Emerald

by Elle Casey

  “Why don’t we just see how things go?” I suggest, feeling the heat starting to build between us.

  We pull apart and slowly walk to the bedroom, holding hands as we go. Once inside with the door shut, I watch him strip off his shirt and pants, getting down to his boxers. I swear I was ready to pass out from exhaustion two minutes ago, but now I’m suddenly awake and my body is tingling all over.

  When he turns around and gives me that look, his eyes dark and his jaw tensing, I know we’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon. I turn around and lock the door. When I face him again, he’s naked and ready for me. I slowly drop my skirt and step out of it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sam isn’t ready to tell his daughter that her mother has passed away, and he can’t very well bring her to the funeral, so she stays in the apartment with me. She isn’t too keen on the idea at first, but once I show her that I can stack a mean set of blocks and don’t mind when she kicks them over, she accepts me as a babysitter.

  “What’s your name?” she asks me.

  “My name is Emerald, remember?” You’d think after two days of having this conversation, she’d finally have it straight in her head, but no . . . Here we go again.

  She shakes her head, making her curls bounce. “I mean your real name.” She watches as I stack another block on top of the others.

  “That is my real name.”

  “No, that’s a color. I mean your real name.”

  I smile at this stubborn little stinker who’s well on her way to stealing my heart. Watching her bond with and tease her dad for the past two days has shown me what a sweet and sassy angel she is. Life is never boring with this kid around.

  “That is my real name. My name is Emerald Grace Collins.”

  She thinks about that for a few seconds. “Grace isn’t a real name either. It’s what a ballerina has. Ballerinas are graceful.”

  “You’re right.” I nod, never realizing before how incorrect my name was. “Ballerinas can be graceful. And they wear tutus.”

  She giggles. “That would be funny if your name was Emerald Tutu.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Yes, that would be funny.”

  “Where did my daddy go?”

  I put up a few more blocks before I answer. “He had to go out with some friends for a meeting.”

  “Is he jamming?”

  I’m trying to look as serious as possible. This kid’s vocabulary is something else. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to an adult. “Yes. I think he’s jamming.”

  “Well, where was his guitar? He didn’t have it when he left.”

  I shrug, feeling like I’m being interrogated under a hot lamp at the police station. “I don’t know. Maybe he had it out in his car.” I don’t know if Sadie’s aware of her father’s trip to New York, so I’m not going to tell her that this is where at least one of his guitars is.

  She shakes her head. “My daddy never leaves his guitar in the car. He says people will steal it. There are lots of stealers here.”

  “Maybe your daddy’s friend has it at his house.”

  “Why would my daddy’s friend have his guitar?”

  “Maybe he borrowed it.” I start using two hands to stack the blocks. I need to get this damn thing built so Sadie can start focusing on knocking it over instead of grilling me about her father. She’s relentless and I’m running out of stories.

  “My daddy never lets anybody use his guitar. He says they’ll screw it up.”

  “Well, that’s not very nice for someone to screw up his guitar, is it?”

  She puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head at me. “It’s not. When you borrow somebody’s stuff, you should be nice with it. And not break it, also.”

  “I agree one hundred percent.” I gesture at the tower that’s now almost as tall as she is. “Are you ready to knock this sucker over?”

  She folds her arms across her chest and studies it intently. “No. I don’t think so. I think it needs to be taller.”

  “You’re ready to cause some mayhem, aren’t you?”

  She looks at me, all innocence. “What is mayhem?”

  “It means a big, giant mess.”

  She smiles and nods, her little blond curls bouncing all over the place. “Yes! I’m going to cause some maydem. But I need this tower to be a lot taller first.”

  I salute her. “Yes, ma’am. And taller it shall be. And the word is mayhem, not maydem.”

  “Mayhem, mayhem, mayhem,” she mumbles under her breath as she helps me by handing me the next block she wants me to use.

  I spend the next couple minutes making sure it’s perfect. Then I stand up and step back. “Are you ready to cause some mayhem now, Miss Sadie?” Little Miss Mayhem is more like it.

  She takes a few steps back, adjusts her shoulders, and nods once. “I am ready.”

  “Should I do a countdown?” Before she would just rush the towers and blast them apart with her little foot, but it seems like this one needs a little more pomp and circumstance. The thing is taller than she is. I’m actually a little fearful she’s going to hurt herself.

  “Yes,” she says. “Count down.”

  “Okay . . . ready . . . set . . . ten, nine . . .”

  The doorbell rings.

  I pause my countdown.

  “Just ignore it,” Sadie says. She has all of her focus on those blocks. “Do the countdown.”

  I glance toward the door to Sadie’s room and out into the hallway but do as I’m told. “Eight, seven, six . . .”

  The bell rings again, several times, and then there’s a pounding on the door. Someone really wants to talk to Sam, but all of his friends are at the funeral. Paranoia and fear trickle into my heart.

  “Just ignore it.” She looks up at me, clearly frustrated. “We don’t answer the door.”

  “We don’t?”

  “No. We never ever answer the door. That’s the rule.”

  I’m now officially freaking out. Is that really the rule here? Why? Do they get a lot of annoying salespeople, or should I be worried about who’s on the other side of that door? I’m so happy Sadie has the vertical blinds closed over her window.

  “Sadie, why do you have a rule that you don’t answer the door here?” I pick up a block, trying to act casual as I weigh my options: I can continue to hide in Sadie’s bedroom, or I can go to the door and confront whoever is there. Neither sounds like a good idea.

  “Because. It’s gonna be those Jedobah Witniks again.” When she shakes her head and rolls her eyes, I can completely see her father in her expression.

  It takes me a few seconds to translate Jedobah Witniks into its proper form. I feel marginally better after hearing and understanding her explanation. “Oh. Okay. So if it’s a Jehovah’s Witness, we don’t answer the door, but what if it’s somebody else?”

  “Who else would come here? When my daddy jams, everyone goes there.” She walks around the stack of blocks carefully and stands next to me. Then she gestures for me to bend down. I fold in half and put my face close to hers.

  She leans in and whispers into my ear, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Maybe it’s the bad people.”

  Fear strikes my heart like a lightning bolt. I whisper back, “Bad people?”

  She nods and then puts her finger to her lips. She gestures for me to follow her as she goes over to her closet.

  “What are we doing?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Hiding from the bad people.” She climbs into the closet and crouches down in the corner, pulling a blanket over her bent knees. She motions for me to join her.

  My heart breaks right in half. “Sweetie . . . who taught you how to hide from the bad people?”

  She looks up at me, her eyes wide, full of both innocence and a healthy dose of fear. “My mommy did.”

  I immediately stand up straight. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let this tiny girl be afraid in her own house. This is ridiculous. Sam said that Drake guy isn’t going to come by her
e, and I believe him. I’m just going to go tell whoever it is to go away.

  “You stay here. I’m going to go look through the peephole and see who it is. I’m sure it’s probably just the Jehovah’s Witnesses with some pamphlets.”

  She’s still whispering. “Okay. I’ll stay here.” As I start to walk away, she speaks again. “Wait!”

  I turn around and she whispers at me, “Don’t open the door.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  By the time I get to the front door, there’s no one there, but I am nearly peeing my pants with fear. There’s no way in hell I’m staying in this apartment another minute; I don’t care if it was Jedobah Witniks ringing that bell or not. I have to get out of here and take Sadie with me. I don’t feel safe, and a sweet little princess like her should never have to hide in a closet in fear while she’s whispering about bad guys.

  I dial Sam’s number, but it goes immediately to voice mail. He’s probably in the middle of the memorial service. Should I call one of my sisters? No. We still haven’t talked about what happened yet, so this would be too much of a shock. We keep missing each other and leaving voice mails. Amber is super busy with the band in Japan, not only working but also doing a ton of sightseeing, and Rose is up to her ears in sick animals. I can’t scare either one of them with stuff they can do nothing about. I also can’t call my mothers because it’ll have the exact same effect.

  So, instead of alerting the entire world that I’m scared out of my wits, I leave a voice mail for Sam with details of my plan, and I call a cab. While we wait for the car to arrive, Sadie and I pack her little backpack with clothing and toiletries, grab my suitcase, and head out to the waiting vehicle. Sam can get his own bag; it’s too heavy for me to carry anyway.

  “Please take us to one of the hotels that’s right next to the airport,” I say to the cabdriver.

  “We talking LAX?” the driver asks.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Why are we going to the airport?” Sadie asks, her eyes going wide. “Am I going on an airplane?”

  “No, not right away. But would you like to someday?”

  We’re holding hands in the backseat. It was her idea, not mine. It feels nice, having her tiny hand there. I need to keep her safe, and holding on to her makes me feel like I’m doing that in some small way.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe. But maybe not.”

  “It’s really fun,” I say, trying to head off the future temper tantrum I see with Sam asking her to get on the plane and her refusing. I have a feeling Sam is going to want to get her on one sooner rather than later, once he hears about the visitor at his apartment.

  “But what if they crash?” She looks at me with worry in her eyes. “My mommy says that planes crash.”

  “No, they don’t.” I shake my head. “They’re very safe.”

  “My mommy lied?”

  Damn. She got me on that one. “No, she didn’t lie, because they used to crash; but they don’t anymore.”

  The cabdriver looks at me in the rearview mirror and shakes his head slowly. I guess, according to him, I’m screwing up. Well, hell’s bells, buddy! I’m new to this stuff and I have no idea what I’m doing! Don’t judge me!

  “Hey, what’s that?” I ask, pointing at nothing outside the cab.

  Sadie puts her hands on the windowsill and pushes her nose against the glass. “What? Where?”

  “Something blue,” I say, trying to tempt her into playing a car game with me.

  “I don’t see it,” she says, her breath fogging up the window. The condensation she made fascinates her enough that she makes more of it and then tries to draw pictures in it with her fingertip. I’m glad for the break in the conversation; I was seriously screwing it up. I refuse to look up at the cabbie to see if he approves.

  My phone rings and I glance down at it. Amber. I don’t really want to have a conversation with her in front of Sadie, because there are a lot of things I need to say to her that a little girl shouldn’t hear, but maybe I can give her some basics by talking in code. I need to hear her voice if nothing else. I answer the call and put the phone up to my ear.

  “Finally,” I say.

  “I know, right? It has been absolute madness over here. Madness, I’m telling you. But the Japanese people are amazing.” The smile and excitement in her voice are impossible to miss.

  Her happiness immediately lightens my mood. “That’s really cool. How are the moms taking it?”

  “Oh my god, they are on cloud nine. You wouldn’t even recognize them right now; they’ve all had makeovers. They don’t even look like themselves anymore.”

  My heart feels like it’s shriveling up in my chest as I picture my mothers turning into jet-setting frou-frou witches who no longer want to can beans and make jam. “Seriously? And you’re happy about that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? They look fantastic. They’ve dropped ten years from their looks. I’ve never seen them this happy.”

  “Oh.” My heart sinks even further.

  “Oh, come on, Em. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “What? For myself? Give me a break. It doesn’t bother you, even in the slightest, that our mothers are happier being gone from their lives?”

  “No, and it shouldn’t bother you either. They’re moving on to another era, just like you are. Life doesn’t have to stay stagnant all the time, Em. It can change and still be good.”

  “I’m not moving on from an era of my life. I’m in my life. My only life. My life is not changing.”

  She laughs. “You could’ve fooled me. Where are you right now?”

  Okay, so she has a teeny, tiny point. “I’m in LA. But I’m headed back to New York soon and then I’ll be going home, to Maine, where I belong.” I glance over at Sadie, but she’s too busy drawing little faces and flowers in her hot-breath fog on the window to pay me any attention.

  “See? You just proved my point. If I told you a week ago that you’d be out in LA running around with a guitarist, you would’ve told me I was nuts.”

  “I’m not running around”—I lower my voice is much as I possibly can—“with a guitarist.”

  “Oh. You’re not out there with Sam?”

  I let out a sigh. “Yes, I am.”

  “Okay, then, I’m right, and you’re wrong. Ha, ha. Ten points for me.”

  I can totally picture Amber giving herself a high five right now. “Anyway . . . whatever. I have news, but I’m not in a great position to be talking about it now, so we probably should have another phone call at a later time.”

  “No!” she exclaims. “You need to tell me everything now; this is the only break I’m going to get.”

  “This is your only break? What about going to the bathroom? Don’t they let you do that?”

  “You want me to call you when I’m sitting on the toilet?” She giggles.

  “Okay, no. Please don’t do that.”

  She sighs happily. “Just tell me, don’t be coy.”

  “I’m not being coy.”

  “You’re not? You sound serious. Oh, wait . . . Is there somebody there listening? Is that why you can’t talk now?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Who is it? Is it Sam? Oooh, cool, let’s girl-talk about a boy while he’s sitting right next to you.”

  “No, actually, it’s not Sam.”

  The sound of her father’s name catches Sadie’s attention. She spins around and stares at me. “Are you talking about my daddy?”

  There’s a gasp on the other end of the line. “Who was that? What did she just say?”

  Dammit! I’m so not sly at all! “It’s nobody. She didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, I did,” Sadie insists, her voice rising. “Are you talking to my daddy?”

  I pat her on the shoulder. “No, I’m not talking to your daddy. I’m talking to my sister.”

  “Who is she talking about?” Amber asks. Her cheerful tone is completely gone. “Is she talking about Sam? Does Sam have a child?�
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  Oh, crudbuckets. This conversation is not going at all how I wanted it to. “Would you calm down, please?”

  “No, I’m not going to calm down. This is huge. Are you telling me Sam has a kid, and I’m just finding out about it now by accident?”

  “No, I’m not saying that. Well . . . maybe I am kind of saying that, but no. Not like that.” I shake my head and then rest it against the window. This is hopeless.

  “Em, you seriously have to tell me what’s going on right now. If he has a child . . . I need to know about that stuff.”

  I lift my head off the window. “Why do you need to know about it? How is it even relevant?” I glance over at Sadie. She’s staring straight ahead, but I’m pretty sure she’s listening to every word I’m saying.

  “Because, it could change everything.” Amber’s voice suddenly sounds devoid of emotion.

  Panic hits me like a sledgehammer in the chest. I cannot screw up this deal with the band for Sam. “No, don’t say that. Everything is going forward as planned. I’m doing exactly what you told me to do, and everything is going to be fine. I’m handling it.”

  “Since when do you handle things?” she demands.

  “Since when do I not?”

  She snorts. “Since the beginning of your life on this earth. You always run away when things get difficult.”

  I gasp in offense. “I do not! That is such a lie.” Geez, could she be more insulting? She’s the one who told me to take care of Sam and get to the bottom of his issues. And am I not doing exactly that?

  “No, it’s not a lie, and you know it. I’m the one who runs headlong into problems. You’re the one who runs in the other direction. Avoid, avoid, avoid . . . that’s your motto.”

  I turn my face toward the window and lower my voice as much as I can, hoping Sadie won’t hear me. She doesn’t need to experience grown-ups not getting along. “I’m here, aren’t I? And I was in New York for you, too. So don’t give me that nonsense about being afraid. I’m anything but that. Now, if you don’t have anything nice to say to me, then I’m getting off this phone right now and you can just talk to me later.”

  There’s a long silence before she finally answers. “Okay. Fine. Maybe you’re not as afraid as you used to be.”