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“All right, Emma.” He held onto her hand as he eyed the road, then released her as the traffic eased. “Go.”
Seconds later, her Impala gave a hesitant rumble. Ben lowered the hood with a clank and sent her a thumbs-up. Stepping over the guardrail, he watched the traffic over the top of her car before waving her forward.
As she pulled away, she couldn’t resist a final peek back at the handsome bald man.Thank you, Lord.But then she focused on finding a gas station and directions to Amos McLeod’s home.
* * *
Distracted by the sound of a child’s voice outside, Grace and Simon both glanced up from the workbook in which Simon painstakingly traced the letter R.
“That sounds like Colton.” Simon laid down the pencil and jumped to his knees to peer out of the octagonal window next to them.
Grace, doubting it was Colton, heaved a sigh. “Honey, let’s finish your work so we can go see Olivia.”
But Simon had lost his focus. Face pressed to the window, he strained to see up the hill. Grace could hear several voices now, and they seemed to be nearing the pier. She slipped from the eating area and headed toward a window in the living room to better see. Surprise took hold as she spotted a young woman, baby in one arm, hand firmly clasped to one little boy while yet another, older boy trailed her down the pier.
Simon spotted them at the same time. “It’s Auntie Em!”
Grace took a closer look. Auntie Em looked way too young to be an aunt, never mind a mother of three. She wore long, ginger-brown hair in a frazzled braid. And she eyed the water around them like she expected an alligator to leap out of it.
Well, this was unexpected!
Grinning ear to ear, Simon went to throw the door open. Grace trailed him. How was this unexpected visitation going to impact them?
“It’s Simon!” said the first blond boy.
The quartet, baby included, lit up to see him. As Simon hurtled the gangplank and ran toward them with outstretched arms, jealousy nipped at Grace. The boys met each other with grins and shoves, which the young mother tried to subdue, lest they fall into the water. She was smiling at Simon with such fondness that Grace liked her instantly.
Denim-blue eyes rose over the heads of the boys to where Grace stood on the deck of the houseboat, watching the reunion. The young woman sent her a grimace of apology and a nod of acknowledgment. No doubt she assumed Grace was Amos’s wife or girlfriend. The thought alone made her pulse skitter.
Grace nodded back. This visit might just be a solution to her problem. She wouldn’t be abandoning Simon if his aunt and cousins were here for him to play with.
* * *
Amos came home to chaos. One look at the Impala parked under his carport and he’d known exactly who it belonged to. Excellent. He’d been wanting to thank Emma Moulton for a while now. He was relieved, frankly, that she’d sought him out for help, although her timing could be better since he was headed out on an op that weekend.
Making his way to the boat, Amos spotted Simon and his two older cousins up on the sundeck, kicking what sounded like a hockey puck back and forth. Simon saw him first.
“Daddy! Chris’fer and Colton are here!”
“Aye, I can see that. Hello, boys. Don’t break anything.” Amos crossed the gangplank and let himself into his houseboat. He found Grace bouncing the baby on her knees while playing patty cakes. She glanced up at him with an expression of guilty pleasure, even as the vision of her with a baby drew him up short.
“Where’s Emma?”
“I insisted she take a nap in the bunk room. They slept on the side of the highway last night because her car broke down. Some nice man helped her get it started this morning.”
Amos pictured Emma’s circumstances with a pang of self-blame. If he’d had a personal cell phone back then, he would have left her his number.
“Well, I’m glad they’re okay.” Unlatching his webbed belt, he stowed it in the storage space where Simon had once hidden. Snapping the lock shut, he straightened while watching Grace play patty cakes with the baby.
“Pat it and prick it, and mark it withB.” The chubby baby squealed with laughter as she threw his arms wide. “Andthrowit in the oven for baby and me.”
With the sunlight from the window sparking red highlights in her hair, she was beautiful, a veritable Madonna. The yearning to give her a baby of her own swelled in him. But the baby she wanted was already four, and Amos had yet to find a way to place that child back into her arms.
As he bent again to unlace his boots, the door to the bunk room yawned open, and out stepped Emma, her face puffy from sleep, her hair disheveled. She appeared at least five years older than the last time he’d seen her some two weeks earlier. Amos left his boots on and stepped toward her, hand outstretched. “Emma.”
“Hope you’re okay with us just showin’ up.” She spoke with the same syrupy vowels he remembered.
“Of course. I’m delighted that you came.” In her return grip, he felt weariness, chagrin, but also determination.
