would be one of the children receiving a gift. Should he see them before it was time? She glanced at the box holding the wooden cars and trains. Someone had covered it with a blanket. “We’re making rag dolls.” She guessed he wouldn’t care about the girls’ gifts.
“Dolls? Ech!”
Emma laughed. “Do you want one?”
Jessie scooted backward. “I’m no girl.”
Emma pretended to give him lots of study. Again, she noticed his fine clothes. From what Aunt Ada said, she gathered Boothe struggled to care for his son. “No work and trying to be both mother and father. It’s been rough,” she’d said. And yet the sweater and trousers looked expensive. Jessie regarded her with a wide-eyed expression. Something about this child appealed to her at a deep level.
She recognized her denied maternal instinct. She’d love a child of her own with the same spunk, the same golden glow, the same—
God, I again give You my desires. I want only to do what is right. I know You have set before me a responsibility, and I will not shirk it or regret it.
She waited a moment for peace and contentment to return.
“I ain’t no girl,” Jessie repeated.
“I’m not a girl,” she corrected. “And I can plainly see you’re a big strong boy.”
He pushed his chest out and lifted his chin.
Behind him the basement door clicked and he spun around. “Daddy, are you done now?”
Boothe stepped into the room, carrying a box. “For now.” He saw Emma at the table and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, Jessie?”
“Me and Miss Emma were talking.”
Emma’s cheeks burned with guilt. She kept her head down, afraid to meet Boothe’s gaze as she waited for Jessie to tell his father about their discussion over hospitals.
“She said I could have a doll.” Jessie’s comment dripped with disgust.
Boothe chuckled, pulling Emma’s gaze from her work. His eyes seemed softer, like the first gentle light of morning. He held her gaze for a heartbeat and then another. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating as something passed between them, something fragile, tenuous, unfamiliar and slightly frightening.
“I told her I’m not a girl.” Jessie’s voice sliced through the moment.
Boothe grinned at his son.
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