The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  Emma followed Eric into the kitchen and heard the shrimp scampi sizzling on the stove at the same time she smelled garlic. Eric had hung the Dolack poster, Kitchen Preserve, on a short wall that formed a nook. The scene is a kitchen, probably from the 1950's, that is overrun with colorful ducks. A mallard perches on the sill of an open window surveying the havoc. A blue-billed duck roosts on a stack of plates in a cupboard. A wood duck floats in one side of a divided sink overflowing with water. Chicks perch on the sides of an open drawer. In the foreground, a hen poses near two white eggs she recently laid on a pot holder.

  "I love it!" Emma said. "It's so real. The detail is amazing. So fun. What an imagination."

  "He grew up in Great Falls. He's got an international reputation. I guess you could say he's my idea of a rock star. I don't want to copy him, but I'm going for something similar in my work. I combine the types of scenes in a Charlie Russell, who was also a Great Falls artist, and those in the Dolack works. Reality becomes fantasy and vice versa."

  "Sounds pretty deep. So this is what you do in your spare time?" Emma asked.

  "This and I'm drawing cartoons. I'll show you after we eat." Eric turned off the burner on the stove. "The scampi's ready."

  A small table in front of the only window in the kitchen was set with red mats, silverware, and large white napkins. Eric filled the white plates with rice and the scampi and spooned sautéed carrots, celery, zucchini, and broccoli into small white bowls. He set the plates and bowls on the table.

  Emma unfolded a napkin and placed it on her lap. "This looks delicious. I like the placemats. Do I smell bread baking?"

  "I forgot the rolls." Eric jumped up from the table, opened the oven, and produced fresh, warm potato rolls. "I got these at the bakery near your father's office. I don't eat bread a lot, but these are pretty good."

  "This is great," Emma said. She was still getting used to the idea of Eric as an artist, and now he was a good cook, too. She wondered what other surprises he was keeping secret. Then she wondered if Jack could cook. Would a man like Jack have a hobby? He probably wouldn't paint, but she could see him playing a sexy saxophone.

  It was dark except for one street light at the corner and very still except for the sound of crunching snow as Eric and Emma walked to her front door. Eric waited for her to turn the key in the lock. He was standing close behind her, and she bumped against him when she turned around to say good night. Even in the cold night air, she caught the scent of his aftershave combined with the crisp scent of the leather bomber jacket. For a moment, she felt like the heroine in a historical novel about World War II. She finished reading the eBook on the flight from Denver. The girl in the novel was torn between two men from different countries. They were mired in war, and she could not resolve her conflicted emotions until the war ended. Emma identified with the girl in the story, but she would have preferred a happy ending.

  "Thanks for dinner. I enjoyed seeing your paintings," Emma said.

  "Are we still on for tomorrow?" Eric asked.

  "Oh, right. I forgot the fundraiser. My flight doesn't leave until late afternoon."

  "I'll pick you up at ten sharp. Dress warm. But you might want to do layers. You can spend some time inside at the silent auction," Eric said.

  "It sounds like fun. You're a good sport to do this on your day off."

  "It goes with the territory. Goodnight, Emma."

  Eric bent slightly, wrapped his arms around Emma, and kissed her.

  Emma had wanted to ask Eric whether he would stay in Buffalo Jump, but she'd not found an opportunity. They were saying goodnight again. She could not ask him now.

  "I keep meaning to tell you that I've enjoyed Buffalo Jump more since you came here last summer. When I went to Phyllis' cabin to take her statement and met you, I was considering a job in Billings. I've been putting off a decision, but I need to be making it soon. I don't want to rush you, Emma, but I hope you'll think about coming back to stay."

  The air seemed colder than when they'd kissed a few seconds before. Why do important moments always come at such times? Emma wanted to tell Eric she'd go home and start making plans to leave Denver. She could not get the words out.

  "It's cold, Eric. Will you come in so we can talk?"

  "I've got to go. Think about it. We'll have some time tomorrow," Eric said. Then he kissed her forehead and turned to leave.

  After Eric drove away, Emma took off her coat and boots, found a warm sweater and her slippers, and made a cup of hot cocoa. She turned on the TV and sat in Harold's chair in the library under an afghan. Then she scrolled up and down the program guide looking for anything to distract her from her dilemma. She did not want to think about leaving Denver tonight.

  When Emma opened her eyes, she realized she fell asleep in Harold's chair. She was interested in the Breaking News report on CNN. An American embassy in some foreign country was attacked. Emma was sure the man standing behind the ambassador was Jack Hennessey. The reception was poor. Then the reporter cut away to the CNN anchor. Jack Hennessey told her he was involved in international development and said it was too dull to talk about. While she imagined he probably did meet with the ambassadors of various countries, she could not understand why he would have been with this ambassador in the middle of the night under such dire conditions. He seemed to be all right, so she gave up thinking about it and shut off the TV.

  While she brushed her teeth, Emma remembered the first time she saw Jack Hennessey. She wondered if he was really with the CIA. Possibly, his resemblance to Sean Connery planted the seed in her mind. If he was an agent, it would explain why he couldn't tell her the truth about his occupation. She wondered if he would be away from home most of the time and in danger. At least Eric did not travel as a deputy sheriff. Buffalo Jump was not a dangerous place. Emma didn't know if the man on the TV was Jack. She was too tired to think about it anyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The last Monday in October was declared a local holiday in 1948 to celebrate the founding of Buffalo Jump. Fundraising events on the holiday were a more recent tradition. This year, the event was held for the benefit of Jacob Abbot. The eight year old was struck by a car while riding his bicycle. His mother worked as a waitress in Great Falls until recently. His father left Montana to look for work and disappeared. Jacob's bills were still arriving at the Abbot home. The Montana Mountain Lions' haunted house the previous Friday raised about $100. The event did not help much financially, but it was a boost to the family's morale. Marci Abbot hoped there would be a better turnout to dunk the deputies and firemen who volunteered.

  The temperature was a balmy fifty degrees as Erik Knudsen sat on the platform of the dunk tank. The line had formed in front of the ticket booth and was growing steadily. Participants paid five dollars for three chances to dunk the deputy or fireman of their choice. Eric Knudsen had been dunked a dozen times, which made him eligible to dry off and dress. Instead, he stayed outside and laughed through six more plunges into the pool. The crowd cheered as Eric grabbed his towel and headed for the warming hut to dress.

  Emma had browsed the silent auction and then paid for a chance to guess how many buffalo nickels were in a jar of change. She remembered researching and writing a report about the Denver Mint when she was in high school. The buffalo nickel was not popular and was discontinued in 1938 after the initial twenty-five year period specified by Congress. Emma guessed there were no buffalo nickels in the pickle jar. She paid five dollars for one chance and won a $50 gift certificate for a department store in Great Falls. She gave the certificate to Marci Abbot.

  When Eric walked into the hall attached to the fire department, Emma waved at him. She was with Marci, who was her age. They'd been comparing notes about high school. Before Marci left Emma and Eric to talk to other participants in the silent auction, Marci thanked Emma for the gift certificate and said she hoped Emma would decide to move to Buffalo Jump.

  "See, I'm not the only one who wants you here," Eric said.
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br />   "Weren't you freezing out there?" Emma asked.

  "It was cold at first. Then I kind of got caught up in the whole thing and forgot about it," Eric said.

  Eric warmed up with coffee and cookies while he visited with people he knew at the auction. Then he and Emma headed to the airport.

  Eric did not take Emma directly to the terminal. Instead, he stopped by the hangar where Last Chance Charters was located. The owner had been teaching Eric how to fly one of the private planes. He showed Emma the plane and told her he would be a licensed pilot before too much longer.

  "You'll be able to fly to Denver to visit," Emma said.

  "Does that mean you're planning to stay there?" Eric asked.

  They left the hangar and walked to Eric's car.

  "Eric, I'm glad you asked if I would move to Montana last night. I wanted to bring it up and didn't know how. I'm very flattered to think you would postpone a big decision about your career until you knew what I'm planning. I wish I could tell you I'm going back to Denver to pack up and move here right away. I'm not the type of person who rushes into things. What if I move to Buffalo Jump and then you lose your job and need to move to Billings? I'll be here and you'll be the one who's miles away. We need to get to know each other, and it's going to take time with the distance between us."

  "I don't want to pry, but I'd like to know if you're trying to decide between me and some other guy." Eric said.

  "Eric, I haven't been with anyone as much as you." Emma knew she'd not answered Eric's question, but she could not tell him about Jack. "In spite of the times we've been together, we still know very little about each other. I can't feel responsible for your career decisions. I think you need to make the choice you'd make if you'd never met me. Where we live shouldn't be as important as if we're meant to live together anywhere."

  Emma and Eric walked to the terminal without talking. He brushed her hand with his once, but he did not hold hands with her. She sensed that even though they were still within sight of each other, there was distance between them. Eric was already erecting a protective wall around himself. When Emma headed for the security area, Eric kept his hands in his pockets and did not kiss her.

  "I hope you have a good flight, Emma. We'll keep in touch," he said. Then he turned and left. Emma watched him walk away until she needed to select a bin for her handbag and shoes. Then she concentrated on boarding her flight.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Emma voted on November 6 and hoped the country would be able to set aside the rancor of the past few months and begin to grow stronger. It seemed the campaigning started after the previous election. She was weary of the tiresome and negative commentary and voted for men and women of both parties in the election. She believed good men and women would change the country for the better.

  The law office closed on the Monday following Veterans Day to honor the employees who were veterans or whose family members were veterans. Emma used the long weekend to draft a separation agreement in a particularly complicated case. She had just begun the section on child support when she heard someone knocking on the door of the outer office. She was irritated that anyone would knock when there was a sign in the window: Closed for Holiday. She walked down the hallway and exited through a door that opened to a landing above the stairs. The elevator was to her right. The restrooms were straight ahead. She would pretend to be on her way to the restroom so she could see who was at the office door.

  Emma entered the lobby and was shocked to see Jack Hennessey at the door.

  "I thought you might be working today. When I dialed you, I was sent to that dreadful electronic mailbox. I don't like leaving messages. One never knows if they were received." Jack's expression softened. "You're as lovely as I remember."

  "You have a good memory. It's been a while. Busy traveling, I suppose."

  "Could we get a bite to eat? I enjoyed the grill around the corner," Jack said.

  "I noticed they'd be closed for the holiday. There's an internet café down the street. It's always open."

  "I have a better idea. Let's walk to my hotel. There's a quiet little café on the ground floor. I need to talk to you."

  "Why aren't you staying at your mother's place?"

  "I gave it to a realtor. I thought I told you. Are you free to leave for a while?"

  Emma shut down her computer, grabbed her handbag, and was buttoning her coat when she returned to the lobby. They took the elevator to the first floor and walked to the Denver Hilton. Jack suggested they sit near a window in the Pi Kitchen/Bar. It was ultra-modern. The chairs were straight-backed and uncomfortable. The light fixtures did nothing to warm the room. They were geometric angles suspended by a rod. Sitting by the cold wall of glass, Emma felt chilled even though she had not removed her coat. She rubbed her arms with gloved hands and watched people walking past the hotel. A young woman handed them menus and left.

  "So tell me, how've you been, Emma?"

  "The usual. Work keeps me busy."

  "And did you enjoy your trip to Montana?"

  "I did. It was very relaxing. I spent time with old friends."

  "Have you thought about Christmas in New York?" Jack asked.

  "You know, I haven't." Emma was unprepared to see Jack. She wanted to avoid being unpleasant. "Frankly, I put it out of my mind. I didn't hear from you in the last couple of weeks."

  "And I apologize, Emma. You know how it is when you travel. I was about to call you more than once, but with the difference in time, you'd be sleeping. I'm sorry you felt I neglected you."

  "No, it wasn't that I felt neglected. I thought your plans might have changed."

  "I wouldn't dare change them. My granddaughter would never forgive her Papa if he missed Christmas."

  "You know, I'm wondering if it's such a good idea to meet your daughter and granddaughter at the holidays. It's a family time, and there's a lot of emotional baggage that goes with it. It might be better if we meet another time."

  "Are you sure it's not something else? You seem different." Jack said.

  "Right. Exactly. I am different. And you're different. We don't even know each other. We shouldn't involve your family until we do know each other. You can't introduce strange women to your granddaughter and expect her to understand."

  "And what makes you think I have these other women?" Jack asked.

  "You told me you were going to a conference in London the last time we were together, but then you mentioned you were on your way to Paris. I saw you on CNN with some ambassador in the middle of the night. I don't think I'm cut out to be part of your double life, Jack. There. That's what it is."

  Jack smiled. Emma tried not to look at him. He was impossibly handsome when he smiled.

  "You're in love with someone else, aren't you." Jack said.

  "No. Yes. I don't know."

  "I thought so. It's all right, Emma. I've been around a while. This isn't the first time I've been rejected for a younger man."

  "It's not that. Really. I haven't once considered your age. Well, maybe once. But the truth is, if I'm going to belong to someone, I want him to be around. I don't want to think he's one place and see him someplace else. If I'm going to be alone and lonely, I might as well stay the way I am."

  "Very well put. I've heard it before, but never with that kind of clarity."

  "Well, that's what I do for a living."

  Jack smiled. "I have no idea how your scrimshaw set found its way into mother's luggage, but I'm glad it did. I hope you and your young man are very happy."

  "Thank you, Jack. I'm glad we met, too. I should get back to my separation agreement," Emma said.

  "Of course you should," Jack said. He stood up and took Emma's hand. She was relieved when he did not kiss it. Instead, he gave Emma a firm handshake as if they'd closed an important deal. "Contrary to what you believe, Emma, I'll never forget you," he said.

  Emma was not in any mood to work on the separation agreement. She was too emotional about her own life to be rational about
anyone else's. She walked through the lower level of the parking garage, feeling as if a heavy weight was removed from her. She'd been too busy to name the cause of her anger over the preceding two weeks. She was as surprised as Jack was when her frustration boiled over. Emma was not angry with Jack but with herself. She used Jack as an excuse to avoid a commitment to Eric. She treated him the way Jack was treating her. If he happened to be in Denver and she was available, they'd enjoy a superficial good time with no strings attached. For the first time in her life, Emma found someone who wanted her exclusively. She hoped it was not too late. Although she was tempted many times in the two weeks since she left Buffalo Jump, Emma had not called Eric. He had not called her. She sat in the darkness of the parking garage, found Eric in her contacts, and waited. The phone rang three times.

  "Hell-o."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number," Emma said.

  "Do you want Eric?" A woman asked.

  "Yes. Is he there?"

  "He's painting right now. Can I have him call you?"

  "Marci?"

  "Yes."

  "It's Emma. I thought I recognized your voice."

  "Hi, Emma. How've you been?"

  "Very well. Thank you. And you?"

  "We're doing so much better. Eric's been an angel. I'll let him tell you about it."

  "Okay. Bye, Marci."

  Emma sat in the dark. She wondered if Eric knew Marci Abbot before the fundraiser for her son. He must have started seeing Marci right after Emma left. How could he care for her and start a relationship with Marci so soon? She tossed Jack aside for Eric, and Eric found someone else. She was startled when someone tapped on her window.

  A security officer smiled at her. "You okay, Miss?"

  "Yes. I'm about to leave." Emma said.

  Emma pulled out of the garage and into the bright sunlight. The Veterans Day parade took place the previous Saturday, so traffic was light. Emma drove the familiar route to her apartment still feeling stunned. She parked in her designated spot and headed toward her apartment. Once inside and alone, Emma stood with her back to the door and surveyed the room.