Chapter 7

“You’re what?” Tenant boomed, carefully setting his Bible onto the sofa table.

“Pregnant,” Emma repeated timidly, gripping Sam’s hand.

“Pregnant?” Tenant uttered stupidly as if he’d never heard the word before. He turned confused eyes to Louisa. “Pregnant?”

“Yes, dear,” Louisa said sadly. “Three months.”

Dumbfounded, Tenant dropped down heavily beside his wife. He winced at Sam. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Yes sir, I’m—”

Tenant wagged his finger at the young man. “Aren’t you Lucille Nelson’s beau?”

“No sir, I’m not, I—”

“What in the world are you doing in my living room . . .” Tenant trailed off, his eyes bouncing from Emma’s face down to their tightly linked hands. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” he lamented, shaking his head.

“Daddy, we—”

Tenant raised his hand and turned to his wife. “Well, we’ll just have to send her away.”

“Away?” Louisa said.

“We’ll send her up to Atlanta or maybe down to Jacksonville!” The words tumbled from his mouth. “She’ll have the baby and put it up for adoption—”

“Adoption?” Louisa reeled back in horror.

“Yes. And then she’ll go off to Howard University and complete her education.”

“I’m not putting my baby up for adoption!” Emma screeched.

Louisa shot her a hard look. “Now Tenant, there’s no need for all of that. Sam is willing to marry Emma.”

“Marry?” Tenant barked, jerking his thumb violently in Sam’s direction. “Him? Who is he? He’s nobody. Just a carpenter. Certainly not good enough for our Emma!”

Emma started to protest, but Sam quieted her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Stepping toward Tenant, he said, “Sir, I believe Jesus was a carpenter too, was he not?”