Claiming Emma
Authors: Kelly Lucille
Claiming Emma
by
Kelly Lucill
e
Copyright 2016 Kelly Lucille
All Rights Reserved
For Ariel, who almost died giving birth to her own Emma. They are my Hannah and Lucy.
Every day, gifts beyond measure.
Hannah slumped down beneath the newly planted tree surrounded by unnaturally green grass. Unnatural because in the height of summer and in the middle of a drought most of the Sacramento city scape was a dry greenish tinged yellow or slightly crisped at the edges chartreuse. Even on this street where the small trendy shop owners obviously made an effort with brightly colored awnings, decorative iron accents and window boxes, environmental concerns beat out regular watering.
If she had the energy to look around Hannah would have probably commiserated with the drooping marigolds and poppies in their sad pots, but at the moment she was too light headed, hot and tired to feel anything but misery. Just being off her swollen and aching feet was a relief, add in the slightly cooler temperature beneath the scrawny new tree, and it was as close to heaven as Hannah could imagine at the moment. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how dry her mouth was, or how queasy and dizzy she was feeling. Instead, she did what she had wanted to do for most of the morning of job hunting. She toed off her sweaty hot pink Ked’s, and let her bare toes curl in what she only now realized was synthetic grass, as she just sat, resting her aching back against the harsh bark of the scrawny tree. Just having her overstuffed canvas tote off her shoulder was a relief and when she moved it to pillow her pregnant belly, she had to sigh out loud it felt so good.
"Are you alright?"
At the sound of the question, Hannah opened her eyes and looked into eyes nearly the same dark green color as the grass she sat upon.
Pretty eyes
, Hannah thought, and couldn't help her usual twinge of envy when faced with eyes so much more exotic than her own.
Her own brown eyes were boring, had always been boring and would always be a normal, boring brown. Hannah shook off the ridiculous, useless thought and tried to smile at the concerned looking stranger.
The eyes were the only exotic thing about the woman, slightly tilted and framed by long sooty lashes. She was older than Hannah, but not like super old or anything, probably in her late twenties, or early thirties. Her hair was dark brown and curled softly. Besides her pretty eyes, the woman’s hair was by far her best feature, hanging shiny and thick to the small of her back framing a kind face
Hannah had pretty hair too usually, not super thick and wavy like this woman’s, but naturally blond and pretty. Not that you could tell right now with the straight length of it back in a sweaty pony tail. She had pulled it up in a rubber-band high off her neck when the heat started to get to her.
And if it had been a year ago when Hannah was a normal teenager who worried too much about how she looked in her pep squad uniform and whether Bryan Denby would notice her and not enough about making the honor roll, she might have felt superior to the woman looking down at her. Because clearly no matter how pretty her eyes or how nice her hair the woman needed to lose like thirty pounds. She was what her father would have called "well-padded" with that appreciative look in his eyes that always made Hannah roll her eyes in disgust. In high school they just called it fat.
But it was not a year ago, and looking up at the pretty "well-padded" woman in her cute, probably vintage yellow sun dress and adorable strappy sandals, looking so put together and cool in the heat of a scorching day; all Hannah felt was sweaty, frazzled, and pregnant sitting in her too tight jeans and way too big purple t-shirt. A t-shirt she bought at Target for like three dollars on clearance when her own clothes stopped fitting.
She tried not to squirm under those pretty, sympathetic eyes.
"I'm fine," Hannah said trying to sit up and look less pathetic.
"You don't look fine," the woman said after a good two awkward minutes of silence that she spent studying Hannah. "You look like you need a cool place to rest with a real chair and a cold beverage." Then she pursed her glossy cupids bow lips, her eyes twinkling a bit in ready humor, though her words were matter of fact. "Or maybe a week at a spa."
The thought almost made Hannah whimper it sounded so good. She held it back barely, and licked her dry lips. She had fifteen dollars and eighty-three cents left to her name and a long way to walk to get to the apartment she was currently sharing with three college coeds where she had rented a room with most of her money. Money she only had because her mom had thrown a wad in her face when she kicked her out.
Hannah had wanted to walk away from that wad of cash fluttering across her family home’s front porch, but her mother had said it was money her brother had sent for her fifteenth birthday. A birthday that had occurred nearly seven months prior. Five hundred dollars to put towards a car or her college fund, or 'blow as she saw fit'. Her mother had sneered the last and Hannah knew that was what her brother must have said in the letter. A letter her mother had never mentioned and money Hannah had never heard about until that moment.
If Noah had written and sent her a birthday gift then he hadn't forgotten about her like she thought, like her mother had wanted her to think all these years. Which meant that maybe he hadn't lied at their father's funeral when he told an eleven-year-old Hannah that she could always contact him if she needed anything. He might only be her half-brother, her adult half-brother who was a scary big army ranger dude who never smiled and seemed to only get harder and scarier every time she saw him growing up, but he had promised, and unlike every other person in her life who had broken promises and lied to her, when Noah had made her that promise she had believed him. At least until his few letters stopped coming, and the years passed without a word. Or so she thought.
It was the second front door that had been slammed in her face, after Bryan did the same with a sneer and told her she was lying about him being the father, and calling her a slut. A blow that had shriveled her teenage heart more than her mother’s cold disgust could. Her mother, at least, had not been exactly a surprise. Tightening her lips and trying not to cry angry tears Hannah had glared at the offending portal and stooped her then three months’ pregnant butt down and collected every dollar of that money, knowing that she would need it to get by until she could contact her scary half-brother, and having not the first clue how to do it after so long.
And after nearly two months of calling around to the army bases and sending letters to Captain Noah Hale care of US army, (and doing it on pay phones since her mother had turned off her cell phone service even before Hannah had walked the two blocks to the bus stop) she was no closer to finding him, she was past due on her rent and no one wanted to hire an obviously pregnant teenager with no high school diploma.
She needed help, she knew she needed help, she just had no clue where to go to get it. What she did not need was to spend her last fifteen dollars on a coke, a burger and fries like she wanted to, or on a cab ride home, which also sounded freaking fantastic right now.
So she smiled at the woman again, forced though it was, and said, "I'm fine," again.
The woman shook her head and smiled and Hannah assumed for a moment that the lady would be happy with that answer and leave, until she reached forward and hauled Hannah off her butt and onto her swollen aching bare feet. A move that shocked Hannah, and she disliked for more than one reason. Not the least of which because there was absolutely no way she was getting her sweaty shoes back on in a standing position, and the quick motion made her dizzy head reel inside the confines of her gritty skull.
But the woman knelt down until she crouched at Hannah's knees and helped her put on first one shoe and then the other, not seeming to be put off by the sweaty dirty mess her shoes, and probably her feet, were at the moment. She had her shoes on and Hannah moving before she could get back enough equilibrium to protest.
The stranger pulled Hannah's bag from her resisting hands and, holding it hostage, she led her down the hot sidewalk and into the cool dark shop two doors down from where she had been sitting.
The loss of heavy sharp light was immediate as soon as they entered and had Hannah fighting a new dizziness. Her skin felt as if it was sucking up the air conditioned coolness after the heat of the day.
Hannah found herself shoved gently into a big oversized arm chair before she could tell the woman she was going to hurl all over her if she kept pulling her around like that.
The shop smelled strongly of herbs: lavender and sage, some lemon grass and a whole bunch of things Hannah could not name but smelled amazing just the same. After the heated asphalt and car exhaust Hannah had been breathing all day, the difference here was another hit to her equilibrium. So she didn't immediately stand and make her escape. Plus, the chair was so comfy and the air so cool, it would have taken more than the threat of some stranger carting her around to get her to move again.
Hannah was still looking around taking in the spices and teas on display, as well as the colorful soaps, bath oils and lotions surrounding her in the empty shop, when the woman returned from wherever she had gone with a tall pretty green glass of something that smelled of grapes and lemon. Without thought Hannah's hand closed around the fancy cut green glass that the woman passed to her and the feel of the cold, smooth against her hot palm, made her want to press the glass to her head, and the back of her neck.
"Drink," the woman said, with another smile. "It's grape juice with a touch of lemon."
Since it smelled better than it sounded Hannah took a hesitant drink and knew her eyes widened in surprise. She had no idea whether it was the fact that she was just so thirsty, or her pregnant taste buds were wonky, but she could swear that was the best thing she ever tasted
. In her life.
The woman smiled. "It's my grandmother’s recipe. I grow the grapes myself in my garden, and then freeze fresh squeezed lemon into ice cubes to add the zing."
Hannah gawked at the woman. People really grew grapes in their garden and froze lemon juice they squeezed themselves?
Who was this woman?
Hannah cleared her throat and didn't guzzle it down her parched throat with an effort and instead said simply. "It's good."
The woman laughed a little, that twinkle back in her eyes, but her words were still that matter of fact easiness when she said, "I'm Emma."
Hannah eyed the hand the woman Emma offered her, before hesitantly reaching her free hand out and taking it.
"Hannah," she answered, wondering at the soft grip that enveloped her hand. Their hands were roughly the same size, but Emma's were softer; her nails short, but shaped and buffed, her hand clean and cool like the pretty glass that Hannah still held in her other hand, but sturdy for all that. Hannah expected it to feel awkward, like a hundred other times she had to shake some adults hand in passing out of forced politeness. It didn't feel awkward though.
Emma squeezed her hand just a bit, offering a comfort Hannah could feel, and then she let go and smiled again. The twinkle back in her eyes.
"Drink the juice. I think you have minor heat stroke happening and it will help. I'll get you some crackers to settle your stomach and you can tell me what brings you to this particular street in the heat of the afternoon. Then it should be about time for Marley to return from her doctor appointment and I'll take you to get something to eat and see you home."
Hannah blinked at that. "How did you know my stomach..." Hannah started then stopped realizing what else Emma said and quickly spoke. "That's not necessary. I'll just drink this and then head home on my own. It was really nice of you to let me sit here."
Emma smiled again, and Hannah thought, again erroneously, that she was going to let it go at that when she left the room again. But she returned with a box of fancy crackers and some sliced cheese and fruit and placed it on the small side table beside Hannah's chair. Then she knelt down and removed Hannah's shoes while Hannah sputtered and tried to hold her feet away while at the same time trying to keep her glass from spilling grape juice all over both of them and the lovely old chair. Then her shoes were gone and while she was staring down at her once again exposed dirty feet the woman with the soft hands and no nonsense voice moved away and returned again with a tub of what looked like soapy water and slipped Hannah's poor swollen feet into it.
It was warm but not hot and it smelled like the rest of the shop with herbs she didn't know the name of floating in the bubbles. Hannah knew she was gawking again, but who made foot baths for strangers off the street and forced their dirty feet into them?
Who?
"There," Emma said. Sitting on her knees and holding Hannah's feet in the water. "This will help with the swelling, so keep them in here, and once they soak awhile I have a lotion that will help with the blisters. Then you can put your feet up and rest until it's time to go eat."
Hannah was still trying to sputter her answer when Emma stood and disappeared back into whatever room was beyond the curtains at the back of the herb shop. Ignoring Hannah's feeble arguments completely, she called back. "Eat your crackers. It'll help."
When the woman returned through the curtain and narrowed those pretty eyes a bit Hannah grabbed a cracker and quickly bit down. That satisfied her and she smiled, disappearing again.
Hannah finished the rest of the cracker that tasted strongly of pepper and took a drink of the amazing grape juice with lemon ice cubes. Then she ate another cracker all the while wondering that her feet had stopped hurting, and trying to remember the last time they were pain free. Then she thought about food and a ride home.