“I think I can handle that. One bell about to be unstuck.” He smiled, but she didn’t return his banter. He was going to have to work hard to get their relationship back on track, even if it was only a return to their former friendship.
With a sigh, he headed in the direction she pointed, a little unsettled to notice that Wainwright had the camera aimed at them now. As Jonathan worked on fixing the bell, he kept watch on the reporter’s every move. He always seemed to be hovering near Emma, except when someone called him to go elsewhere. If Jonathan didn’t know better, he’d think the bloke was sweet on her.
With the game once again operational, Jonathan strolled about the hospital grounds, taking note of where there was an extra-long line or where a booth needed more attention. He reported his findings back to Emma, who seemed grateful for his observations.
Randall spent his time posing for pictures with the families in attendance. Jonathan spotted Corinne pushing Marianne through the area. Vera, he assumed, must be working behind the scenes.
A while later, Jonathan bought a hot dog and a cold lemonade from one of the booths and went to sit under a tree in the shade. The afternoon sun had the sweat dripping from his forehead.
“There you are, buddy. I thought I’d never find you.” Reggie lowered himself gingerly to the grass beside him and lay his crutches down.
“Hey, Reg. Glad you could come.” He’d invited his friend but hadn’t been certain he could make it. “Not wearing your leg today?”
“I didn’t want to risk it with all these people. Still taking it slow.”
“That’s probably smart.”
Reggie grabbed Jonathan’s lemonade and took a swig. “Have you seen all the booths and games yet?”
“Most of them, I think.”
“I’m a little disappointed.” Reggie waggled his brows. “I was hoping there would be a kissing booth. One with lots of cute nurses on hand.”
“You are incorrigible. What about the nurse at the military hospital?”
“Ah, she still hasn’t succumbed to my charms. But there’s always hope.” Reggie leaned back on one elbow. “How are things with Emma?”
The lemonade soured in Jonathan’s stomach. “Not good. I made a muddle of it this morning. We had a huge row.”
“By row do you mean fight?”
Jonathan nodded. “I asked her to marry me and go back to England.”
“Good grief!” Reggie straightened. “What did she say?”
“That she couldn’t leave her father. I think I shocked her, since I just sort of blurted it out. Not my finest moment, that’s for sure.”
Reggie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Have I taught you nothing, man? A marriage proposal must be well rehearsed. Every detail planned out. Flowers, a ring, and of course, a declaration of undying love.”
Jonathan scowled and crumpled his hot dog wrapper.
“Wait a minute. You did tell her you love her, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly. But for Pete’s sake, I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me if I didn’t love her.”
Reggie shook his head and looked at Jonathan as though he were a simpleton. “Women need to hear the words. It’s little wonder she turned you down.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence.” Jonathan pushed up to his feet, his mellow mood ruined.
Reggie reached out a hand, and Jonathan helped him up.
“Don’t worry, pal. You can always try again. Only this time, take my advice, and she won’t be able to resist.”
“I don’t think there’ll be a next time. Emma’s made it quite clear she’s not leaving Toronto.”
Reggie positioned the crutches under his arms. “It seems to me,” he said in a serious voice, “that if you truly love Emma, you’d be willing to give up Oxford for her. I know I’d follow the love of my life anywhere if it meant we could be together.”
His wistful tone snapped Jonathan back to the present. For all Reggie’s talk of nurses, maybe his friend wasn’t really over his former fiancée. Perhaps underneath all his cheerfulness and swagger was a heart still broken by Elsie’s rejection.
“Hey, who’s that guy taking all the pictures of your girl?” Reggie pointed across the grounds.
Jonathan frowned, surprised Reg even recognized Emma. He’d only met her once briefly when he came to pick Jonathan up for an appointment. “His name is Giles Wainwright. He’s a reporter. A real pain in the posterior, if you know what I mean. Seems to be wherever Emma is.”
“Maybe he has designs on her.”
“More like he’s trying to sniff out a story about her father.” Jonathan tossed his wrapper in the trash. “I think I’d better make my presence known. See you later, Reg.”
CHAPTER 23
The hot sun beat down on Emma’s back. She blew a curl off her forehead and wished for a parasol. At home, she was far more used to the cool mists that hugged the English countryside and rarely had to worry about being out in such extreme heat. Unbidden memories of sitting on the riverbank with Jonathan jumped to mind, of them relaxing at their favorite spot by the bridge in Wheatley, the place where they used to share their innermost thoughts.
A spasm of pain hit her chest. She rubbed at the ache and resolutely pushed away all thoughts of Jonathan. She had a job to do and couldn’t afford to be distracted. She’d figure out what to do about him tomorrow when the fundraiser was over.
Spotting Corinne pushing Marianne toward her, Emma pasted on a forced smile. A bunch of balloons tied to the handles of Marianne’s wheelchair streamed out behind them.
“Emma!” Marianne called, waving some pink cotton candy. “Look what Corinne bought for me.”
“How lovely,” Emma said. “Are you having a good time?”
“A wonderful time.”
“And how about you, Corinne?” Emma focused her attention on her other sister, noting the pinched lines around her eyes.
“I’m fine.”
“But you wish you were elsewhere?” Emma guessed. “Or that a certain someone was here with you?”
Corinne nodded and leaned closer. “Will said he’d try to come and bring some of his brothers and sisters, but I haven’t seen him yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll do his best.” Emma smiled. Ever since she’d told Will about Corinne’s confession, it sounded like the relationship had improved between the pair. Yet, according to her sister, Will still hadn’t asked their father for permission to court her. Emma made a mental note to discover what was holding him back.
“Good afternoon, ladies. May I take your photo?” Giles Wainwright came up behind Emma.
She fought back a grimace. Mr. Wainwright wasn’t the only reporter here, but he was the only one who seemed to be in her path every time she turned around.
“To go in the newspapers?” Marianne asked excitedly.
“Possibly. I can’t promise which ones will be selected for print, but if this one turns out well, I’ll do my best to persuade my editor to include it.” He winked at Corinne, who blushed. “With such lovely subjects, I’m sure he’ll say yes.”
Emma folded her arms in front of her. She wasn’t fooled by his false charm for a minute. “You two go ahead. I have to see to more pressing business.”
“Wait, Miss Moore. I was also hoping to interview you since I understand this fundraiser was your brainchild.”
“I came up with the initial idea, but a whole team has worked hard to make it a reality. I deserve no more credit than anyone else.”
“Ah, beautiful and modest too. A stunning combination.”
Irritation prickled along Emma’s already frayed nerves. “Excuse me.” She peered past the man and his enormous camera. “I’ll see you girls later. Have fun. Don’t eat too much candy, Marianne.”
She pushed on ahead, intent on finding her father to make sure he was prepared for his speech, which was slotted for three o’clock. She also wanted to ensure the dais and the microphone were in place, and that the hospital board members were on hand as well
. Knowing Vera, she would have matters well under control.
As Emma made her way through the crowd, she heard someone calling her name. Frowning, she looked up. A woman dressed in a white blouse and dark skirt lifted her hand from the handle of a large pram and waved at her.
“Grace? Is that you?” A wave of pure delight rushed through Emma.
“It is.” Her friend hurried forward and enveloped her in a hug. “I can’t believe we finally found each other. Every time I’ve come to visit Mrs. C., I seem to miss you somehow.”
Emma hugged her again. “How have you been? I was so sorry to hear about your sister.” Mrs. C. had told Emma the tragic news of Rose’s death.
“Thank you. It was indeed a shock.” Grace gave a sad smile. “But being with Christian is helping with the grief.” She took Emma’s hand and led her to the pram. “Isn’t he precious?”
Inside, a beautiful child lay asleep, long lashes fanning his cheeks.
“He’s marvelous.” Emma straightened. “How did you come to be his nanny?”
Grace shook her head and glanced around, as though expecting someone to appear. “It’s a rather long story, one I’ll tell you when we have more time. Right now I’m afraid I have to get back to the house.”
“Of course. And I should get back to work. This fundraiser is part of my father’s campaign for mayor.”
Grace nodded. “That’s what Mrs. C. said.” She looked around. “Is Jonathan here?”
Emma fought to keep her smile in place. “He’s around somewhere. Well, I’d love to chat longer, but I need to find Randall. It’s almost time for his speech.”
Grace leaned in for another quick hug. “Good luck with everything. I hope we can get together soon and have a proper visit.”
“Count on it.”
As Grace pushed the pram down the sidewalk, Emma gave a wistful sigh. The renewal of her friendship would have to wait. Right now, she had to attend to more important matters.
Jonathan followed Wainwright past the booths, past the pony ride and the games until the man disappeared around the back of the hospital.
An urging in his gut propelled Jonathan forward. Why had he left the activities to come here? Maybe he only wanted a smoke away from the kids, yet somehow Jonathan sensed a more underhanded reason was afoot.
As quietly as possible, he rounded the corner where Wainwright had disappeared and entered an alley that seemed to be a loading area for hospital supplies.
Wainwright was talking to another fellow, one who looked vaguely familiar. Their heads were bent close together as they spoke.
Jonathan moved closer, keeping to the shadows of the far wall.
“You’re not going soft on me over that girl, are you?” The second man’s voice grew louder. “Because unless you want to pay back the money I’ve already given you—”
“No. I just need more time.” Wainwright actually sounded nervous, his usual bravado nowhere to be found
“That’s the problem. We’re running out of time. We need to stop Moore’s momentum now so the mayor can recover any lost support.”
Jonathan’s pulse spiked as he recalled why the man looked familiar. He’d seen his picture in the papers. He worked for Mayor Church. What was he paying Wainwright to do?
“If you can’t get that girl to talk, we’ll find someone with more persuasive talents to make her.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Wainwright sounded even more nervous. “I’ll get the info you need. Don’t worry.”
Jonathan backed out of the alley and returned to the festivities, his instincts telling him that he didn’t need to be discovered overhearing this conversation. His mouth went dry thinking of the menacing tone of the other man’s voice. By “that girl” did he mean Emma? He must. That would explain Wainwright’s dogged determination to get her to reveal something about Randall.
The instant the reporter approached the outskirts of the hospital grounds, Jonathan walked up to him and stood toe-to-toe. “I don’t care who you’re working for,” he said, his voice so low that only Wainwright could hear. “I’m warning you to stay away from Emma. I won’t allow you to use her as a pawn in whatever game you’re playing.” He poked Wainwright in the chest. “Take your pictures of the event, but leave Emma alone.”
His hard gaze pinned the reporter to the spot. Beads of sweat stood out on the man’s forehead, but he remained silent, his mouth a grim line. Then, grasping his camera, Wainwright took off into the crowd.
Emma scanned the area, relieved that for the moment there was no sign of Wainwright. Perhaps he’d gotten enough photos and left, though she doubted he’d leave before the speeches. She blew out a breath as Vera and Randall came walking toward her.
“All set?” Emma asked her father.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He draped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “I must congratulate you both. This has been a wonderful day for the community.”
“Thank you, darling.” Vera smiled at him. “I’m only happy I can be of such help to you.”
“You’ve always been my biggest supporter.” He brushed a kiss to Vera’s cheek.
Emma stood in front of them, trying hard not to let envy gain a hold of her. “We have chairs on the platform for some of the board members. I’m not sure if the mayor will be able to make it, but I have a seat for him just in case.”
“You invited the competition?” Vera’s tone hinted disapproval.
“Protocol, my dear.” Randall patted her arm. “But if we’re lucky, he’ll be too busy to attend.”
“Oh, a word of warning,” Emma said. “There are several reporters here, and Mr. Wainwright is among them.”
A flicker of irritation crept over her father’s face. “Good to know. Always wise to be aware of the enemy’s position. Come, Vera. Let’s get everyone in place.”
Vera threw her an enigmatic look before she followed her husband to the stage.
Emma scanned the group of people again and this time spotted Wainwright leaning against a pole. For once, he didn’t seem his usual overly confident self. Instead, he wore a worried frown as he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
An undercurrent of unease seemed to hang in the air, sending tingles down Emma’s spine. Why did she get the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong?
Jonathan found a spot on the edge of the crowd, where he could keep an eye on both Wainwright and Emma without too much difficulty. He suffered through the rather boring speeches by the hospital board members until Randall himself came to the podium. Emma’s face shone with pride as she listened to her father speak. The audience responded with thunderous applause, indicating that this fundraiser had done wonders for his public image, just as Emma had hoped. Despite their argument this morning, Jonathan was glad the rest of the day had turned out so well for her.
The speeches were just ending when Wainwright broke away from the other reporters who were taking pictures and headed right over to Emma.
Instantly, Jonathan’s senses went on alert. Had his warning to the man gone unheeded?
Wainwright took Emma’s arm and leaned in to whisper something to her. She frowned and shoved his hand away. But he persisted, blocking her path and standing over her in an almost threatening manner.
Fury ripped through Jonathan. Without thinking, he charged through the bystanders until he reached them.
“If you don’t leave this instant,” Emma was saying, “I’ll have security remove you.” Her voice quavered, with anger or fear Jonathan didn’t know.
Wainwright lowered the camera, wielding it almost like a weapon. “There’s no law against taking someone’s picture.”
“There might not be a law, but there’s common decency.” Jonathan grabbed the guy and jerked him away from Emma. “You’ve been harassing her all day. Now she’s asked you to leave. If I were you, I’d listen.” Still gripping Wainwright’s arm, Jonathan glowered at him.
“It’s all right, Jonathan.” Emma’s voice was laced with ten
sion. “I’m sure Mr. Wainwright has taken enough photos for today.”
Wainwright pulled free of Jonathan’s grip. “Not quite. I still need one of you, as well as that interview you promised.”
“I never agreed to an interview. If you want a quote for your paper, then speak to my—” Emma stopped, the color draining from her face.
“To who, Emma?” Wainwright practically pounced on her.
“My Uncle Randall. Excuse me.” She went to move away, but once again Wainwright blocked her path.
“Come on, Emma. Admit who he really is to you.”
The look of panic on Emma’s face lit the fuse of Jonathan’s temper, igniting it to a full-blown inferno.
He spun the man around. “I warned you to leave her alone. You should have listened.”
Wainwright’s face registered shock a split second before Jonathan plowed his fist into his jaw. Emma shrieked as the reporter flew backward and landed with a thud on the ground, the camera crashing down beside him. Blood spurted from his lip.
A bellow of rage erupted from Wainwright as he shot to his feet and attacked.
Jonathan ducked the fist and whirled in time to see Wainwright coming at him again. This time Jonathan wasn’t quick enough. The blow glanced off his cheek, sending him spinning to the grass.
“Stop it!” Emma’s cry barely registered as he pulled himself upright.
His anger roared in his ears as he lurched toward Wainwright again. They circled each other like two feral animals, fists up and ready. Wainwright made the first move, but Jonathan dodged the blow. Then he charged at the reporter, locking his arms around the man’s waist in an attempt to take him down.
Someone tugged hard on Jonathan’s shoulder, trying to separate him from Wainwright. With a growl, Jonathan elbowed the unwanted interloper and pushed him off.
A familiar scream tore his attention away from his opponent. Flashes from the reporters’ cameras momentarily blinded him. When his vision cleared, he recognized Emma sprawled on the ground, a shocked expression on her face.
“Emma, are you—”
The Highest of Hopes Page 21