The Hand-Me-Down Family (24 page)

W
hen they arrived in town the next morning, Jack noted with approval that Ben had finished getting things ready. There was a large sign that read Cooper's Photography and Business Office hanging out front, and the shades were rolled up on the big glass fronted window facing the sidewalk.

A number of townsfolk were gathered around, talking with interest about the new business venture.

Jack halted the wagon right in front and set the brake. “Simon, help your sisters down, please.” He jumped down and strode quickly around to lend Callie a hand.

Once she was safely on the ground, he retrieved a box from under the buggy seat. “I bought you a little something.”

She gave him a startled look. “What's the occasion?”

He shrugged. “Call it a late birthday present. Or something to remember me by.”

She opened the lid and, to Jack's relief, gave a cry of delight. “Oh, Jack, it's lovely.” She lifted the hat out of the box, turning it this way and that to examine every ribbon and flower. “I've never owned anything so beautiful.”

“Mrs. Mayweather helped pick it out.” Jack fidgeted with
the brim of his own hat. “The green ribbons were my idea though. I thought they matched your eyes.”

Her expression softened as she fingered the ribbon. “It's such a thoughtful gift.”

He saw the moment the realization hit her. Her eyes lost some of their sparkle and regret mingled with apprehension on her face. “But I can't—”

He wasn't about to let her back down. “It would mean a lot to me if you'd wear it for the picture.”

“But—”

Jack touched a finger to her lips and saw her eyes widen in reaction.

“When I look at this picture in the coming weeks,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice, “I want to see
you
looking back at me, the woman I had all those late night talks with, not some shrinking violet hiding behind a bonnet.”

She hesitated and her gaze darted to the nearby crowd.

More than likely a number of them were eavesdropping. At least he hoped so. He didn't want to leave even a faint impression in anyone's mind that he had a problem with the way she looked.

When her eyes met his again he saw her uncertainty was stronger than ever. But he held her gaze, refusing to give in, and finally she nodded.

Pride surged through him, pride in her mettle and in her spirit. He knew the courage it had taken to make that decision. “Good.” He reached for the ribbon tied beneath her chin, acting quickly, before she could change her mind. “Allow me.”

With deft movements, he untied the bonnet strings and removed it from her head while she held perfectly still. Her gaze was locked onto his as if to a lifeline.

Handing the old bonnet to Emma without breaking eye
contact, he took the new hat and placed it on her head. “What do you think, girls? Full on or at an angle?”

“Definitely at an angle,” Emma said with a smile.

“I agree.” He set the hat at a jaunty tilt and tied the bow with a flourish.

He ran the back of his hand softly down her blemished cheek, then took a step back to study the effect. “Yes, much better.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Callie nearly melted inside from the sweetness of his touch.

Was this some sort of show he was putting on for the benefit of the town? Or did he truly not mind what she looked like?

All she knew was, right at this moment, she didn't care. Either way, his motives were grounded in a true nobility of spirit. And thanks to him, she'd never felt lovelier in her life.

Callie's courage held all the way up until the actual sitting. Suddenly she became very conscious of the other folks who'd wandered inside or stood outside at the window, watching what was going on.

When Ben tried to pose the five of them, reality flooded back in. What had she been thinking? Why in the world would she want to preserve this hopelessly flawed image of herself?

Ignoring Ben's directions, she turned so that only her good side was showing.

Jack, however, was having none of that.

“I want everyone looking straight at the camera,” he announced in his firmest tone. “Just as if they were looking at me.” He met Callie's gaze. “Because that's what I want to see when I look at this picture.”

So despite her better judgment, Callie swallowed hard, tried to shut out everyone else, and stared at the camera. She imagined it was Jack, way across the country in California, looking back at her. She even managed a wavery smile.

When the sitting was finally over, they headed for the buggy. Callie held tightly to Jack's arm, wanting to shrink away every time they stopped to talk to someone. She felt all those eyes staring at her, judging her by the mark on her face, and pitying Jack for being tied to her.

When they reached the buggy, she offered Simon her seat up front and climbed into the back with the girls before Jack could protest. She told him to let Simon drive them home, that the boy needed to get more practice in.

But the resigned look on Jack's face told her she hadn't fooled him. And moreover, she'd spoiled his pleasure in the gift.

Why couldn't he understand that she had accepted the burden of who she was? She didn't need nor even want to force everyone else to live with it as well.

As soon as they walked into the house, Callie stopped in front of the mirrored hall tree and untied the ribbons under her chin. “Emma,” she called as she removed the lovely bit of millenary, “do you still have my bonnet?”

“I think I left it in the buggy,” Emma said. “But you don't really need it right now, do you?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“Doesn't it make you feel all hot and stuffy?” Annabeth asked. “Besides, I hardly ever get to see your angel's kiss.”

“I know, sweetie, but—”

“But what?” Simon interrupted. “Other ladies don't wear sunbonnets in the house.”

That brought her up short. She thought the sight of her birthmark embarrassed Simon.

“It sounds like you're outvoted to me.” Jack stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.

Callie stared at the four of them and felt something inside her uncoil softly, like a morning glory unfurling at the first hint of sunlight.

Not even her parents and sisters had looked at her that way. With them, she'd always known they were protecting her, were trying to make her feel normal. She'd always felt the need to make herself not only as invisible as possible, but also as useful as possible to justify her place in the family.

The feeling she was getting right now from Jack and the children was that she
was
normal, she was appreciated for who she was, and they truly didn't understand why she'd want to shut herself off.

“Very well.” She heard the huskiness in her voice and made an effort to lighten it. “We shall leave the sunbonnets for when I'm out in the sun.”

Callie headed upstairs, needing a few minutes alone to absorb the feelings flooding through her. The mix of joy, gratitude and humble appreciation were almost overwhelming.

Thank you, Father, for placing me in the midst of this wonderful family. When I grow lonely or discouraged in the days to come, let me remember this moment and find joy again.

She couldn't bear to put Jack's gift back in its hatbox. Instead, she set it in a place of honor on the top of her bureau where she could see it whenever she was in the room.

It had been such a deliberately kind, meaningful gesture on Jack's part. How could she ever repay him? There wasn't anything she could give in return that could compare—

Her gaze fell on her bedside table.

Actually, there was one thing.

 

Callie took a deep breath as she prepared to step out on the porch that evening. Then she pushed open the screen door and, bypassing the bench, took a seat on the step beside him.

Jack halted his whittling and gave her a startled look.

“I want you to take this with you.” She held the well-worn Bible out to him.

Jack looked down at the book and then his gaze flew up to meet hers. “This is your personal Bible.”

She smiled. “I have the Tyler family Bible now. And you can bring this one back to me when you return.”

“Callie, I don't—”

“I know. But humor me.” She took his hand, turned it palm up and set the Bible there. She placed her own hand on top. “I
want
you to have this. It'll be like taking a part of me with you.”
You already have my heart, but that will be my secret.

They sat like that for a long moment, gazes locked, the Bible sandwiched between their left hands.

Finally Jack nodded. “I'd be honored to guard this for you until I return.” He gave her his crooked smile. “I might even read it from time to time.”

She held his gaze a moment longer. “I hope so. Because, whenever we do our evening Bible reading here, I'll be imagining you doing the same. It'll be almost like you're in the room with us.”

But almost was not nearly the same as actually.

Why can't I be content with what I have instead of always wanting more?

J
ack leaned back against the seat of the stage, watching the town of Sweetgum roll past the window, still seeing the faces of the four of them as they waved goodbye from the sidewalk outside the Sweetgum Hotel and Post Office.

The goodbyes had been more difficult than he'd imagined. And not just for those he'd left behind.

Strange how different this departure was from that last one eleven years ago. There'd been no one to see him off then, because he hadn't told anyone ahead of time he was leaving. Just left a note and slipped away.

Back then he'd been eagerly looking ahead to new adventures, confident that once he stepped out of Lanny's shadow he'd finally come into his own. And in a way he had. That pushing-forward drive had become a way of life for him, keeping him always moving, always looking to the next job, the next challenge.

And until he read that earth-shattering telegram, he'd never let himself look back.

This leave-taking today, though, had a whole different feel to it. Instead of that sense of anticipation, there was a pull to
look back. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he was leaving behind—the homeplace that seemed more like home now than it ever had before, the kids who looked to him to keep their world safe, and most of all Callie, who was so loving and determined and full of the right kind of grit. So much so, actually, that it seemed she no longer needed him.

He tipped his hat down over his face and shifted to a more comfortable position. This strange mood was probably just fatigue and delayed grieving.

He'd no doubt be back to his old self by the time he reached California.

 

“You have such a lovely voice, dear.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Mayweather, what a kind thing to say.” Callie stepped from the church into the bright sunshine. Jack had been gone for three days and already she missed him almost more than she could bear. It had been hard on the children as well. Did Jack realize how much they'd all come to care for him, how big a hole his departure had left behind?

But she refused to wear a long face and feel sorry for herself—at least not in public.

“Not kind, honest.” Mrs. Mayweather fluttered an elegant ivory and lace fan under her chin. “I wish God had seen fit to bless me with such talent instead of a frog-like croak.”

Callie was distracted by the discomfort of her tight-fitting bonnet. “I'm sure your voice is quite nice,” she said absently.

She ignored the urge to loosen the ribbon. She still wore the poke bonnets when she came to town, of course. But now that she had dispensed with wearing them at home, she found they no longer felt like the part of her they once had.

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Mayweather smiled and patted her hand. “No need to worry about my feelings, Callista, dear. I have learned to live with my limitations.” She sighed. “It's just that
I do love to sing and I must constantly remind myself to hold back so that I don't disrupt the service.”

Callie shook her head, certain her friend had blown the problem all out of proportion. “I'm certain you're being much too harsh with yourself.”

“Not at all. Sometimes I do feel it is such a trial not to be able to just burst out in song. But the voices raised in the worship service should have an angelic quality to them, not a rasping one.”

Callie stopped and turned to face her friend fully. There was no reason Mrs. Mayweather should think of herself in such unflattering terms. “I am surprised that you of all people should say such a thing. Why, isn't your voice the one God saw fit to give you? As such it cannot be displeasing to Him. On the contrary, I imagine it would give Him great pleasure to hear you lift it up in praise.”

“Perhaps.” The schoolteacher gave a wry smile. “But it would hardly be fair to the rest of the congregation.”

“Nonsense.” Callie waved that objection aside, determined to make her friend see how foolish she was being. “And anyone who thought the less of you for it would not be in the frame of mind they should be in when in God's house. You should be proud of that which God gave you.”

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “What an enlightened way of looking at things.” She closed her fan with a snap and gave Callie a pointed look. “You know, that was such a lovely hat Jackson gave you before he left.” She touched her chin with the folded fan, “I wonder why it is you haven't worn it since?”

The schoolteacher's point hit Callie with the force of physical blow. The heat crawled into her cheeks with a relentless sting.

Mrs. Mayweather smiled, aware that her dart had hit its
mark. “It is so much easier to see how others should handle life's burdens than it is to handle our own, is it not?”

Callie nodded numbly. Was Mrs. Mayweather right? Had she been hiding behind her bonnet all these years, not out of respect for the feelings of others, but out of vanity?

How many times had she lectured others as she had Mrs. Mayweather just now on how they shouldn't be ashamed of whatever talent or burden God had assigned to them.

She'd been so eager to find the mote in others' eyes that she'd ignored the beam in her own.

Oh, Father, I've been such a vain, self-righteous fool. Lend me Your strength to follow through and do what I now know is the right thing to do.

 

Jack stepped onto the station platform feeling tired and out of sorts. He wasn't even certain what the name of this town was, only that he needed to switch trains here.

A check-in at the depot window brought the unwelcome news that he'd just missed his connection and would have to wait until tomorrow afternoon for the next one.

Hefting his bag, he trudged to the town's only hotel, which he'd been assured served a decent meal and had clean sheets.

Up in his room, Jack pulled Callie's Bible out of his bag. Reading a passage every evening had become a habit. One that, for some reason, he hadn't wanted to break.

He opened the Bible and found himself in the book of Psalms. He read the first verse he came to, but his mind was too distracted by other thoughts to really absorb the words.

Who was reading the verses at home tonight? Callie? Simon?

Would Callie step out on the porch to look at the stars after she put the kids to bed? Did she miss their talks?

Surging to his feet, Jack strode out of the room. Maybe finding something to eat would put him in a better mood.

The next morning, after a restless night, Jack woke to the sound of church bells. Was it Sunday? Still half-asleep, he felt his lips curve in a smile. If Callie were here she'd give him one of those looks that made him feel guilty for even thinking about not attending services.

Well, why not? He came fully awake and scrubbed his hand across his face as he sat up. He was stuck here until afternoon and he had nothing better to do.

Jack shaved and dressed quickly, then walked the short distance to the local church. The service was just starting when he slipped inside, and he took a few seconds to get his bearings. It was a much larger church than the one in Sweetgum. But he spotted an empty seat on a pew near the back and quietly slipped in. He received a friendly smile from the elderly couple seated next to him, then everyone faced forward as the organ began to play.

The first hymn was one he already knew, so he sang along. The choir was good, but he missed the sound of Callie's voice.

As the organ stilled, Jack suddenly felt like a fraud. What in the world was he doing? Why had he come here? Was he such a besotted fool that he'd attend a church service just to feel closer to the family he'd left behind?

Not only was this foolish, it was wrong. This was a place for the worthy to come and find love and fellowship, not for the likes of him.

Jack had half risen from his seat when the preacher stepped up to the pulpit and opened his Bible.

“The passage we're going to study this morning is that of Luke 15, the parable of the lost sheep.”

There was something about the man's voice, about his earnest expression, that grabbed hold of Jack, made him sit back down and truly listen.

He sat through the sermon, listening to the preacher
expound on God's deep desire to reclaim the lost, and His joyful celebration over bringing even the lowest of backsliders back into the fold. The longer he listened, the tighter the vice-like grip in his chest squeezed.

After the service, he almost ran from the building. He shut himself inside his hotel room and before he'd even realized what he was doing, the Bible Callie had given him was open on his lap and he was turning to the passage the preacher had read earlier.

And he continued reading, moving from that passage to barely remembered verses that had been so alive for him in his childhood.

Why had he wasted so much of his life trying to escape something that didn't matter one jot? So what if he wasn't the man Lanny had been? So what if no one in Sweetgum ever thought of him as the best at anything?

To God he was special, the stray sheep that was searched for until found, the prodigal son whose return was not only marked but celebrated.

And if God truly valued him, why should the rest matter?

He might not have gotten the answers he wanted to those passionately uttered prayers so long ago, but that didn't mean God hadn't been listening. And God had gifted him in the here and now by putting Callie and the kids in his life. Only he'd blindly thrown it all away.

Was it too late?

God, I've been such a pig-headed fool, trying to impose my will on Yours, to wrest control over my life from You. Not only did I do a lousy job at it in the process, but I blamed You when things didn't turn out the way I wanted. Are You really willing to give me another chance, a chance to do it right this time? I won't promise I'll get it perfect 'cause we both know I'd never pull it off, but I will promise I'll try with everything I've got.