“Let me do this for you?” He smiled wide enough to give her pause.
“No. I’d feel better if I talked to someone.”
“You asked about my scars, and I haven’t told you yet.” His expression was grim. She paused, unsure how to proceed. She wanted to know this more than anything. She wanted to know him. And he wanted her to know him. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. A gaggle of Canada geese honked their way through the lot, and a pack of kids appeared out of nowhere to watch.
“Let’s be quick then. We can meet under our willow.” She started thinking of it as their willow as opposed to her willow the night Mavis found her there and he stayed to keep her company.
His fingers slipped off the leather cover, and Emma grabbed her purse. Together they walked into the lobby and parted ways. At the desk she waited, unsure about handing over the journal. Her toe tapped against the tile floor. Thoughts of what Nicholas might say consumed her. The same snippety girl she’d seen all summer sat at the desk, texting on her cell phone.
“Hello?”
The girl looked up but didn’t stop texting. It
creeped
Emma out a little.
“Hi. I’m Emma Hastings. I called a while back about finding a journal. Has anyone come in looking for a journal?” She placed it on the counter and waited, trying not to sound too eager.
The girl stopped chewing the gum in her mouth and stared. “You had the journal?” Her eyes narrowed. As if she didn’t believe her.
“Yes. I had the journal. Has someone come in for it?”
“Uh. Yeah. That guy.”
Emma followed the girl’s gaze to the most handsome man in the room, in the world. Nicholas leaned his shoulder against the far wall, watching. When her mouth fell open, he lifted a palm waist high and struggled to put a smile on his face.
“Him?” She looked at the girl for clarification. Maybe there was another man there a minute ago who left before she looked. Maybe the girl was nearsighted. Anything else.
“Yeah. Him.” She turned back to her phone.
Nicholas pushed off from the wall and moved in her direction.
“Don’t.” She forced the word out of her suddenly dry lips. The journal burned her fingers, and she pulled them away. “Don’t,” she said louder this time. Her head shook, her hands trembled, and betrayal seared her heart.
He knew, and he let her go on and on like a fool. She felt like such a joke. He made her into a joke. What else did he think was funny? He knew how she felt about him, and he said nothing. Did he not want her to feel so strongly for him?
Like the day she found the journal he stood near the door frowning, and she pushed her way past him without looking back.
Chapter Sixteen
Emma worked a thread from her blouse around one finger, suppressing a tear. She had no idea how one body could make so many. Tears rolled freely over her cheeks when she walked out on Nicholas at the lodge. Heather left the lifeguard station the minute Emma sobbed unintelligibly into her cell phone. The ride home was excruciating. It hurt to breathe. Everything changed that day. Her tummy knotted from lack of sustenance and excess of emotion. Nothing felt good anymore. Trivial things like food didn’t deserve the energy she’d have to exert to acquire them.
“I missed you last week.” Dr. Kennedy leaned forward on her desk. “I’d rather hoped your no-show was due to some blissful event you’d fill me in on later. From the looks of you, I’m guessing I was wrong.”
A flock of birds flew over her truck outside the office window. A perfect arrow formation except for one straggler. Emma could sympathize.
“How are things with your mother?”
Emma looked up. She expected questions about the journal or her love life. The last they talked, James and the journal were the main topics of interest. “Good.” This topic, she could speak on without losing it. “I had a rough time last week with some things, and my mom hounded me until I spilled the entire story.”
At the time, she cursed her stupidity for giving her mother a key to her home, but once she arrived at her bedside, everything changed. Her mother stayed all day and overnight. She cleaned, brought organic tomato soup and grilled cheese to Emma in bed and never once complained about her eating there.
“What did your mother say?” The concern in the doctor’s voice made it harder not to cry.
“She said she loved me. She told me how much she hated herself whenever she knew she’d said the wrong thing, but pride kept her from apologizing. Almost losing me changed her. I knew that, but I didn’t understand how afraid she is, worrying every day it might happen again.” When her mother stroked her back and cried with her, Emma absorbed her pain. Her mother lost something the day Emma had her heart attack. She lost the peace of mind she’d outlive her only child. And she lived every day since in fear. “I’d be cranky too if I was her. I had no idea how she felt before.”
“This is wonderful news, Emma. A good relationship with your mother will do wonders for your happiness. How about the other things we talked about last time I saw you?”
Trickster. She got her talking then slipped in the unmentionable. Emma pursed her lips.
“The journal,” she nudged.
Tears welled up, blurring the view out Dr. Kennedy’s window. She cleared her throat. “I returned it.”
“You found the owner?” The doctor looked surprised. She rarely looked any way but blank. Sometimes concerned. Never invested or surprised. The emotion on her face made it harder to talk. Telling someone who didn’t care would be easier than telling someone who mattered to her.
Emma nodded too many times. Her head felt detached like a big red bobble head of herself.
“And you’re disappointed?”
She hung her head in despair. A thousand words pressed up from her heart to her lips. She fought them, wanting to move on, put it behind her, and not care. Humiliation burned her cheeks and throat. How stupid could one person be? How did she fall in love with him twice and not know it? Why didn’t he tell her? He let her walk over to the desk and ask about his journal like a complete idiot.
“I am.”
“He wasn’t who you expected?”
“No.” And then the floodgates opened. Sobs wracked her body, and she wanted to run away. No one should see her this way, and in the past 10 days, Dr. Kennedy was number three, close behind her mother and Heather. She wanted to be strong and confident. Like him. The breakdown continued, and a box of tissues appeared by her feet. She reached for them without lifting her head.
“Did you have someone else in mind?”
“No.” As the tears slowed, Emma pulled herself upright, hiding behind her hair as much as possible without feeling obvious. “I knew him.” Emphasis on knew. After that day, she wondered if she knew anything.
“You hoped for a new friend?” Her voice twisted. Confusion coated the words.
“No.” The sadness sucked off her like a vacuum. Her spine stiffened. “I fell in love with someone else.” To describe her situation as complicated wasn’t enough. “I already loved the soldier in the journal. In a way I can’t describe. Then I loved someone else too.”
“You connected to the soldier on a private, emotional level.”
“Yes.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I understood him, and it changed me, knowing I wasn’t alone. If a big brave soldier was afraid sometimes, then I could be too. Like, his loneliness and grief and frustration justified mine. We were soul mates. Then I met him, but I didn’t know it was him, and I fell in love with him again.” She threw her hands up. Anger crept in, replacing the tears.
“You love Nicholas?” Her breathy voice brought Emma’s eyes to hers. She remembered his name?
“Yes. I love his confidence and sense of humor and playfulness. I even love his dopey dog.”
“Two sides of one man. People are complicated. You know that. Sometimes, when we let people in and open ourselves up the way you did, we have to accept the good with the bad. Those journal entries were blips on the radar of his life, how he felt at those small moments. They aren’t who he is all day.”
Emma dried her face and stuffed the tissues in her pocket. She never kept a journal, but a number of entries she might’ve made came to mind. How she felt coming home to Honey Creek when she wanted to photograph the world instead. How boxed in she felt. She’d blamed God for taking away her pretty body, ruining her dreams of having babies. Those things meant little to her now, comparatively, but at the time, she was different. Angry. Those entries wouldn’t have represented her. They would only have revealed how she dealt with her loss in the moment. Dr. Kennedy was right. She loved her life now. In fact, she was often grateful for the changes that brought her home.
“I’m sorry our time’s almost up,” Dr. Kennedy said. “You’ve finally started talking. You can take all the time you need before you leave. My next appointment cancelled again.” She diverted her gaze from Emma. “What’s important isn’t what has already happened, but how you choose to move forward. I think you need to take the tough parts and make something good with them. Good can always come from bad, Emma. I believe that. You have to decide where to go from here and proceed on your own terms. You’ve already reconciled with your mother. That’s an amazing start.” She smiled. Her eyes brimmed with kindness. “Next week I want to hear what else you’ve done to bring positives from your situation. You’re one of the strongest people I know, and I have to say I’m looking forward to hearing what you accomplish.”
“Thank you, Dr. Kennedy.” Emma pulled her bag onto her shoulder and stopped when Dr. Kennedy stood too. She pulled Emma into a hug and patted her back twice.
“There are amazing things in your future.” She looked over Emma’s face. “Don’t shut them out. Usher them in.”
****
Clarissa’s small home off Route 22 looked a lot like her parents’ home. White, tall and narrow. She sat on the porch thumbing through a fashion magazine when Emma pulled up at the curb. Clarissa pulled her oversized white sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and grimaced.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize.” Emma climbed the front steps, handed her a bag from the market and offered a weak smile to go with it.
“Strawberry Pop Rocks and Coke.” Clarissa smashed her lips into a straight line. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got something on my mind, and I thought we could talk like we used to. I didn’t think I could lure you to my parents’ barn, so I brought the comfort food here.”
Clarissa kept her eyes on Emma. She reached behind her on the swing and pulled out a bag of Combos. The laughter bubbled up like a fresh spring in the desert. Tears welled again, and Emma realized for the first time, she’d lost more than she knew. She’d lost her closest childhood friend in her efforts to shut out the world. They ripped into the snacks, and Emma wiped her swollen eyes.
“Go on.” Clarissa folded her legs up on the swing beside her.
“While I was away at school, I had a heart attack.” The words floated from her lips. They tasted like freedom.
Clarissa’s eyes bulged. “What?” Her hands hovered without purpose between them, wanting to help, knowing they were five years too late. “Oh my goodness. How? I don’t understand.”
This time the story came nice and easy. She described the scene and the pain, the fear and humiliation. When she looked back to Clarissa, she found tears covered her cheeks. Her friend pulled her into the tightest hug she’d had in ages and begged her forgiveness.
“I am so sorry. I’m the absolute worst friend ever in the history of friends. I let you down. No wonder you never spoke to me again!”
“What? No! I’m the worst friend, not you. I suck eggs. You had no idea, and I was adamant no one find out. I felt broken. Old ladies have heart attacks! Not me. I’d just run five miles that morning. And the scars.” She pulled her collar down to reveal the top of her wounds. “My pride hurt. My dreams shattered. I was living out a serious pity party. I came home at first. Mom took care of me. I hated it, stuck in the same bedroom I plotted to escape for so many years. I didn’t want to go anywhere and people talked. They dropped by with food and nosy questions. Why was I home before graduation? Why didn’t I go out? Mom tried to honor my wishes. I said I’d tell them when I was ready.” She sucked in a full chest of air. “I was never ready. I healed up and left. I made a second attempt at life outside of Honey Creek, but I lost the push I had before. Life stopped exhilarating me and started exhausting me. I moved home two years ago and kept to myself as much as possible outside of work.”