Emma's Wish

Even Emma.

The thought made him feel almost physically ill. How could he go through his life without Emma? She exasperated him at times with her impulsive behavior and her refusal to obey him like a wife should, but she also made him laugh, made him see the good things in life, made him see the good in himself.

But if he lost the children, he'd lose Emma anyway. She agreed to marry him because she wanted to be a mother. Without the children, she'd have no reason to stay.

Visions of his life without her kept him awake until the first streaks of dawn peeked over the horizon.

Chapter 13

Jonas McCallum's office took up one of the rooms above the barbershop on Charity's main street. His shingle hung right beneath the red-and-white striped pole protruding from the on the side of the weathered wooden building.

Sam gripped Emma's hand as they made their way up the stairs and through the open door into a small office. Worn leather-bound books and piles of papers blanketed every available surface, even stacked on the floor so that they seemed to be holding the walls. A framed diploma hung at a crooked angle on the wall beside the window.

Behind a massive oak desk that took up the greater part of the room, a man looked up when they entered. He reminded Sam of St. Nick, at least what he remembered of a sketch he'd seen when he was a boy. For some reason, the resemblance relaxed Sam, even though rationally there was no reason to trust the man just because he had a bushy white beard and rosy cheeks.

"Well, come on in," Jonas puffed, struggling to extricate himself from the chair behind his desk. Offering his hand, he took Sam's in a tight grip. "The name's Jonas McCallum."

Sam introduced himself and Emma.

"Glad to meet you," the lawye

r said, pumping Sam's hand. Then, turning to Emma, he winked. "I knew your daddy well," he said. "He was a good man."

"Yes, he was."

"Well, now, sit yourselves down and tell me what the trouble is." Then he chuckled, his cheeks turning even pinker. "Guess I should clear a spot for you," he said, gathering up a heap of newspapers off a leather armchair and plopping them on the floor in the corner. "Gotta keep up with the news," he said as a way of explanation.

Emma sat down, perching herself on the edge of the chair. Sam took the other, his long body folding into its depths. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Mr. McCallum--" Sam began.

"Hold it right there, son." The lawyer sank into his chair then held out his hand to stop Sam. "If I'm going to help you with whatever your problem is, I think we need to get rid of the formalities right off. The name's Jonas. Now, Sam - Emma," he added, giving her a grin, "what can I do for the two of you?"

Sam gave him a weak smile and took an envelope out of his pocket containing the papers the Howards' attorney had delivered the day before. He handed them to Jonas, but the lawyer didn't look at them. Instead, he tossed them onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. "Before I look at those, tell me what's going on."

Whether the man could practice law was something only time would tell, but at least he was friendly. Emma seemed to like him, too, Sam thought, giving his wife a sidelong glance. She seemed more relaxed than she had in days.

Jonas listened carefully while Sam explained the situation, interrupting him occasionally to clarify a point. Finally, when Sam was finished, Jonas opened the envelope and scanned the documents. A frown wrinkled his forehead and he let out a soft whistle. Sam's heart plummeted. This was not a good sign.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"They've hired Jackson Ambrose."

"You know him?"

"I know of him. The man has quite a reputation in these parts. But don't you worry, son. Just because the man has a fancy brass plaque on his door doesn't mean he's any match for Jonas P. McCallum."

Maybe not, but Sam wasn't so sure. It did mean he could afford a brass plaque, not a dried-up piece of wood with a name burned into it. Surely that said something about his success and the type of clients he represented. And the man must win his cases, otherwise word would have spread and he wouldn't be in business long.

Jonas picked up the sheaf of papers on his desk again and began to thumb through them, muttering here and there as he read the legal documents. At one point, he frowned, his gaze lifting to the ceiling as if he was thinking.

"What is it?" Sam asked, worried.

Jonas waved away his question. "Nothing. Nothing at all." Then he continued to read until he'd finished the last page.

"The children mentioned here are your natural children?" Jonas asked.

Sam nodded.