They arrived for supper early and Emma was self-conscious about everything. From her attire to the dish she’d made, it all seemed wrong the moment the door opened and they stepped through.

Like the last time, it was Patrick’s father, Finn, who welcomed them. Patrick, of course, felt comfortable enough not to hesitate and other than guided her to the kitchen, he didn’t think to walk with her there.

Maureen turned from the stove and motioned her forward. “What have you got there?”

“I made string beans with bacon.” She held the basket with the small pot in it. “I wasn’t sure what else to make.”

Her mother-in-law nodded. “That will be perfect. Bring it over here. We’ll put it on the side of the stove so it stays warm.”

The food smelled heavenly, but Emma felt too nervous to eat. “What can I do to help?” She rubbed her sweaty palms down her skirt.

“How about you set the table? There’s everything over on the counter there.”

Emma proceeded to keep busy. After setting the table, she poured water into glasses. All the while, her mother-in-law asked questions about the cabin and what all she’d done to it.

“I am reluctant to tell you...” Her mother-in-law began stealing a glance to the doorway. “But I miss living there. It was our first home and where Patrick was born. So many wonderful memories.”

Emma nodded. “It's a warm home. I love it.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d misstepped at her mothers-in-law smile disappearing. “I suppose not as much as you.”

“Of course, you love it.” Maureen placed the large spoon in her hand down and turned to her. “I was so unfair to you, Emma. I am truly sorry for it. It was such a shock for Patrick to marry so suddenly.”

“I understand. It’s all right.”

“No. It is not. It wasn’t your fault. He’s told us all about how he’d decided to marry you and didn’t tell you until arriving at the Milligans’ house.”

Unsure of how to proceed, Emma remained silent for a moment. Finally, she met Maureen’s gaze. “I wouldn’t have wanted my child to marry into a family like mine. My...er...father was a horrible man.”

“Well, let’s not talk about that. I am not quite accepting of the fact I took a man’s life. Whether good or bad, it is God’s choice as to who leaves or remains. I took it into mine to decide that day.”

“How about some tea and we discuss your cooking lessons? Patrick tells me you and Mrs. Milligan have become good friends.”

Dinner turned out to be one of the best meals Emma had ever had. When she told this to Patrick, he had to boast. “Mother has won many a cooking contest. You haven’t even tried her pies yet. They win a blue ribbon at every county fair.”

“Don’t brag, Patrick,” Maureen scolded, although her eyes sparkled with happiness. “Emma will expect them to be more than they are.”

Emma wiped her mouth, unable to keep from looking at the pie that was set in the center of the table. “Oh my goodness. I’ll have to learn to make pie.”

The apple pie was delicious. Emma feared she’d barely be able to walk after eating so much.

The men went to check on the horses for the night and she helped her mother-in-law clean up. Maureen turned to her. “I don’t mind giving you lessons. I know you go to Mrs. Milligan, but it is a bit far.”

“Thank you.” Emma blinked at the misting in her eyes. “You are kind.”

“No, Emma. You’re family now. I am doing what I should have done all along. Now, let’s finish up and we can go check on the chickens. They need to be inside the henhouse before nightfall. There’s a fox or something roaming about.”

In an amicable silence, they walked toward the henhouse. Emma was reluctant to allow happiness to fill her. It seemed she was prone to bad situations, so it was hard to let her guard down. For now, Emma preferred to consider that contentment was what she felt. And that whether or not things remained this way, this day would be one to be remembered fondly.

“How is Mrs. Milligan?” her mother-in-law asked. “I haven’t seen her since late summer.”

“Very well. She’s making a beautiful quilt for the Christmas fair.”

Maureen turned to her. “Such a wonderful couple. Has she told you about her daughter?”

“A bit. She actually gave me some of Jane’s dresses to wear that were left there when she married and moved away.”

“Oh yes, Jane, such a pretty girl. No I mean the other one?”

Emma halted. “No. I don’t think she has a second daughter. Not that’s she’s ever mentioned anyway.”

“It’s a sad story. They moved from Bardwell about twenty years ago after their youngest daughter was taken. Someone took their four year old and they never did find her. My heart broke for them when I heard the story.”

Everything went curiously blank. There was nothing but a white fog and her mother-in-law’s voice. Emma couldn’t think or speak.

“Emma, you’ve turned a ghostly shade. Whatever is the matter?”

“No-nothing, I think I ate too much,” Emma replied, attempting to put on a smile. “Is it horrible I want another slice of pie?”

Thankfully, her mother-in-law didn’t pay any more attention to her face and instead they continued to the henhouse.

“Do you know what the little girl’s name was?”

Maureen tapped her chin with her pointer finger. “Hmmm, let me think. Ann. No, no that’s not it. I don’t recall, but it was a short name. Brenda or Beth...goodness, I may as well not say any more.”

“Beth?”

“That may be it. I can’t be positive. Of course, you’ll have to wait until Beatrice tells you all about it before you can ask. Perhaps, she’s not told you for a reason.”

As soon as she could, Emma planned to have Patrick take her to see the Milligans. She had a lot of questions to ask.

* * *

Toward the end of the day, Emma usually became restless and ready for Patrick to come home. Although she had more than enough to do during the day, it seemed that time slowed once it came close to time for him to return.

A part of her resisted addressing how she felt about him. Some things were best not explored. Patrick had not declared any feelings for her as of yet. Although at times during lovemaking, he did whisper things in her ear that made her heart flutter. Whatever was said during that time, she discounted as passion taking over and not what was truly felt.

Not that she had any experience but, from what she gathered through hearing the other women talk when she was in town, it seems husbands would often say sweet things to get their way.

It had been refreshing to go to town and meet the apothecary owner’s wife. The couple was young and very nice. The wife, Annie, was lovely and had invited Emma to sit with her and chat while Patrick went to see about getting the horses shod. It had been an enjoyable time when the seamstress had joined them.

Both women had professed to be in love with their husbands and fondly told her the story of how the men had declared themselves. Apparently, the women had been courted. Her and Patrick’s situation was completely different.

Patrick had made it clear that the only reasons he’d decided to marry her were because he wanted a wife and he desired to settle down.

Besides, if he ever was to declare himself, Emma wasn’t sure she could respond in kind. She sat up in the chair in thought. How exactly did she feel about her husband?

He was handsome, the most handsome man in New Dawn Springs, in her opinion. Emma cocked her head to the side. Patrick treated her well and she did miss him during the day. Restless, she stood and paced. There was the fact she very much enjoyed intimacy with him and he did have a very attractive physique.

The way his hair fell over his brow, which propelled her to want to push it away, was captivating. His eyes...Emma supposed she would never tire of looking into them.

When boots sounded on the porch, she almost jumped out of her skin. Just as Patrick entered, she brushed past him to the kitchen. “I’ll get supper warmed up.”

He followed her into the room and she wanted to tell him to go away. Her mind was awhirl and her stomach did some sort of strange flipping.

“Are you unwell?” Patrick was much too close. It was as if her skin became heated and she could not keep from blowing out air.

Whatever was the matter with her? “I am a bit warm, probably from the stove.”

“Here, let me help.” He turned her to face him. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

Warmth from his hands seeped through her clothes. “I uh...no, I’m not sick. I think it’s just that I was moving about a lot.” She pushed his hands away. “Why don’t you pour some coffee and sit down?”

He looked at her for a long moment before nodding and moving away. Emma let out a breath.

“What did you do today?” Patrick asked over the simple meal of cornbread and chili.

Emma waited for a beat. “The usual. I did spend some time preparing a list of things to get for winter.”

“I’ll go to town in the next day or so. You can come if you wish.”

Although she wasn’t sure when to approach the subject, she had to ask. “When can I go see Mrs. Milligan? Perhaps we can go there for sundries.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. There’s too much to do around here and it’s too far to go there right now.”

Although she understood, it was still disappointing.

Patrick took her hand. “Something has been bothering you. What is it?”

“I am not sure I can talk about it yet. I will. I promise. Once I’m ready.”

His green gaze scanned down her face. “As long as it doesn’t affect us, then I can be patient. But if it’s something that will bring problems, I need to know, Emma.”

“No. Nothing like that.” She pushed up from the table. “Very well, I think you need to know. You’re right. That day...the day my...er...Davis got buried.” She stopped talking, unsure how to phrase what she’d not dared accept yet.

Patrick seemed to know she needed space. “Go on.”

“The woman I thought was my mother told me I was not her daughter. She also said Davis had taken me as a child...that I wasn’t his child either.”

“Do you think it’s true?” Patrick took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?

“I haven’t been able to. I don’t even want to think about it.” With a trembling hand, she pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t know who I am. I may never know.”

“We can go talk to her. Tomorrow...we’ll go and you can ask her questions. Perhaps in her grief, she was lashing out at you.”

The woman hadn’t been grieving. If anything, she was just the same. Cold and aloof. “We can try. I don’t think she will talk to me.”

The next day, Emma did as Patrick told her. She worked on a list of items to buy for the house. Her mother-in-law had offered to teach her to knit, so she was excited to purchase yarn to make a shawl. If she learned quickly enough, Emma hoped to make Christmas gifts for the Milligans.

At midday, she was returning from collecting clothes from the clothesline when she spotted a wagon heading toward her home. A young woman waved and Emma immediately recognized her. It was Amelia Banks, the young woman who’d always been so kind.

Emma placed the basket of clothes on the porch and waited for the wagon to come closer. Amelia’s younger brother pulled the horses to a stop.

“Don’t dally too long,” Amelia instructed him. “Tell Mrs. Burgess that I send my love.”

Amelia rushed to Emma, a small basket hanging from her right arm. “I heard the news and had to come as soon as I could.”

“What news?” Emma asked perplexed. Her brother made a wide turn and headed away.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Amelia said. “He’s going just a bit up the road to the Burgess place to return some items Pa borrowed.”

After picking up her laundry basket, Emma motioned for Amelia to follow. “Come in, I want to know about this news.”

They sat at the table. Emma offered Amelia tea, but she refused, waving at her to sit. “Tell me all about it? You married Patrick Langley?”

“How did you know?” Emma was perplexed.

Amelia laughed. “Your husband told my pa. They met up out there in the field while herding.”

“I didn’t think about anyone knowing.” Emma laughed. “I suppose since I barely know anyone, I don’t have anyone to tell. I'm sorry. I didn’t think to come inform you.”

“It’s fine. Mother and I have a wedding gift for you.” Amelia lifted a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine from the basket. “We made it for you.”

Emma gasped at seeing what was enclosed. The beautifully embroidered tablecloth had colorful flower bouquets in the corners and an intricate larger one in the center.

“I’ve never owned anything so beautiful.” She blinked back tears. “You and your mother barely know me.”

There were so many times she was able to speak to them for short periods while doing small tasks for them. Emma cleaned, ironed or feed the chickens for a few dollars a month.

“We knew you more than enough. You had a pretty hard life, with your pa and all. Sometimes, Mother told Father to ask them to leave so you could live with us.”

It wouldn’t have worked. Carl Davis would have forced her to leave with them. She shrugged. “It’s over now. I do have to come see about Ma...Hazel.”

“She left a few days ago. Told Ma she was going back to Idaho.” Amelia touched Emma’s arm. “I’m sorry, didn’t you know?”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not surprised. She was never kind to me.”

Amelia looked about the room. “I love your home. It’s very nice.”

Emma beamed with pride. Her home was perfect. “Once I put the tablecloth down, it will be even more wonderful.”