Chapter 22

Later, Emma punched in Ari’s number, needing a strong, hard dose of teacher-style wisdom. The phone didn’t even chirp twice before Ari answered.

“Hey, cowgirl. You calling me from Vegas?”

Emma laughed. “No, Ari. Still safe and sound here in Montana. And I haven’t eloped.”

“Damn. I was hoping one of us was having a good weekend.”

“Uh-oh. You okay?”

Ari sighed. “Yup. Just a bad case of PMS combined with a bad case of strep combined with a bad case of am-I-living-the-life-I-was-meant-to-live.”

“Oh. So nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Not really, no. And I am rolling my eyes right now, in case you couldn’t hear that in my tone.”

“Thank you. Good visual.”

“So? How’s your weekend? Anything happening besides work?”

Emma fingered the fringe of the place mat on her little table, more jittery than she wanted to admit. “Well, you know. Went on a couple of trail rides, moved out to Whisper Creek, slept with Jasper, may learn to cook.”

Ari made a sound on the other end of the line that was half gasp, half choke. Then she squeaked like something had bitten her.

“Holy—what—slow down—what?”

Emma laughed. “Yep. Learning to cook. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, that was definitely the part that most concerned me. What do you mean—I slept with Jasper?”

“Well? I sort of—did. Last night.”

“On purpose?”

“Sort of? Mostly? I think so?” Emma sighed. “I don’t even know, Ari! It was like alter-Emma came out, and omigod, she’s a hussy!”

Ari laughed. “I think I like alter-Emma. So how was it?”

“It was…fine.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah. Fine. You know—fine.”

Emma swallowed, visions from last night flying through her head like a movie marquee on warp speed.

Ari cleared her throat. “So you mean to tell me that you’ve just done the deed for the first time in a decade and it was—quote—fine?”

“Could you say that louder, please? I’m not sure greater Jacksonville heard you.”

“Sorry.” Ari laughed. “Come on, though. How was it, really?”

“Oh, Ari.” Emma sat back, pulling her knees to her chest. “It was mind-altering.”

“Yay!” Ari squeaked. “Really?”

“Really really. If he had pulled me out of bed afterward and offered to elope to Vegas, I might have actually done it.”

“Wow! I really like alter-Emma. Except for the part about eloping. I’m supposed to be your maid of honor, remember?”

“Right. Of course. Can’t believe I wasn’t thinking about that.” Emma laughed.

“Oh, Emma. I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m pretty happy myself, thank you.”

“But?”

Emma tipped her head. “What do you mean, ‘but’?”

“Well, nothing. Just wondering if maybe real-Emma’s having second thoughts right now.”

“Because she couldn’t possibly do something without completely overanalyzing it, you mean?”

“Maybe? But not that it’s a thing you do? Because—you know—it isn’t? Much?”

Emma stood up and paced toward the screen door. “You know how you meet a guy, and he seems too perfect to be true?”

“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop rolling your eyes at me. I’m serious.”

“Fine. Yes. Of course. What woman hasn’t met that guy?”

“Exactly. So here he is, Mr. Too-Good-to-Possibly-Be-True, gorgeous, self-aware, self-sufficient, and strangely single.”

“Well, at least you know now that he’s not gay.”

“Very funny.” Emma shivered. “And no, he’s definitely not gay.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Exactly! What is the problem? What thirty-ish man with the qualities he’s got is still single? By choice?”

“So…you’re thinking he’s just the resident Lothario, and all he’s after is a good time until you leave town?”

“Maybe? I mean, right? Doesn’t that make sense?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the one who slept with him. Does it?”

Emma sighed. “God, I hope not.”

“Maybe—and go out on a limb here with me, even though you’re scared to—maybe he’s just a guy who hasn’t found his special someone yet because he was smart enough to wait. And maybe you’re her.”

“Gah.”

Ari laughed. “What does that mean?”

“It means, seriously, be real. You have read far too many romance novels.”

“I like romance novels. Everyone’s happy in the end. I want happy in the end. I want happy for you in the end. Sue me.”

“I just met the guy two weeks ago.”

“Yes, and you already slept with him. By choice. So I don’t know. I’m thinking either you’ve lost your freaking mind, or there’s something magical here that deserves to be explored.”

“Gah again.”

“Emma, you don’t do this. You never do this. So the fact that you did do this? Kind of a huge indicator, don’t you think?”

“Oh, it’s definitely an indicator. I just can’t figure out if it’s an indicator of utter insanity at this point.”

“Well, if it is, it’s kind of working for you, right?”

“Very funny.” Emma paced back toward the fireplace. “Kyla and Hayley hinted that maybe something happened in his past, but they wouldn’t say more than that.”

“And that scares you?”

“Well, how can it not?”

“Emma, what thirty-year-old man gets to that age without some baggage? What woman does? It goes with being a human. And yeah, maybe it’s a little scary because you don’t know his particular baggage, but I’m pretty sure if you found a man our age without any, it’s because he spent his twenties in a cryogenic capsule.”

Emma laughed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just needed to hear it.”

“So here’s another question for you.” Ari paused. “What does he know about yours?”

“Nothing. I am perfect. I have no baggage.”

“Excellent. Reality rules.” Ari chuckled. “So—you know—while you’re busy freaking out about his, maybe just remember you’ve got a pretty good boatload of your own, right?”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?”

“Nope. It’s supposed to help you remember we all have it. Stop worrying so much. Just see what happens. Have no expectations, and just live in the moment with it. The worst thing that could happen is you have an unbelievable three months in Big Sky country and come home with enough hot memories to fuel your fantasies for years.” She paused. “And don’t say ‘gah’ again. You know I’m right. Just have fun.”

Emma was silent, but memories of ten years earlier crept into her peripheral vision.

She’d lost her mind for a guy one other time in her life.

One.

And she’d promised never to do it again.

“Hey, Emma? We’ve got a problem.” Brandy’s voice pierced Emma’s fog on Monday afternoon as she walked back from the dining room. She hadn’t been on her fourth trip around Shady Acres, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jasper.

She hadn’t.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Archie. He’s complaining of chest pain.”

Emma pivoted, then set off toward Archie’s room, Brandy walking quickly to keep up. “Who’s with him?”

“Katrina.”

“Have we called 9-1-1?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not an acceptable answer.” Emma sped up, praying that this was just another one of Archie’s dramatic episodes. In the two weeks she’d been here, he’d had three besides the phantom rib fracture, but they had to treat each one as if it were real, in case it…was.

“Sorry.” Brandy sounded like a scolded puppy, and Emma took a calming breath, resetting herself.

“I’m sorry to snap. But we have protocols. You guys know the protocols. You’re drilled on them constantly. Chest pain has a protocol, so if someone asks whether you’ve called 9-1-1 , you need to be ready with an answer, okay?”

“Okay.”

They reached Archie’s room, and Katrina looked up, her stethoscope planted on his chest. Archie was in his bed, and he looked pale and clammy.

Oh, Lord. She’d never seen him look like this before.

Katrina rattled off numbers to Brandy, then took Archie’s hand in hers. “Listen, you old coot. The guys are on their way. Looks like you get a free pass out of here tonight, and maybe some better breakfast than Horace would be making you in the morning.”

“What do you need from me?” Emma asked, trying not to wring her hands. She needed to maintain composure, to present a calm, measured, authoritative tone, to offer assistance without getting in the way.

Meanwhile, she was sending silent, frantic please-don’t-die messages to whoever might be listening.

Katrina adjusted Archie’s pajama top. “If you could meet the guys out front and send them down here, that would be great. And we need to call his son and let him know we’re sending him over to the hospital.”

“Don’t call my damn son,” Archie growled from the bed. “He’ll stop by the bank on his way up here to make sure my accounts are in order before I die.”

“You’re not going to die, Archie.” Katrina squeezed his hand. “This is just a precaution.”

“I don’t care. Don’t call my son. If you have to call somebody, call Jasper. He’s the only one who gives a hoot whether I stick around, anyway.”

Emma felt her jaw tense at the mention of Jasper’s name, because short of calling the café, she realized she didn’t actually know how to get hold of the man.

Good Lord, she’d slept with him, and she didn’t even have his number!

Katrina raised her eyebrows. “Can you call Jasper?”

“Yes.” Emma nodded like of course she could. “I’ll—”

“Archie, my man.” A uniformed medic strolled into the room, and Emma felt her shoulders drop six inches. Thank God they were here. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, the usual.” Archie tried to sound fierce, but his voice was weak. “Just bored, so I told them to give you a call and spice up the ward a little bit.”

“It’s not a ward, Archie.” Katrina batted him playfully.

“Whatever. Take me to the hospital where they have the good nurses, would ya?”

“You got it, my man.” The medic looked at the laptop screen Katrina turned his way, then nodded. “Okay, we’re bored, too, so we’re going lights and sirens this time, all right?”

Emma saw Katrina and Brandy share a worried look, but before she could interpret it, Archie was on a stretcher and on his way down the hall to the waiting ambulance.

“That was—fast,” she said, feeling her hands start to shake.

“Not a drill this time,” Katrina replied as she straightened up his bed and pushed his slippers underneath. “His numbers don’t look good.”

“What do you think’s happening?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know for sure.”

Emma nodded. “Well, I’m a paper-pusher, so enlighten me enough to have something intelligible to tell Jasper.”

Katrina’s eyes widened as she looked at Emma, then at Brandy, then back at Emma. And then she laughed. It was a stress laugh, but it was still a laugh, and when she gathered Emma into a quick hug, it felt sort of…not fake.

“You are precious,” she finally said.

“I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

“Sure it is.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop, then closed it. “It looks like a heart attack to me, but a lot of things can look like a heart attack, including anxiety, which Archie has definitely dealt with. I’m crossing my fingers that it’s that, but we can’t ignore the possibility of the other, so we’ll let the experts figure it out.”

“Okay. I’ll go call Jasper.” Emma paused in the doorway. “Archie really doesn’t want his children to know, does he?”

Katrina sat down on the end of his bed, looking up at the ceiling like she was gathering her thoughts.

“Archie’s been here for eight years. You want to know how many times his kids have visited?”

Emma shook her head. “Probably not.”

“You’re right. They came here once, en masse, five years ago when he did have a heart attack. And they hovered for three days, bringing him drinks and fixing his pillows and generally behaving like you’d hope kids would. But then, when it was clear he was going to be fine—wasn’t going to die and leave them all of his money—off they went, and we haven’t seen them since.”

“Do they live far away?”

“Farthest one’s two hours.” Katrina raised her eyebrows. “So you see why he doesn’t want us calling them. Jasper’s been more of a son to him these past five years than anybody ever was.”

Emma nodded, then headed down the hallway toward her office. Did Jasper have this effect on everyone?

When she sat down at Bette’s desk, she found the number for Java Beans, and with shaky fingers, tapped in the digits.

“Java Beans! Help you?” a teenaged male voice answered.

“Is Jasper there, please?” Emma asked.

“Um, not right now. He’s out for the afternoon.”

“Do you know how I can reach him?”

There was a pause. “Who’s calling?”

“Emma. Emma Winthrop. I’m calling from Shady Acres.”

“Is his dad okay?”

“Oh! Yes! Yes, he’s fine.” Emma thwacked her forehead for not realizing that would be anyone’s first thought. “I just need to speak to him about something else.”

“Okay. Well, we’re actually not supposed to give out his cell number, but I can tell him you called.”

“Um, if it’s kind of an emergency, can you give it to me?”

“Tell you what—give me the message, and I’ll call him. And then he can call you back. How’s that?”

Wow. Jasper had his employees pretty well trained. Emma sighed. She guessed she didn’t have a choice. She relayed the information about Archie, and then hung up, feeling her adrenaline rush turn into the opposite.

But there were things she needed to do right now. Steps she needed to follow to document Archie’s departure and condition. This was good. She could get out a checklist and run down it, doing all of the things one apparently did when this happened.

Maybe it would help chase away the jitters that were making her flex her fingers.

Maybe it would help chase away the fear that Archie might actually be really, really sick.

Maybe it would help chase away the fear that she’d made an epic mistake with a man who’d made her feel like precious glass and a caged tiger—all in the same night.

And hadn’t spoken to her since.