Emma's Wish

Emma's brows lifted. Nathan seemed to have a fair bit of insight into human nature.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

Nathan shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm glad they're gone."

Emma sighed. "Me, too, Nathan. Me, too."

For the rest of the afternoon, she worked, but she couldn't stop thinking about the events of the morning. Would Sam be angry with her? She didn't think so, considering he'd almost bodily thrown the Howards off his property the last time. Would he think she was wrong?

Perhaps she'd made matters worse. Perhaps they were trying to be amicable, and she'd ruined any chance of them coming to an agreement about the children.

She wished Sam would come home so she could talk to him, explain why she'd lost her temper. She only hoped he'd understand.

The day dragged interminably. She certainly had enough work to keep her busy, but her thoughts kept returning to the events of the morning and Mr. Howard's veiled threat. What else could he do to them?

They'd find out soon enough, she thought wryly, glancing at the calendar on the wall behind the kitchen door as she looked out yet again for any sign of Sam's return.

They'd find out in six days.

Chapter 15

The courthouse sat in the center of a large expanse of green lawn. It was a two-storey red brick building with tall white columns flanking oak double doors in the centre.

Emma's gaze was drawn to the portico above the doors. Engraved in the bricks were the words Fiat justitia, ruat caelum - Let justice be done, though the heavens should fail. She prayed that was true.

Sam held his hand for her to climb down from the wagon. She smoothed the skirt of her dress with trembling fingers, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Reaching up, she adjusted her bonnet to cover her hair.

The bonnet had been Jonas's suggestion, as had been the slate grey dress she was wearing. She had never liked this particular dress, but now she was thankful she hadn't thrown it away. In this case, it was important to look as matronly as possible.

She looked up at Sam, and her heart flipped over. He was wearing the same suit of clothes he'd worn on their wedding day, and if anything, he looked even more handsome. The last time she'd seen him in these clothes, he’d been a stranger. Now, she knew him well, more intimately than she'd ever known a man. Her face heated at the memory of his touch, and a deep longing flowed through her.

Mercy, what was wrong with her? This was hardly the time to let her thoughts wander.

Sam squeezed her hand, and his heat raced through her. With her hand buried in Sam's, she felt safe, secure. "Ready?" he asked with a crooked smile.

Emma nodded. "Do you think I look motherly enough?"

Sam took a step back, but still kept her hand in his. His eyes twinkled. "I wish my mother had looked like you."

"This is not the time for jokes."

"Who's joking?"

Emma glared at him, but she couldn't prevent the warmth inside her that his words created.

"You look fine, Emma. Now let's get this over with."

Taking a deep breath, Emma walked with Sam up the chipped stone pathway to the courthouse.

The courtroom their case had been assigned to reminded Emma of a small church. A center aisle ran between six rows of oak pews. A short railing then divided the room. In front of the railing, there were two tables with several empty chairs tucked in around them. At the front of the room, the judge's bench and a witness stand sat on a raised dais. The wood gleamed, and she automatically whispered when she spoke.

"Where's Jonas?" she asked Sam. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

As if she'd spirited him to appear, Jonas waddled around the corner, his ruddy face flushed with exertion. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead and rammed the fabric square back into his jacket. "Well, howdy, folks," he boomed. His voice echoed in the empty room.

"Morning, Jonas," Sam said. The two men shook hands.

Jonas' gaze slid over Emma, then he nodded in approval. "Fine. Just fine."