Falling for a Father of Four. Arlene JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Orren Ellis on Fatherhood:
To my children,
I’m so proud of you four. Each of you in your own way has a deep, instinctive understanding of love. You, Chaz, eldest and only son, understand that love is responsibility, which you so willingly and ably accept. For bright Jean Marie, love is to be tightly grasped and defended. My Yancy doll has always known that love is for happily sharing. And my sweet baby Candy Sue carries love to us all in every smile and cuddle.
Because of you four, I’ve always had reason to count my blessings. You’ve gotten me through some tough times. You brought Mattie to us. (She says that we make her complete, but we know that she was the missing part of our family.) Never forget that it has always been and will always be you who make me what I am, a happy father of four. Maybe one day before long I’ll even be a happy father of five…or six…or…Who knows? And who can blame me for wanting more, when every one of you has brought me such joy?
I will always love you. Chaz. Jean Marie. Yancy. Candy Sue. Wherever you eventually go, whatever you may or may not do, whomever you will become, I will always love you. Always.
Daddy
Falling for a Father of Four
Arlene James
ARLENE JAMES
says, “Camp meetings, mission work and church attendance permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He has blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”
The author of more than sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside Fort Worth, Texas, with her beloved husband. Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade! She loves to hear from readers, and can be reached at 1301 E. Debbie Lane, Suite 102, Box 117, Mansfield, Texas 76063, or via her Web site at www.arlenejames.com.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
“Get down, you big baby, and get outta my way!”
Jean Marie shoved at her younger sister, not hard enough to really send her over the edge of the counter and crashing to the floor, but hard enough to let her know that she meant business. Sitting at the kitchen table, Orren covered the mouthpiece of the telephone receiver and counted to ten, striving for patience as four-year-old Yancy Kay wailed and called for her “bubby,” Chaz. All of eight, Chaz was the family hero, and Orren knew that he depended on his son too much, but wasn’t he doing everything in his power to try to take some of the weight off of those slender shoulders? Not, however, at the moment. He nodded at Chaz, who disgustedly reached past Yancy’s tormentor, their six-year-old sister Jean Marie, and heaved Yancy off the counter, against which Jean Marie had pushed a chair in order to prepare her specialty of buttered crackers for an afternoon snack.
“You don’t have to be such a meanie,” Chaz scolded in a low mutter.
Deeply offended, Jean Marie threw the knife with which she was working into the sink, where it clattered noisily among the other dishes. Yancy yowled, and Orren’s caller hung up. He couldn’t blame her. No woman in her right mind would willingly walk into this lion’s den. Orren put his head in his hands and sighed. “Well, that’s another one we can forget about.”
Repentant, Yancy stuck her thumb in her mouth and laid her tousled golden-blond head on Chaz’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dad,” the boy said. Then he turned his attention to the four-year-old wrapped around him. “You shouldn’t have climbed up on the counter, Yancy. The apples are all gone, anyway.”
“I’ll get some more when I go to the store,” Orren promised tiredly, getting up to hang up the phone. Trying to sound reasonable, he turned a look at redheaded Jean Marie. “You shouldn’t talk so ugly to your baby sister, Red.”
“She ain’t the baby,” Jean Marie retorted unconcernedly, taking another clean knife from the drawer. “She just acts like it.”
She was right. Three-year-old Sweetums, otherwise known as Candy Sue, was still enjoying her afternoon nap, her curly, pale blond head lying on his pillow even as they spoke, but that wasn’t the point. “You still shouldn’t be so cross with her. She just wanted an apple.”
“We ain’t got any apples,” Jean Marie said, “and she was gonna fall on her durned fool head.”
“Watch your mouth!” Orren snapped, despair sitting on him like a big mother hen brooding a chick. He’d had two calls on the ad, and both had hung up after hearing how many kids they’d be expected to sit and the unmistakable sounds of the chaos that reigned over his household. Fourteen bucks wasted and a day of work lost for nothing. What was he going to do tomorrow when he had to show up for work? He was scared to death to leave them alone, but how could he work and care for them, too?
He looked at Chaz, sighing. “You may have to go back to the day care,” he said, and winced as both Jean Marie and Yancy screamed protests, Jean Marie with several words she shouldn’t even have known, Yancy with her usual howl. He pointed a stern finger at Jean Marie. “Go to your room, young lady. I won’t have you talking like that.”
“I hate that old day care!” she yelled. “That Porter woman’ll call welfare on us!”
“No, she won’t,” Chaz said resignedly. “She’s onto your tricks and lies now.”
Orren shook his head, recalling all the ways Jean Marie had sought to get herself and her siblings barred from the day care center: the strawberry jelly rashes, the hole-riddled underwear and socks, the tall tales about deadly diseases and strange curses. He wasn’t at all certain Mrs. Porter would take them full time. After-school care had been difficult enough. But what other choice did he have now that school was out? He started planning his plea and tried not to think about what it was going to cost, especially since the hours would mean cutting back on the side jobs he took to make a little extra.
“Get on to your room,” he said to Jean Marie as the phone rang again. She threw herself off the chair and pounded away, slamming doors in her wake. Orren sent a look to Chaz as he reached for the receiver of the wall-mounted phone near the door. “Check on the baby. If the phone doesn’t wake her, Jean Marie will.” He snatched up the receiver in the middle of a second ring. “Hello.”
A bright voice at the other end of the line said, “Hi, my name is Matilda Kincaid.”
Mattie hung up the phone and smiled in satisfaction. Mr. Orren Ellis sounded frankly desperate. She was welcome to come out and interview even if she wasn’t the grandmotherly type specified in his ad, and the sooner the better. Right away, in fact. They could talk about the kids and the other duties once she got there. All she had to do was hit Bois d’arc off the 81 Bypass and follow it past the old cemetery. It was the beige and white house on the right, with the For Sale sign standing up close to the road. Come to the carport door. The For Sale sign was for the acreage and not the house.
Mattie rolled off her bed onto the floor, stabbed her feet into sandals