Emma Blooms At Last by Naomi King Page B

since
you
got hitched?”
    â€œWay too many,” Emma’s dat murmured.
    â€œNever mind him,” Eunice said as she straightened her glasses. “It’s been sixty-three years. We went ahead with it even though my folks had their doubts. I was barely seventeen, you see,” she added coyly. “Somewhat younger than Emma.”
    Jerome couldn’t miss the hint, nor did Emma’s exasperated sigh escape him. “Well, congratulations! The Lord’s been smiling on you both for a long time, and I wish you many more years together.”
    He ambled toward the long table where Emma was helping the girls unpack their big box. She was handling the colorful fabrics with a wistful smile, obviously wishing she could sew today. “We can leave anytime you’re ready,” he murmured.
    â€œJah. I’ll fetch my coat.”
    A few minutes later they were exchanging good-byes with their families. Then,
at last
, Emma was settled on the seat of his enclosed buggy . . . although she was up against the door, as far asshe could possibly get from him. Jerome clucked to his mules, and as they took off down the county blacktop, he considered ways to loosen her up, to return the smile to her face. It would be a long, tedious day if she wouldn’t look at him or talk to him, but he knew better than to mention her unrequited love for Matt Lambright again. He’d kicked himself for that careless comment several times since the wedding.
    â€œThat’s Sparky and Winona,” he said, nodding toward the mules. “I’m training them for a fellow in Lancaster.”
    Emma’s brows rose. “Pennsylvania?”
    â€œNo, no—north of here, near the Iowa border,” he replied with a chuckle. “I bred my donkeys to his Palominos, which is why they have the tawny coats and blond manes. You don’t see that too often in a mule.”
    â€œAh.”
    Jerome waited, but Emma had no further response.
It wasn’t your best idea, talking about breeding, dummy,
he chided himself.
Why would Emma care about mules, anyway?
    After a few minutes they passed Nissley’s Ridge and the Mast place, leaving Cedar Creek behind. “I thought we’d try the two furniture stores over toward Clearwater, and maybe the antique mall,” Jerome suggested. “But if you’ve got a better idea—or specific gifts Abby might’ve mentioned—I’m all ears.”
    Emma shrugged, watching the passing countryside. “When I told her people were curious about what to get them, Abby said she and James have everything they need. Which comes from Sam’s owning the mercantile, I suppose.”
    It wasn’t a helpful answer, but at least she’d strung together more than two words. Was Emma shy around guys? Or was she afraid of
him
? Even if she’d been sweet on Matt, surely other fellows had taken her out, or given her rides home from Singings when she’d been younger.
    About ten minutes later—an awfully long, quiet ten minutes—Jerome pulled into the parking lot of the first furniture store. Wyman had told him the Yoder brothers who ran the place specialized in bedroom and dining room sets and that they also did custom work. He’d no sooner pulled up to the hitching rail than Emma was opening her door. “Let me help you, Emma.”
    â€œI’m fine,” she insisted as her feet hit the ground. “It’s always me who’s getting Mamm and Dat in and out when we’re on the road, after all.”
    Jerome sighed. He’d envisioned reaching up for her, grasping her hands or, better yet, placing his hands at her waist so he could hold Emma’s gaze for a moment, giving her his best smile. Most girls loved that. As he hurried to tie the mules to the rail and follow her inside the store, Jerome wondered yet again what he could do to bring Emma out of her shell.
    When he stepped inside, the rich scent of lemon oil