“Don’t. I was wrong to bring it up,” he said curtly. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m sorry. Go back to your Bible, and I’ll...” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll do whatever I have to do. And we’ll try not to infringe on each other’s space too much.”
Emma Jane didn’t bother trying to respond. Jasper was right. It was the wrong conversation for them to be having, especially now in light of their current predicament. She sighed. Besides, talking about it only emphasized the fact that neither of them loved each other. Clearly, Jasper wasn’t even attracted to her, given his penchant for kissing the other girls in town, and the fact that he hadn’t even tried once with Emma Jane.
Oh, if only she hadn’t had that silly dream of him kissing her in the mine. If only the feel of his lips against hers wasn’t so deeply embedded in her memory.
But that wasn’t love. Desire, maybe. Curiosity, certainly. But love? Love was an emotion she dared not even wish for, especially when it came to Jasper Jackson.
Daisy made a heaving sound, like she was struggling to breathe.
Her face was the color of day-old ashes, and as much as Emma Jane hated to admit it, there was little she could do for the other woman. She’d only seen one other person die, the Widow Sanders, who Emma Jane had briefly taken care of so her family could have extra money during one of her father’s bad spells. Eugene Sanders had been a family friend, and he’d offered her father a goodly sum if only Emma Jane would sit with his elderly mother and make her last days peaceful.
Daisy had the look of Widow Sanders about her. So close to being claimed by death, yet desperately trying to cling to life. Fighting, not so much because she had it in her to live, but because she had so much unfinished business on earth.
Widow Sanders had been hanging on to the hope that her estranged daughter would come home. It was not until Emma Jane herself had whispered, “I love you. I forgive you,” that she’d finally slipped into the beyond. Her words hadn’t been a lie—she’d relied on the grace and peace of Christ to give a dying woman the comfort she’d needed. The daughter only came for the reading of the will, to take her thousand-dollar inheritance, then leave.
What comfort could Emma Jane give Daisy in these last hours? She’d been worshipping silently, but now, when she opened her Bible, she began to read aloud. Widow Sanders had taken great comfort in Emma Jane’s Bible reading. During her brief awakenings, she’d told Emma Jane as such. She’d even confessed to Emma Jane her worries about God not wanting her after all she’d done in her life. But when Emma Jane spoke to her of God’s forgiveness and love, Widow Sanders had appeared to take comfort.
Emma Jane read, noticing that the squeak of Jasper’s footsteps against the floor had quieted. Even the baby had finally ceased fussing and had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
She looked up at him, pausing in her recitation.
“Don’t. I find your voice soothing.” Jasper had settled into one of the chairs at the table and was watching her.
Emma Jane felt her face heat. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.” She turned her attention back to her Bible.
“I was giving you a compliment. It’s traditional to say thank-you when someone gives you a compliment.”
His voice had taken on a teasing note, but Emma Jane found it unsettling. She’d seen him jest many a young lady, to be sure. He’d just never really done so with her. Why would he, when everyone knew that teasing was a form of flirting?
“Thank you,” Emma Jane mumbled, not wanting to pursue the subject further.
She began to read again. Daisy’s breathing caught, stopped, then just when Emma Jane thought it had been the other woman’s last, she took another labored breath.
The poor woman was hanging on so tightly.
Lord, please, I’ve seen death before, and I know this woman is close. If it is Your will to save her, then save her. But if she is to pass, tell me what I need to ease her transition into the hereafter.
The baby gave a small whimper. Of course! What mother would willingly leave this earth with such a small child with no one to care for him?
“I’ll care for your baby like he was my own,” whispered Emma Jane, squeezing Daisy’s hand. As she made the promise, she felt the love swell up in her heart for the baby. Oh, she already loved him, there was no question of that, but this was an additional measure, the kind a mother felt for a child. And, as she recalled, the love Pastor Lassiter spoke of as the kind that came from the Lord. She’d sought this love for her mother-in-law, but as the infant lay in Emma Jane’s arms, she knew the Lord had reserved it for her to give to this innocent child.
Daisy gave one last shuddering breath, then was still. A tear rolled down Emma Jane’s cheek as she realized the other woman was gone.
Emma Jane looked down at the baby. “I still don’t know your name, little one. But it seems to me with no one left to tell me, I’m going to have to give you one myself.”
The baby looked up at her, his dark blue eyes warm and trusting. As the son of a fallen woman, he had no hope, no future. But as the son of Emma Jane Jackson, wife of one of the wealthiest men in Leadville, he would have everything.
She recalled the story of Moses, how his mother had given him up to be raised by the pharaoh’s daughter. Her sacrifice had given him a chance at life.
“Moses,” she said softly, stroking the boy’s hair. “I will call you Moses. Because, like your namesake, you are being
