Chapter Eight
The shrill ring drove straight to Emily’s heart. She lurched off the side of the bed and landed with a thump all while sending her hands fumbling across the top of her side table. It was another shiver-inducing ring before her fingers wrapped around the handset and she answered.
“Hello.”
“Em, are you… Oh, crap, time change.”
Emily let her head rest on her knees. “Yeah, two hours.”
“I’m sorry, sis. I just. Well, it’s just I was…”
Emily’s head snapped up, awareness fanning through her body. “What’s wrong, Sof? Tell me.”
“Nothing. I thought maybe something was wrong…with you.”
Emily couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth and a puff of air escaped.
Sofie continued. “I woke up with that stomach cramp. You know the one we used to get about each other when something was off? I needed to know you were okay. I mean, I know you’re not okay. I saw you at my engagement party. I saw how much you’re still not okay, but this feeling seemed different.”
Tears streaked Emily’s face, her fingers flexed several times around the handset and still she couldn’t find words. Sofie’s call, her feeling, the reaching out at the perfect time. How could she handle it all on top of what she already knew had shifted in her life? How could she admit the shell that contained what was left of her these past three years didn’t fit anymore?
Sofie must have taken her silence for anger. “I’m sorry I bothered you. It was stupid to call.”
“No.” The desperateness startled even Emily. She pushed off the floor, fighting a losing battle with sheets determined to send her right back down. “Something is wrong, only I don’t know if I could explain what it is.”
“Oh.”
Emily laughed. That word did seem to sum up an awful lot. “Ever since your party, or maybe even before, things… I did something and things shifted. Life’s not as simple and cut and dry anymore.”
“I’m not sure life’s ever supposed to be simple and cut and dry, Em. Perhaps you made it that way because it wasn’t really life.”
Emily shook her head even though Sofie couldn’t see it. “No. It wasn’t. Isn’t. But I’m trying. I want to try only…”
“You’re scared.”
A sob escaped and she collapsed back on her bed. “So much.”
“I’ll come. Say the word and I’ll be on the next plane to that Godforsaken place.”
Emily tried to picture Sofie in Fly Creek. The sophisticated city girl in her three-inch heels would last about a day before the town would swallow her up and spit her out, complete with boots, a hat, and maybe some fringe for good measure.
“It’s not that bad.” She swallowed and wet her lips. “And thank you for offering. I don’t deserve it. Not after—”
“I’m always here. I always have been. It was a lot to go through.”
“I know.”
“Just know my offer stands. It’s summer break.”
“And when has your summer break ever been free and clear. Besides you have a…a wedding to plan.”
“You’re my sister, Emily. That means more than plans or weddings.”
Tears dropped into her lap. “You’re the best, Sof. I’m trying. I want to be a better sister. Better at life. My trip back east opened my eyes in some ways. And then others here are forcing them the rest of the way.”
“It doesn’t have to be a sprint. You were never very good at those anyway. Long distance is more your style.”
“Ha. Three years seems a pretty good distance to me.”
“There isn’t a time limit on grief. But sadly there is, in a lot of ways, on life.”
Emily let her sister’s words filter through. She was right. She could grieve still, might always in some ways, but she could also live. The two were not an either-or pair.
“Thank you, Sof. Thank you for calling. For reaching out even knowing I might bite your hand.”
“I love you, sis. I’m here. Use the phone more often. And I’m serious; I’ll come to your sky country. Just say the word.”
“I love you, too.”
“Now go live a little.”
Emily put the phone back on the table and noticed the time, 5:47 a.m. on Sunday. She didn’t open until eleven, so what could she do in the little time that might qualify as living? Nothing immediately sprang to mind except an image of a handsome cowboy and his irresistible lips. Still uneasy over the direction her life seemed to be heading, she glanced back at the brick wall and the portrait of Drew. His crooked smile encouraging her. In a breath she was back at the high school where they’d first met. Where the kids had teased them about the art and gym teachers who had fallen in love.
Wiping away a tear, she knew where her first stop of the morning would be.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled onto a patch of field along the Quinn River, Sky Lake Ranch visible in the distance. She had come to this spot twice a year since arriving in Fly Creek. On the anniversary of Drew’s death and on his birthday.
She’d moved to Fly Creek on a whim. Finding the pamphlet for Sky Lake the day after being laid off from her teaching job had seemed like a sign. Drew had talked often about opening up a ranch similar to Shelby’s. Moving back west and starting their family.
Emily had yet to actually bring herself to visit Sky Lake, instead content to view it from afar and pretend it was still part of her future life. The ranch and the water surrounding it seemed contradictory. One representing what she should have had and one representing how it was all ripped away. Maybe a visit to Sky Lake would be another step on this new path she needed to take.
Emily climbed out and leaned against the truck. It seemed strange to call it a river here. The banks were no more than six feet apart. A little baby in comparison to where she’d lost everything. Almost a mile wide of water rushing and tumbling and destroying. The days after were beyond a blur. Family and friends took turns watching her, caring for her, and even then, she felt nothing. People who’d been part of her life, part of her emotional makeup were just faces with names. Nothing tugged at anything internally. It was as if when Drew succumbed to the river’s pull, he’d taken everything that existed inside of her with him.
She eventually surfaced. She had to in many ways. It was what people told her she had to do and what Drew would have wanted, but even though she mimicked the motions of life, her heart, if it really was that anymore, wasn’t in it.
A tear rolled down Emily’s cheek. She thought of Sofie’s call. They’d been so close. Born only eleven months apart, they had always known the other’s thoughts. But after that day, Emily couldn’t be that sister any longer. She couldn’t handle the pity stemming from their connection, and she’d pulled away. Seeing her sister at her engagement party, full of life and laughter and love punched her in the chest, jealousy lingering in its wake. Jealousy over the future Sofie would have and she wouldn’t. Or maybe couldn’t.
She stared at the lightly moving waters, a symbol of the same waters that took everything. Did she have anything to give?
Taking a few steps, she dropped to the ground and hugged her knees. Three years ago, she knew the answer. Hell, a week ago she thought she knew. Was Adam the catalyst or the final straw? Hadn’t she been off balance since returning from back east? Was Sofie’s party what weakened her guard and allowed Adam Conley and his hands and kisses to filter in? Or was this just a time thing?
She always wondered why she’d survived and Drew hadn’t. Why she was left to try and live. Smiling, feeling, laughing were all things he would never do, and it didn’t seem fair that she got to. But the past few days? It seemed okay.
Emily lifted her gaze to Sky Lake and thought of Peyton and the Girl Scouts and what she could give them. She thought of Adam putting in a hard day’s work and the possibility of more time with him. She’d thought of terms last night. They were acceptable to her. Would Adam be okay exploring this thing between them knowing she wasn’t a whole person? That she couldn’t give him all of herself because a part of her died three years ago. And was she okay building memories with a man who might leave come September, as most ranch hands did?
Standing, she brushed her hands down the back of her legs and nodded at the waters.
Emily drove back into town. As she passed the Wagon Train, she saw Adam holding the door open for someone leaving before he ducked inside. She pulled to the side of the road. Sofie had told her to go live a little today, and nothing seemed more alive than being in the presence of a man whose mere voice made her knees weak.
…
Adam scanned the diner and headed for the small open table in the back corner. He’d taken two steps when bird-like claws littered with age spots wrapped around his arm and yanked him to a stop.
“Mr. Conley?”
Adam looked down to find Polly, the owner of the claws, sitting across from her good friend Agnes Young. Two of the foremost gossips of Fly Creek with memories as long as the years they’d lived.
“Morning, ladies. What can I do for you?”
Both women brightened but held their determined looks.
“We just wanted to find out about you and Miss White.”
Adam choked. He should have known. “Me and Emily?”
Polly looked at Agnes and then back at him. “I swear, between her blushes and your throat clearing, it’s no wonder the two of you are in need of others to help you along. Now, we’ve watched that young lady for three years, and to be quite honest we didn’t think there was hope for her. Too much of something in her past that we didn’t think she was going to overcome. But now we have hope. You better not screw it up, because at our age, hope is a hefty fountain of youth, young man.”
Since Adam didn’t trust anything that might spill from his mouth, and disrespecting nosy elders ranked up there with stealing another man’s cattle, he settled for crossed arms and a stern look.
Polly didn’t blink.
God, here he was putting his damn life on hold to help this woman and he was getting hit from all sides because he was trying to do a good deed. At least he now had no doubt the whole town knew of his and Emily’s dance at the bar, and most likely someone noticed his truck outside the gallery yesterday evening. But being accosted by two formidable older ladies who essentially asked him his intentions in regards to Emily had him squirming like a three-year-old who had to pee.
Adam sighed. “Ladies, your concern’s admirable, but Emily and I are just friends.”
“Pshaw. We may be old, but we’re not blind, and we just want you to know we’re watching.” She tugged him closer. “All of us.”
They released him, and Adam made a beeline for the table. He sat with his back to the daunting septuagenarians and scrubbed his hands on the side of his face. What the hell was he supposed to do with this? He knew darn well who “all of us” encompassed. The town was watching. He knew how this story played out. Lived it for eighteen years. The whispers, the stunted discussions when he entered a room. Knowing looks. Well-intentioned conversations like he’d just participated in.
Emily seemed to be their silent darling. They would watch him like a hawk. If he hurt her, which could be a distinct possibility since the knowledge he carried was hurt-inducing of the highest caliber, they might literally tie him to the back of a horse and parade him through all of Fly Creek.
He tugged at his collar. They could send Emily fleeing for cover. Overwhelm her to the point that he would never meet his September deadline and then what? Winter in Fly Creek?
Hell, no.
A young cowboy named Toby came over and took his order, returning with a pot of coffee. Adam stared at the wood paneling in front of him, a brown-haired beauty floating in and out of focus. Maybe he could fulfill his promise without telling Emily all the details. Did it matter when Drew died? Either way, Drew was no longer with them. Details would only bring the hurt back to the surface. She seemed to enjoy being around him. Was there harm in concealing information that didn’t alter the end result?
He took a large sip of coffee and let it burn its way to his belly. Had Drew had any idea what he’d sent Adam to do?
He slumped against the booth. There was no way around it. He had to tell her. It wasn’t fair to keep something like that untold. Especially since so much of Emily’s life—or lack thereof—seemed rooted in that day. And why shouldn’t it be. It was traumatic even if it had been faked.