BEVERLY BARTON - Jack's Christmas Mission

“You’re a guest in my home, a temporary visitor.” She paused as if uncertain how to explain. “You’ll be treated with hospitality, of course, but…don’t try to ingratiate yourself to my housekeeper, Hetty, or to my daughter.”

Jack stared at her, puzzled by her statement. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me. In what way do you want me not to ingratiate myself to your housekeeper or your daughter? Are you saying don’t be charming, don’t make friends?”

“Exactly—don’t make friends. You’re a transitory fixture in our lives, and I don’t want Hetty trying to make something personal out of a relationship that is strictly business. And I certainly don’t want Wendy becoming attached to you in any way.”

Realization dawned. “Ah. I understand. You don’t want me playing daddy to your daughter. And you don’t want the housekeeper trying to play matchmaker for us.” Jack chuckled. Lordy. Lordy. He’d known some uptight women in his life, but Miss Peggy Jo sure did take the cake. Not only was she cautious and afraid for herself, but for her child, too. Poor little girl. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Wendy Riley or her mother.

“Just do the job you’ve been hired to do and keep your Southern charm to yourself.” With that said, Peggy Jo opened her car door, got out and rounded the hood.

Jack followed quickly, up the steps and onto the large wraparound porch. Before they reached the front door, it opened to reveal a stout, gray-haired woman standing just inside the foyer.

“Come on in, you two,” the housekeeper said, smiling broadly. “It’s getting cold out there.” She ushered them inside hurriedly, then held out her hand. “Let me take your jacket and hat, Mr. Parker.”

So, this was Hetty, Jack thought. A motherly type. Round and cheerful and fussing over them like a mother hen.

He handed her his denim jacket and black Stetson. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Her smile widened until it reached from ear to ear, deepening the faint lines around her brown eyes and in her rosy cheeks. “You can call me Hetty. I’m the housekeeper and nanny around here, but Peggy Jo will tell you that we’re all family in this house.”

“Nice to meet you, Hetty.” Jack offered her his hand. “You can call me Jack.”

Hetty hung his coat and hat on the ornate oak hall tree, then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m sure glad to meet you, young fella. We’re glad to have you with us. I’ve been telling Peggy Jo for months now that her crazy admirer wasn’t going away and what we needed—what she needed—was a man around here.”

“Well, Hetty, I’m your man.” Jack winked at her.

Hetty giggled. “My, my, I like you already.”

“If you two are finished with your mutual admiration society meeting…” Peggy Jo said with a look of exasperation.

“Oh, just ignore her,” Hetty said. “Come on in and meet the real boss around here.”

Peggy Jo sighed, then asked, “Where is Wendy?”

“She’s eating supper in the kitchen,” Hetty replied.

“Why is she eating now? She knew I’d be home in time for us to eat together.”

Hetty smiled, then glanced over at Jack. “Wendy had me set up things in the dining room for you and our guest, so the two of you could have supper together.”

“What!” Peggy Jo’s eyes narrowed to slits as she frowned.

“Don’t go fussing at her,” Hetty said. “She can’t help being excited. It’s the first time her mama has brought a man home with her.”

“This is ridiculous. I told her plainly that Mr. Parker is an employee, hired by me to…to watch over me.” Peggy Jo marched through the living room and into the dining room.

As Jack and Hetty followed, Hetty said, “You should know, for future reference, that her bark is much worse than her bite.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Jack replied. “But she sure does have a mighty fierce bark, doesn’t she?”

“Candles!” Peggy Jo shrieked. “Soft lighting, our best china, crystal and silver. Hetty Ballard, what sort of nonsense have you been putting in Wendy’s head about Mr. Parker and me?”

Nonplussed by the accusation against her, Hetty plopped a wide, meaty hand on her hip. “You’re accusing me unjustly. I’ve kept my mouth shut the whole livelong day. Wendy came up with this idea all on her own. And don’t you dare scold her, and I mean it. She thinks we’ve done something really special for you, and she can keep on thinking that if you don’t spoil this for her.”

“But I can’t let her think that there’s anything romantic going on between Mr. Parker and me,” Peggy Jo said. “I thought she understood last night when I explained the situation to her.”

“She’s a six-year-old who doesn’t have a daddy, and no matter what you tell her about Mr. Parker—” Hetty grinned “—about Jack, she’s going to hope…”

“I’ll have to speak with her again.” Peggy Jo headed for the kitchen. “We can’t have her dreaming up some romance—”

Hetty grabbed Peggy Jo’s arm, halting her. “Don’t spoil this for her. Not tonight. Save your talk for tomorrow. One day can’t hurt.”

Jack could tell that Peggy Jo was mulling the matter over in her mind, going through a battle trying to decide. Maybe he should step in and handle this situation.

“How about letting me talk to Wendy?” Jack suggested. “After you and I enjoy dinner by candlelight.”

Peggy Jo sighed; her shoulders drooped in defeat. “All right. I’ll wait until after dinner. But, Mr. Parker, I will explain your presence in our lives, in our home, to Wendy. Not you.”

If Hetty hadn’t become like a member of the family these past six years, Peggy Jo would fire her. Ever since Wendy started asking why she didn’t have a daddy, Hetty had spurred the child on in her requests for a father. And Hetty knew good and well that she never intended to remarry.

“Come on out to the kitchen and meet my daughter,” Peggy Jo said to Jack Parker, then glanced at Hetty. “Go ahead and serve dinner for us here in the dining room. But only tonight. If in the future Wendy comes up with any more nonsense like this, you’re not to encourage her.”

Peggy Jo couldn’t be truly angry with her daughter. She understood how much a father meant to a little girl—and to a big girl, too. Sometimes she felt guilty that she wasn’t able to give Wendy something as important as a father. To this day she missed her own father almost as much as she missed her mother. One of the most difficult things she had coped with in the therapy sessions she’d had during her time at the shelter and for years afterward, had been accepting the fact that although her father had still been alive during her difficult marriage, he hadn’t been able to be a real part of her life.

The moment she entered the kitchen, Wendy jumped up and came barreling toward Peggy Jo, then lifted her arms and cried out, “Mommy, you’re home!”

Peggy Jo picked up the fifty pounds of adorable mischief, who immediately straddled her legs around Peggy Jo’s waist. The two exchanged a big bear hug, then Wendy giggled as she stared at the man who came through the doorway directly behind Hetty.

“Are you the man who’s going to look after my mommy?” Wendy asked, squirming to be put down.

Peggy Jo obliged her by setting her back in the chair at the table. “This is Mr. Parker, the gentleman I told you I’d hired. He’s going to be our guest for a while.” Peggy Jo pointed to the plate of food in front of Wendy. “Now that you’ve met him, you can finish your supper and then one hour of TV before your bath.”

“Hey, there, Mr. Parker.” Wendy lifted her fork, but she didn’t take her eyes off Jack.

“Howdy, there, Miss Wendy.” He came forward, crouched to his haunches and shook hands with Wendy. “It’s mighty nice to meet you.”