The Path To Her Heart. Linda Ford

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      The meal was almost ready when he heard Emma return. A tightness across his shoulders relaxed. For the past twenty minutes, he wondered if he’d offended her so badly she decided not to come back. Perhaps she would find somewhere else to live. It would prove a relief for him if she did but he knew Aunt Ada needed her boarders, and despite his personal dislike of Emma, she was, no doubt, the sort of boarder Aunt Ada preferred.

      Emma slipped into her place at the far end of the table.

      He glanced her way as he placed a bowl mounded with creamy mashed potatoes in the center of the table. He’d done a good job with them, if he did say so himself, though it had taken some direction from Aunt Ada.

      He’d expected Emma to be subdued, even a bit sullen after the way he’d spoken to her, and the look of eager anticipation and excitement on her face made him narrow his eyes. Had she found somewhere else to live? Somewhere more welcoming? For Aunt Ada’s sake, he hoped not.

      “Where’s Jessie?” Betty asked.

      “He’s not feeling well. I’ve had to sponge him a couple of times to get his fever down.” He kept his voice firm to convince one and all he was competent to care for his son without medical interference.

      Emma studied him soberly but offered no more advice.

      The others murmured sympathy for the little boy.

      Loretta, the old dear, offered her own solution. “The boy needs a good dose of salts. That will fix him up in a snap.”

      Boothe almost laughed at the shock in Emma’s face. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Though he had no intention of doing such a thing.

      Emma’s eyes flashed. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he shook his head ever so slightly, silently reminding her of his warning. She shut her mouth and fixed him with a deadly look.

      He ducked to hide a smile. He almost enjoyed seeing her bristle.

      Amidst the general discussion as people dug into the food, complimenting both he and Aunt Ada, Boothe stole several glances at Emma. Her anger at him had disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced with the same eagerness she’d had when she returned. He wondered what sparked the flashing light in her eyes and again hoped she wouldn’t decide to move out.

      The food disappeared quickly. He helped Aunt Ada serve the butterscotch pudding she’d made earlier in the day. As everyone enjoyed the dessert, Emma leaned forward.

      “Listen everyone,” she began.

      Boothe waited for the announcement.

      “I went to visit Pastor and Mrs. Douglas this afternoon. You all know how difficult things have been for them this year with Pastor Douglas recovering from a stroke.”

      Boothe listened to the murmurs of acknowledgment. Was she going to move in with them?

      “They always make gifts for each child at the Christmas concert.” Emma edged forward and glanced around the table, her expression eager as she looked at each one until her gaze settled on Boothe. Then her eyes grew wary.

      Then she skipped past him and continued. “With all they’ve had to deal with, they haven’t got the gifts made. Mrs. Douglas was fretting about how to get thirty or forty gifts done in time. I thought we could do something to help. What do you think?”

      There was silence for a moment while everyone digested her request. For his part, Boothe had to work hard to keep from exhaling his relief over her announcement. Her excitement was only about taking over a project and getting them all involved.

      Betty spoke first. “Forty gifts? How on earth did they ever do it themselves?”

      Emma nodded. “I know. I wondered the same.”

      “What sort of things do they normally make?” Sarah asked.

      “Generally, wooden toys for the boys, dolls for the girls. and Mrs. Douglas said they also like to make sure every child gets a pair of mittens.”

      “Goodness,” Ed said. “Forty gifts.”

      “I thought if we worked in the evenings, making it a group project instead of reading our book…Just until this is done,” Emma added as the others protested. “Pastor Douglas sent the pattern for trucks and trains. He said if anyone can carve, you could make airplanes with little propellers that turn. Wait, I’ll show you.” She hurried СКАЧАТЬ