Emma's Wish

by Margery Scott

  "I'll head on over to the feed store and pick up our supplies, then I'm going down to the telegraph office," Sam said, his gaze shifting to the whitewashed building near the end of Charity's main street. "There should be word from Catherine's parents. I expect it won't be anything I want to hear, but I might as well get it over with."

  "Perhaps they won't be too upset the children aren't coming after all."

  Sam gave her a wry grin and shook his head. "Upset isn't exactly the word I'd use. They'll be downright furious. When I wrote to ask them to take the kids, I could almost see their faces when they opened the telegram. They've been trying to get control of them since the day they were born. They won't be pleased to lose again."

  "I'm sorry you're going to take the brunt of their anger, but I won't say I'm not happy with how things have turned out."

  Sam had to admit he was happy, too. In the week since their wedding, he'd managed to get more work done than he had in the whole time since Catherine died. But it wasn't just that. He missed Catherine, and every time he looked at Becky, he saw his wife's face. But he'd noticed the past few days that Emma's face sneaked into his mind from time to time when he least expected it.

  "How long will you be?" Sam asked.

  "Not long."

  "You wanted to pick up some of your things while we're in town, too, didn't you?"

  Emma nodded. "There isn't much, but I do have a few sentimental items I'd like to bring to the ranch if you don't mind."

  "Not at all. I'll see you soon, then." Sam smiled at her, then turned away, heading down the sidewalk towards the livery stable.

  Emma watched him go, noting the breadth of his shoulders and how they tapered into slim hips and lean thighs. A tremor snaked through her as her mind recalled the sight of him each night as he readied himself for bed. Heat suffused her, and she reached into her reticule to find a handkerchief.

  Wiping a dot of perspiration from her brow with the lace-trimmed cotton square, she turned and went inside the store.

  A bell above the door jangled as she entered. Libby Connor looked up from behind the counter where she was scooping jelly beans into a paper bag and gave her a welcoming wave. "I'll be with you in just a minute, Emma."

  "Take your time," Emma said. "I'll just leave this list on the counter."

  Emma's gaze searched the dim interior of the store for the boys. She found them examining a toy train on a shelf near the window, while another boy stood beside them, counting out some coins in his hand.

  In the back corner of the store, nails rattled as Mr. Connor set a handful on a scale while Jacob Endersby, the town undertaker, looked on. Nearby, a group of women crowded around the latest edition of the Godey's Ladies Book.

  Taking Becky's hand, she crossed to a display cased filled with ribbons and lace. Becky's eyes lit up as Emma chose two rolls, one blue and one yellow.

  "Are you sure these are the ones you want?" Emma asked, holding out the rolls of ribbon for Becky's approval.

  Becky nodded feverishly. "Me want this one ..." she said, grabbing the roll of yellow ribbon, "and this one ..." Her tiny hands reached for the blue roll. "And that one up there ..." she yelled, her voice rising with excitement as she pointed to a roll of pink ribbon on an upper shelf. "Oh ... and me want that one ... and that one ..."

  Emma laughed. "You can't have them all," she said with a chuckle.

  Libby came up beside them. "Sounds like a woman to me," she joked. "A true shopper, and a merchant's dream."

  "Unfortunately, she can't have everything she sees," Emma pointed out. "But we will take a half yard of each of these, please." Emma handed the two rolls to Libby, then followed her to the counter.

  "How's married life?" Libby asked as she measured out the ribbon. "You and Sam getting settled in all right?"

  "Fine."

  "He's a good man," Libby said. "He deserves a good woman after what he put up with all those years."

  Emma's curiosity was piqued. This was the second time someone had implied Sam's marriage wasn't as blissful as he would like her to believe. "What do you mean?"

  "Uh ... nothing ... I shouldn't have opened my big mouth ... you know me ... it's really not my place to gossip ..."

  "What did he put up with?" Emma pried. "Tell me. Please."

  Libby glanced around the store, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Sam was the only one who couldn't see through his wife. The sun rose and set on that woman, and she treated him like a servant."

  "Really? I thought--"

  "Can I get some service over here?" a voice called out, interrupting their conversation.

  Libby's glance slid to a customer standing beside a chest of small drawers holding an assortment of buttons. "I'll be right there," she said to the woman, then turned back to Emma. "I shouldn't have said anything. Please don't tell Sam what I told you."

  "Of course I won't."

  Libby walked away, leaving Emma standing at the counter, her thoughts sorting the information Libby had provided. So Catherine wasn't a saint, after all. Amanda had implied as much, but she'd wondered if Amanda was merely spreading rumors. But now ... What else didn't she know about the woman who managed to hold on to Sam's love even from beyond the grave?

  "Is there anything else?" Libby's voice penetrated Emma's thoughts. "Harold has already loaded your other supplies into the wagon."

  "Oh ... yes. I'll need some fabric." Not only did the children need new clothes, she'd realized just that morning she only had one nightdress with a high neck and long sleeves. She couldn't wear it forever.

  "I just got a new shipment," Libby offered. "Let me show you."

  A half hour later, Emma had made her purchases and was sitting with the children on the bench outside the mercantile. She'd bought more fabric than she'd planned, but she couldn't resist purchasing a length of cheery flowered print fabric for new curtains and tablecloth to brighten up the kitchen. Sam might be annoyed that she'd spent her own money, but it was done. And she was sure he'd like the results.

  "We goin' home now?" Nathan asked.

  "When your father is finished his business, we'll stop at my house before we go back to the ranch."

  "What for?" Joseph asked.

  "To pick up some of my things. Clothes, a few books--"

  "Pretty ribbon?" Becky grinned up at her. "You gots pretty ribbon like mine?"

  Emma laughed. "Yes, Becky. I have some pretty ribbon, too. And some other things that are important to me."

  "How come you can bring stuff? Pa says we don't got no room. That's why we can't have a dog," Joseph put in.

  Emma's brows lifted. "A dog?" she asked. Where was the connection?

  Nathan took the peppermint stick out of his mouth. "Mr. Deschamp's dog had puppies last summer, but Pa wouldn't let us have one. Said we didn't have room."

  "He just said that." Joseph leaned closer to Emma. "I heard him and Ma fightin' when we was supposed to be sleepin'. She didn't want a dog in the house. Said they was too messy."

  "You'd like a dog?"

  "Yeah. A dog'd be real nice," Joseph said. "But Pa said--"

  "What for, Joseph?" Nathan butted in. "It'll just die like Mr. Holloway's dog did."

  "I don't care," Joseph said. "I'd like a dog. And Sally Cooper's dog just had puppies, so we could get one of hers. So can we, huh?"

  "Of course you can," Emma blurted out, and regretted it the very next instant.

  Oh, no! I've done it again ... opened my mouth without thinking. If Sam refuses, the children will never trust me again. Oh, when will I learn?

  "Uh ... but don't mention it to your father just yet, okay?" she added quickly. She had no idea how she would do it, but somehow she'd have to convince Sam that a puppy was an essential part of a child's life.

  Both boys agreed at once. "Okay."

  Just then, Sam appeared in the doorway of the telegraph office across the street. Their gazes met, and he began to cross, pausing for a few moments to let a wagon pass. Emma couldn't help studying
him as he strolled towards them, feeling that now familiar warmth course through her. It was strange how he had that effect on her each time she really stopped to look at him.

  He seemed tired. He'd been working hard, and each morning, he was up and dressed long before she even woke.

  "You finished?" Sam asked, climbing the step to the boardwalk.

  Emma nodded. "We were waiting for you. Did you conclude your business?"

  "Yep," Sam replied. "But there was no telegram from Catherine's parents. I'm surprised. I figured they'd be real annoyed and they'd have plenty to say. Maybe they didn't want the kids after all."

  "Perhaps. Then it worked out perfectly for everyone."

  Sam gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah, everything's perfect."

  Something in his eyes told Emma he didn't really believe that.

  ***

  The house seemed different when Emma walked through the door. The furniture was in the same place as before, the sun still slanted through the dining room window, and the scent of polish still hung in the air. Yet something had changed.

  Her. She had changed.

  In only a few days, nothing was the same. This was no longer home. Home was the tiny log home outside of town, with the worn furniture, the dust, and the children. And with Sam.

  "What do you want me to take out, Emma?" Sam asked, standing just inside the front door.

  Emma indicated three wooden crates stacked in the corner. She'd packed her most valuable possessions before the wedding. The rest didn't matter. "And my telescope."

  "Telescope? You've got a telescope?"

  "Yes. My father bought it for me when I was twelve." Memories assailed her - memories of sitting on the grass looking up at the stars with her father as he pointed out the Milky Way and the constellations.

  "You like to look at the sky?"

  Emma smiled. "My father believed we'll be able to live on the moon one day."

  Sam burst out laughing. "Your father sure had some crazy notions."

  Emma's smile disappeared. In its place, her lips thinned. "His notions weren't crazy. He read extensively and kept up with modern ideas. The scientists say we'll be able to fly through the sky one day soon, too."

  "Well, I'll keep my feet on solid ground, if it's all the same to you. I won't be flying anywhere. If God intended us to fly, he'd have given us wings."

  "Like angels," Nathan put in. "Like Mama. She has wings, 'cause she's an angel. And she lives in the sky."

  Emma's gaze shifted to the little boy, his eyes wide. Her voice caught in her throat.

  "Can we see Mama if we fly in the sky?"

  Sam and Emma exchanged glances. Sam crouched down to Nathan's level, resting his arms on his thighs. "No, son. You can't see your mother. She's gone."

  "But you said she lives in the sky - in heaven - and why can't we see her if we go there? We see Mr. Holloway when we go to where he lives--"

  "It's different. We might be able to go into the sky one day, but we can't go to Heaven."

  "Why not?"

  "Because ... well, just because. You'll understand when you get older. Now let's go before it gets dark."

  While Sam and Joseph took the boxes out to the wagon, Emma went up the stairs to her bedroom. Reaching into the bottom of her wardrobe, she withdrew the box holding her telescope. She had packed it away right after her father died, unable to look at the stars without tears clouding her vision. But she couldn't leave it behind.

  "Emma!" Amanda's voice drifted up the stairs.

  Emma grinned. She'd hoped to see Amanda for a few minutes before they left for the ranch, but she had been out when Emma knocked on her door earlier.

  "I'm up here," Emma called out. "I'll be right down."

  "Good. Because I don't have the energy to climb the stairs."

  Tucking the box beneath her arm, she scurried down the stairs. Amanda was waiting at the bottom, her arms outstretched. As soon as Emma put the box down, Amanda threw her arms around her and squeezed.

  "Oh, my goodness, Amanda," Emma breathed. "You're suffocating me."

  "I'm sorry," Amanda wailed. "But I've missed you so much. It just isn't the same without you here. James won't let me do anything, and I'm so lonely."

  "You won't be lonely for long. Soon you'll have plenty to do."

  Amanda's perpetual smile faded. "Emma," she said quietly. "You'll still come when I have the baby, won't you?"

  Emma took Amanda's hand and squeezed it, offering reassurance. "Of course I will. Nothing will keep me away. But you don't need me. You'll have the doctor and--"

  "But I do need you. You promised, Emma. You--"

  "Don't worry," Emma repeated. "I'll come. Send James to fetch me when it's time, and I'll be here as soon as I can."

  Amanda sighed. Relief shone on her face. "Thanks, Emma. You're such a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

  Emma felt her face grow warm, but before she had a chance to respond, Sam came back inside, Nathan following close behind.

  "Is that the telescope?" Nathan asked, taking a step towards the crate on the floor.

  "Yes. It is."

  "Let me see." Nathan's eyes lit up, and he made a move to open the box.

  Sam reached out to keep it away. "Don't touch it."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's not a toy." Sam lifted the box out of his reach and turned towards the door. "And besides, it has to be dark to see the stars."

  Emma returned. "I'll show you after supper, Nathan."

  Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Nah, never mind. It's stupid anyway," he muttered as he turned away and went outside.

  ***

  "There's something I'd like to speak to you about," Emma said to Sam later that night after the children were in bed. Emma's grandfather clock ticked loudly, and the only other sound was that of the rocking chair squeaking against the wooden floor.

  Sam looked up from the book he was reading. "What is it?"

  Emma slid the sewing needle into the fabric she'd been stitching and folded it on her lap. "The children want a dog."

  "A dog?"

  Emma nodded. "It's good for them to be around animals--"

  "They're around animals every day."

  She got up and went into the kitchen. "But not pets," she called out behind her as she took two mugs down and poured coffee. Bringing them back into the parlor, she set them down on the table. She didn't sit back down. Instead, she stood before him, looking down at him with those huge green eyes that pleaded for his approval. "They told me about the puppy they asked for last summer. And now another litter of puppies is available."

  "I don't have time to look after a dog."

  "You don't have to. The children will take care of it - or I will."

  "I can't afford another mouth to feed."

  "We have enough table scraps."

  "They need ..." Hell, he was running out of reasons to say no. Not that he really wanted to, anyway. More and more, he was finding it difficult to refuse Emma anything she asked for. Which wasn't much, he reminded himself.

  And, he recalled, he'd used the same arguments himself the summer before when Catherine had put her foot down and refused to have an animal in the house. He'd tried everything he could think of, but she hadn't budged. And rather than tell the children the truth, he'd blamed himself.

  He met her gaze, and she nibbled on her bottom lip, a habit he'd learned she had whenever she was unsure of herself. He had a sudden unreasonable urge to taste those lips, to capture the mass of curls in his fingers, to hear her breathing quicken and feel her heat close around him as he sank into her.

  "Well?" The voice interrupted his lustful thoughts, and he glanced down at the closure on his pants. Damn! He had to stop thinking about her. But how the hell could he? She lived in his house, and she slept in his bed. Her scent was everywhere, and her gentle ways only increased his desire. Resting his book atop the evidence of the train of his thoughts, he sighed. He couldn't refuse her anything. How long would it be be
fore she realized that, and used it as a weapon against him?

  Her lips curved in a smile that touched him deep inside. "Thank you," she murmured. She made a move towards him, almost as if she wanted to throw her arms around him, then she crossed her arms across her chest and took a step back. "Let's make it a surprise."

  Sam laughed. "That's right. I forgot you like surprises."

  "Oh, I do."

  An indecent thought flitted through Sam’s brain. How surprised would she be if he grabbed her right now and kissed her senseless?

  Chapter 8

  Emma ran her hand across the new yellow tablecloth to smooth out a wrinkle, then took a step back and surveyed the kitchen. The matching curtains fit perfectly, casting the kitchen in a golden glow as the late afternoon sun streamed through the newly washed window. It had been worth the hours it had taken to sew them.

  Crossing to the shelf above the cherrywood hutch, she selected a crockery vase. The wildflowers she and Becky had picked earlier in the afternoon would be the perfect touch for the centre of the table.

  "Pretty flowers," Becky announced. "Me smell."

  Emma held a few blooms under Becky's nose. Becky's face disappeared into the bouquet. She sniffed loudly, then grinned. "Nice."

  "Do you like them?" Emma asked, selecting two bluebonnets and slipping them in the vase.

  "Me do it." Becky scrambled up on a chair and grabbed for the flowers in Emma's hand. "Me put them in."

  Emma smiled. Becky wanted to do everything. Whether it was baking biscuits or collecting eggs from the henhouse, she followed Emma from morning until night, imitating every move. And Emma enjoyed every moment of it. She was coming to love the children as much as if she'd given them life. And she was coming to care for Sam, too. Too much. More than she had a right to.

  "Me do it," Becky insisted, tugging at one of the blossoms. A petal tore off and dropped to the table.

  "Oh." Becky's eyes widened and she shrank back, almost as if she was afraid. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Me sorry," she cried. "Me sorry."

  Emma reached for her and drew her into her arms. "It's all right, sweetheart. It was an accident."