- -
- 100%
- +
Callie moved as close to the silent child as she felt comfortable doing. “Hi, Nattie. I’ve heard nice things about you from your daddy. I brought you a present.”
She detected a slight movement in the child’s body at the word present. Hoping she’d piqued Nattie’s interest, she opened her large shoulder bag and pulled out the books wrapped in colorful tissue and tied with a ribbon. “Here.” She extended her hand holding the books.
Nattie didn’t move, but sat with her arms bound to her knees.
Stepping forward, Callie placed the package by the child’s feet and backed away. She glanced at David. His gaze was riveted to his daughter.
He took a step forward and rested his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Nattie, how about if you open the present?”
The child glanced at him, but made no move to respond.
David squeezed his large frame into the end of the window seat. He lifted the gift from the bench and raised it toward her.
She eyed the package momentarily, but then lowered her lids again, staring through the window as if they weren’t there.
Frustration rose in Callie. The child’s behavior startled her. A list of childhood illnesses raced through her mind. Then other thoughts took their place. How did Sara die? Was the child present at her death? Questions swirled in her thoughts. What might have happened in the past to trouble this silent child sitting rigidly on the window seat?
David relaxed and placed the package on his knees. “I’ll open the gift for you, then, if you’d like.” Tearing the paper from the gift, he lifted the books one by one, turning the colorful covers toward her. “‘The Lost Lamb,”’ he read, showing her the book.
Callie looked at the forlorn child and the book cover. If ever there were a lost lamb, it was Nattie. The next book he showed her was a child’s New Testament in story form, and the last, children’s poems. Nattie glanced at the book covers, a short-lived spark of interest on her face.
David placed the books again by her feet and rose, his face tormented. Callie glanced at him and gestured to the window seat. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head, and she wandered slowly to the vacated spot and nestled comfortably in the corner. “I think I’d like to read this one,” Callie said, selecting “The Lost Lamb,” “if you don’t mind.” The child made no response. Callie searched David’s face, but he seemed lost in thought.
Leaning back, Callie braced herself against the wall next to the window and opened the book. She glanced at Nattie, who eyed her without moving, and began to read. “‘Oh my,’ said Rebecca to her father, ‘where is the new lamb?’ Father looked into the pasture. The baby lamb was not in sight.”
Callie directed the bright picture toward Nattie, who scanned the page, then returned her attention to her shoes. Callie continued. Nattie glimpsed at each picture without reaction. But, the child’s minimal interest gave Callie hope. Patience, perseverance, attention, love—Callie would need all of those attributes if she were to work with this lost lamb.
Glancing from the book, she caught David easing quietly through the doorway. The story gained momentum, as Rebecca and her father searched the barnyard and the wooded hills for the stray. When they found the lamb, who had stumbled into a deep hole, Nattie’s eyes finally stayed attentive to the page. When the lamb was again in Rebecca’s arms, Callie heard a soft breath escape the child at her side. Nattie had, at least, listened to the story. A first success.
“That was a wonderful story, wasn’t it? Sometimes when we feel so alone or afraid, we can remember that Jesus is always by our side to protect us, just like Rebecca protected the lamb. I love stories like that one, don’t you?” Callie rose. “Well, I have to go now, Nattie. But I hope to be back soon to read more stories with you.”
She lay the book next to Nattie and gently caressed the child’s jonquil-colored hair. Nattie’s gaze lifted for a heartbeat, but this time when she lowered her eyes, she fastened her attention on the book.
Callie swallowed her building emotions and hurried from the room. She made her way down the stairs, and at the bottom, filled her lungs with refreshing air. When she released the healing breath, her body trembled.
“Thank you.”
Callie’s hand flew to her chest, she gasped and swung to her left. “Oh, you scared me.”
David stood in the doorway across from the parlor where they had met. “You did a beautiful thing.”
“She’s a beautiful child, Mr. Hamilton. She breaks my heart, so I can only imagine how she breaks yours.”
“Call me David, please. If we’re going to live in the same house, ‘Callie’ and ‘David’ will sound less formal.”
She faltered, her hand still knotted at her chest. If we’re going to live in the same house. The meaning of his words registered, and she closed her eyes. He was asking her to stay. Could she? Would the experience break her heart once more? But suddenly, her own pain didn’t matter. Her only thought was for the child sitting alone in an upstairs room.
Callie stepped toward him. “Yes, if we’re going to live in the same house, I suppose you’re right… David. The ‘David’ will take some doing,” she admitted with a faint grin.
He extended his hand. “I pray you’ll make a difference in Nattie’s life. In our lives, really. I see already you’re a compassionate woman. I can ask for no more.”
Callie accepted his hand in a firm clasp. “I hope you’ll continue to feel like that.” She eyed him, a knowing expression creeping on her face. “You’ve already seen me with my dander up, as they say.” Her hand remained in his.
“Then we have nothing to worry about. I survived.”
“Yes, you did. And quite admirably. Thank you for trusting in my…youthful abilities.”
His hazel eyes captured hers and held her suspended until his words broke the spell. “It’s my pleasure.”
Callie gazed around her childhood bedroom, facing a new and frightening chapter in her life. Five times she had packed, heading for a patient’s home. But tomorrow was different.
Nattie appeared in her mind, the child’s face as empty of feeling as Callie’s would be when she stepped into David Hamilton’s home in Bedford. He was the last person she wanted to have know the fear that writhed inside her. She would step through the doorway with a charade of confidence. She had announced with no uncertainty that she could provide professional, compassionate care for Nattie. And she would.
The sound of Grace’s unhappy voice echoed in Callie’s head. “Bedford is too far away. Why must you be a live-in nurse? What if I need you? Dr. Swanson, right here in town, still needs an office nurse.” She’d heard the same questions and comments since she chose home-care. Tomorrow, another day—a new beginning.
Though she hadn’t finished packing, Callie’s thoughts dragged through her, sapping her energy. A good night’s sleep would refresh her, she thought. With that notion, she crawled into bed.
But Callie couldn’t escape her dream. It soon rose in her slumber, shrouded in darkness and mist.
In a foggy blur, his stare toyed with her, sweeping her body from head to toe, and her flush of excitement deepened to embarrassment. His smooth voice like a distant whisper echoed in her head. “Callie. That’s a lovely, lovely name. Nearly pretty as you are, sweetheart.”
An uneasy sensation rose in her, unexpected and unnatural. Why was he teasing her with his eyes? She felt self-conscious.
In the swirling darkness, he flashed his broad, charming smile, and his hushed voice touched her ear again. “You’re nervous. No need to be nervous.” He turned the bolt on the door.
The click of the lock cut through her sleep. Callie wrested herself from the blackness of her dream to the darkness of her room.
“Bedford’s only a couple hours away, Mom. I told you already, I can get back here if you need me.” Packing the last suitcase the next morning, Callie glanced over her shoulder at Grace. “I don’t understand why you’re worried. You’ve never needed me yet.”
Grace leaned against the door frame. “Well, I get older every year. You never know.” Grace’s pinched expression gave witness to her unhappiness.
Callie bit back the words that could easily have sailed from her lips: Only the good die young. Her mother was well-meaning, she knew that, but Callie found a chip growing on her shoulder when she spent too much time with Grace. She needed to keep that situation in her prayers—only God could work a miracle.
Callie chuckled out loud. “We have the same problem, Mom. I seem to get older every year myself. Any idea how we can fix that?”
Grace’s compressed features gave way to a grin. “Can’t do much, I suppose. I just worry. Your sister lives thousands of miles away. Kenneth is useless. Sons don’t care much about their mothers.”
“If you need Ken, he can be here in a minute. But you have to call him and let him know. Men just aren’t as attentive as women.” Guilt swept over her. She hadn’t been very attentive, either. And Grace was right—though she wasn’t ready for the grave, they had celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday. And no one was getting any younger.
A sudden feeling of tenderness swept over her. She was her parents’ “surprise” baby. At the age of forty, Grace had her “babies” raised. Patricia was fourteen, and Ken, eleven. Then came Callie, who was soon deemed the “little princess.” All her parents’ unfulfilled hopes and dreams were bundled into her. She had let them down with a bang.
A heavy silence hung in the room as Callie placed the last few items in her luggage. When she snapped the locks, she turned and faced her mother. “Well, I guess that’s it. I may need a few other things, but I’m not that far away. And at this point, I’m not sure how long I’ll be needed.”
The words caught in her throat. Already, the face of Nattie loomed in her mind. Her greatest fear was beginning to take shape. This child would continue to linger in her thoughts when her job was completed in Bedford. And could she walk away from another child? She prayed she could handle it.
Grace stood at the doorway, her hands knotted in front of her. “You’ll be coming back occasionally? So I’ll see you once in a while, then?”
“Well, sure. I’m not chained to the house. At least, I don’t think so.” She grinned at Grace, trying to keep her parting light. Most of her previous patients had lived in the area. Living in Bedford would make trips home a bit more complicated.
Grace heaved a sigh and lifted her smaller bag. Callie grabbed the larger piece of luggage and followed her mother down the stairs and out the door.
As Callie loaded her car, she shuddered, thinking of her dream the night before. She drew the chilled, winter air through her lungs, clearing her thoughts. She stood for a moment, staring at the house where her parents had lived for most of her life, remembering…
When she returned inside, Grace had lunch waiting on the table. Seeing the food as another attempt to delay her, Callie wanted to say “no, thank you,” but she had to eat somewhere. Noting her mother’s forlorn expression, she sat at the table.
“Thanks, this will save time. I should arrive in Bedford in the mid-afternoon, if the weather cooperates. I’ll have a chance to get settled before dinner.” She bit into her sandwich.
Grace raised the tuna salad to her lips, then lowered it. “Are you sure you’re safe with this man, Callie? He saw your references, but did you see his?”
Callie understood her mother’s concern. “I think seeing his daughter is reference enough. He’s not an outgoing, friendly man. I saw so much sadness in his eyes. Anyway, he has a full-time housekeeper who lives in. She looked comfortable enough. Though once I’m there, I imagine she’ll enjoy having the opportunity to go home.” Callie sipped her tea.
“You mean you have to keep house, too?”
Callie choked on her sip of tea. She quickly grabbed up her napkin to cover her mouth. “No, Mother. Agnes is from the community. She’ll be able to go home and visit her family. Since I’m there, she won’t have the responsibility to be the nanny. That’s all. He says I’ll have my own suite of rooms—bedroom, private bath and a little sitting room. And I’ll have dinner with the family. Now, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “What kind of business is this man in to afford such a big home and all this help?”
“Limestone quarries and mills. They’ve been in the family for generations. His grandfather opened a quarry in the middle eighteen-hundreds, I think. Eventually his father took over.”
“Family business, hmm? Must be a good one to keep generations at it.”
“It is. I was really amazed. I picked up some brochures at the Chamber of Commerce office on my way out of town. So many famous buildings were made with Indiana limestone—the Pentagon, the Empire State Building, lots of buildings in Washington, D.C. So I’d say the family has enough money to get by.”
Grace grinned. “To get by? I’d say. One of those aristocratic families…with money to throw away.”
“Not really. It’s a beautiful house, but David seems down to earth.”
“David? What’s this ‘David’ business?”
“Mother.” Callie rolled her eyes, yet heat rose up her neck at her mother’s scrutiny. “Since we’re living in the same house, I suppose he thought ‘Miss Randolph’ and ‘Mr. Hamilton’ sounded too formal.”
“A little formality never hurt anybody.”
“I’m an employee, Mom. And he has no interest in me. The man’s not over the death of his wife.”
“Accident?”
Callie’s brows knitted. “I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I’d already asked too many questions for someone who was supposed to be the person interviewed.”
“Never hurts to ask questions.”
“I’m sure I’ll find out one of these days. And I don’t expect to be with him much. Mainly dinner. He’ll be gone some of the time, traveling for his business. I’m there to be with Natalie. Nattie, they call her. She’s a beautiful child.”
“Just keep your eyes focused on the child, hear me?”
Callie shook her head. “Yes, Mother. I think I’ve learned to take care of myself.”
She caught a flicker of reminiscence in Grace’s expression, and froze, praying she wouldn’t stir up the past. Grace bit her tongue, and Callie changed the subject.
“The area is lovely there, all covered with snow. And imagine spring. The trees and wildflowers. And autumn. The colored leaves—elms, maples, birches.”
An uneasy feeling rippled down her back. Would she see the autumn colors? Nattie needed to be ready for school. If the child was back to normal by then, her job would be finished.
“It’s snowing,” Grace said, pulling Callie from her thoughts. “And hard.”
“Then, I’d better get moving.” Callie gulped down her last bite and drained the teacup.
Without fanfare, she slipped on her coat and said goodbye. She needed to be on her way before she was snowbound. Time was fleeting, and so was her sanity.
Chapter Five
David sat with his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his large cherry wood desk. The day pressed in from all sides. Callie should arrive any time now. He’d expected her earlier, yet the uncooperative weather had apparently slowed her travel.
The day of her interview lingered in his memory. Though Nattie had responded minimally to Callie’s ministrations, David was grateful for the most insignificant flicker of interest from his daughter these days. Callie had brought about that infinitesimal moment.
The major concern that lodged in his gut was himself. He feared Callie. She stirred in him remembrances he didn’t want to face and emotions he had avoided for two years. His only solution was to avoid her—keep his distance.
Though often quiet, Sara had had her moments of liveliness and laughter. He recalled their spring walks on the hill and a warm, sunny day filled with play when she dubbed him “Sir Knight” with a daisy chain she’d made. Wonderful moments rose in his mind of Sara playing pat-a-cake with Nattie or singing children’s songs.
If he let Callie’s smiles and exuberance get under his skin, he might find himself emotionally tangled. Until Nattie was well, and he dealt with his personal sorrow, he had no interest in any kind of relationship—and he would live with that decision. But he wished wisdom had been his gatekeeper when he’d extended her the job with such enthusiasm.
On top of it all, today they would celebrate Nattie’s sixth birthday. Tension caught between his shoulder blades when he pictured the occasion: a cake with candles she wouldn’t blow out, gifts she wouldn’t open, and joy she wouldn’t feel.
David was reminded of the day Sara had surprised him for his birthday with tickets to see Shakespeare’s darkest, direst play, King Lear. Yet, he’d accompanied her, looking pleased and interested so as not to hurt the woman he loved so deeply.
But Nattie would not look interested to please him. She wouldn’t say “thank you” or force a smile. The lack of response for the gift was not what hurt. She appeared to feel nothing, and that tore at his very fiber.
His wife’s death had been no surprise; Nattie’s living death was.
Rising from his chair, David wandered to the window and pulled back the draperies. The snow piled against the hedges and mounded against the edge of the driveway. Lovely, pure white at this moment, the snow would soon become drab and monotonous like his life.
A flash of headlights caught the mounds of crystal flakes and glowed with diamond-like sparkles. David’s heart surged, and for a heartbeat, he held his breath. Dropping the edge of the drapery, he spun toward the doorway. She would need help bringing in her luggage. He could, at least, do that.
Callie climbed the snow-covered stairs with care and rang the bell. When the door opened, her stomach somersaulted. Her focus fell upon David Hamilton, rather than Agnes. “Oh,” she said, knowing her face registered surprise, “I expected Agnes.” Her amazement was not so much at seeing him at the door as feeling her stomach’s unexpected acrobatics.
“I was keeping an eye out for you, concerned about the weather.” His face appeared drawn and serious.
“Thank you. The drive was a bit tense.”
He stepped back and held the door open for her.
She glanced at his darkened face. “I hope nothing is wrong. You look…” Immediately she was sorry she had spoken. Perhaps his stressed appearance had to do with her—hiring someone “so young,” as he had continually reminded her.
“I’m fine,” he said, looking past her toward the automobile. “Let me get my jacket, and we can bring in your luggage.”
He darted to the entrance closet, and in a brief moment, joined her.
Heading down the slippery porch stairs, Callie’s eyes filled with his Titan stature. In her preoccupation, her foot missed the center of the step and skidded out from under her. She crumpled backward, reaching out to break her fall.
David flung his hand behind her and caught her in the crook of his arm, while the other hand swung around to hold her secure. “Careful,” he cautioned.
Captured in his arms, his gaze locked with hers, she wavered at the sensation that charged through her. She marveled at his vibrant hazel eyes in the dusky light.
“Be careful. You could get hurt,” he repeated, setting her on her feet.
She found her voice and mumbled a “thank you.”
Capturing her elbow, he helped her down the next two steps. When she opened the trunk, he scanned its contents.
“I’ll help you in with the luggage,” he said, “and I’ll come back for the rest.”
She nodded. Hearing his commanding voice, she couldn’t disagree. He handed her the smallest case, taking the larger himself, and they climbed the steps with care.
Once inside, David set down the larger case and addressed Agnes, who was waiting in the foyer. “Show Callie her rooms, please. I’ll carry in the boxes and bring them up.”
Agnes nodded and grabbed the larger case. But when David stepped outside, Callie took the case from her. “Please, let me carry this one. It’s terribly heavy.”
Agnes didn’t argue and grasped the smaller case, then headed up the stairs. At the top, the housekeeper walked down the hallway and stopped at a door to the left, across from Nattie’s room. She turned the knob and stepped aside.
As Callie entered, her heart skipped a beat. She stood in the tower she had admired from outside. The sitting room was fitted with a floral chintz love seat and matching chair of vibrant pinks and soft greens, with a lamp table separating the grouping. A small oak desk sat along one curved wall, and oak bookshelves rose nearby. A woman’s touch was evident in the lovely decor.
Callie dropped her luggage and darted to the center window, pulling back the sheer white curtains framed by moss-colored draperies. She gazed outside at the scene. A light snow floated past the window, and below, David pulled the last carton from the trunk and closed the lid. He hefted the box into the air, then disappeared beneath the porch roof.
Agnes remained by the door, and when Callie turned back and faced the room, the housekeeper gestured through the doorway to the bedroom. Callie lifted her luggage and followed her inside. The modest bedroom, too, illustrated a feminine hand. Delicate pastel flowers sprinkled the wallpaper that ended at the chair-molding. Below, the color of palest blue met a deeper blue carpet.
“Agnes, this is beautiful.” She wanted to ply the woman with questions about Sara and how she used the charming rooms.
“Mr. Hamilton hoped you’d like it.”
“How could I not? It’s lovely. So dainty and feminine.”
Agnes nodded and directed her to a door that opened to a walk-in closet; across the room, another door led to a pristine private bathroom, graced by a claw-foot bathtub.
As she spun around to take in the room once again, David came through the doorway with the box.
“Bricks?” he asked.
“Nearly. Books and things.”
“Ah, I should have guessed. Then you’d like this in the sitting room.”
“Please.” Callie followed him through the doorway.
David placed the box between the desk and the bookshelves. “I’ll be right back with the other. Much lighter, I’m happy to say.”
Callie grinned. “No books.”
He left the room, and she returned to Agnes, who hovered in the doorway.
“Miss Randolph, did you want me to help unpack your things?”
“Oh, no, Agnes, I can get it. And please call me Callie. The ‘Miss’ stuff makes me nervous.” She gave the woman a pleasant look, but received only a nod in return.
“Then I’ll get back to the kitchen,” Agnes said as she edged her way to the door.
“Yes, thank you.”
Agnes missed David by a hairbreadth as he came through the doorway with the last box. He held it and glanced at Callie.
“Bedroom,” Callie said, before he asked, and she gestured to the adjoining room.
David turned with his burden and vanished through the doorway. Before she could follow, he returned. “So, I hope you’ll be comfortable here. I still want to get a television for you. But you do have a radio.”
Callie’s focus followed the direction of his hand. A small clock radio sat on the desk. “The rooms are lovely. Just beautiful. Did your wif—Sara decorate them? They have a woman’s touch.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head at the sitting room. “She used this as her reading room, and she slept here if she worried about Nattie’s health. The bedroom was the baby’s nursery then.”
“I couldn’t ask for a nicer place to stay. Thank you.”
He glanced around him, edging backward toward the door, his hands moving nervously at his sides. “Then I’ll let you get unpacked and settled. Dinner will be at six. We’re celebrating this evening. We have a couple of guests for Nattie’s birthday.”
“Really? I’m glad I’m here for the celebration. And pleased I brought along a couple of small presents. I’d be embarrassed to attend her birthday party empty-handed.” She kept her voice level and free of the irritation that prickled her. Why hadn’t he thought to tell her about the birthday?