Chapter Twenty-Four
What a difference fourteen years makes.
Her whole life, Emma had been the big sister who never shed a tear. The one who couldn’t cry or complain because her baby sister had it ten times worse. Any problems she may have had would always pale in comparison to what Megan had to go through.
So she never allowed herself to cry.
The night Jake left, Megan had happened to stop by, and at the sight of Emma’s tears, she did what Emma used to do whenever she used to catch Megan crying. She grabbed a comforter and threw it over them both like a tent. A force field against the world.
And like she’d remembered doing with Megan so many nights throughout their lives, they just stayed there under the comforter in silence. Stayed there until the tears finally slowed. Stayed there until finally Emma didn’t need the force field to face the world again.
That was a week ago.
Jake was still in town working on the library, but somehow he’d found ways to ensure their paths never crossed. Knowing he was so close and yet still out of reach made her almost need a force field every day and every night.
Her heart was a mess over how much she missed him. How screwed up was that? For her to miss him like this while a part of her, the part stuck in her past, still had all this pain and resentment locked away inside.
So she turned her feelings off. To get through the days and nights.
Really, life felt numb without him anyhow.
“Jake looks just as bad as you do,” announced Megan, joining her in the kitchen.
For the past week, Emma had let her other workers man the front of the bakery while she kept hidden in the back, just trying not to bum out everyone she came in contact with.
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” asked Emma. “Because that just makes me feel a thousand times worse. I don’t want Jake to be unhappy.”
“You just don’t want to be happy with him?”
Youch. Looked like the force field was gone, and Megan was no longer coddling her.
“It’s not that simple.”
“But it could be. You could just want to be happy with Jake, and then go out and be freaking happy.”
Emma sighed. “How do you do that, Meg?” She really wanted to know. “How do you just be? How have you been able to look at Jake nearly every day and not—”
“Hate him?” finished Megan quietly.
Yes. That.
Emma had not told her about the call she’d overheard, or that Jake hadn’t been the one to launch the firework that had burned down their house. Jake had asked her not to, and Emma hadn’t wanted to bring back bad memories for Megan.
So when Megan replied plainly, “I don’t blame Jake for my injuries,” Emma knew that wasn’t because she knew the truth. But rather because Megan was just being Megan.
Back when Megan had been barely eleven, and a woman at the bus stop had offered her sympathy for the “awful thing” that had happened to her, Emma remembered how Megan had said there was no blame to be had because the fire had been an accident.
At the time Emma had thought her sister had just been giving the woman a line. The kind you say when the person you’re talking to wouldn’t understand anything else. But as the years went by, more and more she’d come to the realization that Megan truly believed that there wasn’t anyone to blame for the fire, anyone to hate for the pain she’d suffered.
“Jake didn’t burn my body; the fire did,” Megan continued, as if it was the most obvious line of thinking. “He didn’t pull the trigger of a gun, or get behind the wheel drunk. So to answer your question on how it is that I don’t hate him, the answer is easy. I don’t hate him because I like him.”
Sometimes having a sister this grounded made her feel afloat. As though she wasn’t as evolved or actualized. “Okay, well you like him now. But what about before you got to know him here in Juniper Hills? Didn’t you hate him then?”
“No.” She shrugged. “How could I? I didn’t even know him then. How can I hate someone I don’t know?”
As simple as that.
It was a little maddening. But also humbling and inspiring at the same time.
“Emma, I think you’re asking the wrong person these questions. I know exactly what my feelings are where Jake is concerned. Can you say the same?”
Emma let out a heavy sigh. “I thought you were only going to be the big sister that one day under the force field.”
“Well, clearly I’ve surpassed you in sisterly wisdom, so there’s a good chance this evolutionary change might be permanent,” teased Megan lightly.
Emma looked at her sister with no small amount of pride. “How about we take turns?”
“Deal.” Then after studying Emma for a beat, she asked, “Can today be my turn?”
Was she ready for Megan’s brand of reality today? Not really. “Sure,” she replied anyway, knowing there wouldn’t ever be a good time to face how much she was screwing up her life.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” Emma didn’t even have to think about that one. Didn’t hesitate one bit before she answered. She’d figured out her feelings about Jake a long time ago.
What she didn’t know was whether love was enough to overcome her demons about their past.
“It’s time you find out whether love is enough, darn it,” demanded Megan the next day when she stomped into the bakery.
Emma stared in shock at the roaring lioness before her, who looked and sounded just like her sister but couldn’t possibly be. “Megan?” She almost poked the magnificently worked-up creature to make sure she wasn’t a figment of her wildly creative imagination.
The sister look-alike was not to be deterred. “Look, tomorrow is Jake’s birthday. Did you know that?”
Emma felt the blow land squarely on her solar plexus. She’d known Jake was born in May, but he’d never told her the exact date. Purposely changed the subject when she’d slyly try to get it out of him.
He’d always said he wasn’t a big birthday person, at least when it came to his own. And she knew his mom had a lot to do with that.
“No, I didn’t. Jake said he doesn’t celebrate his birthday. Doesn’t even let his brother and sister make a fuss.”
“From what I can tell, he doesn’t,” agreed Megan. “But he’s been a great friend, and he’s doing an outstanding job on the library. So I’m going to drop off a birthday gift for him tomorrow anyway.”
When Emma stood there mutely, unsure of how to respond, Megan sighed. “Look, I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re still working through stuff and looking for answers. But this is Jake’s birthday we’re talking about here. Are you going to show up for his birthday like you never fail to do for every senior citizen who doesn’t have family visiting them at the local care home anymore? Or are you going to be a stubborn butthead?”
Yes, this was definitely a doppelgänger standing before her. The real Megan would never call her a butthead.
The Megan doppelgänger drilled her with a look. “I’ll be here at eleven sharp tomorrow morning with the car. If you decide you’re not going to be a butthead, be ready and waiting for me tomorrow. Janet can cover the bakery for a few hours.”
And then she was gone.
The Megan doppelgänger was scary.
But also very, very wise.
Frankly, Emma wasn’t sure whether she was going to be a butthead tomorrow or not. All she did know was that right there, right then, she couldn’t stop thinking about a story Jake had once told her.
“Chocolate strawberry shortcake with whipped cream,” he’d answered immediately when she’d asked what his favorite cake was. He’d had this boyishly happy look on his face when he’d said it, too.
For good reason. It was the cake his mom used to make for him every year for his birthday.
“My first year in juvie, I’d hoped and prayed that she’d bring that cake. Because the lucky ones did. The ones who had family who loved and cared and remembered, who would bring a birthday cake for their birthday.” He hadn’t been able to meet her eyes as he told her how much it hurt that she never came either year. “That first year on my birthday, I waited for her all day and all night. I wanted that cake so badly. Because it was my only source of hope.”
If his mom couldn’t bring herself to come to wish him a happy birthday, he figured there really was no repairing things between them.
He’d been right.
Jake told Emma that his mother had never spoken to him since, and he’d likewise never had a birthday cake since.
Emma had nearly bawled her eyes out by the end of the story.
And she nearly cried again today realizing that she hadn’t told him why that story had affected her so badly. Not because she’d been hiding it from him, but because she’d been hiding the truth from herself.
Not even Megan knew that their stepmom had flat out told Emma that she’d never forgive her for her son’s death.
“I trusted you to take care of him that night. Not just a random babysitter, but you, his big sister. And you let us both down. My son’s dead because you didn’t protect him like you said you would. And I’ll never forgive you for that, Emma. Ever.”
Later she’d also told Emma that their marriage failing was also her fault.
Emma at sixteen had been utterly heartbroken after hearing that. Had believed her stepmom. Had blamed herself entirely for it all.
Emma at twenty-nine understood just how cruel and wrong her stepmom had been for saying those things to her. Understood that it wasn’t she who’d let her stepmom down, but the other way around.
“I should’ve told Jake that,” she whispered to the empty bakery. Of course, she’d comforted Jake and told her how awful it was that his mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate his birthday. But she hadn’t told him her story. Hadn’t showed him that they were kindred spirits in that sense.
Now in hindsight, as she began suddenly dicing up strawberries like a freaking Cuisinart—and rinsing her tears off them so they wouldn’t ruin the whipped-cream frosting—she realized that what made them kindred spirits wasn’t their parallel experiences, and what she was feeling at the moment wasn’t sympathy over their shared pain. It wasn’t even anger or disappointment at their mothers. No. Rather, she felt an overwhelming sense of determination.
To show both their moms that they’d both turned out just great, despite not having the maternal support they should’ve had.
To no longer hide things from Jake, from her past, from herself.
And to bake that very cake for him for every single one of his birthdays to come.