Then Lionel held out a slip of paper. “By the way, a telegram came for you this morning.”
Hank reached for the telegram, unable to repress a sense of dread. The only telegrams he’d ever received had contained bad news. The last one had brought him word of his sister’s and brother-in-law’s deaths.
He slowly unfolded the paper and read the missive.
Tom Parson taken ill. No other driver available to transport me to Turnabout. Will likely be Monday before I arrive.
Rowena Collins
Today was Saturday, so that meant he was on his own for at least two days. And there would be no warm, clean house or hot meal to greet them. This wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected at all.
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
