Eileen headed downstairs earlier than normal the next morning. Truth to tell, she’d had trouble getting much sleep at all last night. So much had happened in just one day. To think, this time yesterday she hadn’t even heard of Mr. Tucker and his charges.
And to be perfectly honest, it was Mr. Tucker himself who’d been responsible for her restlessness. In just one short day he’d managed to put her on edge, make her question her way of looking at things and generally upset her well-ordered life.
The fact that she had taken a little extra care with her appearance this morning and that she found herself eager to see him were proof that he was not good for her equanimity.
And, to be honest, she wasn’t exactly sorry the children had descended on her house, either. Despite some of the problems having so many unexpected houseguests had introduced into her life, it actually felt good to have a purpose other than just surviving day to day, and to have people around her who looked to her for help.
And perhaps, once this little interlude was over and her guests had departed, her neighbors would look on her with a friendlier eye again.
But for right now, there was much to be done. She had convinced Mr. Tucker yesterday that they should set a routine for the children, so now she must follow through with her plans.
Her foot had barely touched the bottom stair when she heard a light knock at the front door.
Wondering who would be calling at such an early hour and why they hadn’t rung the bell, Eileen headed for the door. She opened it to see Hortense Peters’s oldest son halfway down the front walk.
He turned back. “Hello, Mrs. Pierce. Hope I didn’t disturb you or the other folks inside. Ma told me to just leave the baskets on the front porch if no one was up and about.”
Eileen looked down and sure enough two large cloth-covered baskets sat there.
“Thank you—Dwight, is it? And thank your mother for me, as well.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And with a nod of his head, the lanky youth turned and continued on his way.
Eileen took hold of both baskets and headed for the kitchen. She pushed the door open with her hip, then paused on the threshold. Mr. Tucker was already there, getting the stove stoked and ready
He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a broad smile. “Good morning. Looks like I’m getting your stove heated just in time.”
She moved to the table to set the baskets down, determined not to let him see how much he rattled her. “I see you’re an early riser.” She lifted the cloth on the first one to find it contained eggs, very carefully packed. A quick count revealed there were seventeen of them—quite a generous gift.
“One of the best parts of the day is watching the sun come up.” Mr. Tucker stood and brushed his hands against each other. “I’ve actually been up for a while—I went over to check on Miss Fredrick first thing.”
She met his gaze, trying to discern how it had gone. “How is she?”
“No change.” He nodded toward the basket. “What do you have there?”
Eileen accepted his change of subject. “The ingredients for our breakfast.” She checked inside the second basket and found it contained a length of summer sausage and two small loaves of fresh-baked bread. There was even a jar of what looked like pear preserves. She met his gaze again. “There is enough here to make a hearty breakfast for everyone.”
Dovie bustled into the room just then. “Good morning, you two. I guess I’m the slugabed today.”
“I believe it’s more that we are up extra early.” Eileen waved toward the baskets. “I figured with so many to cook for, it might be wise to get an early start.”
“It ’pears like Mr. Tucker has spoiled us and gotten the stove going.” Dovie peered into the baskets. “Oh, my, yes. We can whip up a fine breakfast with these ingredients.”
Dovie crossed the room to pluck an apron from a peg by the door. “Why don’t you two see about getting the children up while I start cooking these eggs.”
Get the children up? Eileen wasn’t sure she liked the sounds of that. What all was involved?
But Mr. Tucker was already nodding agreement and holding open the kitchen door for her so she swallowed her protest. She was very careful, though, not to brush against him as she stepped past him to make her exit.
“If you get Fern up first,” he said as they moved to the stairs, “she’ll help you with the others. I’ll take care of the boys.”
He seemed all business this morning. Which was perversely disappointing. “Very well.” Eileen gave him a stern look. “But please make it clear that they should straighten their beds and put their nightclothes away neatly before they come down.”
He frowned at that, but then nodded and executed a short bow. There might have been a touch of sarcasm in the gesture, but she chose to ignore it.
When Eileen knocked on Fern’s door, she discovered the girl was already awake. Had she had trouble sleeping, as well? Eileen felt her first touch of kinship with the prickly girl.
“Miss Jacobs is cooking breakfast,” she said. “Time for everyone to get up and get dressed. Do you need help with anything?”
“No.” Fern’s tone was stiff. “And I’ll help Molly.”
Fern’s tone indicated she thought Eileen would argue the point with her.
But she was mistaken. “Very well.” Eileen moved back to the door. “I’ll check in on the others. You two can join us downstairs when you are ready. And don’t forget to straighten your room.”
Eileen got the other four girls moving, helping them start on their morning ablutions before she headed back down the stairs to help Dovie in the kitchen.
Breakfast went much smoother than last night’s supper had. Molly and Joey were given the shallow bowls to eat from rather than plates, which meant not only were there enough plates for the rest of them there was even one to spare if it should be needed. And rather than Eileen serving the plates, Dovie filled each plate with eggs and sausage from the stove and transported them to the dining room already filled. There was only the bread and jelly to be passed around at the table itself.
Mr. Tucker offered the blessing, including a prayer for Miss Fredrick’s recovery.
After the amens were said, Fern spoke up. “May we visit Gee-Gee today?”
Eileen paused in her eating, curious to hear how Mr. Tucker would handle the question.
He hesitated, then set his fork down. “I’m afraid there’s not much visiting to be done. I checked in on her this morning. She hasn’t awakened yet. I think it might be better to wait another day or so before you try to see her.”
“But she will get better, won’t she?” Fern pressed.
“That’s for the Good Lord to decide.” Mr. Tucker glanced around the table. “The best thing we can do for her is to continue to pray.”
The kids sobered and began eating their breakfast in silence.
Despite the somber mood his words had evoked, Eileen admired Mr. Tucker’s ability to speak honestly but with great empathy to the children.
Miss Fredrick had chosen well when she asked him to accompany her.
* * *
After breakfast, as they pushed away from the table, Simon decided to speak up before Mrs. Pierce could bring up the subject of routines. “Girls, please take care of the table and the dishes this morning. Boys, you’re going to come outside with me and help with some chores I have lined up.”
“What kind of chores?” Harry asked.
“There are leaves to be raked, firewood to be gathered and some repairs to be made.” He turned back to the girls. “Once the table is cleared and the dishes are done, I’m sure you’ll want to help with whatever household chores Mrs. Pierce or Miss Jacobs assign you. Isn’t that right?”
Heads nodded and a few “yes sirs” echoed across the room. He glanced Mrs. Pierce’s way, but couldn’t gauge her reaction. She certainly wasn’t shy about speaking up, so he was sure she would tell him if she disagreed with his approach.
He turned back to the boys. “Come along, men. Let’s get to it.”
When they stepped out onto the back porch, Simon rubbed his chin a moment, trying to decide where to start. Then he pointed to the carriage house. “I think the first order of business is to take a look inside there and see what kind of materials and tools we have to work with.”
“Sorta like a treasure hunt,” Harry said.
Simon grinned as he led the way. “Exactly. Only we’re looking for useful tools and supplies rather than jewels and coins.” When they reached the structure, he had the boys help him open all the doors and shutters to let in as much light as possible.
There were two windows on both the east and west side, as well as a smaller door straight ahead on the back wall. That should have been enough to provide light to the entire interior. But vines had grown up over some of the windows and the rear door would only open partway. Which meant the light from outside was only able to penetrate about two-thirds of the way in—the rest of the interior was just shadows and musty odors.
Near the entrance was a collection of gardening tools that looked well used and well cared for. It included a wheelbarrow, which he figured would definitely come in handy.
As he examined the tools, he tried to picture the reserved widow using the hoe and other implements to work the soil in her garden, but his imagination failed him. What was her story anyway?
Her bearing and manner spoke of a privileged upbringing. And this home she lived in spoke of wealth. But she had no servants, and the house showed signs of having been stripped of many of its furnishings. And he had sensed some kind of tension between her and the other townsfolk yesterday at the meeting.
Had she fallen on hard times recently? But why would that have put her at odds with the community?
“What exactly are we looking for?” Russell asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present.
“An ax, ladder, nails, paint.” Simon shrugged. “Anything that might come in handy for chopping firewood or fixing up the place.”
“There’s an ax,” Russell said as he crossed to the left wall. “And a ladder, too.”
“Careful.” Simon quickly followed the boy. “Better let me get the ax down.”
Russell frowned. “I know how to handle an ax.”
Conscious of the boy’s feelings, Simon nodded. “I’m sure you do, but I need you to help the other boys get that ladder down and drag it outside. Stretch it to its full length on the ground and then check the rungs for soundness.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to make a thorough check.”
Appearing slightly mollified, Russell took charge of the ladder and his small team, and they had the ladder outside in short order.
Simon took the ax down and examined it closely. It needed sharpening, but that was something easily handled. Otherwise it was in good shape. And he spotted a heavy mallet and wedge, as well. Both would come in handy when splitting firewood.
He joined the boys outside and was pleased to see the ladder was in good shape, too. One of the lower rungs had a small crack in it, but he could fix that. And, once extended, it would easily reach the gutters.
He’d have Mrs. Pierce’s house and yard fixed up in no time. It was the least he could do for her.
And hopefully it would gain him one of her rare smiles in the process. Something he found himself looking forward to more and more.
* * *
Midmorning Eileen stepped out on the back porch and saw Russell and Harry hard at work corralling the sodden mass of leaves and twigs that had overtaken her lawn into large piles.
There was no sign of Mr. Tucker or the other boys.
The two boys paused when they saw her, and she stepped up to the porch rail. “Miss Jacobs has made some lemonade. She thought you gentlemen might want to take a break.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The leaves were immediately abandoned as both boys headed for the porch.
“Where are the others?”
Before they could answer her, Mr. Tucker and the two younger boys appeared around the corner of the house. “Somebody looking for us?” he called out cheerfully.
“Just wondering where you’d disappeared to.” Eileen noted the wheelbarrow loaded with firewood he was pushing. It seemed he’d had a very productive morning.
“I was just letting Russell and Harry know about the pitcher of lemonade inside. There’s enough for you three as well, if you’re interested.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The younger boys started for the porch, but Eileen raised her hand, stopping all four boys.
“Before you come inside you might want to wash up. There is a water pump by the carriage house.”
The boys didn’t seem overly pleased with her suggestion, but they obediently turned and headed for the pump.
Instead of joining them, Mr. Tucker started unloading the wheelbarrow.
She remained where she was rather than head back inside. To make sure the boys washed up properly, she told herself.
So why did her focus seem to remain on the man working at the foot of the steps?
“By the way,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hands, “I took your advice.”
She was surprised by the unexpected comment, but at the same time felt a little touch of pleasure. “And what advice was that?”
“To plan for the worst-case outcome.” He stacked another large branch on the pile.
So she had gotten through to him. “What did you decide?”
“When I went by Dr. Pratt’s office to check on Miss Fredrick this morning, I spoke to his niece, Mrs. Leggett, about possibly traveling to Hatcherville with us if we should need her services. She has some medical experience, so she could provide care for Miss Fredrick until she can resume her normal routines. And Mrs. Leggett is a mother herself, so she knows how to deal with children.”
A surprisingly practical choice. “She sounds like an ideal candidate. I take it she said yes.”
He nodded. “She did. I just hope her services won’t be required.”
“As do I.”
He unloaded the last bit of wood and straightened. “I’ll just put this wheelbarrow away, then I think I’m ready for that promised glass of lemonade.” He flashed a grin. “But don’t worry—I intend to wash up proper first.”
He whistled as he headed for the carriage house, leaving Eileen staring after him. Being teased was an entirely new experience for her, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it was a very undignified way to treat her, one she should object to. But on the other hand, when he spoke to her like that, when he gave her that look that seemed to imply a certain level of friendship, it made her feel warm and soft inside.
She had to keep reminding herself, though, that feelings were fleeting and could betray you. In the end it was respectability and prominence that mattered.
As the boys climbed up the porch steps she cautioned them to wipe their feet, then followed them inside.
And forced herself not to turn around to see what Mr. Tucker was doing.