Mail-Order Miranda (Brides of Beckham) Page 7

  Even though Miranda seemed capable of taking care of the house and looking after the girls, Aunt Ruth still arrived every morning, her grim expression telling him she wasn’t pleased with whatever Miranda was doing. To Miranda’s credit, she hadn’t said a word whenever criticism came her way. In fact, she seemed to expect it, and let Aunt Ruth have her way.

  But something had to change. And soon. He knew that. He just didn’t know how to tell Aunt Ruth without hurting her feelings. She’d been a godsend when he’d needed her most, and he sure didn’t want her to feel as if he’d used her and now that he didn’t need her, he wanted rid of her.

  The tinkle of piano keys reached his ears through the open window as he opened the gate and walked up the path to the house. A lump formed in his throat as memories washed over him. Nancy had been an accomplished pianist, and he’d spent many evenings relaxing in an easy chair, reading while Nancy played.

  But those days were gone, and whoever was playing the piano had very little skill.

  Swallowing thickly, he opened the door and stepped inside, his heart lurching at the sight before him.

  Miranda was sitting on the piano bench, one of the girls on each side of her. Hope’s fingers were on the piano keys, and as Miranda pointed to a key, Hope pressed it. Miranda was smiling at her. And Hope was smiling back!

  He almost staggered from the force of emotion surging through him. He’d thought he’d never see a real smile on his little girl’s face again.

  “Papa!” Ellie climbed down from the bench and raced across the room, launching herself into his arms. “We was playing the piano,” she told him, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “I see that,” he replied.

  “Hope’s better than me though,” she went on, her smile fading. “I made more mistakes.”

  Miranda gave him a look that told him to be careful what he said in response.

  “I make lots of mistakes, too,” he said, bussing Ellie’s cheek. “And you know what? It doesn’t matter if you make mistakes. Do you like to play the piano?”

  Ellie nodded. “Yep.”

  “Then don’t worry about the mistakes. And maybe if you ask nicely, your mama will teach you more when she has time.”

  Ellie wriggled in John’s arms until she could face Miranda. “Will you? Pleeeeaaase?”

  Miranda grinned. “I’d love to.”

  John’s insides lurched with emotion.

  “What about you, Hope? Would you like to learn to play the piano more, too?” John asked.

  Hope nodded, a shy smile on her lips.

  In only a few days, Miranda had worked wonders with Hope. Another few days and maybe, just maybe, he’d have the daughters back that he thought he’d lost forever.

  Chapter Eight

  Over the next few days, life began to fall into a pattern. Miranda cooked breakfast every morning for John and the girls before he left for the diner. Every night, while John worked on the accounts for the diner, Miranda either played games with the girls, taught them to play the piano or read to them. And when she and John went to bed, he kissed her goodnight.

  Miranda was almost happy. She loved the girls like she’d given them life, and she was falling more and more in love with John every day. Other than the physical part of marriage, he was everything a woman could ask for – kind, considerate, generous. He worked hard, laughed easily and seemed to be happy, too.

  There was only one fly in the ointment – Ruth.

  Every morning, she arrived shortly after John left, and took over ... everything.

  No matter what Miranda did, Ruth either criticized the way she did it or took over and did it herself. One morning, she’d even caught Ruth rearranging the clean clothes she’d hung on the clothesline. Miranda was tempted to say something, but decided against it. She’d only end up feeling as if she was wrong, and she was tired of always feeling inferior and unworthy.

  At least Hope and Ellie seemed to be happy with her, she thought as she rolled out pastry for the pie she planned to bake for dessert. Realizing she’d forgotten to ask the girls whether they wanted apple or cherry pie, she wiped her hands on her apron and headed up the stairs.

  As she approached the bedroom, she heard Ruth’s sharp voice. “That’s not the way I showed you, Hope,” she was saying. “The corners must be tucked in like this. Now do it again.”

  Miranda stepped into the room. Hope was standing at the foot of her bed, her face a mask of misery, tears drying on her cheeks. “Is there a problem, Ruth?”

  Her gaze shifted from Hope to Miranda. “Not at all,” she replied. “I was just showing Hope how to do square corners. You do know how to make a bed using square corners, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Miranda said. “Not when I was five years old, I admit.”

  “It’s never too early to teach children how things should be done properly.”

  Miranda disagreed, just as she disagreed with many of her child-rearing beliefs, but she kept quiet. Ruth was John’s aunt, and she didn’t want to come between them. Instead of contradicting her, she turned her attention back to Hope. “Hope?” she asked. “Where’s Ellie?”

  “She went ... outside ...” Hope hiccupped.

  “Please go and find her and wait for me on the porch,” Miranda said, then smiled sweetly at Ruth. “I’ve decided to take the girls to see their father at the diner.”

  Ruth’s face twisted in a frown. “They haven’t finished their chores yet—”

  “An unmade bed isn’t the end of the world, is it?”

  “Cleanliness—”

  “I know, but I’m taking the children out. We’ll be back later.”

  Before Ruth could protest any further, Miranda hurried downstairs. The pie could wait. Helping the children to escape John’s aunt couldn’t.

  ***

  The Blue Sapphire was crowded when Miranda and the children walked in. The twins were greeted by almost every one of the customers, and Miranda felt self-conscious. She did recognize some of the people since they’d been at her wedding supper, but she couldn’t put names to them.

  She found John in the kitchen stirring a large pot on the stove. He looked up and gave them a wide smile. “What brings you down here? Everything all right?”

  Miranda nodded. The kitchen was unbearably hot and he was busy. She wouldn’t add to his problems by complaining about Ruth. “We’re on our way to the mercantile and the post office. I have a letter to mail to my friend, Lily, back in Beckham. I thought we’d stop in and say hello. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “I’m always happy to see my three favorite ladies.”

  “We’s gonna buy fabric.” Ellie looked up at Miranda, her eyes wide. “Did I say that right?”

  “Perfectly,” Miranda replied.

  “Mama said she’d make a blanket for Rapunzel’s bed.”

  “Snow White, too,” Hope put in.

  Miranda laughed. “Yes, I did. I’d also like to buy some fabric to make myself a dress or two and some for the girls if that’s all right. They’re going back to school soon and I noticed their dresses are getting very tight and short.”

  “There’s money in the coffee can on the top shelf over there,” John said.

  “Thank you.” Miranda lifted the can down and took out a few bills. “I won’t spend anymore than necessary.”

  John set the spoon down and turned to face her. His hands gripped her shoulders, the heat searing her and sending a now-familiar tingle rushing through her. “Miranda, I’m not poor. You don’t have to scrimp. I want you and the girls to have what you need, so don’t ever think I’m going to be upset if you spend money.”

  “I want you to save for the expansion—”

  “The expansion will come, or it won’t. I won’t deprive my family to make that happen. Okay?”

  Miranda nodded. “Okay.”

  “Can we go now?” Hope’s voice filled the space.

  “Yes, Hope, we can go now,” Miranda replied w
ith a smile.

  After saying goodbye, they exited the diner and strolled down the boardwalk toward the mercantile.

  All the while, an idea was forming in Miranda’s brain, an idea that could perhaps help John to realize his dream sooner rather than later.

  ***

  It was Saturday, and the diner was closed. It was closed on Sundays until after church, but when Nancy died, he’d started closing one day a week as well. He needed a day to spend with the girls, and he figured they needed a day with him, too. It also gave them all a break from Aunt Ruth, although he’d never admit that to anybody.

  John leaned back in his chair after their noon meal and let out a satisfied sigh. “That was the best steak pie I’ve ever had, Miranda. “I’ve never had pastry so light and fluffy.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly as she got up and began to clear the table.

  He noticed the tinge of color on her cheeks, and it still surprised him that compliments embarrassed her. Most of the women he’d known enjoyed flattery, but it seemed to make Miranda uncomfortable. He’d have to make a point of giving her more compliments so she’d get used to it, he decided.

  Miranda had been particularly quiet all morning, and even though she’d assured him she was fine, he couldn’t help worrying that something was wrong. Was she sick? And if she wasn’t, did she regret marrying him? Was Aunt Ruth making her life so miserable she was thinking about leaving?

  “Mama?” Hope’s voice speaking to Miranda interrupted his thoughts.

  Miranda smiled at Hope, who was waiting patiently for a piece of the cake and custard Miranda was serving into a bowl. “Yes?”

  She pointed to a spot on her nose. “I got a brown spot like yours.”

  Miranda leaned closer and grinned. “You do,” she said.

  “Will I get lots of spots like yours?”

  Miranda put the knife on the plate and smiled down at Hope. “They’re called freckles,” she said. “Isn’t that a funny word?”

  Ellie giggled.

  “I don’t know if you’ll get lots or just one, but it doesn’t matter—”

  “Aunt Ruth says they stop ladies from being pretty.”

  “What?” John was stunned that his aunt would say such a thing.

  “But you’re real pretty. Isn’t she, Ellie?” Hope said.

  Ellie bobbed her head vigorously.

  Miranda seemed to be speechless. “Your mama is very pretty,” John put in. “And especially her freckles.”

  To prove his point, he got up and rounded the table to where Miranda was sitting. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

  He saw the confusion in her eyes, and he understood it. Other than their kisses before bed, he’d made a point of not showing her any physical affection. He couldn’t afford to let his body betray him into breaking his promise to Nancy.

  It was important to show his girls that they shouldn’t be worried about a few freckles. And if he was being truthful, he thought Miranda’s freckles only made her prettier. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but her wide smile and bright eyes gave her an inner light that warmed his insides.

  “You like her freckles, Papa?” Ellie asked.

  He grinned at Miranda. “I do.” Still holding her hands, he drew her toward him and lowered his head to hers. He pressed his lips gently against the freckles on her nose.

  He heard her suck in a breath and pulled back a few inches. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as if they were waiting for him to take possession.

  Lord help him, he wanted to, and he probably would have if giggles coming from the two little girls at the table hadn’t invaded his brain.

  Releasing Miranda, he took a step back, his gaze never leaving hers. A tiny frown appeared between her brows and her teeth nibbled at her lips.

  “I ... I have work to do ...” he said, his voice deep and gruff. Turning away, he crossed the room and went outside, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

  ***

  John was unusually quiet the rest of the day, and when he kissed her goodnight that night, he didn’t wrap his arms around her as he usually did, only grazed her lips and rolled away from her. She had no idea what had caused the sudden change, and it bothered her that she might have unknowingly done or said something to deserve it.

  By the time he left for the diner the next morning, Miranda had already decided the problem was the kiss they’d shared the day before. He’d regretted it. There was nothing else she could think of why his mood had altered so suddenly. They’d been having a pleasant meal until then. But what was so different about that kiss than their goodnight kisses?

  Was it because it was daylight? In front of Hope and Ellie? Because there was no reason for the kiss?

  She was still pondering John’s sudden mood change when she glanced at the clock and realized how late it was and Ruth still hadn’t arrived.

  Perhaps she’d just overslept. There was no point in worrying until she had good reason. Still, it wasn’t like her to be late.

  A twinge of concern picked at Miranda. Had something happened to her? Was she ill? Hurt? She lived alone, so if something had happened to her, it was quite possible no one would know.

  It was so tempting to just enjoy a day alone with the girls, but if Ruth had a problem and Miranda ignored it, she’d never forgive herself.

  She glanced at the clock and made a decision. If Ruth hadn’t arrived by noon, she’d take the girls and walk to her house to check on her.

  Meanwhile, she wanted to do something special with the girls. She’d have to hurry to finish her chores later, but it would be worth it. And she knew just what to do.

  Hurrying to the bottom of the stairs, she called out to the girls in their bedroom. “Hope? Ellie? Come downstairs, please.”

  She heard their footsteps a few moments before they raced down the stairs and stopped in front of her. They looked up at her hesitantly. “Are we in trouble?”

  Miranda chuckled. “No. Not at all. I wanted to see if you’d like to have a bricnic this morning?”

  “What’s a bricnic?” Ellie asked.

  “It’s like a picnic but they’re usually in the afternoon. Since it’s still morning, it can be a bricnic – after breakfast but before lunch.”

  “That’s a funny word,” Hope said. “Where will we go?”

  “Just in the yard, but we’ll have snacks, and you can play with your dolls. Or I can read more of The Little Mermaid to you.”

  “Yes, please,” they said in unison.

  A few minutes later, Miranda and the girls left the house and spread a blanket under a willow tree in the yard. She’d made lemonade and soon they were munching on scones and honey.

  Ellie picked up the worn copy of The Little Mermaid. “Will you read to us now?” she asked, wiping her sticky fingers on a napkin and scrubbing it on her face.

  “I will.”

  Shaded by the willow, the temperature was warm, and a soft breeze perfumed by the rose bushes along the side of the house filled the air. The girls sat cross-legged on the blanket, Snow White and Rapunzel cradled in their arms, and Miranda began to read the story of a mermaid who fell in love with a prince and after many obstacles, lived happily ever after with him on land.

  Miranda had always loved the story, and she was happy to share it with the girls, hoping they’d love it as much as she did.

  “Did you always know how to read?” Ellie asked. “I’m going to school soon and I’ll learn, too.”

  “Me too,” Hope added.

  “I didn’t always know how, but once I learned to read, I always liked to. Books can let you travel around the word and take you on exciting adventures.”

  And help you to hide from the reality of your life, she could have added, but stopped herself. Books had been her escape as a child, and she’d spent hours living through the characters between the pages. One of her favorites had been The Ugly Duckling, and she’d waited, expecting to be transformed into a beautiful woman when she grew up just
as the ugly duckling had grown into a beautiful swan. She’d been disappointed when it hadn’t happened, but she was old enough by then to realize it was a fairy tale and not reality.

  “...and the prince—”

  “What’s going on here?” The voice from behind startled Miranda. She spun around and faced Ruth, towering over her and the children, her lips pressed in a thin line, her hands on her hips.

  Miranda’s heartbeat stuttered, and for a few moments she felt like a little girl who’d misbehaved. But she wasn’t. She was a grown woman who had the right to do as she liked.

  Taking in a calming breath, she smiled sweetly. “We’re reading.”

  “Mama is telling us a story about the mermaid—”

  Miranda was about to make an excuse, but stopped herself. She’d done nothing wrong. She hadn’t hurt them, and they’d been happy all morning – until now.

  She refused to argue with Ruth, especially in front of the children. She got to her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she said to the girls and moved away.

  Ruth followed.

  “Really, Miranda. You’re teaching the girls that play comes before their chores.”

  “Sometimes a break in routine is a good thing. They’ll do their chores later.”

  They need to be learning to clean, and sew and do laundry, not waste their time with their heads in books, daydreaming.”

  “Daydreaming? Perhaps, but they’re also learning,” Miranda countered. “Books can teach them about the world and everything in it without ever leaving home.”

  “The house needs a good cleaning—”

  Miranda bristled. If there was one thing Miranda knew how to do it was clean, and she resented Ruth’s thinly veiled insults.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Miranda said as calmly as she could manage, even though she had no intention of talking about it at all. Then, turning her back on Ruth, she went back to where the girls were waiting.

  She sat down, picked up the book and smiled at them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ruth storming up the porch steps. The door slammed behind her as she went into the house. “Now,” Miranda said, “where were we?”