Before Sam had a chance to comment on exactly what he thought of Emma Witherspoon, the grandfather clock in the parlor chimed. Glancing up at the time, he picked up his hat. "If you're coming to the station with us, let's go."
Sam's throat tightened, and he found his knees were a bit wobbly when he left the house and gathered the children around him, memorizing every detail. He tried to still the quake in his voice when he spoke. "It's time to go."
***
Emma shouldn't be here. Sam Jenkins had told her to stay out of his business, hadn't he? So what had possessed her to walk two miles to the train station today of all days?
He was putting his children on the train today. So what? She had just as much right to be at the train station as he did. She had business there.
No, she had to admit to herself, the package in her arms didn't have to be sent today, but there was no reason she shouldn't put it on today's train, was there? If Sam Jenkins and his children happened to show up while she was there, it wasn't her fault.
Emma opened the door to the depot and stepped inside. The station master, Oliver Grady, turned and smiled when he recognized her. "Morning, Emma. What brings you all the way down here?"
"I have a package to go to St. Louis, please," Emma replied. And I have to try one last time to stop Sam Jenkins from sending his children away.
"Sure thing," Oliver said, taking the box from her. Shifting his spectacles further up his nose, he peered at the address on the package. "A gift?" he asked.
Emma shook her head. "A few of my father's things I thought Uncle John might like."
"I'm sure he will," Oliver agreed. Turning away from her, he placed the box on a scale behind the counter and waited until the pointer stopped. As he wrote the number in a notebook beside him, he told Emma the cost.
Emma counted out some coins from her reticule and handed them to him. As the coins passed from her hand to his, their fingers touched. Oliver's hand closed over hers.
"Your hands are chilled, Emma," he said, rubbing his thumb across her palm.
Emma pulled her hand away. "Did I miss the train?" she asked, changing the subject. She tried to make the question appear to be a casual inquiry, but even she could hear the anxiety in her voice.
Oliver gave her a curious glance. "Nope," he replied. "Should be arriving in ..." He paused and looked up at the clock beside the counter, "Twelve minutes."
Twelve minutes.
Surely Mr. Jenkins and the children would have arrived by now if he still intended to send them away. He must have reconsidered. Thank Heavens. Emma couldn't contain her happiness.
"Wonderful," Emma said, feeling her face break into a grin. Then a thought occurred to her and her smile disappeared. "That is the train that goes to Boston, isn't it?"
Oliver's eyes narrowed, and a frown creased his brow. "Yep. Sure does. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," she lied. "I've thought of taking a trip to Boston one of these days, that's all."
"Didn't you see Boston when you were back east at school?" he asked.
Emma shook her head. "No. I lived in Philadephia."
"Same thing," Oliver pointed out. "Big city. Too many people."
Emma smiled. "That's true, I suppose."
"Nope," Oliver insisted. "I'll stay right here where you can breathe clean air and move around without bumping into people. Besides, there's folks here that mean a lot to me."
His meaning wasn't lost on Emma. Ever since she'd met Oliver at the church Christmas social, he'd made no bones about his attraction to her.
"I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now," he went on. "Emma--"
She couldn't deal with Oliver right now. "I have to go."
"I just want to--"
"I'll see you later, Oliver. You'll be sure to put the package on the train, won't you?"