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“I don’t gots no mother, neither.” Pete took the plate and obediently carried it out onto her veranda behind her. “She died. My dad, too. Me an’ my brother and my dopey sisters are the only ones left.” He took a huge bite of cookie. “I’m getting ‘dopted.”
“That’s nice.” Clarissa smiled to hide the shaft of pain she felt at the sad story. “I’m sure your new parents must love you very much.” She set the milk down and pulled out a chair.
“Enough to confine him to his room for a week if he doesn’t learn to stay in his own yard,” a husky voice informed her sardonically. “There’s something wrong with your back gate.”
Clarissa gasped at the familiar timbre of those low tones. She whirled around, her face draining of color as she met the dark forbidding gaze of the man who’d been in her library that very afternoon.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, noticing that he’d left the front gate open. She hurried to close it. “I don’t allow cats in my yard,” she told him soberly. “They bother the birds.”
“But you got a cat in your house. I seen it.” Pete’s shrill voice burst into the conversation.
“You ‘saw’ it. And Tabby doesn’t go outside.” Clarissa stood where she was, her hands buried in the voluminous pockets of her long skirt. “Are you Pete’s father?”
“His name is Pierce and you know very well that I’m his uncle. I’m sure the entire town has informed you of my existence by now. I have to tell you that I do not appreciate having to scour the neighborhood to find my nephew, Miss Cartwright.”
“Hey, I didn’t steal him!” Clarissa burst out, affronted by the implication in that low voice. “He came to look at the birds.” Another thought occurred and she whirled to face Pete, who was now enjoying his fifth cookie. “Is Pierce your real name?”
“Yeah.” Pierce looked shamefaced, his soft melting eyes begged forgiveness. “But I like people to call me Pete. It’s not so…weird.” He pocketed the last cookie, then stared up at the big man who stood towering over them both. “I’ll go home now, Uncle Wade. I’m sorry I disobeyed.”
Clarissa hadn’t thought it possible, but the stern craggy face softened, just a little.
“It’s all right this time, son. But please stay in the yard. That’s why I rented the place, so there would be room for all of you to run and jump and play without getting into trouble.” His uncle eyed the torn jeans with a rueful smile. “Another pair? How do you manage to do this, Pierce?”
“I dunno. It just happens.” Pierce shuffled down the steps, then raced around to the back of the house for his book. “See ya later,” he called to Clarissa, then vaulted over the fence with a huge leap.
“You’re his uncle?” Somehow the knowledge just now made its way to her brain. “But this afternoon you said you were looking for a book for your son. And Pete, I mean Pierce, said he was adopted.” She frowned, trying to fit it all together.
As the worst possible scenario flew into her mind, she gasped. She’d seen those milk-carton pictures for years, children who’d been stolen from one parent by another.
“You can forget whatever you’re thinking. I am their legal guardian.” His rumbly voice openly mocked her.
“They?” She pounced on the information, struggling to assimilate it all. “Who are they?”
His face twisted into a wry smile. “One of the meddlers around here really must have slipped up.”
When Clarissa only frowned in perplexity, he sighed, rolled his eyes, then thrust out one hand.
“I suppose we didn’t get off to a very good start. You already know my name. And yes, before you ask, I’m part Cree. On my mother’s side. She kept her name.” His dark fuming eyes dared her to make something of that. “My sister and her husband died and left their kids for me to look after. Tildy and Lacey are twins. They’re twelve. Jared is ten and Pierce is seven. We moved here for the work. I would have thought the gossips would have imparted at least that much.”
Clarissa took his hand and shook it, feeling the zap of his touch shiver all the way up her arm.
“I don’t listen to gossip,” she assured him in a daze.
Four children? This man was raising four children? Alone? “Welcome to Waseka.” She managed to get the words out despite the shock that held her jaw tense.
“In case you didn’t understand earlier, I think I should make one thing perfectly clear,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and shoving it into the pocket of his worn but very well fitted jeans. “I’m not looking for a wife. Despite what people think, men are as capable of parenting as women. Nobody’s going to go hungry or get abandoned or forgotten about. I promised my sister I’d care for them, and I’ll keep my word. I’ll do my duty. Me. By myself.” His lips tightened. “In spite of the locals’ opinion, I’ve been doing just fine for several months now. And I intend to keep it that way.”
She wondered why he sounded so torn about it. Then the impact of his words hit home.
“Now, just a minute here.” Clarissa felt the flush push up from her neck, right to the roots of her string-straight hair.
“No, you wait. I know what small towns are like. Nosy bunch of old fools! Everybody’s been hinting about you since the day I walked into this one-horse place. ‘Clarissa’s a wonderful cook. Clarissa’s so good with kids. Clarissa would make you the perfect wife. She just loves to care for people.’ Yak, yak, yak.” He snorted derisively, eyeing the plate that now held only a few crumbs. “I can see you’ve already been practicing your motherly wiles on my nephew.”
“Wiles? I wasn’t—”
“I’ve heard it all before, you know. Too many times. The sweet praise for a man who can care for four children. The innocent suggestion that I might need help. The generous offer to cook us a healthy meal. Out of friendship, of course! Matchmakers!” One corner of his unsmiling mouth tipped down.
“Forget about whatever you’re planning, Miss Cartwright. We’re not in the market. I don’t need the aggravation.” Wade Featherhawk turned and stomped down the walk, his face grim and forbidding.
Clarissa followed him down, her brain working furiously. “But, wait a minute. I didn’t even—”
He whirled around faster than she expected, bumping into her. One tanned hand grabbed her arm, waited until she was steady, then fell away as if it had been burned.
“No, you wait. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough. I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering. My family is doing just fine. I don’t need your interference.” His snapping black eyes told her just how little she interested him. When Clarissa didn’t back off, he smiled darkly.
“I don’t go for blondes, and even if I did, I’d pick someone strong enough to handle four kids, not a woman who looks like she’d blow away in the first storm that came along.” His eyes glinted black as ebony. “You want to mother someone, Miss Cartwright? Find your own kids.”
Clarissa cringed away from him, but she refused to allow him to get away with saying such things to her. Whatever was behind his glowering countenance, it couldn’t cover this deplorable lack of good manners.
“Believe me, Mr. Featherhawk, I wouldn’t bother to give you the time of day! But I feel sorry for those children. If you’re this cranky all the time, they must really bask in your company. A veritable joy to live with!”
Clarissa had never been so furious in her life. She stomped up the stairs, picked up Pierce’s empty glass and plate, and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind her. As usual, the door immediately flopped open, and waved back and forth on its hinges with the annoying creak it always made when ill-treated.
A burst of laughter from outside made her flush even hotter. She slapped the dishes down and whirled back to the door to face his supercilious look.
“While you’re looking for someone to share your life with, I’d make sure he knows how to build. This mausoleum is going to fall down around your ears if you don’t do something soon, Miss Cartwright. Not that I’m volunteering.” He frowned, took a step backward and shook his head. “No way! I’m not into masochism. Good night.”
Clarissa seethed with indignation. Of all the arrogant, rude, obnoxious men, Wade Featherhawk had to take the cake. She closed the door firmly on his snide words and then wondered if he’d been referring only to the house.
The phone pealed a summons and Clarissa picked it up reluctantly. Please Lord, not another busybody.
“Hi, Prissy! How was Hawaii?” Her college buddy, Blair Delayney’s bright voice echoed from the far reaches of the Rocky Mountains. “Meet any gorgeous men?”
“Nope, not a one. I’m still part of the group. How about you and Briony?” She wouldn’t say a thing about the one who’d just left her front yard.
It was an old joke. In college, all three women had planned to be married and then lost their grooms one way or another before the ceremony. Down but not out, they’d banded together, calling themselves the Three Spinsters, vowing never to go looking for love again.
The only problem was, none of them could seem to accept in their hearts that love wouldn’t find them. Someday.
“Oh, we’re both still old maids. How was the wedding?” Blair always demanded details.
“It was lovely. On the beach, at sunset. That exclusive club was something else, though I felt out of place. I didn’t know anyone except Great-Aunt Martha and she’s deaf.” Clarissa described the elegant dresses of the guests as best she could.
“I told you to take along a friend. Hawaii’s a hard place to be alone.” Blair’s voice softened in commiseration.
“Tell me about it.” Clarissa rested her cheek against the coolness of the wall. “Everywhere I went there were couples. Old ones, young ones, but always couples. Even some with kids.”
“I’m sorry, Priss.” Blair and Bri were the only two who knew how much she wanted to be a mother.
The old nickname came from her college days when she was constantly chiding them about cleaning up the apartment. It was somehow comforting to Clarissa. “Don’t be. I managed all right once the aunt left and I got to look around on my own. There’s this museum, Blair. You wouldn’t believe the stuff!”
She launched into a description of the Bishop Museum that left little time for her to recount the lonely evenings spent walking along the silver-lined sand by herself, longing for someone to share all that beauty with. By the time Blair rang off, she was hooting with laughter. Which was exactly what Clarissa wanted. No one feeling sorry for her.
She rinsed off the dishes and stacked them in the cavernous dishwasher, empty except for her dinner plate and cutlery. She considered Wade’s stinging assessment as she worked. Her lips pinched tight in anger as she remembered Pierce’s yearning look at the pie she’d made for Mr. Harper.
“We’ll see who has the last laugh, Mr. Wade Featherhawk. We’ll just see. I wouldn’t offer to help you if you begged me on bended knee!”
The mental picture this brought to mind made her burst out laughing. Wade Featherhawk, on his knees, to her?
“In your dreams, woman.” She giggled out loud. She’d often dreamed of being proposed to, but it wasn’t going to happen this time either, prayer notwithstanding. “Just forget about him.”
If only it was that easy.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later Wade glanced around the old-fashioned church and grimaced as he caught sight of Clarissa Cartwright’s willowy figure two pews ahead. Her dainty blue-and-white-flowered dress accentuated her gorgeous blond hair and the narrowness of her waist, along with other assets he forbade himself to notice. She was tiny. As he studied her clear profile and smooth white skin, his body tensed, his hands clenched and his jaw tightened. Wade told himself it was anger.
Everywhere he went these days, she seemed to be there, waiting in the wings, a silent reminder that he wasn’t a very good father, that he didn’t know diddly about parenting. That duty and obligation were no substitute for the mother’s love that the kids needed.
She never said a word, of course, but he knew she was inaudibly pointing out the fact that he didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing when it came to raising kids, especially girls.
Just his luck that Tildy and Lacey had Clarissa for a Sunday school teacher, Jared drew her as his special pal in Boys’ Club, and Pierce couldn’t stop singing the praises of her dim, moldy old library. Some luck, Wade decided grimly.
No sooner was Wade’s back turned than Clarissa invited one or the other of them over to that mausoleum. For a snack, to plan an outing, to practice a new recipe. Blah, blah, blah.
Wade was fed up to the teeth hearing about Miss Clarissa Cartwright and her wonderful life! All it did was make him look incompetent and lacking. Which he was! But he didn’t need it rubbed in.
“Good to see you here.” A man whose name Wade couldn’t remember pumped his hand up and down, his face beaming. “Glad to have you in Waseka.”
“Uh, thanks.” Wade felt vaguely ashamed of his churlish behavior. Not everyone was all bad.
“You ever bowl? We’re one short on our team and I sure wouldn’t mind getting someone who can roll a few strikes. Call me up if you’re interested. Ed Mason’s the name.”
“Thanks. I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’ll think about it.” Wade watched the other man saunter away, then turned to gather his brood. Instead, he found himself virtually alone inside the building. Now what?
He sauntered down the aisle and out the door. They were there on the lawn, all four of them, clustered around her, laughing and giggling. Probably at some remark she’d made about him. Wade felt his jaw tighten in annoyance and struggled to suppress it. Why did she get under his skin like this?
“Really? A picnic? What would we have?” That was Jared, consumed with the condition of his perpetually empty stomach.
“Mm, fried chicken, maybe? With potato salad. And watermelon scones.” Clarissa brushed a hand over Tildy’s riot of inexpertly permed curls. “Maybe some chocolate layer cake for dessert. Or strawberry shortcake. How does that sound?”
“Like I died and went to heaven.” Jared groaned, patting his ribs. “When can we go?”
“You can’t.” Wade walked up behind them, frowning in reproof at Clarissa. “Miss Cartwright has other things to do. And we can manage meals perfectly well on our own.”
“But Clarissa was going to teach me how to make fried chicken for my home ec class,” Tildy protested. “And Lacey wants to get some help with that biology paper.”
“I’ll help her. And we can buy fried chicken in town. Or make it at home. Let’s go.” He herded them toward the sidewalk. “Tildy, you, Lacey and the boys go ahead and get lunch started. I just have to stop and talk to someone for a minute. I’ll be right there.”
“Yes, Uncle Wade.” Tildy didn’t even look at him, but he could tell from the pout on her pretty face that she wasn’t happy with his edict. Her heels hit the pavement with hard, knee-jarring thumps.
Wade winced at the girl’s anger while his own temper inched up another degree. It was all her fault! All this meddling from their nosy neighbor had made the kids rebellious. He turned back toward the church with vengeance fogging his brain.
“Miss Cartwright, I asked you to leave us alone. Why can’t you respect my wishes?”
She stared at him, her eyes big pools of innocence in her long thin face.
“I didn’t encourage them. Really! It was just that Pierce mentioned it was a lovely day for bird-watching. Then Jared suggested a picnic, and I joined in his game of pretend. I wasn’t hinting anything.”
Her face, open and oh, so innocent, peered back at him.
“Yeah, right.” He led her out of the way of the crowd and off to one side. Then he stood in front of her, daring her to try to wiggle out of this one. “I’m asking you for the last time to leave my kids alone. We don’t need your help. It was nice of you to do what you’ve done, and I do appreciate it, but we’re settled in now and we’re doing just fine by ourselves.”
She looked a little surprised and confused by his words. That blank, credulous look made him say something he shouldn’t have.
“Please, lady, just leave us alone. I know you want to help but you can’t. No one can. I’ve got to do this on my own, no matter how much I might want somebody there to share the load. We’ve got to learn how to be a family together. Alone.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” she whispered, her face ashen. The twinkle of happiness he’d glimpsed earlier disappeared. “I just thought I could help out. I didn’t think you’d find out about the jeans or the ironing.”
Wade felt his face freeze. He allowed his gaze to slip just a little lower, to the pressed cotton of his shirt. He should have known Lacey hadn’t done it!
“They’re so busy doing chores all day, they don’t have time to play. Everything is so serious for them. I was just trying to lend a hand.” Her earnest voice pleaded with him to understand, dropped almost to a whisper. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you have to earn your keep.”
Wade felt the pain in those softly spoken words and wondered what had caused it. Clarissa Cartwright hardly looked like a little Cinderella. In spite of that, he couldn’t stem the tide of chagrin that rose in a wave of gall. How dare she go to his house, check out his family and how he provided for them? How dare she snoop through his home on the pretext of mending their worn clothes? He knew they weren’t the best, but at least they were clean and paid for. Well, most of the time they were clean.
“Look, maybe we don’t live the kind of dream life you want. I know the kids have to pitch in. But it won’t hurt them. They’ll learn accountability. Raising them is up to me, not you.” He felt a tide of red rise in his cheeks as he noticed the tiny mending stitches on the knee of his jeans.
Even in the best of all possible worlds, his nieces couldn’t sew like that, and he should have known it, would have known it if he’d paid more attention to them.
“I love those kids as if they were my very own. They’re not going to get mixed up in drugs or booze or any of that stuff as long as I’m around.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But they’re not going to have a mother, either. Not even a pretend one. And they have to face that.” He took a deep breath and went on the attack.
“So I wish you’d stop trying to weasel your way into our lives just so you can prove to everyone how much better off you’d treat them. In two words, Miss Cartwright—butt out!”
Wade turned and found several pairs of eyes on him. He knew then that the congregation had heard every word he’d said. Before the noon siren screamed across the town, they’d spread it far and wide. A surge of remorse washed over him, but he thrust it away, his mind boiling with frustration.
Maybe now these people would stop shoving Clarissa Cartwright’s single status in his face!
Wade made himself spend time talking with Pastor Mike, chatting to Jerry about the walk-in cedar closet he wanted in his house. By the time he strode down the sidewalk, hands clenched inside his pockets, most of the folks had dispersed. And that included Clarissa. He’d known the exact moment she’d scurried away, head downcast, shoulders slumped.
He forced his mind away off her and took a detour on the way home in order to concentrate on the list of jobs he’d garnered around town. With a little luck, maybe he could make enough to put some money in the bank for that rainy day that kept happening when work ran out. He was going to need a little extra cash. Especially now, with the country club project delayed.
It wasn’t five minutes before he got caught up in studying the Victorian architecture of the row of houses on Primrose Lane. He kept walking, trying to remember the details he’d planted deep in his brain last year in order to gain acceptance to the college of architecture.
As he studied gables and turrets, Wade let his mind turn over the problem of life in Waseka. He’d tried to keep to himself, tried to avoid the inevitable matchmaking. He’d been through it enough times. And every time the kids got their hopes up, he had to dash them because the woman in question always wanted something he couldn’t give. She sure wasn’t looking to take on a ready-made family that belonged to someone else. At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he didn’t want the responsibility of yet another person cluttering up his life.
Wade trudged down the street with the sun beating on his head, lost in his thoughts of providing a future for four needy children who were totally dependent on him. His shoulders bowed under all that being their parent demanded, the knowledge that he was no good at responsibility nagging in the back of his brain.
He flinched in surprise when small, sharp-nailed fingers closed around his arm, pinching tight in their effort to penetrate and thus slow him down. Wade flung the hand away, then whirled around to see who was attacking him.
She stood there, sea foam eyes turbulent with temper. Clarissa might have to look up to meet his gaze, but she certainly didn’t seem intimidated. She looked more like a wasp about to sting.
“How dare you embarrass me like that? I didn’t help them out because of you! I wouldn’t do anything for you. You’re too stubborn and far too arrogant to want to help, Mr. Featherhawk.” Her words were so sharp, they could have torn a strip off him.
He waited, mentally flinching at the fury in her face, but keeping his own countenance impassive.
“Did I mention self-absorbed?” She crossed both arms across her chest and glared. “Or conceited? I did it for them, you know. Because they deserve some decent food, some time to play, a clean house and a shoulder to cry on once in a while. They’ve had to grow up awfully fast since their parents’ deaths. Can’t you let them be children for even one afternoon without lording it over them and forcing them to wallow in the drudgery?”
Oh, brother! Over the past two weeks they must have poured out the whole ugly story. As if he wanted to deprive them of anything when they’d already lost both parents. Wade sighed, his whole body sagging with tiredness as she continued her diatribe. As he waited, she slapped her hands on her hips and laughed, a harsh discordant sound that didn’t match her delicate looks.
“You’re so worried about getting trapped—who would want to marry you anyway?” She sniffed, her snubbed nose tipped upward in haughty reproof. “It’s not as if you’re the least bit pleasant to be around. I feel sorry for those kids, living with a bear like you, Wade Featherhawk. You carry a chip big enough for the whole Cree nation.”
Clarissa gave him one last huff, then turned and stomped away, her heels tap-tapping on the sidewalk. Openmouthed, Wade watched her until she closed her white picket gate, climbed the steps to her rickety old house and firmly closed the door on him. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why he’d chosen this street anyway.
Then he turned the corner toward home, his shoulders hunching forward as he thought over what she’d said.
“Way to go, bud! You’ve already got so many friends in this place, you can really afford to slap down the one person who was willing to help out, no questions asked. Smart, very smart.”
He shut his mind on that mocking inner voice and kept walking toward the park. He needed to think….
Wade wasn’t sure how much time passed before he wandered out of the park and down the street. He scanned the sky, but that didn’t help. Heritage or not, he couldn’t tell time by the sun. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the plume of smoke coming from down the street. From his house! Wade broke into a sprint that carried him through the front door and into the kitchen in less than a minute.
“Tildy? Something’s burning.” He grabbed a pot mitt and lifted the smoke-belching pan from the stove, searching for a place to set it down.
Since the counter was covered with dirty dishes and the table still held the remains of breakfast, he carried the pot outside and across the backyard to dump its charred remains into the garbage barrel.