She swallowed, her mouth dry. The meds she got before heading for home gave her cotton mouth and nausea. Nothing was good when she left the hospital, except for leaving the hospital.
Another step and the horizon tilted and swerved. Emma crashed to the ground, her hands outstretched but unable to catch her weight. Her cheek connected with the rocky dirt and she cried out.
In seconds, Nate’s strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her from the ground. He carried her to the chairs and set her on the one nearest to the door. He steadied her. “Are you okay?” Wiping at her cheek with a handkerchief that magically seemed to appear in his hand, Nate furrowed his brow. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
Emma closed her eyes. The world wouldn’t stop swaying and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her original dizziness or because of Nate’s nearness. She tried not moving her lips too much. “I’m sick.”
Nate disappeared from in front of her, and Emma peeked from slightly parted lids to see if he’d run because she’d said she was sick. He wouldn’t be the first person to balk at the possibility of catching whatever she had.
Her disease wasn’t contagious.
Water trickled from the spigot off the side of the house and then stopped. Nate returned to crouch in front of her, the handkerchief in his hands cool and damp as he patted it to her forehead and down her neck. “What are you sick with?”
Emma opened her eyes all the way, studying him. “You’re not afraid of getting it?” She tucked her chin, embarrassed she even had to ask.
Chuckling, Nate shook his head, dropping his hand. “Why? Is it going to kill me?”
She didn’t laugh, just watched him solemnly. “Anytime I tell people I’m sick, they back away and don’t want anything to do with me. Like I have chickenpox... Why aren’t you?”
He didn’t move away, instead he lifted his right shoulder in a small shrug and watched her. “You don’t have chickenpox. You don’t even seem to have a fever.”
Emma couldn’t drag her gaze away from him. How did he know she didn’t have a fever? He said all the right things and his gentle touch was enough to break her resolve to keep him at arm’s length. She wanted to spend time with him, she wasn’t looking for anything permanent. She spoke softly. “No. I don’t have chickenpox.”
“What do you have?” Nate cocked his head to the side, curiosity bright in his eyes, but dulled on the edges with concern. His blue eyes haunted her regretful dreams since high school.
She didn’t want to answer. She never said out loud what she had. Even her parents tried not talking about it with any directness. As if they could ignore it away or cure it by pretending the illness didn’t exist other than as an annoyance.
The only people who spoke about her disease in front of Emma were the doctors and nurses and even they used polite words and terms that wouldn’t seem “scary.”
None of that mattered, though.
Cancer was scary all by itself.
Lips cracked, Emma frowned at Nate. She was so tired that she had to deal with her sickness in front of him. She was too tired to even deal with shame or embarrassment.
Nate’s expression didn’t change, but he backed off and moved to the other chair. He slid it closer, probably in case she catapulted off the chair and slammed face first into the ground again. The guy was a true gentleman. He always had been.
A long moment passed. Nate crossed his ankle over his knee, leaning back in the slatted chair. “You said we could be friends, right?” He didn’t watch Emma, but perused the trees on the side of the driveway clearing. The toe of his boot jiggled over his knee, like a nervous tic that didn’t have a specific rhythm.
Suspicious, Emma didn’t move her gaze from his face. What was he getting at? Did he need something? She didn’t have anything and wasn’t capable of doing much for him. She spoke hesitantly. “Yes, I did.” She’d meant it. She wanted to be friends with him. Wanted him in her life.
She needed a friend. Badly.
One that smelled sagey and woodsy like Nate would be her first choice.
“I can see you don’t feel well, but you’re not telling me anything. You’re saying you’re sick, but all I’ve got figured out is that it’s not chickenpox. Friends talk, Emma.” He watched her, but didn’t stare. It wasn’t a creepy way to watch someone. Unsettling, yes. Creepy, no.
Fighting the urge to talk to him was futile. She needed someone to talk to. Nate was pressing to be her friend. She hadn’t had a friend in so long – nurses didn’t count.
Drake was gone and he’d taken her last tool against being completely lonely.
She looked away from him, focusing on the granules of dirt at her feet. “I’ve been at the hospital again all week. That’s why I haven’t come by your place. I think the stress of Drake leaving…” She blinked back tears. For the first time in years, she’d been in the hospital without her brother being there beside her.
“Again? Are you okay?” His concern drew her focus and she snapped out of her daze.
“No.” She sobbed the word, tightening her lips shut and shaking her head enough to bring on a barrage of nausea.
I’m not okay, she wanted to scream. The waves of dizziness subsided and she spoke through barely parted lips. “As long as I can remember, I’ve been sick. In and out of hospitals and clinics. Tests. Scans.” She sighed. She wasn’t even that old – twenty-one. Twenty-one and she’d been to the hospital more than that in one year.
“What are you sick with?” His soft words caressed her anxiety.
She calmed down, able to bite down her crying. “I have childhood osteosarcoma which… well, to put it plainly is like cancer of the bones.” She said it. Could she grab back her words? Her admission cost a chunk of pride, brought forth a wave of shame. Being poor didn’t matter like her sickness did. “I get better, but it always comes back.”
She didn’t want to look up and find pity in his eyes or sympathy softening his features. His silence tugged at her and she finally did. But he didn’t have any pity on his face. He’d leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He watched her like he needed to hear more but wasn’t going to push.
The words tumbled out, like they’d waited so long to be heard. “The doctors found a tumor on my lower leg when I was super young, about five, I think. Treatments started and they always thought I had it beat but then…” She looked away, toward the trees that grew as consistently as her tumors. “Well, I didn’t have anything beat. It just keeps coming and coming. I had a three year break in high school.”
She left her feelings about then out of it.
Or tried.
That had been the sweetest few years of her life. She’d met Nate during that time and so much… but then… “It came back.” She didn’t have anything else to say. It came back and that was enough for her. Disappointment riddled her soul. At least her cancer was consistent?
“Dang, that sucks. I mean there isn’t another word I can think of that…” He shook his head, folding his hands between his knees. “So why did Drake leave?”
Drake. Emma twisted her lips to the side. “You bring up all the sad topics, don’t you?” She laughed dryly, grateful for the turn in topics from herself and the cancer. “He pushed Mom and Dad too far. He’s staying with our uncle in Wyoming.” She blinked and looked up at the sky.
Nate’s turn. She didn’t want to broach the topic to be mean. She never had a chance to actually tell him what was in her heart. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Now who’s bringing up the sad stuff?” His chuckle took her off guard and she faced him. He shook his head but didn’t look away from her. “They died two years ago. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”
Emma studied him, reading more than he said in the slight roll of his shoulders and the tangible tightening around his eyes. “Yes, it does.” She reached out a hand, slow but steady, and placed her fingers on his forearm. “Are you doing okay? That has to be hard.”
He watched h
er hand as she withdrew and slowly shook his head. “Honestly? No, I’m not.” Nate removed his hat and ran his fingers through thick, dark hair. “I’m trying to raise my sisters and have no idea what I’m doing.” He hmphed a small laugh at himself. “I’m supposed to continue the crops that my dad started, but the ones I planted are all damaged from the rain last month.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
The spring had been unseasonably wet and many ranches in the area were mildly flooded. Many people dealt with cattle and horses. Few worked to grow crops because of the irrational seasons.
“I know how to raise beef and ‘stangs, but…” He resettled his hat, tilting the brim lower over his face, like he wanted to hide his emotions from the clouds.
“But what?” Emma refused to let him off that easily. He started the inquisition. She was going to finish it.
His cheeks flushed a deep ruddy red. “I don’t have the money to buy new stock or pay for feed or… I don’t have money for anything.”
“Yeah, I understand that.” Emma understood being poor better than most people did. Taylor Falls wasn’t a rich town, but most of the kids had shoes that fit. Emma had the same shoes she’d owned since she was a freshman. Her sandals had duct tape on the bottoms to keep them together.
Nate cleared his throat. “Yeah, I heard about your dad’s job.”
“He lost it because of me. Hospital visits and stuff kept him away from work more than they liked.” She wasn’t as embarrassed talking with Nate anymore. He’d morphed from being some attractive magical creature to this real man with real problems that she could talk to.
A man she was still severely attracted to. Except now, he was more reality than a memory of a strong crush. Tempered by her age and loneliness, Nate was a lot harder to push into the friend slot she needed him in.
He turned to her more fully, taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry he lost his job. It wasn’t your fault though. You didn’t choose to be sick, just like I didn’t choose for my parents to die in that car accident.” Warmth coursed through her at his touch.
She’d never thought of her situation as one she hadn’t chosen before. How could she not understand that she hadn’t chosen to be sick? She hadn’t wanted that. Didn’t want to be poked and prodded. Didn’t want to ache and hurt from all the procedures. Certainly didn’t want to throw up because of the medications they made her take. She even had scars from experimental radiation burns on her legs.
All too often she found herself feeling guilty because of what had happened to her parents and Drake because of her sickness. She never considered she wasn’t to blame. “Thank you.” She whispered, and didn’t release his hand.
She stared at her fingers intertwined with his. His touch still sizzled, arcing along her skin like electricity from a high-voltage fence meeting wet flesh.
Would it be such a big deal if she dated him? Pursued more than friendship? They’d dated before.
Nate was her first kiss.
Emma’s gaze darted to his lips, and not for the first time did she wonder if his lips were still soft and firm and demanding so much all at once. Could he still make her insides quake with a kiss?
He raised his blue eyes to meet hers.
Emma’s breathing quickened. Before she did something she would regret later, she murmured, “We can only be friends, Nate.”
Crushed, he squeezed her fingers softly. “We could finish what we started in high school.” Hope lit his eyes and he applied soft pressure to her hand.
“Let’s try being friends this time, Nate.” She extracted her fingers from his grasp and leaned back, putting distance she didn’t want between them.
“Can you at least tell me why you left then? I never heard from you again.” He brought it up. Her biggest regret.
Emma bit her lip and then set her jaw. He deserved to know. Might as well get everything out of the way. “I went back to the hospital and they found another tumor on my upper thigh. I almost died from complications so they sent me to a different hospital in California. I was down there for months. When I got back… well, I didn’t even graduate.” She’d been embarrassed, lost. Who would want to be with a girl who was so pathetic? She could barely stand to be around herself.
“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t leave again like that, you tell me what’s going on, and I won’t push you for more than friendship. Sound good?” He smiled. “I need a friend, too, but I don’t want to invest in this, if you’re going to abandon me again when things get rough.”
“I’m lonely, too.” Emma nodded, relieved but a little let down that he was willing to give up on more so easily. “I won’t leave. Do you think we can do that? Just be friends?” What would she do if he said no? She didn’t really believe she could be just friends, unless he did. If he could, then she would be stronger in her decision.
“I think so. Unless you think I’m too attractive for you to keep your hands off of. That might be a problem.” He winked, his laugh contagious.
Emma welcomed his teasing. It’d been forever since someone besides Drake joked with her. “Well, if the cravings get out of control, I’ll let you know.” How much was teasing and how much did she really mean?
“You do that, Emma.” He leaned back in the chair and grinned.
Chapter 5
Nate
Coffee would only stunt Nate’s buzz at finally having Emma back in his life. He didn’t need caffeine to pull him from bed and through his normal morning routine. Even the glower on Stefanie’s face didn’t dim his chipper attitude.
He rounded the corner of his dad’s well-polished mahogany desk. “What has you so grumpy?” Even after two years, his dad’s cologne hung around the office. If Nate moved to the side, it wafted around him. Stefanie could be catching the memories on the air, too.
She crossed her arms and glared at Nate. “What has you so happy?”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t know.” But he did. Emma. Things were different with her in the back of his mind, like a constant star in the sky.
Leaning forward, Stefanie tapped a cascading pile of unopened envelopes in various sizes on the desk. Many on the top had red ink stamped across the fronts with “final notice” in large font. “What the hell are these?”
“Stefanie, you don’t need to talk to me like that. Watch your mouth.” Nate shifted to settle on the corner of the desk. The tomboy in Stefanie often rode out the lady lurking under all her gruffness.
“Well, Nathan, you’re not my dad. I can essentially do whatever I want.” She fell silent, staring at the mail. “Seriously, Nate, what is all that?”
“Final notices. A lot of them are like electricity and stuff. I think a few are for taxes on Bella Acres. They haven’t shut off the electricity because I got an extension, but it’s only a matter of time.” He swung his leg, the topic more uncomfortable than he was ready to deal with. Plus, it was bringing down his excitement over Emma, dousing his fun with more responsibilities.
Stefanie threw her hands in the air. “Didn’t they have life insurance? What about their savings account?” She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s like they abandoned us.”
“What do you know about it?” Nate hadn’t broached the topic of money or anything with his sisters after their parents’ death. He didn’t want to add to their worries. He must not have done a very good job, if Stefanie was feeling the pressure.
Stefanie rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid. Mary Jane at school had to give a presentation on mortality rates in Montana and one of the statistics she threw out was that we don’t have enough life insurance. I researched it to see what it was.” She stared at the desk. “They didn’t have any?”
Nate shook his head, keeping his leg from swinging too hard. “None.”
“What about savings? I know Dad was working on building one. Where’d that go?” Her voice got smaller and smaller. “Where’d all the money go? I know he had money in their checking and savings. It’s like it’s all gone. What’d you spend it on?”
“That was two years ago, Stefanie. I paid for their cremation and did plots on our land to save money. But what they had barely covered us for a few months.” He picked up a wood-based pen and turned the glossy wood over and over in his hands. Amazing how he continued selling things around the house but he couldn’t bring himself to touch the items in the study.
“How have you been making money then?” She watched him, suddenly suspicious.
She should be. Nate hadn’t been called to task about what he’d been up to and he suddenly wished he’d been doing something illegal. He worked his mouth but for a moment nothing came out. Embarrassed, he forced the words. “I’ve been selling things around the place. Things we don’t need.”
Disbelief wiped the neutral expression from Stefanie’s face. Anger took the place of her confusion. Her lips tightened into a thin line. “What do you mean, selling things? Like what?”
How much did he tell her? He had to feed them. He had to keep things going. “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of things.”
Stefanie jumped to her feet and whirled around the chair to put distance between them. “No more. You can’t sell anything else. Are you going to sell Bella Acres?” Tears glistened in her eyes.
Nate jumped to his feet, hands out. “No, no. I’m not going to sell Bella Acres.”
“Why not? It sounds like you’re selling everything else, right? Is that where Mom’s quilts went?” She tightened her lips and lifted her chin, winning the fight against her tears.
Regret still pierced him when he thought of Mom’s quilts. Unable to look Stefanie directly in the eye, he nodded to the side. “Yeah.” Those had been the hardest to part with, but the price he’d gotten for one handmade quilt had paid for their bills for a month and a half. Not to mention the food it’d brought in. Apparently Mom had been a very accomplished quilter. Her name had been all over Montana and people couldn’t wait to get their hands on one of her pieces.
Broken Trails Page 4