Emma's Wish

Four days.

Four days until he lost the only worthwhile part of his life.

Chapter 1

Emma Witherspoon lifted the last apple pie from the oven and set it on the window ledge to cool. It was silly to bake so much when she lived alone, but it kept her busy, busy enough to make her forget her loneliness, at least for a few hours at a time.

Besides, other families appreciated her generosity when she shared the results of her baking sprees - her neighbour, Amanda, for one. Amanda hadn't been able to bake for at least three months, ever since she learned she was expecting a child and had been ordered to bed by her doctor. And Amanda's husband, James, had always raved about Emma's pies. The other two pies - well, she would donate them to the church for their weekly raffle.

Fatigue washed over her. It had been a long day, a lonely day, and there was no reason to stay up, except that sleep was always so elusive. Yet she had to try. Taking the lamp, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom and stripped off her clothes. The cool air against her skin after the heat of the day was such a relief, and for a moment, she wished that for just one day, she didn't have to tie herself into corsets and stays beneath her dresses.

The branches of a live oak scraping against the window drew Emma's attention. I really need to have someone trim those branches. She sighed. One more thing I have to deal with alone. Her throat tightened against a sob rising in her chest. In the weeks since her father's death, she’d had to handle many household crises she'd never expected - mice that had taken up residence in the root cellar, a broken window, and the shutter that had blown off its hinges during a severe storm. Not to mention the daily chores necessary to keep a large house.

But she'd survived.

Alone.

Emma felt her lips curve in a smile. Yes, she'd managed. She didn't need a man. Which was a good thing, since no man would want her. She would be alone for the rest of her life, and the sooner she accepted it, the better.

Refusing to dwell on her future, she slipped into a cotton nightdress and peered out the window. A pale moon hung in the sky, and a strong breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle through the air. Emma breathed deeply before she closed the window and went back downstairs to check on the pies.

She stopped short when she reached the kitchen. One of the pies was missing! How could that be? It was late, and the only creatures out and about at this time of night were raccoons and skunks. Had a raccoon stolen one?

Picking up the lamp and the rifle leaning against the wall in the corner of the kitchen, she gingerly opened the back door and stepped outside onto the back porch. Surely if a raccoon was the culprit, there would be some evidence. Yet she could see nothing - no empty pie pan, no crumbs, nothing.

A sudden loud bang made her jump, and a tiny squeak escaped her lips. Turning towards the sound, she noticed that the door to the wooden shed in the back corner of her yard was ajar, swaying back and forth as the wind caught it. The noise she'd heard was the door banging against the wall. Strange, she thought. She was positive she'd bolted it earlier when she'd finished hoeing the vegetable garden.

A gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes, and a fat droplet of rain landed on her nose. A jagged shaft of lightning streaked through the sky, followed a few moments later by a low rumbling of thunder in the distance.

Within seconds, the rain began to teem down. Soaked, Emma scurried across the yard. Rain lashed against her nightdress, pasting it to her skin. She shivered.

A muffled sound reached her ears. It seemed to be coming from inside the shed. Was the wind playing tricks on her? It had almost sounded like a sob. Ridiculous, she thought. Her imagination was just running wild.

Then she heard it again, and another sound, much deeper. Something was definitely inside the shed.

She began to tremble, but whether it was from the icy rain or fear, she couldn't say. Her heart thundered against her ribs.

With trembling hands, she tucked the butt of the rifle under her arm and aimed the barrel at the open door, praying that she could pull the trigger if it became necessary.

Carefully, she opened the shed door to allow the lantern light to illuminate the darkness. Her mouth was dry, and she could feel her heartbeat hammering in her throat as she took a small step inside. Silence. Slowly, she scanned the shadows, waiting.

Silence.

Silly, she chided herself. Just as she'd thought. Imagination.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she relaxed, easing the barrel of the rifle down until it hung by her side.

Turning to leave, a whimper stopped her in her tracks. The blood drained from her face when she saw two dark eyes staring out at her from behind an empty crate.

***

A tiny voice from the darkness cried out. "Don't shoot!"

What the devil--?

"Please don't kill us," the voice begged.

A child's voice.