Chapter Seventeen
Somehow, without his knowing exactly when, a new economy had taken root around the ranch. The children, no longer running and shrieking about the place every waking hour, could now be seen doing chores: lugging firewood, carrying water, even helping gather eggs in the morning.
The transformation baffled him. More than once he stood scratching his head while Gary and Danny got into a spat over who could sweep the porch, both with a death grip on the broom.
Aidan could only presume that they were being bribed somehow, likely through sweets.
There had been an increase in pies and tarts about the place, but that didn’t seem to be all of it.
The answer eluded him until one evening, when he happened to loiter downstairs after dinner instead of retreating to his room, as he usually did. What he saw floored him.
When the dishes had been cleared and tended to, Alexandra took her place on the sofa in the sitting room.
With a formal clearing of her throat, Alexandra produced a book and began to read aloud.
Aidan couldn’t see the cover of it, but from what he overheard, it seemed to be something to do with knights and great deeds.
Danny was peering at the page as Alexandra read, and Gary listened with his eyes shining.
Most surprising of all, Bella curled right up against Alexandra, who put an arm about her. The gesture was so natural and easy that Aidan doubted that either of them was aware that it had happened. Bella laid her head on Alexandra, who mindlessly stroked her hair as she read.
Even Lisa was at peace, sitting in a stuffed chair with her head leaned back, and her eyes closed as she listened. Her hands were folded in her lap, still after a day of hard work. Her boots pointed toward the fire, for though the days were warm, the cold desert air crept in once the sun set.
It was a scene of such domestic bliss that it could have been one of those cabinet cards that folks were always collecting. Aidan didn’t dare to move or even to breathe, lest he break whatever spell it was that Alexandra had cast on the children.
After a while he found he had stopped watching the children altogether. The lamp behind her caught the loose hair at her temple. He looked away, then back, and told himself he was checking whether Bella had fallen asleep.
Alexandra closed the book, and the peace was gone, the children all talking and making demands at once.
“I want to hear more from Alice in Wonderland,” Bella pouted. “We never get to read what I want.”
“That’s because you want to read a silly girl book,” Danny shot back.
“It’s not fair,” Bella protested, drawing the last syllable out. She sat up and folded her arms in a huff. “There are two of them, so they gang up together.” She shot a dark look at both of her brothers.
Alexandra, with one hand holding the book on her lap, raised her other hand in peace. “Now, now,” she said soothingly, “you all know the rules. The more chores you all do, the more time we have for reading. Whoever does the most chores gets to choose what we read.”
Danny looked smug, sitting up higher. Alexandra tilted her head down and gave him a look over the rim of her spectacles. “If, however, I deem the proceedings to be in any way unfair, then there will be an immediate cessation of our evening reading time.”
“What’s a cess-ate-shin?” Gary asked from the floor.
“Cessation,” Danny corrected him. “It means she’ll quit, dummy.”
“That goes double for language and rudeness,” Alexandra said, giving Danny a pressed-mouth glare.
Danny looked away, pretending not to be chastened. Aidan had never seen the boy react to any threat of punishment before.
“Bella,” Alexandra said gently to the pouting girl, “if you like, we can read some Alice tomorrow during tea time.”
“You mean it?” Bella asked, her arms immediately coming unfolded.
Alexandra smiled and nodded, and Bella bounced on the sofa. That made Alexandra laugh, and she was still smiling when she stood.
“It’s time for you all to get to bed. Wash up properly first.”
Danny and Bella both slid to the floor, reluctantly marching toward the stairs.
Gary, however, stood and fidgeted, then motioned for Alexandra to come down to his level. She bent so her ear was closer to him. He reached up a hand and, in an extremely audible whisper, said, “Will you come and tuck me in?”
Alexandra, wincing slightly at the volume of Gary’s whispering, nevertheless nodded. “I promise,” she whispered back.
Placated, Gary bounded up the stairs.
Alexandra sighed and shook her head.
“How did you do that?” Aidan demanded from his place in the doorway.
Alexandra, startled, turned. Her face still had the soft affection she’d been regarding the children with, and she caught him looking at it before he could arrange his own.
He clenched his jaw.
“Do what?” Alexandra replied.
“That,” Aidan said, gesturing vaguely toward the sofa, the stairs, the entire room. “I don’t know what you did. They were so quiet, and… you’ve been trading chores for reading to them?” he asked, incredulous.
Alexandra gave a neat little shrug. “It turned out that mostly they were bored. They’ve had very little variation in their lives, even when their father was alive. They’re all rather bright, you know.”
Aidan opened his mouth to protest, ready to defend his brother, his finger raised to point at Alexandra. Abruptly, he exhaled, deflated. He couldn’t rightfully contradict her; he hadn’t exactly been involved with his niece and nephews.
Alexandra chewed on her lip for a minute, then her face softened slightly. “They don’t need much,” she explained gently. “They just need attention and reassurance. Their lives have been very unsettled.”
Aidan shifted, unsure if he was being blamed. He glanced toward the stairs, then back to Alexandra. The way she looked at him was like she could see the family’s whole history laid out, as if it were one of her books.
He’d looked forward to her clever retorts.
That was the part that stopped him—not that she was clever, but that he’d been looking forward to it.
It had never occurred to him that he might get more than a helpmate to keep the house afloat and the children from running wild, something he’d taken for granted.
He ought to say something to her about it. He had no idea what a man said, though.
Aidan took a breath, his neck warm and his palms damp. “Well, what do you suggest?”
“Me?” Alexandra said, her eyebrows rising.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Aidan said, unable to stop himself from scowling. “You’ve never been short of things to say. I’m asking what I should do about the children.”
Inclining her head, Alexandra regarded Aidan for a moment down her pert nose. “They don’t need anything extensive,” she said. “Just your time, and an assurance of your love.”
“Yes,” Aidan said, stepping closer impatiently, “I know that. I’m asking how I do that.”
“Oh!” Alexandra answered, realization dawning.
The Rawlins family had never been one for outward displays of affection; Aidan hadn’t a clue where to begin.
“Just include them in your life, in the ranch,” Alexandra explained. “They’re afraid that they’ll be turned out, sent to an orphanage, or that you’ll grow tired of them and leave.”
“They said that to you?” Aidan demanded, aghast.
“Aidan,” Alexandra said, and then stopped, her cheeks pinking. She soldiered on. “They didn’t have to. They lost their mother when they were very young, and then their father not long after. Everyone they thought they could count on has left them.”
“They didn’t leave, they died,” Aidan argued.
Alexandra made a show of looking around, her hands spread wide. “Are they here?”
“No,” Aidan conceded gruffly.
“Then you see the problem,” Alexandra said pointedly.
She paused, picking up the book from the sofa and tracing the pages absently with one finger.
“I mean what I said about Danny having a head for figures. It would cost you very little to include him in the workings of the ranch, and it would mean everything to him.”
“He’s too young,” Aidan protested. “I’d have to nanny him all day instead of getting anything done.”
Alexandra didn’t answer, at least not with words. He had no idea what she thought he did all day, but he suspected it was very little. The trouble was, she wasn’t exactly wrong—most of the work of the ranch had ceased with the lack of money for expansion.
“You wanted to know, and now you do,” Alexandra said simply. Clutching the book to herself, she turned on her heel and marched upstairs.
Aidan, left in possession of the field but scant else, went to the fireplace and picked up the poker and idly stirred the logs.
“Why do you ask her questions if you have no intention of listening?” Lisa asked from her chair.
Aidan started. He’d assumed that she’d fallen asleep. Indeed, she still had her eyes closed, and her head tipped back. He almost thought that he’d imagined her speaking until she cracked one eye to regard him down her long, straight nose.
“I don’t have to agree with her,” Aidan mumbled. He put the poker down and stared at the collection of random keepsakes on the mantel. He touched the small china plate, turning it this way and that.
“No,” Lisa agreed, “you don’t. But I wonder, do you know that you can have a conversation with her without arguing?”
Aidan flipped open the cover of the Bible on the mantel, then hastily snapped it shut again. “What’s your point?”
Slowly, Lisa stood, pushing up from the chair with both hands. Her eyes were still tired. Aidan started to move toward her, but she waved him off.
“All I’m saying is that perhaps you should consider if it’s her that you’re really mad at,” Lisa said. She made her way to the stairs as well, climbing them with deliberate steps.
Left alone, Aidan turned back to the fire. He stared into it without really seeing it. Everyone else in the house seemed to be forming connections. He hadn’t realized that no one voluntarily spoke to him anymore.
It’s for the best, he told himself. He wanted the children to have someone to depend on, and it seemed they had. If things continued as they were, they wouldn’t need him at all, as had been his original plan. I might even move back into my cabin, he thought with a wistful sigh.
On days he went to bed with the whines and stomps of angry children filling his ears, that surely was an appealing notion. It would be the easiest thing in the world to retreat to his old life. Sure, he would still be married, but only in name.
It wasn’t like it was all that unusual out here to live that way, either; he knew plenty of miners who slept in tents near the mine most days of the week, only coming home on Sunday. There were even men who had wives states away, living back in civilization while they sent money home.
Her words wouldn’t stop riding circles around his mind, though. He didn’t want to cause the children any new hurt, not really, but he couldn’t help but feel tied down by them. Still, they were his brother’s only children—all that was left of him.
He continued to stare into the fire, hoping that, like some ancient oracle, it would present him with an answer.
It gave him nothing. He banked it and went up. At the top of the stairs he stopped outside the children’s door, open a hand’s width, and listened until he had counted three sets of breathing. Then he lay awake a while, working out how a boy that age might be taught to keep a ledger.