Emma's Wish

by Margery Scott

  She looked up at Sam, and her heart flipped over. He was wearing the same suit of clothes he'd worn on their wedding day, and if anything, he looked even more handsome. The last time she'd seen him in these clothes, he’d been a stranger. Now, she knew him well, more intimately than she'd ever known a man. Her face heated at the memory of his touch, and a deep longing flowed through her.

  Mercy, what was wrong with her? This was hardly the time to let her thoughts wander.

  Sam squeezed her hand, and his heat raced through her. With her hand buried in Sam's, she felt safe, secure. "Ready?" he asked with a crooked smile.

  Emma nodded. "Do you think I look motherly enough?"

  Sam took a step back, but still kept her hand in his. His eyes twinkled. "I wish my mother had looked like you."

  "This is not the time for jokes."

  "Who's joking?"

  Emma glared at him, but she couldn't prevent the warmth inside her that his words created.

  "You look fine, Emma. Now let's get this over with."

  Taking a deep breath, Emma walked with Sam up the chipped stone pathway to the courthouse.

  The courtroom their case had been assigned to reminded Emma of a small church. A center aisle ran between six rows of oak pews. A short railing then divided the room. In front of the railing, there were two tables with several empty chairs tucked in around them. At the front of the room, the judge's bench and a witness stand sat on a raised dais. The wood gleamed, and she automatically whispered when she spoke.

  "Where's Jonas?" she asked Sam. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

  As if she'd spirited him to appear, Jonas waddled around the corner, his ruddy face flushed with exertion. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead and rammed the fabric square back into his jacket. "Well, howdy, folks," he boomed. His voice echoed in the empty room.

  "Morning, Jonas," Sam said. The two men shook hands.

  Jonas' gaze slid over Emma, then he nodded in approval. "Fine. Just fine."

  "We're a little early," Emma said softly. "We were worried we'd be late and--"

  Jonas waved away her explanation. He took out a silver engraved pocket watch from his vest and opened it. "We still have fifteen minutes before we're scheduled to begin. I'm glad you're here, because there's a couple of things I want to go over before we start. Let's sit down."

  Sam held a chair for Emma, then sat down beside her. Jonas sat opposite them and leaned his elbows on the table. "The judge's name is Carstairs. From what I've been able to find out, he's old-fashioned and he doesn't put up with any nonsense in his courtroom. No political aspirations as far as I know. And he's fair."

  "I suppose that's all we can hope for," Sam muttered.

  Jonas nodded as the door opened and the Howards entered. Winston was dressed impeccably in a navy suit and starched white shirt. Mrs. Howard, on the other hand, was adorned from head to toe in bright yellow, from the feather in the hat perched on her hair to the yellow slippers. A parasol ringed with yellow feathers completed the look.

  Jonas leaned across to Sam and Emma. "Kinda looks like a canary, doesn't she?"

  Emma couldn't stop herself from smiling. She'd thought precisely the same thing.

  "That's one point in our favor," Jonas went on. "Judge Carstairs is the conservative type. Her get-up will put him off right from the start. That's why I made a point of telling you to look as plain and insignificant as possible."

  As the Howards passed them and took their seats at the other table, Winston glared at Emma. She almost flinched at the pure hatred in his eyes.

  A tall mustached gentleman carrying a leather satchel followed the Howards into the courtroom. Emma's lips threatened to part in a grin as she took in the man's attempts to cover his balding pate by coming a few strands of chestnut brown hair across it. This must be Jackson Ambrose, their attorney.

  In the next few minutes, the courtroom filled with spectators. Emma was gratified to see so many of their friends had come to support them. She was surprised to see Amanda and James, since Amanda was so close to delivering their child. Amanda gave Emma an encouraging smile, then sat down with James directly behind them. Fred and Lou took a seat to their right. The town doctor, the minister who'd married them, even some folks she'd never seen before filed into the courtroom and took up places to watch the proceedings.

  Finally, the judge entered through a door beside his bench and sat down.

  "Now, I've read over the documents submitted to me, so we can dispense with the formalities. This is not a trial. I want that made perfectly clear. This is a hearing to decide what's best for the three minors in question. Are the children present?"

  Jonas stood up. "No, Your Honor."

  "Fine. No point in exposing them to the unpleasantries of adults who can't get along."

  Jonas sat back down.

  "Anybody got anything to say before we get started?"

  Winston bounded out of his chair. His attorney made a futile attempt to grasp at his sleeve to stop him from speaking. "Your Honor," Winston said. His booming voice filled the room. "Are you by any chance related to Garth Carstairs of the Boston Carstairs?"

  The judge seemed a little taken aback. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact I am."

  Winston sent a triumphant glance in Emma and Sam's direction. "Garth and his wife are dear, dear friends of ours. Wonderful people," he gushed.

  The judge didn't acknowledge the fact they had something in common. Instead, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bench. "Mr. Howard, we are not gathered here to discuss mutual acquaintances. Now please sit down."

  "Why ... of course ..." Winston blustered, then sank back into his chair. His attorney leaned over and spoke to him, and Winston nodded, but stayed silent.

  Judge Carstairs spoke. "Are we ready to proceed now?"

  Both sides answered appropriately.

  "Mr. Ambrose? Call your first witness," the judge ordered, leaning back in his chair.

  The attorney stood up. "Before I do, Your Honor, I would like to enter some letters of reference on my clients' behalf. Since they are far from home, it's impossible to call character witnesses to testify. Mr. Howard has, however, brought with him several letters from prominent citizens in Boston who will vouch for their character and their ability to provide a home for these children."

  The judge waved the attorney forward, and took the letters from him. For several moments, he scanned the papers, then set them down.

  "Your Honor, would you mind if I have a look at those?" Jonas asked, rising and crossing to the judge's bench.

  "Not at all." The judge handed Jonas the pile of papers.

  Silence settled over the courtroom as Jonas sat down and he and Sam perused the letters. Emma watched as Sam and Jonas whispered between themselves, but she couldn't hear what they were saying.

  Finally, Jonas looked up. "Thank you, Your Honor."

  "Mr. Ambrose?" the judge said. "Go ahead."

  The attorney's voice filled the silent courtroom. "I call Mr. Winston Howard."

  Winston stood up and slowly made his way to the witness stand. As he sat down, his gaze met Sam's. Winston smirked, then turned his attention to his attorney.

  "Mr. Howard," the attorney began. "You are seeking custody of your three grandchildren. Is that correct?"

  Winston nodded. "That's correct."

  "I only have one question." He paused, as if to emphasize it. "Why?"

  As if he'd memorized his speech, Winston began to recite the reasons he'd chosen to fight Sam and Emma for the children - how he'd lost his only child, how much he wanted to spend time with his only grandchildren - how he could give them the best education money could buy - how he could provide them with every advantage in life. He went on for almost fifteen minutes, until finally the judge interrupted. "How long has it been since you've seen these children?"

  Winston turned to face the judge. "We'd never seen the youngest until now, so it's probably been four or five yea
rs."

  "Any particular reason you haven't visited sooner?"

  Winston's face flushed. "Why ... I'm a busy man, Your Honor. The distance between Boston and Texas--"

  The judge cut him off. "You managed to find the time to make the trip this time, though, didn't you?"

  "I had to make arrangements--"

  The judge nodded slightly, then turned his attention to the papers in front of him. Picking up his pen, he made a note. "Go ahead, Mr. Ambrose."

  "I'm finished, Your Honor."

  Then it was Jonas's turn to ask the questions. He got up and tucked his thumbs into his belt. "Mr. Howard, did you approve of your daughter marrying Sam Jenkins?"

  Winston's gaze swept the courtroom, finally settling on Sam. "Absolutely not."

  "Why not?"

  "Sam Jenkins wasn't fit to be in the same room as my daughter."

  "But your daughter loved him?"

  "She didn't love him," Winston protested. "She married him to spite me."

  "To spite you. Was your daughter in the habit of disobeying you?"

  "No, not at all. But she was unhappy--"

  "You're trying to tell this court you can provide a loving home for your grandchildren, yet you couldn't provide one for your own daughter."

  The Howards' attorney jumped up. "I object."

  "Sit down, Mr. Ambrose", the judge ordered. He sat down and began to scribble.

  "And when they decided to come west," Jonas went on, "did you approve?"

  "No."

  "Isn't it true you tried to bribe your daughter to leave my client and stay in Boston?"

  Winston's glance slid to his attorney. Emma noticed him nod slightly. "It wasn't bribery. I merely offered to help her to re-establish herself as a member of society without him." Winston answered finally.

  "But she left anyway."

  "Yes."

  "Hmm," Jonas muttered, as if he was speaking only to himself. "Strange that a loving daughter would leave her family if she cared about them that much ..."

  "Your Honor," Mr. Ambrose interrupted, "I object to Mr. McCallum's insinuations."

  "Sustained." The judge looked at Jonas. "Please restrict yourself to questions, Mr. McCallum, not editorials."

  "My apologies, Your Honor." He crossed to the table and picked up the sheaf of letters. Choosing one, he read the signature. "Is this the minister of the church you and your family attend?"

  "Yes."

  "Is this the same church you bequeathed ten thousand dollars to?"

  "Yes."

  "I see." Picking up another letter, he read the name scrawled across the bottom. "And this?"

  "Why, everyone knows who he is. He's a United States senator."

  "You financially supported his campaign when he ran for office, didn't you?"

  "That's right."

  "And this," Jonas went on, taking yet another letter. The signature was smudged. "Who is this? Thomas? Thompson?"

  "Nicholas Thompson. Dr. Nicholas Thompson. The president of Summers College."

  "Is that the college with the Winston Howard Library?"

  Winston seemed surprised Jonas would know about it. "Why ... yes, yes it is."

  Jonas took a few steps away from Winston and smiled. "Tell me, Mr. Howard. Is there anyone who would say a good word about you that you haven't bought?"

  Mr. Ambrose bounded out of his chair. "I object."

  Jonas smiled in Emma's direction. "No further questions."

  ***

  The morning wore on. Mr. Ambrose called on Mrs. Howard. She perched on the edge of the seat on the witness stand, a handkerchief in her hand. Her fingers absently plucked at the lace edging as the attorney asked basically the same questions of her that he'd asked of her husband.

  Her responses echoed Winston's, yet Emma almost felt sorry for her by the time she was finished. Almost.

  Jonas seemed to be a little more gentle with her, as well. "Mrs. Howard," he asked. "Do you really think you're capable of raising three young children."

  She huffed, drawing herself up straighter. "Of course. We can afford to hire the best governesses to care for them."

  "And what about schooling? Didn't your daughter attend a boarding school?"

  "Yes. The Priscilla Merrifield School for Young Ladies. It's a wonderful school, very exclusive."

  "So it would be good for Becky."

  "Definitely."

  "And the boys?"

  She paused for a moment and glanced at Winston. She obviously wasn't prepared for this line of questioning. "Why ... they'd attend my husband's alma mater, of course."

  "And how old are children when they go to these schools?"

  She seemed to relax slightly. "I believe The Priscilla Merrifield School admits girls as young as seven. The boys could start immediately."

  "So what you're telling me is that you won't really be caring for these children at all, will you? You'll be shipping the boys off as soon as possible, and you're going to hire someone to look after Becky until she's seven and you can send her away, too." Florence's face reddened. "No ... that's not so ...

  "That's all." Jonas turned away from her and sat down beside Sam.

  Florence stepped down from the stand and slowly made her way back to her seat. Emma couldn't help but notice the fury on Winston's face as his gaze followed her. Her testimony had hurt the Howards' case.

  Maybe they had a chance after all.

  ***

  After lunch, Jonas called on a few of Emma and Sam's friends. Their testimony was short, and finally, he called Emma to the stand. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she crossed the courtroom, and her knees were quivering so violently she was terrified she'd crumple into a heap. Breathing deeply, she sat down.

  Over lunch, Jonas had commented how pleased he was with the way the morning had gone. All Emma had to do was answer the questions briefly, and not allow her emotions to get the best of her. As if that was possible. Her emotions were bubbling so close to the surface it was almost impossible for them not to spill over. He'd advised her to think about the questions carefully before she answered.

  Sam had held her hand all the way back from the hotel restaurant where they'd eaten lunch. Emma had merely pushed her food around on the plate, barely touching it. Now, her stomach churning, she was glad she hadn't eaten much.

  "Mrs. Jenkins?" Jonas's soft voice drew her attention. He gave her a smile, his eyes telling her he had confidence in her. "How long have you and Mr. Jenkins been married?"

  Fear trapped her voice, but she cleared her throat and spoke as clearly as she could. "Two months."

  "Happy?"

  That was an easy question. "Yes."

  "And the children - are they happy, too?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you have any other children?"

  "No."

  Emma felt herself relax. Jonas had said he'd start with easy questions to make her more comfortable. She could do this.

  "Do you feel you're a good mother to the children?"

  As he'd instructed, she paused and thought about her response. Finally, she answered. "I'm new to being a mother, and I suppose I've made some mistakes, but I love the children and I think we're learning together."

  "So you believe you've become a real family, and that you should stay together?"

  Emma's eyes brightened. "I do."

  "Let's talk about you and Sam. You two get along?"

  Emma smiled. "Yes, we do," she said confidently.

  "So even though you didn't know each other well when you married him, you've developed a friendship?"

  Friendship? Yes, she supposed it could be called that. But it was more, so much more.

  "Yes," she answered.

  As if he'd read her mind, he prodded, "Is that all?"

  Emma's brows knitted. What was he getting at? "Excuse me?"

  "You're just friends? Or have you both found out there's more to your marriage than you expected?"

  Mercy, how could she answer him without admitt
ing just how deeply those feelings ran? "I--"

  "Isn't it true that during your time together, you have fallen in love with your husband?"

  Emma's breath caught in her throat. She glanced around the courtroom. Every eye was on her, waiting for her response. The silence was overpowering.

  Sam's gaze met hers. She'd barely admitted it even to herself, but now she was under oath to tell the truth.

  "Yes, Mr. McCallum. I have."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins."

  Jonas winked at her as he turned away.

  Chapter 16

  Emma met Sam's gaze, and her heart fluttered. He was smiling at her with open admiration, and she smiled back. Her smile disappeared as Mr. Ambrose approached her and stared at her through narrowed eyes.

  "Mrs. Jenkins, is Mr. Jenkins your first husband?"

  Emma was surprised by the question. It was common knowledge she'd never been married before. "Why ... yes, he is."

  "How old are you?"

  "I don't see--"

  The judge leaned closer to her. "Answer the question, Mrs. Jenkins."

  "Twenty-three.”

  "Isn't that a little old to be marrying for the first time?"

  Emma felt her face heat. "I suppose so ..." she murmured.

  "You're an attractive woman, Mrs. Jenkins. Didn't you have any other offers of marriage?"

  Emma straightened. He was trying to embarrass her, to intimidate her. She couldn't allow him to fluster her thoughts. Think about your answers, Jonas had said. Taking a deep breath, she answered steadily. "I did have offers. I refused them."

  The attorney's eyes widened. "Oh? And why is that?"

  "I chose to remain single."

  Mr. Ambrose turned his back on her and faced the crowd. "You chose to remain single. Isn't that rather unusual?"

  "Well ... I suppose it is ..."

  "Yet you married a complete stranger. Can you explain to the court why you refused proposals of marriage from men you were already acquainted with, yet you chose to marry a virtual stranger, and take on the task of raising his three young children?"