Judy Christenberry - Finding A Family

“Dad?”

“Welcome home, son. Have you met Timmy?”

The little boy drew closer to Carl before he shyly said, “Hi.”

“Hello,” Hank said, frowning. Then he looked at his father again. “Where is she?”

“You mean Maggie? I believe she’s putting in a load of laundry.” Carl put his arm around Timmy. “She’s a terrific housekeeper. And, man, can she cook!”

Hank felt as though his father had betrayed him. He’d been pleading with his father to eat, to talk, to smile. Now, a woman he hadn’t hired—an imposter—had come and his father had gleefully done all three for her.

He ripped open the back door and entered the house. Larry waited on the porch with the elder Brownlee and the little boy.

In the laundry room, he discovered the young woman in the photograph. “I didn’t hire you!” he exclaimed.

She straightened, her figure trim in snug-fitting jeans and a T-shirt. “I beg your pardon?”

“I didn’t hire you. I hired Maggie!”

“Are you Hank?” she asked calmly.

“Yes! And you’re not Maggie!”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not! Maggie was the older lady.”

“That’s my aunt Kate. The one in the picture with us?”

“I had no intention of hiring someone with a child. I won’t have it. You have to leave!”

Maggie continued to load the dryer. She closed the lid and cleaned out the lint trap before starting the machine. Then she turned and walked past him without saying a word.

Hank spun around and followed her to the small bedroom he’d planned for the housekeeper. He noted at once that it was spotless. He certainly hadn’t left it that way. But that didn’t matter.

“Did you hear me?”

She didn’t answer, but she took a suitcase out of the closet and began packing. She looked over the lid at him. “It will take about an hour to get my things packed. Then we’ll leave. I assume you will explain my leaving to your father?”

“Sure! I’ll—I’ll tell him you didn’t like it here.” He was quite surprised by her compliance.

“But that would be a lie. Never mind. I’ll explain everything to him when I say goodbye.”

“What will you tell him?”

“The truth. That you fired me.”

“You can’t tell him that!”

She straightened and stared at him. “Why not?”

“It might upset him.”

“Mr. Brownlee, whatever you tell your father, he’ll be upset. For the first time in a year, he’s eating good meals and gaining weight. He’s sitting outside and enjoying the warm weather. He’s taking an interest in the people around him. And he’s very kind to Timmy. Sometimes he forgets and even calls Timmy Hank, but Timmy doesn’t mind.

“If you want to fire me, that’s your right. But I won’t let that sweet man think I’m leaving on my own accord.”

Hank glared at her. “Damn you!” he muttered and turned and left the room.

He stormed out onto the porch where three pairs of male eyes stared at him.

“What’s wrong, son?” Carl asked. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I didn’t hire a twenty-something with a child to be the housekeeper. I hired a nice fifty-year-old to cook and clean for us.”

His father looked at him calmly and asked, “What difference does it make? Maggie is terrific at both and Timmy is keeping me company, aren’t you, Timmy boy?”

Hank had no answer. When he’d left home a week ago, his father had been acting like a zombie. He was still too thin, but he was talking with the people around him. Carl was really interacting with the little boy, Larry, and obviously, Maggie.

Now what could he do?

He heard footsteps on the porch behind him. In a cool voice Maggie said quietly, “Timmy, I need you to come in, sweetie.”

Timmy whispered to Carl, “I have to go.”

He edged his way around Hank, as if he thought Hank was dangerous, and walked quickly to the back door. Then the little boy disappeared into the house.

“You scared the boy,” Carl said in a chiding voice.

“I didn’t mean to. But, Dad, they’re going to have to go.”

“Why?”

Hank couldn’t come up with an answer.

“She cooks like an angel, she cleans like an army of people, and she’s easy on the eyes, too. What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s too young for you, Dad!” Hank replied, anger in his voice.

“Mercy, boy, I’m not looking for a woman, but having a good-looking one around isn’t a bad thing.”

“Dad, you don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me then,” the older man said. He sounded so reasonable, so much like the father Hank remembered…and had thought never to see or hear again.

“I want her to stay, son,” Carl said softly.

Hank dropped his head. “Okay, Dad,” Hank muttered. “You win.”

He turned around and went into the house. He could hear activity in the spare bedroom. He stepped to the door.

Timmy was the first to see him. The little boy gasped as though he’d seen the devil himself. That got his mother’s attention at once.

“Timmy?”

“It’s him, Mommy!” The little boy grabbed her leg and hid behind her.

She straightened and confronted Hank, stare-for-stare. “Is there something else, Mr. Brownlee? Do you want to search our luggage to be sure we’re not stealing something from our luxury accommodations?”

Hank hated to be put in the wrong. Her sarcasm struck home. He hadn’t even cleaned the room for her arrival. After all, she was the cleaning expert. But he knew he’d been a slacker there. “I apologize for not cleaning the room. I’ve been pretty busy with my dad.”

“And you’re here now because…”

She waited for him to fill in the blank.

With his cheeks red, Hank struggled to get the words out. “It’s—it’s not necessary for you to leave.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” She returned to her packing, as if he were no longer there.

Hank drew a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I’m not firing you.”

She ignored him.

“Damn it! My dad wants you to stay.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve scared Tim.”

Since she continued to pack, Hank realized he’d have to rectify his wrongs. He knelt down on one knee. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hank said, trying to soften the gruff note in his voice. His attempt to hide his irritation failed miserably.

Suddenly the little boy was crying, and his mother stopped packing to console him.

“What’s wrong? What did I say wrong?”

Hank wanted to withdraw, to let them leave, but his father had asked that they stay. What could he do? “Look, can you at least stay another week, see if we can all get along? Dad needs what you’ve been giving him. He needs Timmy. I think Timmy is helping Dad get well.”

The little boy raised his head from his mother’s shoulder and sniffed. “He has lots of boo-boos.”

“Yes, he does. But he’ll get better with your help, Timmy. Will you and your Mommy stay a little while?”

“I like it here…but you scare me.”

Hank ground his teeth. “I promise I won’t scare you any more.” He felt he’d reached his limit with the four-year-old. His gaze met Maggie’s, then looked away from the disapproval he saw in her blue eyes.

“What?” he asked, not specifying his question.

“We’ll try it for a week. But you’re on probation. I will not let my son live in constant terror!”

“I won’t be around that much. This is a working ranch.”

“I’ve only met Larry. You manage a ranch with one employee?”

“No, there are more hands, but right now my men are working on a neighbor’s round-up. They’ll be home tonight or tomorrow.”