Tess patted the quilt. "Sit down."
The girl sidled to the bed and perched like a frightened bird on its very edge, her gaze glued to the fascinating floorboards between her feet. "Yeah?"
Tess wet her lips. "Well, I was wondering what your ma?I mean, what / do all day."
That got Savannah's attention. She actually looked at Tess. "Do?"
Tess frowned. "I must do something."
Savannah shrugged. "Well, you embroider a lot."
"Embroider ... How exciting that must be."
"You read a lot o' them genteel books."
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"Don't I do anything outside?" she asked hopefully. "Like gardening?"
It was Savannah's turn to frown. "Well ..." the word was drawn out, as if she were really searching. "Sometimes you set on the porch swing and sip lemonade."
Tess sighed. "In other words, you're the real mama in this family. I'm just a ... lady."
"A southern lady," Savannah corrected quickly. "You always say that's a right important thing to be."
"Do I? How magnanimous of me."
Savannah's eyes bulged at Tess's use of the word "magnanimous." She popped to her feet. "I gotta go wash the dishes."
"Just one more question," Tess promised.
"All right," Savannah said without turning around.
"What time do you get home from school?"
" 'Bout three-thirty or four. Unless it's rainin', then the walk takes longer."
"And then you cook dinner and clean the house and put Katie to bed. Thanks, Savannah. For everything."
"Sure." Before the word was out of her mouth, Savannah was gone.
Tess smiled. Now she had a place to start. Someone had to help that poor, overworked kid.
Tomorrow-?heaven help them all?the new-and-improved Amarylis was coming out.
The next morning, Tess finished nursing Caleb and gently put him back into his cradle. She waited a moment to make sure he wasn't going to wake up, then she flung the heavy flannel wrapper around her shoulders and tiptoed to the window. Outside, the farm lay shrouded in darkness. Only the barest hint of gold along the horizon heralded the approaching dawn.
Tess smiled with satisfaction. All she had to do was get
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to the barn without being heard, and she could put her plan into action.
She left her bedroom and crept soundlessly down the hallway, her fingertips trailing lightly along the rough wooden walls. With every step her heartbeat increased, her breathing quickened.
At the living room, she poked her head around the corner and scanned the darkness for Jack. He was a series of black humps against the slightly less dark sofa. The quiet, even strains of his breathing filtered through the shadowy room.
Tess released her breath. She was okay. She bent her head down and hurried through the darkened house, closing the kitchen door silently behind her. She raced across the dew-dampened grass toward the barn and eased the huge wooden door open. By the time she'd found a lantern, matches, and the milking stool, dawn was slanting through the cracks in the barn's plank walls in streaks of pinkish gold.
"Mooo." Bessie's angry bellow echoed through the still, cold air.
Tess jumped. Her fingers spasmed reflexively around the milk can's thin metal handle.
"It's okay, Bessie," she said hesitantly, "I'm here to milk you."
Bessie swung her big brown head around and stared at Tess.
Tess moved cautiously forward, placing the milk can down between the cow's back legs. Then she put down the stool, yanked up her heavy nightgown, and planted herself on the hard wooden surface.
Bessie's hugely swollen udder filled her vision.
Tess grimaced sickly, and instinctively clamped a hand over her own bulging breasts. "Okay, Bessie, here we go."
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She gently plucked at the teat with her forefinger and thumb. The pink appendage bobbed uselessly.
Clearly this was not the best approach.
She tried again, this time grabbing hold of the teat and yanking hard.
Bessie mooed loudly and swung her head around. Long-lashed brown eyes stared unblinkingly at Tess.
Tess smiled weakly. "Not quite right, huh? How about this?" She tried again, a bit more gently.
Bessie smacked Tess in the face with her tail.
"Mama?"
Tess swiveled in her seat and saw Savannah standing just inside the barn door. "Savannah!" Tess cried. "I'm so glad you're here. Milking isn't quite as ... instinctive as I'd thought it would be."
Savannah's mouth dropped open. "Mama, you never?"
"Ah, never say never. Here?" she got to her feet "?have a seat and show me what to do. I've decided to become an active member of this family. And that means doing chores."
Savannah gave her mother a wary are-you-an-ax-murderer look. "Th-Thanks, Mama."
Tess bit back a smile as the girl sidled past her. When Savannah sat down on the stool, Tess scooted over and kneeled beside her. "What do you do first?"
Savannah curled her fingers around one of the teats, then squeezed once and pulled hard. A stream of milk shot from the teat and hit the empty bucket with a ringing sound. Steam spiraled upward, bringing with it the humid scent of fresh cream.
"How did you do that?"
"Here, watch." Savannah did it again. "Squeeze, pull, let go."
Milk squirted from two of Bessie's teats. The rapid-fire
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squirt-ping-splash of each stream hitting the bucket sang out in the quiet barn.
Tess lifted her gaze from the milk and studied Savannah, who was staring intently into the bucket, her lips drawn into a thin, colorless line.
Tess eased a straggly lock of hair from Savannah's face.
"You've tried to keep this family together, haven't you?"
"Family? Ha." Savannah said the words harshly, then
realized what she'd said. She paled. "Oh, I didn't mean?"
"Shh, it's okay," Tess murmured. "It's not much of a
family, from what I can see."
Savannah's shoulders sagged, her head bowed. Tears sparkled in her eyes but didn't slip past her lashes.
The girl's silent misery twisted Tess's heart. No one knew better than she what it felt like to grow up alone, without a mother to lean on or turn to. From the day of her mother's death until now, this very second, Tess had carried inside her soul a tiny, nagging ache. A void.
It was, she knew, the same void that pulled the color
from Savannah's cheeks and stole the smile from her lips.
You've always been a healer, Tess. The words came
back to Tess, and she realized the truth in them. She had
to help this poor, frightened girl.
She tried to find something to say, anything, that would be a start. "I?I know I'm your mother on the outside, and you don't trust me, but on the inside I've ... changed." Savannah didn't bother to look at her. "What do you mean?"
"I'm ashamed of the way I've treated you and Katie and Daddy."
Savannah went so still, she seemed to stop breathing. She turned slightly, staring at Tess through huge blue eyes. "Really?"
The single, softly spoken word revealed a spark of hope, buried deep inside a mountain of mistrust. Tess could see
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how desperately Savannah wanted to believe. Wanted to but couldn't?not yet.
"I'll tell you what," Tess said. "I'll make you a deal."
"What?"
"You teach me to be a mother?you know, cooking, cleaning, stuff like that?and I'll teach you and Katie to have fun."
Savannah regarded her warily. "We already know how to have fun."
"I don't think so."
"Besides, you're already a mother."
"Not much of one, from what I can tell. But I'd like to change that. Will you help me?"
Savannah studied her for a long, silent moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Sure, Mama."
Tess grinned. "Th
anks, honey. I won't let you down."
Tess carried the heavy bucket full of steaming milk toward the house. Dawn was just breaking across the rolling, rocky pasture and filling the gray sky with streaks of pink and purple. Sheep were scattered through the fields like puffy clumps of dark cotton.
She paused and looked around. The small farm lay shrouded in semidarkness, but she could see how well the place was tended. The fences were straight and strong, the house was nice and white. Everything was in perfect repair. But there were no loving touches. No flowers lining the walk or curling around the base of the oak tree, no flower boxes along the porch. No wind chimes hanging from the overhang. There was only a scrawny, half-dead wild rose that twined around the porch rail and crept up the post.
She set the bucket down. It hit the rocky dirt road with a sloshing clank, spilling warm liquid across Tess's bare feet. Turning, she glanced back at the barn and thought
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about her talk with Savannah. It had gone well. Talking was just a little thing, a gentle movement forward, but it was something. A beginning.
Tess thought about her own lonely childhood, about how much it would have meant for someone to take a moment to reach out to her. She'd been so starved for acceptance and affection that even a simple little thing like a smile would have meant so much. Somehow, she was certain that life was similar for Savannah. The girl was afraid to believe in Tess because her mother had obviously ignored her for a very long time, but through the fear was a kernel of hope. A wish and a prayer.
For the first time since waking up in this century, Tess felt a sense of purpose and a stirring of hope. A shadow of her old zeal came back. She could help these people. Ease their tired hearts and make them laugh. And maybe she could bring a little laughter into her own soul at the same time.
She'd known the moment she'd seen Jack that he needed someone desperately. The pain in his eyes had drawn her; the pain and something more. She hadn't known what it was then, but now she understood. She'd been drawn by a sadness she understood all too well. The aching loneliness of someone who longs to be part of a family and can't quite fit in.
No wonder she'd been drawn like a moth to the flame of his heartache. They were kindred spirits, people on the fringe of happiness. Close enough to touch it, yet too frightened to reach out, too afraid of rejection to step up and say, "I want."
But no more. She and Jack and these children were connected now. A family. And they all needed one another. All she needed now was a plan. She bit her lower lip and frowned, trying to analyze the situation. She had to look at this family as a long-term project. She wouldn't
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solve it all at once, wouldn't heal a lifetime's worth of wounds with a single bandage, but she was used to that. She'd spent ten years of her life in cancer research?the first four had been spent isolating a single cell. Yes, if there was one thing Tess had, it was patience.
She thought about Jack and smiled. If there was one thing she'd need in dealing with him, it was patience.
By the time the girls had left for school, Tess was beginning to think she'd been a tad optimistic. Cancer seemed like a bump in the road compared to the ills in the Rafferty family.
Breakfast had been a horrible affair. She'd been so flabbergasted by the tension in the family that she hadn't been able to offer anyone more than a wobbling, tentative smile. And that had only served to make everyone jumpier.
They didn't even eat together. Katie sat at the table? alone?pushing her food around with her fork and rarely taking a bite. The whining squeak of tin on crockery rang in the too quiet room like fingernails on a chalkboard. Savannah stood at the sink, wolfing down her food without ever speaking or making eye contact with anyone. And Jack.
She sighed. Jack. He hadn't even remained in the house. He'd eaten out on the porch.
The whole ordeal had lasted less than ten minutes. Tess had been just gearing up to say something?although she hadn't figured out what?when Jack rammed his dishes in the sink and disappeared. The girls gulped down the rest of their food, shoved the dishes in a bucket of water, and followed him out.
Tess had been left alone, stunned into silence by the show.
It had been almost an hour since they'd left the house,
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and she still hadn't moved. She sat at the kitchen table, her elbows planted on the hard wood in front of her. A cup of strong, bitter coffee was between her elbows.
Tess plopped her chin in her hand and let out a sigh. She couldn't help it. She was ... lonely. The house was depressingly quiet.
At least at the foster homes, people had talked to her. This morning with Savannah had just served to reinforce how isolated she was here. How alone.
Suddenly Jack burst into the room. He saw her and stopped dead. The door banged shut behind him.
"Amarylis!"
Tess felt a flood of relief at simply seeing another person. She grinned up at him. "Hi."
He glanced uncomfortably out the window. For a moment she thought he might jump. "I guess I'd best get going?"
"Wait." She lurched to her feet. "Have a cup of coffee with me. We could talk."
His eyes bulged. He stared at her as if she were deranged. "I don't think so."
"Okay, I'll talk. You can sort of ... grunt and nod."
"Christ," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Jack, I can't just sit all day. I have to do something. But I can't ... remember much about farm work."
He strode into the living room and snatched up a pretty little basket. "Here," he said, shoving it at her.
Tess lifted the lid and saw a bunch of cotton and thread. "Embroidery. How ... stimulating."
He glared at her. "You never wanted to be stimulated before."
An entirely inappropriate twentieth-century retort popped into Tess's head. She grinned.
"What's so goddamn funny?" he hissed.
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Tess tried to rein in her smile, with limited success.
"Nothing. Really."
He eyed her warily. "Amarylis, do whatever you want.
Just stay the hell out of my way."
Chapter Six
Do whatever you want.
Tess thought about it. What did she want to do?
She wanted to turn these four dysfunctional, frightened people into a family. As stupid and Snow White-ish as it sounded, she just wanted everyone to be happy. It was up to her to be the beginning. She had to start being an honest-to-God mother, then maybe they'd become a family around her.
"Okay," she said, taking a sip of coffee, "how?"
What did mothers do? Unfortunately, the question answered itself. Cooking, cleaning, laundering, scrubbing.
"Yuck." No wonder she'd always hated those movies about pioneer wives. While the men were out herdin' do-gies and riding the range, the women were home cleaning floors and making butter.
She set her cup down and stood up. Unpleasant tasks, she knew, were a part of life, and ignoring them didn't make them go away. If Tess wanted to be the center of this family, she had to get started. Somehow she had to figure out how to be the perfect pioneer woman.
Getting dressed was probably a good start, she decided. Donna Reed never spent the day in her nightgown.
She went to the bedroom and checked on Caleb, who was asleep.
Then she opened the armoire and chose a waistless, 67
68
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scoop-necked gingham nursing gown. Dressing quickly, she tied on a wrinkled white apron, rolled up her sleeves, braided her hair, and went to work.
Four hours later, Tess crawled into the last corner of the kitchen. Dragging the bucket of soapy water behind her, she scrubbed the dirty floor and dried it with her now filthy towel. Then she applied the last bit of the beeswax furniture paste she'd found and polished the boards until they gleamed like bright new pennies.
Sitting back on her heels, she dropped the rag in the water and let out her breath in a deep,
satisfied sigh. The house was clean. She grabbed the chairback and got tiredly to her feet, pressing a fist to her aching back as she surveyed her handiwork.
Beneath her feet, the floor was a panel of richly polished oak. The table, its imperfections concealed by a stark white tablecloth, was a profusion of early spring flowers. On the dresser's long, open shelves, the blue earthenware plates, tin coffeepot, and crockery jugs sparkled like new. Even the stove, now soot- and grease-free, looked as if it belonged in Country Home magazine. A fire burned low behind the iron-barred grate, glowing orange-red and sending off fingers of woodsmoke-scented heat.
Outside, heavy footsteps pounded up the porch steps. A second later, Jack broke through the kitchen door at a run.
A comical look of disbelief crossed his face as his heels skidded across the slick floor and whooshed out from underneath him. He hit the floor like a ton of bricks.
Tess gasped. "Are you all right?"
"What the hell?"
Her lips twitched. "Maybe I shouldn't have waxed the floor."
Jack shook his head. "If you're trying to kill me, how about using a less painful method?"
Tess smiled down at him and offered a hand.
Ignoring her, he grabbed hold of the chair and hauled himself to his feet. He looked around, noticing the kitchen for the first time. The customary scowl settled on his face.
"I suppose it's too clean?" Tess said.
"What the hell are you doing? You know goddamn well?"
She winced at the loudness of his voice. "Oh, for God's sake, Jack. Shut up."
He was stunned into speechlessness. "What?" "Your attitude sucks." "What?"
"I've got plans for this family?big plans. But frankly, I can't do squat if you're going to be running around yelling at me all the time. So we'd better come to an understanding." He laughed.
"Laugh all you want, just listen." He crossed his arms across his chest and studied her through slitted, uncompromising eyes. But he didn't leave. That was something, at least.
She curled her fingers around the chairback and stared at him. "Does the word 'reincarnation' mean anything to you?" "No."
She frowned. "Well, some people think that after death, a soul can ... go on. You know, change bodies and get another life. Some of these people believe that time doesn't really exist, that everything?past, present, and future?is actually happening now. You believe that?" "No."