Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby. Lois Richer
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the hardcover tumbled to the floor.
It was a good thing the kindergarten class wasn’t here to see this. Her cast-iron rule about respecting books would be open to criticism by those curious five-year-olds.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured when he handed it back.
“It’s okay. Actually, I should have been clearer. I’m looking for something that would show some birds native to the area. Pierce is doing a project for school.”
He tossed back his hair, raking through it with one hand. Clarissa caught the fresh clean scent of soap and smiled. She liked a man who didn’t pour overpowering cologne all over himself.
You have no business liking this one, her conscience reminded. He’s married. With a son.
“Feel free to look through any of these then. Maybe you’ll find something you like.”
She stepped back, indicating the shelf. When he bent to peer at the titles without answering her, Clarissa decided his actions spoke louder than words. He hadn’t even noticed her. And why would he? Nobody noticed Clarissa. She’d become a fixture around here.
Why, I doubt anyone even noticed I’ve been gone, she told herself sternly. It wasn’t as if she had a tan to show for her vacation in Hawaii. Her skin was too fair to do anything but burn an ugly beet red that peeled in the most unbecoming way, and she’d prevented that with liberal amounts of sunblock.
Turning with a sigh, she walked slowly back up to her desk and began tallying the column titled “Lent for the Day.”
“I’ll take these. If you don’t mind, that is. I don’t have a card.” He held out four of the biggest books hesitantly. “Is that too many?”
“Certainly not. And I can make a card up for you right now. Name please?” She smiled and pulled an application form over, her pen poised to record the necessary statistics.
“Wade Featherhawk. Box 692. Telephone…”
He listed the information rapidly. Clarissa had to write quickly to get it all down.
“Good.” She picked up the card and leaflet and handed them over. “The books are due in two weeks. The library hours are posted inside the leaflet, but you can always slip the books through the slot if it’s after hours. By the way, I’m Clarissa Cartwright.” She held out her hand.
Stark, utter silence greeted her announcement. The brown-black eyes that twinkled mere moments ago now frosted over. His hand, halfway up, dropped back down by his side.
“Oh.” He took the books from her carefully, making sure that their fingers had no contact. “I, uh, I should probably tell you right off that I’m not interested.”
“I beg your pardon?” Clarissa frowned, glancing at the clock. She was two minutes late closing. Hm, according to Hawaii time, that was…
“I’m not looking for a wife.” The blunt-edged words came from lips stretched in a thin line of animosity. “I can handle the kids myself. I don’t need somebody tagging around after me, nagging me to do this or that. I can manage my life just fine.”
Clarissa froze. Surely he hadn’t heard her praying? Her face heated at the worried look in his eye. She licked her lips and stuttered out a response.
“I—I d-don’t know what you mean. I have never—”
“Look, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that Norman Paisley told me about you being single and all. Then Mrs. Nettles expounded on your assets as the perfect wife. After that a lady I’ve never met before told me how great you are at caring for people. In fact, that’s all I’ve heard for the past week.”
He didn’t sound exactly thrilled with what he learned either, Clarissa decided grimly.
She shook with the sheer humiliation of it. They were trying to marry her off again! And to the first available man who stepped into town. The heat of embarrassment clawed up her neck and flooded her face. Desperately she searched for composure while praying that he hadn’t heard her prayer.
“I’m so sorry!” She flushed again at his disparaging look and searched for the shortest possible explanation. “I was orphaned when I was young. My parents worked overseas, and I was too much of a burden. My Gran raised me. Along with half the town. They feel responsible, sort of a community of adopted parents. They’re kind of…well, rather like a big, nosy family.” Clarissa gulped, knowing she was babbling, but unable to stop.
“I’ve been away, you see. On vacation. I didn’t realize…”
She made herself stop at the less than spellbound look on his face. It was obvious he couldn’t care less. He shifted from one foot to the other in patent disinterest, politely waiting for her to stop speaking.
“Well, I just wanted to warn you that I’m not in the market.” His lips pinched tight as he glared at her. It was obvious that he hated having to spell it out.
Only when she peered into his eyes did Clarissa catch a hint of the suspicion in his eyes. Wariness. As if he were waiting. But for what? Clarissa mustered her composure, straightened her spine and smiled cooly.
“I’m sorry you felt you had to defend yourself, Mr. Featherhawk. I’ve lived here all of my life, and the people here tend to think of me as their responsibility. Rest assured, I have no intention of chasing you. In spite of what they told you, I don’t need a husband that badly.”
“Sorry. My mistake.” He frowned as if he didn’t quite believe her, but was prepared to accept it just the same. “No problem.”
The odd look he cast over her made her wonder if he hadn’t heard every word of her desperately uttered prayer, but Clarissa refused to speculate. It was done. She couldn’t change anything. Far better to keep her pride intact and pretend nothing untoward had happened here this afternoon. There would be time enough to cry over spilled milk later, at home, alone.
“The library will be closing in just a few minutes. Is there anything else I can help you with?” She kept her friendly smile in place through sheer perversity, merely nodding when he shook his head. “Fine. Have a good day.”
“You, too,” he mumbled before striding across the room and out the door.
As the heavy oak banged shut behind him, Clarissa heaved a sigh of relief mingled with regret. He was so handsome!
“Okay, God. I get the message. You’re in control. You’ll decide when and if I should get married, let alone be a mother.” She closed and locked the fine drawer, which never held more than three dollars anyway, placed her pen in the holder and pushed her chair neatly behind the big desk.
“It’s in Your hands,” she acquiesced with a sigh. “But I’m not getting any younger. I hope You keep in mind that I’m no spring chicken, and I would like to enjoy my kids while I’m still young enough to keep up with them. If I get kids, that is.”
Since there was no audible reply, or any other sign from above, Clarissa picked up the sweater she’d worn this morning, grabbed her handbag and her empty lunch sack and walked out of the musty building. It took only a second to lock the solid worn door.
Clarissa trod down the steps carefully, grateful for the fresh late-afternoon breeze that still blew. She needed a little air after her first day back at work.
A busy little town that drew on the agricultural industry surrounding it, Waseka hummed with early springtime activity. The place was so small that everybody knew everybody else, and their business. Which was part of Clarissa’s problem, but also part of the reason she loved it here.
It meant that they all knew how Harrison Harder had abandoned her the day before her wedding, to marry that city upstart who’d only been back in town for three weeks and claimed to be Clarissa’s best friend. Today the reminder of his defection only made her smile.
Harrison Harder! The same man who’d trailed after her since seventh