Free Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] by With Hope Page A

from the city. That one had the makings of a
tramp
if he ever saw one.
    A few of the women had asked him about his wife. He’d brought out the lame old excuse that she didn’t feel well. Maybe she didn’t. She’d still been in bed when he dressed himself and Jay and left the house. He would have found an excuse not to bring her even if she had wanted to come.
    It seemed to Tom that Emmajean became more and more unstable as time went by. Last night she’d thrown a dipper of water in Jay’s face, then later when she tried to hold him on her lap, he had screamed. It had infuriated her. She held on to him tightly, and Tom’d had to pry her arms loose from the terrified child.
    In the saner light of day, Tom usually felt as if he could cope with the problems life had dealt him. It was at night, lying on the cot in the kitchen, that he was acutely aware that not only was his son deprived of a mother, he himself was deprived of a wife.
    * * *
    Henry Ann thought the afternoon would never end. She had been shooed out of the kitchen by Aunt Dozie and a couple of neighbor women who were washing the empty bowls and platters and arranging them on the table so the owners could pick them up as they were leaving. When Aunt Dozie whispered that the little boy should use the chamber pot, Henry Ann lifted him from the high chair. He went with her willingly.
    She took him to her room and closed the door. The minute she brought out the pot the child looked up at her and said, “Pee, pee.”
    Henry Ann unbuttoned his overalls. “Can you do it by yourself?”
    “I big boy.”
    “Of course, you are.” She positioned him over the pot and was surprised at how well he handled himself. When he finished, he looked up at her with a pleased smile, clearly expecting praise. “You
are
a big boy.”
    “I Daddy’s big boy.”
    “I can see that.” She buttoned his clothes. “Shall we go outside for a while?”
    The child looked at her with large dark eyes so like his father’s. The parallel between her life and that of this child suddenly came into focus. Her daddy had been both parents to her when her mother left. Mr. Dolan was trying to be both parents to his son. What in the world was the matter with the mother of this child?
    If this little boy was mine, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.
    A yearning for a husband and children of her own came over her. She was twenty-four years old. Considered an old maid by some. Karen was the only girl she knew anywhere near her age who hadn’t married and had a child or two. Well, she’d never tie herself to any man unless she was absolutely sure that he was everything that she believed him to be.
    * * *
    “Mr. Dolan?”
    Tom was jarred into awareness by the minister who had conducted the funeral services. He stood and held out his hand to the short, gray-haired man.
    “Tom Dolan.”
    “Reverend Wesson.” The man’s hand was soft, but his grip firm. “We haven’t met, but my daughter told me about meeting you . . . and your young son.”
    “I heard her sing this morning. She has a beautiful voice.” The men sat back down on the bench.
    “Yes, she does.” There was pride in the minister’s voice. “She says you’re a mechanic.”
    “Among other things.”
    “I’ve got an old Whippet—”
    “Whippet Six was a good car. They were among the first to have a seven-bearing crankshaft, full force-feed lubrication, and four-wheel brakes. I’m not sure they’re making them anymore.”
    “I see you know your cars. This one is a 1916 model.”
    “I’ve not seen that model in years. It would be hard to find parts.”
    “I’d sure like to put the old girl back in running order.”
    “Why? It’ll probably cost you more than you’ll ever get out of it.”
    “Sentimental, I guess. She served me well. I hate to see her going to the junk pile.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Will you take a look at her and tell me what she needs?”
    “I’ll be glad to take a look. It’s impossible