Linda Ford - The Path To Her Heart

Emma couldn’t let that happen. But how could she prevent it?

Emma considered his offer of marriage, the impossibility of accepting him. And yet…To think of being Boothe’s wife. A chance to be loved and cherished…But his proposal had nothing to do with love. He only wanted a mother for Jessie.

“I fear I’m going to lose my son.” Boothe’s words were dark with despair. “I’m begging you, Emma, marry me. Help me keep my son.”

“I can’t. I wish I could.”

“Unless…perhaps we can pretend to be engaged until after the court date. If the judge thinks I’m to marry, he might rule in my favor. Then we can go our separate ways.”

Emma stared at him in shock. “A pretend engagement?”

“Sure. You think we could pretend to be in love for a few weeks?”

If only he guessed how easy it would be for her….

shares her life with her rancher husband, a grown son, a live-in client she provides care for, and a yappy parrot. She and her husband raised a family of fourteen children, ten adopted, providing her with plenty of opportunity to experience God’s love and faithfulness. They had their share of adventures as well. Taking twelve kids in a motorhome on a three thousand mile road trip would be high on the list. They live in Alberta, Canada, close enough to the Rockies to admire them every day. She enjoys writing stories that reveal God’s wondrous love through the lives of her characters.

Linda enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her at linda@lindaford.org or check out her Web site at www.lindaford.org, where you can also catch her blog, which often carries glimpses of both her writing activities and family life.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.

—Hebrews 13:8

To my friend, Alma, who has always been such a

faithful encourager in my faith walk.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

Favor, South Dakota

1934

They represented all she wanted.

They were everything she could never have.

The pair caught twenty-four-year-old Emma Spencer’s attention as she made her way home. The way the tall man bent to the sweet little boy at his side, the tenderness in his gesture as he adjusted the child’s hat and straightened his tweed coat brought a sting of unexpected tears to her eyes.

The child said something, and the man squatted to eye level, took the boy’s chin between long fingers and smiled as he answered. Even from where she stood, Emma could see strong and assuring depths in his dark eyes. Then he straightened, his expression determined, and stared across the street.

Emma ducked, afraid he’d notice her interest and think her unduly curious. But she couldn’t resist a guarded look at the pair.

The boy took the man’s hand. The man picked up a battered suitcase and they continued on.

Emma’s throat closed so tightly that she struggled to breathe. An ache as wide as the Dakota prairies sucked at her thoughts. Just a few steps away, across the wind-swept, dusty street, stood the embodiment of all she longed for—a strong, caring man and a dear little child. She mentally shook herself. Although it was not to be, she had no reason to begrudge the fact. She loved being a nurse. She loved helping people. Most of all, she had a responsibility to her parents and brother, struggling to survive the drought and Depression on the farm back home. They depended on the money she sent from her wages each month. She thought of her brother, Sid, and drew in a steadying breath to stop a shiver of guilt. She waited for her lungs to ease and let her usually buried dreams subside into wispy clouds she knew would drift across her thoughts from time to time, like the straw-colored autumn leaves skittering past her feet.

The pair turned in at Ada Adams’s boardinghouse and stopped at the front door, side-by-side, tall and straight as two soldiers. She smiled at the way the boy glanced at the man to see if he imitated the stance correctly.

The door opened. Gray-haired Ada reached out and hugged them each in turn, then drew them inside.

Emma gasped and halted her journey toward the boardinghouse. This must be the nephew—a widower—Ada expected. Somehow Emma anticipated an older man with a much older son. Truthfully, Emma had paid little attention when Ada made the announcement of their impending arrival. She’d simply been relieved Ada finally decided to get help running the house. The work was far too much for the older woman, suffering from arthritis. Now Emma wished she’d thought to have asked some questions. How old was the man? How old his son? How long was he staying? What had Ada said happened to his wife? Ada might have answered all her questions but Emma had been dashing out the door and hadn’t stopped to listen to the whole story.

Emma hesitated, calming her too eager desire to follow this pair. She glanced at her sturdy white shoes. Her white uniform revealed the evidence of a hard day at the hospital. The weather had been cool when she left before dawn and she’d worn her woolen cape, but now the sun shone warmly and she carried her cape over her arm.

She needed a few minutes to collect her thoughts and seek a solution to this sudden yearning. Rather than cross to the boardinghouse, she continued along the sidewalk with no destination in mind, simply the need to think in solitude.

She passed yards enclosed by picket fences. Mr. Blake fussed about his flower beds, preparing them to survive a bitter South Dakota winter. She called a greeting and he waved.

Praying silently, she circled the block. Lord, God, You know the road before me. You know I don’t resent my responsibility. In fact, I am grateful as can be for this job and the chance to help my parents. It’s only occasionally I wish for things that might have been. This is one of those times. I thought I had dealt with my disappointment and buried my dreams, but it seems they don’t have the decency to stay dead and buried. Yet I will not fret about it. I know You will give me the strength to do what I must. In Thee do I rejoice. Blessed be Your name.

A smile curved her lips as peace flooded her heart. She knew what she had to do, how she had to face the future, and she would gladly do it.

Her resolve restored, she walked back to the boardinghouse. Only for a second did her feet falter as she remembered Ada’s nephew’s dark eyes and the way he smiled at his small son. A tiny sound of disgust escaped her lips. She wasn’t one to let fanciful notions fill her head. No. She was the kind to do what had to be done. No one and nothing would divert her from her responsibilities. She tipped her thoughts back to her prayer. God would help her. Yet, it might prove prudent to avoid as much contact with the nephew as possible. Certainly they would sit around the same table for meals but apart from that…

She suddenly chuckled. The man might be unbearably rude or snobbish, even if in those few moments as he encouraged his son, he’d touched her heart.

Her smile flattened. Rogue or otherwise, she needn’t worry. He’d probably not even notice her. She was no china doll. Her eyes should have been blue to go with her blond hair. Instead she had dark brown eyes, equally dark lashes and brows. Too often people gave her a strange look as if startled by the contrast. She’d been told many times it gave her a look of determination—a woman more suited for work than romance. Yet…