Emmet glanced about, looked down at his shirt. “In my pocket?” His gaze grabbed her and held her in an invisible grasp.
She could not stop a jolt of something powerful and demanding from rushing through her like hot wind off the prairie, bringing both pleasure and pain. Close to his heart. Oh, if only it could be. But she must concentrate on what she could have. Not what was impossible. Find contentment. Trust God. “Colder,” she managed, though her voice felt distant.
“On the tray.” Ellie tapped it.
“You found me. So now you can hide.”
They played the game for a few more minutes. Time Louisa used to pull herself back to reality. When she felt she could face Emmet and speak without her heart exploding with empty, impossible dreams, she suggested they try reading.
“I don’t want to.” Ellie switched from happy to angry so fast, Louisa almost lost her balance.
Emmet looked as surprised. “This is your last lesson, then you can see what Louisa has in her peculiarly shaped parcel.”
“I don’t care.”
Louisa and Emmet stared at the child. They both knew she wanted very much to open the present.
Louisa handed the reader to Emmet. “Maybe for you?”
He opened to page one. “Would you read to me?”
Ellie shook her head.
“Tell you what. I’ll read a line then you read a line.” He read aloud, then paused for Ellie to continue.
She gave him a defiant stare.
Louisa found the earlier reader and handed it to Emmet. The same thing happened. Could Ellie not read, or was she being stubborn?
But all three of them were getting frustrated, and there seemed no point in trying to continue.
Louisa retrieved the storybook she’d begun two days ago. “I think that’s enough reading. Instead, I’ll read you some more of my story.” It was one of the Winnie the Pooh books. “I loved these stories. My father would read them with different voices for all the characters. Do you know how the stories came to be?”
Two blond heads shook in unison.
“Winnie was a real bear. During the Great War, a soldier from Winnipeg bought the bear cub from a hunter for twenty dollars. He took the bear with him to Britain, but when his troop was posted to France, he turned the bear over to the London Zoo. Christopher Robin was a real little boy. His father wrote these stories for him, making Christopher’s stuffed animals characters in them.”
Emmet and Ellie seemed mesmerized by the story.
Satisfaction slipped through Louisa like a sweet drink, and she read a chapter to the pair, wondering which one enjoyed it most. Emmet laughed as much as Ellie as Louisa made each character come alive.
She closed the book.
“Aw.” A duet of protest.
She grinned. “I never get tired of the stories.” She’d always thought how much fun it would be to read them to her own children, but reading them to Emmet and Ellie would have to be pleasure enough. She pushed away every trace of regret and reached for the parcel. “I think you earned this today.” She set the parcel on the tray.
Ellie gave Louisa a fleeting smile and Louisa let satisfaction sift through her.
With Emmet hanging over Ellie, as curious as his daughter, Ellie ripped the brown paper away to reveal a box. “What is it?”
“Open this.” She showed her how to pull open the front to reveal—
“Ooh.” Ellie stared.
Louisa grinned, pleased at the reaction. “It’s a dollhouse.”
“In complete detail,” Emmet said. “Where did you get this?”
“I made it one winter when I couldn’t do much else.” She handed a fat envelope to Ellie, who opened it to reveal a family of paper dolls with every imaginable outfit, from ball gowns to nightgowns to winter hats and muffs.
“What do you say, Ellie?” Emmet prompted.
“Thank you.” She flashed the first genuine smile Louisa had received, and it settled somewhere deep in her heart with the doggedness of a summer drought.
Louisa told herself she was happy simply to give the child a bit of pleasure during the weeks she must remain in bed. But she could not deny the ache that echoed in her thoughts. This was as close as she’d ever get to the dream she’d cherished as long as she could remember. It was that dream—of a husband and children of her own—that made her keep her old readers, made her spend countless hours creating a dollhouse. “You’re welcome. I hope you get lots of enjoyment out of it.”
Ellie was already outfitting dolls and placing them in various rooms of the house. Emmet bent close, his head touching Ellie’s as they arranged things.
“It’s time for me to leave.” Seeing them like this, the perfect father-daughter pair, triggered a thousand errant emotions in Louisa’s heart. Longing for things she could never have. Sorrow over dead dreams. And, she insisted, happiness that she had a hand in creating this sweet moment. “I’ll see you both again tomorrow.” She gathered up her belongings and tried to slip away before her emotions completely escaped her control.
But Emmet followed her out of the room, catching her elbow in his cupped hand as if she needed his gentle assistance. She told herself she was capable of navigating the kitchen and front room without help, but she couldn’t convince herself to pull away. Because her traitorous heart rejoiced in the touch.
He escorted her to her car, but rather than open the door as she expected, he turned her to face him. He brushed his fingers along her cheek and smiled. “It was incredibly generous of you to give that dollhouse and dolls to Ellie. I would think you’d want to keep it to give to your own children.”
The words sliced through her, leaving her insides torn and bleeding. She had made it for that precise purpose. But it was not to be.
She grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open. “I must go.” She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. She would not cry. What was the use? What could she do but throw herself upon God’s love and let Him carry her?
She turned and headed out of town, but she paused before the turnoff to cry out her pain to God and seek His strength. By the time she reached the house, she was smiling. No one must ever know the way her insides wept.
Chapter Seven
Emmet stared after Louisa long after she disappeared from sight. What had sent her scurrying away so suddenly? He’d been about to ask her to come back in the evening so they could discuss tomorrow’s plans. Now he didn’t know what to expect.
The generosity of her gift to Ellie filled him with awe and appreciation. She must have spent hours creating the dollhouse. Was she now regretting giving it away? Did that explain why she had suddenly turned tail and left in a rush? Didn’t seem she could be in a hurry for some other appointment. He retraced the conversation. Save it for your own children. Had those words sent her fleeing? Was she afraid to have children? Was her health too uncertain? Though he saw no evidence of poor constitution.
Perhaps she would explain later.
Whistling under his breath, he hurried back to check on Ellie. Apart from the reading lesson, it had been a good day. Thanks to Louisa. She would make a wonderful mother.
He told himself repeatedly he wasn’t interested in her, especially in that way, but he found it harder to believe.
Ellie grinned at him. “This is fun.” She had to be persuaded to set the dolls aside for lunch.
An hour later, the dishes were done and Ellie played happily with the dolls and dollhouse. Emmet sighed. He wasn’t used to idly passing time around the house. He needed open air. Hard physical work.
Auntie May glanced up from mending a shirt. “Why don’t you go do something useful? You’re bothering me with your pacing and sighing.”
“I wasn’t—” Only he was. “I need some hard work.”
“Then go find some. Me and Ellie will be okay by ourselves.” She raised her voice. “Won’t we, Ellie?”
“You’ll come back for supper, won’t you?” Ellie asked.
“Of course.” He meant to b
e back in case Louisa came by to discuss lessons. And to put Ellie to bed as well.
“I met Judd Kirk. He owns the Cotton place now. I’ll go out there and see if I can do something useful.”
He found Judd fixing fences and lent a hand.
“It’s a steady job,” Judd complained. “The wind blows tumbleweeds and Russian thistle that piles up along the fences then fills with dirt. Next thing I know, the fences are buried or blown down.”
As they worked, Judd talked. Emmet learned how his wife, Madge, had saved the family home from bank foreclosure. He told an amusing story about posing as a teacher and tutoring Louisa so he could spy on a man who had taken Judd’s mother’s money and lost it in some scheme.
“You must have enjoyed your little game.” His jaw hurt at the thought of Judd and Louisa poring over books and sharing secrets.
“Not at all. I wanted to be honest. I wanted to be Judd, an outdoorsman. I wanted to openly show my growing love for Madge.”
“So what happened?”
Judd leaned back to stretch his muscles. “First, Madge discovered my true identity. Then she discovered who I was watching and forced me to confront my reasons. In the end, I admitted I was trying to make things right in my own wisdom. Madge taught me to trust God for both justice and the future.”
Emmet leaned back too. Extracting the wire fence from the burden of weeds and dirt was hard work. He thought of Louisa singing “Trust and Obey.” “Seems the Morgan girls have a passion about trust.”
“I suppose they do. But so far as I can see, they’re right. God can run things much better than I can.” He returned to rescuing his fence.
Emmet threw his efforts into the work as well. He trusted. Of course he did. But not like Louisa. Her trust was like a sweet nectar permeating her thoughts, her actions and her attitudes. But unlike him, she hadn’t watched everything she valued get snatched away. Well, not quite everything, thank the good Lord. He had Ellie. And his determination to protect her. He’d failed in the past. And Ellie was paying. Poor little Button. But he’d be more diligent in the future.
Several hours later, he returned home sweaty but happy. Nothing like hard work to make a man appreciate life.
Ellie still played happily with the dolls and dollhouse and smiled at him as he stepped into the room to check on her. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“Auntie May helped me.”
That was a first. Emmet felt a mixture of relief that she had let someone else assist her, and a twinge of guilt because he hadn’t been available. It wasn’t as though he needed to do everything for her, only make sure it was done. Yet he couldn’t dismiss a tiny thread of regret.
He and Auntie May ate their supper at Ellie’s bedside to give her company. He let her play for a while after they finished. “It’s time to get you ready for bed.” He put the dolls and house away. “I’m afraid you will have to leave it until after your lessons are done tomorrow.”
Ellie protested, but already her eyes were drooping. By the time he’d sponged her and helped her brush her teeth, she could barely stay awake. One of Auntie May’s cats jumped up and curled up next to Ellie. Before he cleaned up the basin of water, both were asleep.
Auntie May sat in her rocker, her Bible on her lap…well, almost on her lap. Two cats lay between her knees and the book.
Emmet stared at the clock and then out the window. Would Louisa come tonight? But he saw no automobile approaching and sighed.
Auntie May tsked. “Go on outside and wait. I need some peace and quiet.”
Good idea. He flung open the door, and his heart grabbed at his throat. Louisa stood before him, her hand raised as if to knock. “Where did you come from? I almost ran over you.” His heart still bounced erratically. He stared past her. “Did your car break down?”
“I walked.”
“Walked? Why? Isn’t that a bit far?”
“Are you my mother?” Her voice was as soft as butterfly wings, but he didn’t miss the note of warning. And it triggered unreasonable emotions. Anger. Longing. A thousand fleeting things.
“Do I look like anyone’s mother?”
She giggled, and his anger evaporated. “Not like any I’ve seen, I must confess.” She tipped her head toward the empty street. “I walked to save gas.”
He wanted to say forget about saving gas. If something happened to her… But she was right. He wasn’t her mother, but he’d make sure she got home safely.
“I went to see Adele and get some more work for Ellie.” Louisa indicated her satchel.
“Come in.” They sat as before, but Louisa didn’t pull out any lesson plans.
“I asked if it’s possible Ellie doesn’t know how to read. She said the teacher should have informed you or dealt with it, if that were so. She gave me suggestions on how to present the work in a different way.”
“I assumed—” He tried to think if Ellie had ever read anything aloud to him. “Would she be able to do her written work if she can’t read?”
“I noticed she got you to write down her answers.”
“But at school? How could it be possible?” How could he have missed it? Wasn’t it his responsibility as her parent to know, rather than trusting someone else to take care of it?
Her eyes filled with distress. “I know. But none of that matters. If she can’t read, it’s up to us to help her catch up.”
Her assurance smoothed his insides. “What’s the plan?”
She opened her satchel then and pulled out papers. “I have a few ideas on how to turn reading into a game. I’ll work on that tonight.” She handed him arithmetic sheets. “In the meantime, she can go as fast as she wants in other areas. Shall we follow the same system we used this morning?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Good.” They reviewed the planned work, then she shoved everything except the arithmetic sheets into the satchel and pushed the chair back. “I must get home and do some preparation for tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“I won’t let you walk home alone.” He poked his head into the kitchen to tell Auntie May.
“Run along and have fun.” She winked.
Emmet opened his mouth to protest, explain he was only acting responsibly, then changed his mind. What was the point in arguing when a large portion of his brain cherished the same idea? Despite all his arguments to the contrary, he meant to enjoy her company.
They sauntered down the street, waving to a neighbor in a front yard and another on his porch. The voices of children at play carried on the air, as did the grit of dust in the dry wind. Yet he didn’t mind. The evening was soft with warmth, contentment and a pretty woman at his side. “I went out and helped Judd this afternoon.”
She missed a step. “You did? Why?”
“I got tired of hanging about the house. Ellie was so happy with the dollhouse, she didn’t care if I was there or not.”
Her cheery laugh broke forth. “I didn’t mean to replace you.”
“It was a very generous gift.”
“I have no need of it.” Again that sad note in her voice. Again he wondered at its cause. Tried not to think his explanation was correct. Louisa didn’t seem the kind to shy from physical challenges, but last time the words had sent her fleeing out the door. No door to use this time, but he didn’t want her retreating mentally. So he quickly sought another topic.
“Judd has some mighty big dreams for his farm.”
Another burst of laughter. “When the drought ends, he’s going to be a rich cattleman.”
“I think that hope keeps him busy mending fences.”
“He’s a hard worker.” She obviously adored her brother-in-law. “With big dreams.”
They walked in companionable silence for a few yards. “A person needs dreams.”
“Especially when circumstances offer nothing but defeat and disappointment.”
“The drought will end. So will the Depression.” H
e assumed that’s what she meant. “In the meantime, sing anyway. Right?”
She studied him, her look full of teasing regret. “You aren’t going to let me forget that, are you?”
“I hope you aren’t trying to.”
“Why?”
“Because if everyone gets down in the dumps, we are a doomed country. We need people who can still find joy and hope, despite everything.”
“You think that’s me? I believe that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said of me.”
“Why are you so surprised? Isn’t that exactly what you said you intend to do—sing anyway?”
“I said it. I meant it at the time, but sometimes I forget and let discouragement gain the upper hand.”
A shudder raked her shoulders. They had stopped walking to face each other, and he cupped her upper arm. “Louisa, don’t ever stop singing.”
She looked deep into his eyes, exploring, examining. He almost unlocked doors to her search, but he could not. There were some things that could not be shared, the pain too deep. These were burdens he must carry alone. For a fleeting second he remembered his mother and father, tried to recall their last day. Though if he’d known it was their last day…
A person knew some things too late.
A look of utmost peace and contentment filled her face. The look he’d come to expect and hope for. “Sing anyway,” she whispered.
“That’s right.” He tucked her hand around his elbow and they continued down the road. “So what big dreams do you have?”
“Sorry?”
“Didn’t we just decide a person needs big dreams? I wondered what yours are.”
If her hand hadn’t rested on his forearm, he might not have known she stiffened. “No big dreams, I guess. Seems every dream ends in a closed door.”
He looked down on her dark curls. Wished he could see her face. “Tell me about your shattered dreams.”
She made a little sound of protest. “They aren’t important. I hoped I could go to university. That’s not possible with money being in such short supply. In the meantime I am trying to take one day at a time, follow the Lord’s leading and not run ahead with plans of my own.”
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