Emma's Day (A Novella)

By Jill Metcalf

Emma Parker is a widow and a grandmother. She finds a stranger sleeping in her barn one morning, the man having taken shelter from a severe storm the night before.

Ward Hamilton left and bad marriage and sold several successful businesses in the east,in order to make a positive change in his life.

"Life was good when one had the time to be fully conscious of each moment of every day.

Life was rich when one had the time to fully appreciate every nuance of a gracious, caring, and beautiful woman.

Life was sweet when rushes of emotion and pulses of passion were created from a shared, simple glance."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Metcalf
• Release date: Aug 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9780986840258

Jill Metcalf

I live in a small historic town just west of Toronto, Canada. I ejnoy writing, reading and walking my dog(s). I currently have five historic romance books, and one novella, out of print and am bringing them back to life in digital format as the rights are returned to me. The e-world is new, exciting and fun. If you have an opportunity to read my stories, I hope you enjoy!!

Book preview

EMMA'S DAY

by

Jill Metcalf

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First published by Berkley Publishing Group, Diamond Homespun, May 1994

Emma's Day, A Novella

Copyright © 2012 by Jill Metcalf

ISBN: 978-0-9868402-5-8

PUBLISHED BY: Jill Metcalf

on Smashwords

Cover art by Marsha Canham

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Before there was Mother's Day as we know it, there was Emma; a woman who deserved her own day!

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Table of contents

​CHAPTER_1

CHAPTER_2

CHAPTER_3

CHAPTER_4

CHAPTER_5

CHAPTER_6

CHAPTER_7

CHAPTER_8

CHAPTER_9

CHAPTER_10

CHAPTER_11

EMMA'S DAY

chapter 1

Zanesville, Ohio, 1878

Beams of sunlight shone through narrow cracks in the barn's ceiling boards, hitting his face, waking him. If that weren't enough, a cock crowed annoyingly and his horse shuffled through clean straw in the stall beside him. Ward Hamilton groaned and wearily turned his stiff body, stretching his long frame as he moved onto his back. When he managed to open his eyes and look around, he saw a small boy standing just beyond his booted feet at the end of the stall.

Ward waited for the child's reaction.

None came.

The boy continued to stand there with an index finger in his mouth. He just stood and stared.

Boy? Ward croaked.

The child then turned and fled.

Ward closed his eyes briefly before reluctantly getting to his feet. He could use another hour or two of rest, but now that he was discovered, he supposed he'd best move on. The boy's father would probably be out to the barn with shotgun in hand any moment now.

*

Timmy Franklin ran smack into his grandmother's legs as he charged through the open barn door.

Timmy! Emma scolded softly, even as she gripped the boy's shoulders to steady him.

Man, the child said, pointing into the depths of the cavernous barn.

Emma looked into the darkness of her barn, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she searched beyond the beams of light that crisscrossed the blackness. She saw nothing. A man? she questioned. Where, Tim?

The boy simply continued to point.

Emma stepped beyond her grandson and snatched up one of the weathered two-by-fours that were used to prop open the wide double barn doors. So armed, she entered the stillness. Stay back, Tim, she said over her shoulder.

The man was standing, stretching, when she found him in a vacant horse stall.

Emma raised her weapon.

I mean no harm, Ward said quickly. He raised both hands, palms out.

Emma hesitated, knowing she might be acting foolishly by not taking action and hitting the man unconscious. What do you want? she asked.

I'm sorry I startled your boy, he said. I took shelter from the rain last night, that's all. I'm truly sorry if I've frightened you.

His voice was deep, his intonation cultured, but he looked thoroughly disreputable. He was a big man, tall and muscular and fit. His hair appeared black in the meager light, graying slightly at the temples. But it was the black stubble of a heavy beard that gave him an unsavory appearance. However, the look in his eyes was not the hardened one she might have expected from a criminal or a degenerate. No, the look in his eyes was honest…yes, honest.

He appraised her in return. Ward wondered if she would first club him or throw the bucket she held in her other hand instead. The woman was tense, ready to defend herself and her boy that was for certain. Fair-haired and amber-eyed, she was also quite lovely, quite fragile. I thought I could make it to town before the storm hit, he told her conversationally. And then with a slow smile, he explained, but the skies opened up and I took shelter here. It was dark and pretty wet out there so I settled myself my horse here for a few hours, he added by way of apology. When the woman failed to respond, Ward said the only thing he really could say, I'll just saddle up and be on my way. But he didn't move immediately, not wanting to startle her.

Emma stared at him for the space of a long, relieved breath. And then she lowered her weapon and nodded, taking a step back. Fine, she said softly.

A cow bawled and Ward glanced at the animal tethered in a narrow stall across the way. He looked at the bucket in the woman's hand and then raised candid, brown eyes, smiling. Could I milk her for you? he asked. Seems the least I can do in return for shelter for the night.

The wise thing to do, of course, would have been to ask him to leave the property immediately. She and Timmy were alone and, except for her own determination, defenseless. But Emma wasn’t feeling particularly wise. And not particularly vulnerable. He was a stranger and yet she felt she had known him before. She was drawn to him in a curious sort of way. That shouldn't be, but there it was. Yes. All right, she said, extending the bucket toward him.

Name is Hamilton, he said as he walked around her. Ward Hamilton.

Emma Parker, she returned.

He liked her voice. It reminded him of satin.

He walked right up to old bossy.

Talk to her, Emma instructed. Let her know you're there.

Talk to a cow? He frowned and said, Ho, cow. He stepped to the side of the bony hips and the cow turn her head his way, raising her nose in the air as she bawled again in her discomfort.

Emma watched his awkward, cautious movements. He stood beside the animal, looking extremely doubtful as he bent and examined the full milk sacks. Quickly, she moved toward a square supporting beam, snatched up the three-legged milking stool that hung there, and walked to his side. Have you done this before?

Ward straightened to his full height and grinned down at her. No.

She laughed lightly, delighting him.

The why on earth would you volunteer? she asked.

Seemed the thing to do, he explained. And I'd like to give it a try.

Emma shook her head and positioned the stool, motioning that he should sit. "Where are you from?' she asked and there were a hundred other questions behind that one.

New York.

Her head tipped to the side a fraction and she frowned down at him. What on earth are you doing out here?

Starting over, he said quietly, and without missing a beat. What do I do now?

Emma watched him clamp a large yet gentle hand around a swollen teat and ducked her head in an attempt to hide her telltale blush. She dropped down on her heels beside him and her skirts billowed out around her bent knees. Just pull down and squeeze, she said.

He tried it. It worked and he laughed proudly as a stream of warm milk shot into the bucket. Feeling confident, Ward wrapped the fingers of his other hand around another teat; he wasn't as coordinated with his left hand, but he eventually had two streams of mile shooting rhythmically into the bucket.

Emma watched the steady movements of his hands, remaining crouched beside him until she became conscious of his body heat, so close was she. Feeling a stranger had invaded her personal space, she stood and stepped away a pace. Are you hungry? she asked quietly.

Ward's head turned, leaving his cheek very close to the cow's belly, as he smiled at her. I truly am hungry.

His smile was devastating.

Emma nodded, frowning as she turned away. Come up to the house when you've finished, she said in an even tone.

When she walked outside, Timmy was running around the spacious yard, harassing the rooster.

"Come along, Timmy!'' she called as she lengthened her stride and walked to the house in a no-nonsense fashion.

Reluctantly, the boy gave up the chase and followed his grandmother.

The rooster, feeling cocky and triumphant, crowed a scolding at the lad.

Inside the house, Emma removed four pans of baked bread from her oven before heading to the root cellar to fetch yesterdays' crock of milk. Once she had positioned Timmy at the table with a cup of cool milk and a heel of warm, buttered bread, she sliced thick strips of bacon and cracked eight eggs into a bowl. She whipped the things into a froth stopped, suddenly frowning at the contents of the bowl, and with a feminine shrug, cracked two more eggs. He said he was hungry, she muttered.

Timmy, seated on a booster board, beat