Emma's Wish

by Margery Scott

  Sam seemed completely flustered. He gazed at her, then his children, Fred, and the conductor. "Oh, hell ..." he muttered.

  With a deafening hiss, steam poured from beneath the train.

  "What?" Fred asked above the noise. "What did you say?"

  Emma's gaze froze on Sam's lips, waiting for his response. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "No."

  "What?"

  "No. Don't put the children on the train."

  Emma released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Mr. Jenkins ... does this mean ...?"

  Sam gave her a crooked smile. "It means if we're going to be husband and wife, you should maybe you should start calling me Sam."

  ***

  She'd certainly done it this time.

  Once again, she'd jumped into a situation without taking the time to consider all the consequences of her actions, and now her entire life would change. How her parents would have chastised her if they'd still been here.

  Emma glanced across the table in the dining room of the Charity Hotel at the man who would soon be her husband. Her stomach fluttered, and her palms were damp.

  He really was handsome, she thought, watching as his eyes crinkled in laughter at something Becky said. And he'd be even more so once the lines of fatigue and the shadows beneath his eyes were gone.

  A waitress began to clear some of the plates from the table.

  "I could have made lunch for us at home," Emma whispered once the girl left. "It's so expensive--"

  "It's a special occasion," Sam interrupted. "It'll probably be quite a spell before we do this again, so enjoy it."

  Beside her, Fred grinned, then dug his fork into the last piece of steak on his plate and popped it into his mouth.

  "Then thank you. It's lovely," she said with a smile as she willed her stomach to stop churning. The food at the hotel was always exquisite, and normally she would have savored every bite, but her nerves were so taut she might as well have been eating sawdust.

  Joseph set his empty glass on the table. "Pa says you're goin' to be our ma," he said, picking up a napkin and scrubbing it across his mouth.

  Emma smiled. "That's right."

  Nathan, his fork poised with a heap of mashed potatoes balanced on it, glowered at Emma. "We don't need a new ma. We already got a ma--"

  "That's enough, Nathan." The tone of Sam's voice stopped Nathan in mid-sentence.

  Nathan sent a scathing glance in Emma's direction, but shoved the fork in his mouth and lowered his head.

  "You gonna live at our house?" Joseph asked.

  "Course she's gonna live with you," Fred put in. "If'n she's your ma, where else would she live?"

  "I just wondered ..."

  "How can she take care of you ruffians if she doesn't live there?"

  "I thought maybe we'd be movin' into town."

  Silence descended on the table. There was a possibility.

  "Sam--?"

  "Don't even think about it, Emma," Sam said. "We have a parcel of land a few miles outside of town. It's small, and it's not fancy, but it's my home. If that's not good enough for you--"

  "No," Emma cried. Without a thought, she reached over and rested her hand on his, then quickly drew it away as its warmth spread up her arm and right through her. She lifted her gaze to meet his.

  He'd felt it, too. She was sure of it.

  "I didn't mean that, Sam. I only thought if you'd prefer to live in town, my house is large enough ..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, concentrating on the food on her plate.

  "Sam's a bit bull-headed when it comes to that place of his," Fred said with a laugh. "But it's a good piece of land, and if it's worked right, it'll make you a profit one of these days."

  "If I don't lose it to the bank first," Sam muttered. "The mortgage is due in the fall. If I don't make the payment, they'll foreclose.”

  Emma gave him a confident smile. "You ... we ... will make the payment."

  "You young'uns about finished?" Fred asked, eyeing the children, then turned to Sam. "I expect you two got some plans to make."

  Sam nodded. "I suppose we do."

  Fred stood up and shoved his hat on his head.

  "Where you goin', Mr. Holloway?" Nathan asked.

  "Thought I'd head over to the general store. I just happened to notice a jar of jawbreakers when I passed by a little bit ago." He winked at Emma, then turned to the children. "You feel like keeping me company?"

  Within seconds, the boys had gulped down their drinks and were running out the door of the hotel. Behind them, Fred took Becky by the hand and helped her down from the chair.

  "No jawbreakers for her, Fred. She's too small to chew them."

  "You two relax and enjoy yourselves. Me and the young'uns'll be fine."

  With a wink in Emma's direction, Fred left.

  Emma's fingers trembled as she picked up a lump of sugar and added it to her coffee. Keeping her gaze focused on the china cup, she stirred the dark liquid, then put the spoon back on the saucer.

  Why didn’t he say something? The silence was unbearable.

  Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she lifted her gaze to find him staring at her, but she couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes.

  "The coffee is very good," she murmured, unable to think of a single thing to say to dispel the tension.

  "Emma ..." he began.

  Oh, Heavens. He's changed his mind. "Yes?"

  "I want to make sure you understand ... this won't be a real marriage ..."

  Emma nodded. "I know that."

  "I mean ... I won't expect you to ..."

  What was he getting at? "Expect me to what?"

  Emma noticed a slight flush creep across his face. Then his meaning dawned on her, and she felt her own face grow warm.

  "Oh!" Emma looked away. "I ... hadn't thought of that ..."

  How could she have forgotten? The prospect of a physical relationship with a man was the precise reason she had resigned herself to a life alone. Yet she had completely forgotten that. She hadn't for a moment considered the possibility that Sam might expect to exert his rights as a husband. Her only concern had been the children and her own needs. She'd wanted a husband and a family of her own, and when the opportunity had presented itself to her, she'd jumped at the chance.

  She'd assumed Sam only wanted someone to look after his home and his children. She'd never given a moment's thought to Sam's other needs - needs she'd heard all men have.

  "It's a small house. Maybe you should have seen it first before you agreed to live there--"

  "The size of a house is unimportant. It's the people inside who make it a home," Emma said.

  Sam grinned. "I hope you feel the same way when we're tripping over each other trying to get to the breakfast table."

  Emma chuckled. She was actually looking forward to bustling around Sam's kitchen as she prepared meals for her new family.

  "And we'll have to share the same bed--"

  Her smile vanished. "What?"

  "Like I said, the house is small, only two bedrooms. The children sleep in one, we sleep in the other."

  He expected her to share his bedroom.

  Share his bed!

  Impossible. She couldn't sleep beside him in the same bed night after night. What if he changed his mind and wanted more? She could never allow him to be her husband in the most intimate sense. She couldn't bear to see the revulsion on his face when she bared herself to him.

  "I can't--"

  "There's nowhere else to sleep. Maybe next year I can add a room, but right now, it's either my bed or the barn."

  She had no intention of sleeping with the animals, and he certainly wasn't offering. "I see. Then I suppose there really isn't any alternative."

  "None that I can see," Sam said. "But like I said before, I won't expect you to fulfil ... your wifely duties ..."

  Emma felt her face grow even redder. "Thank you," she murmured. "I appreciate it. I do realize you have right
s ..."

  Sam gazed at her. "I may have rights, but I won't be taking advantage of you. My wife hasn't been gone a year yet, and I still can hardly face the day without her. The last thing I can think about right now is bedding another woman."

  Did he really have to put it so bluntly? She supposed he was only trying to be straightforward, but discussing such things with a man, even if he was going to be her husband, was disconcerting, to say the least. But the fact that he had no desire to do more in his bed than sleep was something to be thankful for.

  "Now that that's settled," he went on, "I suppose we should decide when we're going to get married."

  "Do you have any preference?"

  Sam shrugged. "The sooner the better, the way I see it, but I know you ladies like to arrange things--"

  "I have nothing to arrange. We can marry this afternoon if you like."

  Sam's eyebrows arched. "I think we should wait a few days, just in case you change your mind. How about Saturday?"

  Emma slid her cup and saucer across the table out of the way. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table and eyed him earnestly. "Sam, I guarantee I will not change my mind. I will marry you, I will be the best housekeeper and mother I can be. All I ask is that you never expect more than that. Because I can't ... I won't ... ever be a real wife to you."

  ***

  "So we don't have to go to Boston?" Joseph asked at home later that afternoon.

  Sam looped the horse's bridle strap, then hung it from a nail in the wall of the barn. Taking a bucket, he filled it with oats and dumped it in the trough against the wall.

  "That's right, Joseph." Sam had made a stop at the telegraph office after he took Emma home and sent a telegram to the children's grandparents. As he wrote the words telling him of his decision to keep the children with him, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

  "Ever?" Joseph pressed.

  "Ever."

  "Whoopee!" Joseph cried, then grabbed Becky's hand and the two of them raced out of the barn towards the house.

  Dust billowed up in their wake. More relaxed that he’d been in months, Sam smiled as he watched them cross the yard. His children were happy. And if they were happy, he was happy.

  He'd made the right decision, he assured himself as he picked up a pitchfork and filled the horse's stall with straw.

  He sure hadn't planned on marrying again, but Emma Witherspoon had offered him an opportunity he couldn't refuse. She'd given him his children back, asking for nothing in return. In fact, she'd made a point of telling him she had no intention of being a real wife, and she'd practically swooned when he mentioned sharing the same bed.

  She'd seemed agreeable enough, too, those few times when she wasn't scolding him about the children. Their lunch had been pleasant, and he'd even found himself laughing once or twice. He couldn't deny he'd enjoy having someone to keep him company in the evenings after the children were asleep, and it would be nice to come home to a clean house and a hot meal cooking on the stove.

  Sam looked up to find Nathan standing silently nearby. Nathan's face held a puzzled expression. "Something wrong?" Sam asked.

  "That woman's gonna live here with us, though, ain't she," Nathan said.

  Sam nodded. "Miz Witherspoon and I are going to have a wedding. Then she'll live here and be your mother."

  Nathan's eyes narrowed. "But I don't need another ma. I already got a ma."

  "Nathan--"

  "When Ma comes back--"

  Sam leaned the pitchfork against the gate of the stall, then crouched down so that he was on the same eye level as Nathan. He gently brushed back a stray lock of golden hair from the boy's forehead. "We've already talked about this. Ma's not coming back, Nathan. You know that."

  "She will--"

  Sam shook his head. "No."

  "Ma said if I wish on the first star at night my wish will come true. I did that and I wished she'd come back. So she will."

  If only that was possible ...

  How could he get through to him? How could he make him understand the finality of his mother's death? How could he expect Nathan to put it behind him when he couldn't do that himself? With all the maturity he had, Sam still couldn't accept Catherine's death, so how could he expect a child to give another woman a chance?

  "I need someone to look after you so I can work the land," Sam explained. "Miss Witherspoon will take care of the house and you. It'll be fine. You'll see."

  "Miz Holloway can look after us."

  "No, she can't."

  "Why? She don't got nobody to look after 'cept Mr. Holloway."

  Sam smiled. "Mr. Holloway takes a lot of looking after."

  "I can look after me. I'm big enough."

  "No, you aren't. Now I expect you to behave at the wedding, and when Miz Witherspoon moves in with us, you'll mind your manners and do what you're told. Do you understand?"

  Nathan muttered something Sam couldn't hear, kicked his foot into the dirt, then turned and trudged across the yard and up the stairs into the house.

  Watching Nathan go, Sam let out a tired sigh. He wished he didn't have to be so stern, but since the day Nathan was born, the boy had had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Once he got his mind set on something, there was no way to change it. Winning Nathan over would not be easy. Emma had her work cut out for her.

  Sam closed the barn door and crossed the yard. As he went inside and through the house to the bedroom, his gaze swept the interior. A layer of dust coated every surface. The plank floor was spattered with dried mud that Sam hadn't had time to sweep up. In the kitchen, dirty dishes littered the table, and he noticed a large red stain where Becky had spilled a jar of strawberry preserves at breakfast.

  Emma has her work cut out for her in here, too, he muttered as he extinguished the lamp and closed the door. He only hoped she wouldn't take one look at the way they lived and change her mind.

  Chapter 4

  By the following morning, the news of the impending wedding between the widower and the spinster had spread all over town. Several passersby had already made comments and offered congratulations when Emma went out to buy milk at the mercantile. How word had spread so quickly, it was impossible to say, but Emma wasn't surprised. Nothing remained a secret in Charity for long.

  It was no surprise either when Amanda burst through the kitchen door right after breakfast. She knew her friend would have plenty to say about Emma's latest folly.

  "I don't know ... how you could ... do such a thing ..." Amanda sank into a chair and fanned her face until she caught her breath.

  Emma punched at the bread dough she'd been kneading, then shaped it into a loaf and placed it in a buttered tin. Unfolding a clean dish towel, she covered the tin and set it aside to rise.

  She couldn't explain her reasoning, certainly not to Amanda, who planned and organized and scheduled every moment of every day. All she knew was that the moment had presented itself, and she'd lost control of her mouth. The words had spilled out of their own volition, and she'd been unable to stop them.

  Yet even now, she had no regrets. Somehow, marrying Sam felt right. Not exactly logical, she reasoned, yet it was a feeling so intense it almost frightened her.

  Wiping her hands on a damp cloth, she crossed the room and perched on the edge of a chair opposite her friend at the table. "It's simple, Amanda," she said calmly. "He needs a wife, and his children need a mother."

  "But you don't even know the man."

  "I've heard only good things about him," Emma countered. "And most of them from you."

  "That's not the point. I don't have to live with him. What if he's not what he seems? He could drink too much. Or beat you."

  "The same could be said for any man I married. How did you know James wouldn't mistreat you after you married him?"

  Amanda shrugged. "I don't know," she said softly. "I just knew. A feeling."

  "And I have the same feeling about Sam. I can't explain it, but he's a good man. I know it. And it's my chance
to have a real family."

  "There are a lot of men in this town who would happily give you a family if you would give them the chance."

  "You know I can't."

  "You mean you won't let another man get close to you after what that scoundrel ... what was his name? ..."

  "Barclay."

  "Yes, Barclay. After what he did to you."

  "That's right. I truly believed he loved me. Yet after the accident, when he saw what had happened to me ..." Emma's voice trailed off as the pain of their last meeting surged through her once again. "I couldn't bear to see another man look at me that way--"

  "A man who really loves you would love all of you, no matter how you look on the outside. He obviously didn't love you enough."

  "And a man who will love me enough may never come along."

  "He won't if you never give him a chance."

  Emma got up and crossed to the stove. "I've made up my mind, Amanda."

  "But you're giving up your entire life to raise another woman's children."

  Emma nodded. "It's the closest I'll come to having what I've always wanted. In time, I hope Sam and I can become friends. That is enough for me. Now are you going to help me plan this wedding or not?"

  Amanda shook her head in resignation. "Of course I'll help you, but only if you promise to visit often. I'm going to miss you so much."

  Tears burned Emma's eyes. Amanda was her best friend, and the only person in town who knew the circumstances of her return home. Only with Amanda could Emma be completely honest. But it was time to do what was best for her. "I'll be coming into town quite often," Emma assured her.

  "I don't know how I'll get through the rest of this pregnancy without you," Amanda said, patting her stomach.

  Emma chuckled. "You'll get through it the same way you got into it. With James."

  Amanda held her hand on her stomach as the baby kicked. Her voice took on a dreamy quality. "Oh, yes, I remember now," she joked. "I didn't need you, did I? Speaking of which, about your wedding night, what will you do if Sam wants to ... you know ..."

  Emma felt her face flush. "He promised he wouldn't expect anything."