Emma's Choice
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4
Sarah’s old room was finally closed off, saved for the future, perhaps for visiting family or another child, if God blessed them with one, or just as a guest room no longer waited with ghosts. The children noticed the change immediately, of course. Henry was old enough to understand what it meant when Clara moved into Papa’s room, and though he said nothing directly, he seemed pleased.
Lydia, ever observant, simply nodded as though this was the natural order of things. And June, who’d been calling Clara “Mama” for months now, just beamed and declared, “Mama stays with Papa now, like real mamas and papas.” The innocent words held such weight, such perfect truth. That’s what they were now, a real family built from broken pieces and healed by time and patience and love.
In August, Clara’s family came to visit her parents and two brothers making the journey from Colorado Springs. It was Clara’s first time seeing them since her wedding day, and she was nervous about their reaction to the life she’d built. Would they see her happiness? Or would they only see the arrangement that had brought her here, the sacrifice she’d made for their survival? Thomas Hayes stood on the porch looking over the prosperous ranch with assessing eyes while Catherine gathered Clara into a fierce embrace.
“Let me look at you,” her mother said, holding Clara at arm’s length. “You’re different. Older somehow. But...” She paused, studying her daughter’s face. “You’re happy. I can see it in your eyes.” “I am,” Clara said, surprised to realize how much she meant it. “It wasn’t easy at first, but we made it work. We built something good.” Her father joined them, his expression difficult to read. “The ranch looks prosperous. McCade has a solid operation here.” “He does.
Clara agreed, keeping her voice neutral. Her relationship with her father was still complicated. She’d forgiven him, but forgetting was harder. “I’m sorry,” Thomas said abruptly. “I need you to know that. What I did selling you to solve my own problems, it was the act of a desperate man. But that doesn’t make it right. I’ve regretted it every day since you left.” Clara hadn’t expected an apology.
For a moment she didn’t know what to say. Then, “You did what you thought you had to do. I understand that now.” And it turned out— She glanced back at the house where she could see Elias playing with the children in the yard. “It turned out better than either of us could have hoped.” “You love him,” her mother observed. “The rancher. You’ve fallen in love with him.” “I have,” Claire admitted. “And he loves me. We’re making this work, Mama. We’re making it real.”
The visit went better than Clara had feared. Her brothers were enchanted with the ranch following Elias around and pestering him with questions about cattle and horses. Her parents relaxed as they saw how comfortable Clara was here, how naturally she fit into this life. And when the Hayes family departed three days later, Catherine pulled Clara aside for one final conversation. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “You could have been bitter. You could have made everyone miserable. Instead, you made a home.”
You made a family. That takes strength, Clara. More strength than most people have. I learned it from you, Clara said. You showed me how to survive impossible situations with grace. No, darling. You showed yourself, Catherine kissed her daughter’s forehead. Be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. As Clara watched her family’s wagon disappear down the road, Elias came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. You all right?
Better than all right, Clara said, leaning back against him. I have two families now, the one I was born into and the one I chose, or the one that chose me. Either way, I’m luckier than I deserve. We’re the lucky ones, Elias countered. All of us. The children and me, we were drowning before you came. You saved us, Clara. You saved all of us. That autumn, the ranch thrived.
The cattle were healthy, the harvest was good, and Elias’s careful management meant they had a profitable year. He took Clara to town to buy fabric for new dresses. Not Sarah’s old clothes, but things made specifically for her in colors she chose. He bought books for the children’s education and toys for June. He even commissioned a photographer to take a family portrait.
The day of the photograph, Clara dressed carefully in her new blue dress, the nicest thing she’d ever owned, and pinned her hair up in an elaborate style. The children were scrubbed and dressed in their Sunday best. And Elias wore a suit Clara hadn’t known he owned, looking almost unbearably handsome, with his hair neatly combed and his tie straight. They gathered in front of the house, and the photographer arranged them carefully.
Elias sat in a chair with June on his lap. Henry stood behind his father’s right shoulder looking solemn and important. Lydia stood on the left, her hand on Elias’ shoulder. And Clara stood beside Elias’ chair, her hand resting on his other shoulder, the picture of a prosperous ranching family. “Perfect,” Clara, the photographer declared. “Now everyone hold very still.” As they waited for the exposure, Clara looked at her family because they were her family now, truly and completely.
and felt overwhelming gratitude. This wasn’t the life she’d imagined, but it was good. It was real. It was hers. When the photograph was developed weeks later, Clara had it framed and hung in the parlor. Visitors would see it and comment on what a handsome family the McCades made. And Clara would smile and agree and never tell them the complicated story of how this family came to be.
Some things were private: the pain and fear and gradual healing that had transformed strangers into a unit. In October, Clara realized she’d missed her monthly courses. She waited another month to be sure, but when November came and went without them, she had to accept the truth. She was pregnant, carrying Elias’ child, the final piece that would make her place in this family permanent and undeniable.
She told him on a cold November evening, standing in the kitchen after the children had gone to bed. “Elias, I need to tell you something.” He looked up from the ledger he’d been reviewing, immediately attentive. “What’s wrong? You look pale. Nothing’s wrong. At least I don’t think it’s wrong.” She twisted her hands together. “I’m going to have a baby. In the spring, I think.” The ledger fell from Elias’ hands, forgotten. He stood slowly, his expression unreadable. “You’re certain?”
As certain as I can be without a doctor’s confirmation. Clara held her breath, waiting for his reaction. They’d never discussed children of their own. The three they already had seemed like enough challenge. Elias crossed the space between them in three long strides and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. A baby, he said, his voice rough with emotion. Our baby. You’re happy, Clara asked, muffled against his chest. Happy, Clara, I’m...
He pulled back to look at her, and she saw his eyes were wet. “I’m overwhelmed. Terrified. Grateful. Excited. I’m everything all at once.” He cupped her face in his hands. “When Sarah was expecting I was young and stupid and took it for granted. But now, now I know how precious this is, how miraculous. You’re giving me another chance at this, Clara. Another chance to do it right.” “We’ll do it together,” Clara said. “All of it. The fear and the joy and everything in between.”
The children took to the news with varying degrees of understanding. Henry grasped immediately what it meant and seemed pleased at the prospect of another sibling. Lydia, now chattering almost constantly to make up for her months of silence, had a thousand questions about babies and where they came from and how long they took to grow. And June, three years old and possessive, declared firmly that the baby was hers and no one else could touch it.
As winter settled over the ranch, Clara worked on preparing for the baby’s arrival. She sewed tiny clothes and blankets, converted the smallest bedroom into a nursery, and tried not to think too hard about Sarah’s death in childbirth. But one night, lying awake with Elias’s hand resting protectively on her still-flat stomach, fear got the better of her. “What if something goes wrong?” she whispered into the darkness. “What if I die like Sarah did? What if...?” “Don’t.”
Elias said fiercely, pulling her closer. “Don’t think that way. We’ll get Dr. Marsh from town. We’ll have Ruth Brennan here to help. We’ll do everything right.” “Sarah did everything right,” Clara pointed out. It still took her. That was different. She was exhausted from having three babies in six years. Her body was worn down. “But you’re young and healthy and strong, and I’m going to make sure you have everything you need, rest, good food, no heavy work. I’m not losing you, Clara.” “I can’t.
“The children need you. I need you.” Clara wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that wanting something badly enough could make it true. But she’d learned that life didn’t work that way. Sometimes tragedy struck despite everyone’s best efforts. Sometimes love wasn’t enough to save someone. But she didn’t voice these fears. Instead, she let Elias hold her and tried to focus on hope rather than terror.