Chief Cook and Bottle Washer (22 page)

"Excuse me." Emma cleared her throat, forcing
away the choked tears. "Come and visit?"

"Yes. Often as we can get out here," Mrs.
Collins offered.

"You mean, you don't want to take Sammie
Jo–with you?"

The woman stared at Emma blankly for a second
then blinked. "Oh dear me, is that what you thought? But of course
it is. Oh my God. We've scared this poor girl silly, Sam. No wonder
she has no color."

"Whaddayamean?" Sam frowned down at his
wife.

"She thought we wanted to take the baby away
from her, didn't you, dear?"

"Well–yes. Don't you?" Emma turned to face
the woman.

Mrs. Collins blue eyes smiled at her. "Oh no,
dear. Not at all. We're too old to raise a child again. We've
retired and settled down and are looking forward to these restful
years. Sam hasn't been well, had a heart attack two years ago. He
pushes himself too hard and even though I'm healthy, I couldn't
take care of her and Mr. Collins. I'm smart enough to know that.
No–she needs a young woman–and man, too." the woman looked straight
at Deke when she said that.

Could her fears all have been for nothing?
Was it all this simple? She didn't have to do battle with anyone,
argue her case, hire a lawyer, worry herself silly, nor-lie to the
man she loved?

When Emma had no way of answering, Deke
answered for her. "Well, that's a load off her mind, I'm sure. Emma
worries about being a good enough mother."

Now for the first time Emma realized the
impact. "I'm a wreck." Everyone looked at her.

"I have been from the beginning." She felt so
humbled, so awkward. "Everything about being a mother scares me. I
love her, she's my life, but she's at the age, she's into
everything. Why, just the other day, she threw her elbow out of
socket trying to reach something. I'm not sure–"

"Oh that's nothing. Joel got into cleaning
fluid when he was a child. Oh yes, scared me out of ten years, I'm
sure. I thought I'd killed him. I did."

"She's not exaggerating. She'd set her
wedding rings in this stuff to clean 'em. Left it by the sink in a
little cup. Joel eyed it all afternoon then that night climbed a
chair and nosey little bugger that he was, tried to drink it. It
was a time none of us forgot very easily Things like that happen.
We rushed him to the hospital, and they pumped him and made him
drink and watched him for hours. And he bounced back like nothing
had happened. We nearly turned gray overnight."

"But that's all part of being a parent," Mrs.
Collins insisted. "No one is perfect, my dear. No matter how much
you love them, no matter how much you are there for them, you can't
sit around watching them 24 hours a day. Children are curious. It's
their nature. I'll leave my number and you call me anytime. Night
or day. Send me pictures, better yet, get a camcorder and send me a
tape."

Emma chuckled, the relief flowing through her
body was like a tide being loosened from the sea. Air rushed into
her lungs filling them with life. Her voice sounded like it had
come in from a fog. Life filled her again.

"I thought I was a terrible mother. And I
thought–" She let one tear escape now, but realized it was a happy
tear. "I thought you wanted to take her away. I was so afraid.
That's why I ran. After all, it was only a hand-written will."

Mrs. Collin put her arms around Emma.
"Perhaps if we'd come and she was crying and dirty, and bruised, we
might have thought that way. But anyone can see, she's been well
cared for."

Cal came through the front door just then and
Sammie Jo jumped out of Mr. Collins arms and ran to him.
"Papa."

Cal flushed bright red but scooped her up
into his arms. "Hello there Sweet Pea."

"Dad, this is Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Sammie
Jo's grandparents."

"Oh, excuse me," he said and started to put
the baby down.

"Don't on our account." Mr. Collins smiled.
"We can see she adores you."

"Goes both ways," Cal countered smoothing
Sammie Jo's curls from her face.

"Papa, horsey?"

"No darlin', not now. Maybe tomorrow we'll
ride the horse. She loves horses." Cal explained sitting down on
the couch beside Mr. Collins.

Emma stayed up way into the night talking
with Mrs. Collins after Deke insisted they stay at the ranch for
the weekend. Sammie Jo conked out in Emma's lap, a satisfied smile
to her lips as she snuggled in her arms.

"Tell me about Kate. I so want to know her,"
Mrs. Collins insisted.

Deke was in the kitchen polishing his boots,
but Emma couldn't be rude and not talk about Kate.

"She was twenty when she . . ."

"What made her decide to have the baby, I
mean, if she knew she was sick."

Emma slumped back into the rocker, her eyes
misting with memories she hadn't shared with anyone until now. Her
voice was choked. She hadn't talked about Kate to anyone. "Mrs.
Collins, you would have loved her."

"Please, please call me Margaret."

"All right, Margaret. Kate was full of life,
never letting her illness get the best of her. Even when she was
younger. She tried everything, playing softball, skating, dancing.
She'd do anything. Sometimes she'd pay for doing them, but she'd
keep on doing it, if she enjoyed it. She was so full of life, such
a risk taker. When she found out she was pregnant, she changed,
grew up a little, I guess. Still full of exuberance, but more
thoughtful. She decided for herself, after her parents begged her
not to try to have the child. She said it was her one and only
chance at motherhood and God must have deemed it so. She wouldn't
have missed it for the world. Oh, I wish you could have met her
too. She was the most wonderful mother in the world. How she loved
her baby."

"I only wish, Joel–"

Emma nodded, "I know. But in all fairness,
Kate knew what she was doing. Only–it was the only time I know of
in all her life that she actually thought things would work out.
She thought Joel would marry her. Even before she knew she was
pregnant."

"Poor girl. Joel never grew up. I suppose I
spoiled him. He was my only child. Another reason I don't want to
be solely responsible for another child in my life."

"Joel was a grown man. He made his own
choices, obviously," Emma commented wanting to comfort her somehow,
knowing what it felt like to lose someone you loved.

"And what will you tell Sammie Jo of her real
father?"

"That he was an exciting, handsome man, who
took too many chances and finally lost." Emma said lowly. "She
needn't know every detail."

"Thank you for that, Emma." Margaret heard
Deke in the kitchen and glanced that way. "Is there a chance you
might marry someday?"

Emma sighed heavily. "I doubt it. I'm just a
simple cook, and housekeeper, with a baby."

"Well, it's late, and I'm tired. I want to
rest up for tomorrow. We have a wonderful weekend ahead of us, and
I don't want to miss a moment of it. At least our trip here has
accomplished several things. It put both our minds to rest, yours
and mine, and it's given us a part of Joel he can never take
away."

"I'm glad," Emma smiled, and showed her to
her room.

The light was still on in the kitchen, but
Emma didn't go in. Instead she went to her room, kissed her baby
goodnight, and slept for ages.

The weekend went by in a blur, with Mr. and
Mrs. Collins meeting everyone on the ranch, touring it, and having
a blowout barbeque the night before they left.

Deke drove them back to Sweetewater on Sunday
afternoon where they picked up their car at the hotel.

It was Sunday night and all was quiet. Emma
had fixed a giant supper, to thank the Travers men for their
hospitality. Rusty had a date with Jennifer. Clint announced at
supper that he was thinking of joining the Jr. Rodeo Association in
Sweetwater. He thought maybe in his spare time he could teach the
younger set how to rodeo. Deke tried not to act shocked, or too
pleased, but realized Clint had finally decided to stay home. Jake
announced he was applying for some home courses this next semester,
so he'd be around too.

Cal took Sammie Jo out for a late evening
ride around the back pasture. Sammie Jo was screaming with joy and
anxious to show off her ability to sit the saddle.

Deke went out front on the porch.

Emma didn't know what tact to take with him.
She didn't know if he expected her to leave, or apologize or just
go on about her business and leave him alone. She felt
uncomfortable with him, and hated feeling that way.

"I guess I owe you an explanation," she
started as she joined him on the porch, drying her hands on a cup
towel.

"Nope," he said dryly.

"Of course I do. Unless–unless you want us to
leave?" She bit a nail and waited.

"Nope." his voice was low and husky.

She went to stand in front of him, facing
him. Her hands wrung the cup towel. "I wanted to tell you
everything from the beginning. But we–we sorta started out wrong.
You jumped to a few conclusions, and I let you."

"You sure did," he firmed his lips
together.

"I was afraid–of losing her. Afraid to trust
anyone."

"Yeah, I gathered that much." He shook his
head slowly, still not giving her the benefit of a glance in her
direction.

"When I realized you set such store in
honesty, it was too late to tell you. I was afraid you'd fire
me."

"Uh-huh," he added, nodding and moving
away.

"You would have fired me, wouldn't you?" She
asked coming to stand in front of him again.

"Probably."

Something was wrong. Something about this
whole conversation was wrong. He should be shouting at her about
now. He should be firing her now!

"So why didn't you?" She challenged her hands
going to her hips with exasperation.

"Beats me," he said casting her one last look
over his shoulder and walking off.

Emma's mouth dropped open, but nothing came
out.

For days she worried over what he said, and
what he didn't say. She hated this not knowing. Yet what was it she
wanted to know? He obviously wasn't mad enough to fire her. That
was good, wasn't it? She still had a job, a roof over her head, a
way of earning a living for her baby.

Her baby! God the words sounded so nice. At
last she could honestly call Sammie Jo her baby. The freedom to
love her and keep her with her always.

She needed time to enjoy it, to embrace
it.

The time had come and gone for the courts to
award Sammie Jo to her. A piece of paper. All for a piece of
paper.

But the tension that was mounting between her
and Deke was so tight they couldn't be in the same room without a
sizzle. Even Cal noticed it. No one seemed to want to be around
them lately. Not even Sammie Jo.

"Why don't you two settle your differences,
so the rest of us can relax?" Cal spouted one afternoon when Deke
stormed out the door for the barn.

"What's to settle? What can I say?" Emma
asked throwing her hands in the air in a gesture of
helplessness.

"Don't know, but you'd better get to it, gal.
He's steamin'."

"But–Cal?"

"Don't look at me, ask him." Cal pointed to
the barn.

"You don't think I will, do ya?" Emma
blurted, angry that everyone had suddenly turned against her in
favor of Deke.

"Nope," Cal answered in that typically
Travers' voice.

"Well I'll show you. Watch Sammie Jo for me.
I'm going to settle this once and for all. I may be packing my bags
when I come back, but at least I won't have to watch him storm
about any longer."

"Go get 'em girl," Cal called after her with
a chuckle.

Emma threw her apron in the air, letting it
flow to the floor, straightened her jeans and blew a tendril of
hair from her face as she marched with her head held high into the
barn.

A dim light in one stall told Emma, Deke was
still there.

She marched to the stall gate. "All right,
Deke Travers. Let's have this out, here and now. I won't have you
coming in every day and stomping about. What's wrong with you?"

"Shh-h." he raised his finger to his lips.
"Josey time's comin'."

"She's calving?"

"Tonight," he said getting to his feet, and
moving the lantern toward her.

"Can I help?" She asked, momentarily
distracted by the sight of the cow in labor.

"Not yet. Now what did you want to know?" He
asked staring down into her face.

She'd never seen him look quite so handsome.
The urges inside her nearly overtook good sense. She wished she
could touch that clean shaven cheek, kiss that stern set mouth,
hold that tensed up body.

"I–I can't work for you like this," She
began, moving away from the railing.

"No, why not?"

"You look and act like a thunder cloud about
to burst every time I'm around. What's wrong with you?"

"You haven't figured it out?" He growled with
a frown.

"No–I," she began but he was approaching her
now, with such purpose. She gulped, her hands began to sweat, her
lips trembled and her heart lurched as he swung the railing aside
and pushed her backward until she was up against the barn wall, and
surrounded by him. Penned by his big arms, staying her there.

She wet her lips, her eyes searching his for
answers.

"Emma," he barely whispered, his head bent,
his lips hovering just above hers, his long finger caressing the
side of her cheek. He smiled down into her face. "What's wrong is I
can't keep my mind on my business anymore. I can't eat, think, tend
to cows, or sleep without thinking about you. I want you–" his
voice faltered like a hushed whisper, as his lips brushed slightly
against hers, like a feather teasing her. "I want you by my side,
working with me, laughing with me, encouraging me when I'm down,
holding my hand when I'm sick," his lips dipped against hers once
more, this time for longer, breath-taking moments. Long enough for
her to melt against him, to feel absorbed by him. "I want you all
the time. I want Sammie Jo too. I want her to have my name not just
my love. I want us to sleep together, love together, be with each
other for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you Emma."