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Christopher appeared. “He’s under his bed, and he won’t come out.”
Emma sighed. “I’ll get him in a minute. You and Colton wash up for now.”
Placing the placid baby in a windup swing, Emma stepped into the galley kitchen and took a glass from the cupboard. “All I can offer you is water.”
Her matter-of-fact tone didn’t fool Amos. He had already guessed that the silent refrigerator stood empty. “I’d love that.” He nodded at the glass.
She filled it right from the tap, then handed it to him.
He drained it in three swallows, quelling a shudder at the swampy taste. “Did Candace tell you why she left me?” It embarrassed him to ask, but he had to know.
Emma took his glass back and set it on the countertop. “What she told me doesn’t matter, considering it was her problem, not yours. Like I said in my letter, she was never content with what she had. Don’t blame yourself for that.” Her expression softened. “Simon, on the other hand, never complains. He must have gotten that from you.”
Her frank words made her impossible not to like. She deserved better than this.
“You said in your letter you’re having to move. Tomorrow, is it?”
Her eyes reflected cynicism. “My ex-husband isn’t worth a plug nickel. Not only does he not pay child support, but he went and sold the very home his children live in. I spoke to the man who bought it. He’s giving me till the end of the month to find somewhere to go.”
Despite the careless toss of her head, Amos detected disillusionment so deep and wide that he reached for his wallet.
Her expression went from curious to indignant as he cracked it open and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
“I don’t want your money!” She backed toward the hallway. “Boys! You’d better be washing up.”
Her middle son’s head popped out of the bathroom. “I’m clean, but Simon’s still dirty.” His eyes focused on the bill in Amos’s hand.
“I’ll get him out.” Emma headed down the hallway. “Go watch the baby, Colton.” She pushed him in Amos’s direction.
Amos put his money away, left Colton by the swing, and followed Emma toward the bedrooms. Simon was his responsibility now. He found Emma on her hands and knees in an impossibly small bedroom, her head near the floor, speaking to Simon, who was under the bed, out of sight.
“Now, I told you this was going to happen, Simon. It’s a good thing, too, trust me. Your papa’s going to take good care of you. You come out of there or else.”
Amos didn’t know what “or else” entailed, but it was bad enough to prompt Simon to wriggle out from his hiding place. He crawled into Emma’s embrace and hid his face against her neck. “Hush, baby. It’s okay.”
Her own voice held an audible waver. A vision of Grace Garrett curled into a ball on the floor of the Chinook formed in Amos’s head. Guilt squeezed his chest.Not again. Not this.
“Listen,” he interjected. “I’m going to write you a check.”
As she whipped her head around to glare at him, he added, “It’s up to you whether you cash it or not, but it’s got my home address written on it. That way, you can find me if you want to visit Simon.” He stepped over to the dresser, took out the blank check he always carried in his wallet, and scribbled out a sum ample enough to see Ellie and her brood through the next few months, at least.
By the time he turned around, Emma had pulled a clean shirt over Simon’s head. She then grabbed a paper bag hidden under the dresser and emptied the content of his drawers into it. At last, she straightened, took the check without looking at it, and stuck it in the pocket of her shorts.
“This is all he’s got.” She handed the paper bag to Amos. “Okay, Simon. Give me a hug and get on out of here.” Her terse tone was meant to camouflage her heartbreak.
Simon wrapped his thin arms around Emma’s hips.
Amos held out his hand. “Come on, Son. Let’s go home.” He spoke in a gentle voice he hadn’t used in over five years.
Simon stared at his hand, then lifted tearstained eyes to his. With bravery that made Amos’s heart swell, he slid his little hand into his father’s.
The feel of his son’s hand in his rendered Amos speechless for a moment. A ferocious tide of love roared through him. He wanted to utter reassuring words, but his throat was clogged with emotion. All he could do was swallow hard and nod at Emma before guiding Simon toward the exit.
Thank You, good and faithful Lord, for giving me my son back.
CHAPTER5
The way to combat sorrow was to celebrate the good things, Faith reasoned as she dressed the long cherrywood table in the formal dining room used exclusively for special occasions. Grace’s safe return to the States was most definitely a good thing, even if her sister had yet to recover from her ordeal. This dinner was an outward symbol of thanks for Grace’s safety. It was also meant to honor the man responsible: Casey Fitzpatrick.
