Blitzing Emily (36 page)

The sisters glared at each other for a few moments. Finally Amy reached one hand across the table.

“Em, you know that I love you, no matter what, don’t you?”

“Yes. I love you, too,” Emily responded in a shaky voice, “But please don’t yell at me anymore right now.”

“I want you to be happy. I want you to have something more than practices and hard work and sitting in a hotel room somewhere waiting to sing. I know you want something more, too. I—shit. I always wanted to be like you. But I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t think you want to, either. Listen to him. He’s telling you the truth.”

It was nine o’ clock in the morning, and Emily was so exhausted already she could barely keep her eyes open. “I want someone I can trust.”

“You already have that.”

“I don’t. I can’t trust him.”

Every man in Emily’s life she ever trusted had hurt her. It was what they did. She wondered how she could make anyone else understand the constant refrain inside her head.

The scent of the roses reminded her of the night she and Brandon spent together, how soft and velvety the rose petals scattered over the sheets were against her skin, and how they woke each other up again and again to make love.

Obviously, she’d had sex before. Even with an insane schedule, Emily met guys, she dated, and there were follow-up dates and resulting relationships. At the same time, those relationships felt like something expected, not like something she’d waited for.

Ever since she opened her eyes in the Sharks parking lot that icy afternoon, it felt as though Brandon had led her by the hand through somewhere she’d never been before. Her heart opened to him slowly, but surely. He let her set the pace, and he wooed her. She didn’t know men had that kind of patience. Just the thought that the feelings she believed matched her own might be a lie encased Emily in ice. People could see through it, but nobody could touch her, and nobody could hurt her.

“You realize, don’t you,” Amy said quietly, “that you’re never going to fall in love until you will risk letting someone in?”

“I know that. I
know
that,” Emily said. “I want someone who . . . Oh, forget it. I can’t explain it. I—Thank you for coming over.”

“You’re welcome.” There was a smile in Amy’s voice. “So, listen. When was the last time you skipped out for the day? Spend a little time with me.”

Emily’s voice teacher was on vacation. The only appointment she had today was with a treadmill. Maybe she should take a day off. She’d have to deal with more of Amy’s nagging, but she’d also get some time with her sister, always a treasured commodity.

“You know what? You’re on. Let me get my stuff.”

Emily hurried into her room to put on a pair of shoes and grab a jacket. She picked up Brandon’s engagement ring off the carpeting. She stared at it for a moment. She could have put the ring in a drawer or her jewelry box for safekeeping, but she didn’t. For some insane reason, she slid it into the front pocket of her jeans.

A
FEW DAYS
later, Emily went to her parents’ house for Sunday dinner as usual. The Seattle skies were as gray and leaden as her mood.

She opened the front door, called out, “Mom, I’m home,” and walked inside. She smelled a roast cooking in the oven. Her dad wasn’t in his usual spot: the recliner in the family room. She hurried into the kitchen to find her mom polishing wine glasses with a soft towel.

“Hi, honey,” her mother said. “How are you doing?”

Emily kissed her cheek. “Dad must be running a little late.”

Her mother didn’t meet her eyes. She turned away from Emily instead. “Want a soda or some water?”

Her mother was hiding something. She and Amy had speculated on what was going on between their parents for a while now. Neither was brave enough to come right out and ask, however. Maybe Emily should bring up the subject before her dad arrived. If she grilled her mother about her love life, hopefully, it would distract her mom from doing the same to her.

“I’ll have one if you’re having one. Mom, what’s going on with you and Dad?”

Emily’s mother pulled two cold cans of Diet Coke from the fridge, grabbed glasses, and filled hers with ice from the ice maker. They sat down at the kitchen table. She still wouldn’t look at her daughter as she concentrated on pouring the soda into a glass. With knit brows and pursed lips, anyone would think she was performing a surgical procedure of some sort.

“Mom.”

Meg still didn’t look up.

Emily let out a gusty sigh and rolled her eyes. She was going to have to spell it out, it seemed. “He’s spending more time here. Amy said she saw some of his things in the bathroom when she went in there the other day,” she said.

“Last time he was here, he was tired, and he didn’t want to drive back home.” Margaret stared at the tabletop. A flush spread up her neck, staining her normally pale skin.

“Mom.”

Meg finally met Emily’s eyes.

“If you and Dad are trying to get back together, Amy and I—We just want you to be happy.”

“We probably shouldn’t discuss this . . .”

Emily laid her hand on her mother’s forearm. “I’m not asking for details. I just want you to know that we’re both happy about this.”

Margaret Hamilton rubbed her face with housework-reddened hands. The long French braid she’d worn ever since her daughter could remember slipped over her shoulder. Margaret’s hair was gray now instead of the rich auburn it used to be. She moved a little more slowly than the woman who twirled her eldest daughter around the kitchen floor when Emily was younger, but she still had the graceful movements of a former ballerina. There were lines in her face, but her eyes were still a youthful cerulean blue.

Right now, those eyes were full of unshed tears.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Margaret said. “I was afraid the two of you wouldn’t understand.” She let out a sigh. “You’ll both marry someday and have families. I didn’t want to be alone, and I’m not good at dating. I thought your father would remarry. I know he dated a little right after we split up, but for some reason, it didn’t work.”

“He was still in love with you.”

“I don’t know. I was still in love with him. I thought I’d die when the neighbor saw him out to dinner with your classmate Christy’s mother. He met her at a PTA meeting. Maybe she had fewer bills than I did.”

Emily shook her head. Her parents couldn’t help bringing up the huge financial and emotional cost of her career preparation, and she couldn’t help the guilt she felt when she reflected how their lives would be different if she’d chosen another path instead.

“Honey,” her mother said, “I didn’t mean it that way. You know we would do it all again.”

“I feel badly that you both spent so much time focusing on what I needed. I worried about Amy.”

Margaret’s lips softened into a smile. “I think the fact that we didn’t fuss over her made her more independent. She wanted to succeed on her own terms, and she has.” She took a sip of her soda. “I worried about you girls when you were younger. Amy’s so assertive. I know you had to be as well, and I was afraid you’d end up hating each other.”

“You taught us to stand up for ourselves.”

Margaret shook her head again. “There are so many things I wish I could do over. You’re both strong women. I’m not sure how much I had to do with that.”

“Mom. We wouldn’t have known how to be strong if it wasn’t for you.”

She took Emily’s hand in both of hers. “How are you doing with the rehearsals for
Die Fledermaus?
”

“It’s fine. The role is tough, but I’ve been doing some extra practicing that’s paying off.” Emily had all kinds of time to practice, it seemed, since she was minus one fiancé. Her mother’s fingers lingered on Brandon’s ring, which sparkled in the sunlight coming through the kitchen window. After carrying the ring around in her pocket for a few days, she had worried it might fall out and jammed it back on her finger. She couldn’t bring herself to take it off again.

“Amy told me you were still wearing this.” Margaret raised one eyebrow. “Maybe you should tell me what happened, sweetheart.”

“I—I can’t talk about it.” Emily swiped at her eyes. Her misery threatened to engulf the earth, or at least her tiny part of it.

“The ex-girlfriend turned up pregnant, and you broke up with him.” Margaret took another sip of soda, regarding Emily over the rim of her glass. “Maybe you should give him another chance.”

“No. No, I can’t.”

“You’re being a little melodramatic. Emily Anne, you’re in love with that man, and he’s still in love with you.”

“Mom, can’t we talk about something else?”

“Do not tell me that you’re doing this because of what happened between your father and me,” her mother said. “What happened with us—you girls—I was stupid. We fought so much when we should have been pulling together. It’s mostly my fault.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s the truth. When I was young, I thought marriage was one long candlelit dinner. Moonlight and roses, romance. I was spoiled and immature, and I never gave him a chance. Your dad’s not Mr. Warm and Fuzzy. Instead of realizing that the way he showed love was to provide, I thought he didn’t love us because he spent so much time at work. He wanted to make sure we had everything we needed. When your music teacher sent a note home about how talented you are, his response was to get another job. He knew we’d need the money for voice lessons. I thought he was rejecting us because he was gone fifteen hours a day.”

“He seemed mad all the time.”

“Honey, he was exhausted. It wasn’t just the work. We weren’t being kind to each other. He felt misunderstood, and I felt ignored. If we’d talked about it . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You need to talk to Brandon about this.”

“I did.”

“Breaking off an engagement isn’t talking,” her mother said. “Would you rather have him, or would you rather end up alone and bitter? We wasted so many years, your dad and I. I was so angry for so long. If I would have talked to him about how I felt, instead of assuming what he thought and trying to hurt him the way I thought he was hurting me, we would have stayed with each other.”

“He cheated. End of story.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “Amy says he didn’t.”

“But the paternity test—” Was she the only one who thought the test mattered?

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. There is nobody else for him. He met with your dad when he had every indication that your dad didn’t like him. Brandon wanted him to know how serious he is about you.” She poured the rest of her can of soda into the glass. “He loves you. Sweetheart, love hurts. I’m not going to lie. At the same time, if you walk away from him, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

The front door opened and shut, and Emily heard her father’s footsteps in the entryway. “Honey?” he called out. That was new, too. Even when they were married, her father called her mother “Meg.”

“We’re in here,” Margaret responded. Emily heard the joy in her voice and saw the love in her mother’s eyes. No matter how gruff her father could be, in that moment, she knew how much her mom still loved him.

He walked into the kitchen and laid a bouquet of mixed flowers in Margaret’s arms, wrapped in clear cellophane and tied with a springtime green ribbon. “Amy talked me into these,” he told her. Margaret inhaled their scent deeply, clasping them against her chest as if they were the most precious things she’d ever seen.

“Thank you, baby.” She got up from her chair, embraced him, and kissed his cheek. Emily saw his shy smile. “Why don’t you sit with Emily while I give these some water? How about a beer?”

“That would be great.” He sat down heavily in the chair, tugged his tie off, dropped it on the kitchen table, and regarded his daughter. “Someone’s been crying. Want to tell me about it?”

“I’m okay.”

Emily saw a quick flash of hurt in his eyes, and she realized something in a split-second that took her most of her life to come up with. They all tuned him out. Her mom, Amy and Emily banded together, and at some point maybe he gave up trying. Just once, she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Dad.” Emily’s voice quavered. “I need you,” came out before she could stop it. She pressed her hand against her mouth.

He held out his arms. “Come here.”

She got up from the table, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I still love him,” she whispered.

“Maybe you should tell me something I don’t know.”

Her father’s voice was warm as his arms surrounded her. He had the comforting father smells she remembered—coffee, starch in his shirt, and aftershave. He laid his scratchy cheek against the top of her head. Her position was a little awkward as she stooped, but his embrace was soothing.

“I hate the thought of his ever being with anyone else,” she said.

“That’s not fair. You’re both adults. Of course you’d have relationships before you met each other.”

“I miss him.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” her dad said. “You know, he probably feels worse about this than you do.”

“What do I do if he—”

“What happens if you do something he’s going to have to forgive
you
for?”

Emily stood up. She had to be hearing things.

“You’re defending him.”

“He’s all right. We’ve talked a couple of times.”

She looked into her father’s face. “You didn’t like him,” she insisted.

“No, that’s not it. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t playing around.” He shook his head a bit. “I don’t want my little girl marrying just anyone. I don’t care if he’s in the NFL. He doesn’t scare me.”

Emily heard her mother bustling around the kitchen, the reassuring sounds of her footsteps, the oven door opening, and the delicious scents of a meal cooking. She sank into the chair next to her dad again. They sat at the same kitchen table they had owned since she was a child. She was doing things she’d done hundreds of times in her life before, but things were new and different today. Her dad took her hand.

“You need to make this right. Tell him you love him, and you’re sorry you fought. He’ll take care of the rest.”

She took another sip of her soda. “I hope so.”