The Hand-Me-Down Family. Winnie Griggs

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      Mrs. Mayweather stepped aside. “Now come on in to the parlor. You both look as if you could do with a cool glass of lemonade, and we have matters to discuss.”

      Callie nodded. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

      Jack removed his hat and followed the ladies inside.

      “You may set your hat on the hall table there, Jackson.” She turned to Callie. “Feel free to set your bonnet and handbag there as well.”

      He tensed in sympathy. What would Callie do? How would she handle this?

      Once again, she surprised him. Though she moved with a sort of deliberate slowness, her initial hesitation was so brief he doubted Mrs. Mayweather noted it.

      With steady hands, she loosened the strings to her bonnet and let it fall behind her head.

      Mrs. Mayweather studied her for a minute. “A birthmark, I presume?” At Callie’s nod, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed. I’m beginning to understand why Julia had such respect and admiration for you.”

      

      Callie was startled by the woman’s words and didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing. She pulled her bonnet back up, wondering exactly how much Julia had said about her and to whom.

      Mrs. Mayweather raised a hand to stop her. “No need to do that on my account.”

      Callie smiled, but firmly tied her ribbons. “Thank you, but I’d rather that not be the first view the children have of me.”

      “As you wish.” A slight nod accompanied the words. “But I think you would be surprised by how accepting children can be.”

      A few moments later, they were seated in the parlor and Mrs. Mayweather was pouring glasses of lemonade.

      “I know a man of the world such as yourself would probably prefer something stronger,” she said as Jack reached for his, “but I’m afraid you will have to make do with this for now.”

      “This will do just fine, thank you.” He took a long drink, then set the glass down. “So how are the young’uns doing?”

      Mrs. Mayweather’s face softened in concern and Callie saw a whole new side of her.

      “About as one would expect. They went through such a horrid experience. At least they didn’t have to witness the fire firsthand.”

      Callie sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She’d worried…

      “As it happens, Simon had taken Emma and Annabeth down to the livery,” Mrs. Mayweather continued briskly. “He wanted to show them a new foal that had been born the day before. When they heard the alarm, they headed back to the café. Luckily, the O’Connor sisters spotted them and had sense enough to keep them from going anywhere near the fire.”

      Callie saw past the woman’s businesslike tone. “And so you took them in.”

      Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “I had the room and the time to see to them, since school had let out for summer the week before.”

      Jack stood and moved to one of the windows. “Still, I’m very beholden,” he said without turning around.

      “I just thank the Lord I had the means to step in.” She refilled Callie’s glass. “But back to your question. The tragedy has affected each of them differently. Simon has turned from an active, outgoing boy to one who is belligerent and aloof.”

      She waved a hand. “Emma has always been a quiet child, but now she clings to Simon like bark to a tree. She can barely stand to have him out of her sight for more than a few minutes. Simon is taking his role of big brother seriously—too seriously, if you ask me. He insisted I set his cot in the room with the girls when Emma balked at separating from him even in sleep.”

      “And Annabeth?”

      Mrs. Mayweather sighed. “I’m not certain. Bless her, she was just beginning to move on from the loss of her mother, then this happened. She misses her father terribly, of course. But the child, who’s normally quite the little chatterbox, has barely said a word since the accident, except in answer to a direct question.”

      Callie twisted her hands nervously in her skirts. “Do you think she knows? About me, I mean.”

      Mrs. Mayweather gave her a sympathetic smile. “If so, she hasn’t given any sign. But, as I mentioned, she hasn’t said more than a handful of words since her father passed. Besides, even if Leland did say something to her, she may not have understood. She’s only four, after all.”

      Jack turned to face them and crossed his arms. “It doesn’t matter whether she knows or not. Like I said, Annabeth is my concern now.”

      Callie carefully set her glass down, resisting the urge to retort in kind. Lord, give me patience. Please!

      She caught a measuring look Mrs. Mayweather gave the two of them.

      The woman stood. “Well, I can tell the children certainly won’t want for family willing to take them in. You two help yourselves to more lemonade while I let them know you’re here.”

      Jack’s expression gave nothing away, but she saw him rub the back of his neck. Was he as nervous about facing the children for the first time as she was?

      Moments later, Callie’s entire being focused on the sound of footsteps tromping down the stairs.

      Simon entered first, looking both ready to take on the world and achingly vulnerable at the same time. His sister, Emma, was close by his side, her arm wound tightly with his, her eyes wide and uncertain.

      But it was the third and youngest of the children that captured Callie’s attention. The little girl hung back a bit while still holding on to Emma’s other hand.

      Callie would have been able to pick Annabeth out of a ballroom full of little girls. She looked so much like Julia it made her heart ache. The same bouncy blond curls, the same bright blue eyes, the same pink bow of a mouth.

      Mrs. Mayweather spoke up first. “Children, remember I told you that your Uncle Jack would be coming?” She made a flourishing movement with her hand. “Well, here he is.”

      Then she gestured toward Callie. “And we also have a surprise visitor.”

      Annabeth stared at Callie with wide, questioning eyes. Was it possible the child was expecting her after all?

      Simon, however, seemed to be the designated spokesman for the trio. He completely ignored Callie as he gave Jack an assessing look. “So you’re our Uncle Jack.”

      Jack strode to the middle of the room. “That’s right. And I’ve come to take care of you.” He smiled at the two girls. “All of you.”

      None of the three returned Jack’s smile.

      “Momma talked about you some.” Simon’s tone hadn’t softened. “And she read your letters to us when they came.” His eyes narrowed. “It made her sad that you never came around.”

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