Tears rolled down Emma Jane’s cheeks. “Don’t be. I’m a nobody, which will be all too clear once news of my family’s downfall becomes public. Mother thought coming to the picnic would change things, but I fear it’s only made everything worse.”
“How so? What could possibly be so important about a picnic to change your life?”
Emma Jane finally looked up. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You keep saying that, but how do you know I wouldn’t understand when you haven’t given me the opportunity to?” The words that were supposed to comfort Emma Jane grated on Mary’s conscience. How many times had she used that as a justification in her situation with Ben?
Surely Mary’s situation was different.
“You probably already know that my father has lost everything to the gambling hall.” Her words were so strained with the humiliation Mary had been used to with her own father.
“I’m so sorry,” Mary said quietly. “I do understand. Before my father made his strike, he had gambled away our family’s money, as well. We were living on the charity of an aunt whose cruelty was almost too much to bear. But I don’t understand what that has to do with this picnic.”
Mary handed the sniffling girl a handkerchief. “Here. I must insist this time.”
Emma Jane’s nose had puffed up, and it had to be uncomfortable. She clearly knew Mary’s intent and took it, blowing with a force that startled the girls around them. Fortunately, they were all too focused on their own misery to pay more mind.
“My mother is going to be so upset with me. Not only did I fail in getting Jasper to marry me, but now I’ve ruined her hat and dress. She’ll never forgive me.”
Another loud wail erupted from the girl, nearly piercing Mary’s ears. Did Emma Jane really think that her only hope of salvation came from marrying a man who clearly did not know she existed? How could she have assumed that after all this time of not being noticed, that a hat, a dress and some paint would do the trick?
“I’ll help you,” Mary said, putting her arm around the girl. “I know Pastor Lassiter will help your family. As a member of our church, you should know how willing he is to help.”
Emma Jane recoiled. “My father refuses to take charity. Mother says that the only solution is to marry well. You have no idea what I’ve had to endure. I’d hoped—” Another stream of tears interrupted more of Emma Jane’s arguments.
So many thoughts ran through Mary’s head in that moment, but not one of them came together coherently enough for her to speak. Though she understood the pressure Emma Jane faced to care for her family, how could she think that making a spectacle of herself would achieve that end?
Then again, who was Mary to judge? She’d made her own attempted matrimonial mistakes. In that, Emma Jane was the better person. Willing to risk it all, even marrying a man she didn’t...
“Do you even like Jasper?” The question burst out of Mary’s mouth before she could control it.
“Everyone likes Jasper,” Emma Jane said a little too quickly. As if she’d been feeding herself the same story over and over just to convince herself of what she was doing.
Mary took a deep breath and looked at the other girl. “I don’t care what everyone says. How do you feel about him? Does your pulse race when you see him? Do you light up at the thought of being near him?”
True, they were all the sensations she’d felt with Ben, but Mary wasn’t completely ignorant in the ways of men and women. Especially because those were the things she felt when...
No. Mary closed her eyes for a moment to remind herself of what this was about. She was not going to consider her feelings for Will.
Emma Jane sighed. “Honestly, I’m just nervous. Afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing and he will end up not liking me.”
Clearly not true love. Despite everything Mary had gone through, she had to believe that it still existed and that nothing less was proper inducement for marriage. The problem, though, lay in the difficulty of deciphering the difference between the real and the fake. Ben had taught her all about counterfeit emotions.
But real love? She hadn’t seen it with her parents, nor with Aunt Ina. She knew of it through Christ, and she’d recently witnessed the deep abiding love between her brother Joseph and his new bride, Annabelle. Surely others, like Emma Jane, could experience it for themselves.
Before she could share any of these thoughts with the other girl, some horses rode up. Even through the blowing rain, Mary recognized Will.
“Will’s back.” Mary stood, letting the rest of the blanket fall around Emma Jane. “Hopefully, he has news of a rescue.”
“Is Jasper with him?” Emma Jane’s voice was strained, probably half hopeful, half nervous.
Though Mary couldn’t tell, it didn’t hurt to appease the other girl’s fears. “I’m not sure. But let’s get you cleaned up so that when he does see you, he’ll see as pleasing of a creature as we can provide.”
“It’s no use. I’m hideous.” Emma Jane started sobbing again, and Mary almost regretted her words. But the truth was, without all the paint, Emma Jane was prettier.
Mary pulled out another handkerchief, glad for Maddie’s warning that she should take some extra. “You are not hideous. I’ve never liked paint on anyone, and if we clean off your face, and I put a braid in your hair, you’ll be as pretty as anyone in this rain. If Jasper has any sense in him at all, he’ll admire you for doing what you can in this horrible weather.”
Emma Jane continued sniffling, more tears running down her face.
“And you absolutely must stop your crying. It’s doing far
