Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (6 page)

Eileen was amazed. Dovie had managed to capture their attention with very little effort. And with such a simple device.

“It looks like she's in her element, doesn't it?”

Eileen turned to find Mr. Tucker at her side, his gaze on Dovie and the children.

“Very much so,” she agreed.

He turned to her. “If you don't mind, perhaps we can step into the hall to talk for a moment?”

“Of course.” What did he want to discuss? Had she done something he didn't approve of?

“I want you to know that I meant what I said about taking care of any maintenance or repair work that needs tending to while I'm here.”

Some of her tension eased as she settled back into her lady-of-the-manor role. “As it happens, there are a few things that could use some attention.”

“Good. If you'll let me know what you think are the most pressing tasks, I'll start figuring out how to best tackle them.”

Eileen didn't have to think about it. “The gutters require a good cleaning and there are a few loose rails on the back porch.”

He nodded. “That shouldn't be a problem. Is there anything else?”

Surprised he hadn't balked, even a little, she added another item to the list. “Since we'll need to do more cooking than usual and heat more wash water and more rooms, there's the matter of firewood.”

“Of course. I've split many a cord in my day.”

“You may need to gather the wood as well as split it.”

“Understood. Why don't you show me the porch rails you're concerned about now so I have a better idea of what's needed?”

Relieved that he didn't seem overly concerned by her requests, she nodded. “Of course. This way.”

As she led the way to the back of the house and out the kitchen door, she was very aware of him walking beside her. What was wrong with her today? She'd never let herself be distracted by such feelings before. Nor even admitted that she had them.

They stepped out onto the back porch, and she immediately put some distance between them. Moving to the far end of the porch, she pointed out the loose railings. “These three spindles and a couple of the ones lining the steps, as well.”

Mr. Tucker followed her and examined the rails in question more closely. “I'll need to replace at least one of these, maybe more, but it shouldn't be difficult to do. And I might as well check all the other spindles while I'm at it.”

It would be such a relief to have those things taken care of. Perhaps he could even get a little ahead on the firewood so she wouldn't have to buy so much when winter set in.

He stepped down onto the lawn and looked up at the roofline, rubbing his chin. “I have my own tools with me, of course. But I'm going to need a ladder for getting up to those gutters.” He glanced her way. “And an ax for chopping firewood.”

She waved a hand toward a structure at the far end of her property. “I believe you'll find what you need in the carriage house. Feel free to look around in there and make use of whatever you need.” The carriage had been one of the first things she'd sold off. The only thing she used the structure for these days was as a storage shed and a place to keep her gardening implements.

“I'll check it out first thing in the morning.” He took a long, slow look around her property. “I could get the boys to rake up these leaves for you, too, if you'd like.”

“That would be appreciated.” She was beginning to feel as if she were taking advantage of him. She hadn't expected him to work for his keep.

“Good. It'll give them something to focus on besides Miss Fredrick's situation.”

She wondered what he was really thinking about the state of her home and property. It had to be painfully obvious to him that she hadn't been able to take care of the place as she ought for some time now.

But his next comment indicated nothing of the sort. “It appears you have quite a garden,” he said.

She felt her cheeks warm in pleasure. “It's done well this year. There's not much left to it right now, but I should still be able to harvest a few things from my fall planting until first frost.”

“You take care of it yourself?”

Was that surprise in his expression? She tilted her chin up. “I do. Though Dovie helps.” Truth to tell, she actually enjoyed working her garden. What had been a pleasant hobby in the past had turned into a means of survival. Many was the day the only thing she ate for her meals was what she'd harvested from her garden. And she'd learned to preserve what she didn't need for her immediate sustenance so that she could stretch her bounty even further. It was surprising, the sense of accomplishment she felt at having vegetables she'd grown and harvested herself in her pantry.

He nodded. “Miss Jacobs seems like a fine person. And I can tell she knows how to deal with children.”

Unlike her—was that what he was thinking? And was he assuming Dovie did most of the gardening, as well?

She turned and moved back toward the door, feeling suddenly rattled by all these unaccustomed thoughts. Time to take control of the conversation again. “Speaking of the children, perhaps we can discuss what sort of routine they are accustomed to. And then determine what routine will work best while they are here.”

She felt better already. Routines and discipline, that was what provided order and structure, the two things that were essential to a smoothly run household. And it was becoming obvious to her that these children could benefit from some training in that department.

She had a feeling, though, that she and Mr. Tucker would not see eye to eye on that point.

If so, she would just have to bring him around to her way of thinking.

Chapter Seven

R
outine? Why was she asking him about that? Simon had no idea what sort of routine Miss Fredrick had set for them, or even if they had one at all. “I'm not sure I understand what exactly you're asking about—what sorts of routines?”

“I would think it would be self-explanatory. I'd like to know what they are accustomed to in the area of mealtimes, bedtimes, quiet times, bath times. What portion of their day is set aside for educational pursuits such as reading, sewing, nature studies, journaling? Are they accustomed to daily readings from the Good Book? That sort of thing.”

He didn't appreciate the condescending tone she'd used, but he was determined to remain civil. “Mrs. Pierce, perhaps I didn't explain my role clearly. I had no involvement in the kids' day-to-day lives prior to our boarding the train in St. Louis. I am merely the escort, charged with seeing them safely to Hatcherville and getting them securely installed in their new home. I have no idea what their normal routines are, only what we experienced during the trip, which I imagine was anything
but
normal.”

“I see. Then perhaps we shouldn't worry about what they did in the past and concentrate instead on what makes the most sense for now.”

“I agree.” Though he had some doubts that they would agree on just what
would
make sense.

By this time they'd stepped back inside the kitchen, and she waved a hand toward the table. “Shall we have a seat while we work it out?”

“You mean now?”

“Is there some reason we should wait?” Her expression reminded him of a severe schoolmarm who was dealing with a difficult student.

“I thought perhaps Miss Jacobs should be involved.” He tried to be diplomatic. “I mean, we've both admitted to not having experience dealing with children, and she obviously has. Don't you think she could be helpful?”

Mrs. Pierce took a seat, her expression set but her copper-colored eyes flashing like a bright new penny. Was she enjoying this?

She placed her clasped hands in her lap. “For the moment I think it is more important that she continue to keep the children entertained so we can discuss this without distractions.”

He tried again. “But if we don't have any point of reference to draw on—”

“Surely laying out routines and schedules has more to do with the adult's perspective than with the children's. And I am not so far removed from my own childhood that I don't remember the routines imposed on me at my boarding school.” She shifted slightly, as if she'd said more than she intended.

Boarding school. So she came from money, did she? That explained a lot.

Simon moved toward the table, deciding he might as well hear her out. He took a seat across from her. “All right. I'm willing to give it a shot. Where would you like to start?”

“The first thing I think we should decide is whether everyone should take their meals together or if we should eat in shifts.”

“Together,” he said immediately, before she could launch into a discussion of pros and cons. “I want to maintain the feeling of family for them as much as possible.”

Something flashed in her shiny-penny eyes that he couldn't quite identify, but it left him with the impression that he hadn't given her the answer she'd wanted. To do her credit, though, she nodded. “Very well, then we will need to add back the leaves to the dining room table and find three additional chairs.”

“No problem. There are four perfectly fine chairs right here—we can take three of them into the dining room. And if you'll show me where you keep the table leaves, I'll take care of that, as well.” Perhaps this routine-setting thing wouldn't be so bad, after all. “What's next?”

“Mealtimes. I would suggest breakfast at seven, the midday meal at noon and dinner at six, but I'm open to suggestions. However, I do feel that whatever schedule we decide on, we should make a point to adhere to it.”

“I'm sure, if that's the most convenient schedule for you, it will work fine for the children.”

“Good. Now let's move on to bedtimes. I believe it should be no later than eight.”

“For the younger ones, perhaps, but the older ones might find that restrictive.”

“I suppose, if they want to occupy themselves quietly in their rooms for the first hour then that would be acceptable.”

Was she worried about them being too much of a bother for her? But they would only be here for a few days, God willing, so he supposed he could go along with her on this. “All right. What else?”

They discussed bath times, responsibilities for keeping their rooms tidy, and the level of decorum she expected them to maintain in her home.

Simon tried to keep his thoughts to himself and go along with her plans. But he had to wonder—what kind of childhood had the woman had if she thought this was an appropriate routine for youngsters? If this was how she'd spent her time at her boarding school he'd say she would have been better served staying home. “So, are we done?” He hoped his tone didn't convey any of his disdain for her plans.

“Not yet. We need to discuss the amount of time we might want them to spend learning artistic and social skills.”

Enough was enough. “Mrs. Pierce, these are
children.
” He didn't bother to mask his irritation. “They also need time to just
be
children, to play.”

She remained unruffled. “Of course. But it is also important that they be trained while they are young so they may grow into adults who respect and value knowledge and refinement.”

“What did you have in mind?” Simon reminded himself once more that this was her home and that they wouldn't be here for long. But he would draw the line quickly enough if he saw her do anything that would make the kids feel as if they didn't measure up to some arbitrary standard she might have in mind. They'd already faced enough of that in their young lives.

And quite frankly, so had he.

“I would be willing to work with them on literature, art, music and etiquette.” She actually had a hint of a smile on her face, as if this was something she looked forward to. “In addition, I could work with the girls on their household skills, and perhaps you could work with the boys on whatever skills are particular to young men.”

“Mrs. Pierce, I don't—”

She held up a hand to interrupt his protest. “Of course I didn't mean to imply we would address all of these things at the same time.”

Thank goodness she recognized that much at least.

“Depending on the length of your stay,” she continued, “we might not get around to all of it. But we could assess what skills they already possess and what they might be most interested in learning, and work up a plan from there.” She gave him an “I'm right on this” look. “Because it is always good to have a plan worked out.”

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to insult her. “Mrs. Pierce, while I know you mean well, a governess is the last thing these children need right now.” Or maybe ever. “I think it'll be a better use of everyone's time if we just assign them their fair share of the household chores and leave it at that.”

There was the merest hint of disappointment in her expression but it disappeared quickly. “I disagree. But if that is how you feel, then of course that is what we must do.” The frostiness was back in her tone.

“Maybe when they get settled into their new home and begin to establish their own routines—” he figured she'd like his use of that word “—then that will be soon enough to worry about all that. But for now they just need some calm and as much normalcy as possible in their lives.”

She seemed somewhat mollified. “As I said, you are their caretaker so I will defer to your wishes. If you should change your mind, however, I stand ready to do my part.”

Her capitulation surprised him. Perhaps he'd read her wrong. “Thank you. And as I said, I'll expect them to do some chores around here.”

“Such as?”

“Well, in addition to keeping their rooms neat and tidy, the girls can help with the dishes, sweeping, dusting, laundry—whatever housekeeping chores need tending to while we're here. The boys can help me with some of the yard work and outdoor chores.”

“That seems reasonable.” She raised her chin. “I assume, however, if there is time in their schedules, and if it does not unduly tax them, you'd have no objection to my introducing them to a small taste of the finer arts?”

So she hadn't really given up. Perhaps it would be best if he just came out and said what he was feeling. “So long as you don't use such lessons to make them feel inferior, then I don't see any harm in it.”

She stiffened. “That would
never
be my intention, no matter what I was teaching them.”

Not her intention perhaps, but it could still be the result if she went about it the wrong way. “I'm glad to hear it. But let's go easy with them for the next day or two. And who knows, we may even be able to resume our travels and let you return to your normal routine by then.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly. “If you don't mind my asking, what is the true situation with Miss Fredrick?”

Simon raked his fingers through his hair. “Dr. Pratt says it's all in God's hands now.” He grimaced at his own words. “But that's always the case isn't it? Everything is in God's hands at all times.” He refused to give up hope.

“Have you given any thought to what you will do if she doesn't get better?”

The widow sure didn't shy away from difficult subjects. “I think it's too early to be giving up on her.”

Her expression changed back to that of a no-nonsense schoolmarm. “Planning for a less than happy outcome is
not
giving up on her, and it's definitely not too soon to be thinking of such things. One must strive to be prepared for any contingency. I would think, especially in this case, that would be true.”

She was right of course, at least about facing facts. But he wasn't ready to discuss going on without the children's foster mother.

“If the time comes when that becomes necessary, I'll figure something out. Rest assured, I won't abandon these children until I've made certain they'll be well cared for.”

“A commendable sentiment. But again, you aren't doing the children any favors by not planning ahead.”

He knew she was right but he wasn't ready to deal with it just yet. “Is there anything else you need to discuss with me?”

“I would like to know a little more about the children.”

“Such as?”

“Do you know anything of their history? For instance, how did they all come to live with Miss Fredrick? And are any of them siblings?”

“I'm not well acquainted with them personally, but my sister gave me bits and pieces of their stories in the letters she wrote me. And Miss Fredrick gave me some information when I agreed to help her find a new place to set up her household.” He chose his words carefully. “There are some sets of siblings in the group and some who have no blood kin here. But they are
all
siblings now, at least in spirit.”

“Of course.”

Perhaps it would help her feel more of a kinship to the children if she did know some personal information about them. “Fern, Rose and Lily are sisters,” he elaborated. “They were the first that Miss Fredrick took in so they've been living with her the longest. They're the children of a distant relation of Miss Fredrick's. She took them and their mother in when the woman learned she had consumption. She gave the girl's mother her word that they would always have a home with her.” No need to mention that their father died in jail. “They were the first Miss Fredrick took in and that was about six years ago.”

“Is that when she decided to open a children's home?”

“She didn't decide, exactly. She told me that was God's idea, not hers.”

Mrs. Pierce frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”

“She made no real effort to take other children in—they just landed on her doorstep, so to speak.” He marshaled his thoughts, hoping he had the details right. He had to be careful not to share any of the secrets that weren't his to share.

“Less than a year after the three girls moved in,” he continued, “a neighbor who'd recently lost his wife asked Miss Fredrick to look after his kids during the day while he was at work until he could make other arrangements. Those kids were Russell, Harry and Tessa. Two weeks later, the man died. The kids didn't have anyone else step forward to claim them, so she assured the children they would have a home with her for as long as they wanted one.” He didn't go into how the father died. The man took to the bottle after his wife died and got himself killed in a bar fight. He wasn't sure how much the kids knew about that sad event, but he certainly wasn't going to be the one to spread the word.

“They were fortunate to have found a place with someone so kindhearted,” Mrs. Pierce said.

“That they are—all ten of 'em. In the following years, four infants were left on Miss Fredrick's doorstep—I guess folks heard that they would be welcome there. Unfortunately two of the infants didn't survive long.” Many of Miss Fredrick's neighbors held the opinion that it was prostitutes who abandoned their offspring at her door. And they were likely right.

“I take it Molly and Joey were the two who did survive?”

He nodded, surprised that she remembered their names.

“So they are the ones who have no siblings among the others.”

He stiffened. “Like I said, something you need to remember about these kids if you want to understand them is that in every way but blood they consider themselves siblings and Miss Fredrick as their mother. She worked very hard to instill that in them—the fact that they are truly a family, I mean. I don't intend to let anyone take that bond away from them.”