Chapter 11 #2
Caroline shook her head and returned to the house alone, making use of the outhouse along the way.
She climbed the steps to the porch, planning to open the shutters and let in some light, but it had already been done.
The yeasty scent of freshly baked bread wafted past. She opened the door, readying herself to greet whoever was preparing lunch.
Instead, she crossed the threshold and paused, her heart breaking for a small boy who sat hunched on the floor all alone, amidst scattered toys that lay untouched.
“Are you Noah?” she asked.
The boy looked up with curiosity so dampened by sadness it was almost indecipherable. “Yes. Who are you?”
“I’m Caroline Bennet, your aunt. Your mother’s sister.”
He looked her over, then screwed his face into a frown and ducked his head.
Caroline crossed the room and crouched down beside him, her black skirt pooling around her. “Your mother loved you very much. You know that, don't you?”
He nodded, sniffling and staring at his crossed legs. “You look like her,” he said after a long moment, lifting his gaze to meet hers through the veil of his lashes, “‘cept your hair is darker, and you’re older.”
Only by a year and a half. But he wasn’t the first person to think it was more. Everyone assumed there was a wider gap.
“You look like your father,” she said with a light voice, even though the observation was a white-hot knife to her heart. Noah favored Jackson, save for a graceful narrowing about his nose and chin, and the color of his eyes. Jackson’s were cornflower blue, while Noah’s were a light, clear green.
The anger Caroline had felt when Jackson threw her over returned tenfold. He’d played her for a fool—played the honorable admirer, while secretly desiring her sister.
Soft whimpers floated from a stuffed chair a few feet away, a woman’s chair. Even in a state of quiet rage, Caroline’s heart was softened by the sound.
She rose and went toward the noise, then peered down at a little blonde girl who was curled up on her side, hugging a tattered doll. “You must be Jewel.”
Jewel quieted and looked up with big blue eyes that made Caroline suck in a breath. She was Jackson made over.
“May I sit with you?”
Jewel sniffled and nodded.
Scooping the child up gently, Caroline slid beneath her and cradled her on her lap, feeling honored when the tot pillowed her head on her chest.
Jewel made a sound, like a whimper, only more delicate. She paused then rolled over and pressed her face against the floral upholstery. When she made the sound again, Caroline recognized it as a sniff and blinked back tears.
The chair held a faint odor of jasmine, Amanda’s favorite scent. Jewel was clinging to the last tangible remembrance she had of her mother.
Jackson had slipped in and was observing from the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, a bulwark against the embarrassment of having been seen during one of his episodes and against the ache that threatened to spill over.
Caroline’s presence soothed his heart and, at the same time, singed the raw edges of his grief.
It was both a salve and a cruel reminder of what might have been.
“Come here, Noah,” he called without announcing his presence, causing her to flinch.
The boy's head jerked up, and his eyes flashed with defiance. He stood and shuffled over, his spine rigid and his hands jammed into his pockets.
“I have to go pump water. Set the table with tin plates and have it finished by the time I return.”
“Why can’t she do it?” he said, cutting his eyes toward Caroline.
“Because she’s a guest, and because I asked you.”
If Noah were a bull, he’d have been snortin’ and pawin’, ready to charge. The only thing keeping Jackson from taking the boy over his knee was the fact they were both out of sorts from grief.
Jackson stood his ground, both figuratively and literally, until Noah relented and trudged in the direction of the cupboard. Then he took two empty buckets from the kitchen. As he left, he glanced at Caroline.
She was glaring at him with the hardest look he’d ever seen.
Jackson sighed and went out the door. She must not approve of the way he’d spoken to Noah. If so, she would just have to get past it. He knew enough about males to know he’d best demand obedience now, or he’d have a far bigger mess of trouble later.
Caroline sat quietly while Noah set the table. It went against her instinct not to comfort him and help, but she didn’t want to dislodge Jewel or defy Jackson’s instructions. She did, however, wish to know why the boy was so angry with his father.
She started to compliment Noah on his table-setting skills then decided it might be better to choose something neutral. “What’s for lunch?”
He kept thumping napkins onto the table without responding.
“Hm… You set out plates, not bowls, so it can’t be soup.”
Noah picked up the pile of cutlery then paused and looked up, his frown softening some. “Sandwiches.”
“What kind?” she asked, pressing her luck.
He began doling out the cutlery with a gentler hand than he’d placed the napkins. “Roast beef.”
“Did you cook the roast?”
He shook his head. “Miss Celia did. She baked the bread, too.”
“Is Miss Celia a neighbor?” Whoever she was, she must be very close for the children to call her by her given name.
“She’s Papa’s friend who lives in town.”
“The one you and Jewel stayed with overnight?”
Noah nodded.
‘Papa’s friend.’ His innocent choice of words brought her anger back to full simmer. If the topic of Amanda weren’t such a sensitive one, she’d have explored whether Celia had been Mama’s friend, too.
God help Jackson Maguire if she learned he’d been unfaithful to her sister.
Heavy bootsteps clomped up the steps, and Jackson came bustling through the door, carrying two full buckets, water sloshing from their rims as he went. He set them on the dry sink then walked over and surveyed the table. “Good job, son,” he said as Noah placed the last of the cutlery.
Noah ignored him.
Jackson’s chest rose and fell with a measured breath before returning to the kitchen.
He brought a board with two loaves and set it on the table then paused and looked at her. “Could I impose upon you to put Jewel in her chair and slice the bread, while I slice the roast?”
“Of course.”
By the time Jewel was settled, and the loaves were cut, Jackson had carried over a generous platter of beef and set it before them. Well, all but Noah. He was back to sulking on the floor next to his toys.
Jackson opened his mouth, but Caroline held up a hand. “Noah,” she asked, “would it be all right if I sat in your mother’s chair?”
He raised his head and looked at her with a surprised-but-appreciative expression. “Yes.”
“Would you be a gentleman and pull it out for me?”
He nodded and got to his feet.
Caroline let him help her and smoothed her skirts as she sat. “Thank you. Now, can you tell me how to prepare Jewel’s food? Does she like roast?”
Jackson had taken his seat without comment and was watching unobtrusively as he poured cups of milk for everyone.
Noah sat in the chair opposite Jewel, on Caroline’s left. “She likes roast beef sandwiches, but you must cut hers into four pieces.”
“I bet you’re grown enough to make your own sandwich,” Caroline remarked with a smile as she buttered the bread for hers and Jewel’s.
“I am, but I’ll get in trouble if I do it before we pray.”
Caroline laid the butter knife down and stuffed her hands in her lap. “Oh, my. I forgot.”
“It’s all right,” Noah said. “You’re a guest.”
Jackson bowed his head and said a simple prayer of thanks for the meal. Beyond that, he didn’t speak, just drank his milk and nibbled on his sandwich.
The children did the same.
Caroline ate quietly, thinking how she might engage them in conversation. She was on the verge of choosing the better of two topics when Jackson scooted his chair back and rose.
“Excuse me,” he said, as he wrapped what was left of his sandwich in his napkin and tucked it in his pocket. “I have work to do.” He’d barely looked at her, or his children, for that matter.
Caroline watched his back as he left then resumed eating her lunch.
“He always has work to do,” Noah grumbled.
She let the comment go unremarked. Running a farm wasn’t easy, but Noah didn’t need a lecture on something Jackson was likely using as an escape.
“Would either of you like another sandwich,” Caroline asked when they’d all cleaned their plates.
“No, thank you,” Noah said.
“Bid’ness. Bid’ness,” Jewel exclaimed.
Caroline looked to Noah.
“That means she needs to do her business.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “There’s a pot in the washroom. I can take her.” He waited for Caroline to lift Jewel out of her chair then led her to a small room at the edge of the kitchen.
While he was gone, Caroline cleared the table. He and Jewel returned as she was washing the dishes.
“Need some help?” Noah asked.
Caroline paused and looked over her shoulder. “Do you know how to dry?”
“Yes.” He dragged a chair from the table and placed it next to her then climbed up and stood on it.
Caroline handed Noah a towel and a rinsed, dripping plate then watched him out the corner of her eye.
He dried it well enough and set it on the sink.
“Once the chores are done,” she said as they worked, “we can do something of our choosing. What do you and Jewel like to do in your spare time?”
He stared at the plate in his hand with a serious look. “We like to play with the kittens.”
“You have kittens?”
“We do—five of them.”
Jewel ran over and tugged on Caroline’s skirt. “Kit-tens!”
“Well,” Caroline said, smiling down at the grinning tot, “kittens it is.”
Once they’d finished tidying up the kitchen, Noah led her out back and rounded up the tiny cats. They appeared to be just past weaning age, two blacks, two calicos, and one orange.
“Which one would you like?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I like them all.”