by Gayle Hayes
Emma sat down. She was surprised that hearing his voice affected her.
"I've never been to Paris. I hope you have a good flight."
"And I hope you know how much I enjoyed your company Thursday evening. It's made me rethink signing another contract. It may be time to retire and start building my dream home in Denver before it's too late," Jack said.
Emma was surprised to hear Jack might consider changing his life because of her. She was at a loss for words.
"Are you still there, Emma?"
"Yes. It was nice of you to call."
"Will you think about Christmas? It would be much merrier with my arms around you," he said.
"I'll think about it."
Emma walked around the desk and sat down. She remembered the way Eric looked when he said he'd made a welfare check at the office because he'd missed her. He was so uncomplicated compared to Jack. She knew she could trust Eric. She wanted to trust Jack. He was less accessible than Eric. She was attracted by the mystery and repelled by her suspicions.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Eric parked three blocks away from the high school gym in Buffalo Jump, opened Emma's door, and locked it behind her. It was already dark outside, and Emma could see the brightly-lit high school in the distance. When they were closer to the school, Emma noticed there were parking spaces available.
"There are plenty of parking spots up here," she said.
"Trust me. They're going to be sitting here waiting for an opening to pull out long after you and I are gone," Eric said.
"How many people come to this event?" Emma asked.
"I think they figured about a thousand last year."
"What's the population of Buffalo Jump?" Emma asked.
"About a thousand. Sun River County has about ten thousand. A lot of the folks come from the surrounding area."
Eric saw a friend and his wife and introduced them to Emma while they waited in the line that formed outside the gymnasium.
When Emma and Eric were inside, he checked their coats, and suggested they walk the perimeter of the party first. A stage for the band was in the center of the gym. People were dancing to Monster Mash. Decorations included black and orange streamers, skeletons, witches, zombies, and various other creatures Emma did not recognize.
Emma enjoyed watching the younger children. Some bobbed for apples while others wearing blindfolds stuck their hands into bowls of goo and tried to guess what it was. Their giggles were infectious.
The adults came as themselves. A few of them didn't need a costume to be scary. The teenagers dressed up as Freddy Krueger, Jaws, Hannibal Lecter, and Jason Voorhees. The younger children were policemen, firemen, football players, princesses, nurses, and ballerinas.
Emma and Eric sat with his married friends. Conversation was difficult. The band was loud, and it seemed everyone was talking, laughing, or screaming at once. The two couples sipped their espresso and sampled caramel corn, ginger cookies shaped like witches, and pumpkin cheese cake with chocolate cobwebs. Eric suggested they go through the haunted house so Emma could see what he and his buddies at the sheriff's department put together.
The haunted house was supposed to be everyone's nightmare about prison. It was completely dark with the exception of a strobe light searching for escaped serial killers and mass murderers who were loose in the prison. Emma got caught up in the experience as she was grabbed from behind, confronted with a partially severed head, and sprayed with colored water that appeared to be blood pumping from a body impaled on a meat hook. Along with the physical frights, there were blood curdling screams, moans, maniacal laughter, and sirens. Emma understood why it was for adults only. A more benign haunted house was on the other side of the gym for the children.
Emma and Eric attempted dancing, but the gym was so crowded, they soon gave up and watched everyone else instead.
Eric's ticket matched the one that was drawn for a door prize. It was a gift certificate for Minnie's Confectionery. He gave it to Emma.
They left the party early. Eric's shift would start at half past six the following morning. He walked Emma to the front door, made sure she was safely inside, and promised to call her the next day.
After spending the evening in the crowded, noisy gym, Emma thought she'd enjoy the quiet of Harold's house. She was surprised it seemed too quiet. She was lonely. It seemed sleep was the best antidote for loneliness. She undressed, pulled her nightgown over her head, and slipped under the covers. Then she tried to forget about the sound of Jack's voice on the phone and Eric's gentle kiss on her cheek. She drifted off to sleep.
Emma was in the shower and thought she heard the bathroom door open. She listened for a moment, was satisfied it was her imagination, and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Then she filled her bath sponge with vanilla gel and lavished suds on her neck, chest, and legs. She reached for her bath brush and then saw the shadow outside the shower curtain. She pulled back the curtain, and slammed the bath brush into the man's hand. That sent the knife he'd been holding into the air and across the room. He lunged for the knife, but Emma got to it first. Slippery as she was, it was easy to slide across the floor and grab the knife handle. Without a second thought, she swiped at the prone man, but he managed to get to his feet and run out of the bathroom. Emma followed, still gripping the knife, and caught up with the man in the kitchen as he reached for an even larger knife from the rack on the counter. He swung around and sliced through the air. Emma lunged at him. When he fell back against the refrigerator, Emma plunged the knife into his stomach. Blood spurted everywhere as the man slid to the floor. Then Emma saw he had no face. She heard sirens, and then someone grabbed her hands and was cuffing them behind her back. When she turned around, Eric was frowning at her. "Come with me, lady," he said.
Emma was frightened and confused. "Eric, it's Emma. I'm not a lady…well, I am, but I'm not just some lady. It's me, Eric. Don't you remember? You kissed me at the inn."
Nothing Emma said seemed to register on Eric. He roughly pushed her toward the bedroom and helped her into her robe. How'd he do that? She wondered. My hands are cuffed behind my back.
Emma heard maniacal laughter and knew she was doomed when she saw the judge. Jim Sanborn must have quit his law practice. He was even more repulsive now. She tried to explain that she'd killed an intruder as she showered in Harold's house. Sanborn wasn't interested in the intruder with the knife. He said Emma was to blame because she pretended she needed to work in Buffalo Jump and then was caught showering in someone else's house. She pleaded with him to understand it was her house now, but he ordered her to sit down and shut up. Then he asked the jury for their verdict. Emma stood to face them and was surprised they were so young. They were not a jury of her peers at all but mere children pretending to be nurses, firemen, policemen and ballerinas. The prosecutor looked like Wonder Woman, but she was a teenager.
"Your honor, this trial is a mockery. I demand a fair trial and a new lawyer."
Emma turned to her lawyer to complain about the age of the jurors and was shocked to see Jack Hennessey grinning. In a soft, sensual voice he said, "Emma, don't worry. It'll be much merrier in prison with my arms around you."
Before Emma could beg Jack to help her stay out of prison, Sanborn shouted for order and banged on Harold's desk with an axe. To her horror, he was now wearing a hockey mask and looked like Jason Voorhees. He shouted her sentence.
"LIFE IN BUFFALO JUMP, MONTANA WITHOUT ANY CHANCE OF PAROLE!"
Emma woke up screaming and sat up in bed. Then she realized she'd been dreaming. She pulled the comforter around her and sat in the dark for a few minutes. The dream was so vivid it was still fresh in her mind. She wondered if it had any significance. It might have been her subconscious sorting out the choices that were weighing on her mind. On the other hand, the haunted prison might have been too realistic and scary. She fluffed her pillow, burrowed her head into the center of it, and slept soundly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Emm
a watched huge snowflakes drift by and wished the weather would have been more like autumn instead of winter for her visit. She would not be able to spend any time in the garden. Sitting by the creek would have been more pleasurable than productive. It was one of the few things she was sure about. Spending time with Eric was what she needed most of all. She would have to wait until evening when he was free.
Carol arrived mid-morning and drove Emma to her home for lunch. She'd baked individual chicken pot pies and peanut butter cookies. While they ate, Carol brought Emma up to date on life in Buffalo Jump. Emma sat back in her chair and patted her stomach. She'd intended to share one of the pies with Carol and was surprised she ate an entire pie by herself.
"You're a fantastic cook. How did you manage to stay single?"
Carol picked up their plates. "Good question. Would you like coffee or tea?" she asked.
"Whatever you're having."
Carol laughed. "I let the man who wanted me get away."
"I remember you said your fiancé was killed in Vietnam."
Carol placed a cup of coffee on the table for her and Emma. "Your father tried to help me forget him, but I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for a long time. When I was ready, he'd moved on."
Emma savored a bite of peanut butter cookie. "Life is so frustrating. I never meet anyone. Then right before I was leaving for Montana, I met someone I can't stop thinking about. The worst part is I didn't have time to get to know him."
"You know, when I was growing up, I thought falling in love was Cinderella meeting the prince or Snow White opening her eyes after the kiss. Life isn't like that. Real love takes time to grow. Is Eric rushing you?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. But I feel rushed because he's here and I'm hundreds of miles away."
"Would you move to Buffalo Jump to live if you'd never met Eric?"
"I love it here, really. And I think practicing law here would be totally different than in Denver. But I'm not sure this is who I am."
"What if you knew Eric was interested in someone else? Would you take a chance on losing him?"
"Is he?"
"I don't know. It's a hypothetical question. Maybe he seems too available. Have you talked about what he sees for his future?"
"No. We haven't really talked at all. There's never time. I don't want to be the one to bring it up."
"Are you seeing him tonight?"
"Um-huh. He's fixing dinner for us."
"Well, there's no harm in telling him you're thinking about a move. You'd like to know if he's happy here or looking for other opportunities. Think of him as a friend whose opinion you value. It doesn't need to come off as a proposal." Carol laughed.
"Thanks, Carole. That didn't occur to me."
Carole and Emma walked to the inn and sat in front of the fireplace with Phyllis while drinking hot buttered rum and laughing. They remembered their most embarrassing moments, worst blind dates, and biggest disappointments. Then Carole drove Emma home so she could get ready for her date with Eric. Emma opened her door and started to get out.
"This has been great. You and Phyllis don't plan to leave here do you?" Emma asked.
"No, dear. I'm afraid we're here to stay. Are you sure you want to risk it?" Carole laughed.
"I can't imagine Buffalo Jump being any fun without you two," Emma said. She closed her door and waved at Carole as she drove away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
When Emma opened her door for Eric, she felt as if she'd seen him for the first time. He was wearing a brown bomber jacket and ear muffs. His cheeks were slightly red, and his eyes were a deeper blue from the stinging cold.
"Are you going to let me come in?" He laughed.
"I'm sorry. You look great in that jacket," Emma said.
"I thought we'd walk to my apartment. It's not bad out at all. I'll drive you home later." Eric said.
Emma picked up her coat from the back of the living room chair, and Eric helped her with it. When her arms were behind her, Emma was reminded of the nightmare from the night before.
"I'm not going to any more Halloween parties. I had a very vivid, frightening nightmare last night. You were in it, too," she said.
"You shouldn't slam the cook before you eat." Eric laughed.
Emma pulled on her knee-length leather boots and wrapped a scarf around her neck before she pulled on a multicolored hat contoured over her ears. She tied it at her chin and wiggled her fingers into the matching lavender gloves as she walked onto the porch.
"We're not joining the Iditarod, you know," Eric said.
"I hate being cold. You don't want to be around me when I'm cold. I'm a grouch."
"That's what you've got me for, you know." Eric wrapped his arms around her, pretending to warm her. "The hat looks good. You always look good. I'm glad you're here."
Emma was surprised Eric was so demonstrative. It was broad daylight with ice crystals hanging in the air and Sunday afternoon. Why did she have these warm Saturday-night feelings?
"I shouldn't eat again at all. Carole invited me for lunch and made these amazing chicken pot pies. I ate one by myself and washed it down with peanut butter cookies."
"I’m doing scampi. Not filling at all. And huckleberry gelato for dessert."
"Do you cook a lot?" Emma asked.
"Hardly ever. My schedule doesn't give me much time. I don't enjoy cooking when I end my shift. I'm usually too hungry and wind up doing a quick salad and hamburger steak. How about you?"
"I don't eat a lot of red meat, but I know what you mean about not taking time to cook. I eat lunch out a lot, business lunches, so I don't eat more than a salad or cereal at night."
"Do you work out?"
"A couple times a week. Is there a gym around here?" Emma asked.
"Not in Buffalo Jump. I don't think the residents would support one. More young people live here now than when I came, though. For the most part, the population is older. They worked hard all their lives farming and ranching, or doing manual labor outdoors. They didn't need a gym to keep the weight off. I go to a gym in Great Falls. Most of the members are younger. Nothing beats walking, though. The air is always great here. Unless it's forest fire season," he said.
Emma breathed deeply. "The air is nice. I tried walking during my lunch hour sometimes. It can be smoggy, so I'm not sure I'm doing myself any good. Don't you have sidewalks here?"
"Great Falls has sidewalks. Buffalo Jump is mostly gravel with sidewalks in the area around Main Street. The well-to-do residents lived there when the town was developing. They could afford sidewalks for their homes. They were a good investment for the business district. Residents who came after didn't want to be assessed for sidewalks, so what you see is what you get."
Eric waved to an older woman who was sweeping snow from her steps and walkway. Emma noticed football was on the TV in the living room of the house. "Do you enjoy sports?" she asked.
"Watching or playing?"
"Either…both." Emma said.
"Neither."
Emma laughed. "Isn't it hard to be a man and not like sports?"
"It's not that I don't like them. I remember my dad talking about some of the great ball players. I think people make too much of sports now. I guess everybody needs a hero. But I remember seeing a report on the national news recently. These parents were worried about their kids bashing heads during a football game. The kids were little tykes. I guess it was pee wee football or something. What are people thinking? You know what happened to the local kid."
"Um-huh. Have you heard how his parents are doing?"
"The receptionist at the department went to school with Lisa Alexander. She says they might adopt a kid from China or some third-world country. Rick's been pretty vocal about keeping the program well-funded so the kids get the gear they need."
"Athletics always gets funded while other programs, like speech and debate, get cut. It makes no sense, really. How many of these kids will play pro ball? There are other ways to teach kids to be part of a team. All
of them need to learn how to communicate."
"Here we are," Eric said. He led the way down the sidewalk to the front door. "Notice, I do have a sidewalk here." He laughed.
Emma walked inside and removed her gloves, hat, and coat before sitting on the sofa to remove her boots. Eric hung her coat on a coat tree in the corner, wrapped her scarf around it, and stuffed her hat and gloves into the pockets.
"Would you like a glass of wine? I have a smooth Chablis with a lot of personality, or a fruity red with some attitude." He was grinning.
"How about a smooth red with a lot of personality?"
"Sorry. It wasn't on sale at the Merc."
"I'll try the Chablis, then. Make it a small glass, though."
Eric disappeared into the kitchen. Emma looked around his living room. The room was small with white paint on the walls and ceiling and a surprisingly thick sage green carpet on the floor. An overstuffed leather sofa and recliner in matching brown were opposite a flat-screen TV sitting on a pedestal. One large window allowed the afternoon sun inside. There were two colorful paintings on the wall. Emma stood up and walked over to one of them to see the name of the artist and was surprised to read EKnudsen. Eric's name was at the top of a logo in the form of a gate made of logs like the ones she saw at the entrances to various ranches in Colorado and Montana.
Emma was standing in front of the other painting when Eric handed her the wine glass.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"You didn't tell me you're an artist. I like your logo. It's original. The painting's very good. Very unusual."
"Charlie Russell used a buffalo skull with his initials. I wanted to do something similar."
"The scenes are authentic but sort of whimsical," she said.
"I like the old west in Russell's works, but I wanted to do some contemporary humor, too. So I combined the two. Are you familiar with Monte Dolack?"
Emma shook her head.
"Come into the kitchen. I'll show you one of his posters."