Treasuring Emma (25 page)

“You don’t have to—”

But he was gone before she could finish the sentence. Emma shrugged and looked at Magdalena. “Men are strange, don’t you think?” The baby sighed and leaned her head against Emma’s shoulder. Emma rubbed her back and closed her eyes. Love welled up inside her, and although it was silly and maybe even delusional, for a moment she imagined she was holding her own baby. Hers and Adam’s.

Grossmammi
shuffled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. “Ah. There’s
mei grosskinskind
.”

Emma turned. “
Ach
, you sound terrible.” She went to her and held the back of her hand against her grandmother’s forehead. “You have a fever.”

“Just a touch.” The old woman sounded like she had swallowed a handful of gravel and a few pieces had lodged in her throat. “I came down for some tea.”

“I’ll make it. You sit down.” Emma looked around for a safe place to put Magdalena. The baby wasn’t walking, yet she could zip around on her hands and knees almost faster than Emma could catch her.

Typical of Clara not to bring a high chair or playpen. Emma propped the child on her hip and set about making the tea.

“I heard voices while I was coming downstairs.”
Grossmammi
leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, as if the effort had drained her of strength. She coughed into her handkerchief. “I take it Clara and Peter were here. Where are the
buwe
?”

“Helping in the shop, I guess.” Emma placed the kettle on the stovetop and turned on the gas burner. She stared at the blue flame as if it might hold answers to her dilemma. “Adam was here. He went out to the barn.”

“I hope to clean it out.”

“I didn’t ask.” She didn’t want to be beholden to him. But the barn’s manure pile did need to be shoveled out. If Adam wanted to do it, Emma wasn’t going to argue with him about it.

She didn’t want to argue about anything anymore. Not with Adam, or Clara, or anyone. Not even with herself. She craved peace, and getting upset every moment wouldn’t bring her that peace.

The kettle whistled. Emma balanced Magdalena on her hip and carefully poured hot water over the tea leaves in the bottom of the cup.
Grossmammi
liked her medicinal tea loose, not wrapped up in cheesecloth like her other homemade teas.

“You sit down right here by great-grandma.” Emma put Magdalena in the chair next to
Grossmammi
, and the old woman held on to the child while Emma brought the tea.

“That’s
gut
.
Danki
, Emma.”

“I’m worried about you.” Emma picked up Magdalena and settled her in her lap. “You’re getting worse each day.”

The teacup trembled in her grandmother’s hands. “I’m just about through the worst of it.” Yet her red cheeks contrasted with her pale lips. “I should feel better in the morning.”

“If not, I’m taking you to the doctor.” Suddenly she remembered about Dill. She couldn’t use their buggy. Maybe she could ask Norman Otto for a ride. Or call a taxi.

Or ask Adam
.

Even if she wanted to ask him, he was in the
bann
. She and her grandmother couldn’t accept a ride with him in his truck. But she realized that the idea of asking Adam for a favor didn’t leave as much of a sour taste in her mouth as it used to.

Had she come to the point where she could forgive him for leaving? She didn’t think so. She was supposed to forgive him, she knew. But she wondered if there would always be a deep, dark space in her heart that could never let it go.

After spending most of the morning and afternoon cleaning out the Shetlers’ barn, Adam was ready to call it a day. His empty belly growled. He should have stopped for lunch, but getting the barn finished was his top priority, and he had to admit he’d done a pretty good job.

He had shoveled out all the old manure and transported it in a wheelbarrow to a pile behind the barn, near the edge of the woods. That had taken five trips. He laid down fresh hay for Dill, cleaned out the dogs’ and cats’ food and water bowls, and filled them with fresh kibble and cold water. He spread a thin layer of clean straw on the barn floor and hung all the tools on pegs on the wall, the way Emma’s father used to.

Adam stretched his arms in front of him, working out the kinks in his muscles. His body appreciated the hard work. A sense of satisfaction filled him. A job well done. When Dill nickered, he grinned. Maybe it was his imagination, but the animals seemed happier too.

He strolled out of the barn, ready for a shower and some supper. Just as he stepped outside, he saw Mark King enter the Shetlers’ house. He frowned. The man didn’t need to be alone with Emma and Leona. Whatever he was up to, it couldn’t be good.

Adam started toward the house, then stopped and looked down at his clothes. He was filthy with dung and dirt. He reeked. He turned around and dashed home.

“Adam?” His mother called as he zipped past her in the kitchen.

“Shower.” He hurtled the stairs two at a time. Stripped down and took what had to be the fastest shower on record. Barely toweled off, he threw on a clean pair of broadfall pants and a short-sleeved yellow shirt, then shoved his arms into a clean jacket. His boots were dirty, so he slipped on his tennis shoes, ran downstairs, and skidded to a stop in front of his mother.

“What is going on?” She set down a wooden spoon on a small dish next to the stove. The fragrant scent of tender roasted chicken, homemade noodles, and thick broth filled the air. Chicken stew.

Adam’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. “Heading over to the Shetlers’.” An errant drip of water slid down his cheek from his still-damp hair.

“Don’t you want any chicken stew? It’s your favorite.”

His mouth watered as he peeked into the stewpot. “I’ll be back in a bit. Just, um, going to say hi to Leona.”

“Hmmm.” His mother turned her attention back to the stew. “And Emma, I suppose?”

“Right. Emma too.” He kissed his mother on the cheek. “See you later.”

He crossed the yard just as Mark and Emma came out on the front porch. Adam stopped in front of the bottom steps.

“Hey.” He winced at his breathless voice and leaned against the banister in what he hoped was a casual pose. “What’s going on?”

“I’m taking Emma for a walk.” Mark’s cold gaze met Adam’s, despite the grin glued on his face. “Alone.”

Adam wasn’t about to let that happen. “Really? Where to?”

“Just down the street.” Emma yawned. “I’m kind of tired tonight.” She looked at Mark. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind a short walk.”

Mark grinned, life suddenly entering his dead eyes. “Of course not. I’m happy to spend any time with you.”

Adam glanced at Emma to see if she was falling for this syrupy mush. To his relief, she seemed almost bored.

He turned to Mark and smiled, wider than he’d ever smiled before. “Mind if I join you?”

C
HAPTER
21

Mark watched Emma’s eyes light up at the question. “Sure,” she said, looking at Adam as if he’d offered her not only a rainbow but the pot of gold at the end of it.

“Great.” Adam grinned at Emma. A genuine smile. Another confirmation that Adam Otto was interested in Emma beyond friendship. And any idiot could see that she was in love with him. Mark bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood.

“But only if it’s okay with Mark,” Emma said. She looked at him, the brightness in her eyes dimming. Her question was obviously an afterthought.

“Actually, I’d hoped you and I could spend what little time we had tonight alone.” He faced Emma, summoning every bit of charm he could and forcing it into the tone of his voice. It wasn’t easy. He’d never been so unattracted to a woman in his life. But she didn’t matter to him. What she could give him did.

Adam held up his hands, his expression filled with innocence. But Mark recognized the false sincerity—he’d played that card any number of times. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. I just thought we could walk down the road a bit, like we used to. Remember, Emma?” His eyes locked with hers. “Especially when the weather was warm. We’d spend the evening walking the roads, talking until dark.”

Emma turned from Mark, nodding. “I remember,” she said softly.

Fury built within Mark. She
wanted
Adam to come with them. If he pushed the issue, he’d risk upsetting her.

Well, he could bide his time. It would take patience, but eventually he would be alone with Emma. Just not tonight.

Mark forced a smile. “Sure. Join us.”

“
Danki
for the invitation.” Adam nodded at Mark, but his eyes narrowed as he pulled the brim of his hat over his brow.

Mark and Emma descended the steps. But as they headed for the driveway, Adam inserted himself between the two of them. Emma crossed her arms over her thick chest as they walked down the road.

The evening grew cool as the sun began to set. Mark paid little attention to the muted colors in the sky. He had planned to use this time to worm information out of her. The square footage of the Shetlers’ large house. The acreage that accompanied it. The size of the barn. Whether she or her grandmother had money stashed away. He couldn’t ask the old hag. He could hardly stand to be in the same room with her.

Instead he had to listen to her and Adam rattle on about memories. Pleasant memories. Clara insisted Adam had broken Emma’s heart. Either Clara was wrong, or Emma had recovered. There was clearly a bond between the two of them, one that planted a seed of doubt in Mark that he would be able to win Emma over.

“The sky is
schee
tonight.” Emma hugged her arms closer to her body.

“I remember how you used to like watching the sunsets.” Adam slipped his jacket off and put it around her shoulders. “Better?”

She nodded, smiling shyly.

Mark couldn’t take it anymore. This was a total waste of time. He wouldn’t get anywhere with her tonight.

He stopped on the side of the road. “I just remembered I promised Peter I’d help him stack wood tonight.” He moved between her and Adam, making sure he blocked Adam’s view of her. And even though it was risky, he touched her fat cheek, the move so quick and slight Adam couldn’t have grabbed him if he tried. “Let’s do this again another time.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Alone.”

Mark moved away before Adam could react. He headed down the road toward Peter’s house, smiling at the look of shock on Emma’s face. He would get her alone, and soon. And once he got rid of Adam, he would have Emma—and more importantly, her house and land—all to himself.

Emma and Adam continued to walk down the road. The warmth of his jacket seeped through her sweater and dress, all the way to her skin. She breathed in his earthy scent and pressed the fabric against her. Giving her his coat was a kind thing to do. A romantic thing to do. But of course he hadn’t put his coat around her shoulders because he was attracted to her. He was just being nice. And even though Adam could be selfish and hurtful, more than anything, he was nice.

“Whew. I’m glad he’s gone.”

She looked at him. He strolled on the road while she walked on the outer edge of it. Behind him was a cornfield, picked clean, the dry, brown spears of dead stalks protruding from the ground. Above the field the sky stretched endlessly, awash with Emma’s favorite colors—cool lavender, warm peach, delicate pink. “Why are you glad he’s gone?”