Chapter Fourteen
The sound of seven Girl Scouts enthusiastically chanting had Emily caught between laughter and the need to search for ear plugs. Her gallery never contained this much noise even when a quartet of senior citizens got into a heated discussion over knitting needles. In fact, she hadn’t had this much emotion and interaction surrounding her since before Drew died.
Just thinking of him didn’t close up her throat as it had just a week or so ago. Had she really turned her corner? Risen above the all-encompassing grief? If her night with Adam was any indication, the answer was yes. The trust she’d extended him, the moments of connection that had nothing to do with touching bodies and everything to do with unspoken words communicated through a look or a sigh or even a moan.
“No, she didn’t,” one girl exclaimed, her eyes the size of saucers.
“I swear. I saw it.” Mel replied.
Emily smiled. These girls shifted conversation links every three words, and every single one of them followed the shift. Her head was dizzy, and she gave up after the transition from favorite color blue to blue jays on the hike to Polly being caught jay walking to walking in high heels to a pop star tripping on stage.
Funny, she couldn’t recall her students ever being that way but then again she’d purposely shied away from memories of her teaching years. They were inextricably linked to Drew, who’d been a gym teacher at the school. But just these brief moments of cacophony brought back to the surface the joy of leading and watching young artists at work. She was seriously considering Shelby’s offer to teach a class or two at the ranch and might even approach the school district about evening or weekend classes.
She glanced at Peyton in time to see her shaking her head, her hand ruffling her daughter’s black curls. Melanie showed no lingering concern from the awkward encounter the other night, broadly smiling at Emily when she bounced through the door, spirit instantly infecting every other girl already there. She currently held court, the other girls contributing but hanging on the young girl’s every word.
Emily whistled and all heads snapped in her direction.
“Evening, ladies. I hear we’re hoping to earn a badge by tonight’s end.”
Heads bobbed. Several girls glanced down at their sashes where their other accomplishments were proudly on display.
“If you have fun, listen carefully, and let your imagination infuse your work, I promise each of you will walk out of here with an original piece of artwork and a new patch to add to your collection.”
Claps and hoots circled around, and Emily gave her first instruction. The girls instantly warmed up to her and Emily was thankful. Her teaching background helped to focus them when they got off track, but they instinctively trusted her to lead them. The joy of that gift spread through her, lifting her heart and her step.
She’d convinced Peyton to participate, using Peyton’s own party idea as ammunition for her agreement. Her natural flair, which her daughter clearly inherited, shone through in her painting. Her colors were slightly deeper than the girls’, who leaned more toward pastel hues despite the silver and gold palette on the sample. Even Peyton’s strokes were stronger and more contrasted. Emily gave a broad suggestion for each step but encouraged them to work with whatever they pictured in their minds. Everyone’s eyes viewed colors differently, so blue to one girl might border on green to another.
Peyton and Emily were cleaning up a slight spill, initiated by one girl’s enthusiastic showing of her tree, when Melanie called to her mom. Peyton rounded her daughter’s canvas and her expression blossomed into maternal pride. Emily’s throat tightened, tears pinpricked the corners of her eyes, and she turned away abruptly.
What the hell was that? She didn’t cry. Not anymore. But it was as if a layer, a veil, had been ripped away showing her something she’d never thought to look for. Something that was missing. Something that until that instant she hadn’t given a thought to in three years. Something she now wanted more than remembering Drew’s smile. More than extended time with Adam.
Choosing to remain aloof from life…to be a bystander and not an active participant never seemed to have any drawbacks. There were no risks, and because emotions weren’t involved, she never felt she lacked anything. You couldn’t want what you didn’t feel. But that protective layer was gone. Dissolved in a puff of maternal pride. If she was being honest, it had peeked through the other day watching Adam with kids in the ring, but Peyton and Mel ripped it away like a Band-Aid, revealing a fresh wound she had no idea how to heal.
She’d always wanted a family. She and Sofie joked about having babies at the same time so their children would grow up as close as they were. They would live in the same community, take their kids to dance or baseball. But that dream, that plan, drowned in the river with Drew.
Hadn’t it?
Emily made it through the rest of the class, but her revelation simmered just under the surface. Like a rug burn, every movement, every word, every look was a brush against the sensitive spot. Peyton cornered her at one point to ask if she was okay, and even though Emily waved her concern away, she was startled that someone who didn’t know her well, recognized her struggle.
At the end of class, Emily took a picture with all her students proudly displaying their artwork. She wanted a memento of this breakthrough, both the positive step and the eye-opening one. The girls’ beaming smiles and beautiful canvases helped to soothe Emily’s churning gut. She promised each of them a copy and praised them again for such a wonderful job. She’d just placed her camera back on the shelf when Peyton came to stand beside her.
“Thank you, again. This was a fantastic time and the perfect way for them to earn their badge. You’re very good with children. I think you said you were a teacher before?”
“Yes, elementary school.”
“Lucky for us that you’re putting that experience to use.” She smiled, and Emily returned the gesture. Out of nowhere, Peyton embraced her. “Thank you.”
She gathered the girls to leave, but not before mentioning the paint parties, citing this night as an indicator of Emily’s proposed success. Emily stood rooted to the spot long after everyone had left. Closing her eyes she saw Peyton’s face beaming at her daughter. The image morphed into Emily smiling down on a tow-headed little boy. Pride overwhelmed her as he smiled up at her with crystal blue eyes.
She opened her eyes gasping for breath. Pain and loss merging deep in her gut. She wouldn’t have it. She would never feel that warmth suffuse her. A little hand nestled in hers. Chubby fingers gripping a paintbrush. They were lost to her unless she took the biggest chance of all. Unless she opened her whole self up to a possibility that frightened her to even think it. How could she do that? How could she care again? Love again? Lose again?
Eventually her mind returned to the present, no answers flashing a neon sign in front of her. She turned off the lights, locked the door, and snatched the envelope Peyton left with the check off the front counter. They’d argued about it. Emily didn’t want to accept payment for something she knew gave her far more than she provided the girls, but Peyton insisted and not surprisingly won. Opening it, she removed the check, intending on stamping it for deposit, when a piece of paper floated to the floor. Bending down, she picked it up, not quite shocked by what it said.
If you ever need/want to talk. 555-0189
Butterflies tickled her stomach, the good, anticipatory kind. She slid the paper in her back pocket, took care of the check, and then climbed the steps to her loft. It seemed crazy, especially since so many other scents constantly invaded her space, but she swore she could smell Adam’s aftershave. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the steaming shower. Instantly, memories of her and Adam flashed before her, and she let the sensations combine with the heat of the water to both calm and excite her.
What was she doing? How had a simple decision to go to a bar snowballed into life-changing moments? Since Drew’s death, her sole goal was to get through one day at time. She woke up and found a way through the day and then went to sleep only to repeat. It was a routine driven by desperation, and she never had to look forward because she knew how the day would begin and end. Her alone, wrapped in a shell devoid of feeling.
Was that her misstep? That she’d never thought to look beyond the moments at the bar. That she’d never anticipated the Pandora’s box of moments and questions and, yes, regrets, that single Friday night at a bar would unleash. And just like Pandora’s box, she couldn’t gather them all back and shut the lid.
The truth was, she no longer wanted to. Her time with Adam, with Peyton at the ranch, even her phone call with Sofie, all brought her step by step out of the protective armor she’d built after that day at the river. She’d been living instead of existing, and the biggest revelation, one that buoyed her more than any steps she’d taken so far, was that in living it didn’t make Drew any more dead. It didn’t tarnish her memory of him. The guilt over her survival that day would always exist, but it no longer was the axis by which her life revolved.
As far as revelations went, finding out you could live a happy, full life took the cake, and when one made a revelation like that you wanted to share that with those who cared about you. Who you cared about?
But their time was limited. Adam would leave come September, running away from his past again. She didn’t know when she’d put two and two together, but if anyone could recognize someone being led by their past, surely it was her. What if she wanted more time with him? How could she get that? Get Adam to see past whatever had him fleeing without knowing what the cause was.
She turned off the water and toweled dry. Sliding into her bed, she curled up on her side, debating any number of ways to convince Adam to give them a shot. But it all came back to knowing about his past. And maybe the only way to get him to open up was for her to open up first.
…
Adam sat on his front porch listening to the sounds of summer, the bullfrogs at the river, the cicadas with their rhythmic tuning. Taking a drink of his beer, he closed his eyes and let the tension drain away. It was another non-stop grind, as every day on a working ranch was. Trail rides, repairs, even a stint at the kiddy roping class. It was there that he heard about a lake rescue. A family visiting the ranch had overturned, several nearby boaters and a few ranch hands helping get everyone to shore. No one was hurt, thank God, but it was so reminiscent of Drew’s faked death, that all he could do was pray Emily didn’t get wind of it.
Life was changing for her. It was like a warning on the breeze, and he knew things were building up to a climax. He just prayed when the time came, he would know how to handle it and the fallout.
Headlights swept ahead as a truck came down the road and slowed. A second later, Mel’s head popped out of the back window and scanned the area. She spotted him and he waved.
“Hi, Mr. Conley. Guess what I made?”
The young girl said something to her mother and then hopped out of the truck and sprinted across the small lawn, bouncing up the steps two at a time.
She proudly held up a canvas, and Adam took in the painting of a lane of Aspen trees.
“I made it at Miss Emily’s gallery tonight. Isn’t it beautiful? I’m going to hang it above my bed. I made sure the colors worked in my room. Miss Emily said we could use our own judgment even though she called out suggestions. We’re on our way to show Grandma now.”
Peyton stepped up on the porch, leaned against the rail, and smiled. “Emily did a wonderful job with the girls tonight.”
Something in Peyton’s tone had him examining her closer. At best they were co-workers. Talked on occasion about nothing of any consequence. Mel had played in the river behind his cabin a couple of times, but they’d never shared a meaningful conversation. It was clear Peyton was angling to have one now.
She was a striking woman, but one who blatantly held the male species with suspicion. She played her ice queen role in regards to the opposite sex brilliantly. You left each encounter with her never feeling slighted, but knowing a boundary existed and there would be hell to pay if you crossed it. There was a story there, whispers among the men on the ranch about Peyton and Shelby’s son, but Adam didn’t know all the facts and really didn’t care as he wasn’t planning on making Sky Lake and Fly Creek permanent. And truth be told he respected other people’s stories. If she’d wanted it shared, it would be shared.
“Hey, Mel, why don’t you hop back in the truck? I’ll be there in a minute. I need to talk to Mr. Conley.”
Mel was a smart girl and despite curiosity shooting out of her eyes, she heard the direct order in her mother’s suggestion.
“Good night, Mr. Conley.”
“Night, Mel.”
Mel crossed the lawn and scampered into the backseat. The window went up a moment later, and Adam smiled at the young girl’s cheekiness. The silence stretched, and Adam shifted in the rocker. He felt like he’d done something wrong and was waiting on the lecture from the principal. But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out his transgression.
Clearing his throat, he asked “Did you want a beer?”
Somehow the absurd suggestion broke the ice, and Peyton smiled. She leaned against his porch railing and crossed her arms.
“I saw Emily tonight.”
“I gathered, since Mel showed me the painting.” He had no idea what Peyton was getting at. He didn’t doubt the town noticed their interest in one another, but it wasn’t like he and Emily were in each other’s pockets. Or even openly flaunting any type of relationship. Because really what type of relationship could they have?
“She was fine in the beginning, but something happened to upset her.”
“Upset her how?” Adam gripped the side of the chair. Did he need to go to Emily? He’d only had a half a beer so he could get to her quick. Peyton just had to say the word. His violent reaction stunned him, the wood of the chair gouging his already calloused hands. When had her well-being and mental state become so vital to him? She was just a promise. A momentary stop before he moved on to his life and future. They had no future together.
Even if, at night, he searched for a way to make it happen.
“I don’t know. I don’t know her, but…”
“But what?” Adam asked, not trying to hide his impatience with the conversation.
“She’s lost. She’s been lost since she arrived here. Everyone in town knows it. And now you’re involved, and we can see the change, the lessening of the grief, the spontaneous, genuine smiles. Even though we don’t know her, we feel like she’s ours to protect, and I’m worried that you may make it worse.”
He would make it worse when it was all said and done. There was no way around that. He couldn’t lie to her about the details. She deserved honesty from him, and he wanted to give it her. Pain and burning merged in his chest making it hard to breathe. How could he have been so blind to what Drew had truly put on his shoulders? These thoughts flew through his brain in a second and none of them were Peyton’s business.
“You sound like a mom asking the boyfriend what his intentions are.” He took off his hat and ran his hand down the back of his neck. “First Shelby and now you.”
“Shelby, huh? That’s not surprising. Regardless, I am asking your intentions. Think of me as the spokesperson of the town.”
He tried not to take offense and failed. “Hey, I’m a resident of this town, too. Did it occur to you that I may be the one who gets hurt?”
To her credit she didn’t laugh or wave his question away. Maybe because it was uttered in raw honesty. He hadn’t realized the fear existed until the moment he bared it to an almost stranger. Hell, what had he gotten himself in to?
“I think you could survive the hurt. I think it would destroy Emily. I just need your promise that you won’t push her. Won’t hurt her. I know I have no right to ask it of you. I realize how crazy I sound right now, but I know devastation. I know loss and abandonment, and even in my darkest hour I never looked as bleak and helpless as Emily White has over these years. Maybe it’s because I had Mel, because I had to be strong for her, but Emily doesn’t have anyone. I have no claim on her. We’re not friends, at least not yet, but I can’t watch a woman drown in despair if I can have any say in it.”
Torn between outrage and fear, Adam knew Peyton was right. She had no claim on Emily. He did, in a dead man’s promise sort of way, and yet he and she had the same goal. They wanted Emily to be happy. The only hiccup was that while Adam would do everything in his power to make her so, he also possessed the ability to send her even further down the rabbit hole of despair. That was what paralyzed him.
“I don’t want to hurt her. We have the same goal—Emily’s happiness. But I can’t promise she’ll get there, because part of the equation is Emily. She has to want to surface into happiness and stay there as much as we want it for her. We can’t control her in the end. We can help her, guide her, show her all that’s worth shooting for, but the decision has to be hers.”
Peyton sighed. “Damn, I hate a man when he makes sense.”
“Lucky for you it doesn’t happen all that often.”
That earned him a smile. “I better get to Mel before she drives the truck to Shelby herself. Thanks for not telling me how much I overstepped my boundaries.”
“No problem.”
Peyton got in her truck and left. Adam grabbed his beer and went inside, pouring the rest down the drain. Levi clicked off the TV.
“Did you just pour out a beer?”
Adam braced his hands on the sink. He wondered whether he should go to Emily. Peyton said she was upset, but that didn’t mean he should comfort her.
“Bro, did you hear me?”
Emily would wonder why he was there. How he’d known. Why others were involving themselves. It might make matters worse. No, he was right when he told Peyton part of this journey had to be Emily’s decision. She was trying, reaching out, connecting. Now he needed to decide when to tell her his connection with her past.
“Adam, man, what’s up? Did I hear a woman out there? Did you hook up here in Fly Creek?”
He didn’t want to tell Emily. Somehow along the way of fulfilling this promise, he wanted her to be a part of his happiness as well. When he spilled it all, he now believed she could handle it. The strength she’d shown over the past week proved she had more inside her than others believed. What he didn’t know was if she could forgive him. And even if she did find a way, how could the two of them work?
No matter how much he wished it, he couldn’t stay here and be a part of this town—it was too much like what he’d left. Just look at Peyton and her intention speech. The third one he’d received in a little over a week. And he didn’t want to be a rancher. He would never shy away from hard work and hadn’t found falling back into the routine too difficult, but he didn’t crave it. It didn’t settle the restlessness in his soul.
The other alternative was to ask her to leave with him, but he couldn’t do that. Even if he still didn’t know why she’d come here, she’d built something for herself. Restructured her life in a way that was entirely hers. In some small way he was jealous of that.
Sure, there were no shackles here in Fly Creek. His decisions could be his own, but it was only a matter of time before the resentment of the nosiness, the well-meaning residents got under his skin. Before he felt hemmed in on all sides. What else could Fly Creek offer?
All it could offer was Emily and even if she did want him, this lie, once discovered, would create a distrust he didn’t think anything could overcome.
Equal parts disappointment and resignation flowed through his veins, holding him immobile. He would tell her. Tell her about his connection to Drew. And then they would each find their future happiness in a different way. Apart from one another. He would go on his trip with Levi and then find his future. A new job. A home that wasn’t on a ranch.
Only he needed to do it in a way that the truth about Drew wouldn’t send her back into seclusion. Erase all the strides she’d already made. He needed to talk it out, weigh the pros and cons. He turned to look at his brother, who now stood across the small room, hands on hips.
“There is a girl, and I can’t leave until it’s resolved.”
Levi walked over to him. “Resolved how? And if she’s got you this spaced out, are you sure leaving is what you want to do?”
No. It isn’t, at least not without Emily, but… “It’s what I have to do. The girl’s Emily White. Drew’s fiancée.”