Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby. Lois Richer

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      “Go ahead, children. Eat your dinner. We’ve some homework to do later. Your uncle is tired. Let him relax.”

      Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as one by one, the kids took up the signal, dishing up her food like locusts on a field of tender green shoots. Soon the conversation was going a mile a minute. Wade decided to go with the flow. He picked up the salad and filled his bowl.

      “Clarissa’s house is a great place, Uncle Wade. Do you know she’s got a screen porch back there? I’m gonna sit out there tonight and watch the fireflies. Some people around here call them lightning bugs. Isn’t that a silly name?”

      Pierce chatted away a mile a minute, and Wade let him, content to eat while he examined Clarissa’s ability to get his whole family involved in the conversation.

      How did she do that? The most he got some nights was a grunt or a heap of complaints. Of course, it wasn’t while they were eating food like this!

      Jared looked pleased by his reasoning.

      “Yeah! And we can live in this house, right, Uncle Wade? For a little while anyway.” He grinned happily. “I love this old house. It’s kinda like staying with an old friend. It’s got some problems, but it’s homey.”

      The words stabbed Wade with the wealth of longing he could hear beneath those words. He had no idea the boy felt that way. When had they ever hung around anywhere long enough to make old friends? Of course, he’d lost a lot. Kendra had a knack for making her house a home, probably because she’d loved her kids so much.

      “I think it’s a romantic house with all these crocheted curtains, and especially those frilly things over Clarissa’s bed.”

      Lacey sighed and hugged herself in a melodramatic way that Wade knew meant she’d been reading sappy love stories again. Oh well, she’d run into reality soon enough. Why spoil the illusion of happy ever after?

      “If we lived here all the time, I could take all kinds of pictures of the birds. Clarissa’s got way better birds than we have, plus she’s got the woods right out there. We’ve just got that dumb old playground, and the noise scares them away. Can I have some more meat? Please?”

      The topic of the conversation said nothing, merely smiling at the children as they talked and munching on the minuscule amounts of food she placed on her own plate.

      Though Wade spent a long time studying her, Clarissa did not return his look. She waited, hands folded in her lap, until everyone was finished, then gathered up the plates.

      “Would anyone like some peach cobbler?” She lifted a golden delicacy from the oven. “I have some ice cream to go with it.”

      Wade closed his eyes and breathed. Heaven help him! Peach cobbler was his favorite dessert. And no one had ever made it better than his sister. The words brought back fond memories of their times together on the reservation when they’d had to depend on each other for companionship. They’d picked peaches one year and earned enough money to buy bikes. They’d also taken home cases and cases of the ripened peaches, until his mother had begged them to stop.

      How had Clarissa found out?

      Wade jerked up his head to study her, his eyes narrowed as he tried to search out some hint that she’d known about his past. But Clarissa simply stared at him with that bland smile, holding out a dish, ice cream melting on top, as she waited patiently for his response.

      “Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured when he didn’t take it. “Perhaps you’d rather have something else? I know some people don’t care for peaches.”

      “I’ll try it,” Wade managed to say and took the dish from her hand. “Thank you.”

      “You’re quite welcome. Coffee?”

      Wade tried three helpings of the dessert, and by then he knew that he’d done the right thing in deciding to propose to her. A man didn’t find a woman like Clarissa Cartwright every day, not one who made peach cobbler that melted in your mouth, or one who could dissect a frog without wincing. There sure weren’t many women who’d calmly take in five people, feed, shelter and care for them as if it weren’t a stitch out of the usual routine.

      He’d better hang on to her before somebody else beat him to the punch. After all, hadn’t she been praying to get married the day he’d met her? Wade was pretty sure he wasn’t an answer to prayer, but she would get her family. That ought to make a difference.

      “We’ll do the dishes, Clarissa. You and Uncle Wade go have coffee on the veranda,” Tildy ordered. “I’m sure you have things to talk about.”

      Wade noticed a sparkle in her eye that hadn’t been there before. Had his niece figured out what he was going to do? If she had, Wade dearly hoped she’d shut up about it until he got everything arranged.

      Would Clarissa agree to his preposterous scheme?

      He helped the thin, silent woman into the big woven willow chair, handed her a cup of well-creamed coffee, then took his own seat. He set down his mug and faced her.

      “Clarissa?”

      “Yes?” She calmly sipped her drink, her eyes on the blooming apple tree in the garden outside.

      Wade felt his temperature begin to rise at her obvious disinterest in what he was saying. For the kids, he reminded himself as he licked a crumb of peach cobbler off the edge of his lip. He was doing this for the kids.

      “Would you marry me?”

      “Oh, I don’t think so.” She said it so matter-of-factly, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

      “What? Why not?” he demanded.

      “Because you only want someone to look after the kids until you can get things straight with Rita. We can do that without getting married.” She avoided his eyes, peering up into the sky instead. “You don’t have to marry me to get my help. I’ve already offered a number of times. Remember?”

      Wade flushed. He’d been rude with his refusal, and he’d hurt her feelings. Besides, what woman wanted to be proposed to like that? He could at least make this part of it special. He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut as she spoke.

      “Don’t worry about it, Wade. It will all work out. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. You just have to trust God to handle these things.”

      He took a deep breath, hating the idea of spilling his guts, but knowing he was going to have to open up a little, let her inside. He hated that, hated feeling exposed and vulnerable to anyone. It only made it easier to see how many mistakes he’d made.

      So why did he have this strange feeling that he could count on this woman?

      “I do trust God, but I am also worried, Clarissa. I made a pact with my sister. Before she died, I promised I would take care of her kids, that I’d keep them together, raise them as my own. I vowed that I wouldn’t let them get into the trouble I’ve had.” He gulped. “So far, I’m doing a lousy job.”

      “I think you’re doing very well.” Clarissa motioned toward his house. “That was just an accident. I’m sure Rita will come to understand that. In time.”

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