Free Chief Cook and Bottle Washer by Rita Hestand Page A

around, much less a child. She
wanted to extend every courtesy. Even though everyone went out of
their way to make her as comfortable as possible, it was obvious
the two of them were a novelty.
    Sammie Jo refused to cooperate with Emma's
plans this morning and immediately tried standing up in the high
chair. A trick she had been developing lately much to Emma's
chagrin. As if she didn't have enough to contend with.
    "Sit down, darling, you'll fall."
    Emma had her hands full with chopping the
sausage as Sammie Jo stretched for the glass jar of crackers that
she had sampled the night before on the counter.
    "Sammie Jo–no!" Emma cried thrusting a
handful of sausage to the skillet and stretching to catch the baby
all at the same time. A feat that was near impossible from where
she stood.
    Emma was in a weird position when the high
chair began to tip and only a firm big hand saved Sammie Jo from
sailing to the floor. Emma didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She
must have looked like a bad juggler as she glanced up in time to
see Deke Travers holding the highchair. A big, warm hand, that
completely covered hers, sent a riot of sensations through
Emma.
    How could she have sensations jolting through
her when she was trying to save her baby?
    She felt the grease on her hands almost melt
from the contact. Embarrassment flooded her and she moved her hand
away. She had to get over this silly reaction to the man. He was
her boss, for heaven's sake, and had no personal interest in her
whatsoever. He probably found her amusing, if anything.
    Flustered that he had seen her incompetence,
Emma grabbed the baby from the high chair and cradled her
protectively against her chest as she removed a carton of eggs from
the refrigerator. Sammie Jo's mouth was wet and managed to get Emma
wet in the process. She glanced down and shrieked. Orange juice all
over her clean white T-shirt. Aiming at composure she was far from
feeling, she put Sammie Jo on the floor.
    "Thank you, Mr. Travers." Silently she
muttered a prayer. She didn't know why her heart raced except that
everything Sammie Jo did seemed to cause havoc, and she didn't know
how to stop or prevent it.
    "Emma we aren't going to get along if you
keep calling me Mr. The name's Deke and I'd appreciate it if you'd
call me that, in the future. Mr. is much too formal. That coffee
smells good enough to eat. Where'd you learn to make it?"
    "My father taught me very early on to make a
good pot of coffee. He said a woman could get by making biscuits
half-way, but the coffee better be good."
    Sammie Jo glanced at Deke then Emma then she
let out a loud wail.
    Emma sighed heavily, her face turning into an
immediate frown. Deke's expression turned to mush the minute the
baby began crying. The same hand that had covered Emma's now
stretched to ruffle Sammie Jo's curls. "This highchair is pretty
worn out, maybe you ought to consider replacing it."
    "Oh yes–I've been meaning to. It's on the
list."
    "List?"
    "Of improvements."
    He still looked confused so she babbled on.
"Oh, there are so many things I need to take care of. Lately I've
been working so much, I simply haven't had the time to see to it.
I'm not a shopper. You must think me a horrible mother," Emma said
turning away from his probing gaze. She found Deke Travers just a
little too disconcerting this early in the morning. His fresh
scrubbed and cleaned-shaven appearance did things to her
equilibrium that she didn't want to think about. And the fact that
he was just now buttoning his shirt had her floundering.
    "Emma would you relax. You aren't on trial
here. As a matter of fact, I think you're a very nice mother. I
couldn't help but overhear you reading to her last night. My mother
used to read to me. I really liked that."
    "I read to her every night." Emma flipped a
sausage. "It seems to help her get to sleep."
    He nodded. "At first, when I realized what
you were doing, I had to peek in. Been a long time since anyone
around here did much reading,