The Hand-Me-Down Family

Emma beamed at the compliment. “Uh-huh. And I had a bird, too. Mr. Peepers. But he…” Her lower lip began to tremble.

Callie caught the panicked look on Jack’s face and quickly stepped in. “Emma, would you please bring me the empty platter from the stove?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jack gave her a small nod and she felt a warm glow at this ever-so-slight sign of gratitude. Maybe he was finally beginning to see how she could help with the children. Perhaps they could work this whole matter out amicably after all.

A few moments later he carried his dishes to the sink. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he turned back to the children. “I plan to head back out to the farm to take care of some chores. Why don’t you all come with me? Annabeth, you can visit with your animals. And Emma and Simon, you can take Cookie along and let him run as far and as long as he wants to.”

Callie stiffened, the glow quickly evaporating. Was he actually planning to take the children and not her?

Annabeth clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes! Do you think Mrs. Mayweather will let me bring some of her sugar cubes for Cinnamon?”

“We’ll ask her,” Jack answered. “But I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

“And Aunt Callie can come, too, can’t she?”

Bless Annabeth’s innocent little heart.

Jack cut her a quick glance, that stiff formality firmly back in place. “Yes, of course. That is, if she wants to?”

Was it her imagination, or did it sound as if he’d rather she declined the invitation?

She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly. “I need to make a stop at the telegraph office first, but I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”

Chapter Eight

“Here we are.”

Callie breathed a small sigh of relief, glad that she would finally be able to escape the confines of the buggy. The only men she’d been in such close proximity to before were her father and her sisters’ husbands. Jack was a different sort of man altogether, and she wasn’t exactly certain how to talk to him.

Not that he’d seemed to want to talk. The only conversation during the entire carriage ride had been among and with the children. The two adults had barely said three words to each other.

She certainly hoped the children hadn’t picked up on the tension between her and Jack. They had enough to deal with at the moment without this added burden.

She leaned forward as Jack brought the carriage to a stop, forgetting her discomfort in her eagerness to view the homeplace Julia had written about in such loving detail over the years. The house, fronted by rosebushes and shaded on the left by a venerable oak, was as charming as she’d imagined it to be. An oversized swing hung from one end of the roomy front porch, and Callie could picture Julia sitting there with Annabeth beside her, reading stories or doing a bit of needlework.

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