Between One Heartbeat
and the Next: Part I

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

June, 1884, Stockton, California

"I’m thinking of hiring a girl to take care of the children while Marie is in San Francisco," said Jarrod, sipping his coffee. "Actually, I’d like to find a nanny, as we’ll be needing one, but for now…"

"No Jarrod, don’t! You don’t need to hire anyone. You know I love taking care of the children. Mother and I…"

"Audra, I appreciate what you and mother have done while Marie takes care of her parents, but it’s too much to ask, honey."

"Really Jarrod, as if taking care of my namesake could be too much," inserted Victoria. "And Jay is a darling. We can manage…"

The thought was left unfinished as Heath and Nick came in, sweaty, dusty, and totally unsuitable for any breakfast table. Except the Barkley’s.

"Boy howdy, give me a steak …and eggs…and some of that ham."

"Not before me, boy. I was already out on the north ridge working while you were still nice and warm in your bed."

"As I was saying," said Victoria, loudly and pointedly, "there’s really no need. Besides, where would you find someone? I can’t think of anyone that comes to mind good enough to take care of MY grandchildren." She smiled.

"You’re thinking of finding a stranger to take care of MY niece and nephew?" roared Nick.

"No, I’m looking for someone to take care of MY son and daughter."

"For once, I think Nick is right," piped up Audra.

"For once!" Nick glared.

Jarrod let out a prolonged and exaggerated sigh before he began again. "Audra, as I said, I appreciate all you’ve done. But two children under five and underfoot, —even with Silas pitching in, it’s too much, we need help. Plus, I don’t know how long Marie will be. They don’t even know what her parents have, and if it’s catching, well, it will be a while before she can come back. Besides, didn’t I hear you mention a party Saturday night?"

"Oh Jarrod, like I wouldn’t give up a little party for the children." She smiled her most winning smile, which usually got her what she wanted. Usually. Jarrod was difficult sometimes.

"And, young lady, what about the meeting of the Stockton Ladies’ Suffragist Movement on Friday? Shouldn’t the president be there?"

Audra looked a little troubled. "Well, we were going to discuss getting Susan B. Anthony to come here and speak. But really Jarrod, the women will understand if I’m needed at home."

"I thought that’s the whole point of meeting, to prove you could do more than stay at home," countered Jarrod, unable to let the hole in his sister’s argument go unchallenged before he could stop himself. We don’t need a lawyer at home, Marie had told him once.

"You call them women?" smirked Nick. "Just a bunch of old maids who can’t get hitched, eh, Heath?"

Heath kept his head lowered to his plate, only lifting his eyes. He gave an inarticulate grunt with food in his mouth, warily looking at Audra. Playing it down the middle and avoiding the fireworks.

"You are a Neanderthal, Nick Barkley," started Audra. "You…"

"…are a regular archeological wonder," finished Gene, coming into the dining room.

"Well, look who we have here. Did we wake you from your beauty sleep, Dr. Barkley?" said Nick.

"Hey, I remember when Jarrod returned from law school. He usually didn’t show his face until noon."

"Ah, my lad, I was out late championing the poor and downtrodden," said Jarrod.

"Well, I was out ministering to the sick," said Eugene.

"Oh please. I’m not going to be able to finish breakfast if you all keep this up," said Nick.

"That’ll be the day," muttered Heath.

"You know, Jarrod, if you’re serious about getting someone right away, I was in town yesterday," interrupted Victoria, "There’s a new photography studio that just opened—where Hedda’s old millinery shop used to be. Very nice people and the photographs they have displayed are good. I actually thought we might have a family picture taken there. And they have a daughter, about 18. They didn’t actually say so, but I think they could use a little extra money. Maybe the daughter could come. She seems like a lovely girl…"

"What’s their name," said Nick, a suspicious look crossing his face.

"They’re from Germany—at least the parents are. Hoffman, Simon Hoffman, and.."

"THEY’RE JEWISH," shouted Nick.

Everyone froze.

Victoria slowly raised her fork. "Yes Nick, and you’re point is…"

"My point is, they’re Jews!

"So what, Nick," said Eugene.

"So what! I’ll tell you so what. They’re Jews!. They’re…evil."

"Oh Nick, honestly, how can you say something like that? Where did you get such a ridiculous idea?" said Victoria, exasperated.

"Zeke told me. He was warning us just the other day that he heard Jews were in town."

"Nick, for crying out loud!" said Jarrod sharply. "Zeke, that old fool. Remember when he told you that Indians eat their children? Bad enough you hire him when he comes through every year, but listening to him? You know better."

"You weren’t at services this Sunday, Jarrod. Reverend Carson said all good Christians should shun Jews. He warned us that they were in our midst."

Everyone was silent.

Finally, Eugene spoke. "I wasn’t there, Nick, but I’m sorry he said that. I don’t think I shall ever go to his church again. It’s just ignorance. My God, I see it every day. Ignorance causes more pain than all the diseases in the world combined! People are all the same Nick. Once you see them without their clothes, without their trappings, they’re just people. Usually scared and vulnerable, underneath. And they fear what they don’t know. Then they hate it. It’s just ignorance."

"We need to get you off the ranch and out in the world more often, big brother," said Heath.

"I don’t know, the Reverend DID say that," said Audra uncertainly.

Victoria shook her head. "I’ve had more than a few misgivings about Reverend Carson since he came. We may be changing congregations."

"Nick, remember those gypsies that came through here? You had pretty strong opinions about them, too," said Jarrod.

"Alright, Jarrod, alright. I guess I never met one, so I don’t know. I just don’t know."

"Nick, Audra--if I invite this girl to take care of Jay and Victoria Marie, I have to know you won’t say anything to hurt her."

"Of course, Jarrod, I’m sorry, I would never say anything, but still…," said Audra.

"Why can’t you find someone else to take care of them? And not just because they’re Jews. We don’t even know this family. Why can’t you get someone you know?" said Nick.

"Because in this family, we believe in people unless we have a reason not to," said Victoria. "And if you’re finished, Jarrod, I think I will accompany you into town."

"I’ll go relieve Silas, and take care of the children," said Audra.

"Need to check on the new stock," said Heath, rising.

Eugene and Nick sat facing each other. They ate in silence briefly.

"I’m sorry, Nick; I guess I’m getting pompous as Jarrod; I certainly have picked up his ability to lecture others, huh?"

"I’m used to you college boys. Never mind." He shrugged, then considered. "Actually, don’t flatter yourself. You’re not quite as pompous, but I suppose you’re young, you’ll catch up in time."

They ate without saying anything again.

"You know, there’s more to being smart than book learning."

"I know Nick, I’m sorry, I never meant to imply you weren’t smart, or knowledgeable for that matter. I know how busy you are running the ranch is all. There’s just some things you haven’t seen, that I have."

"Hrrhmph." Nick shifted uneasily.

"You know Nick, you’re a great big brother. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be dead on the playground long ago, what with all the teasing I took, until you put an end to it."

"I knew I’d live to regret it, Squirt."

"Bonehead."

Nick threw his napkin at Eugene, who ducked as he laughed. Nick laughed too.

A small bell tinkled as Jarrod opened the door for Victoria. The Hoffman Photography studio was small, filled mostly with a large stage and a camera on a tripod. Many photos were mounted on the wall for display. Jarrod looked at them as Victoria called for Mr. Hoffman. The photos caught Jarrod’s attention. They weren’t like most family photos. Most pictures showed people standing stiffly, with serious expressions, looking straight ahead. Somehow, Mr. Hoffman had captured more. A hint of a smile gave a glimpse of someone with a sense of humor. A mother looked sideways at her children, with love in her eyes. A tired miner looked, well—more than physically tired.

A thin, slight man came from behind the curtains that blocked the next room. When he saw Victoria, his face lit up, and he held out his hands.

"Ach, my kind friend, Mrs. Barkley," he said. He had a long, intelligent face.

"Mr. Hoffman, how good to see you again. This is my son, Jarrod."

"Ah, the lawyer? It is good to meet you."

"You know I’m a lawyer?"

"Yes, your mother and I, we talked about our children, no?"

"Yes, we did, Mr. Hoffman, we…"

"Please, Mrs. Barkley, you will call me Simon, no? We are friends, are we not?"

"Alright, Simon, but only if you’ll call me Victoria."

"Very good, very good, I will be delighted. You would like some tea, no? Sophy, please come, our friends the Barkleys are here. They have come for tea."

"Oh no, Simon, we don’t want to impose," said Victoria as Mrs. Hoffman came through the back doorway. While her husband was all angles, she was all curves. A round and soft woman with gray hair. Jarrod’s mouth fell open as he looked into her eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, huge and black. She smiled and nodded. She had seen his momentary faux pas, yet he didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt, well, understood.

"Actually, Simon, we were wondering if you might be able to help us out. Jarrod’s wife is in San Francisco, taking care of her parents. My grandchildren are at my home, but they are a handful! I thought maybe if you could spare your daughter…"

"It would be an honor to help you, my good friend. She will come for an evening or so?"

"I know it’s a lot to ask, especially on such short notice, Simon, but if she could stay at our house for a few days, in addition to meals and her own room, we will pay…"

"No! Not pay. Friends do not pay friends. I am sure she will be happy to help you. But she has never been away from home for the night, she’s never been away from us for that long. I’m not sure ..."

"What does the lady herself have to say?" asked Jarrod.

"She will be happy, I think. If only to get out of the studio and have company other than us," said Mrs. Hoffman, speaking for the first time. Her voice was soft and melodious, "But let me get her."

"Simon, we really would insist on paying," said Victoria.

"No, please Victoria, there is no more to be said on that subject."

Mrs. Hoffman returned to the room, followed by her daughter.

"Rachel, look who has come, our friend Mrs. Barkley, and her son."

For the second time that day, Jarrod’s mouth fell open as he looked at Rachel Hoffman. He had seen his share of lovely and pretty women. Why, he even married the prettiest! But this woman, this woman was beautiful. The sort of beauty that happens once in a generation—the kind of beauty that’s almost painful to look at, because it doesn’t seem possible, or human. Translucent skin, and those black, luminous eyes. She seemed ethereal.

She, like her mother, smiled at Jarrod. To assure him she was real. As if she knew he thought otherwise.

"Yes papa?"

"Child, you remember Mrs. Barkley? This is her son, Mr. Jarrod, the lawyer."

"Yes papa, of course. How wonderful you’ve come again." Her voice was deep and throaty.

Mr. Hoffman explained the Barkley’s problem. Rachel looked at Victoria, then settled her attention back on Jarrod.

"Yes papa, you are right. I would be happy to help you, Mr. Barkley. But I will need a little time to get ready—I’ve never been away from home before, not overnight; I’ll need a little time. When would you need me to come?"

Jarrod actually stuttered. "Well, I, I, I’m not exactly, er…"

Victoria covered for her usually polished and urbane son. "Would you be able to come Friday, say after dinner? Jarrod could come to pick you up? This is so very good of you, when we hardly know each other. We wouldn’t ask, except we really do need the help, and I thought it would give us an opportunity to get to know you better. But Rachel, dear, if you change your mind, we will understand, especially since you’ve never been away from home. And I know what an inconvenience this must be…"

"A friend never inconveniences a friend, no?" said Rachel, smiling, mocking her father. But when she said it, it didn’t sound disrespectful, just teasing and full of love.

Jarrod still could not find his tongue.

"Besides, how can you say we don’t know you? Everyone knows you. When you come to Stockton, the first thing you learn about is the Barkleys," said Rachel.

"We were honored and grateful you chose to visit us so soon after we opened," added Mrs. Hoffman.

"Thank you, all of you. Simon, and Sophy, is it? I’ll treat her as one of my own. You must know that," said Victoria

"Of course Mrs. Barkley…Victoria. Now, you will please have tea with us, no?"

As she followed the Hoffmans through the curtain, Victoria saw Rachel smile again at Jarrod. For a moment, she felt she made a mistake. Rarely had she seen Jarrod flustered. And his marriage still so new. And Marie so spoiled. Victoria knew that while Marie was making sure she hired the best doctors, nurses, and servants to take care of her parents, she, herself, would never sit at the bedside. Yes, Marie could get Jarrod to laugh even when he was in his deepest doldrums, and she was a good mother, as long as it didn’t interfere with what she wanted to do. Still, Victoria had seen no evidence of their not getting along. Jarrod had turned into a doting husband, just as he had become a doting parent. Well, what happened between two people in the marriage bed—you never knew. She realized Rachel was looking at her. As she looked into those huge eyes, the girl smiled. A sweet, innocent smile. As if to tell Victoria that she needn’t worry. Victoria smiled back, feeling foolish. Jarrod was the soul of honor--how could she think such thoughts! Then she smiled a more knowing smile. Wait until Nick saw his first Jewish person.

As they went into the back rooms that the Hoffmans used as their living quarters, both Victoria and Jarrod realized that somehow, they would have to find a way to reimburse them. Their surroundings offered proof that photography was not a lucrative profession. Jarrod made a mental note to ask his mother if maybe they could give them some of their older furniture, especially that red velvet settee. At the very least. Nick and Heath refused to sit on it, afraid they would break it, and Audra said it made all her clothes looked horrid. But then he felt guilty, realizing how self-serving that was, and also knowing that the Hoffmans wouldn’t accept charity in any case.

After the Barkleys left, Mrs. Hoffman sent Rachel into the darkroom to check the chemicals.

"Simon, you are sure it will be safe to send her, our treasure, to be with these people?" she said.

"Sophy, yes, I think we have kept her too long to ourselves. She needs to be with young people. And the Barkleys, they are the finest family; we should be happy."

"But you know what happens when men see her…"

"I don’t think we need to worry, libchen. Mrs. Barkley is a strong woman. She is fair, but she is also a Gentile. She will not allow her boys to fall in love with a Jewess."

"And if she falls in love with one of them?"

"We cannot live our lives worried about "what if" Sophy. We left Berlin not knowing for sure if America would be good to us. We left New York not knowing if there would be any of our kind here. Still, we move ahead, because maybe life will be better." He hugged his wife. "And when the time comes, when we are more settled, then we will look for someone for Rachel."

"An arranged marriage, Simon? These Americans, they don’t do that anymore. Rachel may want to pick her own husband!"

"We were an arranged marriage, Sophy. And could we be any happier?"

"Still Simon, what if she meets someone?"

"Then we will worry about it then, not now when we have nothing to worry about, no?"

Jarrod felt his ire rise as he pulled up to the Hoffman studio. Zeke Johnson lurked nearby with a few of his cronies, in the alley next to the Hoffman’s. They were passing around a bottle in a sack. At least none of the Hoffmans are out front, Jarrod thought.

"What are you doing here, Zeke," Jarrod said as he approached the idling bunch. He said it with a studied calm that would worry anyone who knew him well.

"It’s a free country, don’t see that it’s any of your business, Barkley" said Zeke. One of his buddies snickered.

"That’s MISTER Barkley to you. Why don’t you and your ‘friends’ move along…NOW."

"What’s it to you? You can’t tell me nuthin. You ain’t the boss of me, not on a Friday night. Besides, I ain’t done nuthin wrong." Zeke seemed genuinely bewildered, but given his mental equipment, that was not surprising.

"I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. Get back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

Zeke suddenly looked more alert, as if a light, however dim, had gone on. "You’re looking out for them there Jews, ain’t you! Jew-lover!"

In one motion Jarrod grabbed Zeke’s front collar and shoved him up against the building. Although they were approximately the same height and build, Jarrod had the advantage of soberness and righteousness. He slammed Zeke against the building. Zeke’s buddies backed away. Jarrod pushed Zeke again for good measure, then stood back. Before Zeke could gather his few wits to say anything, Jarrod pulled out his billfold and stuffed some bills into Zeke’s shirt pocket.

"That should be about all we owe you. I don’t ever want to see you on Barkley property again, and I don’t want to see you within one hundred yards of the Hoffmans. You got that, Zeke?"

"What’d I do? I ain’t done nuthin wrong. You can’t fire me! And you can’t tell me what to do on my time off!"

"I most certainly can fire you. And since I’m getting a restraining order for you to stay away from the Hoffmans, you may as well get used to it now."

"I’m losing my job because of some damn Jews?" Zeke was more incredulous than angry, but only for a moment.

"Move Johnson. Now. I don’t want to see you around here, ever again."

Zeke glared at Jarrod, refusing to submit. One of his buddies tapped him on the shoulder. "C’mon Zeke, I’ll buy ya a drink. Let’s get outta here." After all, Zeke was okay to hang around with, but he wasn’t worth getting in trouble over. Realizing he was about to be abandoned, Zeke lowered his eyes and turned towards his friends.

"Damn Jews, it’s all their fault, they’ll be sorry, I’ll see to that, damn it and damn you too, Barkley." Jarrod could hear Zeke muttering as he walked away.

At least the Hoffmans hadn’t seen or heard anything thought Jarrod, turning.

Rachel Hoffman, beautiful in a bottle-green dress, stood there quietly, observing.

"I’m sorry, Miss Hoffman, I hope those louts haven’t been disturbing you."

"Oh, we’re used to it. So many people hate photographers."

Jarrod gave her a startled glance—could she not know? Was it possible? Then he caught her smile. He smiled in return.

"Come in, please, Mr. Barkley. My father and mother would like to say hello before I leave."

The Hoffmans waved good-bye to their beloved only child; Mrs. Hoffman in tears and Mr. Hoffman just barely able to hold his back. It was one thing to think about your daughter leaving, another to actually see it. Rachel kissed them both, then Jarrod helped her into the carriage.

"We’ll see that she is well taken care of," assured Jarrod, realizing that as a family, the Hoffmans had only each other. They probably didn’t trust anyone; what a chance they were taking, Jarrod thought humbly.

"So tell me about your children," said Rachel as she turned around from waving a last good-bye.

"Ah, my favorite subject. There’s Jay—really, his name is Jarrod, Jr. But his little sister couldn’t manage that," Jarrod smiled fondly, then confided, "Nick, my younger brother, couldn’t manage Jarrod either when he was her age, so he used to call me Jay, too. Jay’s almost five now. He’s a serious little guy. I don’t think you will find him difficult. Then there’s Victoria Marie. Three years old and already ruling the nursery—and her big brother."

Rachel laughed. "Her father too?" She turned to smile at this man of quiet authority, a man she was sure was seldom disobeyed.

"Well, yes, I have to admit it," he smiled, then turned thoughtful. "It’s hard, though, I never thought it would be this hard. I want to do the right thing, and I was so sure I would know what that would be," Jarrod suddenly found himself confessing. He was surprised to hear these words out loud, words he had never confided in Marie or his mother, yet somehow he wanted to tell this young girl with the beautiful, understanding eyes. "I can give them everything they want. I have it in my power to do that for them. And I can’t seem to deny them anything. But I know that’s not good for them."

"Little ones need to know that their parents can take care of them and provide them with what they need," said Rachel slowly. "When they get older, and understand the world a little more, then maybe it’s time to teach them, Mr. Barkley."

"But when do you start? How old is old enough? And if I indulge them, then suddenly stop, won’t that hurt them more? I’m so afraid of doing something that will hurt them."

"Some children, no matter how strict their parents are, seem to grow up selfish and willful, and others, with weak, indulgent parents, grow up generous, don’t you think? Sometimes even in the same family. What about your family, Mr. Barkley? You and your brothers and sister were raised the same. Yet I bet you are all different now."

"Yes, you’re right."

"Maybe there’s something more than what parents do. My parents tell me I am very like my mother’s mother—the way I move, the way I talk. But she died before I was born. So how could I know? What our parents do probably affect us much less than we think"

"But I want them to grow up to be happy, responsible adults. I want them to be able to handle difficulties and frustrations. I don’t want them to think everything has to be their way," Like my wife, he almost added.

"I’m sure they’ll be fine, Mr. Barkley. Your children will live up to what you expect of them. People usually do"

Jarrod didn’t say anything for a moment. Marie’s parents had not expected much of her. Maybe if he tried to make her understand what his expectations were. Maybe if the children understood what was expected of them. Yes, maybe. Jarrod felt lighter and happier than he had since—well, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relieved. But he also felt both a little self-conscious and a little guilty for confiding in this girl he hardly knew. Strange, he had never done such a thing before. He always liked to think of himself as a counselor who kept his own counsel. Well, enough of his problems. He felt his usual composure come back.

"So tell me, Miss Hoffman, you grew up in New York City? Did you enjoy it?"

The rest of the ride was passed in pleasant and polite conversation.

It was late. Heath was surprised all the lights were on inside, but didn’t say anything to Nick. Nick threw his hat at the hat rack as he strode through the front door. Heath followed behind, picking up Nick’s hat and hanging it next to his own. Because he also turned to shut the door, Nick was already in the parlor as Heath entered. Jarrod and Victoria were having coffee. With a guest.

"What are you still doing up?" said Nick, looking at his mother. Then he noticed someone else in the chair to his right.

Rachel stood up to greet him. "You must be Nick Barkley, I’ve heard about you! I’m Rachel Hoffman." She held out her hand.

Nick’s eyes widened. "Hel-lo," he said, with a special emphasis on the "lo." Then he didn’t know what to say.

Rachel turned to Heath.

"Hello, I’m Heath." Heath said it in the simple, disarming way he used around beautiful women, and smiled his simple, disarming smile. It always had an effect.

"How do you do," said Rachel, smiling back at him, charmed, as she was supposed to be. But as Heath looked deeper in her eyes, he realized she knew she was supposed to be charmed, and was charmed by the attempt, not the effect. For the first time in a long time, he felt uncomfortable. Then he smiled, this time more to himself than the girl. He liked women who understood him and who he could understand. But this one, well this one was out of his league. Better to just set back and have fun--watching Nick.

"I’ve, I, uh, I’ve heard about you too," Nick was saying lamely.

"Really? Kind things, I hope?" She laughed her mesmerizing, throaty laugh.

"Well, yeah, sure, nice things, of course nice things!" he said, with more than a little defiance creeping into his tone.

She looked at him then, with great kindness, without accusation. Nick knew she knew the things he had said. He opened his mouth to cover himself, but shut it. He had already said too much. The best thing he could do now was absolutely nothing. Which surprised him. He had never had that reaction before.

"Well, I think we’ve kept the young lady up far too long. She’s already had a dose of the youngest Barkleys, and she still needs to unpack. I’m sorry if we’ve been inconsiderate," said Jarrod.

Before Rachel could reply, Victoria got up and put her arm around Rachel’s waist. "Yes, we’ve been most inconsiderate. And I promised your father we would take good care of you! Let me walk up with you."

Rachel turned and said good night. Three very male voices echoed the same back to her. Nick plopped himself down on the red velvet settee, not caring if the tiny little legs held his weight or not.

Eugene was glad no one was at the breakfast table as he came down. He just wasn’t up for the ribbing he would have been sure to receive, coming down this late. Not that he felt guilty. He was finally home. It seemed as if he had been away forever. The constant pressures of medical school, then his "apprenticeships," studying with the most renowned physicians in the country, followed by a year in Europe. It was just good to be home, with nothing to do. No one needing him, nothing expected of him. Just visiting old friends and making new ones. He smiled as he recalled the new one last night. Miss Judy, he believed was her name. By the time he had a second cup of coffee and some eggs and toast, he was feeling much better. He decided to pop in and see his niece and nephew in the nursery.

The nursery door was ajar, so he walked right in, expecting little Vicky and Jay to come flying. Although he hadn’t been home long, he had made it a point to know them and let them become as familiar with him as they were with the rest of the family. He knew he had become their favorite uncle. He also knew Heath and Nick thought they were the favorite uncles.

He stood in the doorway. The children were in front of a woman, who was sitting on the floor, her back to Eugene. He smiled to himself—looking at them, there could be no doubt they were Barkleys—they had Jarrod’s dark hair and blue eyes, almost as if his sister-in-law, with her honey brown hair and milky green eyes had had nothing to do with their creation. The children were listening to the woman, enthralled. Jay had his tongue hanging out the side of is mouth; Vicky lay on her tummy with her chin in both hands, eyes wide.

"’GRRRR, GRRRR!’ said the tigers. Little Black Sambo said, ‘If you want them, say so, or I’ll take them back.’ The tigers still would not let go of each other’s tails, so they only said, ‘GRRRRR, GRRRRR!’ So Little Black Sambo put on all his fine clothes and walked away. The tigers ran faster and faster. They ran so fast that they all melted away and there was nothing left but a pool of melted butter around the foot of the tree. Black Jumbo was coming home from work just then, carrying a big brass pot. ‘Oh!’ he said. ‘What lovely butter! I’ll take it home for Black Mumbo to cook with.’ And wasn’t Black Mumbo pleased when she saw the butter! ‘Now,’ she said, ‘we’ll have pancakes for supper.’ So she made the pancakes and fried them in the melted butter until they were as yellow and brown as little tigers. Then they sat down to supper. Black Mumbo ate twenty-seven pancakes and Black Jumbo at fifty-five pancakes. But Little Black Sambo ate one-hundred and sixty nine, because he was so hungry!"

Vicky sat up and clapped in delight, while Jay asked, "Why would they eat pancakes for supper?’ then he boasted, "I bet I could eat two hundred pancakes, Miss Hoffman!"

"I bet you could," laughed the woman. Vicky was running around making tiger noises, charging at Jay.

Tigers! Hmph. Eugene could actually feel his nose going out of joint. He doubted the children had ever seen a tiger. And still, they didn’t notice him. He liked to think his visits were the high point of their day.

Already, he didn’t like this woman, this interloper. Although she did have a beautiful voice, and her straight, silky black hair, which was pulled back in a partial bun, seemed to be a living thing. No, he hardened his heart, he just wasn’t going to like her.

Then she turned around.

Eugene’s long medical training held him in good stead. He had looked upon pus-filled wounds with concern, never for a moment letting his face betray the disgust he felt. He had smelled the stench of bodies that hadn’t been washed in months, never letting the vomit he felt in the back of his throat come up. He had heard the most terrible secrets of the heart, told to him in the confidence of a doctor’s visit, and never shown disapproval.

So now he was able to smile calmly while controlling every sinew of his body, not showing the sudden, overwhelming desire he felt for this woman.

"Uncle Eugene!" both the children raced to him, jumping in front of Rachel, who was getting to her feet. Vicky held up her arms to be picked up, which Gene obligingly did, as he tousled Jay’s hair.

"Dr. Barkley! How nice to finally meet you. I think I’ve met all the Barkleys now, hmm, I met Miss Barkley at breakfast this morning, so you were the last. How do you do? I’m Rachel Hoffman." She took the hand he managed to offer.

And for the first time, Rachel Hoffman was intrigued. A face she couldn’t read. A person she couldn’t understand immediately. He was polite. And closed.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Hoffman, I…"

"Uncle Eugene, have you ever seen a tiger? It goes like this, GRRRRRRRRR," yelled Vicky in his ear.

Eugene put her down. "Yes, I did, once, in a zoo. Which is where you belong," laughed Eugene. Vicky clung to his hand. Jay, seeing this, grabbed his other hand.

"Please call me Gene. I’m still not used to being called Dr. Barkley, at least not in my home," said Gene easily.

"Are you sure, Dr. Barkley? You must have worked so long and so hard to be called that. It is a sign of respect. Really, you should insist," said Rachel.

"Respect? For me? In my home? You have a lot to learn about the Barkleys, Miss Hoffman." Eugene laughed again. Rachel couldn’t help but smile back.

"Then please, you must call me Rachel."

"Done! Rachel, will you please help get these little monkeys off of me?"

Vicky burst into a fit of giggles. "What type of noises do monkeys make, Miss Hoffman?"

"I don’t know, I’ve never been to a zoo. Why don’t you ask your uncle?"

Eugene didn’t hesitate for a moment. "Uga, uga, uga," he mimicked, taking deep breaths in and out. Then he knelt down so his hands were close to the ground, and started chasing the children. Vicky started screaming, while Jay began laughing so hard, Eugene knew a trip to the water closet had to follow soon.

Rachel picked up on the situation too. "Come with me, Jay," she said, leading him from the room.

"Uncle Gene, do you like Miss Hoffman? She’s pretty!" said Vicky, when she was alone with her uncle.

"Yes, Vicky, very much. I hope you’ll be a good girl so she’ll stay with us a long time," answered her uncle, feeling a little stuffy as soon as he said it. As the youngest child, he had been subject to many "be a good boy" speeches. He started tickling her as a way to make amends.

Heath and Nick were riding along the north ridge. Heath spotted them first: Rachel with his niece and nephew under the few shade trees that grew there. Rachel seemed to be reading to them; nearby lay a picnic basket. Nick saw them too. "Well, well, well," was all he said, as he steered his horse towards the trees.

"Nick, leave them alone, they’re busy. They don’t need an old cowboy poking his nose in where it doesn’t belong."

"Who you calling old, boy?" Nick sat up straighter. "You coming?"

"Naw, like I said, they’re busy. Leave them alone, Nick."

"I just want to see my niece and nephew. What’s wrong with that? What kind of uncle wouldn’t go visiting? So, c’mon."

"No, Nick, I’ve got to check on the west pasture. You should too."

"In good time, my boy, all in good time."

Heath shook his head as he rode away. The girl still made him uneasy. Plus, he had seen Nick make a fool of himself enough times as it was.

Nick rode up quietly. As he approached, he saw that the children were almost asleep. He stopped Coco at a distance, then walked with him towards the little group.

"Hope I’m not disturbing you ma’am," he said, bringing out his best western manners.

"Of course not. Actually, I welcome the company, Mr. Barkley. As you can see, my reading material isn’t exactly exciting!" She nodded towards the two sleeping children.

"Probably their nap time anyway, isn’t it?" said Nick.

She nodded. He sat down beside her. She looked out over the landscape to the mountains in the distance.

"You’re very lucky, Mr. Barkley. You have a lovely home—a beautiful ranch."

Nick glanced at her, then looked away.

"Yeah, I love it, always have. But you know, just lately, I’ve been thinking, there’s so much I’ve never seen. All I really know is this corner of the world. My brothers and my sister, they’ve been everywhere. Eugene and Audra have been to Europe, and Jarrod and Heath have been just about everywhere across America."

"But Mr. Barkley, you’ve been here working hard, making it possible for all of them to go off and have their adventures. If it wasn’t for you, none of them could have left."

Nick smiled, feeling good about himself for the first time since he had heard the name Hoffman.

"S’that so?"

"Yes, absolutely. And you know, not that I’m really well-traveled, but I have moved from New York to California, and out of all the places I’ve seen, this valley is the most beautiful. Why would you want to leave? When you get right down to it, most places are pretty much the same, unless it’s the place you call home, Mr. Barkley."

"Now, why don’t you call me Nick," he said in a caressing tone.

Just then Jay woke up.

"Uncle Nick!" said Jay loudly and happily. That woke up Vicky.

"Uncle Nick?" she said sleepily. "Hold me!" she demanded imperiously. Nick smiled as he scooped her up. Honestly, sometimes he thought this child was more his daughter than Jarrod’s. She promptly fell back to sleep in his arms.

Without being asked, Jay started cleaning up their lunch. Then he began picking up after his sister. Something he would for the rest of his life, thought Rachel. She got up to help him, while Nick continued to hold Vicky.

Two weeks later:

The children had just been put down for the night. The rest of the family was in the billiards room. Rachel took this opportunity to go to the new conservatory that the Barkleys had recently built. The full moon filled the room with silver-white light, and the scent of the rare and exotic flowers Mrs. Barkley kept was wonderful. Someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned and faced Eugene.

"Of all the improvements to the house and land my family made while I was gone, this is my favorite."

"I never thought I would be in such a place. I never even knew such places existed."

"That surprises me Rachel. You always seem to know."

"Know what?"

"You just know. Like you have an old soul that’s lived a long time."

Rachel just smiled. In the moonlight, Gene could see the two dark, slanted pools of her eyes, and pink lips. Waiting? Or did he just hope? For now, he would hope. She was a guest in his mother’s home. She deserved his protection. Nothing less.

Rachel raised her fingers to his lips, tracing them. Her hands glided down to his chin and neck, then back up to his ears.

"Rachel, please, I’m a gentleman. If you keep doing this, I can’t promise I’ll remain one."

Rachel stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his.

Gene brought his mouth down over hers as he crushed her body into him. His tongue explored her mouth, but only for a moment.

She was shaking, trembling violently.

He held her at arm’s length. "Rachel, what is it?"

She was shaking with mirth. She was trying to keep from laughing out loud, but couldn’t succeed.

"What’s so funny?" Gene asked, hurt pride showing a little. Still, he wanted to be gentle, and he HAD just taken advantage of her.

She sat down in one of the white wicker love seats that were scattered throughout.

"It just seems funny, another tongue in my mouth that’s not my own."

He smiled then, at her innocence. It was hard to remember that she didn’t know everything, she just seemed to. Then he, too, started laughing. It was pretty funny when you thought about it.

He sat down next to her. "I’m sorry Rachel. I had no right…"

This time Rachel turned to him, and put her tongue into his mouth….

Continue to Part II
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