Love Blooms in Winter Page 6

  “No. I don’t know if you’re my aunt or cousin or anything. I’m sorry, but I can’t make the connection.” He sneezed a second time, and Mae handed him a dainty handkerchief. It held the scent of sweet jasmine, and he found it quite pleasing.

  Pauline frowned. “You said you were kin.”

  He glanced at Mae. “She says I am.” Another sneeze.

  “He is your kin, Pauline. And he’s here to help.” Mae focused on him. “Are you coming down with a cold?”

  “No, ma’am. I think it’s the animals.” He swiped at his itchy nose and glanced at Mae. How could the woman be so all-fired sure he was related to Pauline Wilson when he didn’t know that himself?

  Pale eyes brightened. “He’s come to stay!”

  His hand flew up in protest. “No, not permanently. I’m just here long enough to figure out our kinship and maybe get you settled somewhere.” Even though she might not be kin, he could perhaps follow through with helping the poor old thing. After all, without a wife and family, he could afford it.

  “I am settled.”

  Mae shot him a “move slowly” glance. The news that family had shown up had obviously unnerved Pauline. Wondering about it unnerved him too.

  “I think we’re tiring her.” She helped the older woman to the couch, pitching a bundle of clothing aside in order to sit beside her. She reached for a blanket and folded it three times to fashion a middle cushion. “Why don’t we all just sit here and visit? Maybe something will ring a bell for one or the other.”

  Tom joined them, and the three sat in silence, like blackbirds lined up on a board fence. Suddenly Pauline leaned out and peered around Mae to look at him.

  “What did you say your name is?”

  “Tom. Tom Curtis.” He felt another sneeze coming on and put the sweet-smelling handkerchief to his nose.

  She shook her head, pondering. “Ain’t got no Curtis kin.”

  “What about Holland? That was my mother’s maiden name.”

  Pauline shook her head. “Nope. Don’t know anyone named Holland.”

  “Pauline,” Mae cautioned. “Try to focus.” She patted the older woman’s hand. “I know it’s difficult, but think. Does Tom show any physical evidence of family traits? Eye color? Hair?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, they all had hair and eyes.”

  Mae ignored that. “His mother’s name was Holland.” She glanced at Tom. “I believe that’s what you said.”

  Tom knew Mae would give him another scolding look if he didn’t stifle the laugh that tried to make its way out at the old woman’s statement. He nodded. “Beatrice Holland.”

  “Beatrice!”

  He met her faded gaze. “Do you know her?” Part of him wanted a firm no, but another part, one he identified as plain ol’ curiosity, was eager to hear her response. The woman’s almost skeletal frame settled back against the couch.

  “No. Just always favored the name Beatrice.”

  “Maybe you like it because the name brings back fond memories of someone you once knew,” Mae reasoned.

  “Miss Pauline—”

  She stopped him. “Call me Auntie.”

  For the time being he’d comply with her request. “Auntie.” If the clothes didn’t make him feel like a buffoon, saying the name sealed it. He felt about as foolish as judging a horse by its harness. “Do you have any idea why you had my name and address in your desk drawer?” The cat that sat before the fire suddenly got up and leaped into his lap, and then he promptly climbed Tom’s shirt and curled around his neck.

  Pauline drew back, seemingly affronted. “I don’t have your name in my desk drawer.”

  Slipping to the edge of the couch, Mae explained, “Remember a while back when we straightened your desk? I took the liberty of writing down a name and address I found there. I wasn’t being nosey. I was simply trying to locate your kin.”

  Pauline’s eyes were now fixed on Tom, studying him from head to toe. The woodstove pumped heat into the already sweltering room, and sweat beaded his forehead. Maybe she was in her right mind momentarily and was trying to make the connection. Long moments stretched before she spoke.

  “Sonny?”

  “Yes…Auntie?”

  “Who does your sewing?”

  He glanced down at his clothing and hoped for the strength to get through this humiliation. “I…tore my shirt pocket, and Miss Mae kindly mended it for me.”

  Pauline’s sharp gaze switched to Mae. “This is your idea of sewing?”

  “Oh, no. That’s Papa’s shirt. And pants.”

  A frowned deepened Pauline’s already creased forehead. Shaking her head, she tsked. “Honey, your papa’s been gone a spell. I recall the day we laid him to rest. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. There was a dark thundercloud in the west, and the pastor had to cut the preaching short before the storm moved in. I was wearing a new pair of shoes—black—and a fine hat that was frilly but had a black ribbon tied around the rim. I was torn between getting my shoes muddy and my new hat wet and paying proper respect to your papa.”

  Tom glanced at Mae. The woman could recall all of that but couldn’t remember her kin? And even if she wasn’t his kin, he was beginning to feel an obligation.

  Another sneeze made its way to the surface, then another and another. As he lifted his borrowed handkerchief to his nose he noticed again the scent of jasmine that lingered on delicate cloth and wondered why the pretty Miss Wilkey had never married.

  Eight

  The sun was slanting to the west when Mae and Tom let themselves out.

  Mae walked in silence with Mr. Curtis, uncertainty bothering her. Had she made the proper connection between dear Pauline and this man? She’d caught both Tom and Pauline staring at each other for long periods during the afternoon, and she could practically see the wheels turning in Mr. Curtis’ head. He struggled with the idea of lost kin as hardily as Pauline gleefully accepted her newfound family.

  While they sat there, two hours passed before the older woman finally settled in her chair and dropped off to sleep mid-conversation. They quietly got up to leave and softly closed the door behind them. Mae glanced up at Tom Curtis. As he settled the quilt about him again, she noticed how the borrowed shirt pulled tight, amplifying his broad shoulders. She broke the awkward silence as they stepped off the porch and into the street. “Um…where do you plan to stay? I would offer accommodations, but I’m afraid I don’t have the room.” She’d slept on Jeremey’s pallet until her younger brother came along. Father didn’t have funds to build another room, so she’d made her pallet on the other side of the stove until Father died and she took his room.

  “Haven’t given it a thought.”

  She noticed how the set of his jaw tightened. Granted, the “meeting” had not gone entirely as hoped. It was clear that neither party could place the other. “Of course, you could stay with Pauline, but her home is cramped like mine, and—”

  “Thank you for your concern, ma’am, but I’ll find a room.”

  She studied on that and then admitted, “Dwadlo doesn’t have a boardinghouse, Mr. Curtis. It did once, but the woman who ran it had to leave. Her sister needed her back East, and she couldn’t find a buyer for the place, so it has sat empty since.” She realized she was beginning to babble and stopped talking. But she kept thinking.

  Obviously he couldn’t sleep outdoors. It would be poor manners to unite a man with misplaced kin and then make him sleep outside in the dead of January. He seemed lost in thought, and she wondered if he was even listening to her.

  “I won’t rest well knowing I haven’t provided you with home comforts.” She paused and then snapped her fingers. “Of course. Dale can take you in for a spell.” Mr. Curtis wouldn’t be here long. It didn’t take much to know that. He would be out of here the moment he found someone to care for his aunt.

  Tom’s steps paused, and he finally turned to look at her. “Dale who?”

  “The man who owns the General Store. That’s wher
e Dwadlo’s post office is too. Folks come in to purchase goods and get their mail at the same time. Dale lives in back of the store, and I’m sure he’d welcome the company.”

  “Miss Wilkey—”

  “Please.” She smiled. “Call me Mae.”

  “Mae, I’ll only be here a day or two. Just long enough to figure out what to do with Pauline or get her settled somewhere. I can find a room.”

  “No, you can’t.” She sighed. “Like I said, there aren’t any available. You’ll have to settle for staying with Dale.”

  “Ma’am—”

  She held up a forefinger. “Mae?” Noticing his handsome features in the dim light of evening, somehow she wished he would be staying longer. And she definitely didn’t want him calling her ma’am.

  “Mae, I think you’re getting your hopes up. I can’t take Pauline back with me. I live in a boardinghouse, and my job requires that I travel. I personally can’t take care of her, but I can pay for her care here if she turns out to be my kinfolk. I’m going to have to check further into that possibility.”

  Pondering a moment, she shook her head. “There isn’t anyone around here who can care for her, Mr. Curtis. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

  “Pardon me, Mae, but if you want me to call you by your given name, I think it’s only fitting that you call me Tom.”

  “All right then, Tom. Dwadlo is a small community, and everyone has more mouths than they can feed now. I’ve asked as far away as Pine Grove and Branch Springs, and there isn’t anyone. Trust me.”

  “All due respect, but why should I trust you? I just met you.”

  The man was absolutely right. Why should he trust a stranger? “True, but as you can see, we live a simple life here in Dwadlo. I wouldn’t attempt to mislead you where Pauline’s care is concerned, nor would I when trying to find you a place to reside while you’re here. Dale is one of the most upstanding citizens in town. His living area is admittedly small—you’d probably have to sleep on a pallet on the floor—but I’m sure he wouldn’t object.”

  “I’m a private man, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable staying with…Dale. If there’s a barn nearby I’ll sleep there. And speaking of living arrangements, what would I do with all of the dogs and cats Pauline’s acquired?”

  “That is a worry,” Mae admitted. “She’s tried to give them away or give them back for a long time now, but she only accumulates more every year. I don’t know what you’d do with them.”

  “It’s one thing to assume Pauline’s care and another to be responsible for those animals.”

  “I understand, but I’m certain God will work it all out.”

  “Do you understand? I have to wonder that if the tables were turned, and you were handed a ‘could be’ relative you knew nothing about, you’d have such a sunny outlook on the situation.”

  She understood what he was trying to say and wondered the same herself. She had no answer to that. “There’s Pauline’s shed…” Her voice trailed when she saw recognition hit his face.

  His footsteps paused. “You should know something. I’m not an animal lover. I think pets are fine for most folks, but I was bitten by a mongrel once, and I can remember the long days we waited to see if the dog was rabid. Turned out it wasn’t, but it made an impression on me. I steer clear of both dogs and cats. Also, they make me sneeze.”

  “What a pity. Pets are such a joy.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Pauline must be dying of happiness.”

  She barely noticed the remark because her head was spinning with possibilities. She must accommodate Tom Curtis. If he left without Pauline she wasn’t sure what she could do. The elderly lady’s plight worried Mae near to death, but she had to work. She had no other choice. Papa died a poor man, and she and her brother lived from week to week. Jeremy needed little, and she hadn’t made a new dress in three years, but the good Lord provided. “Well, then,” she began, “why don’t I stay in Dale’s quarters? I will be comfortable there for a few days.”

  “And where does Dale go?”

  “My house. You, Dale, and Jeremy can stay at my place long enough for you to settle family matters.” Maybe she overemphasized the word “family,” but it was only fair that he accepted his responsibility. And with Jeremy there, perhaps he’d feel more comfortable.

  “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but is Jeremy…” He paused, wondering how to ask the sensitive question.

  She understood. “Jeremy was injured at birth. He thinks like a nine-year-old in most areas. You saw how well he cooks. He’s gifted with housekeeping and animals. Pauline pays him to feed and water her dogs and cats, and he dutifully fulfills his job.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  Smiling, she said softly, “Don’t be sorry. Jeremy is my greatest blessing in life.” She paused. “Are you a God-fearing man, Tom?”

  He focused on his boots. “I gather you’re a religious woman?”

  “I believe in the Bible’s teachings. Do you?”

  “Mae, if you don’t mind I’d like to focus on a place to stay the night. It’s been a long day, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

  When he didn’t answer her question, it made her wonder if he was indeed a God-fearing man, but it wasn’t her business one way or the other. “Of course. Let me tell Jeremy the plan and then we’ll go ask Dale for his help.” She was confident the store owner would be willing to fall in with the arrangement. Dale had known Mae and her brother all of their lives. He was like a second father, and there wasn’t a kinder man on earth. “Oh. Dale sometimes smokes a pipe. Would that bother you?”

  “I can live with it.”

  “I’ll tell Jeremy to be careful to keep the animals away from the house.”

  Nodding, he walked on.

  Be extra careful, she thought as she prepared to tell her brother the news. She’d do everything possible to make Tom Curtis comfortable for a few days. She would be fine in Dale’s quarters. The arrangement would give her a chance to thoroughly clean his living space, and Jeremy could also help Dale with his daily baking.

  Tom Curtis wouldn’t leave without somehow arranging for Pauline’s care.

  Victory was so close she could taste it.

  Within the hour Tom was settled at Mae’s with a plate of hot biscuits and sausage patties in front of him. A steaming cobbler cooled on the counter. Fresh milk, which had been put outside to cool, sat on the table, and hot coffee perked on the stove. His boardinghouse didn’t offer this much service.

  Mae emerged from the bedroom with a small valise. “I think that should do it. Jeremy, you take good care of our guests.”

  “I have to feed the animals.”

  “Of course. You can go now if you like.”

  Those were the first words Tom heard him speak. Reaching for a hot biscuit, Tom asked. “Should I wait for Dale before I eat?”

  Smiling, Mae paused beside his chair. “Why do you ask? It appears you’ve made your decision.” The back door closed behing Jeremy.

  Tom winked at her. “Jeremy bakes a mean biscuit.” He liked the way the color rose to her cheeks. How many years had it been since a man winked at her? He couldn’t help but wonder again why Mae Wilkey wasn’t married.

  “If you like his biscuits, you’ll love his corn bread.” Picking up her bag, she glanced around the undersized kitchen. “Make yourself at home. You can’t hurt anything.”

  She gave him another grin, and he noticed her features. She reminded him of a girl he’d known years ago. Bright and self-assured but not flashy. She wore her blond hair in a knot on the back of her head and her cheeks glowed with health. Her eyes were the color of dark toffee. The combination was nice, but Tom didn’t have time for personal matters. He occasionally thought he should marry and settle down, but with the new promotion awaiting him, that seemed a distant prospect. He supposed now that Pauline had come into his life, and if she proved to be a long-lost aunt or cousin, he’d be in Dwadlo more often than he would like. The trips would be time-consuming. Another reason
family life wouldn’t work for him just now.

  “Well, I’m off. Dale’s mother lived with him until a few months ago. He’s been lonely since her death. The company will be good for him.” She smiled. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  She left, and within minutes a rap sounded at the door. Mae told Tom earlier that when she explained the circumstances to Dale, he’d nodded, stripped off his apron, and gone to pack a small bag. Tom reached for the butter. “It’s open!”

  The doorknob turned, and a man stepped into the kitchen. The nondescript store owner appeared harmless enough and obliging as well. He was dressed in heavy-soled shoes, black pants, and a white shirt with the cuffs turned up. A pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his globular nose. He smelled of tobacco—a cherry blend.

  Without a word, he walked to the bedroom and set his satchel on the bed. Frowning, Tom wondered where he was supposed to sleep. His eyes focused on the small couch that resembled a good-size rattrap. Mae surely didn’t think his six-foot frame would fit on that torture box. Then he spotted two pallets by the stove and had a hunch of where he’d sleep. At least it would be warm.

  Dale returned from the bedroom and sat down at the table. After a moment Tom asked, “Have you eaten?” The man shook his head and Tom motioned toward the food. “Help yourself.”

  Sitting upright, Dale stared at his plate but didn’t make a move. Tom couldn’t understand why he was just sitting there. “Better eat up. The biscuits are hot.” The older man remained focused on his plate. After a moment Tom got it. Apparently Dale’s mother had waited on him hand and foot.

  Shoving away from the table, he reached for a plate off the sideboard and then filled it with two biscuits stuffed with fat sausage patties. He set the plate in front of store owner. “There you go. Enjoy.” He returned to his supper. After a moment, he noticed Dale was still waiting.

  “You need something else?” He watched Dale stare at his empty cup. “Oh—right. Coffee.” This was going to be a long two days. He stood, snagged the pot, and carried it to the table.

  Dale shook his head.

  “You don’t want coffee? You need cream? Sugar?” The man concentrated on the milk pitcher. “Milk. Okay.” Tom fetched a glass, poured milk into it, and set it down before turning back to his cold supper.