Mayweather obviously agreed. She beamed approvingly as she held out her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll take those and put them away. You go on to the sink and wash up.”
She nodded to Callie as she passed. “Would you hand him a plate, please?”
Callie nodded and stepped past Jack, reaching into the cupboard. “Mrs. Mayweather brewed a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, thank you.”
There was a formality about their interactions today, a sort of stiff truce. But at least it was a truce.
She watched him heap a pile of eggs and two biscuits onto his plate, then he took a seat at the long kitchen table. Simon was still picking at his own breakfast but the girls had finished theirs.
Annabeth immediately moved to Jack’s side. “Did you see Cinnamon and Taffy and Pepper last night?” she asked before he’d even settled in.
“Cinnamon, Taffy and Pepper.” Jack drawled the words as he smeared jam on his biscuit. “Some of my favorite flavors. But I’m afraid I didn’t look in the pantry.”
Annabeth giggled. “They don’t live in the pantry, silly.”
“They don’t?”
Callie smiled at the teasing tone in Jack’s voice. Perhaps she’d been wrong about his ability to relate to the children. Maybe she should just step back and let him—
The memory of his declaration that he wasn’t “the praying kind” interrupted her move toward retreat and stiffened her resolve. It just plain didn’t matter how charming he could be, these children needed her in their lives, too.
But for now, she’d give him his share of time to create a connection with his nieces and nephew.
“They’re animals, not food,” Annabeth explained with exaggerated patience. She began to tick them off on her fingers. “Cinnamon is my pony and Taffy is the big yellow cat who lives in the barn and Pepper is our dog.”
“Oh!” Jack did a good job of sounding surprised. “Well, in that case, yes, I saw all three of them.”
The child twirled a curl with one pudgy finger. “Do you think they miss me?”
“I’m certain they do.”
Emma set her elbows on the table next to Simon. “I have a dog, too.”
Jack turned his attention to his other niece. “Do you?”
She nodded her head. “He’s a beagle and his name is Cookie.”
“Now, would he by any chance be that fine looking animal I saw outside next to Mrs. Mayweather’s carriage house?”
Emma beamed at the compliment. “Uh-huh. And I had a bird, too. Mr. Peepers. But he…” Her lower lip began to tremble.
Callie caught the panicked look on Jack’s face and quickly stepped in. “Emma, would you please bring me the empty platter from the stove?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jack gave her a small nod and she felt a warm glow at this ever-so-slight sign of gratitude. Maybe he was finally beginning to see how she could help with the children. Perhaps they could work this whole matter out amicably after all.
A few moments later he carried his dishes to the sink. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he turned back to the children. “I plan to head back out to the farm to take care of some chores. Why don’t you all come with me? Annabeth, you can visit with your animals. And Emma and Simon, you can take Cookie along and let him run as far and as long as he wants to.”
Callie stiffened, the glow quickly evaporating. Was he actually planning to take the children and not her?
Annabeth clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes! Do you think Mrs. Mayweather will let me bring some of her sugar cubes for Cinnamon?”
“We’ll ask her,” Jack answered. “But I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
“And Aunt Callie can come, too, can’t she?”
Bless Annabeth’s innocent little heart.
Jack cut her a quick glance, that stiff formality firmly back in place. “Yes, of course. That is, if she wants to?”
Was it her imagination, or did it sound as if he’d rather she declined the invitation?
She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly. “I need to make a stop at the telegraph office first, but I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”
Chapter Eight
“Here we are.”
Callie breathed a small sigh of relief, glad that she would finally be able to escape the confines of the buggy. The only men she’d been in such close proximity to before were her father and her sisters’ husbands. Jack was a different sort of man altogether, and she wasn’t exactly certain how to talk to him.
Not that he’d seemed to want to talk. The only conversation during the entire carriage ride had been among and with the children. The two adults had barely said three words to each other.
She certainly hoped the children hadn’t picked up on the tension between her and Jack. They had enough to deal with at the moment without this added burden.
She leaned forward as Jack brought the carriage to a stop, forgetting her discomfort in her eagerness to view the homeplace Julia had written about in such loving detail over the years. The house, fronted by rosebushes and shaded on the left by a venerable oak, was as charming as she’d imagined it to be. An oversized swing hung from one end of the roomy front porch, and Callie could picture Julia sitting there with Annabeth beside her, reading stories or doing a bit of needlework.
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