Page 51 of Conveniently Wed
“You should’ve married Tim back in Memphis.”
He’d been ready to jump in to their female prattle, but Emma’s words surprised him into silence. He rubbed his chest with one hand, uncomfortable with the sudden burning there. Who was Tim? Fran hadn’t mentioned a beau before.
“Tim didn’t want to marry me,” Fran told Emma.
She kept her eyes on her sister, not wanting to see anything that might cross her husband’s face. He was suspicious enough of her already. Bringing Tim into the mix might make that worse.
And more than that, she didn’t want to see his pity.
Tim hadn’t wanted to marry her; neither had Edgar. Maybe there was something the matter with her.
“He wanted the benefits of being married, but he never intended to marry me. He didn’t love me,” she told Emma, something she’d never voiced before. Maybe Edgar was right and she did have a tendency to coddle her sister. Before this, they hadn’t talked about Tim and the reason he and Fran had parted ways.
Edgar coughed.
She still didn’t look at him. Emma needed her. That’s what she had to focus on.
“What exactly do you think I had left in Tennessee? No home. Mother and father gone. No Daniel. You and I are all that’s left of our family. Do you remember being back home? You were little. You toddled after me everywhere on the farm.”
Tears sprang to her eyes at the poignant memory. It was poignant for more than one reason. Her parents had been alive back then.
Emma’s eyes were wet as well.
“I love you, Emma. We’re family. No matter what difficulties we have to go through, we’ll get through them together. I won’t let that maniac have you.”
Fran’s fervent words seemed to get through to her sister. Emma began sobbing again into her hands, and this time she let Fran embrace her.
Fran met Edgar’s eyes over Emma’s head. He looked slightly panicked, like he didn’t know what to do with two emotional women. With all those brothers, maybe he didn’t.
But she never would have had this moment with Emma if he hadn’t pushed. And maybe Emma would have still bottled up those same feelings and done something else rash without things being cleared up.
Her husband had been right.
Not that she was going to tell him so. She didn’t want the occurrence to go to his head.
Their gazes caught and held, something crackling between them. Maybe the awareness of that kiss.
Suddenly, his forehead wrinkled and he looked down, breaking the connection.
“You mind if I look at that foot now?” he asked gruffly.
Emma broke away with a small sniffle.
“I’m sorry you had to come after me,” she said. “But thank you.”
His head was already bent over Emma’s foot, but Fran thought his upper cheek and ear—all she could see of his face—had turned pink.
“I would’ve done the same for my younger sister, Breanna. You two would probably get along,” he muttered.
He prodded and twisted Emma’s foot, and she gave one wince of pain but nothing more.
“You probably stepped in a hole out there and twisted it. I don’t think it’s sprained.”
“It already feels better,” she said softly.
He nodded, handing her sock and shoe back to Emma.
“Storm’s still going, and the boys’ll be wet and cranky. We didn’t make it as far as I would have liked today, but I think we’re gonna stop here.”
