Farmer Takes a Wife (3 page)

E
mma was in a panic as she raced toward the fields. Dave stopped her just before she barreled mindlessly down the nearest row.

“No,” he shouted, catching her by the arm. “You’ll get lost yourself.”

“Jamie!” Emma screamed, her voice trembling with fear. “Jamie … Jamie!”

“I’ll call the neighbors for help,” Dave insisted. “We can’t do this alone. If necessary, we’ll get a rescue unit with a plane.”

“Oh, Dave … Dave.” Shaken, Emma pressed her hands to her lips. “Don’t you
see
,” she cried, wanting him to understand, needing him to feel the same stark terror she did. “It was because of Jamie that I married you, and now … now she could be …” Her daughter, lost somewhere in the endless row of sunflowers. Emma’s voice rose in near-hysteria.
“Jamie!”
she yelled. “Jamie!”

Dave’s head came back as though she’d slapped him. “Get hold of yourself,” he said firmly, gripping her shoulders.

At first she struggled, but it didn’t take long for reason to assert itself. She realized that if they were to find Jamie she’d need a clear head. Splaying her fingers through her hair, she forced herself to calm down and think.

“It’s nap time … Jamie’s tired … she’s probably found a sunny spot to cuddle up.”

“Okay, good,” he said, and briefly squeezed her shoulders. “Then she probably hasn’t wandered far. We’ll find her, Emma, you have my word on that. We’re going to find her. We’ll start a systematic search, but first we should check the house. Just in case …”

Emma followed him and climbed the porch steps, taking them quickly. She would’ve missed seeing Jamie except for the fact that she suddenly moved. Emma gasped. There on the wicker rocking chair, curled up like a kitten, was the three-year-old child, sound asleep and oblivious to the turmoil her disappearance had caused.

“Dave, look,” she called softly. He’d gone into the house, but as he emerged and stood in the doorway, she grabbed his arm and pointed to Jamie.

Emma watched the tension leave his shoulders, saw his face relax in a slow, relieved smile. “Asleep, just like you said.”

Her own sense of relief was so great her knees felt weak. Picking Jamie up, she sat carefully in the rocker and held her daughter against her heart. The trembling didn’t stop right away. But Emma knew that was a natural reaction because she’d come so close to losing what she valued most.

Dave sank down in the rocker beside hers.

Brushing the curls from Jamie’s forehead, she knew she needed to explain herself. “About what I said earlier … marrying you for Jamie’s sake …”

“It’s all right, I understand. I didn’t expect to attract a wife with my dashing good looks.”

“Stop it,” she snapped.

“You married me because Jamie needs a father,” he continued in a measured tone. “That was your reason. It’s no different from me marrying you because I felt I needed a wife, a family. We both knew, going into this marriage, that our reasons had to do with
need
, with what we need in our lives. I’m well aware that you intended no offense, and none was taken.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “need
is
part of this. It brought us to this point, to marriage. But you’re going to be the love of my life, David Stafford,” she said fiercely. “I’m going to love you, dammit. I’m going to love you with the same depth and loyalty that my immigrant ancestors had in
their
marriage. This is a love that will last us all our lives.”

His lack of response shook her. He sat looking out over the ripening fields, then stared down at his callused hands.

“I know we didn’t have a conventional kind of courtship,” she added. “It wasn’t necessary, not for me anyway. You’re everything you claimed to be in that
Farmer’s Newsletter
ad—decent, hardworking, honest—and it’s enough. More than enough.”

He remained still. So still that Emma didn’t know what to think.

“Say something,” she pleaded. Despite what he’d claimed earlier, she sensed that her thoughtless, desperate remark had hurt him and she couldn’t bear that. He’d been so good to her, to them. So understanding and patient.

“I loved you sight unseen,” he said.

Emma couldn’t help it; she disregarded his words. He’d told her himself that she’d been the only woman to respond
to his ad. It wasn’t like he’d
chosen
her from among dozens of eager applicants.

“You don’t believe me,” he said stiffly. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“It isn’t that …”

“Then what?”

“Well, first, you didn’t exactly have a wide range of choices, now did you?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if a thousand women had answered that ad. You’re the one I would have picked.”

“But I came with … Jamie.” She leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s brow.

“You came with an asset. What is it advertisers like to say? Added value. Not only did I find a wife, now I have a family. For years I’ve lived alone, wishing for this very thing,
needing
it, wondering if it was possible for someone like me.”

There was a silence. Then Emma said, “Dave, why do you think I answered the ad?”

“For Jamie. You said so yourself.”

She smiled and reached for his hand, linking her fingers with his. “I answered it for me, too. Yes, Jamie needs a daddy, and I love my daughter to the depths of my soul, but I’m not completely unselfish. I was lonely, just like you were. I wanted a husband, a man in my life. A good man, who would encourage
my
dreams and share
his
dreams with me.”

A smile came to his eyes and she knew the reason. In those early letters, he’d explained what she should expect of life on a farm. He’d told her about his vision for America’s independent farmer and his own place in that future. He’d written about Buffalo Valley and how he hoped the town would survive and even flourish. There’d been no false enthusiasm in his words. No sentimentality. His was
a dream that entailed hard work, careful planning and a willingness to change. He’d told her that he accepted these challenges and was looking for a woman who would accept them, too. A woman who would embrace this life of his. A woman who could value him for who he was.

“I expected my dreams to scare you off,” he said.

“They didn’t. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Married to me.” His wholehearted smile made his handsome in a way that went beyond the merely physical. “Damn, but I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“I feel so blessed myself.”

Dave glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway leading to the house. “Well, Mrs. Stafford, I recall that we were both a bit sleepy earlier.” He raised his arms high above his head and released a loud and completely phony yawn.

Emma chuckled. “It seems I’m rather tired myself. Shall we go to bed, Mr. Stafford?”

“Oh, yes, but be warned—I don’t expect either of us will do much sleeping.”

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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Published in Great Britain 2013
Harlequin MIRA, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR

© Debbie Macomber 2013

eISBN 978-1-472-01254-8