OVER THE NEXT few days, Emma was ushered to and from the dressmakers. Normally it was something she enjoyed, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from missing Clayton. By Wednesday, she was thrust deep into a feeling she was unfamiliar with—insecurity.
She wasn’t an idiot--she knew there was a war on and that Clayton’s job was important, but she really thought he’d at least have sent a note or something to let her know he was thinking of her. That is, if he even was thinking of her.
“Em, I’m going out to the barn, would you like to come?” Sophie asked, when they returned home from the dressmakers.
“Sure.”
“Did you hear the latest news? Apparently, Richard has been sober for almost a week. He’s still in jail, but isn’t fighting it anymore,” Sophie said.
“Well I guess that’s good, right?”
“Yes, I think it’s very hopeful.”
Emma frowned up at her. “Why do you care?”
“He’s a good man when he’s sober.” Sophie sighed. “I care enough about him to want him to be healthy.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re weird.”
She followed Sophie into the barn and Sophie called for Samson. He whinnied and stuck his head out the stall door. Sitting on the hay bales outside the stall, Emma laid her crutches down and smiled up at her sister.
“I’m going to take him out in the yard for a bit. Are you going to come?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, I just need a minute.”
“Okay.” Sophie opened the stall and Samson followed her outside.
“Emma?”
Emma jumped from her seat when she heard Clayton’s whisper echo in the dark. Her ankle twinged at the sudden movement, and she quickly fell back onto the hay. “Ouch.”
He rushed toward her. “Are you still in pain?”
She shook her head. “Not as much, but jumping on it probably isn’t the best way to help it heal.” Clayton sat next to her and Emma raised an eyebrow. “Where have you been?”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here.”
Emma scowled. “We’re going with that?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s been a difficult few days.”
She pulled a piece of straw out of the hay bale and twirled it between her fingertips. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not certain that I can.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
A few strained moments passed.
“Any word on Topper?” she asked.
Clayton shook his head. “None. That’s part of where I’ve been.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled gently. “I’ve been scouring the countryside.”
“Oh.”
Clayton lifted her hand to his lips. “What’s amiss?”
Emma shrugged. “Nothing, why?”
“You’re unusually quiet.”
Emma pursed her lips. “Unusually quiet?”
Clayton smiled and kissed her palm.
“I’m fine.” She pulled her hand from his, picked up her crutches, and rose to her feet. “I should get back to the house, though.”
Clayton stood as well, confusion written on his face. “I’ll walk with you.”
Emma held her hand up and smiled. “No, I’m happy to walk back by myself. I’m sure you have more important things to do. I’ll see you later.”
Her stomach ached as she strode away. She wished she could run, but her pride—and her ankle—wouldn’t let her.
“Emma!” She turned to see him jog toward her. “Stop.”
She did. If she didn’t, he’d ask even more questions she was unprepared to answer.
“Tell me what I’ve done.”
Emma widened her eyes in surprise. “Why would you think you’ve done anything?”
He cupped her chin. “Perhaps because you’re running away from me.”
“Emma!” Sophie called.
Emma turned to see her sister waving her back to the barn. She pulled her face away from Clayton’s touch and stepped back. “My sister needs me. Excuse me.”
Without waiting for a response, she made her way to Sophie.
Sophie raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up?”
Emma shrugged. “What do you mean?”
Sophie squeezed her arm. “Clayton looks like a little lost puppy right now. I’m assuming you had something to do with that?”
Emma scowled as she whispered, “I haven’t seen the man in three days. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write. Nothing. He wants to be exclusive, but ignores me? I don’t think so. Am I supposed to just jump into his arms now that he’s decided to grace me with his presence?”
“He does have an important job, Em.”
Emma shrugged. “Then he should get back to it, don’t ya think?”
Sophie chuckled. “Oh, Em, you have it bad for this guy.”
“I don’t,” Emma insisted. “I just won’t be treated this way.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ll have to be. He’s leaving.”
She squared her shoulders. “Good.”
Sophie hummed in suspicion, but rather than commenting, linked her arm with Emma’s and they walked back to the house. “Let’s have a bath and then dress for dinner.”
Emma smiled. “I like how you’re thinking.”
Sophie led her upstairs while Betty organized the baths for them. As they arrived at Sophie’s bedroom door, Jamie pulled it open. Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Jamie held a piece of paper up and stepped back to let them inside. “I thought I’d give the note one more try.”
Emma glanced at the note. “Hey, why do you have Navajo code?”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Emma took the letter from him and pointed at the non-deciphered part of the writing. “This line right here. It’s Navajo. It’s written in the style they used during World War II to get messages across.”
“Emma,” he whispered. “How do you know what this is?”
She shrugged. “Did you forget everything from history class? The Navajos were touted as being the reason we took Iwo Jima. Remember Windtalkers?”
“The movie you made us watch?”
Emma snorted. “Oh, please. The amount of times I had to sit and listen,” she glanced at her sister, “or watch something relating to this.” She waved her hands around the room.
Jamie shook his head. “Don’t lump me in with that. You and your sister find something you like, and push yourselves to become experts.”
Sophie giggled. “True story.”
Emma grinned. “Guilty.”
Jamie sighed. “Anyway, I guess I never picked up on Windtalkers being a conspiracy type movie.”
Emma moved around the room, reading and rereading the note. “But the movie was a conspiracy in itself.”
Jamie smirked. “Of course it was.”
Emma pushed her glasses further up her nose and glanced up. “It was accused of being inaccurate and stereotypical, not to mention pushing the Navajo into a background role.”
Jamie crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so can you translate this?”
“I can try. Hannah and I did something like this in History class, but that was a while ago.” She squinted at the page. “And I got a B.”
Jamie dragged his hands down his face. “What did Hannah get?”
“An A, of course,” Emma said distractedly as she scanned the letter.
Jamie leaned against the bed. “Of course.”
Emma dragged her lower lip between her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Something about a building for food. Um, a man with… a stripe… no, a scar. A man with a scar on his face.”
“Building for food. Like a silo?”
Emma shrugged. “Could be.” She pointed to a word. “This could be wheat. I’m not sure, though. I don’t speak or read Navajo.”
Jamie nodded. “You’ve certainly got us further than we were yesterday. You’re amazing, Em.”
“I know.” She grinned. “Why do you have this, anyway?”
Sophie sighed. “Topper left it. The bigger question is how he knows code from eighty years in the future.”
“No doubt.” Emma chewed on her thumbnail. “Do you think he’s safe?”
Jamie frowned. “I’d like to think he is. He’s a smart kid.”
Sophie shrugged. “He’s got a rebellious streak and likes to push Michael’s buttons, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s doing this just to get a rise out of him.”
“What does Clayton think? Will you tell him about the code?”
Jamie shrugged. “I’m going to talk to Andrew in the morning. I might filter the information through him.”
Any further discussions were halted when Betty arrived with staff holding buckets of water.