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Hank resisted the urge to crumple the telegram and toss it away. Instead he focused on figuring out how to deal with this new setback.
One thing at a time. The immediate concern was that there was no wagon on its way to transport them.
He glanced back Lionel’s way. “I need to fetch a wagon to get the kids and their belongings back to my place. There are a couple of trunks in the baggage compartment that belong to us. If you could just leave them on the platform when they’re unloaded, I’ll take care of them when I return.” The livery was only two blocks away but hiring a horse and wagon was an expense he could ill afford right now. Could he ask Lionel to keep an eye on the kids while he took care of business at home?
“Excuse me, Mr. Chandler?”
Startled, Hank turned to find the schoolteacher standing behind him. “Ma’am?”
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing what you said just now. These two children appear to be exhausted and the wind is picking up outside. I would be glad to keep them company while you see about the wagon.”
“You’re not here to catch the train?”
She shook her head with a smile, as if the thought was absurd. “No, I’m just waiting to see if any mail arrived for me.”
Hank sent up a silent prayer of thanks for this good news in an otherwise miserable day. He couldn’t have asked for a better caretaker for the kids. The schoolteacher would naturally be accustomed to dealing with uncooperative children. Of course, she probably hadn’t had to deal with anyone with Chloe’s particular problem before.
“I appreciate the offer, ma’am, and I’d certainly like to take you up on it.” He made sure he was turned so Chloe didn’t have a clear view of his face. “But there’s something you need to know before you take them on.”
“Oh?” Her green-flecked brown eyes studied him patiently.
“I’m sure you heard about their parents.” News of that sort normally spread fast in Turnabout.
Her expression softened. “I did. My condolences on the loss of your sister and brother-in-law.”
He nodded. “Well, the accident that killed the kids’ parents also damaged Chloe’s eardrums. She’s become totally deaf.”
Her reaction surprised him. There was a sudden flash of something in her expression that seemed more than sympathy or mere surprise.
Whatever it was, it seemed to be very personal.
* * *
Everything inside Janell stilled.
Deaf. Not again.
The terrible memories of that nightmarish time came tumbling back.
But this wasn’t about her. This little girl needed help—help she was uniquely qualified to give. How fortuitous that she’d wandered in this morning to check on the mail. But then, God’s timing was always perfect.
A moment later, Janell realized Mr. Chandler was studying her, concern digging furrows in his brow. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
She straightened and met his gaze, determination stiffening her spine. “As it happens, I actually have some experience dealing with the deaf.”
Surprise and relief flashed in his dark gray eyes before he resumed his businesslike expression. “Miss Whitman, if that’s true, then you are truly a godsend to us right now.”
He glanced at the children. “And I’ll take you up on your generous offer to watch them while I’m gone.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
He stared at the children for a moment, appearing to be at a loss for words. For just a moment she sensed a vulnerability in him that tugged at her.
Poor man. This was a difficult situation for anyone to be put in, much less a man who’d seemed happy with his bachelor status. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in ages—and she didn’t think it was just travel weariness. There was at least one day’s growth of beard on his chin, enhancing rather than detracting from its square ruggedness. And his dark brown hair was in need of a trim.
Not surprising—it just meant he cared. And she could empathize. When this had happened to her sister, her entire family had been impacted. How much worse must it be for someone who had to deal with the situation on his own? It did him credit that he’d stepped up to do what he could for the children. There was a lot to admire in a man who would do that.
Of more concern right now, however, were the children themselves. It was obvious they needed a mother’s touch. Like his uncle, the little boy’s straw-colored hair was also just a tad too long, and he kept tucking it back behind his ears as if it bothered him. And Chloe’s rebellious attitude, a natural reaction to what she’d been through, would only be healed through an abundance of patience and love.
Mr. Chandler straightened, rubbing his jaw. He tapped Chloe’s arm and waited until she met his gaze, then explained the situation to them. “Alex, Chloe, this is Miss Whitman. She’s one of the schoolteachers here in Turnabout. I’m going to go home to fetch a wagon, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Miss Whitman will be staying with you until then.”
She approved of the way he spoke slowly and enunciated each word. It showed he understood Chloe’s limitations and cared enough to try to get through to her. Not that the girl seemed able to read his lips just yet. But in time, she might be able to learn.
Janell gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry—we’ll be just fine.” Then she turned to the children. “Won’t we?”
Alex gave a tentative nod. Chloe merely ignored them.
But Janell refused to be put off by their lack of enthusiasm. She turned to Mr. Chandler, her smile still firmly in place. “There, we three are already friends. So you can go take care of this wagon business. I have nothing pressing to tend to today.” Then she looked around. “But perhaps we can find someplace more comfortable and interesting to wait.”
The sawmill owner gave her a questioning glance.
“I was thinking perhaps the children would be willing to take a short walk,” she explained. “Say, just as far as the Blue Bottle?”
His expression cleared as understanding dawned. “Now, that’s a very good idea.” He turned to the children. “Miss Whitman is offering to take you to the town’s sweet shop. What do you think—wait here or brave the wind for a couple of blocks to reach the Blue Bottle?”
Alex perked up. “You mean a candy store?”
Janell nodded. “And a very good one. You can find all sorts of tasty treats—chocolate drops, sugared pecans, pumpkin brittle, caramels and much more.”
“I like candy just fine.” Alex took his sister’s hand. “And Chloe does, too.”
Chloe looked up then, her eyes darting back and forth as if trying to make sense of their conversation.
Yes, this girl definitely needed her help. Janell straightened. “Well then, if you don’t mind taking a short walk—” she glanced toward Mr. Chandler “—and if your uncle doesn’t mind, why don’t we go see what the Blue Bottle sweet shop and tea parlor has to offer this morning?”
“I don’t mind at all,” Mr. Chandler assured her. Then he turned to the stationmaster. “Lionel, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave our bags here and get them when I come back for the trunks.”
While Mr. Chandler took care of business, Janell noticed Alex trying to help his sister understand what was going on, but Chloe merely looked confused and frustrated. The girl hefted the cat higher, resting her chin against his furry back.
Janell touched Chloe’s arm. When the girl met her gaze, she pointed to the cat. “What’s his name?” she asked.
Alex answered for her. “His name is Smudge.”
Janell thanked him. She knew he was trying to help his sister, but somehow she had to make the boy understand that he wasn’t truly helping her by always answering for her. Her own sister, Lizzie, had been that way as well, rarely speaking. And at first they’d compensated for her, answering for her so that she hadn’t had to figure out what had been said. But they’d eventually learned that was the wrong approach.
Chloe would need to learn to reengage with the people around her or she would turn into a sad, lonely hermit.
“Ready?”
Mr. Chandler’s question brought Janell back to the present. With a nod, she followed the children outside while Mr. Chandler politely held the door open.
As they stepped off the platform and onto the sidewalk, a gust of wind swooshed down on them. Janell quickly took off her shawl. “Here, you two, you can share this.” She draped it over both their shoulders, then smiled at the picture they made.
Mr. Chandler frowned. “Now you’ll be cold.” He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out. “Here, take this.”
She smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. It’s a short walk to the Blue Bottle.”
His brow drew down and she got the impression he was irritated. “Surely you don’t expect me to escort you through town wearing my jacket while you give your wrap to my niece and nephew. What kind of oaf do you think I am?”
She held her hand out to accept his jacket. As she shrugged into it, she realized it felt surprisingly nice. Some of his warmth lingered, and though it was larger and heavier than she was used to, those very masculine qualities somehow made her feel more feminine than she had in quite a while.
Pushing that fanciful—and dangerous—thought away, she turned her attention back to the children. “I’m so glad you’ve moved to Turnabout,” she said cheerily. “It will be nice having two new students in my class.”
There was no response except a half nod from Alex.
“They’re not very talkative.” Mr. Chandler’s tone held a hint of apology.
“I imagine they’re weary from so much travel. But I can do enough talking for all of us.”
“I’m sure you can.”
She ignored the hint of sarcasm in his tone—after all, it was a schoolteacher’s job to reach even the most recalcitrant or guarded of children and engage them in the learning process.
“It’s a good thing we ran into you,” Mr. Chandler said. “And I don’t mean just because you came to my rescue.”
“Oh?”
“I need to speak to you about getting the kids enrolled in school as soon as possible.”
Did he really think these two would be ready to return to school right away? “Of course. But there will be time enough for that after the children have settled in.”
He frowned, but she didn’t give him a chance to say anything. Instead she turned to the children. “So, is there a favorite treat you’re hoping to find at the sweet shop?”
Alex nodded decisively. “I like lemon drops and licorice whips.”
“I’m afraid you won’t find those at the Blue Bottle, but I believe the mercantile has an excellent selection. No, the kind of treats you’ll find at the sweet shop are more along the line of bonbons—chocolates, caramels, taffies and brittles. I’m certain we can find something you like.”
During the three-block walk, she kept up a running dialogue, describing the various buildings and points of interest in the town, aware that Chloe wasn’t benefiting from the commentary. But she also knew that Chloe would benefit, even if only in a small way, from any easing of tension in her brother.
And all the while she was very aware of Mr. Chandler strolling beside her and of the warmth of his jacket on her shoulders.
She’d forgotten how special this kind of consideration could make a woman feel.
Chapter Two (#ulink_d98cb4b1-cb15-5f24-814d-257296c489ce)
When they reached the Blue Bottle, Hank quickly stepped forward to open the door.
Miss Whitman hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she could do enough talking for all of them.
But he noticed Alex seemed more relaxed now, which meant Chloe’s tension should ease as well. He’d noticed she was taking many of her cues from her brother when she couldn’t tell what was going on around her.
His attention shifted back to the schoolteacher. His coat should have looked ridiculously large on her, but for some reason it didn’t.
In fact, she looked quite nice—in an impish kind of way.
Hank pulled himself up at that thought. The straitlaced schoolteacher, impish? What a strange notion—he must be more tired than he’d thought.
He stepped inside with them for a moment, just to make certain they would be okay here while he was gone.
Miss Whitman started to shrug out of his jacket and he moved forward to help her. When she smiled up at him, he found himself wondering why he’d never really noticed her before. Not that he’d been looking for a wife before current circumstances had made it a necessity.
Then she turned to Chloe with an apologetic purse of her lips, giving him the nudge he needed to step back.
“I just realized it’s probably not a good idea to bring a cat into a sweet shop.” She glanced back his way. “Perhaps you should take Smudge with you.”
He swallowed a retort. She was undoubtedly right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Chloe won’t let him out of her sight.”
“I’m sure Smudge provides her with a measure of comfort. But she must learn that she’ll be okay without him for short periods of time.”
The schoolteacher planted herself squarely in front of his niece and stood silently until Chloe met her gaze.
Miss Whitman touched Smudge lightly on the head, then held out her arms, her meaning obvious.
Chloe replied by hugging Smudge tighter against her chest and lifting her chin defiantly.
But Miss Whitman didn’t drop her hands or her gaze, and Chloe finally handed over her pet. The girl’s shoulders slumped, and she looked as if she’d just lost her best friend, but Miss Whitman patted her arm and gave her an approving smile.
Chloe turned away.
He thought he heard Miss Whitman sigh as she turned and held the cat out to him. “Here you go. Make sure he doesn’t get away from you since he’s not familiar with the town yet.”
Great—now he was responsible for the well-being of not just the children, but this creature as well.
His hesitation was duly noted. Her eyes turned hard without her smile ever leaving her face as she continued to wait for him to take the animal from her.
Hank reluctantly held out his hands and accepted the gray feline, who looked snootily down his nose at him and sneezed. Great—even the kids’ pet didn’t like him.
After telling Miss Whitman to let Eve know he’d settle the bill when he returned, he headed out the door.
Feeling ridiculous carrying a cat through town, Hank set a brisk pace. But his thoughts remained on the kids.
He had to get through the next few days without his aunt’s help, and that meant he probably wouldn’t be able to spend much time at the sawmill. He trusted Simon Tucker to do a good job in his absence, but the business was his, not Simon’s. And he’d already been away too long.
If only he’d been more successful convincing Willa Booth to return with him. Willa, a good friend of his sister, had cared for the children during the time it had taken him to get from Turnabout to Elgin Springs.
As soon as he’d realized his best recourse was to find a woman to marry, someone to serve as a mother to the children, he’d thought of Miss Booth. The children already knew and liked her. She was not only single, but also seemed to have a fondness for children. The fact that she was a few years older than him hadn’t particularly bothered him—in fact, it had the advantage of assuring him she was going into this with her eyes wide-open and not holding out any romantic aspirations.
He’d discussed the situation with her in a businesslike manner, explaining that he could offer a comfortable home that she could run as she pleased and a life where she would be respected and her needs cared for. And at first she’d agreed to his proposal. Having a wife to accompany them back to Turnabout would have made everything so much easier.
