Next Door Daddy (3 page)

Nate lifted a brow. “The man of the house needs to know how to wash his own clothes.” It had been a hard lesson learned. Having a doting mother and then a doting wife, he'd made a mess of things for a while.

Gil's forehead crinkled. “You know how to wash your own clothes?”

“Yup.” Nate's gaze snagged on Pollyanna's as she came through the double doors into the utility room. She'd changed into dry clothes and towel dried her previously drenched hair. She was pretty in a soft way. “I'm all done here.” He was suddenly more than ready to get back home.

She leaned against the door frame and watched him push the washer closer to the wall, Gil helping.

“Mom. Nat—Mr. Talbert says I should learn to wash my own clothes.”

Wiping his hands on a rag Pollyanna had given him earlier, Nate looked from child to mother. Dry, they really were a matched pair in more ways than their green eyes. They had the same wavy hair, like the warm color of Bogie's cinnamon coat, and both had a dusting of freckles across their noses.

“I think that'd be a grand idea. We can start with your jeans and all those towels you use when you take your baths. How about you run up and feed your animals right now and I'll get your supper on the table.”

“Sure! Hey, Mr. Talbert, you wanna stay for supper? Can he, Mom?” He was hopping from one foot to the other again and Nate got the idea that the boy was in constant motion.

Nate shook his head, catching the flash of hesitation in Pollyanna's eyes. “No, that's okay.” He was as against the idea as she obviously was.

She blushed and her good manners took over in an instant as her expression shifted into a smile. Unsure, but a smile. “Oh, please stay. After what we've put you through, I owe you something for all your trouble.”

She didn't owe him anything. “No trouble.” He was already reaching for his hat. “But I've got my own chores to finish up.” He saw the disappointment in the boy's eyes and the relief in hers as he strode the short steps to the back door.

It was one thing to help out, but the last thing he needed or they needed was to get too close.

To his credit, the boy didn't protest but once, and Nate couldn't help noticing that his mother's hand on his shoulder and a quick shake of her head halted anything else he might have said. At the door, Nate tipped his wet hat and left them there, mother and child, and at their feet, the dog. And somewhere behind them the bird singing, “Jesus loves Pepper, oh, yes, He does.”

An odd bunch that made Nate intensely aware of all the dreams he'd laid to rest when he lost Kayla.

Only days before he'd prayed for the Lord to send him a miracle to help him cope with the leftovers of his life…He had a bad feeling he was going to need that miracle even more now, because his neighbors were acute reminders of exactly how empty his life had become.

T
he day after the washing-machine fiasco Gil woke up talking about their new neighbor. He was talking about Nate Talbert even as his ride picked him up for school and they drove away. Mule Hollow shared a school with a couple of other small communities. It was about twenty miles from town. Polly and the mother of one of the other boys had joined forces and started a carpool. As she watched the car disappear down the lane, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn't exactly know how to take her son's sudden and immediate infatuation with the gruff cowboy.

She didn't have time to think about it long since a trail of cars turned in her drive almost immediately.

In the lead was the pink 1958 Caddy that belonged to Lacy Matlock. Lacy had the top down, and she started waving the moment she spotted Polly on the porch. Polly wasn't sure she'd ever met anyone as full of life and love of the Lord as Lacy. They were about the same age, but next to Lacy, Polly felt a bit like a tarnished penny.

Within seconds Lacy pulled to a halt and the truck following her did, too. The three older women who climbed out of it were Mule Hollow's very heart and soul. They'd single-handedly come up with a plan to save their town by advertising for would-be wives. The idea had picked up; women had answered the call. Day after day there was one less lonesome cowboy riding the range around town.

When Polly had first heard about the town, she almost hadn't believed the story. But it was true. The town once bustling with life had started dying when the oil boom busted and the families had to move off to find work. Not close enough to anything to attract new families, all that had remained were the old-timers and the cowboys. Things were changing due to the efforts of these three ladies and Lacy.

And Polly had chosen to move here because she felt drawn to be a part of the effort. She also felt that it was a great place for a B and B. When she'd found this Victorian for sale she'd believed it was a sign that this was the place to make her dreams come true.

Within minutes of their arrival, Polly's kitchen was a flurry of action as they all set to help her unpack the huge amount of boxes. She had furniture that would still be delivered after she got the upstairs painted, but that was going to take her at least a couple of weeks. For now, when the kitchen was unpacked she would be box free for a little while. That was a good feeling.

“You should take the doors off those cabinets,” Esther Mae Wilcox said a half hour later. She stood studying the cabinets, her red head tilted to the side and her index finger on her chin. “You have all this stunning glass. You shouldn't hide it behind doors.”

“That's a great idea,” Polly agreed from where she stood barefoot on the counter. She loved Depression glass and had collected an overabundance of it. It was going to come in handy now that she was opening the bed-and-breakfast. “If I remove these pesky doors it'll not only make the room look like a rainbow of color, but be convenient for me, too.”

The room had twelve-foot ceilings. The cabinets went all the way up, which was one reason she was standing barefoot on the counter. It beat going up and down a ladder as Esther Mae handed her dish after dish.

From all corners of the room everyone offered their agreement.

“I just love Depression glass,” Esther Mae continued. She pulled a plate from the box and admired it before handing it up to Polly. “Although, I think the name is oddly off since there is nothing depressing about it.”

“It was made during the Depression,” Norma Sue Jenkins said from inside the walk-in pantry where she was working. “That's depressing enough!”

“Well, I know that,” Esther Mae huffed. “I lived through it as a kid, too, you know. Maybe that's why I love to look at it so much. There just isn't anything prettier than a bunch of colored glass.”

“I agree,” Lacy said.

Polly handled the dainty plate with care. “My grandmother got me started with my infatuation with it. Those green Vaseline dishes were hers. I started collecting the Depression glass because it looked similar and I loved the colors, especially the pink and blue dishes. And the lemon,” she smiled. “Who am I kidding? I love them all.”

“Me, too.” Esther Mae chuckled. “You know, if you hold a black light to the Vaseline glass it fires because of the uranium in it.” She held the bright green candy dish to her. “That means it glows in black light,” she said for anyone who might not know what she was talking about.

Polly took it from her when she held it up to her. “My gram, she keeps hers in a special cabinet my granddad built her. He installed black lighting, and when I was a kid she loved to turn off the lights and show me how her dishes glowed.”

“Where do your grandparents live?” Norma Sue asked as she came out of the pantry. She was a robust woman with an infectious smile that filled out her plump face. Polly had a feeling that anything Norma Sue set out to do got done.

“They moved to Arizona because of my granddad's allergies. We don't get to see them as much now and I really miss them. I almost moved out there to open my place. But I wanted to stay in Texas. Just wanted to get out of Dallas.”

“And we are so glad you did. What about your parents?” Adela Ledbetter-Green asked, setting a blue glass on the table beside a group of matching pieces. She was a darling wisp of a woman, quieter than her two friends, and though she was a widow in her early seventies she'd recently married her longtime sweetheart. Polly thought that was both romantic and a bit sad, too, thinking about how life moves forward. Her Marc slipped into her thoughts, bringing with him that mixture of emotions. With God's help and her determination to make Marc proud of her, she was moving forward without him beside her…but to remarry—The very idea set alarms off in her heart.

“My parents,” she said, pushing the idea of remarrying out of her mind, “live in Brenham, Texas. You know, the home of Blue Bell ice cream.”

“I just love that ice cream!” Esther Mae exclaimed. “You know that homemade vanilla can't be beat. Of course, my Hank, he's a Rocky Road fella. 'Course, I can't eat too much of it since I've started my exercise program.”

Norma Sue coughed. “I saw three cartons of the stuff in your freezer when I went to get ice for my tea yesterday. There was hardly any room in there for ice.”

Esther Mae harrumphed. “It was on sale, three for ten dollars. I couldn't pass up a deal like that.”

Lacy paused from wiping drawers, her blue eyes sparkling. She caught Polly's gaze, winked, then went back to work. Polly had realized soon after meeting the three older ladies that Norma Sue and Esther Mae played off of each other like a stand-up act. They bantered and bickered good naturedly almost constantly, while Adela threw in a comment every once in a while to gently steer them back in from chasing rabbits to the conversation at hand. A person couldn't help smiling. Listening to them made her think of her grandparents, who also enjoyed a good argument.

Esther Mae was handing Polly a bowl when Norma Sue came over and looked up at her.

“So, what do you think about your neighbor?”

The sudden change of subject brought Polly up short. Up until yesterday she'd only seen her neighbor coming and going in the distance that separated their driveways. Her home sat up on a hill, and though she couldn't see his home because it was screened by a stand of oak trees, his long driveway was very visible. “Well, I only just met him yesterday.” She glanced around the room to find everyone watching her the way Gil eyed his birthday presents before he opened them.

“You mean, he actually came over?” Esther Mae gasped.

Polly wasn't too excited about revealing her embarrassing moment, but she told them, anyway.

When she finished telling the tale everyone looked shocked.

“Our Nate did that?” Norma Sue asked.

“Yes. Poor man probably wishes I'd never moved in beside him.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Adela assured her. “This is a good thing.”

Esther Mae was handing Pollyanna a gold vase, but she absentmindedly yanked her arm back, leaving Polly grasping at air. “It really is. I was beginning to worry about that boy. Why, I honestly didn't think he would come over here and introduce himself to you. He's become such a hermit.”

“Don't worry about him,” Adela said. “He has to act in his own time. He hasn't been one to offer help in the past three years because he needed the time to heal.”

“That's right,” Lacy agreed. “We've got to keep the faith that he's coming around. He's helped with a couple of festivals lately. That's progress.”

Norma Sue shook her wiry gray hair. “But only in the setting up of them. He didn't come near town during the actual events. Not even the Christmas program.”

“That's right, but we've understood.” Adela looked about the room, her gaze coming to rest on Pollyanna. “He's had to take his time, move at his own pace, and we've tried not to interfere or push. You and I understand that,” she explained. Her brilliant blue eyes were full of compassion. “No one can truly understand what it means to lose your soul mate like those who've experienced it.”

A lump rose in Polly's throat. Nate Talbert was a widower.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, knowing all too well the words were inadequate. Polly hated to think about it, but one half of every couple would someday have to face the loss of the other, it was a part of living. Still, she wouldn't wish it on anyone. The knowledge that her neighbor had borne such a loss both saddened her and linked her to him as it did with Adela. It was like being members of a club you had no desire to be initiated into but couldn't get out of.

“God's blessed me, dear. God has given us resilient hearts, and you may not see it yet, but you and Nate can have room in your hearts to love again.”

A shadow fell over Polly's heart. “I'm really happy for you, Adela, but I'm not looking for love again.”

“Of course you are,” Esther Mae exclaimed. “You're too young and you have that wonderful son who needs a daddy.”

“Esther Mae,” Norma Sue barked, censure in her tone.

“Don't you ‘Esther Mae' me,” the feisty redhead snapped, her gaze lifted to Polly. Her voiced gentled. “You can't limit the Lord like that, Pollyanna.”

Polly crouched down on the counter and patted Esther Mae's hand. “It's okay, it's not like that. I'm okay, Gil's okay. I came to Mule Hollow to open a business—
not
for one of your cowboys. I'll leave them for someone else. Really. God's blessed me with the love of an amazing man and for a little while I had more than I could ever hope or dream of…That kind of love couldn't happen twice. And well, I don't have any desire to mess up such a perfect memory. That's the main reason I'll never marry again.”

“The main reason—you have more?” Esther Mae asked.

Polly swallowed down the fear, the doubts that always rushed to the surface if she let her guard down. She nodded, not trusting her voice at first. “Oh, yes,” she managed to say after a moment. “I have more.”

 

The afternoon after meeting his new neighbors, the boy and his dog showed up when Nate was unloading feed. He'd ridden his bike over, and Bogie was panting like a locomotive as they huffed around the bend and into the yard. “Hey, Nate!” Gil called, hopping from his bike while it was still moving, then pulling it to a stop. “What's in the bags?”

“Feed,” Nate grunted, hefting two at a time onto the palettes in the corner of the barn. It wasn't as if he could ignore the boy, even though he had a bad feeling about the entire situation. Off and on all morning he'd rehashed the emotions he'd felt the day before, being around Gil and his mother. He felt a sense of connection to them in one sense but he also felt an overwhelming need to maintain his distance. He'd become almost accustomed to being disconnected from everything. Sure, he'd asked for intervention, but truthfully, the Lord was going to have to intervene with his attitude, too, or it wasn't happening. Some bruises ran too deep.

But none of that was the kid's fault, and Nate was smart enough to know that the strain he felt around the boy had more to do with how much he'd wanted kids with Kayla than anything about Gil. He wouldn't be much of a man if he took it out on the fresh-faced boy.

“I can help,” Gil offered, kicking the stand to his bike down and leaving it in the door of the barn. Bogie, too tuckered out to be curious, dropped like a rock to his belly in the dust.

Nate felt his gut twist but nodded as he hefted another load. “Tell you what. How 'bout you climb into the bed of the truck and push bags off the top there down to me.” Nate didn't figure the slight boy could lift a fifty-pound bag, he'd seen him struggle to carry Bogie, but maybe he could shove one in his direction.

Face set in determination, Gil scampered up into the truck and reached for the bag on the top of the stack. With a grunt he pulled. When nothing happened he climbed behind the bags and shoved. The bag rewarded him by sliding to the bed with a thud.

“Good job,” Nate said, and meant it. He tugged it to him and tossed it to the stack. Gil already had his shoulder pressed to the next bag, his expression ripe with the effort. They worked for almost thirty minutes, and Nate couldn't help admire the boy's hard work. When the truck was empty, Gil hopped to the ground.