Chapter Seventeen
The picture in front of Emily was of Drew smiling beside her from three years ago. It was taken right after their engagement. The frame a gift from friends. It sat right in the middle of Drew’s mantle, and after his death, when she finally had the strength to go to his place to try and pack things up, it was gone.
She shook her head. Nothing was real anymore. Adam was Drew’s cousin. He had his things. What did it all mean and did she really want to find out? The emotions working through her body were more than any she’d faced the day after Drew died. Those had a focus, a place to run and hide. Now she was inches from a man she loved, or thought she’d loved, and he’d kept secrets from her. Their connection was a joke. He’d known all along, and here she thought she’d made some breakthrough when she confessed to him last night.
Her fingers traced the frame, lingering over the date engraved. Lifting it out, she placed it on the table. The only sounds in the cabin, her movements. She couldn’t look at Adam. Not now. Not when she had the urge to beat on his chest and demand to know how he could have held her so tenderly last night knowing it was all a lie.
She fingered the next item in the box. It was a badge with Drew’s picture and name, but it wasn’t for the school they worked at. It was from the DEA.
More questions, more pain. Her eyes refused to meet Adam’s. She knew he watched her every move, her every breath. He wanted—no, needed—her to speak, but she couldn’t. At this moment he didn’t deserve to be let off the hook, not while she was dangling over an abyss that could swallow her whole.
Emily placed the badge beside the frame. The next item was a picture of a grave. A grave she’d never seen. Never visited. But as her mind processed the name, Andrew Conley, and dates on it, she began to shake. Pushing the box from her lap, she jerked up off the sofa.
She shoved the picture in Adam’s face. “What is this? What does this mean?”
“It means what you think it means.”
Emily lurched backward, took two steps, and collapsed to the floor. Hugging herself, she rocked back and forth until Adam stirred. Pushing up and away, she spun around. “Don’t come near me. Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He froze where he was, his hands outstretched in a plea. God, why was this happening to her? Why was he doing this? She’d been happy. She was finally healing, moving forward. Then the happiness was ripped away by fear only to learn all of it was a lie. And now this. This box of pain and questions and… How much more could she take?
She held up the picture again. The death date was seven months ago. Numbness took over and a voice she didn’t recognize asked Adam, “Did Drew die that day in the river?”
“No,” he whispered.
“How did he survive?”
“He swam to the other shore. He was a strong swimmer. Someone was waiting for him.”
She knew that. It was one of the things that never made sense to her. Even without the life vest he could have easily swam downstream out of the rapids. That was why there was no body. She knew all this and yet it hadn’t made sense to her, because that would have meant Drew willingly left her. And why would she believe him capable of that. They were going to get married. They’d made plans for a future.
“Why?”
“Because the case he was working on took a bad turn. His cover was blown, and the dealers were coming for him. They needed to believe he was dead and you weren’t a threat to anything. Drew told me someone watched you for a couple months after, but the dealers believed what the government wanted them to.”
She laughed. It sounded bitter to her and why shouldn’t it? Believed what they wanted. Ha, she’d believed it, too. Her fiancé faked his death to protect her and in doing so pushed her down a path of misery and despair. A path that meant some days she felt like she would be better off dead. She’d mourned a fake death. Held a celebration of life for a man who had still been alive. Planted a tree with a plaque so she would have a place to go and remember.
“How did he die?”
“Emily, do you—”
“How. Did. He. Die. Adam?”
He sighed. “He was killed in a drug bust.”
Emily paced. She walked to the stairs, to the front door, through the kitchen, and even though she believed Adam was telling her the truth, she couldn’t put the pieces into any semblance of order. Nothing made sense. Her prior life built on a lie. The past three years fueled by another lie and now? Now she faced even more.
“What’s your part? How do you fit in? Where did you get this box and why are you here in Fly Creek?”
“I told you, Drew was my cousin.” His shoulders slumped. “We grew up together. Left Colorado at the same time.”
Knowing they were family bit hard into her skin but somehow she knew what still waited to be said would be worse.
“Three days before he died, Drew came to me and asked me to promise him something.”
And there was the worse. God, she didn’t want to ask but it was as if the words, the question, were spoken of their own volition. “What was the promise?”
“He asked me to make sure you were happy. To make sure you were living a full life. That you’d moved past his death.”
And the final thread that held her heart together dissolved. Half in shards over a man she really hadn’t known and half destroyed by a man who sought her out to fulfill a promise.
“That’s all this was. A promise. Your words, your concern, your support all to relieve you of a family obligation.” She walked to the French doors and leaned her forehead against them. The glass was cool, and she couldn’t help but notice the river beyond the deck. She laughed, a crazy, I’m-out-of-my-ever-loving-mind laugh. It was absurd. No one, no one would believe this. Emily turned to face Adam. The man who had brought more grief to her life than any she’d faced the day Drew died. Or rather the day a part of her died. “All I was to you was a promise.”
Adam growled and stepped toward her. “No, Emily. Dammit, the promise is what brought me to Fly Creek. The promise is what had me trying to be your friend, after you reached out to me. The promise had me trying to get you to live and be happy.” His voice softened and reached inside her. “You are what made me start caring for you. No promise, no history, no Drew. You. Just you.” He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair.
Her heart begged her to believe him. She wanted to so badly to recapture those moments of pure peace and happiness being with him brought. When the sun shone on the possibility of smiles and laughter. Now she faced the bitter truth. Even if he was telling the truth, how would she ever know? How could she believe anything again when so much of her life was fabricated out of lies?
“Were you ever planning on staying?” It was the only thing that could have given her even the smallest glimmer of hope in believing in anything that had occurred between them.
Adam stared, his throat working over and over. She had her answer.
“I have to go. You’re relieved of the obligation. I hereby remove myself from your concern.”
She pushed past him and dropped the picture back in the box, placing the badge and frame on top of it. She picked it up and turned and walked right through the front door.
Juggling the box while she unlocked her truck door, she slid it along the bench seat and climbed in. With one final glance at his door, she backed out of Adam Conley’s driveway, knowing she would never be able to return.
…
Adam kicked the front door shut and pounded his fists on the hardwood. If the pain wasn’t so acute, he would laugh at how poorly the whole thing had gone down, but really what else should he have expected. The woman he cared for just walked out the door carrying her dead fiancé’s box of lies, and he couldn’t do anything to stop her. And worse, he knew she wasn’t coming back.
He was to blame. He should have been upfront sooner. He shouldn’t have gotten close to her, pushed her to give life another shot. But as he dug deep inside he couldn’t fathom an ounce of regret about anything he’d shared with Emily White. The pain was welcome because it was a result of the happiness, the breathtaking moments, the triumphs. Even if his life was destined to continue without her by his side, he knew that she would get through this. She would be happy again one day, and she would continue to live life. If nothing else, his presence in her life helped her realize how strong she truly was. He might want to spare her the heartache and pain, but he wouldn’t want to remove one moment of the two of them together.
He walked into his kitchen and poured himself some iced tea. Anger hit him like a freight train. Wasn’t some of this Drew’s fault? Hadn’t he been the one to lie to her? Would she see that part of this pain and hurt stemmed from the man who wasn’t who he said he was?
No. It was unfair to blame a man he loved and admired, but he had to blame someone, and the entirety of it couldn’t land on his shoulders. It wasn’t fair. He’d finally found a small amount of peace here in Fly Creek with Emily and the ending was ugly. It might have been just as ugly if he’d come clean but at least the guilt over him not being the one to tell her wouldn’t be as bad. The urge to do something, to be active about the situation, pulsed through his body. But what could he do?
The door opened and Levi came through.
“I’m sorry, man. I thought…”
“It’s my fault. My fault for not telling her last night when she opened up to me.”
“Did you tell her everything?”
Adam nodded.
“And you let her go?”
Another nod.
“But you’re staying, right?”
Adam looked at his brother. “No. I can’t.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He stalked over to his brother and shoved him in the chest. “You don’t know anything about me. We’ve been apart more than together these past twelve years. I’ve told you I can’t be here.”
“Not even for Emily?”
“Emily won’t have me, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Well, then you’re both idiots. Do you know how many men I saw die who would give one more day with the woman and family they loved? Don’t you think that Drew would have given anything to have more time with her? Tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us, and both of you are letting the past dictate your future.”
Levi walked out, leaving Adam feeling yet another loss in a life that really didn’t have anything left.
…
Emily pulled into her spot behind the gallery. Shock and numbness had been overtaken by pure outrage two minutes in to her drive, and she had to force her grip from the steering wheel. She looked at the seat beside her. The box was tiny in comparison to the massive upheaval it had brought into her life. Part of her wanted to leave it there. Forget the night, the words, and Adam’s heartbreaking face as she walked out on him. Maybe in the morning it would be gone. A nightmare she needed to wake up from.
Or maybe she could run it over. Splinter it into shards similar to the ones piercing her heart.
She reached out and traced the lid, the wood solid and cold beneath her fingers. Yes, it was a nightmare, but she wouldn’t be waking up from it. Not tomorrow or any day. She pounded her fist on the wood over and over until her muscles quivered with exhaustion. Damn Adam and damn Drew.
Her shoulders slumped. Opening her door she slid to the ground and turned to grab the box. It took some maneuvering but she managed to get her back door unlocked and open. Slamming it shut with her boot heel, she slid the chain and threw the bolt and walked up the stairs to her loft, not bothering to turn any lights on. The abundance of windows both in the front of the gallery and the skylights in the roof illuminated everything clearly. If only her emotions could be equally illuminated.
Crossing over to her bed she placed the box on top the blankets and stepped back. Unable to stand still, she removed her boots and circled her bed, first one way then the other, her eyes never leaving the square piece of wood. There was more stuff in there, but she wasn’t ready to open more wounds. To add to the list of questions she’d thought of during the short drive home. How would she get answers? The only person who could provide them was the one person she couldn’t bear to be around. She’d been so close to happy. How could she face him when he represented not only the lost future but a false past?
Damn him.
The full force of her anger hit. She snatched the box off the bed and put it on the floor. Ripping the sheets from the mattress she balled them up and threw them down the steps. Next came the shower curtain and the body pouf, following the path her sheets just took. Moving into the kitchen she threw open cabinets, their bang echoing through the tiny space. Finding the glass and plate those, too, took a tumble but with much more dramatic results. She stood with her hands on her hips. What else had he touched? What else held traces or the possibility of making her remember?
Spying the paintings on the wall she removed them all, trying to shove them under the bed only to come up against some obstacle. Reaching for it, she pulled the basket out with Drew’s portrait. Her fingers clenched the wooden frame, and she threw it on the bed and went to the kitchen in search of a knife.
Damn them both for this.
Finding a steak knife, she went back to the bed and grabbed the portrait. Nothing could remain. Taking a step backward, her heel jammed against something. The pain broke through the haze of destruction. Looking down, she saw the box.
Years of emotions she held at bay fueled the rage and now seeped out as she crumbled to the floor. The knife fell to one side, Drew’s portrait to the other, and the box jammed into her from behind. How had she come to this? How had her life dissolved into two men each full of lies, neither full of love.
Emily had no idea how long she sat on her floor or how many tears she shed or how many times the phone rang. All she knew was there was a moment when everything faded, the intensity, the anger, the betrayal, the hope, the dreams. They all slid away into tiny hiding places and allowed her a moment to breathe. She pushed up off the floor and looked at the box.
The box wasn’t going anywhere, and she couldn’t handle it or anything else right now. She crossed into her kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. Pouring a glass, she went downstairs, careful to avoid the pile of material and broken glass and meandered. She trailed her fingers along the scarred tables. The stacks of blank canvases waiting for the next person to leave their permanent mark on them.
They were similar to people in that way. Everyone you came across in life left something on you. A memory, a scar, a feeling. Your soul was a living canvas of artists who influenced your life for the good and the bad. And sometimes there was someone who was neither good nor bad and a combo of both at the same time. That was where Adam fell. It would be so easy to hate him. To blame him for the hurt and pain and confusion balled up inside her, but others shared in the moment.
The selfish part of her wished he’d kept it a secret. She most likely would have never found out. They could have continued seeing where their relationship took them, and she would have been blissfully unaware. But that would have been unfair to Adam. She’d only known him a short time, but in the clarity of the moment, with everything compartmentalized, she knew he was all that was honorable and good. He possessed morals. He wanted the best for people and wasn’t afraid of a little tough love to get them to be their best. Hell, he’d traveled to a small town, reminiscent of an unhappy past, and put his life on hold to fulfill a promise.
Even if that promise destroyed all that was or had been good in my life.
She believed him when he told her he hadn’t lied, but she still didn’t know how much of his feelings for her were genuine, and how much were a result of the promise. Of the sympathy her past brought forth. Of their shared loss. In the many questions that surfaced during the ride, Emily had realized Adam lost Drew, too.
She stopped at the front door. Miller Street was just awakening on this glorious Sunday morning. The wrought iron lamp posts casting shadows along the brick sidewalks. It was peaceful, inviting. She was a part of it. She’d never realized how fully the town had embraced her, and her business, because of the blinders she wore. She hadn’t let the people in, but the town wrapped its arms around her and protected her anyway. Even when she didn’t know it, or recognized the need for protecting. That time had passed.
She blew on the glass, her warm breath fogging the surface. With her finger she drew a heart and placed a kiss in the center. She’d come to Fly Creek on a whim. Nothing other than a flimsy connection to a lost future anchoring her there. She hadn’t understood then that it would be a new beginning for her. It may have been three years in the making, but she’d taken steps down the path to the new her.
Her shell was long and truly gone, having served its protective purpose the past three years. She may not have love in her life but she did have a life in front of her. If anything, the past few hours had brought to the forefront that she was strong. Strong enough that she was still standing despite having the foundation of her life the past three years, swept away. She was still breathing. Still living.
Turning back toward the steps, she set her glass by the front desk and sat on a stool in front of an easel. On the ride home, she’d grown angry at Adam for waiting so long to tell her. Why hadn’t he come to her when he first hit town or even that first night, when she all but melted against him on the dance floor? But right on the tail of that thought was his hesitance that night. His insistence on being friends. He’d tried even then to protect her. And the truth was, the person she’d been, or thought she’d been, that night, wouldn’t have handled it. She would have slowly crawled inside herself even more and ceased to function.
Maybe Adam recognized it that night or maybe at their next meeting, but he understood her. He’d understood her better than herself in those weeks leading up to this point. She wondered how. How he knew when to push, and when to hold and support. And the answer was because he knew her history. He knew where her worst fears and concerns stemmed from, and he worked with them rather than against them or just dismissing them.
No, he’d been right in waiting up to a point, but last night, when she spilled everything to him, everything he already knew, he should have told her. If he had, maybe the result would have been different. Maybe the betrayal that simmered just along the surface wouldn’t be as deep.
She was a fool. She’d thought in looking at her that first day, Adam had seen, but really he’d just known.
Emily headed back to her bed. She slid the box underneath her bed along with Drew’s portrait. Tomorrow she might be ready or maybe even the next day, but today wasn’t the right time to figure out how her past and present combined into a future.