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  Back at the table, Gigi said, "Oh. I didn't think of that. You're right. We should let Grady keep them 'til the next time he comes."

  Grady's mind had been racing during the girls' exchange, trying to figure out a way to salvage the mess he'd made. They would never trust him again for yelling like that. He honestly hadn't known what else to do. Never in his wildest dreams, though, had he imagined the way Mary would react to him or the distrust he would see in Gigi's eyes. Glad as he was the girls had settled their differences, he knew he couldn't let it end there. Turning to look at Mary over his shoulder, he asked, "Mary can you come sit with us for a minute?"

  Her movements brittle, Mary took the seat opposite Grady. She stared at him blankly. Once she was seated, he asked, "How old were you, Mary, when your ma passed away?"

  "Fourteen."

  "Okay, so that means Lizzie, you would have been about six or seven, right?" Lizzie nodded.

  "I was five, almost six," Gigi provided, not waiting to be asked.

  "Gigi, do you remember your ma?" Grady asked.

  "She was a wonderful ma. She loved us lots and was good to us all the time." Her voice was sure, and her brown braids bobbed as she nodded emphatically.

  Grady wondered if Gigi was drawing on memories of her ma or things her siblings had told her over the years.

  "What about you, Lizzie? Do you have memories of your ma?"

  She gave the slightest nod. The progress he'd made with this taciturn girl during the morning was gone. Grady could see he'd lost the ground he'd gained with her and then some. "Did your ma ever hit you or treat you bad?" Anger sparked in Lizzie's eyes as she emphatically shook her head. "I'm glad," Grady continued, keeping his voice conversational. "I have a good ma who treats me real nice, too. It's good you can remember your ma like that." Taking a deep breath while carefully choosing his next words, he asked, "Did your ma ever yell at you?"

  Lizzie started to shake her head again, but Mary reached out and gently touched the young girl's arm. As if understanding the point Grady was trying to make with the girls, she asked, "Remember the time the boys threw the ball in the house and broke all those jars we'd worked so hard to can?"

  With a steady gaze that looked deep, Lizzie searched Mary's face. Grady watched the emotions play across the middle sister's face. The blank mask slipped away. First he saw confusion, then betrayal, then a touch of hope. Lizzie turned back to Grady and said evenly, "Ma yelled sometimes." Gigi bounced in her seat and gave her closest sister a fighting mad look. Lizzie lifted her chin and said, "It's true, Gigi. Ma yelled sometimes."

  "Ma was wonderful. She wasn't bad like Pa," Gigi said, her voice rich with censure. Defiant tears welled in her bright blue eyes, reminding Grady how tender her feelings were.

  Grady scooted his chair back from the table a bit and asked, "Gigi, could you come sit in my lap for a minute. You're right about your ma, and I want to talk to you about that."

  Suspicion was evident on the little girl's face, but at Mary's nod, she slid off her chair and scooted to within arm's reach of Grady. He picked her up and settled her in his lap, her back resting against his left arm. Positioning himself so he could see Lizzie out of the corner of his eye, he spoke directly to Gigi. "Your ma was a wonderful person. She loved all of you very much and never would have done anything to hurt any of you kids, right?" Gigi nodded. "Although she loved you and would never have hurt you, she still yelled sometimes." Gigi's chin jutted forward.

  "Your ma had five kids to take care of. That couldn't have been easy for her. I'm sure there were times when she had to raise her voice to be heard, or when she had to call someone in for supper, or when someone was fighting or misbehaving." Gigi would not make eye contact with him, but Grady forged on. "Sometimes good people yell. It's okay when that happens now and then. It shouldn't happen all the time. Just because someone raises their voice, it doesn't mean they're going to hit you or that they're a bad person. Your ma was a really good person, but she raised her voice sometimes, right?" Gigi didn't acknowledge his question, but Grady could see a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

  "I raised my voice to get you and Lizzie to stop fighting. Maybe that was a good choice. Maybe it was a bad choice. I'm not sure yet. I'd never ever hit you, though. I'm sorry if my yelling made you think I might. It would be great if I could tell you it won't happen again, but I can't. If I feel like that's the only way to be heard, then I'll raise my voice. How else can I get your attention? If you have other ideas, I'm all ears. Even if I raise my voice or yell, I promise you, I will never ever hit you." Grady couldn't stop himself from repeating that last point.

  When Gigi started to giggle, Grady raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's so funny there, little one?"

  "You're all ears." Gigi's giggles grew into guffaws as she said, "You don't look like corn!" Jumping out of Grady's lap, she ran over and grabbed Lizzie's hand, "Come on Lizzie, let's go wash up for dinner. I'm hungry!"

  Mary sat there, silent. His words had been directed at Gigi, but Lizzie and her older sister had both taken it in as he'd hoped they would.

  After a moment, Mary asked, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

  Grady had seen the one small pot on the stove and suspected there would not be enough food to feed another adult. He shook his head and said, "Not today. Maybe another time. I told Gram and Gramps I'd be back by dinnertime. Guess I'd better get going." He knew he'd made the right decision when he saw a momentary flash of relief on Mary's face. Worry quickly chased it away, of course, but the relief had been there long enough for him to catch a glimpse of it.

  Mary walked Grady to the door, opening it right as the boys were coming up onto the porch. The looks they gave Grady were not entirely welcoming, but Grady had already chosen his approach. Win the girls over first, and let them soften the boys up for him before he tried to befriend them. Clive's and Bobby's antagonism was further proof his plan was the right course of action.

  ****

  Not waiting to watch him pull out, Mary shut the door behind Grady. She stood there at the door, hand resting on the wood.

  Her biggest fear for her sisters was that they would think the way Pa treated them was normal and right. Worry that they would grow up to marry men who treated them the same way plagued her. Mary wanted them to know Pa's treatment of them was wrong, but she didn't know how to teach them things should be different. The girls saw how Pa was, and they saw how Mary allowed him to treat her. The need to protect the girls motivated her every decision, especially where their father was concerned, but she couldn't expect them to understand that at their age.

  Mary's stomach churned with turmoil over all the choices she felt she'd been robbed of and the worry about how it would affect her siblings. Grady's gentle explanation, and the kindness with which he treated her sisters, gave her hope. Mayhap she wouldn't tell him to get off their property the next time he came. If he came. Spending time with Grady might be good for the girls.

  The whisper of a thought floated through Mary's mind. I want to spend time with him, too. Ruthlessly, she pushed the notion away. Grady would never be interested in her. If she ever changed her mind about marriage as a way of escape for the five of them, she'd have to find someone truly hard up for a wife. Grady, on the other hand, was anything but desperate. He'd never consider her. Still, despite her resolve, the words echoed in her heart. I want to spend time with him, too.

  Chapter Three

  Grady collected the girls' tools and gloves and put them back into his satchel. He was thinking of working on the front porch the next time he came. Some of those boards were in need of repair. Could he get hammers for the girls? Would that be safe? Mary might find the front porch too invasive, too threatening. Maybe he should pick something a little further out from the house. He'd have to give it some thought.

  As he drove the wagon back to his grandparents' farm, he knew he was going to have to talk to them about what he'd seen today. He needed some advice, and he couldn't think of anyone better e
quipped than Gram and Gramps. God sure had done something good when he put James and Lillian Carlisle on this plot of land and allowed them to prosper. Grady was thankful in a new way for the kind and loving family he'd been born into.

  ****

  After he stored the wagon and got the horses brushed down and settled into their stalls, Grady headed up to the house. He stopped at the trough long enough to wash up with soap and some icy cold spring water before heading in and giving Gram a kiss on her weathered cheek. "Dinner sure does smell fine. I think you've outdone yourself."

  With a blushing smile, his grandmother said, "Pshaw. What's with all the flattery? Think it'll get you an extra slice of ham?" She snapped a towel to chase him out of the kitchen and toward the table. Her hair may be white, but his grandmother remained spry. She didn't have the stoop-shouldered appearance of frailty that some women developed with age.

  "Here's hoping!" Grady quipped back. Seeing his grandfather enter the dining room and take his seat at the table, he said, "Hey Gramps. How was your morning?"

  "Mighty fine, Grady, thanks for asking." Age hadn't undermined Gramps' solid build either, reminding Grady of a pugilist he'd once seen. His grey hair and creased face did nothing to diminish that impression. "Did you get taken care of the things you needed to?" Grady hadn't been very forthcoming this morning about where he'd been going. He appreciated his grandparents giving him some space and not treating him like a child but wondered if he'd bruised their feelings with his close-mouthed responses to their inquiries earlier in the day.

  "I'd like to talk to y'all about that," he said as he took his seat." I want to take on a project, but I need to handle it wisely. Think you could spare me some time after the meal?"

  Gram set the rest of the platters on the table and took her seat, saying the same thing she'd said at every meal Grady had ever shared with these two. "James, dear, why don't you bless the meal?"

  Gramps offered up a prayer asking God's favor on them and Grady's yet unnamed undertaking as well as for their many neighbors in need.

  After all the amens, the platters began to circulate around the table. Grady piled his plate high and winked at his grandmother when he took a second and then third slice of ham to put on his plate. He thought of the meager dinner Mary and her siblings would be sharing and wished he could do something to relieve the load Mary had to carry, something to alleviate the suffering of that family.

  "Might as well spit it out." Gramps got the words out before stuffing half a biscuit into his mouth.

  "No need to wait 'til after the meal when you've got us both here and listening right now," Gram added.

  Grady had forgotten this about his grandparents. Mealtime was a social event at their house. People talked and laughed and shared about their day. He loved his parents. They were wonderful. Mealtime at their house, though, was all about eating. Talking at the table, while not punishable, wasn't exactly encouraged.

  "All right," he started. "It's like this. I was arriving at the church with the wagon when Mr. Fitzgerald began making a scene. Mary and the kids ran for it, so I swung the wagon around and offered them a ride home." Though they continued to eat, he could tell he had his grandparents' undivided attention.

  "The place was a shambles when I brought them home. I could barely get the horses and wagon through, that drive is so overgrown. The house has seen better days, and the barn looks like a strong wind would knock it over. They're a skittish bunch, all so afraid, but the boys are also angry." He paused in his story long enough to take a couple of bites. His grandparents continued with their meal, not rushing him.

  "So, this morning, I stopped by their farm and thought I'd do some work on the drive. The kids have to walk through that mess to get to and from school. It's not safe. I stayed far away from the house so no one would know I was there, but the girls found me." Grady decided to leave out the part about the spades and gloves. He wasn't ready to admit that he'd hoped he'd be discovered. Instead, he told his grandparents how Gigi started opening up to him, how Lizzie stayed and helped, and how he felt like he was making great progress getting through their hardened shells.

  His grandparents exchanged a look of surprise. He went on to tell them about the girls having a disagreement, how he took them up to the house to get it sorted out, and the way everyone reacted when he yelled. Choking on his words, he gave up eating altogether when he told Gram and Gramps about how Mary instinctively tried to protect herself against a blow. Gram's face was ashen, and Gramps' mouth tightened in anger as Grady described the scene.

  He went on to tell them how he tried to explain things to Gigi and shared his uncertainty about whether or not he'd be accepted back. "I know I'm here to help y'all, and I don't plan on shirking those duties. Assuming they don't run me off with pitchforks, though, I'd like to be able to go over and spend an hour or two each day taking care of whatever little things I find around the place that need tending to."

  "Only problem I see," Gramps said, "is Mr. Fitzgerald. He won't take kindly to you being on his property, and you may get yourself shot."

  "What if he thinks I'm courting?"

  "Are you?" asked his grandmother.

  "No, but I want to find a way to make this work."

  Shaking her head, Gram said, "After the things he said to Mary at the picnic, I think anyone courting his daughter should expect trouble. Besides, such a guise would be both untruthful and entirely unfair to Mary."

  "Let's deal with that problem later," Gramps cut in. "I need to understand why you want to help them."

  "Gramps," Grady said in disbelief, "haven't you been listening? They need help."

  "I don't argue that," said Gramps, "but why is it your job to help?"

  Not sure where this conversation was going, Grady answered, "You of all people should understand this, Gramps. You taught me from the time I was little to do for others, to help when I see a need, and to look at more than a person's actions but to instead look at the heart behind their deeds. Their spirits are broken over there, they live daily in fear for their lives, and it seems like the law either can't or won't do anything about it. Somebody has to help them. Why is it my job to help? Tell me this – why isn't it my job to help?"

  Gramps set his fork down and gave Grady that hard see-clear-to-your-toes look he usually dusted off to use when someone was in trouble. Then he sat back in his chair and picked up his glass of iced tea. "Good answer, son. Jus' tryin' to make sure you're lookin' at this the right way."

  "Eat your dinner, Grady. Your grandfather and I can tell you a few things about the situation over there. Might as well eat your food 'fore it gets cold while you listen to us for a spell."

  Grady looked back and forth between the two and saw nothing but the love and kindness he'd come to expect from them. Nodding his head, he picked up his fork and began shoveling food into his mouth again while he listened.

  "Things weren't always so bad," Gramps began. "Mr. Fitzgerald was always a hard man, but his wife Emeline brought out the best in him. They were happy enough, or so it seemed. After she died, though, he changed. He stopped farming. Let the land get wild. Wouldn't let the kids go to church. Started spending a lot of time at the saloon drinking and gambling. Hanging out with men he should ha' never brought home to be around his kids."

  Gramps paused, and Gram stepped in, "Mary had to quit school to stay home and take care of the kids and the farm. Her pa made her. The teacher tried to put a stop to it, tried to reason with the man, but Mr. Fitzgerald was blind to reason and blind to the needs of his kids. Whether his wife's death did it or whether he was this mean before and none of us realized it, one thing is for sure. Anger has twisted his soul up tight. We used to see the young'uns out playing all the time, having fun, being kids. After their ma died, we didn't see them much anymore. They all stick close to Mary. Seems they feel safe with her."

  Jumping back into the conversation, Gramps said, "I've talked to the sheriff a few times 'bout what goes on over there. We've suspected he's
doin' a lot more than just disciplining his kids. The best we can figure, Mary protects the young'uns from him, but we can't be sure. Never seen any of the young'uns with bruises, leastways. Mary hides from prying eyes. It's hard to catch her out away from the house. Even going to the general store – she sends the young'uns to take care of everything in town, and she stays on the farm. We used to try to go over sometimes and bring bread or something as an excuse to check on them. Got chased off with a shotgun a few too many times, so we stopped."

  Gramps stared off into space, clearly struggling to get his emotions under control. Showing the evidence of years together, Gram stepped in and seamlessly continued, "We have some patches of wild berries that border between our properties. I've run into the kids there a couple of times over the past years. I always invite them up to the house and give them a big meal. They're skittish, so I try not to pry. Simply feed them and treat them kindlike, best I know how."

  Plucking at invisible dirt on her apron, Gram continued, "I've told them if they pick berries and bring me enough to make a pie, there'll be a meal in it for them. The boys came once. They kept looking around, like they'd done it on the sly and were afraid of getting caught. Fed them 'til they couldn't eat no more, and then I sent them home with some bread and cheese. That was toward the end of last summer. I hope to see them again this year. Been tryin' to plan a way to bump into them one of these days and mention it in passing, so they'll know the offer's still there."

  Gramps, in better control, picked up the conversation while Grady took his last bite of food. "That Mary's a smart one. When her pa started selling off everything, she took and hid some of the livestock." At Grady's raised eyebrows, he continued. "She took a cow and some laying hens out into the woods. It's still on their property, but a far back corner bordering ours. The kids and her built a lean-to for the cow and a pen for the hens. There was a ruckus out in the woods one day, not too long after Emeline passed, and I went to go investigate. Mary and the kids were trying to cart the cow and hens and having a lot of trouble. Imagine little Gigi, who was five then I think, hauling two hens in her arms." Gramps chuckled at the recollection. "I didn't interfere, and they never saw me."