In a Mother’s Arms Read online

  “Of course.”

  “Here’s the plan.” He spoke with deliberate authority. If Cassie reacted like most mothers, she’d cringe at what he had to say. “Luke spends tonight in jail.”

  “Jail!”

  “That’s right,” he insisted. “Locked behind bars with nothing to do but think.”

  “But—”

  “He needs a taste of the future he’s chosen.”

  Cassie’s breath whooshed from her chest. “But he’s so young—”

  “He’s old enough to break windows,” Gabe said dryly. “My deputy usually stays the night when we have a prisoner, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll stay myself.”

  Her eyes clouded. “I just don’t know—”

  “Cassie.” Her name slipped out unbidden. “Luke isn’t a boy anymore. The more you baby him, the angrier he’s going to get. If he wants to play rough, fine. We’ll play rough.”

  Her brows snapped together. “What do you mean by rough?”

  The question irked him. “Nothing physical. You know that.”

  “I do.” She twisted the hankie. “I just wish—”

  “Don’t waste your breath.” He didn’t want to go down any road that led to the past. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, so there’s no school. I’ll have him apologize to Reverend Hall, then we’ll fix the window. I’ll show him how, but he’s going to do the work himself.”

  She looked resigned. “I should pay for the glass.”

  “I’ll get it from the hardware. Luke can do chores around the church to pay me back.”

  Her eyes filled with relief. “How can I ever thank you?”

  By telling me why you left. Except he didn’t want to know. “I’ll tell Luke he’s been sentenced to a night in jail, fixing the window and chores, but there’s something important you have to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stay away from the jail. Don’t bring him supper or even his school books. Nothing. Do you understand?”

  She looked miserable. “He’s growing like a weed. He’ll be hungry.”

  “I’ll see that he eats.” He’d get meat loaf at Millie’s. Dessert, too. If Luke behaved, he’d eat like a king. If he didn’t, he’d miss out on the best chocolate cake in town. “Don’t interfere, Cassie. It’s called jail for a reason.”

  When she nodded with understanding, he wondered what jails had held her. Those places might not have had bars, but he felt certain they’d been dark and cold.

  He indicated the building. “I better get back.”

  As they left the grass, Cassie walked at his side. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to put his hand against her back to guide her. Instead he kept his arms loose at his sides…loose and ready, though he didn’t know for what.

  Chapter Two

  Cassie walked the four blocks to Higgins Mercantile with her head high, but the effort made her neck ache. People stared as she passed, but no one smiled or said hello. She knew why. She just didn’t know what to do about it. Maude Drake, an old rival, had been spreading rumors. Cassie had her faults, but she didn’t cheat her customers. Neither had she lived in sin with Luke’s father as Maude had implied.

  The thought made her furious. She’d been innocent when she’d married Ryan O’Rourke. Stupid, too. She’d confused charm with character, a mistake she’d never repeat. Gabe had both. Once she’d seen his reasoning, leaving Luke in his care didn’t worry her at all. Her reluctance came from a sense of debt. She already owed him amends for jilting him. Today, when she’d broken down, she’d tried to apologize but he’d cut her off. How could she put the past behind her when it weighed on her every thought?

  Sighing, she unlocked the front door of her shop. When she’d first arrived, the display areas had been full of the same clutter she recalled from her childhood. She’d moved it to a storeroom and written to the merchandiser at Russell’s Department Store in Chicago, the place she’d worked as a bookkeeper. The buyer for Russell’s had been enthused about her venture and had approached Jacob Russell himself. The end result had been a business arrangement where Cassie sold Russell goods on consignment. If she succeeded, she and Luke could live comfortably.

  Looking at the displays—pretty dishes, shiny cookware—she had dark visions of having to return it unsold. She’d had two customers in a week, but only if she counted both Pastor Hall and Thelma, his wife. Out of habit, Cassie looked at the window where her father had put a chalkboard showing the time he’d be back whenever he left the store. With business so slow, she hadn’t thought to put it up. She ached to go upstairs to her apartment, but instead she took a feather duster from behind the counter and headed for a display of thimbles.

  As she swished the ostrich feathers, the doorbell jingled. She looked up and saw Thelma. The minister’s wife had been like a sister to Cassie’s mother. When Bonnie Higgins had died of apoplexy, Thelma had taken Cassie under her wing.

  The older woman paused at the dish display. “These are beautiful.”

  Cassie loved the fine china. With only Luke at her table, she couldn’t justify buying a set for herself, but she sometimes closed her eyes and imagined a table set for the husband and children she’d never have.

  “They’re practical and pretty,” Thelma added. “If the women in this town had a lick of sense, they’d ignore Maude and look for themselves.”

  “I wish they would.” Cassie gave the shelf a last flick with the ostrich feathers, then faced Thelma. “I’m sorry about the church window.”

  “Of course, you are.”

  “Luke will make it right, I promise.”

  Thelma’s lips curved into a sad smile. “It’s not easy being a mother, is it?”

  “No.” Cassie choked up. To hide her eyes, she went back to dusting.

  Thelma came to her side. “I know you love your boy, Cassie. Deep down, he knows it, too.”

  With anyone else, she could have managed a brazen lift of her head. With Thelma, she could only be herself. “I’m so ashamed.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” The minister’s wife put iron in her voice. “You’re doing your best.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cassie continued. “He knows what he’s doing is wrong.”

  Thelma squeezed Cassie’s shoulders as if she were little again. “You’re not alone, sweetie. There’s not a mother in the world who hasn’t lost sleep over a child. I hear the boy’s spending the night with Gabe.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’ll be good for him,” Thelma said. “Now we need to take care of you. Let’s go to Millie’s for tea.”

  Cassie nearly wept at the thought. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her a meal or poured her a cup of something hot. She steeped her own tea with the cheapest leaves, but it usually went cold while she did other things. The idea of sitting at a table and being served touched her to the core, but she saw a problem.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Millie and Maude are friends.”

  Thelma got a glint in her eye. “Never mind them. I want tea and you need it.”

  She also needed to talk. Seeing Gabe—speaking with him—had filled her with questions. Why hadn’t he married? Was he happy? When she’d come home, she’d expected to find him with a wife and children. Instead she’d found a bachelor living in the house meant for her.

  “Tea sounds good,” Cassie replied.

  She left the feather duster on the shelf, followed Thelma out the door and locked it behind her. Like before, she left the chalkboard blank. As they walked to the café, they passed a dozen people who’d been her father’s customers. Most of them had been in the church when she’d jilted Gabe. She forced a few smiles but gave up after the third cold stare. Thelma greeted every person they met. A few remarked on the weather, but no one treated Cassie with warmth. As much as she wanted a cup of tea, she wished she’d stayed in the store. That feeling doubled when they walked into Millie’s Café and Thelma made a beeline for a table in the front window.

 
; “Let’s sit in the back,” Cassie said.

  “Nonsense,” Thelma answered. “It’s a lovely day and you need the sun.”

  “But, Thelma—”

  “Cassie, trust me. People need to see you.”

  But Cassie didn’t want to be seen. She’d had enough hard looks today, but how could she say no to Thelma? By taking Cassie for tea, the minister’s wife was waving a banner of love for the world to see. Determined to be worthy of the kindness, Cassie sat in the chair facing the door. She’d smile at everyone who walked by her.

  When the waitress approached, Thelma ordered tea and a tray of petit fours. Cassie’s mouth watered. Millie could be mean, but she knew how to bake.

  “Now,” Thelma said with an arch of her brow. “Tell me about the past fourteen years.”

  Cassie had visited with Thelma twice since coming home, but she’d been vague about her life in Chicago. She gave a rueful smile. “That would take all day.”

  “Then start with Luke,” the older woman said softly. “Where’s his father?”

  Cassie blinked and recalled the night she’d left Ryan O’Rourke. He’d come home drunk and smelling of perfume. When she’d protested, he’d struck her. She’d fallen and hit her head. Barely conscious, she’d seen him heading for Luke’s room and had cried out. The distraction had worked and Ryan had beaten her instead. Hours later, when he’d passed out drunk, she’d packed one bag and left with Luke in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the first time Ryan had struck her, but it was the last. The next morning she’d hired an attorney and petitioned for divorce.

  “It’s an ugly story.” She lowered her eyes. “Ryan turned violent. I left him for my sake but mostly for Luke’s.”

  Thelma’s mouth thinned to a line. “You did the right thing.”

  “I hope so, but Luke doesn’t understand.” Cassie felt a headache coming on. “We divorced seven years ago. Luke’s never had a father and he blames me.”

  The waitress brought the tea and two pretty cups. Thelma filled the first one for Cassie, laced it with sugar and handed it to her. “You’re strong, Cassie. Your mother would be proud.”

  As Cassie raised the cup to her lips, she thought of mornings she’d sat at the breakfast table, drinking tea with her mother after her father had gone to the store. She’d been Luke’s age when Bonnie Higgins fainted in the kitchen and died a day later. Cassie had been too young to know her mother as a woman. Now, as a woman herself, she missed her more than ever.

  “I don’t know,” Cassie said as she pondered Thelma’s question. “What would she say?”

  “She’d tell you to hold your head high.” The older woman sounded sure. “She’d also love Luke to pieces and spoil him rotten.”

  Cassie could see it. “She’d have read him Bible stories at bedtime.”

  Thelma smiled. “Boys like the ones about Pharaoh and frogs falling from the sky.”

  Cassie made a face. “Not me.”

  “You would if you heard Gabe tell it.”

  At the mention of his name, Cassie curled her fingers around the warm porcelain and thought about the day she’d clapped eyes on the handsome new sheriff. He’d come to town from Texas, a former cavalry officer and a bachelor to boot. They’d met at her father’s store and she’d been smitten. She’d also been seventeen, practically a child. She’d loved him, but she had wanted to wait to get married. Her father—and Gabe—didn’t see the point. Shuddering she recalled the night before her wedding. She’d been a wreck. Then her father had brought the journal written by her mother…

  “Cassie?”

  She looked up and saw a tray of petit fours. Thelma put a bite of cake with white frosting on a plate and handed it to her. “You looked a hundred miles away.”

  “More like fourteen years.” She lifted her fork. “Gabe never married, did he?”

  “No.”

  Cassie feared the answer, but she had to ask. “I wonder why.”

  Thelma’s brows lifted. “Until now, I figured he hadn’t met the right woman.”

  Until now… To avoid the trail of Thelma’s thoughts, Cassie took a bite of cake. Their wedding cake would have tasted exactly like the frosting melting in her mouth. Millie had already baked it and friends had left gifts at the house Gabe had built for her. She knew from the one angry letter from her father that Gabe had returned each one personally. No wonder he’d never married…she’d hurt him that deeply.

  She wished she hadn’t gone down this road, but she couldn’t turn around. Thelma was watching her like a hawk.

  The older woman put down her fork. “Do you know what I think now?”

  She couldn’t bear the memories. “No, and I don’t—”

  Leaning closer, Thelma whispered so that only Cassie would hear. “I think Gabe’s been waiting for you.”

  “Don’t say that, Thelma.”

  “He loved you, Cassie. I know him. He’s loyal.”

  “But I hurt him terribly.”

  “You were a scared, motherless girl,” she said gently. “How old were you? Seventeen?”

  “Old enough to know better.” Cassie set down the fork. Her tea had gone cold and the cake made her sad.

  “It was awful,” Thelma replied. “But Gabe doesn’t hold grudges. I saw his face when he learned Luke belonged to you. He seemed—”

  “Bitter?” Cassie said.

  “I was going to say tender.”

  He had been tender with her on the bench. He’d been wonderful with Luke, too. If he’d let her apologize, maybe they could be friends. But he’d slammed that door shut. She felt buried alive.

  “I don’t know what to do.” She felt trapped at the table, stuck to her chair. “I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen.”

  Thelma freshened Cassie’s tea, then her own. “That’s the problem with apologies. They’re hard to make and hard to accept.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “But I feel so guilty.”

  Before Thelma could reply, the door to the café swung open. In walked Maude Drake with her husband and son. William Drake owned the bank. Billy Drake had a new haircut and a smug gleam in his eyes. The meeting couldn’t have occurred at a worse time. Talk of Gabe had left Cassie reeling.

  Thelma turned to the Drakes. “Maude, William. It’s nice to see you. You remember Cassie, don’t you?”

  Bless her good intentions, but Thelma was out of her mind. Next to Gabe, Cassie had hurt Maude more than anyone in Guthrie Corners. They’d been the same age, competing for the same boys. Cassie had been a beauty and she’d flaunted it. Maude had a simple prettiness, but Cassie had called her “Mule Face.” For a while, the name had stuck. She’d have blurted an apology now, but she felt certain Maude would cause a scene.

  The Drakes gave Thelma a curt nod, exchanged quiet words and left the restaurant. Millie let out a loud sigh, put her hands on her hips and glared at Cassie. “What you did in Chicago ain’t none of my business, Cassie Higgins. But—”

  “It’s O’Rourke now,” Cassie said. “Mrs. O’Rourke.”

  Millie snorted. “It should have been Mrs. Wyatt! What you did to Gabe—”

  Thelma intervened. “Millie, stop it.”

  “And that boy of yours! He’s a brat.”

  Cassie pushed to her feet. “You can insult me all you want, but I will not tolerate you calling my son names.”

  “Fine,” Millie declared. “But whatever you do, keep him away from my café. Windows are expensive.”

  So the news had already spread. Cassie felt weak in the knees. Thelma stood and put an arm around her waist. “Both of you,” she said. “Shouting doesn’t help anyone.”

  “It helps me,” Millie declared. “Why that—”

  The door opened again. When Cassie saw Gabe, she thought she might be sick. Ashamed and trembling, she ran for the door.

  Twenty minutes later, Gabe set the picnic hamper on his work desk. It held covered dishes from Millie’s cafe, but what he wanted most—answers—didn’t fit in a wicker basket. Why
had Cassie run away at the sight of him? It was none of his business, but he’d smelled trouble the instant he’d opened the restaurant door. When he’d asked Thelma and Millie if anyone needed help, they’d clammed up. They’d also given him two distinct but familiar looks. Millie had given him the “poor Gabe” look. It usually came with whispering behind his back. Poor Gabe…Did you hear? That foolish girl jilted him!

  Thelma’s eyes had held pity, too. But she’d been focused on Cassie. When she’d turned to Gabe, he’d seen what he called the “Mama” look. That particular spark belonged to mothers of marriage-minded daughters. Thelma didn’t have a daughter of her own—she’d raised three boys—but she kept an eye out for the single women at Guthrie Corners Church. She’d given up on Gabe a long time ago, but today she’d looked inspired again.

  He refused to think about why. Neither did he want to think about Cassie fleeing the café with her face in a knot. She was none of his concern. Luke, on the other hand, needed his full attention. Tonight he’d get it.

  Gabe had left his deputy, Peter Hughes, filling out the daily journal while he fetched supper. He turned to the desk across from his bigger one. “Go on home, Pete.”

  The young man shoved to his feet. “Don’t mind if I do. The wife’s making chicken and dumplings.”

  A newlywed, Pete bragged every day about his wife’s cooking. He’d invited Gabe for supper a few times, but those evenings had been tedious. Married couples, especially young ones that gawked at each other, reminded him of Cassie and the life he’d been denied.

  As Pete walked out the door, Gabe looked into the cell. He saw Luke on the cot on his back, still staring at the ceiling. Gabe had often thought of writing a message up there, maybe a Bible verse or just “Caught you looking.” He had a plan tonight. If Luke minded his manners, he’d get dessert. If he acted like a mule, he wouldn’t. Gabe wanted to make it easy for the boy to behave, so he used his friendliest tone.