The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek Page 15

  So where in the world—or in the state of Texas—was the girl’s mother? Why had she left her daughter alone for so long? A mother doesn’t just misplace her child. Even the worst mother would certainly realize she was gone by now.

  Birdie had a lot of questions about Missy she needed answers to but didn’t feel many answers would be forthcoming from Missy. She took out her cell phone, punched a number, and waited for Mercedes to answer. “Meet me at the church ASAP,” she said and hung up without waiting for a response. Mercedes would be there.

  “Judy, cover for me. I’ll be back for lunch,” Birdie told the other waitress. “Come on, Missy.” She held out her hand.

  On the way to the church, Birdie used her key to open the door of the thrift shop run by many of the churches. Not all the churches because there were some groups that refused to cooperate, not even to feed the hungry or to help a pitiful, lost little girl. She pulled out a change of clothes and underwear for the child, taped a note to the cash register—“Please charge $10.58 to the account of the Christian Church”—and headed over to the church office.

  Adam looked up from his notes to see Miss Birdie stride into the study holding the hand of a very dirty child.

  “Didn’t expect you to be here,” the pillar said as she stopped and glared at him for being in his own office. He guessed he’d never please her.

  “Awfully early for you,” she added.

  Glancing at the clock, he nodded. “I had some things to finish up. I could leave if it’s inconvenient to have me here.”

  She didn’t, of course, get the joke. Instead she said, “You can stay. You might have some ideas.” Her voice suggested she doubted that.

  He stood and walked around the desk to kneel in front of the little girl. “I’m Adam. Who are you?”

  “This is the Reverend Jordan,” the pillar explained with a glare toward him. “Sometimes you’re too informal, Preacher.”

  “I’m Missy,” the child said. “I lost my mommy.”

  “When was that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Losing your mother can’t feel good. Where did you put her?”

  Missy shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her voice quivered.

  “Do you live in Butternut Creek?”

  The girl smiled. “What a funny name.”

  “Guess not,” he said to Miss Birdie. He picked Missy up and sat on one of the cleared chairs with her on his lap. The child patted him on the cheek.

  “What do you know about this lovely young lady?” he asked the pillar while bouncing Missy up and down.

  “Nothing. She was alone outside the diner when I opened up this morning.” The pillar went on to tell the story. “When her mother didn’t show up, I brought her over here to give her a shower and talk to Mercedes about what to do now.”

  “How nice of you,” he said. “Most people would have left her there, ignored her, decided she was someone else’s problem.”

  The pillar said nothing, embarrassed to be called a good person.

  Adam smiled at Missy again. “Missy, do you know where your daddy is?”

  “Away,” she said with no particular emotion.

  “Your grandmother or grandfather?”

  “Grandpa’s with Jesus.” Missy nodded confidently.

  “Someone’s taken her to church.” He glanced up at Birdie before looking back at Missy.

  “And your grandmother?”

  “Virginia,” she said which didn’t help a whole lot. Was that a name or a location?

  Before he could seek clarification, the child said, “I want my mommy.” Tears clouded her eyes.

  “Of course you do, and we’re having people look all over for her.” Adam reached to the desk and got a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Can you tell me anything you remember?”

  “I was cold.” She shivered. “And scared.” She began to sob.

  “Why don’t we take a walk and see if you remember anyplace,” Adam said.

  But a fifteen-minute walk during which Adam carried Missy didn’t jog her memory.

  Once they got back to the church and his study, Adam joggled Missy on his lap.

  Miss Birdie said, “I called DPS—protective services. They’re sending a social worker.”

  Adam felt a great sense of relief. Someone who knew how to handle this would take over.

  “Sweetheart, a nice lady will be coming to take you someplace to wait for your mommy.”

  “Take me someplace?” Fear tinged Missy’s voice. “What nice lady?” She looked at the pillar, her eyes wide again. “Are you the nice lady?”

  “No, another lady will find a place for you to stay,” he said. “A very nice lady. She’ll be here soon.”

  Missy hopped off his lap, ran the short distance to Miss Birdie, and grasped the pillar’s hand. “Want to stay with you.”

  Because she’d taken in her two granddaughters, Adam knew a soft place for abandoned little girls existed in the pillar’s heart, as much as she attempted to hide it. From her expression, he could also tell the conflicting emotions that raged inside her: fear and consternation but also duty and compassion. Miss Birdie possessed an easy-to-read face, though usually it showed only frustration with her pastor. The range of her feelings at this moment intrigued him.

  “She won’t be lost very long,” Miss Birdie said as if considering the addition of one more to her family. “The police should find her mother right away. I bet she’s looking for Missy as we speak. But she really needs a shower.”

  “Why don’t you take her to the gym and wash her up.” Years ago, the church had had an active recreation program with great facilities. Someday, he hoped to start that again, but the entire area needed a lot of work and the church barely had enough money to keep the main building functioning. “I’ll wait for Mercedes and children’s services and call the police.”

  When they returned twenty minutes later, he’d finished the calls. Missy’s brown hair stood up in wisps from being towel-dried and her freckles showed against clean, pale skin.

  “I got her a change of clothes at the thrift shop but put the dirty clothes in this.” She held up a plastic sack. “Too dirty and ragged to wear again, but I thought maybe the police could find something on them if it comes to that. Nothing in her pockets, no identification. Of course, I’m sure someone is looking for her.”

  Adam nodded but added nothing to the conversation Miss Birdie carried on with herself.

  “You know, I have two girls I’m already taking care of,” she said. “You know my plate is full now.”

  Yes, he did, but he didn’t dare insult her by suggesting she couldn’t do everything.

  When he didn’t say a word, the pillar said to the little girl, “Missy, when the nice lady gets here, she’ll find you a place to stay until they find your mother.”

  “Please,” Missy said in a trembling voice and with a beseeching expression only the hardest of hearts could resist, then she climbed on to Miss Birdie’s lap and put her arms around the elder’s neck.

  A sudden rush of tenderness covered Miss Birdie’s face before she again donned her no-nonsense, pillar-of-the-church expression. “All right.” She nodded. “Bree and Mac will help and she’ll be with us for such a short time.”

  “You can use the Presbyterians’ day care,” Adam suggested. “The ministerial benevolence fund can cover that.”

  Seconds later Mercedes walked into the room. “Sorry, I got held up at the library.” After listening to how Missy had ended up in the pillar’s lap, the Widow made more calls to check on legalities with her various relatives and make sure Miss Birdie would be immediately approved for foster care if necessary.

  Twenty minutes later, the police arrived. They found out little from Missy but took her picture, clothes, and fingerprints. They also noticed smudges on the child’s shoes they thought might be her mother’s fingerprints. Or maybe not, but they’d send them to the lab in Austin. They’d check the hospitals in Austin and the morgue and put out a bulleti
n about the girl covering a hundred-mile radius. With so little to go on, they couldn’t do more.

  The two Widows left with a little girl between them.

  “I’m sure she won’t be with me for long,” Miss Birdie said as she closed the door. She’d looked more worried and uncertain than Adam had seen her during their short acquaintance.

  He vowed to help her as much as possible, but he wouldn’t insult her by letting her know he was looking out for her as much as for Missy.

  Sam would never have opened the door if he hadn’t looked out the window and seen two horses standing in his front lawn. A man stood with them, a man he recognized. Sam’s mind associated the man with horses, but how hard was that connection when the man stood with two horses? Still, Sam thought it was an important link, something from those years he’d visited here.

  Oddly, today he was up, showered, and dressed earlier than usual, but after fixing his own breakfast, he had no idea what to do next. Probably the reason he didn’t usually get up so early.

  “You don’t remember me,” the man began as Sam stepped out on the porch.

  Not true. Sam could remember him, but he couldn’t remember how.

  “I’m Jesse Hardin from the Christian Church.”

  Sam took the man’s callused hand and shook it before a memory surfaced. “Hey, I do remember you. You’re the horse man. Aunt Effie used to take me to your place to ride.” Sam grinned. “Those are some of the best memories of my life.”

  But he still didn’t understand why these two horses—the gray with a saddle and the Appaloosa with only a blanket across her back—stood there, munching on the sparse grass of what he and the boys laughingly referred to as the front lawn.

  “Thought you might like to take a ride this morning.” Jesse jerked his head toward the animals.

  “This morning? A ride?” He grinned. “In town? Is it legal?”

  “Sure. I called Mercedes the other day. Her sister the judge approved the ride as a medical treatment for a vet, one of our boys.”

  “Medical treatment?” Sam stepped onto the porch, closed the door behind him, and studied the animals.

  “Saw a program on the TV about amputees, vets who’ve lost their legs. Seems that if they ride a horse, it helps build up muscles and gets them used to a prosthesis better. Cheers ’em up, too.”

  “Really?” Sam turned to study Jesse. Was the man kidding him?

  “Yup. Figure if it’s on the TV, it must be true. Want to try it?”

  Oh, yeah. Much better than walking between parallel bars.

  “Supposed to also help with your balance and build your core, whatever that is.” Jesse pointed. “You get the horse with the pad, Captain, because that’s supposed to allow you to feel the horse better. That’s what the guy on the TV said.”

  For a few seconds, Sam studied the horse. Tall creatures. “How do I get on?”

  Jesse smiled. “Figured that out before I got here. You go to the edge of the porch and put your leg—the right one—over the back of the horse. I’ll stand down there and give you a hand if you need it.”

  Sam had visions of himself rolling over the horse, ending up sprawled on the ground. But marines didn’t mind falling on the ground. Marines were tough. He could handle this. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Jesse ran down the steps, pulled the Appaloosa toward the porch. He angled the horse so she straddled the steps, pushing her a little sideways and closer. The horse obeyed calmly, an action that made Sam feel more confident. This didn’t seem like a creature who’d run away with him or buck him off.

  “Gracie’s a gentle old lady.” Jesse stood on the other side of her and held out his hand. “You’re perfectly safe.”

  With a nod, Sam approached the horse, leaned over to put his hand on her neck, and shifted his weight before raising his right leg to mount Gracie. When he settled on her broad back, she shifted a little but stayed still enough for him to relax, regain his balance, and pick up the reins. Jesse stood, unobtrusively, next to Gracie but didn’t offer assistance.

  When Sam felt secure, Jesse said, “Stay right there,” as if Sam planned to gallop off.

  The older man took the reins of his horse, got on, then reached for Gracie’s reins. “The program showed the horse being led. Don’t know why.”

  “If the program said that, go ahead.”

  It was fun, sitting on Gracie’s back, her gait rocking him. Keeping his balance was harder than he’d thought but truly much more enjoyable than the parallel bars. He could feel strain in the muscles of his leg and other parts he hadn’t worked on in PT. He didn’t care. He was on a horse, ambling along the street and out to the countryside northwest of town. He felt great.

  After fifteen minutes, Jesse turned the horses around. “Don’t want to wear you out the first time,” he said. “The program said once a week so I’ll be back next Friday, if that works for you.”

  “Thanks, Jesse. That works great for me.” He’d clear the entire day, the entire week, if he needed to.

  They headed back toward town, through the rolling scenery and the green grass of the Hill Country.

  “Next spring the bluebonnets will cover all this.” Jesse waved at the fields. “Ever seen the wildflowers?”

  Sam shook his head. “I always visited in the summer.” Would he be here next spring to see them? He had no idea. Right now, he looked only far enough ahead to riding Gracie again, to ambling along the farm-to-market road toward Llano on her back.

  On the way home, his thighs cramped and his back began to hurt from holding his posture. It felt like a good kind of hurt, the kind that came from exercise, not injury. The lethargy that filled him was just plain old exhaustion. He should sleep well tonight.

  Odd how he’d begun to care about this community and the nice people. Jesse didn’t have to do this, but he rode in front of Sam, perfectly happy to be ambling along the road, spending his time doing something for Sam. And the ladies had brought him so much food, he seldom had to microwave a frozen dinner. Because of them, he’d started to feel positive emotions, to be thankful, to feel alive—almost happy.

  And he regretted every one of those feelings.

  Chapter Twelve

  Birdie stepped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes before she slipped on a pair of soft slippers. She closed her eyes for a moment—only a few seconds because she’d fall asleep if she stopped moving. Lord, she was plum wore out. Seemed she was always tired. And now what had she done on top of everything else? Taken this child in.

  The child was sleeping so maybe Birdie’d take a nap. Yes, she would, later, after she put the groceries away and thawed something for dinner and… well, a few other things. After she finished all that, she’d take a nap. Of course, by that time, Missy’d probably be awake. She sighed as she rotated her shoulder to relieve the stiffness and headed into the kitchen.

  She had to take care of herself. The girls couldn’t get along without her and she’d just added one more child. All right, Missy was temporary and didn’t really count on Birdie, but others did.

  If she did too much and got sick, what would the church do without her? Everyone would leave things to this young minister, who might begin a guitar service, or use PowerPoint to display praise songs on the wall, or introduce all kinds of foolishness without her supervision. Not that he’d showed that inclination yet, but she needed to be here in case the tendency broke out unexpectedly.

  No, she couldn’t get old. She refused to get sick. Probably she should pray about it, tell God to either give her more strength or chip off a few layers of responsibility, but she didn’t have the time or energy to instruct God about how to run the universe, not right now.

  The girls would be home soon. They’d figure out how to watch Missy. First they’d…

  A knock came on the front door. She glanced down at the sofa where Missy slept with Carlos the Cat curled up happily next to her. Don’t that beat all? Carlos was usually an attack cat, but there he lay, snuggled against Missy. Then
she opened the door as she moved her shoulder to get that final kink out.

  Adam watched as Miss Birdie again rotated her shoulder and grimaced. The pillar did have a breaking point, was actually human. He had to remind himself that she was nearing seventy and had the aches and pains of an elderly person—not that he’d ever call her that when she could hear—and the responsibilities of a much younger woman. As her minister, Adam had to remember she was a beloved child of God and treat her as such, even during the times she acted so determined and in charge—and scheming.

  “I didn’t know if you had a bed for Missy,” he said. “I went over to the thrift shop and got a blow-up mattress and a nightgown and some clothing for her.” He held out a large box and a small package. “Hope everything fits.”

  “Thanks, Pastor.” She actually smiled at him, as if her minister had done something right, finally, but the smile didn’t change the fact that she looked exhausted.

  “Do you need anything else? Toys? More clothing?”

  She shook her head. “Missy won’t be here long. Maybe tonight. Maybe not. Her mother’s looking for this little one. She has good manners and has gone to church. Someone has taken good care of Missy, taught her well, and must be worried.”

  The two both looked at Missy.

  “Let me know if I can do anything,” Adam said.

  “Think I can’t handle this?” Before Adam could answer, she plowed on, “Like a bachelor knows anything about children.” She snorted.

  The truce was over. Of course Miss Birdie would fight anyone who tried to shoulder part of her burden, but he’d do what he could even if he had to conceal his actions.

  “My neighbor does. Ouida said she’d watch her in the evening, when you want to do something with your granddaughters. And I can take Missy to day care and bring her back. Besides, I do have a sister. There are things I can do.”