Promise me tomorrow (30 page)

"Come in, Quintin," she commanded none-too-gently. Chase looked at her in shock, but she didn't notice. She went on before he could tell her to stop.

"Your father and I are having an argument. Did you know that people argue, Quintin? I am angry at him, and he's angry at me. We might be sorry for some of the things we've said, but right now we're very upset!"

The little boy looked between them, his face ashen. He surprised both adults when he looked to his father and asked, "Are you going to hit Aunt Rusty?"

"No, Quintin," Chase replied, his voice returning to its normal quiet. "I would never hit your Aunt Rusty. Not for any reason would I do such a thing."

Hearing the calm in his voice, Rusty came to her senses so swiftly that she thought her heart would burst.
Rusty Taggart, what have you done?
Telling herself not to burst into tears, she took a deep breath and tried to calm the wild beating of her heart.

"Come here, Quintin," she said softly and held out her hand. Seeing her behave normally again, the little boy came without hesitation. Rusty went to the long davenport, sat down, and lifted Quintin onto her lap. She was somewhat aware that Chase had taken one of the chairs.

'Tell me something, Quin. Did you and Mrs. Harding ever start a book that you weren't able to finish?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, even though you haven't done that, you do understand that it could happen, don't you? You might be reading a book that you like very much, but for some reason you must put it back on the shelf and not finish it or get it out again?"

The little boy nodded.

"Sometimes it's like that with people too," Rusty continued.

"Don't do this."

The words came so softly that Rusty almost missed them. Quintin's eyes were still on her face, so she knew he had missed his father's plea. She swallowed and brushed the hair from Quintin's brow, thankful that she could at least apologize before she had to go.

"I'm going to need to explain this to you later, Quin. Your father and I still need to talk."

"Are you going to fight again?"

"No, we're not." Rusty's shame was huge. "But we do need to talk. Will you go into the kitchen or back to the veranda? Maybe Cook has a snack for you."

"All right."

Quintin slid off her lap and started toward the door that would take him to the front hall and then the kitchen. He worriedly glanced back on his way through the portal, but Rusty was watching and smiling at him. He left with a smile of his own.

Rusty was at a complete loss. She could feel Chase's eyes on her but couldn't bring herself to look at him. She'd been so angry and out of line.

"I didn't mean it when I said you were fired," Chase said softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "I only said that to see what you would do. I'm sorry."

Rusty shook her head, not wanting him to apologize. She deserved all he had said and more, and for that reason she still couldn't lift her eyes to his. Standing suddenly, she walked to the bay window. Chase followed right behind her.

"I can't do this anymore," she said, barely holding her tears. "I can't do this, and I should have told you."

"Katherine." Chase's voice was lower than usual. His hands were on her upper arms, and he turned her to face him. He held her in front of him, and she looked up to meet his gaze with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"He's so precious, and you don't even know he's here." Her voice was just above a whisper. "I don't know how you can stand not touching him. Have you ever smelled his hair and skin after he's had a bath, or had him look you in the eye and say, "1 love you, Papa"? He doesn't even know you, Mr. McCandles." Rusty shook her head. Every ounce of helplessness she'd felt came bubbling to the surface.

"Whatever it is that keeps you so busy—this house, the staff, whatever—I wish you would get rid of it. Sell this expensive home, dismiss the staff, and move into a small apartment in town so you have time to be a father to that child. I see more than 30 little boys every day who would die to have a father. Quintin has one, but what good does it do? All the nice clothing, food, and surroundings aren't worth a thing unless Quintin knows you love him."

The tears spilled over then, and Chase's heart broke for more than one reason. Without permission he pulled Rusty into his arms and just held her. He'd seen this on her face for days now and not known what it was. His father had not had a hand in his rearing, and his mother had been ill for much of his childhood. He'd been raised by a nanny. It had never occurred to him to do it any other way. Was Quintin really in so much need of him? Was his life truly missing so much?

Without warning, Clayton Taggart came to mind. There was such warmth and caring between that man and his family Chase hadnt shared any kind of depth with his father until a year before he died. He didn't know when he'd thought to have that type of relationship with his own son. Maybe that was the problem. He hadn't thought about it at all.

Chase removed one arm now, reached for his handkerchief, and pressed it into Rustys hands. He put a hand to her back and gently propelled her to the sofa.

"Sit here, Katherine."

She complied, and he sat on the edge of the cushion, his body turned so he could look at her. He waited until she was a little more in control of herself and then began to speak.

"You've been upset about something since you arrived, and I haven't known how to ask you what was wrong."

Rusty looked up at him and tried not to sniff, the handkerchief balled in her hand.

'This was what you were talking about when you said you'd been raised differently; I see that now."

"I'm so sorry for the things I said." Rusty had to stop him. "You told me I was out of line, and I just kept on. You did the right thing in firing me."

"You're not fired," Chase said firmly. "If you tried to leave us, I think I would block the door."

They fell silent for several moments. Rusty used the handkerchief again and tried not to cry. This was no easy task. The pain and confusion she saw on Chase McCandles' face was almost too much for her.

"Tell me about your childhood, Katherine."

Rusty blinked at him. "My childhood?"

"Yes. Tell me what it was like growing up with your father."

"I don't know where to start," she hedged. Chase would not let her off that easily.

"You said you were raised differently. What did you mean by that?"

Rusty bit her lip. Should she do this?

"Why are you hesitating?"

"Don't you see how wrong I was, Mr. McCandles? It's not my place to tell you how to raise your child."

Chase's eyes moved to the distance. He thought she was the perfect person to tell him. He would have to go about this another way. His eyes suddenly swung back and pinned her to the seat.

"If you could have anything for Quintin, what would it be?"

Rusty's brows rose.

"If you need to think about it, that's fine."

This was easier said than done. For a moment Rusty's mind was blank. She nearly laughed, however, when the most obvious thing came to mind.

"Go ahead," Chase urged. He'd been watching her closely.

"I wish his mother were still alive," she said simply. "I know how I feel about my mother, and I wish he could have a mother as loving as mine."

"What else?"

"I know what you're doing," she accused.

"Just tell me." His voice was quite firm, and Rusty obeyed, albeit quietly.

"I wish you would play with him." Rusty made herself meet his
eyes.
"I wish you would tickle him and chase him through the house. I wish you would take him up in Shelby's saddle and ride for miles. I wish you would read your Bible to him and tuck him in at night, eat dinner with him, and take him to town for haircuts and shopping."

"Your father did all of this?"

Rusty nodded. "My mother was blind, Mr. McCandles. She wasn't completely helpless by any means. She did a lot for us, but my father probably did more with us than would have been the norm. I know that the situations are not identical, but that's the way I was raised. That's the way it was with Clayton Taggart. He wasn't perfect, but he had time for us. We understood how deep his love for Christ was and how we meant everything to him."

Chases eyes closed. How could he have been so unaware?

"Are you all right?" Rusty asked.

Chase looked at her. "I've never told Quintin a Bible story. I know Mrs. Harding reads the Bible to him, but I don't know what he knows."

Rusty nodded. "He can recite many stories, but I don't think he's taken anything to heart. That is, I don't think he's made any kind of personal commitment."

Chase nodded, and this time his silence lasted for quite some time.

"I should go," Rusty said when the time lengthened. She suddenly found her jaw captured in one of his large hands.

"You're not fired."

"I didn't mean that. I only meant I should go check on Quin."

"Oh," Chase said, but didn't drop his hand. "We are settled on this, are we not, Katherine? You know that I want you to stay, and you plan to stay, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid that I've ruined things forever. You'll not trust me and—"

Chase was shaking his head. "Things will be different now, but not because I don't trust you." He dropped his hand and stared at her. "Why don't you go and put a cool cloth on your eyes?

I'll go check on Quintin."

"All right," Rusty said quietly, trying to hide her surprise.

Chase waited for her to stand and precede him from the room. Rusty naturally took the stairs to her bedroom, but not before she took note of the fact that her employer went right past the stairs toward the kitchen. Rusty finished climbing the stairs with her heart in her throat. She didn't know what the final outcome would be, but she knew with a certainty that she would never forget this day.

34

"Quintin," Chase called as soon as he saw his son at the kitchen table. "Are you finished with your snack?"

"Yes, sir," Quintin answered quietly, wondering if he was in trouble.

"Will you go for a walk with me?"

The little boy was utterly stunned. He knew better than to question or argue, but his
eyes
kept darting past his father to the doorway. It was impossible for Chase to miss.

"Aunt Rusty went up to her room for a little while," he told him quietly. "I think shell be down later."

Quintin stared up at his father and watched as he started toward the door. The little boy followed, his eyes watchful. Chase opened the door and stood aside for Quintin to go out.

When the door was shut, the women in the kitchen looked at one another. It had been impossible not to hear the shouting from the other room, and then Quintin had come into the kitchen on his own. It was anyone's guess as to whether or not Rusty still worked at Briarly, but more confusing than that was Chase McCandles coming to take his son for a walk. Dozens of questions swarmed the women's minds, but neither said a word.

***

Chase was many feet caller than his son, so once outside he shortened his steps and started toward the garden. Quintin fell in beside him, and for some moments no one spoke. Chase searched for something to say to this little person whom he barely knew, and then he caught sight of the woods. He remembered that Quintin and Rusty visited there almost daily.

"Did you come to the woods this morning with Aunt Rusty?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you do?"

Quintin tried to stop and stand at attention to report to his father, but his father kept walking. He dashed ahead and tried again, but his father changed positions once more. Wondering at his odd gait, Chase came to a stop and stared down at him. The older McCandles' heart sank when Quintin stopped like a little toy soldier and began to speak in a monotone voice. Rustys words about a wind-up toy came swiftly back to him. Chase interrupted his son.

"Why don't you tell me while we walk, Quintin. Can you do that?"

"Oh, all right." He sounded slightly confused. "We went to the woods."

"What did you see?"

"Trees and a dead bird."

"A dead bird? Was it a baby?"

"No. It was big, like a mother bird."

"Will you show it to me?"

Quintin nodded affably and led the way from the garden. Chase stared down at his small head and felt something tear at his heart.
He's all I have, Lord, but I've never told him. Hes so precious to me, but to him I'm just "sir. " How could I have been so blind? How can I make this up to him? Will he even want anything to do with me? I need a miracle here. Lord
—
in his heart as well as my own.

"Its here," Quintin pointed out as Chase tried to control his heart. "Right here under this tree.

"Oh, yes," Chase returned as he squatted down to look. "It is a big bird, a—" Chase had been on the verge of naming it but stopped. "What is this bird, Quintin?"

"Its a starling," he said confidently. "We didn't see a nest, but then we couldn't look very high."

Chase began to move among the trees, his height giving him a firm advantage among the low branches. He searched for several minutes before finding a possibility.

"Here, Quintin, look at this one."

Quintin came over and without thought Chase swung him up into his arms.

"Do you see it?" Chase stood so Quintin could look over the tree branch and into the nest. "Is this the one?"

"It might be," Quintin said after he'd looked at it carefully. "I need to check my book."

Chase looked back into the nest and made a few more comments. He knew a little about birds and took a moment to point something out to his son about the way the twigs were laid in the nest. He glanced back to see if Quintin was understanding, but he found the younger McCandles watching him, not the nest. Chase was so overcome by emotion that he felt a sting behind his eyes.

"Thank you for showing me the bird, Quintin," he said quietly.

"We're up high."

Chase could only smile, his heart melting into a puddle when Quintin smiled in return. Just a moment later, however, Chase began to feel awkward and gently lowered Quintin to the ground.