Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (4 page)

Almighty God, please let this dear woman live. She's doing Your work here and it doesn't seem right to not let her finish it, especially now when she is in reach of her dream of giving these kids a new and better life. They need her—they have nowhere else to go, no one else to look out for them.

And I certainly didn't sign on to become their full-time guardian. You, who know all things, know that I wouldn't be the kind of caretaker they need—they need a mother's touch.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, remembering his own mother, aching a little that she'd been taken from him so young. Uncle Corbitt's housekeeper had been a poor substitute. He didn't intend to let that happen to these children.

Exactly two hours from the time he'd left the church, Simon led a parade of children to the front gate of Mrs. Pierce's home. He was doing his best to keep up a cheerful facade, trying to paint this as an adventure, a temporary stopover on their journey to their new home, rather than a tragedy.

They'd just come from the sweet shop, which was located in the same space as a toy store, so the children had been chattering happily when they set out. But now they had quieted, and he sensed nervousness and some anxiety in the group.

Understandable. He'd tried to give them a hopeful report on Miss Fredrick's condition, but he hadn't wanted to lie, so he was sure the older ones, at least, had read between the lines. And now they were approaching a strange place, owned by a person they'd never met, to reside there for an unspecified amount of time. It would be a nerve-racking situation for many adults to walk into—how much more so for children?

“It's a castle.” Molly's eyes were wide as she stared at Mrs. Pierce's home. “Just like in a fairy tale. Does a queen live here?”

Simon smiled down at her. “Not a queen, but a couple of very nice ladies.”

Molly stuck her thumb back in her mouth, appearing unconvinced.

With a mental sigh, Simon climbed the wide stone steps onto the porch and twisted the ornate brass doorbell. The ring echoed from inside the house. Then the silence stretched out for what seemed forever. Behind him the children shuffled restlessly. And he had a sudden stab of fear that Mrs. Pierce might have changed her mind. After all, it had been obvious she wasn't thrilled with the idea of housing them.

He was just contemplating whether or not to give the bell another twist, when the door finally opened.

Chapter Four

S
imon was almost embarrassed by the wave of relief that flooded through him. He hoped he did a good job of hiding it. Then he saw who'd opened the door and had to hide his reaction all over again.

Why was Mrs. Pierce answering her own door? Didn't she have a housekeeper? Surely the elegant widow didn't care for this huge house herself? Perhaps her servant was otherwise occupied at the moment.

Mrs. Pierce stepped aside to let them enter. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting. Miss Jacobs and I were just finishing preparing the rooms for you.”

Again, no mention of a servant. It was beginning to look as if there truly were no servants after all. If that was true, then he was doubly in her debt for agreeing to take them in. And it made him rethink a few things about her, as well.

As he ushered his charges inside, Miss Jacobs bustled down the hall toward them. “Hello, Mr. Tucker. And here are the children. Welcome, welcome. I've been looking forward to meeting you ever since I heard you were coming.”

Simon wondered how two such different women could get along under the same roof. Miss Jacobs seemed as approachable as Mrs. Pierce was aloof.

As the last of the children entered, he stepped forward to make the introductions. “Kids, this is Mrs. Pierce, the nice lady who has opened her home to us. And this is her friend, Miss Jacobs, who also lives here.”

They all nodded and there were a few mumbled hellos. Simon quickly went down the line, introducing the children one by one.

When he was done, Mrs. Pierce gave them a reserved smile. “I'm pleased to meet you all. Welcome to my home.”

“Are you a queen?” Molly asked.

To give her credit, their hostess didn't so much as bat an eyelash. “No, I'm not,” was her only response.

Joey, apparently emboldened by Molly's question, turned to Miss Jacobs. “Why are you so short?” he asked.

“Joey!” Simon was caught off guard by the boy's artlessly uttered and much-too-personal question. Would Miss Jacobs be insulted?

But the woman merely smiled at the young boy. “I reckon God made me this way because He knew how much I love being around young'uns. It makes me feel closer to kids than to grown-ups.”

Miss Jacobs shifted her gaze to include all the children in her next comment. “And I'd be right grateful if you children would call me Nana Dovie while you're here. It's what my own daughter calls me.”

Yep, these were definitely two very different women.

Joey wasn't done with his questions, though. He turned to Mrs. Pierce. “Do you have a dog?”

This time the widow frowned slightly. “I do not.” There was definitely a tone of “and I don't want one” in her voice. And there was also no offer to let the kids call her by an endearing name.

“When we get to Hatcherville,” the boy said proudly, “Gee-Gee says I can get a dog.”

“Gee-Gee?” Mrs. Pierce cast him a questioning glance.

“It's what the children call Miss Fredrick,” Simon explained. “Her first name is Georgina.”

Mrs. Pierce nodded, then turned to Joey. “I'm sure that will be very nice.” Then she turned back to Simon. “The rooms are ready for you and your charges. I hope the children won't mind doubling up.”

“They're used to sharing,” Simon assured her. “Their former home wasn't nearly as grand as this one and they had much tighter sleeping arrangements.” He'd seen their bedrooms, crowded with bunk beds like a cramped dormitory. It was one of the reasons Miss Fredrick planned this move. “Do you have a specific way you'd like to assign the rooms or are you leaving it up to us?”

“I have put you and the boys in three rooms on the third floor,” the widow responded. “The girls will be in three rooms on the second floor with me and Miss Jacobs.”

He nodded. “An excellent arrangement. If you'll show us the way, we'll get everyone settled in.” He paused. “By the way, I asked the young man over at the train depot to have our bags delivered here so they should be arriving soon.” Most of the kids' belongings, along with all the household items, had been sent on ahead to Hatcherville, but luckily Miss Fredrick had seen that they each had a change of clothing packed for the trip. At least clothing wouldn't be a problem for the next few days.

He wished the same were true about everything else to do with this setback.

* * *

Eileen led the way up the stairs, trying her best to remain composed. Seeing all those children up close was more than a little overwhelming. The questions the two youngest had asked had bordered on impertinence. They were little more than toddlers, of course, but her mother and instructors had always insisted one was never too young to learn good manners.

She certainly hoped Mr. Tucker had told the truth when he said they were well behaved. Of course, the conditional that he'd tagged on about their age hadn't inspired her with much confidence.

These visitors seemed impressed with her home, but they were about to see how starkly furnished their rooms were. What would they think? Of course, one could hardly expect children to be discriminating in such matters. But Mr. Tucker was a different matter. And she found his opinion did matter.

When they reached the second floor, she turned to Dovie. “Would you please help the girls get settled in while I show Mr. Tucker and the boys to the third floor?”

“Of course.” Dovie smiled at the girls. “I'll let you all decide how you want to pair up and then we'll pick out rooms for everyone.”

Eileen led the way up the stairs to the third floor. A part of her envied Dovie's easy manner with the children. It might not be dignified, but the children seemed better able to relate to her. Then she mentally took herself to task. As her mother had often drilled into her, Paylors
always
maintained their dignity and composure, no matter what.

As they stepped onto the landing she felt the need to apologize. “These rooms haven't seen any use in the past two years. Miss Jacobs and I aired them out but they may still be a bit musty.”

“I'm sure it'll be just fine.” Mr. Tucker looked around and she watched him closely for signs of judgment. To her relief, he seemed to see nothing amiss.

“Do you have a preference for who gets which room?” he asked.

Good—they were going to keep things businesslike. “The three on this end have been made ready—you may assign them however you wish.”

With a nod he turned to the boys. “Harry and Russ, you two take the far room. Albert, you and Joey can have the middle one. And I'll take the one nearest the stairs.”

The doorbell sounded and Mr. Tucker turned back to her with a smile. “That's probably our bags.” He waved to the two older boys. “Harry, Russell, come help me get everything carted upstairs.”

“We're coming, too,” the one he'd called Albert said.

“Yeah, we're coming, too,” Joey said with a great deal of bravado.

To Eileen's surprise, Mr. Tucker merely grinned at this bit of assertiveness. “All right, men, the more hands, the lighter the load I always say.”

By the time they made it to the first floor, Dovie had already opened the door to their caller. As Mr. Tucker had predicted, it was Lionel from the train depot.

As soon as Lionel saw Mr. Tucker over Dovie's shoulder he straightened. “I brought your things, Mr. Tucker, just like you asked. It's all on the wagon—I'll get it unloaded in a snap.” He reached into his pocket. “And I brought this telegram that came for you, too.”

Eileen stiffened slightly. Mr. Tucker was already getting telegrams here? It certainly hadn't taken him long to make himself at home.

She watched as he sent the four boys to help Lionel unload the cart, and then unfolded the piece of paper.

Whatever the news, he didn't appear to like it. Had he received more bad news on top of today's events?

* * *

Simon stared at the very terse telegram he'd received in response to the one he'd sent Miss Fredrick's brother.

KEEP ME APPRISED

W. FREDRICK

Apparently Wilbur Fredrick didn't intend to rush to his sister's bedside. Simon didn't understand that—he would have given anything to have had that opportunity with Imogene, to have been able to have a few last words with her before she passed on.

He refolded the paper and shoved it into his pocket. Perhaps this was his fault. Maybe he hadn't made it clear just how serious Miss Fredrick's condition was. Should he send another telegram?

He glanced up and caught Mrs. Pierce watching him, a hint of sympathy in her expression. But she immediately turned away, her demeanor once more aloof, and he wondered if he'd merely imagined it.

Lionel and the boys deposited the first load of baggage just then and went back for more. Before he could join them, the girls were trooping downstairs to investigate what was going on. So Simon pushed aside thoughts of Wilbur Fredrick, and Mrs. Pierce's show of concern, to ponder at a quieter time.

He joined the “menfolk” unloading the wagon and they managed to get the remaining items in one more load.

Once everything was deposited in the entry hall, he dismissed Lionel with a coin and his thanks. When he turned back, the children were already digging into the pile with noisy enthusiasm as well as a bit of good-natured shoving, each looking for their own items. Mrs. Pierce cringed and drew back into herself. Was it the noise level or the overall chaos that bothered her more?

Then she straightened. “Children, please.” Her voice, while not loud or strident, carried the ring of authority, and the children closest to her paused in their scrambling to look her way.

“Quiet, please.” This time her voice carried to the rest of the children, and everyone turned to stare at her in surprise.

“There is no need for this unruly behavior. You are all old enough to know how to conduct yourselves in a more orderly fashion.”

Simon frowned. This might be her home, but she couldn't expect the children to act like miniature versions of herself. “Mrs. Pierce, I believe what you are seeing is enthusiasm rather than unruly behavior.”

“One can be excited and show decorum at the same time.” She turned to the children. “Now, starting with the oldest and the youngest, step forward and find your things. Then take them up to your room.”

Fern stepped forward stiffly. “Yes, ma'am.” She held out a hand. “Come on, Molly, I'll help you find your things.”

To Simon's surprise, the children followed her instructions, and two by two, with one of the older children helping one of the younger ones, they each collected their things and headed up the stairs. There was no more horseplay and very little chatter, and the task was accomplished in short order.

Okay, so maybe her way was effective, but it certainly hadn't done anything to make the children feel more at ease here.

He glanced Miss Jacobs's way. She was observing in silence. Did she agree with Mrs. Pierce's approach? Or was she just hesitant to disagree with the woman who was, after all, her landlady?

When the last of the children had headed upstairs, Mrs. Pierce turned to him. Was that a glint of triumph peeking out from her serene expression?

“I realize this is your home,” he said before she could comment, “but I would appreciate it if you would give the children a bit of latitude. They've been through quite a bit.”

She appeared unmoved. “They have my sympathy, of course, and I understand they are anxious. But I believe maintaining discipline is for their good as well as that of those around them. It gives them a sense of order that can be a comfort when the rest of their world appears to be falling apart around them.”

Did she truly believe that? “They also need the chance to work off some of their pent-up energy.”

“Within the proper parameters.” Then she waved a hand. “Are these last few bags yours?”

He swallowed his response and accepted her change of subject. “That brown duffel is mine and the trunk contains my tools. The smaller trunk belongs to Miss Fredrick.” He furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “It seems pointless to cart the heavy tool trunk up two flights of stairs, especially since I'll need most of the tools down here if I'm going to do some work on your place while I'm here. Is there somewhere down here where I could store it?”

She hesitated a long moment—so long that he thought about withdrawing his request.

But then she drew her shoulders back and nodded. “Of course. Follow me.”

He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something in her demeanor made him wonder if there was more going through her mind than simply finding him some storage space.

Without a word, she led him down the hall and around a corner. They went down another shorter hallway until she finally stopped in front of a closed door. Taking a deep breath, she threw the door open and indicated he should precede her inside.

He stepped into a darkened room that, from the musty smell, hadn't seen use in some time. It had a definite masculine feel to it and was dominated by a massive desk.

She crossed the room and pulled open the curtains, letting in some much-needed light. It was only then that he noticed that the
only
piece of furniture in the room was that desk, which he could now see was finely crafted and graced with some fine parquetry work.

The walls were bare, although there were indications that several large paintings had hung in here at one time. The built-in bookcases that flanked the fireplace were also empty. And there was a thin layer of dust over everything. But the paneling and richly carved woodwork spoke of bygone elegance.

“This was my husband's study,” she said, “but as you can see, it is no longer in use.” She folded her hands lightly in front of her, and he thought he detected a slight tremble, though it might have been only his imagination. “You may store your things in here for as long as you are in residence.”