A Tailor-Made Husband

Besides, he needed her help, so the sooner he gave her the explanations she wanted, the sooner he could make his request.

The thing was, he’d felt off balance ever since he’d realized Freddie wasn’t coming back. He was certain that was why he’d experienced such an unexpected flood of relief when he spotted Hazel waiting for him on the platform earlier.

At least relief was how he chose to describe what it was he’d felt.

Not that she was hard to spot—she tended to stand out even in a crowd. And it wasn’t just her red hair. As a seamstress she took full advantage of the skill and materials at her disposal. Even though she wore a dark colored dress today, a departure from her usual bright colors, she hadn’t resisted adding what he thought of as “Hazel touches” to it. The elegant bits of ribbon and lace she added to her frocks and the feminine fit were part of her trademark style.

Shaking off those wayward thoughts, Ward took Hazel’s arm and drew her a few feet away from where Meg sat, making sure he could keep an eye on the child in his periphery. Ignoring the familiar scent of orange blossoms that always seemed to cling to her, Ward launched immediately into a quick explanation. “I know you have a lot of questions, but there’s not really much to say right now. The short version is that Meg and her brother boarded the train a few stops past mine, then the brother slipped away at the very next stop, abandoning his sister. I’m looking out for Meg until I figure out what to do with her.”

Hazel’s eyes widened and he saw the genuine sympathy reflected there. “Oh my goodness. That poor baby.” She glanced toward Meg. “How awful for her. I hate to contemplate what could have happened if you hadn’t been the one to take charge of her. But how—”

He raised a hand to stem the flow of words. “I’ll answer all your questions, or at least tell you as much as I know, after the funeral.”

“Of course.” She bit her lip a moment. “You called her Half-pint,” she said softly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling unaccountably self-conscious. What was wrong with him? “It sort of slipped out the first time.” He shrugged. “It’s just a silly nickname.” But they both knew it was more than that.

Hazel studied Meg thoughtfully. “She does favor Bethany just a little.”

“So you see it too.”

Hazel nodded. “I think it’s the freckles and pigtails.” Then she turned and gave him a probing look. “But she’s not Bethany.”

Did she think he was being overly sentimental? “Of course not.” Then he quickly changed the subject. “Is everything in place for the funeral?”

Her raised brow said quite clearly that she knew he was avoiding the subject. But she followed his lead. “Yes. Reverend Harper will preside at a graveside service at one o’clock, just as you requested.”

Before he could say more than a quick thank-you, they were interrupted.

“Sheriff Gleason, glad to have you back in town.”

Both he and Hazel turned at the hail.

Ward straightened when he realized it was Mayor Sanders. The man wouldn’t be here unless there was town business to discuss.

Hazel spoke up first. “Good day, Mayor. Are you here to meet someone?”

Ward was surprised to hear a slightly confrontational tone in her voice. Was she at odds with the mayor over something? That thought brought out his protective urges.

“Actually, I came to see Ward.” The mayor tugged on the cuff of his shirt. “Official town business.”

She pursed her lips. “Surely whatever you have to discuss can wait. Sheriff Gleason just returned from his sister’s deathbed. And now he has to get ready for her funeral.”

He relaxed, realizing she’d gotten her back up on his behalf. She was certainly a magnificent sight when she got riled up, all flashing eyes, ruddy cheeks and battle-ready posture. But in this instance her well-intentioned interference was unnecessary. This was his job. “I assume there was some kind of trouble while I was gone?”

The mayor turned from Hazel back to him with a relieved nod. “I’m afraid so. There’s been another incident and it’s likely the same scoundrel who hit the Lawrences’ and the Carsons’ places. Only this time they’ve moved right into the heart of town.”

Hazel spoke up again, her foot tapping impatiently. “Pardon me, gentlemen, but this seems to be a discussion that can wait until after the funeral.”

Mayor Sanders shot her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I certainly don’t expect the sheriff to do anything about this today. But I wanted him to hear about it straight away in case he runs into some talk or complaints from other townsfolk.”

“Quite right.” Ward gave Hazel a firm, not-your-business look before he turned back to the man who was, in effect, his boss. “Let’s go to my office so you can fill me in on the details.” Then he hesitated, looking over at Meg, remembering he wasn’t as unencumbered as he’d once been.

He shifted his gaze to Hazel, hoping she could read his unspoken request.

And of course she did. Taking her cue, Hazel smiled down at the child. “Meg, why don’t you come with me while Sheriff Gleason and Mayor Sanders take care of a little business?”

But Meg popped up from the bench and clutched at Ward, her eyes wide with apprehension. Poor Half-pint, being abandoned by her brother had obviously made her anxious about any hint of being cast aside again.

As usual, Hazel rose to the challenge. Without further prodding from him she stooped down to get on eye level with Half-pint. “We can take Chessie and Pugs with us too. And I’ll introduce all of you to Buttons.”

“Who’s Buttons?”

Hazel’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe Meg didn’t already know. “Why, Buttons is just the prettiest and smartest cat you’ve ever seen.”

Ward refrained from rolling his eyes at that clearly overblown description and placed a hand on the child’s head, trying to reassure her. “It’ll be okay, Half-pint, it’s just for a little while.” Wasn’t that the same promise Freddie had made to her? “I’ll come on by to get you later on my way to the funeral.”

Ward ignored the startled look on the mayor’s face—a sign of what he could expect from his fellow townsfolk over the coming days, no doubt—and turned to Hazel. “Thank you,” he said, touching her arm. “I’ll come by the dress shop as soon as I’m able.”

She nodded, her eyes widening slightly. He pulled his hand away quickly, wondering if she’d felt that same spark of awareness.

What was wrong with him?

She recovered quickly and her eyes flashed a warning. “Then we’re going to talk.”

“Of course.”

He watched as she bent to pick up Pugs. Then she took Meg’s hand with her free one and began regaling the little girl with tales of her cat’s exploits.

Once again Hazel had stepped in to help without the least hesitation. Strange how he’d gotten used to always having her to count on. And she never let him down.

Then, shaking off thoughts of the usually-flamboyant-but-always-dependable seamstress, he shifted into his businesslike frame of mind and turned back to the mayor. “Let’s go over to my office and you can give me the details.”

* * *

As Hazel led the child away from the station she silently chided herself for that unguarded reaction to Ward’s touch. Hopefully she’d recovered quickly enough so that he hadn’t noticed.

Pushing those unwanted thoughts aside, she turned her focus to the little girl at her side. It was so like Ward to take personal responsibility for a lost child’s welfare. He could have turned Meg over to the sheriff in Kittering. Or contacted a children’s asylum. Or done any one of a dozen other things that would have shifted responsibility for the little girl to someone else. And no one would have thought any less of him if he had, especially given the mournful errand he was on.

But that wasn’t his way.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself falling for the overly serious, secretly tender-hearted sheriff all over again. And she had to guard her heart against that, at all costs. She’d made her decision to leave and she couldn’t let sentiment hold her back now. It had become painfully obvious to her that there was no future for her in Turnabout, either financially or emotionally.

Because, by her reckoning, if nothing changed to bring customers into her shop, she’d be out of funds in about three months.

This was for the best, no matter how difficult taking that first step would be.

“Is it very far?”

Meg’s question drew Hazel’s thoughts back to the present. She’d planned an impromptu stop as a treat for the little girl, but she realized Meg looked sleepy. “Actually, I thought we’d make one stop along the way, but if you’d rather go straight to my place we can do it another time.”

“Where do you want to stop?”

“There’s a little shop called The Blue Bottle, where they sell the most delicious sweets. They also have a selection of wonderful wooden toys. Would you like to visit there?”

Meg’s face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. And Chessie would like it too.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. And since you’re probably tired from that long trip, I’ll let you pick out whichever sweet you like.”

“Can we get one for Sheriff Gleason too? He’s tired from the trip too.”

Hazel looked at the child’s earnest expression and her heart melted a little more. Meg really had developed an attachment to Ward. “I think that’s a splendid idea.”

How could this sweet child’s brother have just abandoned her? There had to be more to this story than what Ward had told her in those few seconds. Surely it was some dreadful mistake and Meg’s brother would come looking for her soon. To believe otherwise was just too sad to contemplate. And if she knew Ward, he wouldn’t rest until Meg’s situation was put to rights.

But if the brief time she’d spent with Meg was any indication, if and when the brother returned, it might be difficult for the sheriff and the little girl to part ways.

* * *

Ward sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office, waving Mayor Sanders to the chair in front of him. He had hoped the string of incidents—part vandalism, part schoolboy pranks—plaguing the community had run their course and things would have settled down by the time he returned, but from the sounds of things, that wasn’t the case.

Before Ward had gotten word of his sister’s passing, there had been several incidents that seemed the work of overzealous mischief-makers. The hooligans had visited Enoch Lawrence’s place three times, trampling the garden, splattering paint, stealing laundry from the clothesline. Then they’d moved to a neighboring farm, opening the paddock gate and letting Saul Carson’s horses out, causing the rancher to lose a full day rounding them back up.

The one rather vague eyewitness account he’d gotten had come from Enoch’s daughter Hortense, who said she thought she caught a glimpse of two youths racing away after one of the incidents. All of which led him to believe it was the work of rambunctious kids who’d gone overboard with their pranks. But that didn’t make it any less unlawful and when he caught the culprits they would be dealt with severely.

“So let’s have it,” he said to the mayor.

“Last night someone broke a window in the back of the mercantile, pulled some of the canned goods from the shelves and took fistfuls of rock candy from the display case.”

It was sounding more and more like some fool kids with too much time on their hands. But they were getting much braver and more criminal with each incident. “You keep saying they. Do we have any idea how many?”

“No, in fact, no one’s seen anything since Enoch’s daughter reported what she saw. I’m just assuming it’s the same culprits.” He rubbed his chin. “There’s some as think it was the Lytle boys, though no one can agree which ones.”

Elmer and Orson Lytle were cousins but there’d been hard feelings between them for years. He wasn’t sure even they remembered the reasons anymore. Both men had two sons who were unfortunately beginning to follow in the footsteps of their fathers.

“Why the Lytle boys?”

“You mean besides the fact that they’re wilder than badgers and twice as ornery? The four of them started a brawl in the middle of the mercantile. Doug had to throw them out for disrupting his business and they were none too happy about it.”

“That’s not really proof that they’re the ones who broke into the place.” Though it sure gave them a strong motive.

The mayor shrugged. “Of course you should do your own investigating. I’m just letting you know what folks are saying.”

Then he gave Ward a pointed look. “The main thing you need to keep in mind is, folks are getting really stirred up about this, demanding something be done.” He grabbed the edges of his coat and gave them a tug. “And quite frankly, I agree with them. I know this isn’t a good time for you, what with your sister’s passing and all. But it may mean some extra patrols and late-night vigils from you until the perpetrator is caught.”

There was the hint of a warning in those words.

Ward wasn’t opposed to putting in extra hours to catch these lawbreakers; it was his job after all. But what did that mean for his ability to look out for Meg?

The mayor gave him a calculating look. “Not to pry into your personal business, but that little girl you had with you at the train station...”

He paused a minute as if expecting Ward to fill in the blanks. But Ward refused to make this easy for him and held his peace.

After a moment of awkward silence, the man continued. “Mind if I ask where she’s going to be staying while she’s here?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet.” Ward met the man’s gaze steadily, daring him to say anything else on the subject. While looking after Half-pint might not be part of his job, it was definitely a responsibility he felt strongly about. He hoped he wasn’t going to be put in the position of having to choose between the two duties.

Finally, Mayor Sanders nodded and took his leave.

Ward remained at his desk, fatigue dragging at him like an anvil. He hadn’t slept well since he’d received word of Bethany’s passing, and it was all starting to catch up with him.

The news of the break-in at the mercantile had only added to that feeling of bone-tired weariness.

Ward pushed away from his desk, mentally throwing up his hands. It was time to get ready for the funeral and nothing was going to make him late for that. He hadn’t been there to escort Bethany’s remains on the last leg of her trip home. Sure as the sun came up in the morning, he would be there to see her laid to rest.

As he walked the short distance to his house, a small structure next door to the sheriff’s office, he wondered how Hazel and Meg had fared. He had to admit, for all Hazel’s unorthodox ways, it was good to know he had someone like her whom he could count on to help out in a pinch.

Sometimes it felt as if he were taking advantage of the warmer feelings she had for him, especially since he didn’t return those feelings. But then again, he’d never led her on or gave her reason to think he considered her anything more than a friend. Better if they both just looked at it as one neighbor helping another.

Maybe she’d have some idea of what he should do about this whole unexpected situation with Meg. After all, Hazel’s mind seemed to work in ways he’d never been able to fathom—she might see something he was missing.

Could he impose on her to take in the little girl until the matter was resolved? He certainly couldn’t keep Meg at his place—if for no other reason than that his cramped living quarters weren’t a fit place to house a little girl.

But first he’d have to answer Hazel’s questions about Meg’s situation.

It didn’t take him long to get cleaned up. He pulled out his Sunday suit and paid meticulous attention to how he dressed. He would do his sister proud today.

As he pulled on his freshly shined boots, he glanced toward his bed. It would be so good to lie down for just a few minutes but he resisted the temptation. If he lay down now, he might not get back up until tomorrow morning.

Besides, Hazel and Meg would be waiting for him.

When he reached the dress shop he was surprised to see Hazel had the Closed sign in the front window. His conscience niggled at him. Was it in honor of Bethany’s funeral? Or because he’d taken advantage of her generosity and left Meg in her care?

He’d just raised his hand to knock when the shop door opened and Hazel and Meg stepped out.

The dark blue—nearly black—dress Hazel wore should have looked severe on her. But somehow it didn’t. Instead it highlighted the coppery gold of her hair and set off her green eyes to perfection. And her smile, as always, softened her sharp features. It was a mystery to him why some other bachelor hadn’t claimed her hand by now. Seeing her with Meg drove home just how suited she was to be a wife and mother. If only he was the settling-down sort—

Better he not let his thoughts go there.

Before he could greet them, Meg rushed over and hugged his leg. “Sheriff Gleason! You came back!”

The strength of relief and delight in the little girl’s voice caught him off guard. His anger toward her brother resurfaced. It was wrong that such a young child should be made to worry about being abandoned.

“Of course I came back, Half-pint. I told you I was going to look out for you.”

“Miss Hazel and I got this for you,” she said, holding out a small parchment-wrapped parcel. “It’s a piece of brittle. I had one, too, and it’s very good.”

“Why, thank you.” He turned to Hazel. “Both of you.”

Hazel nodded. “You’re welcome. But it was all Meg’s idea.”

Meg cast a worried look at the closed door. “Do you think Pugs and Buttons will be okay while we’re gone?”

“Absolutely.” Hazel slid the key in her pocket. “Buttons will simply find a shelf or tabletop to settle on if Pugs gets too rambunctious.”

Meg turned back to him. “Buttons didn’t seem to like Pugs very much. But Miss Hazel says that they’re gonna learn to be friends.”

He took her hand. “Well let’s hope Miss Hazel is right, shall we?”

As they walked down the sidewalk with a happily chattering Meg between them, Ward found his thoughts turning to the funeral service that lay ahead. Thoughts and emotions he’d been able to hold at bay while dealing with Meg’s tumble into his life were trying to break free. His sister’s life, such as it had been, was over and she was at peace now.

He mourned her passing and he mourned that he’d never been able to make things up to her. His guilt was still there, coloring all those other feelings, and it was only made worse by the faint but real undercurrent of relief he felt at her passing.

Ward cleared his throat, trying to refocus his thoughts. “I want to thank you again for taking care of all the funeral arrangements. I know that was a lot of work to drop in your lap.”

Hazel’s expression softened. “You’re more than welcome. I was honored to be able to do this for Bethany.”

Would she be up to doing him one more very large favor? Having her take Meg in until he could come up with a more permanent solution for the little girl seemed an ideal solution, at least from his perspective. There was no one he’d trust with Half-pint more. And she, of all people, would likely agree that he wasn’t the best caretaker for a child. After all, she’d been there when Bethany had had her accident, the day everything changed.

When they reached the churchyard Ward could see the small crowd gathered for the funeral. He was surprised by how many were there—he hadn’t realized so many people remembered his sister.

As they reached the graveside, he steeled himself once more against the flood of emotions threatening to break free. He knew his sister was in a better place now, but the guilt he felt for having made her last twelve years in this world so troubled was something he’d never be able to forgive himself for.

He tried to focus on something other than the yawning hole in the ground. Jacob White stood to one side, softly playing his fiddle—a hymn that Ward couldn’t quite place. There were flowers on the closed casket—mostly irises, which had been Bethany’s favorite. He had no doubt Hazel was responsible for those little personal touches. He would have to remember to thank her again later.

Hazel stayed at his side during the service, which seemed fitting. She was almost as much family to his sister as he had been. And there was no one in his life he felt closer to.

Throughout it all, he maintained a rigid control over his own expression, not daring to look anywhere but at the casket and that yawning hole in the ground that lay waiting to swallow up what was left of his little sister’s earthly remains.

Reverend Harper, who had known Bethany before her accident, gave a touchingly personal eulogy. The words of God’s love and promise of everlasting life were a balm to his own troubled spirit.

Once the service ended, Hazel touched his arm for a moment, the gesture oddly consoling. Then she withdrew with a restless Meg to one of the benches that were tucked under an ancient oak near the edge of the cemetery.

Strange how he missed the comfort of her presence.

As the mourners disbanded, many of them paused to offer condolences. Among them were Enoch Lawrence and his daughter, Hortense. Enoch’s voice was overly loud and gruff as he assured Ward he would hold him in his prayers. The man’s hearing loss seemed to be getting worse by the day and he compensated by raising the volume of his own voice.

Then Hortense, or Tensy as she preferred to be called, spoke up, her eyes moist with emotion. “It was a lovely service,” she said. “Just the sort your sister would have wanted.”

Tensy was closer in age to him than his sister, so the words were probably mere platitudes, but he appreciated the thought. “Thank you, I believe she would have as well.”

“Please, if there is anything at all I can do for you over the coming weeks, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you.” He’d received many such offers today. While he was certain they were all sincerely meant, he didn’t intend to take anyone up on them.

After all, what could anyone do to ease his guilt?

Chapter Three

Hazel helped Meg hop up on the sturdy but worn bench. Meg had been remarkably well behaved during the service, fidgeting much less than Hazel had anticipated, but by the end it had been clear she needed something to distract her.

It warmed Hazel’s heart to see so many folks gathered for the service. Did Ward realize they were all there to support him?

The soft strains of “What a Friend We Have In Jesus,” Bethany’s favorite hymn, had added an air of reverent sweetness to the gathering. Had Ward felt it too?

But she could tell that he’d withdrawn into himself. There was an air of rigid control about him, as if he were trying to hold back some unwanted emotion. It was his way, of course. But she couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have done some good for him to mourn outwardly as well.

What was he feeling? Grief, of course—but there was more to it than that. Guilt? Sorrow for what could have been? A touch of relief that his sister was at peace now? Probably a combination of all of them. She knew because she felt some of that as well.

Meg swung her legs and chattered away to her doll, pointing out a squirrel scampering up a tree, a butterfly flittering around and any number of other things that caught her eye.

Earlier, when the three of them had walked through town, Hazel had imagined that they must look the very picture of a happy family. Oh, how she wished that were true.

But she had to stop thinking like that. She looked around and realized she and Meg were on the receiving end of a number of curious glances but thankfully no one approached them. She had no answers to give them where Meg was concerned.

The questions she had about just who Meg was and what the future had in store for the little girl were growing. Could Ward really find Meg’s brother if the youth didn’t want to be found?