He didn’t believe in make-believe and eased away. “I remember lots of good things about them.” He picked up a board and returned to work before she would ask him to share his memories. Maybe he would one of these days. If she stayed around long enough. He realized that sometime over the past few days he’d been able to think of his children and smile. And it felt good.
No doubt having two children playing underfoot had made it possible.
He’d like to do something for Eleanor and Libby. All afternoon, he thought of what he could do. He considered making them something out of wood. Perhaps a doll cradle, but they had no doll to put in it.
Then he recalled something and knew what he would do.
He waited until supper time. “You go ahead. Tell Bonnie I’ll be there shortly.” He watched until they stepped inside the Morton home; then he turned his feet up the street and went directly to Macpherson’s store. Bright red and silver balls, a little toy farm wagon, an embroidered ladies’ hankie and half a dozen fancy cards with a winter scene and Christmas trees formed part of the window display. All reminders of the season he had resolutely ignored for two years.
Macpherson was thankfully alone inside the store.
“I’ll take that.” Blue pointed at the display behind the glass counter.
Macpherson stared at Blue. “That?”
“Yes, that. How much is it?”
Macpherson named a sum, and Blue dug the correct amount of money out of his purse.
When the man saw that Blue was serious, he pulled out the box and wrapped it in brown store paper and tied it firmly. “I never thought I’d see the day that Blue Lyons bought himself a—”
“Let it go, Macpherson. And best if you keep this to yourself.”
“Oh, for sure. You can count on it.”
Whether he could or not, Blue didn’t know. He took the package and returned to the church. Now to wait until tomorrow when he could give it to the girls.
The next morning, he was awake early. Too early to go for breakfast. He stared at the package on the pew. What was he thinking to buy them a gift? Would Clara refuse to let the girls have it? Would she want to pay for it? He chuckled. Likely she’d try to do both. But he kind of figured she wouldn’t be able to resist her daughters.
He spun away and stared out the window at the pink dawn. Surely breakfast would be ready by now.
He shrugged into his coat and trotted over, slowing his steps when he drew abreast of the shack.
Libby’s voice reached him. “Mama, my coat’s all twisted.”
“Let me see.”
He imagined Clara fussing over her younger daughter while Eleanor stood by, watching and worrying.
Someone ought to take care of all three of them...protect Clara from whomever she ran from, take over Eleanor’s worries, keep a check on Libby’s impetuousness.
He curled his hands into fists and denied that he imagined himself taking on that role. Seems he’d picked up on pretend play from the little girls.
Clara’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “There you go. Now put it on.”
Blue hastened onward lest he be found lurking outside their door. He was seated at the table when they reached the Morton place.
Libby dropped her coat on the floor, picked it up at her mother’s reminder, then skidded to her place. She waited only for Claude to ask the blessing before she started to chatter about a dream she’d had that seemed to involve a cat, a dog and a horse who all fell into a river.
Clara shook her head. “Libby, would you eat your breakfast?”
Blue had eaten steadily while the child talked and had already finished. Seeing no call to linger, he thanked Bonnie and Claude and headed for the door.
“We’ll be right there,” Libby said and began to spoon the food into her mouth at a furious rate.
Clara touched Libby’s hand to signal her to slow down.
Eleanor finished and pushed her plate away. “Can I go with Mr. Blue?”
Blue jerked to a halt. Wouldn’t it ruin the surprise?
Clara shook her head. “You can wait for us.”
He rushed away. By the time he reached the church, his heart pounded in a fast tempo. Perhaps as much from nervousness as activity. He didn’t intend to change his mind about the gift, though he had a dozen arguments as to why he shouldn’t have done it.