Keli Gwyn - Her Motherhood Wish

Jasper hopped off the seesaw and rushed to his sister’s side. “Don’t worry, Ruby. I’m here with you.”

Mollified, the little girl allowed Tess to take her by the hand. The caring woman offered Jasper her other one and headed for the playground, leaving Chip alone with Callie.

She stood beside him and watched with furrowed brow as the children got farther away. Ruby trudged alongside Tess, her tiny shoulders hunched as she hugged her doll tightly, but Jasper had a spring in his step. The energetic boy seemed to have Callie’s positive outlook on life and wasn’t ready to deal with his grief. Ruby, on the other hand, was understandably scared. Her fear brought out a protective instinct in Chip unlike anything he’d experienced before.

“The poor dears.” Callie shook her head. “I know they’ll be all right, but they’ll have a difficult time ahead of them.” She turned to him. “Were you able to give their father a proper burial and find out why those horrid people did that to him?”

He inclined his head toward two giggling girls skipping by with linked arms. “Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?” He headed for Jack and Jill House, the largest of the three dormitories, beyond the two smaller ones. The impressive three-story clapboard building, recently completed, sat empty, awaiting furniture he’d been hired to build. He had a busy month ahead of him, but that was how he liked it.

Callie fell in step beside him. “Do you mind slowing down a bit? I can’t keep up when you take off with that determined stride of yours.” Although her tone was pleasant, he sensed an underlying edge.

“I cover ground when I’ve got work to do. I’ll have to remember to take it easy when you’re with me. I can’t be leaving my assistant in the dust, can I?” He flashed her a grin.

She ground to a halt and stared at him in disbelief. “So, I am working with you?”

He stopped. “Yes. Tess told you that, didn’t she?”

“She did, but you said the plans had changed. I thought...” She shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

He’d built homes and furniture to suit the wives of many men through the years and had made an important discovery. If a woman said something didn’t matter, that was rarely the case. “It obviously does, but I’m not sure what it is. Care to enlighten me?”

She took a sudden interest in her boots, clicking the heels of the tiny things together. “I thought you’d asked Tess to find you another assistant.”

“Why would I? You know as much about lumber as most carpenters and have an impressive grasp of design. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He’d obviously said the right thing because Callie look up, beaming. “Thank you, Chip. I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.”

Three resounding rings of a cast-iron bell sent a swarm of children their way. He’d learned during the many hours he’d spent at the Double T that Tess used the bell to convey messages to the children. Earning the right to swing the striker inside the large triangle was a privilege the orphans eagerly awaited. Three rings meant the end of playtime.

The boys scurried past them on their way to the barn, where their chores awaited them. The girls flocked to the kitchen on the bottom floor of Miss Muffet House, where they would help prepare supper.

“Let’s get out of here before these young’uns run us over.” Chip chuckled and put a hand on the small of Callie’s back, steering her clear of the hubbub. Reluctant to release her, he kept his hand there as they walked. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away. Interesting.

They reached Jack and Jill House, but he decided to take her to the woodshop on the far side of it instead. He opened the door for her. She stepped inside and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of freshly cut lumber. Don’t you?”

He fought a grin but lost the battle. “I like watching you enjoy it.”

She gave his arm a playful swat. “Don’t go making fun of me.”

“I’m not. I like the way you embrace life.” He wouldn’t mind if she embraced him, too.

But The Plan didn’t call for him to court a woman yet. From what he’d seen, the lovely Miss Caroline Hunt had potential, but if he gave in to his attraction so far ahead of schedule, he wouldn’t accomplish his goals.

Callie’s face fell. “Most days I have no trouble keeping a sunny outlook, but sometimes shadows cross our paths when we least expect them. I can’t help thinking that the children’s father drew his last breath this morning. Were you able to take care of everything?”

“Spencer’s ranch hands helped me bury Mr. Tate at the cemetery in town.” An image of the man’s lifeless body rushed in, causing Chip’s stomach to pitch, as it had earlier. He’d watched far too many cholera victims buried in the middle of the trail on the wagon train’s trek to California—including the five from his family. He strode to the open window at the front of the woodshop, placed his palms on the ledge and drew in several deep breaths of fresh air.

With a swish of her skirts, Callie was at his side, standing just to his left. She rested a hand on his upper arm and stood there, offering silent support.

Gradually, his nausea passed, and he became aware of the warmth radiating from her. He turned, putting her mere inches from him. She took his hands in hers and lifted compassion-filled eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He was tempted to jerk his hands free, but the pull was too strong. It had been years since someone had reached out to him and offered comfort. Like a weary traveler crossing the barren desert of Nevada, he drank in this unexpected outpouring of kindness. “I’m fine.”

“You will be, I know, but in talking with Isaac, I learned that witnessing the aftereffects of such an atrocity can be difficult. But you did it, and I thank you for that. When the children are ready, they’ll be able to visit their father’s grave site and say their goodbyes.”

“I just did what anyone else would have done, but I appreciate your kind words.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

She lowered her gaze to their clasped hands, pulled hers free and backed away. “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t realize what I was doing.”

“I didn’t mind.” His admission surprised him as much as it did her.

She gave a nervous laugh, composed herself and continued as though nothing had happened, much to his relief. He didn’t want to explore the reasons behind his confession.

“We couldn’t talk earlier, but I’ve been battling curiosity ever since you told me about the letter you found. What else did you learn from it?”

“The children’s father was George Tate. He was coming here from Marysville, where he worked in a jewelry shop. He was going to open his own, as Jasper said. It sickens me to think that he was brutally murdered less than five miles from his destination.” He unfurled the fists he’d formed.

“It’s tragic, but I take comfort in knowing that he spent his last days on earth looking forward to the fulfillment of a dream.”

He scoffed. “How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Dismiss Mr. Tate’s anguish. His final minutes must have been horrific.”

Her features hardened, but her voice was calm, controlled. “I realize that, but focusing on the dark side of life does nothing but drag a person down into a pit of despondency and despair. I much prefer to look for the good in a situation.”

“Sometimes there is nothing good.” Sometimes people were so consumed by their own grief that they would leave a nine-year-old boy to battle a deadly disease on his own. But he’d shown them he was made of tougher stuff than they’d thought. He’d survived, and he would ensure that his family’s legacy would live on in the children he would have one day.