***
"What'cha doin'?"
Emma stopped the rocking chair looked up to see Nathan standing beside her on the porch. His blond hair gleamed in the moonlight. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just thinking."
He perched himself in the rocking chair beside hers and kicked his foot out to set the chair in motion. "What about?" he asked.
Emma smiled softly. How could she answer Nathan's question when she couldn't even sort through her muddled thoughts herself? The children ... Sam ... the ranch ... their future ... Her mind whirled, flashes of memories mixing with fear and desire tumbling through her brain. Vague visions of the future whizzed through her mind, and in them, she was always alone.
The ride home had been strained, but she doubted the children had noticed. From the time they had picked the children up at the mercantile where Libby Connor had supervised them and all through the evening meal, the children had chattered constantly, described their day with Libby. Emma had prepared a meal of sliced ham and leftover potatoes, and whipped up an apple cobbler for dessert, but none of them were very hungry, since Lou had been feeding the children all day. Emma's stomach roiled at the thought of food, and by the way Sam shoved his food around on his plate, he was feeling the same way.
All the way home, she'd wanted to ask him why he hadn't spoken up, why he hadn't told the judge he didn't need the Howards' money. The stormy expression on his face was a clear indication she'd be wise to keep quiet.
"Huh?" Nathan's voice burst into the silence.
Emma looked at him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said you looked like you was thinkin' somethin' really sad. Are you sad?"
She gazed out into the darkness. The moon was low in the sky, outlining the shadows of the pecan trees lining the driveway leading to the house. Crickets chirped; an owl hooted. "I am a little sad. I'm thinking that this is a perfect night, and I'd love to just stay like this forever."
Nathan's chair stopped rocking. His head crooked to one side and his brows knitted in concern. "But who would do the chores?" he asked.
Emma chuckled. "I guess you're right. We can't keep things the way they are, no matter how much we want to."
Nathan followed Emma's gaze. "Sure we can. All you gotta do is wish on a star. Remember?"
If only it was that easy. Wouldn't it be wonderful to make a wish, and your dreams would come true. But life isn't like that. No amount of wishing - or even praying - will change what's destined to happen.
"So why don't you just make a wish?" Nathan insisted. "Look!"
At that moment, as if it was a divine signal, a star shot across the sky and sank below the horizon.
"You gotta wish now, right?" Nathan asked.
Emma smiled. "I suppose I do."
"You gotta close your eyes first," Nathan instructed.
Emma closed her eyes.
"Now make a wish, but you can't tell anybody or else it won't come true."
Emma nodded. "I wish ... I wish we can be a family, a real family, and that we can live here for the rest of our lives," she prayed to herself.
Emma opened her eyes to find Nathan within inches of her face. She drew back in surprise. "What are you doing?"
Nathan grinned. "Just makin' sure you did it right, with your eyes closed and everything. Else it won't work."
"Do you think I did it right?"
"Yep. I looked, and you had 'em closed tight enough, I think."
"So you're sure my wish will come true?"
Nathan climbed back into the rocking chair and threw himself against the back of the chair. The chair rocked wildly, but then settled into a rhythm. "Yep. It'll come true. You just gotta wait."
There was the problem. Waiting wasn't an option.
***
Fat raindrops began to fall, dotting the sun-parched ground as Sam drew the wagon to a stop in front of the courthouse. On the grass, four young boys were huddled together, their attention on something on the ground, unaware of the storm approaching.
It had been only three days since they'd left the courthouse, the Howards' lawyer's accusations ringing in his ears. In some ways, it seemed like years ago, but at the same time, as if only a few hours had passed.
Sam held out his hand to help Emma down. Her face was pale, and dark shadows ringed her eyes. She'd never mentioned what had happened, but he knew what she'd been thinking.
He wished she had said something - shouted at him, cried. Anything but the stony silence.
"Emma," he said softly as she ran her hand over her skirt to smooth the wrinkles. She looked up at him, the pain so evident in her eyes that he almost flinched. "I'm sorry."
The words sounded hollow, so inadequate for how he felt. But he didn't know what else to say to her.
"We'd better get inside." She turned to walk away from him.
Sam grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "I'm going to make it right. Even if it doesn't change the judge's mind, I'm going to tell him - and everybody in that courtroom - that we don't need to extort money from anybody. I just ... I'm a man, after all, and a man has his pride ..."
Emma looked away. "It's too late, Sam."
"Maybe not. But I have to try."
Wind tugged at the lapels on Sam's jacket, and rain dotted Emma's light brown dress.
"We're going to get soaked if we don't hurry," Emma pointed out.
Sam didn't move, but he released her arm. "No matter what happens in there, we have to talk when this is over. We have to talk about us."
He watched Emma's face for a sign, some signal that she understood what he was trying to say. If she had any thoughts, she hid them well. Her only reaction was a slight nod of acknowledgement, then she turned and walked away.
A few minutes later, Fred strolled in and took a seat near the back of the courtroom, followed by Amanda and James. Amanda waddled up to the table and gave Emma a quick hug. Turning to Sam, she said confidently, "It'll work out."
"We'll find out soon enough," Emma replied, suddenly thinking that Amanda looked as tired as Emma felt. "Are you feeling all right? You look exhausted."
Amanda chuckled. "It's this baby. Won't let me sleep nights. Every time I lie down, he decides it's time to play. But it won't be long now."
Fifteen minutes later, the Howards and their attorney entered the courtroom. Today, Florence was decked out in dark blue. Emma wondered if their attorney had suggested she tone down her wardrobe.
Winston didn't spare them a glance, walking right past them as if they didn't even exist. He sat down, leaving his wife and the lawyer to follow behind. The lawyer held a chair for Florence. She sank into it with an audible sigh.
Moments later, the door between the courtroom and the judge's chambers opened, and Judge Carstairs entered. To Emma, he seemed even more stern and forbidding than he had during the hearing, and she felt a wave of fear wash over her as his gaze met hers.
He sat down behind the bench and leaned forward. "Are all parties involved in the matter of custody of the three minor Jenkins children present?"
Both attorneys spoke at once.
"Then we can proceed." The judge picked up a sheet of paper and scanned it, then placed in back on top of a black leather folder.
Sam stood up. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, and his hands were clenched at his sides. "Your Honor ..." His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat loudly. "I'd like to say something ... I want to ..."
Jonas bounded up to restrain Sam. "This isn't the time," he whispered.
Sam turned and looked at Jonas's shocked expression. Although he lowered his voice, it was still loud enough for Emma - and everyone else - to hear. "There isn't a right time. I should've spoke up before, and if I don't do it now, it'll be too late."
"It's too late now," the judge interrupted. "Please sit down."
"But Your Honor--"
The judge let out a frustrated sigh. "I've made my decision. I doubt that anything you can tell me now will change my mind."
"You
have to listen--"
"Mr. McCallum, I'm a reasonably patient man," the judge warned. "But if you don't control your client, I won't hesitate to let him cool off in jail for a few days."
"Sam! You won't do anybody any good behind bars. Now sit down."
Sam's shoulders drooped and he slowly slumped down into the chair. He'd failed. He'd tried to do the right thing, and he'd failed.
His gaze slid in Emma's direction, but at the last moment, he refused to look at her. He couldn't stand to see the loathing she must surely feel for him. He'd have to deal with that later, but right now, he couldn't face it. Instead, he lowered his gaze, letting it settle on a callus on his thumb.
"I've reviewed the documents presented to me, and I've heard from witnesses for both parties involved." Focusing his gaze on the Howards, he addressed his comments to them. "I understand it was impossible to have character witnesses attend here on your behalf, so I've taken into account your letters of reference."
Turning to Sam and Emma, he continued. "On the other hand, I have heard from several witnesses about your character and personality, as well as testimony regarding the health and well-being of the children."
Sam's heart hammered like a woodpecker. His chest hurt, and it was impossible to take in a deep breath. Just get it over with, he begged silently. One way or the other.
The judge eyed them intently, then turned his attention back to the Howards. "There is an old proverb that says birds of a feather flock together. It may not hold true 100% of the time, but in my experience, this seems to be the case more often than not. The fact that you are friends of my cousin tells me more about the type of people you are than anything else."
Mrs. Howard beamed, then looked over at Sam and Emma. Her lips curved in a superior smile.
Sam couldn't do this alone. Even if Emma hated him for it, he needed her strength. Reaching out, he gripped her hand. He couldn't help being little surprised that she didn't try to pull away.
They were going to lose. He could sense it. Because Catherine's parents had powerful friends, the judge was going to take his children away from him and send them hundreds of miles away.
The judge leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bench. "My cousin is a pompous ass," he said. "If for no other reason, the fact that he is a good friend of yours makes me suspicious of your character."
Shocked gasps filled the courtroom, overpowering the sound of a child's laughter outside. Winston Howard's face turned a deep shade of red, and a vein bulged in his neck. Mrs. Howard's face paled, and she flapped her handkerchief wildly in front of her face.
"But even then," the judge continued as if there had been no reaction to his comment, "I am bound by the law. My personal feelings are of no consequence. My decision must be based on the evidence, and must be in the children's best interests."
He paused and took a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping his forehead, he muttered to himself, "I doubt the fires of Hell could be much hotter than this."
The court clerk snickered at the judge's attempt at humor.
"Mr. Ambrose, you have presented no evidence to support your accusations that the defendant and his wife were attempting to extort money from your clients. In fact, I find your methods highly unethical. It seems the children are well cared for, and their father - and his new wife - are in no way unfit to raise these children. They may not be powerful, or wealthy, but from what I've heard, there is an abundance of love in their home - something worth far more than money. Therefore, it is the judgement of this court that Sam and Emma Jenkins retain custody of their three minor children."
"Your Honor--" The Howards' attorney burst in.
Judge Carstairs slammed the gavel down. "Case closed."
***
Sam and Emma were surrounded. As soon as the verdict was handed down, whoops of joy filled the room, and people swarmed towards the table where they sat with Jonas. Amanda raced to hug Emma and Sam as quickly as her bulk would allow. James stayed close to his wife, quietly offering his congratulations.
Fred grabbed Emma in a bear hug, then pumped Sam's hand, slapping him heartily on the back. "We showed 'em, didn't we? I knew those high-falutin' Easterners wouldn't get those young'uns. Now they can go back where they came from with their tails between their legs."
Sam's throat was tight, and he felt dangerously close to tears. Hell, he couldn't lose control here, in public. But he'd been scared. More scared than he'd ever been in his life. "Jonas," he said. His voice cracked as he gripped the lawyer's hand. "I don't know how to thank you--"
Jonas waved Sam's thanks aside. "I'm the one who should be thanking you," he said. "I haven't had so much fun in years. Can't get too excited about somebody drawing up a will or a bill of sale. That's about all I get to do these days, especially in Charity."
"I have a feeling all that's going to change," Sam said.
Emma tore herself away from Amanda and came to stand beside them. Tears filled her eyes, but this time, they were tears of happiness. Shyly, she reached up and kissed Jonas's cheek. "Thank you," she murmured.
Jonas winked at her. "My pleasure."
"Will you come for dinner tomorrow?"
Jonas's eyebrows lifted. "A home-cooked meal? Well, I'd be a danged fool to turn that down, now wouldn't I?"
Emma smiled. "Good." Her smile faded as she caught sight of the Howards leaving the courtroom. Winston's head was bowed, and he was obviously furious with his attorney. His wife's gaze seemed to be focused on the clock above the doorway, but Emma sensed the woman's humiliation.
Sam's voice broke into her thoughts. "This calls for a celebration. Pass the word, Fred. Saturday afternoon at our place."
Emma turned to Jonas. "We'll expect you to be there, of course. You're the guest of honor."
Jonas reddened. "Now, Emma--"
"Let us do this," Emma pleaded. "Please."
"Then I'd be honored. Now I'm going home, and you two had better go and get those children of yours home for supper," he said with a smile. Picking up his leather satchel, he turned to leave. "See you tomorrow night."
Gradually, people moved away, leaving Sam and Emma alone. Sam drew her into his arms. There was no need to say anything. He couldn't have expressed himself anyway.
Finally, he drew back and gazed down at her. "We'll have the party. But before then, you and I are going to have that talk."
Chapter 18
Emma gripped the porch railing and watched as the wagon carrying Fred, Lou and the children disappeared into the night. The creak of the wheels rolling over the packed earth faded, leaving only silence. Leaving her alone.
With Sam.
She was well aware of why Sam had asked Fred and Lou to take the children. Sam had apparently decided that this was the time to have the talk - the talk about their future, their marriage. He'd reminded her of it several times today alone.
Mercy, she couldn't deal with this tonight. She was too tired - both physically and emotionally - to keep her defenses intact. And lately, it was becoming more and more difficult to resist him.
With an exhausted sigh, Emma glanced at the door to the barn, waiting for Sam to appear. Flickering light glowed in the window as he moved through the barn settling the animals for the night. The routine would take him about ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
Perhaps if she was asleep when he came in ... She had plenty of time.
Turning away, she scurried inside and up the stairs.
She had finished tying her hair into a thick braid and was unfolding her nightdress when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He was early! It hadn't even been five minutes. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she tugged her nightdress over her head, not bothering to fasten the row of pearl buttons. She jumped into the bed, yanking the quilt over her and burrowing her head deep into the feather pillow. Holding the opening of her nightdress closed, she rolled onto her stomach and tucked her hands beneath her.
Sam opened the door and stepped inside. She heard the la
tch click behind him. "Emma?"
She didn't answer. A feather spine jabbed her cheek, but she didn't dare move.
"I know you aren't sleeping," he said. She could feel his eyes boring into her.
The bed creaked as he sat on the edge. Through lowered lids, she couldn't resist peeking as he tugged one boot off, then the other. He stood up and took off his shirt, exposing a breadth of muscle that never failed to make Emma's breath catch.
At the sound, he turned to face her. Emma quickly closed her eyes. She knew what he wanted to talk about - her testimony. She'd admitted her feelings for him, and now he would expect her to be a real wife to him - something she couldn't do.
"We need to settle some things," he said. Coins jingled on the wooden bureau. "I asked Fred and Lou to take the children so we could talk in private, but since you're sleeping so soundly ..." He paused, and Emma could sense his eyes on her. Her face flamed. Luckily, it was buried in the pillow. "If you don't want to talk about this tonight, we'll do it tomorrow night, or the night after that. Your choice."
Oh ... no ... The children would be home tomorrow, and the walls were very thin. She couldn't expose the children to such a personal discussion.
He left her no choice.
Emma felt his weight as he climbed into bed and rolled to his side, facing her.
Raising her head a few inches, she turned to meet his gaze. "There's really nothing to talk about," she said, wishing Sam would leave well enough alone. They had a good marriage, the children were coming to accept her as their mother, and now that the threat of losing them was gone, they could look forward to a pleasant life together. Why did he have to ask more of her than she was able to give?
"Like hell there isn't." Sam's voice boomed.
"Fine." Emma sat up, her fist still clutching the opening of her nightdress. With her other hand, she punched her pillow and tucked it behind her back, then tugged her braided hair from behind her head and flicked it over her shoulder. It came to rest on swell of her breast, and the pale blue ribbon dipped into the hollow. Looking up, she saw Sam's gaze resting on the braid, and she felt her nipples tighten under his scrutiny. "Then let's settle it."
Emma's Wish Page 19
