Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby

“Good to see you here.” A man whose name Wade couldn’t remember pumped his hand up and down, his face beaming. “Glad to have you in Waseka.”

“Uh, thanks.” Wade felt vaguely ashamed of his churlish behavior. Not everyone was all bad.

“You ever bowl? We’re one short on our team and I sure wouldn’t mind getting someone who can roll a few strikes. Call me up if you’re interested. Ed Mason’s the name.”

“Thanks. I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’ll think about it.” Wade watched the other man saunter away, then turned to gather his brood. Instead, he found himself virtually alone inside the building. Now what?

He sauntered down the aisle and out the door. They were there on the lawn, all four of them, clustered around her, laughing and giggling. Probably at some remark she’d made about him. Wade felt his jaw tighten in annoyance and struggled to suppress it. Why did she get under his skin like this?

“Really? A picnic? What would we have?” That was Jared, consumed with the condition of his perpetually empty stomach.

“Mm, fried chicken, maybe? With potato salad. And watermelon scones.” Clarissa brushed a hand over Tildy’s riot of inexpertly permed curls. “Maybe some chocolate layer cake for dessert. Or strawberry shortcake. How does that sound?”

“Like I died and went to heaven.” Jared groaned, patting his ribs. “When can we go?”

“You can’t.” Wade walked up behind them, frowning in reproof at Clarissa. “Miss Cartwright has other things to do. And we can manage meals perfectly well on our own.”

“But Clarissa was going to teach me how to make fried chicken for my home ec class,” Tildy protested. “And Lacey wants to get some help with that biology paper.”

“I’ll help her. And we can buy fried chicken in town. Or make it at home. Let’s go.” He herded them toward the sidewalk. “Tildy, you, Lacey and the boys go ahead and get lunch started. I just have to stop and talk to someone for a minute. I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, Uncle Wade.” Tildy didn’t even look at him, but he could tell from the pout on her pretty face that she wasn’t happy with his edict. Her heels hit the pavement with hard, knee-jarring thumps.

Wade winced at the girl’s anger while his own temper inched up another degree. It was all her fault! All this meddling from their nosy neighbor had made the kids rebellious. He turned back toward the church with vengeance fogging his brain.

“Miss Cartwright, I asked you to leave us alone. Why can’t you respect my wishes?”

She stared at him, her eyes big pools of innocence in her long thin face.

“I didn’t encourage them. Really! It was just that Pierce mentioned it was a lovely day for bird-watching. Then Jared suggested a picnic, and I joined in his game of pretend. I wasn’t hinting anything.”

Her face, open and oh, so innocent, peered back at him.

“Yeah, right.” He led her out of the way of the crowd and off to one side. Then he stood in front of her, daring her to try to wiggle out of this one. “I’m asking you for the last time to leave my kids alone. We don’t need your help. It was nice of you to do what you’ve done, and I do appreciate it, but we’re settled in now and we’re doing just fine by ourselves.”

She looked a little surprised and confused by his words. That blank, credulous look made him say something he shouldn’t have.

“Please, lady, just leave us alone. I know you want to help but you can’t. No one can. I’ve got to do this on my own, no matter how much I might want somebody there to share the load. We’ve got to learn how to be a family together. Alone.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” she whispered, her face ashen. The twinkle of happiness he’d glimpsed earlier disappeared. “I just thought I could help out. I didn’t think you’d find out about the jeans or the ironing.”

Wade felt his face freeze. He allowed his gaze to slip just a little lower, to the pressed cotton of his shirt. He should have known Lacey hadn’t done it!

“They’re so busy doing chores all day, they don’t have time to play. Everything is so serious for them. I was just trying to lend a hand.” Her earnest voice pleaded with him to understand, dropped almost to a whisper. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you have to earn your keep.”

Wade felt the pain in those softly spoken words and wondered what had caused it. Clarissa Cartwright hardly looked like a little Cinderella. In spite of that, he couldn’t stem the tide of chagrin that rose in a wave of gall. How dare she go to his house, check out his family and how he provided for them? How dare she snoop through his home on the pretext of mending their worn clothes? He knew they weren’t the best, but at least they were clean and paid for. Well, most of the time they were clean.

“Look, maybe we don’t live the kind of dream life you want. I know the kids have to pitch in. But it won’t hurt them. They’ll learn accountability. Raising them is up to me, not you.” He felt a tide of red rise in his cheeks as he noticed the tiny mending stitches on the knee of his jeans.

Even in the best of all possible worlds, his nieces couldn’t sew like that, and he should have known it, would have known it if he’d paid more attention to them.

“I love those kids as if they were my very own. They’re not going to get mixed up in drugs or booze or any of that stuff as long as I’m around.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But they’re not going to have a mother, either. Not even a pretend one. And they have to face that.” He took a deep breath and went on the attack.

“So I wish you’d stop trying to weasel your way into our lives just so you can prove to everyone how much better off you’d treat them. In two words, Miss Cartwright—butt out!”

Wade turned and found several pairs of eyes on him. He knew then that the congregation had heard every word he’d said. Before the noon siren screamed across the town, they’d spread it far and wide. A surge of remorse washed over him, but he thrust it away, his mind boiling with frustration.

Maybe now these people would stop shoving Clarissa Cartwright’s single status in his face!

Wade made himself spend time talking with Pastor Mike, chatting to Jerry about the walk-in cedar closet he wanted in his house. By the time he strode down the sidewalk, hands clenched inside his pockets, most of the folks had dispersed. And that included Clarissa. He’d known the exact moment she’d scurried away, head downcast, shoulders slumped.

He forced his mind away off her and took a detour on the way home in order to concentrate on the list of jobs he’d garnered around town. With a little luck, maybe he could make enough to put some money in the bank for that rainy day that kept happening when work ran out. He was going to need a little extra cash. Especially now, with the country club project delayed.

It wasn’t five minutes before he got caught up in studying the Victorian architecture of the row of houses on Primrose Lane. He kept walking, trying to remember the details he’d planted deep in his brain last year in order to gain acceptance to the college of architecture.

As he studied gables and turrets, Wade let his mind turn over the problem of life in Waseka. He’d tried to keep to himself, tried to avoid the inevitable matchmaking. He’d been through it enough times. And every time the kids got their hopes up, he had to dash them because the woman in question always wanted something he couldn’t give. She sure wasn’t looking to take on a ready-made family that belonged to someone else. At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he didn’t want the responsibility of yet another person cluttering up his life.

Wade trudged down the street with the sun beating on his head, lost in his thoughts of providing a future for four needy children who were totally dependent on him. His shoulders bowed under all that being their parent demanded, the knowledge that he was no good at responsibility nagging in the back of his brain.

He flinched in surprise when small, sharp-nailed fingers closed around his arm, pinching tight in their effort to penetrate and thus slow him down. Wade flung the hand away, then whirled around to see who was attacking him.

She stood there, sea foam eyes turbulent with temper. Clarissa might have to look up to meet his gaze, but she certainly didn’t seem intimidated. She looked more like a wasp about to sting.

“How dare you embarrass me like that? I didn’t help them out because of you! I wouldn’t do anything for you. You’re too stubborn and far too arrogant to want to help, Mr. Featherhawk.” Her words were so sharp, they could have torn a strip off him.

He waited, mentally flinching at the fury in her face, but keeping his own countenance impassive.

“Did I mention self-absorbed?” She crossed both arms across her chest and glared. “Or conceited? I did it for them, you know. Because they deserve some decent food, some time to play, a clean house and a shoulder to cry on once in a while. They’ve had to grow up awfully fast since their parents’ deaths. Can’t you let them be children for even one afternoon without lording it over them and forcing them to wallow in the drudgery?”

Oh, brother! Over the past two weeks they must have poured out the whole ugly story. As if he wanted to deprive them of anything when they’d already lost both parents. Wade sighed, his whole body sagging with tiredness as she continued her diatribe. As he waited, she slapped her hands on her hips and laughed, a harsh discordant sound that didn’t match her delicate looks.

“You’re so worried about getting trapped—who would want to marry you anyway?” She sniffed, her snubbed nose tipped upward in haughty reproof. “It’s not as if you’re the least bit pleasant to be around. I feel sorry for those kids, living with a bear like you, Wade Featherhawk. You carry a chip big enough for the whole Cree nation.”

Clarissa gave him one last huff, then turned and stomped away, her heels tap-tapping on the sidewalk. Openmouthed, Wade watched her until she closed her white picket gate, climbed the steps to her rickety old house and firmly closed the door on him. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why he’d chosen this street anyway.

Then he turned the corner toward home, his shoulders hunching forward as he thought over what she’d said.

“Way to go, bud! You’ve already got so many friends in this place, you can really afford to slap down the one person who was willing to help out, no questions asked. Smart, very smart.”

He shut his mind on that mocking inner voice and kept walking toward the park. He needed to think….

Wade wasn’t sure how much time passed before he wandered out of the park and down the street. He scanned the sky, but that didn’t help. Heritage or not, he couldn’t tell time by the sun. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the plume of smoke coming from down the street. From his house! Wade broke into a sprint that carried him through the front door and into the kitchen in less than a minute.

“Tildy? Something’s burning.” He grabbed a pot mitt and lifted the smoke-belching pan from the stove, searching for a place to set it down.

Since the counter was covered with dirty dishes and the table still held the remains of breakfast, he carried the pot outside and across the backyard to dump its charred remains into the garbage barrel.

Clarissa Cartwright stood across the alley, in her own yard, fork poised over a barbeque. She raised one eyebrow quizzically.