Free Farmer Takes a Wife by Debbie Macomber Page A

She clearly considered this meeting significant—enough to drive all the way in from Dickinson, where she lived with her sister. He knew she’d be waiting for him when he returned, too. Emotionally, she seemed to have a lot invested in this; she’d been a widow for years and Dave was her only child, and she definitely felt it was time he got married. In fact, she’d been the onewho’d brought him the
Farmer’s Newsletter
and suggested he place an ad.
    “If you bring her back to the farm …” she said, following him out the door.
    “That would be only fair, don’t you think?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said eagerly. “I’ve got the guest room ready. If she agrees to marry you, then everything’s set.”
    He nodded. A month’s courtship through letters and a few phone calls wasn’t much, but it would have to do. As a precaution, he’d requested references and several letters of recommendation with regard to her background and personality; he’d provided the same. She’d checked his references and he’d checked hers. If they both decided to go through with this once they met, they’d get married the following week. He’d already made arrangements for a quiet ceremony in a chapel near Grand Forks.
    “I’ll head out now,” he said, knowing it was early. He’d have a couple of extra hours when he got to the city, but he didn’t mind. He was sure he could find errands to do, stores to visit. Besides, he was a man who prized punctuality.
    His mother hugged him and stayed on the porch while he pulled the truck around from its usual parking space behind the barn. Waving vigorously, she continued to watch as he drove off. Dave tapped his horn in farewell, then concentrated on the day ahead.
    “Be everything you say you are, Emma Fowler,” he whispered.
    Two hours later, Dave arrived in Grand Forks and made a point of locating the restaurant first. The place he’d chosen served Italian cuisine. He didn’t eat out often enough to vouch for it, but in one of her letters, Emma had said Italian was her favorite, and he wanted her to know hepaid attention to the things she’d written. He’d read and reread her letters dozens of times, until a picture of her had taken shape in his mind—a picture of the kind of person she was. So far, he liked her.
    He’d offered to meet her plane, but Emma had said no. At first that left him feeling a bit unsettled; only later did he realize she didn’t want to be dependent on him if things didn’t work out the way they both appeared to want. She had a reservation for a rental car and directions to the restaurant, where they were supposed to meet at six. Even after completing his errands, Dave had enough time to sit outside for almost an hour, his stomach tight with nerves.
    He finally went and chose a table at the far end of the room so he could see everyone who entered. He’d only been seated five minutes when Emma walked in. She stared directly at him, and he could tell she recognized him instantly.
    Dave got to his feet. The picture she’d sent looked nothing like her and he frowned, even more nervous now. He couldn’t imagine why she’d purposely misled him. The photo she’d mailed had revealed a rather ordinary woman with dishwater hair. Yet the woman who walked toward him was anything but ordinary. The word that tumbled through his mind was
beautiful
. Emma was a beautiful woman.
    “You must be Dave,” she said with a smile that seemed completely effortless.
    “And you’re Emma.” Still in something of a stupor, he walked around the table and held out her chair.
    “How was your flight?” he asked once he was back in his seat.
    She reached for her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Wonderful. Have you been waiting long?”
    “No …” He wanted to say more, to make some additionalsmall talk, but his mouth didn’t seem willing to cooperate. “You’re … you’re not what I expected.”
    She stiffened noticeably. “What do you mean?”
    “The photo