Wanted: A Family (6 page)

What would she do then?

What she would not do is worry. The tightness in her chest eased. If God gave an assignment, he enabled its success. She'd find a way to care for these girls and her precious child.

Unbidden, the image of Jacob Smith popped into her mind. She forced it away. Nothing good would come from her attraction to that man.

 

After securing the last board on the porch, Jake stowed the tools, his work done for the day. The idea of examining those newspapers and scrapbooks for information about his birth crept into his thoughts. If he asked to see them, Mrs. Mitchell would want an explanation. An explanation he couldn't give.

The temptation to enter her house uninvited lurched
in his stomach. Unlocked or not, such an action would be deceitful. Time in jail didn't mean he'd lost his standards. Perhaps she'd give him an opportunity. But for now he'd visit the café, talk to that chatty waitress and see what he could learn. Nothing to stop him now that he'd finished the porch.

Not so long ago he'd lived behind bars, confined to a space the size of the lean-to. Now he could move about the Mitchell property, the town of Peaceful, why, the State of Indiana, even the whole country if he got the itch to roam. Grinning, he gave a whoop, then headed out.

On Liberty, he entered the Corner Café, a nondescript colorless place, but spotless as a shiny penny. All eyes turned to him, the stranger in town. Some filled with curiosity. Most appeared welcoming. Not the reaction he'd come to expect. He removed his hat and gave a friendly nod.

Small-town scrutiny was a far cry from what he'd experienced in prison. The warden, guards, convicts serving time appraised each new inmate. All formed judgments, putting a man into one of two slots—troublemaker or target. Troublemakers got respect. Targets got contempt. That first day, Jake learned he'd have to wear a tough-guy persona to survive.

Better remember that welcoming smiles didn't mean these folks wouldn't probe into his past. A past he wanted to forget. But couldn't. No, shouldn't. That past taught him a valuable lesson. Never trust anyone. Even those he felt close to.

Especially
those he felt close to.

“Hiya, handsome.” The waitress, a crisp apron tied around her waist, approached the counter. “

“Hi, Jessie.”

A dazzling smile lit her pixie face. “A gal likes to be remembered. What can I get ya?”

He laid his hat on the stool beside him. “Coffee, black.”

She grabbed a cup with one hand, the pot with the other and poured mid air, never spilling a drop. “Heard you're working at Callie's.”

“Word travels fast.” Jake took a sip, strong and hot. Not as pungent as Mrs. Mitchell's, but good. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Plenty wrong with that old mansion to keep a man busy for months.” She poured a cup for herself then sidled closer. “I hope this means you're staying.”

“My plans are indefinite.”

She chortled. “Isn't that always the way with you good-looking types?”

Jessie's interest was obvious, even to him, a man who avoided connections. She was cute, but lacked the gentle refinement of Mrs. Mitchell.

Why was he thinking about either of them? He had no intention of getting entangled with anyone. No right to consider it, especially with the attractive young widow. He had no idea about what made a family. No idea how to create one. Even if he trusted a woman enough to consider settling down.

Conversation resumed in the café, permitting Jake to pursue his objective. “You get lots of people passing through?”

“No such luck. Life would be more exciting if we did.” She leaned a hip against the counter. “You're the first stranger to come into town in ages.”

“Have you lived here long?”

“All my life.” She leaned toward him. “So tell me, is it true that Elise Langley's staying with Callie?”

Here was the opening he needed. Surely Jessie had heard
the local gossip, even back twenty-four years. “Yes. I reckon a young lady in her fix is a rare occurrence in Peaceful.”

“Not as rare as you'd think. Most get married before word gets out, but folks can count.” She smirked. “And usually do, if you get my drift.”

“Yes, ma'am, I do.” He took a sip of coffee. “You keep up with the news.”

“I hear things. Most folks have a skeleton or two in their cupboard.”

Jake would choose his words with care. Anything he said to this woman wouldn't stop there. “A distant relative of mine may have lived here once, years ago. I don't know exactly where.”

She stirred sugar into her coffee. “What's the name?”

“That's the catch. I don't recall. Just remember someone saying the woman lived here. The town name stuck.”

She chuckled. “Reckon it would. Well, if you remember her name, ask that neighbor of Callie's, Mildred Uland. She's the town's oldest resident and never forgets a thing.” She fiddled with her hair. “Or even better, come in and talk to me.”

Ignoring the not-so-subtle message, Jake took another sip of coffee. Jessie sighed and took a step back.

The waitress made a good point. Mrs. Mitchell's neighbor would know all the secrets in this town. “I've met Mrs. Uland. She appears to be a good friend of Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Callie attracts friends like pollen does bees. And she needs every one. Can't imagine your husband dying then discovering you're expecting.” Jessie picked up the pot. “Reckon what don't kill you makes you strong.” She patted his arm, then made the rounds, pouring coffee.

Jake drained his cup. On top of the heavy load she carried, Mrs. Mitchell would cope with motherhood alone.
Why did that trouble him? Wasn't that what he thought his mother should've done? And hadn't?

He paid his bill, adding a generous tip. He'd come, hoping Jessie would rattle off a list of other unwed mothers in town, but he'd gotten nowhere. From what she'd said, unwed mothers weren't as rare as he'd thought. One thing for sure, the waitress had a soft spot in her heart for Callie Mitchell.

Much like the feelings he had for the woman.

Jake's stomach plunged as it had when he'd heard the jury pronounce the guilty verdict. He wouldn't care about Callie Mitchell. Caring carried a stiff penalty. He wasn't here to get involved with anyone. Not even with a woman whose heart appeared to be the size of Texas.

Jake knew better than to pin his happiness on how someone appeared. Both Lloyd and Susan had taught him that even a loving demeanor could hide a devious heart.

A
s she sat on one of the two chairs in the examining room, the scent of antiseptic tingled in Callie's nostrils. Across the way, Doctor Wellman, a thatch of blond hair falling across his forehead, moved his stethoscope along Elise's stomach. Doc looked like he could use a wife, to see he got a haircut and his suit pressed, but the life of a small-town doctor probably didn't give a man much time to court.

Doc straightened and removed the earpieces of the stethoscope. “Everything's fine. From the baby's heart rate, I'm guessing you're having a girl.”

Elise beamed. “If it is, I'm naming her Kathryn Marie. Marie is Callie's middle name.”

Callie grinned. “I'd be honored.”

If she had a girl, Callie would give the baby her mother's name. If a boy… She probably should name him after Martin, but she thought of her father and brother and knew she wouldn't.

“If you're wrong, Doc,” Elise said, “and this baby's a boy, I'm naming him David.”

“Thank you.”

“David's your name?”

“Joseph David Wellman. My folks call me Joe David.”

“King David was God's man, a perfect name for my baby if it's a boy.” Elise's smile drooped. “Oh, David sinned with Bathsheba. Maybe I should select another name—”

“Nonsense.” Doc tapped her on the hand. “God used David in a mighty way, sin and all. None of us are perfect.”

“Obviously, I'm not.” Laying a hand on her abdomen, she flushed. “My sin is out there for everyone to see.”

“That baby was knit in your womb by God Himself. That makes her special.” He waggled his brows. “No more of that harsh talk, you hear?”

Callie wanted to hug Doc for reassuring Elise.

“Some people make sure I don't forget what I've done.” She sighed. “Not that I should.”

Doc helped Elise to a sitting position. “If I thought it would do any good, I'd crack a few hard heads together.” He lifted Elise's chin. “But it's folks' hearts that need softening. Only the good Lord's got a cure for that.”

Something close to adoration filled Elise's eyes. Did Doctor Wellman realize how much he meant to Elise? Perhaps she saw him as a father figure, a substitute of sorts.

“Your baby's healthy and hardy, Miss Langley. Most likely, she'll make an appearance around May Day.”

“I like the name David.”

“You can use David for the next baby,” Doc said with a laugh. “This one's a girl.”

Elise smiled up at Doc as he leaned over her, a teasing look on his lean face. Why hadn't she noticed the magnetism between them at other appointments? Doc always joked with Elise, tried to ease the guilt she wore like her personal scarlet
A.

Up until now, Callie had thought Doc's kindness toward
Elise stemmed from a physician's concern for his patient, but now she wondered if it could mean more.

Just as she'd decided that Elise and Doc had forgotten her presence in the room, Doc motioned to Callie. “You're next.”

Callie traded places with Elise and stretched out on the narrow table. Doc Wellman leaned over her. “Have you felt movement, Mrs. Mitchell?”

“I've felt fluttering sensations of late.”

“Good, exactly what you should be feeling at five months. That's your baby waving hello. Enjoy it.” He grinned. “It won't be long before he'll wallop you awake at night.”

Elise giggled. “And send you racing to the chamber pot.”

Doc chuckled. “Ah, the inconveniences of motherhood.”

After he'd finished his examination, Doc helped Callie upright. “Your lives are about to change, ladies. Don't get me wrong. I grew up in a big family, oldest of seven. I've seen babies bring great joy…and a heap of responsibility.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Not easy for either of you, since you'll most likely raise your children alone, at least, in the beginning. That first week or two, enlist the help of others.”

“Doc, I'd like to enlist your help, if I may,” Callie said then went on to explain her plans for housing unwed mothers and concerns for their care.

“You can count on me, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“You've relieved my mind. I'm not sure I could deliver babies alone.”

“I'll be glad to take care of delivering their babies. If they can pay, fine. If not, I won't allow them to go without medical care.” He sighed. “Too many women die in
childb—” He closed his eyes then opened them. “I'm sorry. I'm not much of a doctor to voice that in front of two expectant mothers.”

“A walk through Walnut Grove Cemetery makes it clear.” Callie glanced at Elise. Hoping the talk didn't scare her.

“Most women do fine. These days, doctors know the importance of hygiene. Not that many years ago, doctors performed surgeries wearing street clothes and without washing their hands. We've come a long way.” He smiled. “I like the idea of your unwed mothers' home. I can see that Elise has flourished since she's moved in with you.” Doc looked at Elise. “Miss Langley, your mother told me she'd pay for your care.”

Elise smiled. “She did?”

“Others may be able to do the same,” Callie said, “but it's a huge blessing to know a young woman without money will have the care she needs.”

“That's why I'm a doctor.” He looked at Elise. “See you next week—same time, Miss Langley. Mrs. Mitchell, schedule for next month. Enjoy this pretty afternoon, ladies.”

After making their appointments, Callie and Elise left the office, heading to the Mitchell Mercantile, a smile suffusing Elise's face. Perhaps the prospect of shopping for her baby had put it there, but more likely Doctor Wellman was responsible.

Perhaps it would lead to something. That was fine for Elise, but not what Callie wanted. She'd live her life taking care of her child, giving unwed mothers a home. If a smidgeon of loneliness chaffed on occasion as it did now, she'd follow the advice she'd given Elise and take it one day at a time.

Up the street, Jacob Smith emerged from the Corner
Café and strode toward them, his long legs eating up the distance. Mere steps away, his gaze connected with hers. He gave her a brilliant smile, putting a sudden hitch in her breathing and a wobble in her knees and confirming her worst fear.

No matter how much she told herself she shouldn't, she was attracted to this stranger. His smile might make her feel special, but meant nothing more than a passing interest. These unwanted feelings came from her gratitude to the carpenter for shouldering some of the weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

How could she let a drifter throw her off balance this way? Clearly, the uncertainty of her circumstances and a handsome face had overruled her common sense. When it came to Jacob Smith, Callie questioned if she could trust her judgment.

 

One look at Callie Mitchell, her face glowing in the afternoon sun, and Jake's heart galloped like a racehorse nearing the finish line. The strangest longing twisted inside him, pressing against his lungs. Callie's eyes reflected goodness, warmth, a gentle spirit, everything he admired. What would it be like to have someone like Callie sitting across the breakfast table from him? What would it be like to have someone like Callie to come home to after a hard day's work? What would it be like to have someone like Callie to inquire about the details of his day?

He had no idea. But, oh, how he wanted to find out.

“I, ah, finished the porch.” Like a tongue-tied toddler, he could barely get the words out of his mouth. “Got a hankering for coffee and walked to the café.”

“I'd have made you an entire pot for finishing that porch. But I can't blame you. The café's coffee's the best in town.”

He knew better. “Your brew has the Corner Café beat.”

At his words, her cheeks took on the hue of a summer peach. “Jessie should've made a fresh pot for you. I would have. I'm sorry I wasn't home.”

As the colorless cloak of dusk settled around them, streetlamps flared to life. The clamor of the afternoon had softened to a sigh, leaving a sense of serenity that whispered the town's name. Peaceful. If only it could be for him. But he knew how quickly life could change. He had to be on guard and resist believing in what looked like an idyllic life.

He'd had a reason for coming here, though with that sweet smile on Callie's lips and the lemony scent of her hair, his motive fled his mind.

“Hi, Mr. Smith.”

Jake jerked toward Elise. “I'm sorry, I didn't see you there, Miss Langley.”

Elise giggled, heating Jake's neck like a branding iron.

“Few people miss me these days. I think I know the reason for your poor eyesight,” she said, then glanced at Mrs. Mitchell.

What did a man say to that?

Jake heard footfalls behind him. A man, tall, burly, appearing forged of steel, tipped his hat to the ladies. “Callie, Elise, good to see you.”

“Hello, Hal.” Mrs. Mitchell smiled. “How's Loretta?”

“Strong-minded as usual. If my wife says jump, I jump.”

Mrs. Mitchell's eyes lit with humor. “Better keep that to yourself in an election year. No man's going to cast his vote for a coward.”

“Loretta's the best shot in these parts. That makes me
a mighty brave fellow. Not a man in Peaceful would dare disagree.”

Elise giggled.

He chucked Elise under the chin, and then swung his gaze to Jake, appraising him with one long look. He stuck out a hand. “I'm Hal Frederick, town sheriff.”

The news thudded in Jake's stomach, squelching every thought of Callie from his mind and filling him with foreboding, the familiar tightening in every muscle. “Jake Smith, Sheriff.”

“I've heard the name. Appears you've got some folks fired up, Smith.”

That could only mean one thing. Commodore Mitchell hadn't wasted a minute getting to the law.

Mrs. Mitchell let out a gust. “If you mean my father-in-law—”

“Commodore paid me a visit. As I told him, a town by the name of Peaceful treats our visitors accordingly. That's assuming visitors are the peaceful sort.” The smile never left his face. “How long you planning on staying?”

“Long enough to repair Mrs. Mitchell's house.”

The sheriff nodded. “Glad you're giving Callie a hand.”

Mrs. Mitchell tapped the sheriff on the arm. “Don't forget that you and Loretta are coming to dinner at my house Tuesday evening at six o'clock.”

“Not likely to forget, especially if you're serving pie for dessert. Now that Loretta's bagging rabbit and quail, she's got no interest in rolling dough.”

Callie laughed. “How's apple sound?”

“Like music to my ears.”

“The boys are invited, if they'd like to come.”

“A delicious meal would tempt them but they practice baseball on Tuesdays.”

With the conversation off him, Jake felt his muscles ease and made a mental note to be scarce Tuesday evening.

“Jacob and Elise will join us, I hope.” Callie turned to Jake, her azure eyes full of entreaty, as if his attendance mattered.

He bit back a refusal. Trying to get out of the dinner invitation would look suspicious. He wanted to have as much time with Callie as he could. Not smart but how could he say no to a woman with eyes that blue? “Thanks, I'll be there.”

Mrs. Mitchell's eyes fairly danced with pleasure at the prospect. “It'll be fun.”

The woman loved cooking and helping others. She'd made him feel at home, had cared about his safety. When had anyone ever done that much for him?

The sheriff turned to Jake. “That'll give us a chance to get acquainted.”

How long before the sheriff learned about his past?

Sharing a meal with the law was the last thing Jake wanted to do. But he supposed moving from the stoop to the table proved that Callie Mitchell had begun to trust him. One thing he knew—any pie of hers would be worth the hassle of spending the evening with the sheriff.

“I'll look forward to it, Mrs. Mitchell,” Jake said.

Frederick gave Jake and Callie a speculative glance then strolled on, stopping to chat with the few folks lingering on the street.

“Mrs. Mitchell's too formal for a dinner guest. Please, call me Callie.” She smiled. “Would you mind if I called you Jacob? I love biblical names.”

No one had ever called him Jacob before, but the gentle, dignified sound of it coming off Callie's lips coiled within him. “That's fine, ma'am.”

“My, you make me feel old. Callie, remember?”

“Callie.”

The prospect of spending time with her rippled through him. They'd share a meal around the dining-room table he'd glimpsed from the hall. All the mealtimes in his entire life had been eaten at a row of long tables. Or alone. What would it be like to stick his feet under Callie's table? And pretend for a while that he was part of a family?

Jake glanced up the street. The sheriff stood watching him, dousing his mood faster than a rainstorm quenching a campfire.

Hal Frederick tried to throw a man off with humor, but Jake never doubted the sheriff's competence.

A lawman would have questions.

They always did.

 

Callie awakened at dawn with a knot in her stomach and a prayer on her lips.
Please, God, help people to treat Elise kindly today in church.

Lying in bed expecting trouble wouldn't solve anything. God was in control. She grabbed her robe and headed for the kitchen to prepare food for the basket dinner following service.

By the time Elise plodded into the kitchen, Callie had chicken frying, green beans with ham bubbling on the stove, slaw made and a pie cooling on the counter alongside the stove.

Elise yawned. “Smells good in here. You should've awakened me so I could help.”

“You needed your rest. I made oatmeal.” Callie pointed at the sink. “I'd appreciate your cleaning up the dishes after breakfast.”