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Emma breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fragrance of roses beside the porch.
"Emma?"
The voice filtered through Emma's thoughts. Turning, she saw Amanda walking towards her. Waddling would be a more accurate description, she thought with a smile. Her friend had only a short time left before giving birth to her first baby. Envy stabbed through Emma, as it always did when she saw a woman who was going to have a child of her own. She tamped it down and gave Amanda a bright smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."
"How are you?" Amanda asked. "What happened with the children? James said their father was frantic with worry."
Emma stopped sweeping and leaned the broom against the wall. "It was terrible," she said, then gave her an account of her confrontation with Sam Jenkins.
By the time she was finished, her voice was cracking, and she could feel tears stinging her eyes. She swallowed painfully. "If you'd seen the look Joseph gave me ..."
Amanda shook her head. "Oh, Emma. Not again. Whatever possessed you to promise them they could live with you? When are you going to learn to think things through before you make promises you can't keep."
Emma shrugged. "I know. I didn't mean to say anything. It just ... came out."
"And now--"
"They hate me," she said, taking the broom and giving the dirt on the steps a vicious sweep.
"I'm sure you're wrong."
"No. I'm not. They think I betrayed them. I don't know what to do," she muttered. "There must be a way."
"Did you suggest a housekeeper?"
"Yes. He refused."
"If the situation is as you say, I can understand why he'd want to send them to their grandparents. Although I doubt they'll be happy there."
Emma paused in her sweeping. "What do you mean?"
"I met Catherine when she and Sam first came to Charity. I remember her telling me once about her childhood. All I'm saying is that it didn't sound like one I'd want my children to have. But maybe it won't be for long."
"Perhaps."
"He may marry again and bring them home."
Emma considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't think so. He still seems to be despondent over his wife's death."
"There are plenty of women in town who would be happy to help him get over it. In fact, I'm sure if it wasn't for the fact that a woman would have to take on a ready-made family, he'd already be snatched up. He is handsome, don't you think?'"
Handsome? Emma hadn't given it much thought. But yes, she supposed he was, in a rugged sort of way. Dark hair that tended to curl, longer than the fashion, eyes so dark they appeared black beneath long lashes and straight brows, lips some women might consider sensual. But certainly not the type of man she'd ever be attracted to.
Then, the answer popped into her brain. "Amanda. That's it. Marriage. That's the perfect solution."
"Oh, no," Amanda cried. "I can see your brain working. Don't even think about it, Emma. You can't possibly find him a wife before tomorrow."
Emma sighed. "You're right. I just wish there was some way--"
"Let it go, Emma. There's nothing you can do. It's his decision."
"I know that, but something about those children ... oh, I can't explain it, but they seemed so ... alone ... and for the first time in my life, I felt ... whole."
"Whole?"
"Yes. As if I'd finally found a part of me that had been missing. Does that make sense?"
Amanda took Emma's hand and squeezed it. "Actually, it does. I felt exactly the same way when I met James. Luckily, he felt it too. But you can't solve this problem."
