Small-Town Moms (2 page)

“We'll head on over to Mrs. Hargrove's place if the woman doesn't get here soon,” Clint said. He had enough to worry about for himself and Lilly; Joe would have to take care of himself. “Then we'll come back for ice cream afterward. How does that sound?”

Lilly shrugged.

Clint figured he would wait another five minutes for the woman and not a second longer. Just then he heard the door to the café open.

The minute Clint had looked up he'd known it was Maegan Shay. How did she manage to look so fragile? Maybe it was the teddy bear she held that made her seem young. No, it was her skin that did it. The door was open behind her and the morning light made her skin seem translucent. Pale freckles were sprinkled across her nose. Strands of blond hair swept back from her face in a loose style of some sort. Her eyes were solemn and large. She seemed hesitant.

“You can't be an attorney,” he blurted out when she took a step closer. The paperwork had said she was thirty-two, but she didn't look more than nineteen.

A pink blush swept over her face. “I passed the bar exam so technically I am—even though I'm working
as a paralegal now. The firm has promised me the next opening though. They like my work.”

Clint was pulled back by the quiet dignity of her words. “I'm sorry. It's none of my business.”

He stood up and waited for her to arrive at their table before arranging a chair for her.

“We don't have much time,” he added as she sat down. He actually had all morning, but somehow he didn't think he should spend too much time in the presence of this woman. She reminded him of a butterfly and he half expected her to flit away. He didn't want to risk disappointing Lilly if she did.

“I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” she said.

Clint grunted as she sat down. She might look like a butterfly, but she had that same stiff way of moving that Lilly did—like she wasn't sure if she was welcome. For the first time he believed she really was Lilly's aunt. He was going to ask if she'd like him to call for some more coffee when he saw that she wasn't listening to him. All of her attention had moved to Lilly.

Suddenly, he realized all of the reasons a genuine relative might want to see Lilly.

“Joe—he wins some at the rodeos, but he doesn't have much in the way of steady money. He probably does owe back child support to Lilly's mother though. Well, her estate I guess now. I'm sure there were expenses with everything. If that's what you need, we can come to some agreement.” Joe wouldn't pay anything, but Clint figured he could spare ten or twenty thousand dollars. The crops had been good last year. And he believed in paying his family's debts.

“I don't want any money.”

Clint saw distaste twist the woman's mouth, but he couldn't even speak his worst fear.

Dear Lord, don't let her be here for Lilly. I know Joe is her father, but if someone challenged it, the courts might not see the wisdom of him raising her. I'm not even sure I see the wisdom of him raising her. But she's a Parker. She needs to be with her family—even if it's just me.

Clint took a deep breath. The woman didn't seem interested in talking to him and he wasn't going to give voice to his fears anyway so he kept quiet. No point in arming the enemy.

“I brought you a present.” Maegan held out the teddy bear to the girl.

Clint figured Lilly would ignore the bear. He'd already bought her stuffed animals and a funny-looking raccoon puppet. She hadn't shown any interest in anything resembling a toy. She had several tiny porcelain dolls that she kept locked away in her suitcase, but he figured they were more like keepsakes than toys. Then he saw a tiny flicker in the middle of the brown fur and saw that the suspenders the bear was wearing were studded with brass beads of some sort. And it looked like red glass beads lined the animal's collar.

“I'm making a bridle,” Lilly said as she reached for the bear.

“Well, that's good,” the woman said as she smiled down at the child. “Do you have a horse?”

As he expected, Lilly shook her head as she folded herself back into her silence. The brown bear was big enough she could almost hide behind it. She shifted it in her arms and there was the sound of something dropping to the floor of the café. One of the shiny brass beads
from the suspenders had fallen off and rolled away from the table.

“I'll get it,” Lilly said as she stood up and took a few steps toward it.

Clint saw the woman freeze when she saw Lilly's limp and then her shoes. He had been trying to find some kind of shoes that would be comfortable for Lilly but wouldn't label her as a girl with problem feet. She had brachymetatarsia which meant one toe was shorter than it should be. She could have an operation to correct it when her feet were fully grown, but for now she had to wear special shoes and walk as best she could. There was nothing really wrong with Lilly though and he didn't want some big-city woman looking down her nose at her. Not every little girl was tiptoeing around in play high heels, dreaming of being a princess, and he dared anyone to pity his niece.

“Lilly likes beads,” Clint said, more for the sake of distracting the woman than for telling her anything she couldn't see for herself.

The woman nodded and glanced over at Clint. At least that meant she wasn't staring at Lilly.

“She's making the bridle for her father. My brother, Joe,” Clint added.

“Yes.” The woman brought her gaze back to him. She was allowing Lilly to walk back to the table unobserved. “He's away at a rodeo, I think you said earlier.”

Clint nodded. He had to admit she was sensitive to Lilly's feelings. He didn't want to talk about Joe, but, if he had to say something, he wanted to make his brother look as good as possible—which was hard because he hadn't seen his brother since he brought Lilly to the ranch. “He's never more than a phone call away.”

Well, of course, except for when he was in Brazil, Clint thought, realizing too late he'd left himself wide open. She must know his brother had been unreachable for years. That was part of Lilly's foster care system record.

“Lilly loves her father,” he added quickly and forced himself to smile. “He should be back in a week or so.”

The woman nodded. “Good. I'd like to meet him.”

“But—” Clint sputtered. He never would have said anything if he thought there was a chance she'd want to stay and meet Joe. “His rodeo schedule is pretty much up in the air. And we wouldn't want to keep you. He might not get back for a while.”

“But his birthday—” Lilly interrupted, panic in her voice.

“Oh, I'm sure he'll be back for his birthday.” Clint regretted his earlier words already. “But that's not until the week after next. Miss Shay, here, has to get back to her job.”

“I have time.” With that, the woman folded her hands and leaned back in her chair.

“But Dry Creek doesn't have a hotel,” Clint protested with the first reason that came to mind. A beautiful woman like her would want a million nice things that this small town didn't offer. He knew that because his ex-fiancée had taken one look at Dry Creek and dumped him rather than attempt to spend a lifetime here. A woman like the one in front of him probably felt the same need for beauty salons and gourmet restaurants. Of course, it wasn't like she was deciding to spend her life here. Even his ex-fiancée could have managed a few days if she'd tried.

The woman shrugged. “I'll find someplace to stay. It doesn't need to be fancy.”

Clint was trying to think of more reasons to convince her to leave. But then Lilly spoke. “Did you know my mother? Before she went to heaven?”

“No, sweetie,” the woman said softly. “But I knew her mother, your grandmother.”

All of Clint's resolve left him. The woman might be able to give some comfort to Lilly. Maybe she could get Lilly to chatter away like a little girl should. Lilly certainly had never responded to him when he asked about her mother.

Clint swallowed and said what he needed to say. “Mrs. Hargrove-Nelson—well, I always still think of her as Mrs. Hargrove—has a room over her garage that she sometimes rents out for a few days. She's got the first house on your left as you drive into town. I'll see Lilly has time to visit with you if you stay. You can tell Mrs. Hargrove I sent you.”

“Is hers the house with the picket fence around it?”

Clint nodded. “That's the one.”

His fate was sealed. But he was willing to suffer more than the company of one unknown woman if it would make Lilly happy. The truth was he and Lilly needed help. The woman probably even knew how to braid hair. Clint had braided a horse tail or two in his time and he'd made the mistake of thinking that braiding a little girl's hair would be the same. Lilly had been in tears yesterday when she looked in the mirror. Her mother apparently had always started the braid higher on the back of her head.

Clint never thought he'd be a father, especially not to a girl. He might have managed to guide a boy into
manhood, but Lilly needed things he didn't even know about. His need had driven him back to church, and he'd been praying more than he had in his life since Lilly came. But things hadn't improved much. Maybe he needed to be open to the possibility that God was answering his prayer with this woman.
Just don't let her take Lilly from me. I'll do anything else You ask, Lord. Just, please, not that.

M
aegan woke the next morning and squinted as she lay in bed. Bright sunlight was streaming in the window and hitting the wall above her head. She'd had her doubts yesterday, but the room over Mrs. Hargrove's garage was lovely. A small bathroom was off to one side, and the main room held a double bed covered with white cotton bedding and the softest pillows Maegan had ever known. She wondered idly if the older woman had made the pillows from the feathers of some geese she'd had on the farm where she'd lived before retiring and moving into Dry Creek. In the short time she'd spent with Mrs. Hargrove yesterday, Maegan had learned the older woman had all kinds of “country” skills.

Maegan stretched. She had slept deeply, but was still surprised to awake feeling so content. She wondered if it was because she had found another piece of the mosaic that was her family. She never pictured herself as a wife or mother. All of her hope of belonging to a family had gone when God didn't provide her with adoptive parents willing to take her and her two sisters. Maybe that's why
finding her birth family, even though it was too late to be a family in the same way, was so satisfying.

She'd called her sister Olivia last night before going to bed. Her sister said she'd been waiting to hear all about their niece. Olivia had a daughter about Lilly's age and she said that, from what she had heard, Lilly seemed to be doing well enough for her age.

Maegan felt a little guilty because she didn't mention Lilly's foot problem. Maybe it was because watching the girl had been like looking into the mirror of her past. She had known her foot problem, brachymetatarsia, was inherited, but it was still rare enough she had never expected anyone else in the family to suffer with it.

Besides, there was no need for Olivia to worry about Lilly. She had enough problems just getting her and her daughter ready to make their trip to Mule Hollow to visit Lilly's younger brother.

Maegan wanted to be the one to worry about Lilly. The girl needed an aunt who understood what it was like to feel clumsy and misshapen. Maegan knew she wasn't suited to being a mother, but helping Lilly with her foot problems was close to parenting. She was surprised that she relished the prospect. In fact, if it ever worked out for Lilly to come live with her, she would—

Whoa—that thought stopped her cold and made her sit up in bed. Where had that idea come from? She hadn't driven to Dry Creek intending to do anything crazy like ask Lilly to live with her. She had only wanted to be sure the girl was all right, that she had someone to care for her. Maegan knew she had no business trying to raise a child. Parenting was a mystery to her; she had known so little of it herself she didn't even know all of the mistakes she could make.

Unfortunately, once she tasted the idea, it rolled around in her mind like some out-of-control marble. It was a foolish thing to think about on a morning like this, but she couldn't seem to let it go.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, shaking her head just to get some blood moving through it. She had done enough research when challenging the foster care system in her search for her sisters that she knew how important good parenting was. So many things could go wrong. She would do better to spend her time looking at the realities that were in place now instead of daydreaming that she would make a good mother. Lilly might not trust Clint, but he cared about her. It was obvious when he looked at the girl. Lilly probably just needed more time to adjust to the changes in her life. She'd gone from living with her mother, to living with her rodeo-loving father, to staying on the ranch with—

Maegan stopped herself again. It hadn't really sunk in until now that Clint wasn't Lilly's guardian any more than she was. The person who should be here taking care of Lilly was her father. He was supposed to be the pillar in her life. Where was the man? How many rodeos did the man ride in anyway? What if he took it into his mind to go back to Brazil?

She stood up on the cold wood floor and wished she had socks on her feet. Even with the morning sunshine, she wouldn't mind some additional warmth. She'd do well to find out more about both of the Parker brothers.

There was a knock at the door and a voice called out. “It's Edith.”

Mrs. Hargrove-Nelson had instructed her yesterday
to call her by her first name even though Maegan didn't feel right doing so. Instead, she followed the lead of others and called her Mrs. Hargrove. According to Clint, the older woman had become so well-known in this community that most people still called her what they had for years even after she married her long-time friend, Charlie Nelson. She didn't seem to mind and neither did he.

“Come in,” Maegan invited as she combed her fingers through her hair. Her barrette was on the top of the dresser, but it would take too long to pull her hair back.

The older woman opened the door and peeked around it. Smile lines crowded her plain face and her eyes were warm. Her gray hair was set in pin curls and covered with a black net. She stepped into the room and Maegan saw she wore a loose-fitting gingham housedress, covered by a white bib apron, and black sensible shoes with ties and thick heels. She held a small tray that looked a little heavy.

“Remember, the room comes with my complimentary breakfast,” the older woman said.

Maegan walked over to take the tray. “It smells wonderful, but you shouldn't have carried it up the stairs. I would have gladly gone down and brought it up.”

“I can manage,” the woman said with a grin as she handed over the tray. “Besides, my Charlie fixed those steps last spring so they're a pure pleasure to climb.”

A plate with two biscuits sat on the tray next to a silver butter knife and a small jar of melted honey. A delicate china cup was sitting next to a dish of butter. A red thermos stuck out of Mrs. Hargrove's apron pocket
and, now that Maegan had taken the tray from her, the older woman set it on the dresser.

“This looks delicious.” Maegan carefully set the tray down on the dresser as well. She had bought some twist-it cans of biscuits over the years. But these biscuits made those look like rocks. Golden brown and fluffy, they were just right. Who made biscuits like these anymore?

A mother, that's who, Maegan realized. A woman who believed in making the food her family ate with her own hands. A woman like that probably canned her own fruit and pinned her laundry on an outside line to dry in the summer sun.

“Do you knit?” Maegan asked, suddenly feeling the weight of her inadequacies. She didn't know how to do any of those things. She'd make a terrible mother.

“I can knit a little.” Mrs. Hargrove looked up in surprise. “Mostly just the basic stitches though.”

“You daughter must have loved that.” Maegan had already heard about the older woman's grown daughter. Apparently, Doris June had returned to Dry Creek some years ago and married her old high school sweetheart. “With the knitting and the biscuits, what girl wouldn't love it?”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “Well, mine wasn't too excited about my knitting when she was growing up, but she used to love my biscuits. Until she became a teenager. Then, she worried there were too many calories. But once in a while on a Sunday morning she'd have one and—oh, her face, it just lit up with happiness.”

Mrs. Hargrove looked as though she were remembering those days. Then she brought herself back. “Well, you don't want to hear about all that. I forgot to mention
I serve breakfast early on Sunday mornings. I always get up around six so I can go over my lesson—I teach a Sunday school class.”

“You really must have been a great mother.” The woman was even a teacher.

Mrs. Hargrove shook her head. “I made some big mistakes. Most parents do, I suppose, but I have to think my prayers were what made the difference.”

Maegan didn't know what to say. She wasn't surprised that God would answer the prayers of a sweet old lady like Mrs. Hargrove. “That's nice.” She felt something more was required in the conversation, but it took her a minute. “I suppose you know all about how to pray.”

Maegan had always been curious about those people who got answers to their prayers. She wondered if she had made some mistake in the way she prayed as a child. She'd tried really hard back then to convince God that it was important for her and her sisters to be together, but maybe she'd folded her hands wrong or called Him by the wrong name or something.

Maybe God just didn't like her. Whatever the reason He hadn't wanted to help her, she figured it was best left unspoken.

The aroma of brewed tea spread throughout the room as Maegan opened the thermos. The older woman had asked last night if she preferred coffee or tea.

“There's no special know-how in praying to God,” Mrs. Hargrove said quietly. “He's the one who does the work. We just talk to Him.”

“Oh.” Maegan swallowed and forgot about the tea she'd just poured. She had held out hope that she had made a mistake all those years ago that could be cor
rected. Now, it seemed His indifference was personal. “He didn't do anything when I prayed to Him.”

“When was that, dear?”

“A long time ago—” Maegan stopped. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Of course, it does,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she stepped closer and put her hand on Maegan's arm. “Especially if you still remember it.”

“I'm not likely to forget.”

Maegan started to lift her cup of tea before setting it back down and blurting out, “I don't think He wanted me to pray.”

“God wants everyone to have the kind of relationship with Him that makes them want to visit with Him in prayer,” the older woman stated with quiet confidence.

“Visit?” Maegan was taken back. “I hadn't planned on visiting. I just asked Him for something.”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “Like throwing a coin in a wishing well?”

“I suppose.”

“Well, that is the problem right there. God isn't a wishing well.”

It was silent for a moment, then the older woman spoke. “Lilly's in my Sunday school class this morning. I thought you might like to sit in today so you can be with her.”

Maegan forgot all about God as she thought about the invitation. This might be her only opportunity to see how her niece acted around other children. The girl had seemed so subdued yesterday and the time they'd spent together at the café had been short. Surely with her friends she would be more animated.

Still, Maegan didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. “Have you asked Clint about that? He seems to keep a close eye on Lilly. I know he's said I can see her, but I don't think he'd want me to just show up someplace where she is. You know, without warning or anything.”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “He loves his niece. But he'd agree everyone is welcome at the church.”

“I hope you're right.”

The smile left Mrs. Hargrove's face and she was serious. “Clint might not always come across as the most friendly man you'll ever meet, but there's not a man around with a better heart. He grew up hard, with a father who wasn't much good for anything. Raised his younger brother, too. And he'd lay down his life for Lilly if he had to—”

Maegan gave a curt nod. She knew she shouldn't say anything to anyone, but she had never been too successful at holding her tongue. Besides, she didn't have time to be subtle. “Clint's not really the one with custody though, is he?”

Mrs. Hargrove's face went a little pale. “It would break Clint's heart if you took that girl away from here.”

“But how about Lilly's father?” Maegan pressed on. “How does he feel about being with her?”

Mrs. Hargrove pressed her lips together. “Joe is still finding his way in life. But he means well—he's just—”

The other woman didn't need to say any more. Maegan could write a book about parents who meant well. The foster care system was full of stories like that.
She looked at Mrs. Hargrove. “I think I'll take you up on your invitation. I'd enjoy getting to know Lilly better.”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “We're going to be talking about King Solomon today. Do you have a Bible with you?”

“Me? No.” She didn't own a Bible. After her prayer incident, she had avoided everything to do with church. Some years later, after she was on her own, she had looked up the Christmas story one December when she was in a hotel room in Milwaukee. She'd read it straight through, but hadn't believed much of what she read. God really wouldn't send a baby some place where the little one might be killed, would He? No wonder He hadn't answered her prayer. Child Protective Services would be all over someone who did that today. Hopefully this King Solomon would know better than to endanger a baby.

“I'll be happy to lend you one of my Bibles for the day then,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “It helps to read the story for yourself.”

Maegan was going to take the older woman's word for it. She didn't have time to start reading the Bible. She had to figure out what Lilly's future should be. One thing she knew for sure, she wasn't going to soften and say that Joe Parker was suited to being a parent for her niece unless she knew it was one hundred percent true.

Now that she had met Lilly, she wanted to make sure the girl had the best life possible. Maegan hadn't found the perfect family for herself when she was growing up, but she'd find it for Lilly if she had to. It was one of the reasons she'd taken the loans to become a lawyer. She
wanted to be able to help her family, financially and in other ways, and she'd realized the law helped her to do that.

 

Clint felt like he'd been squeezed into the shape of a pretzel and then stomped upon until he was low to the ground. He was sitting on a child's wooden chair in the church basement. Small square windows lined the top of the concrete room and a row of crayon pictures of Moses parting the Red Sea were taped midway between the windows and the gray speckled linoleum floor. Mrs. Hargrove's Sunday school class was supposed to be for eight-and nine-year-olds, but the woman was so beloved there were kids as old as fifteen mixed in with the regular attendees. Clint's only excuse for being there was that Mrs. Hargrove had called and told him Maegan was going to sit in for the class.