The Path To Her Heart

Boothe followed the instructions as Emma hovered at his elbow watching him like a hungry eagle waiting for some helpless prey. A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. His experience taught him nurses didn’t care for anyone showing they might know a thing or two. He’d do this right if only to prove he was as capable as she.

The gravy thickened. “Smells good. How am I doing?”

She stepped back and considered him. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He grinned, glad to have succeeded in the face of her doubt. “Cross my heart.”

Aunt Ada laughed. “Maybe you could teach him to mash potatoes, too.”

Emma didn’t seem the least bit annoyed at his success. In fact, if her flashing smile meant anything, she seemed rather pleased about it.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers as something inside him, both exciting and alarming, demanded consideration. His stomach growled and he freed himself from her dark eyes. He was only hungry. Nothing more. “I’m sure I can learn to mash potatoes with the best of them.”

Emma handed him a masher and pointed him toward the big pot. Not only was there pork roast, gravy and potatoes but there was a pot of turnips and a bowl of canned tomatoes. His mouth watered at the prospect of so much to eat. For months he’d been forced to ration every scrap of food he scrounged, glad Jessie was being well fed with Vera and Luke. All this abundance was unbelievable. God’s blessing? A flash of hope and belief crossed his mind before he focused his attention on Emma’s instructions.

“I think everything is ready,” Aunt Ada said a few minutes later. “Jessie, do you want to help me ring the bell for supper?”

Jessie bounced off his chair and followed Ada into the hall. At the bottom of the stairs, she handed him a little brass bell and instructed him to shake it. He laughed at the racket it made. From upstairs came the sound of doors opening.

Emma scooped the potatoes into a bowl and poured the gravy into a large pitcher. “Help me carry in the food.” She nodded toward Boothe.

He grabbed the platter of meat in one hand and the gravy jug in the other and followed her into the dining room where the table was already set. He counted nine chairs. That made six paying guests. Quite a load for Aunt Ada. He intended to ease her load and find a job as well. He’d heard there was always work in the town of Favor, on the edge of the irrigation area.

Aunt Ada took her place at one end of the table and indicated Boothe should sit at the other end, Jessie at his right. “As soon as we’re all here, I’ll make the introductions.”

People filed in, taking what seemed to be appointed places. As soon as each chair had a body behind it, Aunt Ada spoke. “I told you all that my nephew, Boothe, agreed to come and help me run the boardinghouse. The young man beside him is his son, Jessie.”

Jessie pulled himself to rigid attention at being called a man.

Boothe grinned. His heart filled with pride.

One by one, Aunt Ada introduced the others starting on her right. “Loretta, one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

The older, thin woman smiled at Aunt Ada before she turned to Boothe. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

Beside her stood a woman, probably in her forties, Sarah, who had a dress shop downtown. Next, Betty, a chambermaid at the new hotel, a girl fresh off the farm if Boothe didn’t miss his guess. He turned to those on the other side of the table. Beside Jessie stood Don, a man in his late twenties or early thirties, and next to him, Ed, an eager-faced young man who could barely tear his gaze away from Betty long enough to greet Boothe. Both men worked at the brick factory.

And then Emma. She grinned at him. “Boothe made the gravy, so if you have any complaints, direct them to him, not me.”

Don chuckled. “Emma’s teasing you already. Best be careful. She can have you running in circles.”

Boothe kept his expression bland. “I don’t run in circles.” Maybe not literally but she’d already proved her ability to send his thoughts down useless rabbit trails.

Aunt Ada cleared her throat. “Shall we pray?”

They all bowed as she offered up thanks for the food and for Boothe and Jessie’s arrival. Her gratitude soothed away Boothe’s tension.

Only then did they sit down.

The meal proved excellent, the conversation interesting. Ed and Don told him of the work in the factory.

“You could probably get a job there,” Don said.

“I’ll look into it.” Boothe planned to check out a few other prospects first.

He expected the boarders would disperse as soon as they finished. Instead, everyone grabbed a handful of things and headed for the kitchen. The women began to wash and dry dishes while Ed and Don shook the tablecloth and arranged the chairs. Boothe tried to keep up but it seemed each knew what he or she was expected to do.

“Aunt Ada certainly has you organized.”

“Not Ada,” Don said. “She was reluctant to accept help. But when Emma saw how much pain she had, she got us all doing our share.”

Emma. Boothe tried to think if it surprised him. She seemed the sort who liked to organize things. Or—his jaw tightened—did she like to be in control? Was it an innate part of being a nurse? Always in control. Always right.

As soon as the dishes were done, the guests moved into the front room. Emma carried in a large tray with a teapot under a knit cozy and cups for everyone. Aunt Ada brought in a plate of cookies. Again, everyone seemed to know what to do. They prepared tea to their liking, served themselves cookies and settled into one of the many chairs. Aunt Ada and Loretta sank into the burgundy couch.

“Do you mind if I give Jessie tea?” Emma asked. She held a cup almost full of milk.

“Can I, Daddy? Please.”

Boothe nodded. He sat on one of the upright wooden chairs and edged another close for Jessie.

Emma sat beside the table and pulled a book to her lap. “We’ve been reading the biography of a missionary to China. You’re welcome to join us.”

“It will soon be Jessie’s bedtime.”

“We’ll stop when it’s time for him to get ready for bed.”

Boothe didn’t know if he liked the gentle way Emma smiled at his son. He wasn’t about to trust another woman getting close to Jessie. He’d learned his lesson, but Jessie’s eager expression convinced Boothe to agree to let him stay for the reading.

Loretta and Aunt Ada knitted as Emma read. Sarah sewed lace to a dress. Betty sat, her reddened hands idle, her expression rapt as she followed each word. Both Ed and Don leaned back, simply glad to relax. Emma read well, giving the story lots of drama, and Boothe was drawn into the tale.

Soon Emma closed the book. “End of chapter. I’m going to stop there so Jessie can go to bed.”

Boothe jumped up, guilt flooding his thoughts. What kind of father was he to forget his son’s bedtime? “Come along, Jessie.”

Jessie took his hand but stopped before Emma. “Thank you, Miss Emma. It’s a good story. Is it really true?”

“It is. It’s exciting to see how God did such wonderful things for them. Doesn’t it make you feel safe and loved to know God does the same kinds of things for us?”

Jessie nodded vigorously.

A few minutes later, Boothe tucked him into bed.

“How long do we have to stay here?”

Boothe smoothed the covers over the small body. “I already told you. We’re going to live here.”

Jessie’s eyes were dull with sleep yet he had enough energy to flash his angry displeasure. “Auntie Vera said we could live with her.” His words quivered. “I want to live with her and Uncle Luke. I want to go home.”