Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby

She turned the item on her barbeque and Wade felt his mouth water, his tongue prickle, his stomach rumble. A T-bone steak! What he wouldn’t give for a nice juicy steak on the rare side with a fluffy baked potato heaping with sour cream. And a slice of apple pie.

He closed his eyes and gulped, swallowing the gall that rose in his throat as he humbly ate crow. You didn’t take someone up on an invitation like that after you’d embarrassed them in front of half the town.

“Th-thanks anyway. But we’ve got our dinner ready.” He wished he could chuck the pot into the garbage can, too. It would take forever to clean.

“Yes, I can see that.” She gave him one last questioning look, then turned her back and lifted a sizzling steak from the grill, watching as the juices dripped onto the coals. “A little too rare, I think.” She laid it back down.

Wade swallowed again, scraped what he could out of his pot and returned to his messy, smoke-filled home with legs like cement.

As he gathered the kids around the table to munch on tasteless, white buttered bread spread with gobs of oily peanut butter, he faced the condemning looks in their eyes.

“To think we could have been eating real food. Steak,” Jared grumbled, glaring at the sandwich. “And pie. I heard her from my window. Pie!”

“Know what my Sunday school lesson was about today, Uncle Wade?” Lacey’s pretty face darkened like a thundercloud about to dump its contents all over him.

“I can’t imagine.” He chewed slowly, almost gagging when he tried to swallow the sticky concoction.

“Pride,” Lacey informed him sagely. “Silly, stupid pride. It always comes before a fall.”

“Oh. That’s nice, dear.”

A resounding silence greeted his words. Then, one by one, the kids left the table, their sandwiches torn apart, but mostly uneaten.

Wade took a gulp of water, then folded his napkin over the rest of his sandwich. He couldn’t eat another bite either.

Grimly he wondered how much damage it would do to his image to admit defeat and take them all out to the fast-food place for supper. He’d almost decided to do it when he saw Pierce sneak across the backyard and vault over her fence.

Not two minutes later the boy was sprawled on the grass, happily munching on something, his freckled face the picture of bliss as he gazed lovingly at Wade’s nemesis.

As he worked on cleaning up the kitchen, Wade had lots of time to notice that it wasn’t long before Jared, followed by Tildy and Lacey, decided to go for a walk. And when Clarissa and Pierce disappeared from her backyard, he knew exactly where all three had gone.

“Bribing them,” he muttered, viciously scraping last night’s burnt hamburger out of the frying pan. “That’s all she’s doing.”

His stomach rumbled agreement, and he threw down the pot scrubber in defeat.

“Sally’s Café is open this afternoon. I believe I’ll stop by for coffee with the boys.”

Wade pulled open the door, his toe thudding against the box that sat leaning against the closet door. Why had he hung on to his drafting table anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d ever realize that ambition. It was better to get rid of all the evidence of his aspirations to become an architect. Supporting four kids took every dime he made and more moments than he had in a day. Finding time to study would be impossible.

Wade picked up the box, opened the closet and stuffed it against the back wall, standing the rolls of vellum filled with his carefully sketched ideas behind the winter coats. He had only himself to blame—his sister, Kendra, would be living somewhere with her children if he hadn’t insisted she give her husband another chance, try to make their marriage work. That’s what had killed her and ended his dream, his insistence on avoiding his duty to her.

Wouldn’t it have been better to let Kendra move out on Roy, come and live with him, instead of asking her to work things out? He’d laid it on heavy, reminded her how much the boys needed their dad. Not because he thought Roy was any role model, but because Wade didn’t want the responsibility, didn’t want to put his own plans on hold. That had always been his problem—trying to get out of what other people expected of him.

Well, it was far too late to change it all now. All he could do was fulfill her last wish and care for them the best he knew how.

Wade sighed, closed the front door and strolled down the street toward the local café. When a light breeze ruffled the apple blossoms overhead and fluttered their petals to the ground, Wade thought he heard sweet, joyful laughter from the librarian’s house across the back alley. He ignored it and kept walking. If he didn’t get something to eat soon, his stomach was going to devour his backbone. Too bad it wouldn’t be steak.

Three weeks later Clarissa picked up the basket holding a pot pie made from her grandmother’s famous recipe. In the other hand she snuggled a basket of homemade biscuits and the carrier that protected her triple chocolate fudge cake—the one that had won a blue ribbon at the state fair.

“I don’t care what he says,” she told herself firmly as she forced open the back gate. “I promised those kids a decent meal tonight, and I am going to deliver. He can rant and rave for another two weeks if he wants. It’s no skin off my nose.”

But she hated the acrimony. She knew how hard it was for him to manage everything. The kids had told her enough for Clarissa to get the picture. Wade Featherhawk had not had an easy life and by the sounds of it, he wasn’t scheduled for a reprieve anytime soon.

Apparently life on the reservation he’d grown up on, had not been a picnic. According to the kids, there was little work and lots of bad memories. Once he’d packed the kids up and left, he’d had to fight for every opportunity to prove he did quality work. Not that he deserved a second chance, her brain piped up. He’s too cranky. But she wouldn’t dream of slighting someone’s work ethic just because he was in a bad humor.

Clarissa had heard the talk in town, of course. Awful bigoted talk about his heritage. There had even been rumors. Not that she paid them any heed. She encouraged those who had hired him to speak openly about Wade’s good solid work ethic, and the able way he completed the jobs he contracted to do. She’d asked to keep one of the extremely good sketches he’d drawn for a renovation, and showed it to several ladies she knew wanted work done on their homes.

Gradually, people in Waseka were coming to accept the little family as a permanent fixture. Or they would do if they could only stop talking about how needy the children always looked. As a hint on her behalf, Clarissa felt it was blatantly overdone.

She’d done what she could, of course. But it wasn’t easy with Wade’s orders to stay away ringing in her ears. Last night Pierce’s grumble had torn a sympathetic hole in her heart, and she was determined to repair it one way or another.

Clarissa stepped out her back door and peered across the lane, checking to make sure he wasn’t around. It was too early for him, of course. And he couldn’t know that she always took Wednesday afternoons off, or that his kids’ sitter, Mrs. Anders, had to cancel out for this afternoon.

Feeling like a burglar, she crept across her backyard, managed to yank the gate open and carry her booty across the way without dropping a thing. Jared let her into his yard with a wide smile, his lanky height towering over her.

“Hey, something smells excellent, Clarissa.”

“Why, thank you!” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I hope you enjoy it.” She watched him peering in the bushes. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find my football. I have practice tonight, and I need it.”

“Oh.” Clarissa nodded at the basket. “If you’ll carry these inside, I’ll help you look.”

Ten minutes later, her shoes muddy from traipsing through the garden, Clarissa found the missing ball behind the shed.

“Wow, thanks, Clarissa!” As he took the ball, Jared glanced up and frowned, his eyes on the kitchen window. “Uh-oh. Tildy’s in the kitchen again.”

“That’s because I said I’d help her with her home ec project. Jared, do you think you could mow the grass? It’s awfully long.” Clarissa wasn’t sure grass this long could be mowed, but it was either try to cut it now or declare the yard a part of the rain forest.

“It’s bad, I know.” Jared’s thin cheeks went a faint pink. “I’m supposed to do it every week, but our mower is broken. Uncle Wade just hasn’t had time to fix it.”

“Go across the alley and get mine, then. Okay?” She waited for his nod, then went inside, confident that he knew what he was doing. After all, she’d been paying him to do her yard work for two weeks now.

Tildy stood in the kitchen, peering into the oven.

“What are you doing, honey?”

“It’s not getting brown,” the young girl told her. “Our home ec teacher said the crust should be golden brown.”

Clarissa smiled as she closed the oven door. “The crust will get brown, just give it time. It’s supposed to bake for at least an hour at a low temperature. Now, what’s the project for tonight?”

“Coleslaw. I got the cabbage, but I don’t know what else to do with it.”

She looked so forlorn Clarissa couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, coleslaw it is. But we’ll need some room. Let’s do a little cleaning first.” Tildy frowned, but Clarissa wasn’t giving up. Opportunity didn’t knock that often. “If you load the cutlery into the sink, it can soak for a few minutes while we wipe down the counter. Put the glasses in, too.”

She showed the young girl how to organize everything efficiently so that a minimum amount of time was needed to clean.

“See, it doesn’t take that long,” she murmured, half an hour later, surveying the sparkling room with satisfaction. “Just don’t let it get so far next time. Remember the first rule?”

Tildy nodded. “Clean up as you go,” she repeated.

“Good. Now, where’s the cabbage?”

Clarissa managed to show Tildy how to mix the dressing and got her started on slicing the cabbage into tiny strips before Lacey burst into the room, her face a mass of frustration.

“I’ll never ace this dumb old biology,” she muttered. “I don’t even know where to get a frog.”

“By the creek. There are always lots of them in the spring.” Clarissa offered to help her catch one later that evening. “Hi, Pierce,” she greeted as the young boy looked in through the screen door. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a bird out here that I can’t name. And I have to. It’s important for my collection.”

“Okay, well I’ve got a book—”

The doorbell cut across her response.

“Isn’t anyone going to answer that?”

“I can’t stop now. I’m just getting good at this.” Tildy chewed her bottom lip as she concentrated on the thin strips of cabbage.

“Fine, I’ll get it.” Clarissa walked through the living room and opened the door. She almost groaned aloud. “Rita,” she greeted, calmly enough. “Can I help you?”

“I doubt it. I’m here in response to the petition to adopt these children. I have to check out their home conditions.” Social worker Rita Rotheby surged inside with all the pomp and ceremony of a battleship bound for duty as she tried to sidestep Clarissa. “Excuse me.”

“Uh, Wade isn’t here right now, Rita. Maybe it would be better if you waited until he came home.” Clarissa could picture his face if he walked in right now and found her there.

“Nonsense! Part of the information gathering has to be done when he’s absent. To see how the children are managing.”

Okay, then. It was up to her, Clarissa decided. She’d have to make sure this inspection went well.

“The children are fine. Jared is cutting the lawn.”

“Unsupervised?” Rita scribbled something down.

“I’m here,” Clarissa reminded her and had the satisfaction of seeing the woman erase the words. “Tildy is making coleslaw for her home ec project. Lacey is doing her biology and Pierce is cataloging birds.” She trailed behind the other woman, but stopped short when Rita dragged a finger over the kitchen counter. Surely she hadn’t missed a spot?

“You have dinner already made?” the woman asked Tildy in disbelief.

“Yes, and she’s got all the major food groups covered, too. Isn’t it great?” Clarissa smiled at Tildy, willing her to smile back. “As you can see, Rita, Wade is doing a fine job with these children.”

“Hm. Things do seem to have changed. For the better.” Rita inspected the laundry room and found the machines purring.

Clarissa breathed a thank you that she’d thought to start a couple of loads earlier. She followed Rita back through the house. With all the finesse of a person who has a right to be in someone else’s home, she opened the front door and smiled her best hostess smile. “Everything’s fine, Rita.”

“Well, it does seem to be. I’ll file this and send a copy of it to Mr. Featherhawk. I don’t like to do anything behind anyone’s back.” Rita surged through the door, then stopped. “Oh, there you are. I must tell you, sir, that I found a vast improvement this time. Keep up the good work.” Having given her blessing, Rita bustled down the sidewalk to her car.

Clarissa gulped, gaping at the frowning face of Wade Featherhawk. He glanced at Rita’s disappearing back, then at Clarissa, then at the house.

“It’s nice someone in this town is honest about their intentions.” His voice chewed her out for her insolence. “I thought I asked you to leave us alone.”

Clarissa carefully shut the door behind him, checked to make sure no children were around, then faced him.

“Yes, you did. And I tried to respect your wishes. But I was asked over here to help out. And I was glad to do it.” She held her head up, daring him to question her further. “Now that you’re here, I’ll be on my way.” She turned her back and walked toward the kitchen.

“There’s a load of jeans in the washer and a bunch of your shirts in the dryer. You might want to take those out before they wrinkle. Tildy, you’ve done very well with that cabbage, although I think you’ve cut a bit more than you need. Just follow the recipe I left there and you’ll be fine. Bye for now.” And gathering up her purse, Clarissa headed for the back door.

She’d hoped to get away without another lecture, but it was obvious that Wade wasn’t prepared to let this go.

“I’ll walk you out.” His fingers wrapped around her elbow determinedly.

Clarissa marched out the back door, down the steps and across the newly mown yard. Jared was now working at the side of the house.

“He must have fixed it,” Wade muttered, staring at the shorn lawn. He shook his head and focused on her. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Miss Cartwright.”

“Don’t bother! I already know what you’re going to say. You’ve told me enough times.”

She kept on walking. Or she would have if he’d let go of her arm.

“Then why—”

“Why do I keep coming back here?” She rounded on him angrily. “Because they asked me to, that’s why. And I can’t say no.” She gulped down her frustration. “I know you don’t want me here, but the children need my help. And so do you.”

“No, I don’t.” He enunciated each word with frustrated precision.

“Well, you need something. Rita is the head honcho around here, and Judge Prendergast will do whatever she recommends. If you don’t get her on your side, you’re going to lose those kids to the state welfare agency. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not!” Wade raked a hand through his hair, his face weary. “But I can’t be here all the time. I can’t do everything.”

“I know,” Clarissa told him calmly. “That’s why it makes sense for them to come to me. I’d love to help and I don’t mind in the least. I like them. I think they’re smart kids.”

“But I don’t want them to become dependent on you. They shouldn’t have to lose someone again. That’s not fair to them.”

Clarissa shrugged. “Is it fair that you lock a friend out of their lives, won’t even let me help a little by providing a meal now and again? Is it fair that Lacey and Pierce and Jared and Tildy all come to me for help and I have to send them away because you’re too stubborn to accept a little assistance once in a while?” She said the words that had begged release for days now.

“Is it fair that I can’t mother them a little?”

“Probably not,” he agreed grimly. “I don’t think it’s fair that their mother died, either. Or that I—” He stopped, clenched his jaw, then shrugged. “It’s just the way life has to be.”

Clarissa saw red. The hidden words poured out of her mouth with no regard for the consternation spreading across his glowering face.

“No, it doesn’t! Can’t you see that I only want to help these kids? I’m not asking you to be involved,” she added scornfully. “And I’m not after your money or your house or anything like that.”

“No, you’re after my kids.” His eyes glinted belligerently.

“All right! Yes, I am. I’m asking you to consider them and what it must be like to grow up like this. They can’t have friends over because there’s no one here to supervise.”

“I hired someone.” His chin jutted out as if to say “so there.”

“I know.” Clarissa nodded. “Mrs. Anders. She couldn’t come this afternoon so she asked me to stop in once they were home from school. But it’s not the same.” She continued. “They haven’t any spare time to go out with chums because there are so many chores.” She waved a hand at the house behind them.

“You talk about my house being run-down, but at least it has more than one bathroom and lots of bedrooms. This place is too small!”

As she searched his face for a hint of acquiescence, Clarissa let her heart’s desire pour out. “Why would it be so wrong to let me coddle them a little bit? I promise I’m not after you. I know I’m not wife material—I’m not beautiful or desirable or any of those things men want in a wife, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I can still be a friend to them, and a darn good one! I can love these kids and be there for them. Why won’t you let me? They’ll still love you, Wade. I would never do anything to change that.”

Wade stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He reached out and lifted a strand of her hair and tucked it back behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, sober. Clarissa steeled herself for the rebuff she knew would come.

“There’s nothing wrong with your looks, Miss Cartwright. You have a soft-spoken kind of beauty that any man in his right mind would find attractive. But I’m not that man. I have nothing to give. It’s all I can do to provide for four children. I don’t need a wife to look after, too.”

“Actually, I was in no way suggesting that. But those children are exactly why you do need a wife,” she countered, then stopped as the grim line returned to his mouth. “I’m not proposing, Wade. Really, I’m not! But will you at least let me help out once in a while? Will you come over for a meal now and then? Will you let me help Pierce with his birds and Lacey with her biology? Just until you’ve got things more settled?”

Wade studied her for a long time, but when he spoke there was a hint of amusement in his low tones. “Frankly, I’d be ecstatic if you’d take over Lacey’s biology. It’s a subject I detest, especially the dissecting. And you know very well that Pierce has never stopped questioning you about his collection, in spite of my protests.”

It was an admission, but Clarissa wanted more.

“And you’ll come for dinner? Tomorrow? No, Friday. You’ll let me help Tildy with her school cooking stuff?” She waited, her breath held till it hurt her chest.

“We’ll come for dinner on Saturday,” he finally agreed. “And I suppose it won’t hurt for Tildy to get some help, once in a while. But that’s all. Nothing more. You won’t drop over and clean the house or mend clothes or do the laundry.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you promise you won’t pretend there’s something more going on when the busybodies start talking?”

“Of course not!” Clarissa was scandalized by the very idea. “I’m just a friend, and I’d like to help you out.”

“Fine. Then I’ll help out, too.” He sniffed. “Whatever’s cooking in that oven didn’t come from Tildy’s hands. In repayment for your assistance, I’ll fix your roof.”

“Oh, but it’s just a chicken pie!” She frowned, trying to imagine how much fixing her roof would cost him. “I didn’t expect you to—”

“Take it or leave it,” he warned, but there was a glint in his eye that warmed her heart. “If you help us, we help you. Friends.”

Her decision was unfairly influenced by the drop of rain on her nose. “I’ll take it. I’ve got to get going.”

“To put pails out, no doubt. You should have had it fixed months ago.” Wade shook his head as he surveyed the sorry condition of her weathered gables and red-rimmed turrets. “I’ll come over tomorrow and take a look.”

“You don’t have to—”

His look silenced her.

“All right. Thank you very much. I’ll be at the library till eight. We stay open late on Thursday.”

“I know. Believe me, I think I’ve been told everything about you.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

“Really?” Clarissa frowned. “Like what?”

“You have this,” one finger trailed across her jaw where it curved up to meet her ear, touching the hairline scar, “because, at age six, you helped get Johnny McCabe out of a tumble-down barn. You broke this arm when Petey Somebody dared you to jump off a granary, and Sarah Kingsley stopped being your best friend when she stole all your doll babies in grade two.”

Clarissa gaped at him, nodding her head as he spoke.

“Mercy, they must be serious,” she whispered. “The townsfolk haven’t told anyone that stuff since Harrison.”

He frowned. “Harrison? Harrison was the man you were engaged to. He dumped you when your old friend came back to town. He married her instead of you.” Wade’s voice held a hint of sympathy. “What a jerk!”

“Harrison wasn’t a jerk,” she murmured, staring into Wade’s knowing gaze. “He was just confused. I wasn’t what he wanted, but Grace was. She was very beautiful, just like a model. I couldn’t compete with that.”

“He was a fool. Beauty goes a lot deeper than the skin.” Wade’s hand dropped away from her face as he took a deep breath. His eyes hardened. “But don’t get any ideas, Miss Cartwright. I’m not in the market for a wife. And I am not Harrison’s replacement. Not in a million years.”

The pain he inflicted with those words bit deep and it was all she could do not to burst into tears. She didn’t want someone to replace Harrison! She wanted someone better than him, a man who would think she was as wonderful as Harrison found Grace; she wanted a storybook kind of love.

Clarissa walked out of his yard, crossed the alley and yanked her own gate open. She stopped, turned and stared at him, only then realizing that he’d followed her.

“No, you’re not him,” she agreed quietly. “I don’t think anyone could ever replace Harrison in my life.” Then she closed the gate, walked across the yard and into her big empty house.

“Harrison was a sign,” she whispered as she stared out the window at the falling rain. “A sign that I’m supposed to be alone. And you, Wade Featherhawk, just confirmed it.”

She forgot all about the pails as tears, hot and bitter, coursed down her cheeks. How it hurt, to have those children there and not to be able to love them as she wanted, to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sobbed to the Lord, determination setting her jaw. “I’ll be their mother in my heart. He can’t stop me from loving them. No one can.”

But as the tears dried and her heart calmed, Clarissa couldn’t help remembering the look on Wade’s face. He’d wanted to let her help, wanted to let her in. She’d seen that.

So why didn’t he? Why was he so afraid to trust, let her into his world?

Chapter Three

Eight weeks to the day after he’d moved to Waseka, Wade pulled up to the curb in front of his house at five minutes to six, and parked, grinding the gears as he hadn’t done since he was thirteen. He forced himself to open the truck door, even though every muscle in his body begged him to just sit there and vegetate.