Wanted: A Family Read Online Free

morning. Tackle the porch during the heat of the day.”
    â€œDo as you think best.”
    A flicker of surprise skidded across his face. That boss at the construction company must’ve been a stickler.
    â€œI’ll bring your dinner out at noon. Wait a minute.” She walked inside, grabbed a fruit jar with a galvanized lid from the kitchen. “It’s going to be a scorcher. Fill this or you’ll wear yourself out making trips to the pump.”
    He took the jar and tipped his hat. “Much obliged.”
    â€œTake care on that roof. It’s steep.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” His eyes sobered. “I will.”
    He strapped on a pouch of nails and stuck the hammer under his belt, then leaned the ladder against the back of the house, making adjustments until he had it centered to suit him. Before she could steady it, he’d grabbed an armload of shingles and scrambled to the top and out onto the roof. As he clomped up the incline, she held her breath and then slowly released it, noticing his confidence and agility.
    And the way his back muscles rippled through his shirt.
    At the unwelcome response to the man, her cheeks burned. With her hands full to overflowing and no idea where she’d get the money to take her and Elise through the winter, how could she keep noticing a man’s muscles, a drifter at that?
    Her father-in-law would say only a no-account man chose to work for room and board, instead of settling down with a good-paying job.
    Callie shivered. Jacob Smith had been closed-mouthed. Was he running from something? Or to something?
    Whatever his motive for coming to Peaceful, she didn’t need another complication in her life. How long before he could get the work done and leave?
    Couldn’t be soon enough to suit her.
    Â 
    Sweat stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, Jake pulled a nail from the pouch and fastened a shingle in place. He yanked a handkerchief from his hip pocket, threadedit under the crown of his wide-brimmed hat, then plunked it on his head.
    Laying shingles in this unseasonable heat was hard, dirty work, but he welcomed the exertion, liked being in control. Control he’d lost in jail, but needed badly. A man felt alive when he pushed the limits of his endurance. Afterward, his muscles might ache, but nothing equaled the satisfaction of repairing something broken. If it sometimes ate at him that remodeling houses came as close as he’d get to a home of his own, he forced the thought away. No reason to expect anything more. He had no interest in forming a family.
    Every half hour like clockwork, Mrs. Mitchell came out to check on him. No doubt scared he’d break his neck. Not that he blamed her, considering what happened to her husband. If she knew how at ease he felt perched on this roof, she’d worry less.
    He liked the expanse, the sense of freedom, the clear view of nearby gardens with slender rows of leaf lettuce and green onions. A few patches overgrown with dead pumpkin vines and cornstalks bordered red barns, whitewashed sheds and outhouses, all tucked behind clapboard houses.
    Did one of these homes hide the woman who’d given him birth?
    Not his mother. A mother took care of her child. Fed him. Tucked him into bed at night.
    Or so he understood.
    But one thing he knew—a mother didn’t toss her baby away like an unwanted trinket. Clenching his jaw, he slammed the hammer into the head of the nail, driving it in place. He wanted that woman to know the price he’d paid for her negligence. The orphanage had provided the basics to sustain life, but no affection, no encouragement, no joy, merely existence.
    She sent a yearly birthday greeting to the orphanage addressed to Jacob, not even using his last name, as if Smith was a lie. Those cards didn’t diminish her desertion. Merely proved she knew his location yet never bothered to see him. Never bothered to reveal his roots. Never bothered to make sure he