Emma Blooms At Last by Naomi King Page B

we can get to bed earlier.”
    â€œI like the sound of that, honey-girl,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes. He kissed her then, as though he never wanted to let her go. “It would be nice to break with tradition and stay home, rather than leaving tomorrow morning—and these next several weekends—to collect our gifts. This nest is so cozy . . . I could slip back into our room right this minute . . .”
    Abby returned his kisses until the teapot on the stove let out a shrill whistle. “We’d have Sam and the others pounding on the door if we did.” She filled the teapot and replaced its lid to let the bags steep, thrilled that James’s feelings mirrored her own so closely. “We’ve got quite a lot of redding up to do today. You’d think, after all the weddings I’ve helped with this fall, I’d be used to how much
mess
comes with hosting nearly three hundred guests.”
    â€œWe’ll have a lot of help—and for that, I’m grateful that our families live across the road from each other,” he said as he took two plates from the cabinet. “Are these fried pies on the counter for our breakfast, I hope? If they’re your lemon-pineapple ones, you might not get any.”
    Abby laughed as she opened the oven door. “You’re the man of the house now, so I suppose you can have whatever you choose. But I just happen to have a pan of breakfast casserole here, all warm and full of cheese and bacon and onion and—”
    James inhaled appreciatively. “Maybe I can have a fried pie for dessert, then. And when did you have time to put a casserole together?” he quizzed her. “These past few days you’ve been working in the store and sewing wedding dresses for your mamm and sister and Emma, not to mention making those fried pies for last night’s supper.”
    Abby shrugged. “Haven’t you figured out that the women in your life just
do
these things as part and parcel of every day? Or did you think little angels came in and made the food appear with a flicker of their wings?” she teased.
    â€œI know
you’re
an angel. Does anything else really matter?”
    Her heart stilled as she met his gaze. “Oh, James, you still say the sweetest things,” she whispered.
    â€œYou expect me to stop, now that we’re married? I don’t
think
so.” He glanced toward the window in the front room and sighed. “Looks like your brother and some of the others are already headed over to the greenhouse. Guess we’d better get moving, or they’ll think we’re slackers.”
    While they quickly ate their breakfast, Abby couldn’t stop smiling. As Cedar Creek’s carriage maker and the only son in his family, James was anything but a slacker. And with such a kind, considerate man by her side, she anticipated a marriage that followed the idyllic scenes of her fondest daydreams. They dressed and stepped out into the brisk November morning just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Alongside Sam’s tall white house, the plowed garden was bare now that the last of the pumpkins and winter squash had been picked. The red and golden leaves sparkled with a hint of frost. Down in the hilly pasture, along the cedar-lined creek, her nephew Matt’s sheep were milling about in woolly clusters.
    â€œIsn’t that a picture?” Abby murmured. “I never tire of seeing those mama ewes and their wee ones.”
    James grasped her hand and leaned close to murmur in her ear. “Someday
ewes
going to be a mama with wee ones,” he quipped.
    Abby laughed and kissed his cheek. It was such a wonderful thing, to show her affection for her new husband in public now—but it didn’t go unnoticed. A loud whoop came from Sam’s front porch, where her nieces Gail and Ruthie were stepping outside.
    â€œTwo little lovebirds sitting in a tree,”