Blowing on Dandelions (9 page)

“Are you going to stay mad at Mr. Jacobs?”

“I reckon not. Unless he gets cantankerous or his pride flares up again. Then I might.” She grinned and Lucy giggled, then sobered.

“It was real nice of you to offer to let them stay. I feel bad they lost their home and the livery.” Her stomach lurched. After losing Pa, the most important things in her life were her home, mother, and little sister. Losing any of them would tear her heart out. No wonder Mr. Jacobs was cranky. “He was awful nice to Zachary when he came back. I was worried he might shout at him for being gone so long, but he only hugged him. I thought for a minute he was going to cry.”

Her mother didn’t speak, only gripped her hand a bit harder. Lucy knew what that meant. Ma wanted some time to think and not talk, which was all right with her. She had a lot to think about herself. Part of her wanted to shout for joy that Zachary was coming to stay at their house, but the other part was a little concerned.

Grandma hadn’t seemed to like Mr. Jacobs very well, and before tonight, Mr. Jacobs had been really nice to Ma. What if Grandma was mean to him? She frowned and almost pulled her hand away but knew Ma would question her if she did. Scuffing her toe against the dirt as she walked, Lucy stared off into the night.

They had enough upset at their house as it was, ever since Grandma had come. What if Mr. Jacobs went back to being really nice and Ma started to like him too much? It wasn’t that Mr. Jacobs wasn’t a decent man from what she could tell, but he was
Zachary’s
pa—she didn’t want him for hers.

Chapter Twelve

Home never looked so good, but Katherine couldn’t go to bed yet. She opened her front door as the clock on the mantle chimed midnight, and Lucy yawned. Patting her daughter’s back, Katherine smiled. “You’d best go right up to bed, sweetie. Morning’s coming all too soon.”

“Yes, Ma. Are you coming?” Lucy placed her hand on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

“Soon. I’ll see if Grandma is in bed or waiting up. I need to thank her for staying with Amanda.”

“All right. Good night.”

“’Night, honey.” As she watched her elder daughter climb the staircase, she couldn’t thank God enough that she and Lucy had such a wonderful relationship, quite unlike hers and her mother’s. But Katherine had worked hard to keep the doors of communication open with Lucy and bathe her actions in love—not something she’d experienced from her own mother while growing up.

Katherine simply absorbed the quiet for a minute. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to release all the worry, fear, and irritation that had assailed her this night. So much had happened since leaving only an hour or two ago. Micah Jacobs’s home and business had burned to the ground, and she’d invited him and his son to live here. Of course, she did run a boardinghouse, so it wasn’t as though she’d done anything immoral, but tongues might still wag. It didn’t appear that the man truly appreciated what she’d done, either. If she could do it over again, she was certain she’d make a different choice.

A sudden image of the pain she’d seen reflected in Micah’s eyes drew her up short. How could she deny someone who’d lost so much and had no place to go? She couldn’t and regretting the offer wouldn’t accomplish anything.

What would Mama think?

Not that it was Mama’s business.

After all, Katherine
was
a grown woman who could manage her own affairs, wasn’t she?

Katherine brushed a loose curl from her forehead and headed toward the kitchen. Weariness settled in. It was past time for bed, but she’d promised Micah and Zachary a room. Thankfully she had clean bedding in the downstairs room already and didn’t need to do much but fill the water pitcher and turn down the covers. Surely Mama had gone upstairs after tucking Amanda in, but she’d best check.

She stepped through the doorway of the dining room and peered into the kitchen. The light was dim and nothing stirred—only shadows danced on the walls.

A chair scraped across the floor. “Katherine? I did not hear you come in. Are you and Lucy all right?” Mama rose from the far end of the table where she’d been sitting in the deepest shadow.

Katherine pivoted, placing her hand over her rapidly beating heart. “You gave me a start. I thought you’d gone to bed long ago.”

A strange look flitted across the older woman’s face, then quickly disappeared. “You have been away longer than I expected. I was not able to sleep.”

Irritation? Or worry? But why would Mama be troubled about her and Lucy? They hadn’t been in danger. Besides, her mother rarely showed emotions that indicated she cared. On the other hand, Lucy was her granddaughter, and she may have been anxious for her sake.

“I’m sorry if we worried you.”

“Nonsense.” Frances drew herself to her full height and frowned. “I simply could not sleep with all the commotion in town and you out wandering the streets. What happened? Why did they ring the bell?”

“You remember Mr. Jacobs and his son, Zachary, who came to dinner a few nights ago?”

“Of course. I am not in my dotage, Katherine. What do they have to do with anything?” Mama scowled.

Katherine motioned toward the table. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No. Tell me what happened and I will go to bed.”

“The livery burned down.”

Mama placed her fingers over her mouth. “They didn’t die, did they? How awful.”

Katherine’s heart twisted at her mother’s expression. She shouldn’t have been so blunt. She should’ve started by telling her no one was hurt. Why didn’t she think before she spoke? It was one of the many things Mama had chastised her for over the years. “No, I’m sorry. They’re both safe, but their home was above the livery, and they lost everything. Mr. Jacobs may have sustained a broken leg.”

A man’s voice halting a team of horses sounded outside the window.

“I didn’t expect them so soon.” Katherine ran to the window and peered out. “I invited Mr. Jacobs and his son to stay in an empty room. What was I thinking standing here talking?”

Her mother harrumphed. “That is exactly what I would like to know. What
were
you thinking asking that man and his son to stay? If he has lost his business and home, it is likely he will not be able to pay. You cannot run a charity and hope to feed your family, Katherine. I always said you were too impulsive, and now you have proven it again.” She strode toward the hallway without looking back.

Katherine balled her hands into fists, wanting to scream. Should she go after her mother and try to explain? It wouldn’t make a difference, as Mama wouldn’t listen anyway.

Instead, she uncoiled her fingers and pasted what she hoped would pass as a smile on her tired face. Time to greet her new boarders and get them to bed before the rooster crowed his early morning song.

How did life get so complicated? First Mama arrived, and now Katherine had to contend with a pride-filled man. Two people with prickly skin living under her roof, and from what she observed when Micah and Zachary came for supper, Mama wasn’t cheerfully disposed toward the Jacobs.
Please, God, let things calm down and not get worse.

Then a precious memory of the tender moment she had shared with Lucy surfaced. At least she didn’t have to worry about her daughter now that she’d made it clear Zachary was not allowed to court her. Or had she? Katherine tried to remember. She’d planned on talking to Micah about his son. It had never happened.

A knock sounded on her door. Katherine’s heart sank. She’d invited that young man to live here without setting any boundaries concerning her daughter.

Chapter Thirteen

Micah eased himself up off the pillow and groaned. His ankle throbbed, and mush seemed to have replaced his brains. He sucked in a lung-full of air, and pain shot through his chest, ending in a hard cough. He fought to regain his breath.

Once his breathing returned to normal, he glanced around the room. Bright morning sunlight streamed between gauzy white curtains that flanked a window near the foot of his bed. This didn’t look like his room. He caught a faint whiff of lavender and smiled—it didn’t smell like his room either.

Memories trickled in as he admired the flowers artfully arranged in a vase on the tall oak bureau on the far side of the window. He’d injured his ankle when a beam fell on him during the fire.

Fire?
Micah fell back against the pillow. His home and business had burned last night and Zachary …

He sat up so fast a wave of dizziness nearly pitched him to the floor. Why couldn’t he remember if Zachary was safe? Panic rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. He grabbed the blanket covering his body and tossed it aside. “Zachary? Where are you?”

Feet padded on the hardwood floor outside his room, and the door flew open. A blond vision with pink cheeks and swirling skirts swept into the room. Katherine Galloway halted, regarding him with wide eyes. “Mr. Jacobs, I heard you call. Are you all right?”

A twinge of embarrassment tugged at Micah as he drew the sheet to his chin. He licked his dry lips. “Where’s my son? Is Zachary all right?”

Katherine’s posture relaxed. “He’s fine. I put him to bed in another room, as you were tossing and turning, and I didn’t think he’d sleep.” She smoothed a wayward lock off her forehead. “I believe he’s still sleeping. Zachary was very worried about your injury and convinced he was somehow to blame.”

Micah struggled to recall something outside of his grasp. “How did the fire start?”

Katherine’s brows rose. “You don’t know? Everyone’s been asking the same thing, wondering what happened. We were all waiting for you to wake this morning, hoping you could tell us.”

Beads of perspiration formed on Micah’s forehead. “No. I remember turning out the horses and the beam falling.” He narrowed his eyes and concentrated. “I was worried Zachary might have gone back inside—ah, yes. He found me after the pastor got me out.” Another memory surged to the fore, and he stiffened. “You told me I could stay here and …” He hesitated. “I’m afraid I didn’t show any appreciation for your kind offer. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her expression softened. “There’s nothing to forgive. I may have been a bit … prickly … last night. Fear has that effect on me, I’m afraid.” She backed toward the door, her slender fingers wrapping around the knob. “I’ll leave you alone now, and let you rest awhile longer. If you’d like, I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast soon.”

Micah pushed himself a few inches off the mattress and winced. “I need to get up and see what’s left of my home and business.”

Frances Cooper stepped up beside Katherine, a glower puckering her wrinkles. “You will do no such thing, young man. Not if you hope to get well enough to provide for yourself again.”

“Mama, please!” Katherine gaped at her mother, and a wave of crimson stained her cheeks. “Mr. Jacobs has no need to rush back to work.” She placed a gentle hand on her mother’s arm. “Come, let’s get breakfast started. I agree that our guest needs to rest. Please, Mr. Jacobs, don’t try to get up until after the doctor has seen you.”

Conflicting emotions swirled through Micah. How could a mother and daughter be such complete opposites in temperament and behavior? Katherine Galloway resembled her mother in coloring and bone structure, but that was where the similarity ended, from what he could tell during the little he’d been around them. One was abrasive and appeared to delight in dishing out her opinion and remarks with a free hand, caring little who heard or how the remarks might affect the listener. Her daughter, while certainly not a doormat—as evidenced by her prickly attitude the evening before—maintained an air of genuine caring. “All right. I’ll stay here for now, but I’d appreciate you sending Zachary in as soon as he wakes.”

“Certainly.” A smile flitted so quickly across Katherine’s face that Micah wasn’t certain he’d seen it. “Come along, Mama. I could use your help in the kitchen.”

Frances allowed herself to be led away, but her voice drifted back clearly. “You have not wanted my assistance before. Of course, I am happy to help, as I know you have a hard time keeping up. In fact, I have a plan that I am certain will please you.”

Micah strained to hear more but the voices dimmed as the footsteps receded in the distance. Somehow he couldn’t imagine much that woman shared would bring pleasure to anyone around her.

Katherine kept her back ramrod straight as she walked in front of her mother toward the kitchen. Knowing Mama, if she let her discouragement show through bowed shoulders she’d hear about it in not-so-subtle words. Her chin jerked up at another thought.
Why
should she be discouraged? After all the little comments her mother dropped, she should be irritated, not depressed. In fact, she
was
irritated—and frustrated and tired, all rolled into one tangled ball.

A plan that would please her, indeed. And since when did she have a hard time keeping up where her home or children or business were concerned? Well, there was no help for it. Mama would say what she wanted to say, whether Katherine cared to listen or not. She’d been taught since her earliest memory to respect her elders and never talk back. That had always been the way of things and probably would be until the day she breathed her last.

Stepping across the threshold into the spacious kitchen, Katherine reached for her apron, which hung from the corner of the cupboard where she’d tossed it not long ago. She removed a sturdy bowl from the tall corner cabinet and placed it on the painted countertop, then slid out a drawer to remove a tin of flour.

“What do you want me to do, Katherine?” Mama cast a glance around the room.

Katherine sent a swift prayer heavenward in hopes the subject that would please her had somehow been forgotten. How blessed it would be spend an hour with Mama without some type of rebuke or criticism. “Maybe you could crack and whip a dozen eggs for me. I’m making biscuits and gravy, and we’ll have scrambled eggs on the side.”

“Only a dozen? You are feeding eight people this morning, what with that man and his son you have taken in, as well as your own family, Mr. Tucker, and that traveling salesman who stopped in last night.”

“We have another boarder? When did he arrive?” Katherine’s hands paused in kneading the dough.

“Late last night while you were gone. In all the excitement I forgot to mention it. I gave him one of the rooms on the second floor. He is leaving after breakfast.” Frances plucked the wire basket of eggs from the back corner of the cabinet and set them carefully on the counter. “You need more rooms, more sheets, and new towels. You have this great big kitchen and a dining room that is only occasionally full. How do you expect to hold onto this house if you don’t make enough money?”

“I’m doing fine, Mama. The towels are only two years old, and the sheets are holding up all right. As for new rooms, adding on costs too much. Besides, we’re not full every night, so I don’t see it as an issue.”

Frances cracked an egg on the edge of the stoneware bowl she’d set in front of her and tossed the shell into the nearby box of scraps.

Katherine grimaced but decided to hold her tongue. Telling Mama that the refuse bin was only for food scraps would ruffle her feathers. Better to pluck them out later when she wasn’t looking.

“I told you I have a plan. Don’t you want to know what it is?” Another shell landed in the box, and Frances grabbed a fork and commenced beating the eggs.

“Certainly.” Then Katherine pinched her mouth shut to keep everything else she wanted to say from spilling out.

“You do not sound terribly interested.”

“I’m sorry. I suppose I’m a little distracted with all that’s happened. Please, tell me.”

Frances set down the fork. “I have some money set aside. I am going to invest in your business and help you run this place. I am sure with my help it will prosper beyond what you could accomplish yourself.”

Katherine struggled to comprehend her mother’s words. Invest and help run the boardinghouse? Take over all decision-making was more like it. From her mama’s expectant expression Katherine could tell she expected the news to be greeted with joy and approval. She gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t it be enough that she’d given her mother a home? Why did she have to swoop in and try to take control of every part of her life? The next thing she knew, Mama would be disciplining her children and giving orders to the guests.

No. This had to stop somewhere. But how to tell Mama when she obviously thought she was doing Katherine a favor? The problem was, Mama’s favors always came with a price.

Frances’s smile faded as the silence stretched and her daughter made no move to break it. What was wrong with the girl? Didn’t Katherine understand what a generous offer she’d made? You certainly wouldn’t think so based on the set of her shoulders or the grim look on her face. “Aren’t you going to say something? I would think you could at least thank me for taking an interest in your boardinghouse and wanting to see to your needs, not to mention my granddaughters’.”

Katherine dipped her head and dusted her flour-coated hands on her apron. “Yes, of course. Thank you for your”—a fraction of a second passed—“kind offer.”

Frances tried her hardest to give a winning smile. “So you accept? We will make your business a success together.”

“I’m afraid not, Mama. I’m not ready to expand yet, and when I do, I’d like to manage it on my own. This boardinghouse was Daniel’s dream, and I want to honor his memory in how I conduct my business.”

“And you think it would
dishonor
his memory to have me involved—is that what you are saying?” Pain ripped at her heart at her daughter’s reply. Katherine never appreciated her efforts to help.

Of course she would do things the way Daniel had wanted—within reason, of course. She had loved her son-in-law dearly. As far as she was concerned, marrying him was the only truly sensible thing Katherine had done in her life. Well, besides giving birth to Lucy and Amanda, but that was as much Daniel’s doing as Katherine’s.

Katherine reached out a hand, but Frances took a step back. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Maybe we can talk about this another time when I’m not so distracted.”

“So you can turn me down again, you mean?” Frances wanted to bite her tongue at the confusion and hurt reflected on her daughter’s face, but she dared not retract her words. Katherine needed to think before she made such rash remarks and coddling her would not help that to happen.

Katherine’s expression turned cold. “If that’s what you think, Mama, we’ll not talk about it again.”

“Grandma?” Amanda skipped into the room and came to a halt at the end of the cupboard. “What are you fixing for breakfast? I’m awful hungry.”

Frances drew the little girl into her arms, struggling to push back the ache in her throat and praying her words would come out sounding normal. “Scrambled eggs, and they will be ready soon. Go wash your hands.” She gave her a little push, but the child didn’t budge. “Hurry up. There’s to be no dawdling, Amanda.” She’d spoken more sharply than she’d planned. She hated the idea of hurting Amanda. Drawing in a deep breath, she nudged the child toward the sink again.

Katherine took a step toward her, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Just because you’re upset with me is no reason to be short with Mandy. Please don’t treat her the way you did me growing up. You’ll break her heart.”

Frances recoiled as though she had been slapped. Treat Amanda the way she had treated Katherine as a child? Whatever was the girl talking about? Coddling was not her way, but she had always loved her children, even if she didn’t simper over them like some women she’d known. “I have done nothing wrong, and I will not have you correcting me.” A tiny stab of guilt shot through her heart at the untruth of her words, but she could not take them back—would not take them back. Straightening her shoulders, she faced her daughter. “I am your mother, not your child, and I deserve your respect, if not your love.” She took off her apron and tossed it on the counter. “I do not seem to be hungry. I believe I will go to my room to lie down for a bit.”