The Path To Her Heart. Linda Ford

over Boothe. “Good.” She rubbed her hands together. “As soon as the kitchen is cleaned, let’s get started. We have a lot to do.”

      Boothe stared at her. Was he invisible? Wasn’t he allowed to be part of this? His eyes narrowed. Did she think he’d refuse simply because it was her idea? Or because she’d be there? Admittedly, a part of him rebelled at the idea of working with her. But what was he supposed to do? Sit by idly while everyone else made gifts for the children? And he was the only one with a child of his own. It simply wasn’t right. “I’ll help, too.”

      Emma gazed in his direction. “That’s very generous of you.” Her words sounded like she’d dragged them from the icebox.

      “You’re welcome. I’m proud to do my part.” Not giving her a chance to respond, he grabbed a handful of plates and strode to the kitchen.

      As he washed dishes, having appointed himself chief cook and bottle washer, his thoughts mocked him. Avoid her. You only have to see her at supper and breakfast. Stay away from her and her interfering ways. And the first time something comes up where you don’t have to be in the same room, jump right in and volunteer. Oh yes. He certainly made a wise move there.

      The evening barely got underway before he knew he’d made a mistake. Emma took control of the proceedings in such a high-handed way that he bit his tongue to keep from protesting. Only Aunt Ada and Loretta escaped her control as they retired to the front room, sorted through yarn and started on the mittens.

      Emma put out fabric on the table, some already cut into rag doll shapes, and gave Betty and Sarah each a job. She ordered Ed and Don to the corner of the room. “We don’t want to mess up Ada’s kitchen any more than necessary.” Ed and Don obeyed like young boys and immediately began sanding pieces. She looked at Boothe, shrugged and left him to decide what he wanted to do.

      He didn’t want to be ordered about, but he also didn’t want to be ignored as if she didn’t care to acknowledge his presence—maybe even his existence. “I’m going to try my hand at carving a propeller.” He grabbed a chair and joined Ed and Don in the corner.

      As they worked, they talked. And Boothe listened.

      “Any news from Kody and Charlotte?” asked Betty.

      Boothe learned that Kody was the Douglas’s son and he and his wife owned a ranch in the hills.

      “I haven’t seen them in a while,” Emma said. “I might have to go out there on my day off.”

      At the lonesome tone in her voice, Boothe glanced her way. Did nurses feel the same emotions as others? Somehow he expected they functioned like machines—bossy machines—with no concern about how people felt. That she’d reveal ordinary emotions surprised him.

      Two hours later, she stood. “That’s enough for tonight.” She looked at the doll Sarah was working on. “This is sweet.” Boothe glanced over. Sarah had embroidered a lifelike face.

      Betty threw down the doll she worked on. “Mine looks stupid. It has button eyes.”

      Emma retrieved it. “This is fine. And your sewing is so strong. It will stand up to a lot of loving. Why don’t you, Sarah, do the faces and you, Betty, stitch them together? That way you both get to do what you do best.”

      Betty puckered her mouth. “You aren’t just trying to butter me up?”

      Emma laughed. “I’m being practical.”

      Ed chuckled. “Betty, you know Emma doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean. Hey, look at my truck. Vroom, vroom.”

      Everyone laughed as he played with the wooden automobile he’d sanded to satin smoothness.

      Don exhibited his project—train wheels. “Now show us what you did,” he said to Boothe.

      Reluctantly, Boothe held out the propeller he worked on. “When I’m done, it should spin freely.”

      “We accomplished a lot.” Emma gathered together the sewing. Don put the wooden pieces into the box Pastor Douglas sent.

      Boothe assessed the toys. He tallied the items already cut out and did a quick estimate. Once the shapes were cut out, the work went quickly and could be done in the evenings. However, there needed to be a lot more pieces cut.

      Emma wiped the table. Boothe grabbed the broom as she reached for it and swept the floor.

      She paused at the box of wood and looked thoughtful. “We need to find someone to cut out more shapes for us.”

      The others had left the room so Boothe felt compelled to answer. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

      “You sound disapproving. Why?”

      He concentrated on sweeping up the wood dust. He hadn’t meant to sound like a man with a mouthful of vinegar.

      “Do you think you can protect yourself by pushing everyone away? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get lonely?”

      Her words slammed against his heart. Boothe stopped sweeping. He closed his eyes and squeezed the broom handle so hard that he felt a sliver stab his palm. No, he wasn’t lonely.

      Jessie cried out. Boothe dropped the broom and headed for their room. He’d checked Jessie several times throughout the evening and figured the temperature remained down. He resisted the temptation to take the poultice off and look underneath. Only Alyse’s words stopped him. She’d laughed at him when he tried to pull the poultice off his leg. “Stop trying to rush things. Let it do its work.”

      As he soothed Jessie from his nightmare, relieved his son seemed only normally warm from sleep, Boothe felt a great tear in his heart. He would endure loneliness to protect Jessie. He heard Emma still tidying. For a moment, he considered returning to the kitchen and her company. Instead, he stared out the window in to the dark, feeling the gloom settle into his soul.

      Chapter Five

      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