"Can it wait until morning?"
Emma paused and gave him a curious look. "I suppose it could, but it'll only take me a few minutes. Then I'm all yours."
He sure hoped that would be the case once he'd said what he intended to say. If he didn't mess things up, she wouldn't be doing any more chores tonight.
"Good." He left Emma standing in the middle of the kitchen. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and a few seconds later, he returned with the parcel tucked under his arm.
Emma felt her excitement rising when she spied it. A present. For her. No one had cared enough about her to buy her a gift for such a long time.
Sam offered the parcel to Emma. "I hope you like it," he said.
"But ...you shouldn't have ..."
"Hush," Sam murmured, moving closer and placing his index finger over her lips. "You deserve it for all you've done for us."
Some of the joy faded from the moment. It was a gratitude gift. Nothing more. She'd been a fool to think
even for a moment that it was anything more than that.
With trembling fingers, she untied the string and opened the paper.
Her smile faded. She recognized the dress she'd admired in the window of the mercantile. A dress she would never be able to wear.. "Oh ..." she whispered, lifting the dress from the wrapping paper. The silky fabric slid across her arms and fell in soft folds.
Emma's gaze lifted to his. "Sam, you really shouldn't have ..."
Sam's expectant gaze faltered. Concern replaced the happiness she'd seen in his eyes. "Don't you like it? Libby said it was the latest style and ...."
"I love it. It's not that." How could she refuse his gift without hurting his feelings. She'd never want to hurt him. "But Sam, when would I wear a dress like this?"
"You could wear it for me," he said, his voice husky.
Emma's breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to flutter beneath her breast. He was looking at her with such undisguised desire, Emma had to look away. They were talking about a dress, but the meaning behind his words was clear.
And what was worse, she wanted nothing more at this moment than to accept his unspoken proposal, to feel his strong arms around her, to know his touch. But how could she? How could she tell him the truth? That beneath her high collars and long sleeves, she was anything but desirable. That even he, who was the kindest and most honorable man she'd ever known, would turn from her in disgust.
A loud wail from the floor above split the silence. "Mama!"
"It's Becky," Emma said, handing the package back to Sam. "I'll go see to her."
Emma raced from the kitchen and was already on the bottom stair when she heard Sam's voice. "Think about it, Emma."
***
"Here we are." Sam drew the wagon to a stop on a grassy knoll overlooking a stream that gurgled as it flowed over small pebbles and rocks. The children scrambled out of the wagon, eager to explore. Emma handed the wicker picnic basket to Nathan. "Would you mind putting it under that tree?" she said, pointing to a live oak nearby.
"You want me to take something?" Joseph asked, just as Becky noticed the sparkling water and ran towards it. Joseph raced after her.
"Isn't it lovely?" Emma said to Sam as she took in the beauty surrounding her.
"Sure is," Sam replied softly. He'd never been here before, didn't even know such a place existed. Of course, he'd never had much time to waste on picnics before, either. "How'd you know about this place?"
"I was born and raised here, remember? We used to come here to catch tadpoles in the summer--"
"Tadpoles? There's tadpoles in the water here?" Nathan's eyes were like saucers. "Can we go catch some, huh? Can we, Pa?"
"You don't have anything to put them in," Sam said. "If I'd known--"
Emma eyed him with amused tolerance. "Sam, give me some credit." Reaching into a bushel basket in the back of the wagon, Emma extracted a tin can and handed it to Nathan. "You should always be prepared," she said with a laugh. "You never know when you might have a chance to catch tadpoles."