Читать книгу The Path To Her Heart - Linda Ford - Страница 12

Emma hurried into the kitchen and laid out the yard goods she’d purchased at the store. If she cut out several dolls, the work would go faster. As Ed said, forty gifts was a lot. As she pinned the pattern pieces, Jessie bounced into the room singing a tuneless song. Boothe had assured everyone over breakfast that his son had slept well, but he’d let him stay home from school.

Emma smiled at Jessie. His eyes were bright and clear, his color good and he seemed about to erupt with pent-up energy. His eager smile made her want to hug him. “You must be feeling better.”

Jessie stopped jumping about and pulled his face into a dark frown. “My arm sure hurts a lot. I don’t think I’ll be able to go to school. Won’t be able to write, you know.”

Emma laughed at his sudden change in demeanor. Jessie’s recovery appeared to depend on being able to stay home. To test her theory, she said, “No more school today.”

Immediately Jessie went from a lifeless wooden puppet to an animated little boy. “What did you do today?”

What a fun child. She loved children who showed a little spark. “I went to work.” She paused, wondering how much of Boothe’s anger toward medicine Jessie absorbed. “At the hospital, remember?”

“My daddy says I must never go to a hospital.”

“Sometimes it’s the best place to be.”

Jessie squinted at her. “My daddy says you have to take care of yourself or let someone who loves you do it.”

Emma fought hard to mind her own business. She’d promised herself to do her best to get along with Boothe. Teaching his child the benefits of modern medicine would not accomplish that goal. She wouldn’t go so far as to directly go against his wishes but perhaps she could plant a little seed of reason. “Sometimes only a doctor can help you.” She decided to change the subject before it went any further. “Where’s your daddy?”

“He’s downstairs making something. I’m not ’lowed to go down there.” Jessie sighed long, communicating how sad it made him to have to obey his father’s orders.

“And Aunt Ada?” Emma continued to cut out the fabric.

“She went upstairs to check on Miss Loretta. Whatcha doing?”

Emma paused. Jessie would be one of the children receiving a gift. Should he see them before it was time? She glanced at the box holding the wooden cars and trains. Someone had covered it with a blanket. “We’re making rag dolls.” She guessed he wouldn’t care about the girls’ gifts.

“Dolls? Ech!”

Emma laughed. “Do you want one?”

Jessie scooted backward. “I’m no girl.”

Emma pretended to give him lots of study. Again, she noticed his fine clothes. From what Aunt Ada said, she gathered Boothe struggled to care for his son. “No work and trying to be both mother and father. It’s been rough,” she’d said. And yet the sweater and trousers looked expensive. Jessie regarded her with a wide-eyed expression. Something about this child appealed to her at a deep level.

She recognized her denied maternal instinct. She’d love a child of her own with the same spunk, the same golden glow, the same—

God, I again give You my desires. I want only to do what is right. I know You have set before me a responsibility, and I will not shirk it or regret it.

She waited a moment for peace and contentment to return.

“I ain’t no girl,” Jessie repeated.

“I’m not a girl,” she corrected. “And I can plainly see you’re a big strong boy.”

He pushed his chest out and lifted his chin.

Behind him the basement door clicked and he spun around. “Daddy, are you done now?”

Boothe stepped into the room, carrying a box. “For now.” He saw Emma at the table and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, Jessie?”

“Me and Miss Emma were talking.”

Emma’s cheeks burned with guilt. She kept her head down, afraid to meet Boothe’s gaze as she waited for Jessie to tell his father about their discussion over hospitals.

“She said I could have a doll.” Jessie’s comment dripped with disgust.

Boothe chuckled, pulling Emma’s gaze from her work. His eyes seemed softer, like the first gentle light of morning. He held her gaze for a heartbeat and then another. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating as something passed between them, something fragile, tenuous, unfamiliar and slightly frightening.

“I told her I’m not a girl.” Jessie’s voice sliced through the moment.

Boothe grinned at his son.