Blowing on Dandelions (28 page)

She wanted to scream and fly down the stairs.
Enough is enough, God!
There was no way she could take more, and it wasn’t fair to ask it. Her daughter had nearly died today, and now the man she cared for was being attacked by her mother. Her mother, who didn’t appear to believe in her daughter’s sense of decency and right. Never in her life had Katherine so badly wanted to slap Mama and shake some sense into her. But all she could do was stand like a statue carved into the stairwell.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Frances gripped the banister post at the bottom of the stairs so hard she feared she’d break her hand. Right now she’d like to break that man’s face—better yet, wipe the shocked, innocent look off it and drive him out of the house with a horsewhip. That’s what her papa would have done if he had caught
her
in a compromising situation, and he’d not have thought twice about it either. She couldn’t believe the hurt on Katherine’s face. Frances had known something like this would happen if that man stayed here. She had done her best to thwart it, but evidently too little, too late.

“Grandma, what are you doing?” Lucy’s high-pitched voice sent daggers through Frances’s thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Her granddaughter stalked across the foyer with that Zachary boy on her heels. That one needed to leave as well.

“I am talking to your mother and”—she waved a dismissive hand at Micah Jacobs—“this person. It is not your concern. Find your little sister and go to your room. This is not a discussion that involves you children.”

Rustling emanated from the parlor, and Wilma Roberts swept into the room. “Is there a problem, ladies? And gentlemen.” She gazed from one to the other, then back at Frances. “I sent Beth to her room a couple minutes ago to freshen up for supper, but the house smelled like smoke, and it appeared no one was home.”

“Quite so.” Frances drew herself up straighter, appreciative of the fact she had an ally in Wilma Roberts. It was about time the woman proved herself useful.

Truth be told, she’d gone beyond what Frances expected in her attempt at friendship recently, and
this
gesture cemented it. Yes, indeed, when the household returned to normal, she would make it clear to Wilma how much she appreciated her efforts. “If you must know, my daughter has been …” She paused, not sure how to proceed.

“Enough, Mrs. Cooper!” Micah Jacobs’s words came out in a hard undertone, but they might as well have been a shout, there was so much force behind them. “I will not allow you to criticize Katherine. She has done nothing wrong. I insist you apologize.”

“Humph.” Frances glared up at the man, determined not to be the first to remove her gaze. “If Katherine is innocent, then I will lay the blame squarely where it belongs. At your feet.”

He stormed down the stairs, causing her to blink twice and back up a step. “I have done nothing wrong either.” His stern voice ground out the words. “If you had
asked
what happened rather than rushing to the most horrible conclusion possible, you would have your answer. Instead, you chose to believe the worst of your daughter, as I’ve seen you do time and again.”

Lucy made an indecipherable noise beside her. “Yes, Grandma. Ma didn’t do anything wrong, even if she won’t say anything. And I can’t get Mandy and take her to my room, because she’s already asleep on Ma’s bed. We just got back from the doctor’s office.”

Frances’s chest constricted, and a lump lodged in her throat. “Doctor’s office? Why? What?”

“Exactly the questions you should have started with, Mrs. Cooper.” Mr. Jacobs scowled, then worked to school his expression. “I am not trying to be disrespectful, but you are completely out of line. Katherine is a fine, wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve your vile accusations. She thought she’d lost Mandy today. Amanda followed Lucy and Zachary to the river and fell in.”

He waved at his silent son standing beside Lucy. “My boy dove in and pulled her out before she drowned. I came along as he waded out of the river carrying her. We got her to cough up the water she’d swallowed so she could breathe again. Lucy had run for help, and when she and Katherine arrived, I drove them to the doctor.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, as though trying to compose himself. “She’ll be fine, but we just got home and were coming from putting her to bed—
not
from visiting Katherine’s bedroom, as you assumed.”

Frances placed a hand over her heart and moaned. The room swam, and everything started to grow dark. The last thing she heard before she hit the floor was Katherine’s shocked voice. “Mama! Grab her, somebody!”

Katherine rushed forward on Micah’s heels. He scooped the tiny woman into his arms. “Where should I take her? To her room or the parlor?”

“Her room. She’ll be mortified if she wakes in the parlor and finds everyone watching.”

Lucy stomped her foot. “Ma! I can’t believe you. I heard every word Grandma said about you and Mr. Jacobs as I came through the door. You didn’t try to stop her. Now you want to make sure she’s not upset when she wakes up? At least Mr. Jacobs stood up to her, and it’s about time. Besides, I’ll bet she pretended to faint so she’d get all the attention.” She spun on her heel and dashed up the stairs and down the hall, slamming the door of her room hard enough they felt the vibration all the way downstairs.

Katherine wanted to follow, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Her daughter needed time to cool down and Mama required care whether Lucy understood it or not. She silently led the way to Mama’s room and opened the door, then turned to Mrs. Roberts. “Would you mind helping me?”

“Not at all, dear. That’s why I came.” The older woman drew down the quilt. “Such a shame she doesn’t see things more clearly. Always saying something she will live to regret. Never seeing the damage her words do to the ones she loves most. So sad.” She peered with compassion at Frances.

Micah placed Mama on the bed and stepped back. “I’ll go check on Zachary, and let Mr. Tucker and Miss Roberts know supper will be late.”

Katherine nodded, her gaze still on her mother. “Thank you. But Mr. Tucker told me he wouldn’t be here this evening.” She turned to Mrs. Roberts. “Do you need to acquaint Beth with what’s happening?”

“She’s all right. The girl has a sensible head on her shoulders, as well as a fine set of ears. I’m certain she’s already familiar with the circumstances and will make herself useful when needed.” She raised a hand toward Micah. “Mr. Jacobs, if you happen to see her, ask her to heat the pot of stew and slice a loaf of bread left over from dinner. I think that will do fine for our supper, don’t you, Mrs. Galloway?”

Katherine blinked, coming back to the business at hand. “Yes. Thank you.” She gave Micah a tired smile as he exited the room, then focused on her mother, who stirred. “Mama, are you all right? What can I get you?”

Mama regarded her with a dazed expression. “Head hurts a little. Must have bumped it when I fell.” She lifted a hand and touched a spot above her left ear.

Katherine’s heart jerked. “Maybe we should call the doctor.”

“No! No doctor.” Mama clutched her sleeve. “I shall be fine after I rest. Not sure what got into me. I woke up. So worried when I smelled smoke … thought the house was on fire. Couldn’t find anyone. Scared me. Alone. So alone.” Her lids drifted shut.

“Mama?” Katherine touched her mother’s forehead and looked at Mrs. Roberts. “What do you think? Should I call the doctor?”

“I’m not sure. She could need to sleep, is all. I don’t know much about head injuries, but it makes sense she’d want to rest.”

“Let’s keep an eye on her for the evening and decide the next time she wakes.” Katherine tugged off her mother’s shoes. “Should we try to undress her, or wait?”

Mrs. Roberts shook her head. “Let’s wait. She may not thank us for doing it now.”

Katherine peered at her mother lying so still on the bed. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and a snore came from between her parted lips. She drew a quilt up to her mother’s chin, then rested a hand on her forehead.

Mrs. Roberts waited at the foot of the bed. “I will stay with her while you take care of your family. And I must say, Mrs. Galloway, I admire the way you have dealt with this episode.”

Katherine clamped down on her emotions, even though she deeply appreciated the kindness that prompted the words. “You heard what my mother said?”

“I’m afraid so, as did anyone who was in the house at the time. I am thankful Mr. Tucker wasn’t present, for your sake.” She gestured toward the still form. “And for hers. I’m afraid she stepped over a line tonight and embarrassed herself greatly. I feel sorry for her.”

“Sorry? For my mother? That’s hard to believe after the way she’s treated you.” Katherine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d experienced this emotional conflict before when it came to Mama.

Part of her was so angry she was shaking inside, while the other part felt nothing but a deep, abiding pity for her parent. Love didn’t enter into her emotions, even though she wished it would. She wanted to love Mama—and more than that, she wanted to feel loved.

But it was getting harder and harder to believe that was possible.

Frances lay with her eyes closed, listening for all she was worth. She must have drifted off for a second or two, but the words
“stepped over a line”
had jerked her from slumber. She tried to keep her face expressionless but almost sat upright when Katherine replied. She’d felt a slight sense of triumph that Wilma Roberts seemed to care, even though it irked her that the woman thought she’d embarrassed herself.

But Katherine. Her own daughter. There was no compassion or love in her voice. Had she truly earned that degree of contempt? Well, maybe she didn’t hear contempt in the soft words, but there was surely no respect. The Bible commanded children to respect their parents. Or was that honor? It didn’t matter. Katherine didn’t show signs of either.

“Yes, I feel very sorry for her.” Wilma’s voice droned on, emphasizing those horrid words yet again. “Your mother doesn’t realize how other people view her. If she did, I don’t believe she would act the way she does.”

Katherine snorted, something between a laugh and a choking sound. Frances couldn’t be completely sure, but it sounded more like a laugh. “Then you don’t know Mama very well. She has never cared what anyone thinks about her. She says what she wants, and it wouldn’t matter if you wore a sign saying ‘You are hurting me’ around your neck. She would keep on doing it. People’s opinions do not matter to Mama.”

Frances almost recoiled at her daughter’s cold tone. Did Katherine really believe she didn’t care? She had winced at Wilma’s words, hating the idea that people might talk behind her back or view her in any way but a positive light. All right, she would admit that some people’s opinions mattered very little, but that certainly did not include everyone. Some folks were entirely too sensitive and got their feelings hurt too easily. It was impossible to make everyone happy. She must remember those points and make sure to bring them up to Mrs. Roberts the next time they had occasion to speak. That was,
if
she deigned to speak to the woman again.

“I am not positive that’s entirely true, my dear. She wants you to believe that, and perhaps it could be true for the most part, but deep down each of us wants to trust we are loved, respected, and yes, even liked, by the people around us. I don’t think your mother is an exception.”

Frances’s ears pricked at Wilma’s astute commentary. She had put her finger on it this time. Respect. Of course that was exactly what Frances wanted and expected. It was her right. At her age, she should be respected and honored. No, she did not want everyone to love her or even to like her; there were too many people she couldn’t be bothered to like in return. But respect and honor were entirely different matters.

“Well, she’s not earned much respect from me over the years, I am sorry to say.” Katherine heaved a deep sigh as though it pained her to speak the words. “I’ve tried to love her, truly I have. More times than I can count. But she makes it so difficult. She’s full of sharp edges and flings out her opinion without a thought of what it might do. She has wounded me so many times I’ve felt like a battle-torn soldier who crawled back to his hole to die.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t say I am terribly surprised. Something in her life has turned Frances into a bitter, vindictive woman. It’s too bad she can’t take that pain and give it to her heavenly Father. That is the only way she will attain true peace or gain the respect she is so hungry for.”

Frances lay motionless, barely able to breathe. They detested her. Both of them detested her. They thought she was an evil person with no feelings or regard for others. Her own daughter said she had wounded her to the point of wanting to crawl off and die. When had she ever said anything that could hurt that deeply?