The Unexpected Bride (Montana Born Brides) (3 page)

Emma smiled brightly and walked forward. “Ooh-
kay,” she said to Jerome, “let’s get you sorted.” She opened the closet door and grabbed the changing mat.

Laurent watched as Emma knelt and set Jerome on the floor in a space clear of toys, smoothed out the mat and lifted the little boy onto it, then retrieved wipes and diapers. She took off her thick coat and knelt down again.
Her movements were quick, spare and competent, he noted. All the time, she was talking soothingly to Jerome who watched her, transfixed. Another amazing development: normally the child squirmed, wriggled and cried when anyone tried to change him. Laurent hated to admit it, but maybe the fairy princess had magical powers where his son was concerned…

Emma was up at dawn as usual.
She’d been at Copper Creek for almost a month now and she already had come to love this time of day, when the sun was coming up over the snow-clad peak of Copper Mountain and claiming its place in the clear blue sky over the green pastureland of Paradise Valley. She understood now why, here in Montana, it was known as the Big Sky: it was indeed endless, and beautiful and intense. Those last two words could also be used to describe her new boss, she thought. Laurent Fletcher was a good man but a troubled one. His emotional reticence—barriers he’d seemingly erected against the world—was proving to be the biggest hurdle for her to clear in helping his family to settle down and function happily. Laurent was pleasant enough—when she saw him, which wasn’t too often as he spent all of his days and a good part of his nights working his custom-built furniture business. But he’d made it plain from the start that she wasn’t what had been ordered, or indeed what he wanted—he was clearly unhappy that his father had intervened and hired help for his grandkids. She could understand how undermined by that he must feel, but nonetheless, there had been a couple of times since she’d arrived at Copper Creek when she’d been left wondering if she should quit.

However, on both occasions, she’d talked herself through it.
Though Laurent hadn’t been exactly welcoming to her, he wasn’t hostile either, and she was determined to prove herself. Apart from anything else, he was quiet and withdrawn with most people, even his children at times. And there were so many things that were good about this new job and this family. There was nothing for her to go back to in England, and she knew that she wanted to stay put and persevere.

She adored the children. Evie and Jerome were indeed little terrors and they had some behavioral challenges. But some of it was to be expected, given the loss of their mum.
She’d also watched Laurent’s uneasy relationship with them; he was better with Evie than with Jerome, with whom he seemed to lack a strong bond. However, they were essentially great kids—bright and affectionate—and she knew she was already making progress with them. They were starting to trust her and the routines she was building for them, and she had some exciting ideas she wanted to try out with them to settle them further.

She also liked their grandparents—Laurent’s parents—very much indeed, and she’d made a friend of the Fletchers’ housekeeper, Linda, a down-to-earth, friendly woman in her late fifties, who came in every day from her home in nearby Marietta, who was only too glad to fill her in on the family background and also chat about her own life in the charming western town, which Emma found fascinating. It was so different here from the life she’d known in England.
But she was already relishing the easy-going warmth of the people and the majestic, untamed presence of the Big Country. Yes, she wanted to stay if she could; here, it felt like anything was possible.

That thought cheered her up: she had something important to accomplish today and she needed her employer’s help.
She looked out of the window: she could see Laurent striding in the early February morning and across the icy yard to the barn where his workshop was housed, his broad shoulders set determinedly, Bobo trotting at his heels. He spent many hours over there; too many perhaps, she thought, as far as his kids were concerned. But she would try and catch him now to ask him. There had to be a way to reach the man…
Anything was possible.

When she found him, Laurent was on his haunches, his dark head bent, absorbed in making sure a wood bed frame was fitted together firmly. The workshop was heated, and Bobo was curled up drowsily nearby in an old armchair, though keeping one eye open and watching Emma as she came in.

Her attention was caught by the bed’s headboard which was leaning against a wall, and which was a visually striking construction of vertical bars, fashioned out of raw-looking, rough-grained, light-colored wood.

“Wow,” she said admiringly, “that’s really unusual.”

Laurent stopped and looked up at her. His expression fleetingly betrayed surprise, then something else that she couldn’t quite fathom. After a pause, he straightened up to his full height. Emma was aware of his muscular physique as it flexed and lengthened beneath his jeans and the cotton sweatshirt he wore under a thick woollen plaid shirt.

“
It’s part of the bedroom suite we’ve built for Marietta’s Great Wedding Giveaway, for the winning bride and groom’s first home.” He indicated an array of furniture nearby—a chest of drawers, a dressing table complete with mirror, a standing robe, an ottoman chest, a desk and two high-backed chairs—all in the same textured light wood. “We’ve used timber that was reclaimed and have handcrafted the pieces. I’m just adding the finishing touches now.”

“They’re gorgeous,” Emma replied with genuine admiration.
She’d already heard about the Grand Wedding Giveaway from Linda. It was being organized to celebrate the Graff Hotel’s centenary and refurbishment, by recreating the very first bridal contest which had taken place in 1914. The prize this year was fabulous and similar to the one a century earlier: a luxurious wedding, complete with all the trappings, and other gifts donated by the townspeople of Marietta. “If I were the bride, I’d be thrilled to have this in the bedroom of my new marital home.” She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the bedside cupboard near to her. “I don’t know much about the style in this part of the world. Most of my knowledge comes from cowboy movies. But it looks antique and as if it’s got local flavor?”

Emma was gratified when Laurent seemed to relax a little and cracked a brief smile—this had to be one of the most positive reactions she’d received from him in the time she’d been here—and she felt even more pleased when he appeared to want to engage with her and carry on the conversation.

“The style is traditional Western, based on the kind of furniture that would have been made around here in the late nineteenth century. So you’re on the right track with antiques, cowboys and the movies,” he told her. “We do a lot of research on local influences and craft traditions, including Native American art. We’ve a new line we’re launching this spring inspired by the Crow Nation.”

“That’s a local tribe, right?” Emma was determined to keep the momentum going by showing her interest. “I did do a little reading on the plane from London too; one of those tour guides.
I’d love to find out more about the region and its history while I’m here.”

Laurent’s smile widened a little further, and she thought he was going to say something else. He was handsome when he smiled. But then, suddenly, his expression shuttered and his good-looking features dropped back into their usual seriousness.
Emma was crestfallen. Somehow she’d said the wrong thing, or maybe she’d shown too much enthusiasm, which had made him retreat? Perhaps he was still considering letting her go?

“What can I do for you this morning, Emma?” Laurent asked, his rich-coffee tones business-like now.

“Oh! Yes!” She heard herself gabbling, his matter-of-fact manner reviving her nervousness, and silently chided herself to slow down. “I came to ask if I can borrow the truck before lunch to go into town? I need to get some bits and pieces for a game to help Evie and Jerome with mealtimes. I won’t be gone for long, and Linda said she’d stay and watch the kids while I’m out.”

“A game?” Laurent echoed, that now-familiar, wearily distrustful note in his voice.
“How can a game help when they already use every meal as an opportunity to play around? I’d say it’s time for them to sit down, stay sitting down and eat what’s on their plates, rather than pushing or throwing it about. ”

Emma took a deep breath. “I absolutely agree with you, Laurent.
But my idea is to harness their already playful energies into a game that will hopefully appeal to them, and encourage them to stay at the table and keep focused on eating.”

Laurent sighed. “And what does this game of yours consist of?”

“It’s a very simple concept, one that I learned from one of my tutors at college. She’d worked with children for many years before she became a lecturer, and she tried it a number of times with success in similar situations. Basically, I need some colored marbles and some large jars. “

“Marbles?
That’s kind of…retro…”

“Yes, it is.
But the idea is that Evie and Jerome will each have the possibility to collect marbles in their own jar, every time they sit up at the table and finish their food. The marble jars will be in the dining space, so that they can see how many they are stacking up. At the end of a period of time, when they’ve filled the jars to a certain level, and proved they have consistent good table manners and that they are eating well, they’ll get a reward.”

Laurent considered this.
“Can’t see Evie being captivated by collecting colored balls in a jar, Emma. She may be little, but she’s a modern kid, able to work my laptop and my cell phone. Doesn’t she need a more sophisticated incentive than that?”

“And what about Jerome?” Emma asked, curious as to why he’d not included his son.

He gave a sad smile. “Jerome seems to be…a bit of a late developer.”

For a moment, Emma was silent as she thought about his response.
Perhaps her observation had been right: Laurent hadn’t bonded as well as he should with Jerome and she wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that his wife had died giving birth to him? She decided not to call him on it. It was just another piece in the puzzle of this broken family. They were going to need a lot of time, patience and love to become whole again. She gathered her thoughts and her focus.

“I agree with you that Evie is a very bright, articulate child,” she said, “and Jerome needs some time and nurture to catch up to where he should be with his development. But…” Her passion for her project was spurring her on now. “I’ve noticed that both Evie and Jerome just love their simplest toys too, sometimes more than the
whizzy techno stuff. They adore those carved wooden farm animals you made for them. They spend hours with them, playing make-believe. We’ve got a whole ranch going in Evie’s bedroom now, you know.”

Laurent seemed taken aback at this piece of news, and Emma thought she detected a glow of pleasure flare briefly in his eyes.
“The kids are playing with the wooden animals? They seemed totally disinterested in them when they unwrapped them at Christmas.”

Emma smiled at him encouragingly.
“Kids can seem like they aren’t interested if they don’t know what to do with things. Sometimes they need to be given a context. I showed them how to put a pretend ranch together, using stuff lying around the house. You know, a green rug for grass, a box for a barn which we jollied up using Evie’s paintbox…”