Chapter Four

        Emma Jean woke up more rested than she had anticipated and figured she had the pain meds to thank for that. A shower and fresh change of clothes only improved her disposition, though she worked hard to ignore the lingering pain and bruising evident on her face. She had managed to wrap her ribs herself and thanked God for the small mercy of not having to ask for help. She didn’t want to be a trouble to anyone, despite what Tally had insisted the night before. If Emma Jean could blend into the wallpaper, she would.

        Running her fingertips over her phone, she allowed herself to spend an entire minute thinking about the fact that she now had Noah’s number stored there. That minute was all she gave herself, before setting her phone back down on the dresser.

One minute to indulge in the fantasy that Noah’s kindness meant more than it did.

One minute to pretend that the mistake she made almost seven years ago hadn’t tainted her.

One minute to wish that she had lived up to the nickname Noah had bestowed upon her instead of allowing herself to be smothered by darkness.

        The scent of bacon wafting up the stairs tickled her nose and fueled her appetite, so she followed it down to the bustling country kitchen. “Oh. Full house,” she muttered, taking in the crowd of people around the table.

        “Morning. Did you sleep okay?” Tally asked with a welcoming smile.

        Emma Jean managed to keep her voice steady, though her insides were a tumultuous mix of anxiety and uncertainty. “I did, yes.”

        The air in the kitchen was suddenly wired, and Emma Jean kept her gaze on the floor as an awkward silence descended over the room. The sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor had her looking up and then immediately regretting that action as soon as she caught sight of the blond, scruffy-faced giant towering over her.

        She took a step back as he invaded her personal space.

        “Is he dead?” the giant asked, with a surprisingly gentle finger under her chin.

        She swallowed. “N-no.”

        “Carter,” Luke warned softly.

        The giant, who she now supposed was Carter, dropped his hand and grunted. “Should be,” he growled.

        Carter took his seat, and Tally directed Emma Jean to a chair of her own as conversation started back up again. Thankful that nobody else seemed to be interested in making a fuss about her face, Emma Jean surreptitiously observed the interactions of the people around her. She noted the adoring looks that Luke shot Tally’s way and the subtle, but intense glances that Carter granted to Fiona. It took her less than three seconds to identify the burning in her chest as envy and only two more to feel guilty about it.

        She pushed her eggs around on her plate, her stomach churning too wildly for her to dare feeding it.

        “Do you want something else?” Tally asked quietly from her right.

        “No. These are good,” she said, indicating a forkful of eggs that she had no intention of putting in her mouth under her friend’s assessing gaze.

        Tally’s eyes narrowed slightly for a fraction of a second before she smoothed out her expression.

        Emma Jean knew Tally didn’t believe her, but she was grateful she hadn’t called her out on it. She moved her eyes back to her plate but gave up pretending to be interested in her food. She was about to excuse herself when the back door burst open.

        “Hey, sorry I’m late!” Noah called out as he rushed into the room looking flushed and slightly mussed.

His dark brown hair, a little long on top, looked wind-tossed and his cheeks had a rosy hue, presumably from the nippy November wind. In his brown corduroy pants and his brown and cream fisherman’s sweater, he looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of an LL Bean catalog.

“Sit,” he ordered his sister when she stood. “I can help myself.”

Fixing himself a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, he pulled out the one empty chair at the table.

Right next to Emma Jean.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” The smile he gave her brought on a different kind of churning in her stomach.

“Morning, Noah.” She granted him a shy smile and no longer had thoughts of fleeing the table.

        ***

        Once the table was cleared and everyone else was starting their work day, Emma Jean fluttered around the kitchen trying to help Tally clean up. Tally had insisted that Emma Jean make herself comfortable, but the restless feeling under her skin was starting to make her feel like a caged animal. She was finally getting her freedom and didn’t want to wait another second to get on with her life. She needed to do  something, not sit around and be waited on.

        “Emma Jean, do you have a burr under your saddle?”

        She gave Tally a look of startled amusement. “Do I have a burr under my saddle?”
        “That’s what I asked. You’re antsy and irritable. Maybe some fresh air would do you good.”

        Taking the hint, Emma Jean tossed her dish towel on the counter and grabbed her jacket from the closet and made her way to the stables. She’d missed the horses. She had never been the horsewoman that her best friend was, but having grown up with Tally, she’d spent a lot of time at Hawkins Stables. They used to ride together, but Emma Jean’s interest laid primarily in equine health more than riding and showmanship.

        Entering the stables, she offered to help Jonas with his chores, but the old stable hand and longtime friend of the Hawkins family wasn’t having it.

        “You should be resting,” he grumped, though in a fatherly way.

        “I need to stretch my legs, and I need to feel useful. Please give me something to do,” she begged.

        Jonas narrowed his eyes on her, giving her a once over. “Well, I suppose you can give the boys and girls their treats.” He pulled two plastic bags out of the pockets of his overalls and handed them over. One bag held carrots and the other apple slices.

        Emma Jean refrained from rolling her eyes, knowing that Jonas was purposefully giving her the least strenuous of tasks. It didn’t even qualify as a chore, really. “Thank you, Jonas.”

She made her way down to the far end of the stables introducing herself, or in some cases, re-introducing herself. Some of the horses had been here when she and Tally were in high school, and she liked to think they remembered her. She cooed and stroked muzzles as she went, figuring out which horses preferred the carrots and which wanted the apples.

She felt a wave of regret wash over her when she thought about how she gave up going to veterinary school in order to make Cody happy and wondered if it was too late to re-apply. If she started over, she’d be thirty by the time she graduated. Older than that even, because she’d have to get a job first to help offset whatever cost student loans didn’t cover, assuming she was approved for student loans, to begin with. The what-ifs and maybes were daunting, but she was determined to make her life her own, and becoming a vet was still at the top of her bucket list.

She gave the last carrot stick to Heidi, a gentle, soft brown mare, and wished her body wasn’t so sore that she couldn’t enjoy a ride around the property. Instead, she left the stables and wandered toward the barn, waving to Fiona along the way. Just outside the barn doors sat two cats, one a black and white tuxedo, and the other a gray tabby. “I don’t suppose you guys have names,” she spoke softly, crouching down to give each of them scratches behind their ears.

“They don’t.”

“Oh!” Emma Jean jumped up, spinning around with a hand to her chest.

“Sorry,” Carter muttered, chagrined. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She took a steadying breath. “It’s okay. I’ve got to get used to people again, I guess. I mean, not that I was locked away or anything, but...not everyone’s out to hurt me, right?” she rambled.

“Nobody here would ever hurt you,” Carter said with conviction.

“I know that, logically.” She shrugged. “Old habits die hard, though, ya know?” She tried to smile, but it wobbled, and the tears in her eyes gave away her inner turmoil.

“You should name them.”

“Huh?”

“The cats. You should name them.” He tipped his chin to indicate the cats that now swarmed her, wrapping themselves around her legs.

Somehow, two cats had turned into four.

“Well, they’re not mine to name.”

“Tally wouldn’t care,” he said, moving around her to enter the barn.

He was right. Tally likely wouldn’t care. The cats were more employees than pets. They were well cared for, no doubt, but their primary purpose was to keep the outbuildings free of rodents, so it’s not like they were welcomed into the house or thought of as companions. Maybe she’d ask Tuck to help her name them.