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All admirable, Tessa realized. Still... “What about Poppy?”
He frowned. “What about her?”
“She seems a little lonely.”
“Lonely?” he scoffed. “She has me, Dorothy, Alvin, my parents when they visit.”
“It seems she’s only around adults,” Tessa said carefully, hoping not to anger him. “I mean she doesn’t have playdates, the kind of thing other kids do.”
“I didn’t have playdates when I was growing up. My parents were growing the business. I turned out reasonably okay.”
Tessa sensed she wasn’t gaining any ground and was about to be told to mind her own business. “True.” She hesitated, remembering Dorothy’s comment about Morgan no longer attending church. “Does Poppy attend Sunday school?”
“No. Why?”
“Just thinking. There are other kids to interact with. They sing, hear stories, sometimes make an art project.” Wincing, she gave in to another impulse. “I go every Sunday. She could come along with me.”
“I don’t know...”
Not sure of his religious convictions, she tried to be subtle. “Like I said, it’s mostly a social thing. I think Poppy would really like it. I see Cindy and Flynn there.”
He seemed to waver. “What about the church session?”
“She could go to junior church,” Tessa replied. “Lots of singing. Unless you have plans to do something with Poppy tomorrow.”
“No. I have to meet with a pipeline supervisor, Ronnie Broussard. He’s a key man in the field—East Texas. He’s tied up all the time putting out figurative fires. We need this meeting.”
She waited.
“I suppose it would be all right,” he conceded, “for her to go with you tomorrow.”
She wondered if the roses had softened him.
“But no preaching.”
Or not.
“I don’t want her to grow up with false promises,” he continued, “and to believe everything’s going to be all golden.”
Tessa frowned, hating to think the child would be denied the joy of hope. “No?”
“Life has a way of squashing things. It’s ridiculous to believe it can all be changed or fixed.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” she replied quietly. “It’s faith.”
“It’s pointless,” he replied, bitterness infusing the words.
“You must have loved her a great deal.”
Silence was sudden and thick.
“I don’t need your amateur psychology or your meddling.” He turned, his boots a distinctive thud on the stone walkway.
Morgan seemed to take the rose-scented air with him when he left. Too much emotion had been staked out on display today. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to prod him about Poppy, to question him about his late wife.
Following the puddles of moonlight, she made her way to the cottage. But, despite her best intentions, she turned around, watching as Morgan disappeared in the night.
* * *
It was plain to see Poppy was excited to wear her best dress and shoes by the way she eagerly smoothed the skirt. Her dress was blue, almost an exact match to her eyes, broken up with large white polka dots. Along with white tights and glossy white shoes, she was a picture. Her small fingers curled in Tessa’s, sending a responding curl of warmth to her stomach. Such innocent trust in the gesture. If this little girl was hers, Tessa knew she would take walks with her just to capture her hand and hold it close.
“Are other kids gonna be there?” Poppy questioned again.
Tessa smiled, not minding the repetition. “Yes. Lots. You’ll have a good time.”
“Why didn’t Daddy want to come?”
“He’s busy with a special meeting.”
“He always has work,” Poppy replied.
Tessa squeezed the small hand. “But he misses you when he does,” she improvised. Surely that was the case. “You’re way more fun than work.”
Poppy screwed her face into a puzzled frown. “You sure?”
“Very.” Tessa led her small charge into the Sunday school building.
Rosewood Community Church had been constructed in the late 1800s. Weathering storms and even a fire, the faithful congregation kept the building well maintained. True to the Victorian age in which it was built, the lines of the church were classic. And, in Tessa’s opinion, classy. She loved that the floors were constructed of local wood, original to the building. Designated on the historical register, the church conveyed its beautiful spirit visually, as well.
The fire that had erupted several years earlier hadn’t stopped worship. Instead, they pulled together to rebuild. Members of other churches volunteered as well, offering materials, labor and donations. It was a church of the community and it had taken the whole community to repair the damage. But now the scars were scarce. Cindy told her they left one charred piece of timber, now enclosed in a case, to remind them of how fortunate they’d been not to lose the entire structure.
Once at her class, it didn’t take long for Poppy to meet her Sunday school teacher, then greet the other children.
Tessa unobtrusively lingered in the hallway to make certain Poppy would be okay. But the child was all smiles, so Tessa finally made her way to her own class.
Her thoughts remained with Poppy. After Sunday school ended, she darted over to check on junior church, but again, Poppy was fine. Still, Tessa fidgeted during the church service. Usually she appreciated the beauty of the stained-glass windows, the aged wood, the flowers that adorned the altar. It was a place for her thoughts to settle, for her mind to seek solace. But today she glanced at her watch more than her Bible. And the moment the congregation dispersed, she practically ran to the chapel to collect Poppy.
Relieved to see that she was still looking happy, Tessa released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “So, you had a good time?”
“Uh-huh.” Poppy waved a booklet. “And I have stories.”
“That’s great. If it’s okay with your father, we can read them later.”
“Can we come back again?”
“If your father agrees.” All Tessa had previously gleaned was that Morgan wasn’t a churchgoer. After last evening’s conversation, it was evident why. She’d known others who had gone through crises of faith because of a loss. She considered herself fortunate to have held on tightly to her own despite Karl, despite the disappointment of knowing she would never bear children.
“Tomorrow?”
Tessa smiled. “Well, not tomorrow. It’s called Sunday school because it meets on Sunday.”
“But the party’s on Saturday!” Poppy wailed.
Tessa noticed a sheet of bright orange paper stapled to the booklet. “Let’s check out what your teacher sent.”
Poppy was right. They were having a class skating party. She drew her eyebrows together. What would Morgan think of this? She had no idea. Which meant her best option was to distract Poppy so that she wouldn’t worry over it right now. “I bet Dorothy will have lunch ready when we get home.”
Shaking her head, Poppy lifted her gaze. “Sunday lunch is sandwiches. Daddy says Dorothy should have a day off.”
Tessa had scrupulously kept to her own cottage on the weekends except when they were working on Saturdays, having asked Morgan to phone her if she was needed. But he hadn’t called, so she didn’t know how the house worked on Sundays. “That’s nice. I love sandwiches. What about you?”
The small head lifted up, then down. “Uh-huh. Dorothy makes dessert on Saturday so we have good dessert for Sunday, too.”
“Do you help?”
“Uh-huh,” Poppy repeated.
Driving back to Morgan’s house, Tessa wondered when he would return. She would have to speak with him about Saturday’s party. Tessa might have successfully distracted the little girl for the time being, but it wasn’t likely that Poppy would forget about the party entirely.
Sure enough, as soon as Poppy spotted Dorothy, she rushed to show her the papers she’d brought home. Dorothy met Tessa’s gaze. She could see her own question in the other woman’s eyes.
“Can I have chips?” Poppy was asking Dorothy.
“Yes. But before lunch, let’s change out of your good dress.”
Poppy swirled, the full skirt responding to the pirouette, swishing prettily. “Okay. Can I wear my purple shirt?”
Dorothy concurred as they headed up the back stairs.
Tessa released her breath. She knew she was overly invested in the outcome of whether Poppy would be allowed to attend the party. She wondered how wise it had been to have pushed for Poppy to attend church.
Morgan was nowhere in sight. But she could imagine his expression when he learned about Saturday’s party. Last night he’d been downright grim at the prospect of Poppy attending church. She hated to imagine his reaction when he heard about a second outing.
Chapter Five
Morgan flexed his shoulders, but the knot between them didn’t dissipate. Weariness settled in his bones as he walked from the garage to the house. His quick meeting had turned into a marathon. New problems cropped up like dandelions in the spring.
Landowners weren’t happy about the cleanup from a recent pipeline leak in East Texas. Ronnie Broussard had consulted with him, followed procedure, but one owner had made a career of keeping his neighbors riled up. Not that Morgan expected people to be happy about oil spills. But Harper’s cleanup record was the quickest and most efficient for any size transporter. It was something he took pride in.
The dull ache beneath his eyebrows that never seemed to go away intensified. He didn’t want to believe the constant headaches interfered with his judgment, but on long days like this one he wondered. Had he done all he should on this last leak? Or had details become blurred? He couldn’t put the blame on anyone else. Ronnie had followed orders. Just as Tessa had.
She had surprised him with her utter efficiency and dedication to the job. He had expected a steeper learning curve, but her experience and expertise had eliminated the need. Instead, she had made certain that he knew about the leak immediately, then made the calls necessary for a complete and thorough spill cleanup.
If she had been at the helm during the Exxon Valdez spill, history would have been rewritten. Fortunately, Harper’s spills weren’t on that scale. He spent plenty on maintenance and bought the best steel pipe on the market for replacements. It wasn’t a popular choice these days. A lot of his competitors bought the cheapest steel possible. But he refused to endanger the environment. Poppy had to grow up in this world, and he wanted to make sure he did his part to maintain the land under his control.
Morgan remembered all the people who advised him to take the company public, leave these decisions to someone else. He shifted the computer tablet in his hand. That step wasn’t something he was prepared to do.
Still, the exhaustion weighed on him. The previous day had been twenty-two continuous hours. And today’s meeting had begun early, then lasted late. He had expected to be home around three o’clock, not eight in the evening.
Knowing the back door was unlocked, he pocketed his keys. Pushing the door open, he was surprised by the hum of voices. It was time for Poppy to be in bed. Searching the room, he spotted his daughter, decked out in her favorite jammies, sitting at the table. And for some reason Tessa sat with her.
Dorothy noticed him first. “Well, it’s about time.”
He smiled at her despite his fatigue. He knew she worried about him like a parent. “Took longer than I expected.”
“Now, that’s what I’d call an understatement,” she replied, smoothing the sides of her cross-stitched apron in place.
“What’s going on?” He caught Poppy, who had climbed down from her chair and launched herself at him.
“Tessa made special cocoa,” Poppy told him, her small arms encircling his neck.
“Oh?”
Tessa fidgeted. “Just a brand I especially like. My mother sent a care package.”
“She afraid you’ve landed in the boonies?”
Looking mortified, Tessa shook her head. “No, of course not. She just spoils me. Looks like I’m doing the same thing.”
“I told her we often have cocoa in the evening,” Dorothy added with a look that dared him to counter her words.
“Would you like some?” Tessa questioned. “You must be hungry.”
“Yes, you must,” Dorothy chimed in. “We had leftover stew for dinner. Guessed you might be late so I made sure to cook something that warms up even better than the original.”
How could he argue with someone as caring as Dorothy? He wasn’t hungry, but common sense told him he should eat. “Sounds good, Dorothy. Thanks.”
“It has baby carrots and baby peas,” Poppy told him. “And it’s really good.”
“Everything Dorothy cooks is really good,” he agreed, putting his tablet on the counter, glancing at the screen before he turned it off.
Tessa lit the burner beneath a pan of milk. “Won’t take a moment to fix another cup of cocoa.”
He started to protest, but the wall of goodwill was overpowering. And he didn’t have the energy to surmount it. Dorothy scooped some stew into a bowl. Once in the microwave, the warming dinner emitted aromas reserved for waking the deadest of appetites.
Only a few minutes later, Tessa set a mug of hot cocoa in front of him. “I hope you’ll like it.”
He nodded. It was something he’d usually skip, but he didn’t want to be rude.
“Taste it, Daddy. It’s real good.”
He took an obligatory sip. Surprised, he glanced up. “This really is good.”
“It’s bittersweet,” Tessa explained. “Most hot cocoa is milk chocolate, a little sweet for me.”
“She put lots of marshmallows in mine,” Poppy explained, adding a cocoa mustache to her face with another sip. “So it would be sweeter.”
“You’re pretty sweet already,” he told his darling girl.
She grinned. “You always think that.”
Yes, yes, he did.
Dorothy placed a heaping bowl of stew in front of him. “I know you didn’t get your three squares today.”
He’d taken off before breakfast. There was a vague memory of a few doughnuts and coffee. Endless cups of coffee. And he’d skipped lunch.
“I ate my stew at dinner,” Poppy informed him.
“It is good,” Tessa chimed in.
Dorothy looked down at him, then raised her eyebrows.
Picking up a spoon, he dug in, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to say he was too tired to eat. He swallowed a bite. “Delicious.”
Glancing up, he caught Tessa’s concerned stare. She met his eyes, then finally looked down. What was in her aquamarine gaze?
“I’m going to a party!” Poppy announced.
“Party?” He looked at his daughter. “What party?”
“At sunny school,” Poppy replied.
That had been today, he realized. But he hadn’t intended for it to be an ongoing thing. When Tessa brought up the subject, it had seemed harmless, a onetime outing. “What’s she talking about?”
Tessa cleared her throat. “The teacher gave her a handout. The younger grades are having a little party on Saturday. Should be fun with lots of kids.”
He frowned. “I didn’t sign on for a series of church events.”
Poppy’s lower lip began to quiver. “I wanna go, Daddy.”
His throat tightened. There was little in the world he could deny her. “I have to think about it.”
“It’s time for bed,” Dorothy said only a moment later, preempting tears and hurt feelings. “Freckles looks sleepy.”
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