd gotten through to the boy.

Strange. He wasn't certain exactly when it had happened, but discussing Callie's looks with Simon just now made him realize that he truly
did
think of her as beautiful, and not just on the inside. Her appearance was dearer to him than he would ever have believed possible.

He cherished those moments with her on the front porch
in the evenings, moments when she unveiled, both literally and figuratively, and was totally herself and totally at ease with him. Whether she realized it or not, that trust was a precious gift, one he'd come to value dearly.

And one he was very much afraid he was going to miss keenly when he left.

J
ack lightly buffed the back of the carved horse with a piece of sandpaper, then rubbed a thumb over the spot. The toy horse was taking shape nicely, if he did say so himself. Annabeth's birthday was in a few weeks and he could almost picture the smile on her face when she unwrapped the package to find this inside.

Too bad he wouldn't be here to see it.

He pushed aside the twinge of regret.

One had to make sacrifices to pursue one's dreams. After all, he had to remember that he'd actually be getting the best of both worlds. He could go off and experience the freedom of his former life, and he could come back here three or four times a year to enjoy a taste of hearth and home.

Yep. What more could a self-made, independence-loving man ask for?

Still, he was strangely reluctant to tell Callie that he had almost finished with the house in town.

When had he become so comfortable with the idea of being part of this family?

Jack swatted at a june bug.

Ridiculous thought. As long as he stayed here he would never be anything more than Lanny's little brother. And he couldn't go back to that again—he'd worked too hard to establish himself as an expert in his field, someone to be looked up to.

No, the first of August was around the corner and he'd managed to accomplish what he'd set out to do. He'd settled his debt to his family and saw that the kids were well cared for. He'd even provided a fallback plan for Callie, just in case she was overwhelmed by managing the farm.

Better yet, things had settled down considerably over the past few weeks. Simon had lost that chip on his shoulder and was turning into a hard worker, Emma smiled much more these days, and Callie—well, Callie was pulling the whole lot of them together into a true family.

So there really was nothing left to keep him here.

His thoughts turned to Callie—smiling approval at something one of them had done, sitting on the swing reading to the children, humming while she worked at the stove.

The sweet way she'd looked at him when he'd kissed her at the stream—

Stop it!
Jack took a deep breath and deliberately turned his focus back to the wooden toy in his hands. He scrubbed the sandpaper across the horse's neck, smoothing away a rough spot, sweetening the curve.

What if Callie asked him to stay? What if she didn't feel ready to handle the farm and the children on her own yet? He couldn't blame her for that, and he definitely couldn't just leave her in the lurch if she felt she needed him. In fact, he'd be honor bound to stay.

He blew away the sawdust. Far be it from him to shirk his duty.

And what if, unlike everyone else, she saw him as more than a poor imitation of the man Lanny had been?

Did
she
ever think about that kiss they'd shared?

The sound of the screen door opening brought his thoughts back to the present.

“I didn't think I'd ever get them settled down tonight.”

He heard the smile in her voice.

She sat on the bench, grasping the edges of the seat with her hands and leaning forward as she faced him. “They're having so much fun with the tree house, now that it's finished. Not that you'd think it was complete to hear them talk. They're already thinking of ways to make it even better.” She gave a soft laugh. “I told them to give it a few weeks before they start hammering away again.”

He likely wouldn't be here to see that, either.

“Speaking of finished,” he paused, eyeing the length of one of the horse's legs, “we'll be ready for those curtains you're working on by the end of the week.”

“Oh.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but other than that showed no emotion. “You're ready to wrap up your work in Sweetgum, then.”

“Yep. Just some painting and a few other finishing touches left to go.”

“So, you'll be leaving us soon.”

Her voice was flat, her tone even. What emotion was she trying to hide? Regret? Relief?

“Unless you need me to stay longer.” He hoped that came out matter-of-factly.

But she gave an emphatic shake of the head. “I can't ask that of you. It wouldn't be fair.” She stood and gripped the porch rail, staring out over the darkened yard. “Besides, the children and I need to learn to make it on our own eventually. More time won't make that any easier.”

She turned her gaze upward, studying the stars. “No, we made a bargain and I intend to stand by it. Ida Lee told me
her oldest boy Jonah would be glad to earn some extra money helping out once a week after you leave. We'll be fine.”

It appeared she had everything worked out. Didn't sound like he'd even be missed.

“Don't worry,” she continued with a half-grin. “The farm will still be standing when you come back at Christmas.”

Christmas seemed a long time away.

“How soon will you be leaving us?”

“I'll stay long enough to get the furnishings installed, and make sure we have a tenant for the apartment or the storefront, or both.” He pulled out his pocketknife to add more detail to the mane. “I've already got a few feelers out to folks who might be interested in renting the place.”

“Another week or two, then.”

“More or less.”

If she felt any regret, she was certainly doing a good job hiding it.

He felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. So much for thinking she might ask him to stay.

 

Callie pulled the brush through her hair, fighting the urge to cry. It had been so hard this evening to pretend she was okay with his leaving, to not break down and beg him to stay.

Only her pride had saved her.

It would have been absolutely humiliating to have him look at her with pity, if not outright horror, when he found out how she truly felt. Admitting her feelings would only distance him from her, not draw him closer.

She had to keep reminding herself that the friendship that had grown up between them was just that—friendship. He'd made it quite clear from the outset that he didn't want to be tied down to either the farm or her.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Foolish, foolish
girl. You knew this time would come, that Jack wouldn't stay here forever. How could you have let your guard down so completely?

She'd played a dangerous game with her heart, pretending that, given enough time, Jack would begin to feel for her what she'd already begun to feel for him.

She should have known better.

Sure, he was more accepting of her disfigurement than other folks. But that didn't mean he could actually develop tender feelings for her.

She should be grateful for the time she'd had and for the fact that they'd become such good friends despite their rocky start. But, heaven help her, she was selfish. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

She wanted what she knew she would never have, should never have allowed herself to hope for.

Hadn't her father and sisters warned her that she should focus on making herself useful, that looking for something more in a relationship would doom her to disappointment?

Why hadn't she remembered that lesson when it counted?

She supposed it was Jack's unique brand of kindness and his hard-won friendship, something she'd never experienced with a man before, that had lulled her into thinking he might stay. And to be fair, he'd certainly stayed in Sweetgum longer than they'd originally planned. But it had just been to make certain everything was in order before he left, not because his feelings for her had changed.

She realized that now.

Callie set the brush down, crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin before she lost the battle with her self-control and the tears started flowing.

 

“We have our first tenant.” Jack stepped into the kitchen the next afternoon and plucked a carrot from the bowl on the
counter, feeling mighty pleased with himself. With a little help from Mrs. Mayweather, he'd set a plan in motion today that would be his parting gift to Callie, if it didn't backfire on him.

Callie looked up from the stove. “Tenant?”

She wore a starched apron over her dress with a couple of wildflowers pinned to her bodice, and her face was flushed from the heat of the stove. She was the very picture of domesticity, of the heart and glue of a home-sweet-home.

If only he could talk her into taking that silly bonnet off when they were in the house. If only he'd had more time to try to get through her skewed thinking.

Maybe, after tomorrow…

He realized she was still staring at him. “Ben Cooper wants to lease the building in town to use as a photography studio and business office,” he explained.

A puzzled wrinkle appeared above her nose. “The undertaker?”

“Yep. Apparently he's done a little bit of that kind of work for funerals already. Says he wants to start capturing some happier occasions, too.”

“Oh, that is good news.” She set the spoon down and wiped her hands on the apron. “That was a very clever idea of yours, to build a storefront area within the building, I mean.”

He grinned. “Not so clever. I just borrowed the idea from what had been there before.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed one booted foot over the other. “I also thought, since Ben is looking to get the word out about his new enterprise, that it might be a good idea to have a family photograph taken before I left.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, let's do. It'll give the children something to remind them of you while you're away.”

And I'll have something of you all to take with me as well
.

“I'm glad you agree. Especially since I already told him we'd be there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.”

Her hands fisted on her hips, and her brow furrowed. “That was mighty presumptuous of you, sir.” The sweet quirk of her lips, however, spoiled the mock stern expression she'd obviously been going for.

He only hoped she was still smiling when she learned of the other surprise he had in store for her.