by Gray, Meg
Worried about the days ahead and how she was going to cope with all of her challenges this year Emma dropped her plate into the newly lined kitchen garbage.
Audrey had cleaned up all of the plates, but the counter was still lined with empty beer bottles giving the kitchen that pale-ale kind of smell. Emma gathered as many as she could and carried them to the garage.
The garage, just like every other room in Audrey and Finn’s house, was exceptionally well organized. Finn’s custom workbench and tools were in the third bay behind his black utility trailer with his signature green shamrock and McCormack Construction painted on the side. The same logo was on his black pickup truck, residing in the middle bay. Right in front of the truck, she found the red recycling box. It was already half full with three wine bottles, an empty bottle of vodka, tequila and a pickle jar. She gently added her load to the collection.
Emma brought one more armload of bottles out to the garage before she returned to the kitchen and ran a sink full of warm soapy water. She dipped a rag into the suds and started wiping down the countertops.
“Auntie Em, Auntie Em,” a young voice shrieked behind her.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Emma asked, turning to see her niece.
“I have to go potty.” Chelsea bounced from one foot to the other with both of her hands tucked in her crotch. She looked like a curly haired leprechaun.
“Well, then, go. GO!” Emma prompted her and pointed in the direction of the powder room. She chased after the little girl to help her climb onto the toilet. There was no way Chelsea would make it up the stairs to her retrofitted child-friendly bathroom. She needed to go NOW.
In the bathroom, Chelsea hopped from foot to foot and struggled with the straps of her jumper. The poor girl couldn’t hold it anymore and a large puddle pooled around her little white sandals. Emma jumped back before the flood of urine reached her own shoes. Two steps away in the laundry room Emma grabbed a stack of old towels that Audrey kept in a cupboard. From the bathroom, she heard the wails of her niece as hot, stinging urine streamed down her bare legs. The poor child was paralyzed, afraid to stay where she was and afraid to move. Emma threw a towel on the floor and stepped on to it skating to her niece and sopping up the puddle before it reached the hardwood floor in the hall. She reached for the straps of the jumper and in one swift motion pulled it to the floor. She hoisted the sobbing girl onto the toilet. With another towel she wiped Chelsea’s legs and pulled her sandals off, using a soft reassuring voice to let her niece know everything would be okay.
Three towels later, the floor was mopped up. Emma carried the soiled towels and clothes to the washing machine, set the cycle, and pressed the start button. Next, she helped Chelsea off the toilet, wrapped her in a towel, held her over the sink to wash her hands and told her to stand in the hall and wait. She sprayed the toilet, floor and sink with disinfectant and wiped everything clean. Scooping up her niece, green eyes still brimming with tears, Emma carried her up the stairs to her pink princess bathroom and started the water in the bathtub.
“Let’s get you washed, okay, sweet girl?” Chelsea only nodded as Emma helped her climb into the tub. Emma knelt on the soft, plush pink bath mat and soaped Chelsea’s legs and arms before rinsing her off with cups full of warm water. Then, she sat back and watched the girl push her rubber ducks around the tub.
“I’m done,” Chelsea spontaneously announced and stood up, beads of water trailing to her feet. Emma pulled the plug and the water swirled around the drain, making a slurping noise as the final drops of bath water were sucked down. In Chelsea’s bedroom, a vibrant palette of four different shades of pink, Emma pulled a pair of pink pajamas from the dresser and was pleased when Chelsea didn’t protest. It was getting late and Emma was sure she heard car doors slamming outside. The party was breaking up.
“Could you read me a story?” Chelsea asked.
“Of course,” Emma said. “As soon as you brush your teeth.” She smiled and tapped her niece on the nose before following her back into the bathroom to brush her teeth and then back again to the bedroom. Chelsea laid a stack of seven books on the bed before she climbed up next to Emma. With only the bedside lamp on, Emma started with the first book. By the end of the second, Chelsea’s head had fallen on Emma’s arm and she was asleep. Moving stealthily, Emma slid Chelsea down onto her pillow, put the books on the shelf and switched off the lamp.
Someday, she thought wistfully gazing down at her sleeping niece, I’ll be tucking my own little ones in.
* * *
Emma made it home from Audrey’s with just enough time to change and repack the suitcase she’d been living out of while she camped in Seth’s bedroom. He promised to clean his junk out of the second bedroom tomorrow, so she could move in properly.
“How was your flight home?” Emma asked her elbow propped against the back of the couch. Her head rested in her hand.
“Same as always,” Seth said with a shrug. Emma tried to draw her eyes away from his finely sculpted biceps, hugged by the cuff of his sleeve. “How was your first week of school?”
“Don’t ask,” she replied, rolling her eyes and letting out a deep sigh.
“What? Are those five year olds too rough on you?” he teased, flashing his perfect smile that reached all the way up to his clear blue eyes. The man could melt hearts with a smile like that, just like Emma felt hers melting right now.
“No,” she said. “But I have twenty-eight in my class. Twenty-eight and it’s difficult to get around to all of them each day, even having them for a full day. I certainly have my hands full with this group. Especially this one little boy…” her thoughts trailed off as she thought about Brayden.
“What about the little guy?” Seth asked.
“He spends most of the day sitting in his coat locker. I can’t seem to figure out what to do to reach him. He’s a little disruptive to everyone else and there’s just something about him that I can’t quite figure out.”
“Relax,” he said as he patted her knee and then left his hand there to rest. She felt the heat of his touch on her skin. “It’s just your first week, you can’t have them all figured out yet.”
“I know, but I just want to help him. And then there’s his father.”
“Oh yeah, what about him?” Seth asked, pulling his hand back as he turned to face her.
“Well, I don’t know much, except that he’s some high-powered attorney downtown and both times he dropped his son off this week he was on his cell phone, looking annoyed and walked away without saying good bye.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very happy situation. Maybe the little guy doesn’t get much attention at home and he’s looking for it at school.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Emma replied. “But I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Maybe things will be better next week, but enough about me. How are things with you?”
“Things are pretty good.”
“How was California?”
“Good. Hot. Sunny,” Seth shrugged, a shy smile playing on his lips.
“And?” Emma waited.
“And what?” Seth turned to her.
“Not what, who?”
“Who, what?”
“Who did you meet down there?”
“Who says I met anyone?” Seth asked coyly.
“Stacy.” Stacy was a gossip queen and loved anything surrounding a romantic relationship. She was convinced Seth spent an extra weekend in California because of a special someone and didn’t waste a moment in sharing her thoughts with Emma.
“Oh. Well, yeah I did meet someone down there.”
“And does this person have a name?”
“Kelly.”
“Kelly, huh, and how did the two of you meet?” Emma asked playfully.
“At the gym. Kelly’s a personal trainer.”
“Uh huh,” Emma waited, but Seth didn’t continue. “You’re not going to tell me anymore are you?”
“Not unless you want to hear about the great s
ex we’ve been having?” His thin lips curled upward.
“Oh God, no,” Emma cried, throwing her hands over her ears. “Save that stuff for Stacy. Just tell me this,” Emma paused, knowing what she wanted to ask was none of her business, but also desperate to know. “Is it serious?”
“Not yet,” he replied with the smile of a lovesick puppy and confirmed Emma’s suspicion, Seth was falling in love and officially off the market.
He turned and smiled at her before pushing up from the couch. “Have you eaten?” he asked, throwing the question over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” she called after him. She leaned her head against the soft tan couch cushion, closed her eyes, and listened. Seth opened and closed the freezer door, tore into a box and punched the buttons on the microwave. Emma opened her eyes when Seth returned, carrying a fork in one hand and a plastic tray of food on a plate in the other.
“How can you eat that?” Emma asked, turning her nose up to the smell of the re-heated, mass-produced Salisbury steak and potatoes he was about to eat.
“It’s not that bad, if you don’t really think about what you’re eating. Besides, I’m hungry and take-out would take too long. Wanna watch something?” he asked and tossed the remote to her.
Emma flipped the TV on, even though she was content to sit and watch Seth. She settled on a movie, No Strings Attached. It started ten minutes ago, but they’d both seen it.
“Oooh Ashton,” Seth said in a husky falsetto. “He’s so dreamy.” He grinned at her before shoveling another bite of his dinner into his mouth.
When the movie was over Emma could hardly keep her eyes open. She yawned and said, “I’m going to bed. Do you mind if I borrow a pillow and blanket for the couch?”
“No,” he replied with his gorgeous smile. “But you probably will. This couch is too small and hard to sleep on. Go ahead and crash in my bed. I’m going to be up a little while longer and then I’ll be in.”
Emma stared at him. Was he suggesting the two of them share his bed? She was about to insist on taking the couch again when Seth laughed.
“Sorry Vanilla,” he said using the nickname, he and Stacy had given her in college. “I forgot what a good girl you are. Don’t worry I won’t try anything funny with you. Scouts honor.” He smiled and held up two fingers, giving his pledge.
It’s not you I’m worried about, Emma thought in her next breath, but she was too tired to argue and trudged down the hall. Sleep came to her almost immediately after her head hit the pillow and she never felt Seth climb into the bed next to her or slide out the next morning.
The smell of coffee and the sound of movement from across the hall awakened her. The front door creaked open and then closed. She dropped her feet to the floor, shuffled out of the room, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.
The room across the hall, her room, was almost empty. It looked much bigger than she imagined. She could see the full length of the built in armoire and drawers. Seth’s room had a full walk-in closet where he hung all of his suits, jackets, and shirts, grouped by color. She wished she had a closet like his too, but these built-ins would suffice. The cabinetry was painted white. She pulled on the handles and cracked the armoire door. The faint smell of cedar greeted her.
The cool morning breeze blew gently through the open window and softly touched her cheek. She crossed her arms over her chest in a hug when she heard Seth come back into the apartment. He walked through the door carrying a broom and dustpan.
“Hey sleepy head,” he said. He wore the same shorts and t-shirt from the night before.
Emma couldn’t help but smile as he dropped the dustpan and began to sweep the dust bunnies out of the corners.
“You should have woken me up,” she told him as she watched his hips rock back and forth from behind.
“Nah,” he replied, continuing with his task. “You were pretty out of it. This is all my junk anyway you shouldn’t have to move it.”
“But, it’s because of me that you are moving it,” she reminded him.
“You got that right.” He turned and flashed a smile. “I’ve got to get you into your own room, so I don’t have to listen to you snore all night long.”
“I snored?” Emma asked, covering her mouth with one hand. She was horrified.
“Just a little.” He smiled back at her.
“I’m sorry. I was so tired last night.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said and crouched down to scoop up the pile of dirt he’d created. He straightened holding the dustpan in one hand and the broom, tipped parallel to the floor with the other. She smiled at the sight of him looking sexy and domestic at the same time.
“Coffee?” he asked as he walked out of the room.
“That sounds great.” Emma said following him.
In the kitchen, Seth dumped the dustpan into the garbage under the sink and returned it along with the broom to the small closet. He poured Emma a cup of coffee and she noticed two purple crowns sitting on the table. The velvet caps were trimmed in white faux fur and gold bands crisscrossed over the top. Seth followed her gaze over his shoulder and smiled when he saw what she was looking at. He stepped over to the table and donned the larger of the two crowns.
“Aren’t these great?” he asked. “I found these in one of my old boxes. I think they’re left over from Mardi Gras a couple of years ago. What do you think?”
“I think purple is definitely your color,” she said and sipped from her cup.
“Thanks,” he said and reached for the other one. “This one’s for you.”
She arched her eyebrows at him, “It’s a little early for Halloween, don’t you think?”
Seth didn’t answer, but stepped right in front of her. He held the other crown in both hands and drew his shoulders back. “I, Seth Brown, the king of apartment 3B, dub thee, Emma, my queen to rule over this kingdom with power and grace.” He settled the crown atop her head and bowed regally.
Emma laughed and straightened her crown as it nearly slipped from her head.
“What is your highness’s first wish?” he asked theatrically, using a terrible sounding English nobleman’s voice.
For you to really want me as your queen, she thought, but “breakfast” is what came out.
“Very well,” he said, still using that voice. “Go get dressed and I’ll take you to get the best cinnamon rolls in all of Portland.”
She walked out of the kitchen and called back, “Okay, but I’ve got to shower first.”
“Well, hurry up.” Seth shouted, finally losing the theatrical tone. “I’m starving.”
Chapter Three
September soon gave way to October, bringing with it Portland’s infamous rainfall. Bright crimson leaves decorated the trees and before Emma knew it, she was penciling turkey and pilgrim activities into her lesson plans.
Emma walked to school through the morning’s mist-filled air on a brown leaf-stained sidewalk, wet from an overnight shower. She buried her hands deep in the pockets of her coat to ward of the November cold. The little black umbrella she picked up in the checkout line of the grocery store was tucked inside her bag awaiting the sky’s next cloudburst.
Despite the cavernous feel of the main hallway, the school was warm and sheltering when she stepped inside. Her wet shoes skittered across the front door rug and squeaked on the shiny tiles. Once in the classroom she dropped her bag and coat in the chair behind her desk.
Mary Ellen charged into the classroom, arms loaded with papers. “Earthquake drill today at nine-thirty, okay?” Emma tugged at the hem of her gray turtleneck sweater before accepting the stack of red papers Mary Ellen held out.
“Thanks.”
“Yes, so,” Mary Ellen continued without skipping a beat. “Debbie is going to run the drill at nine-thirty today. I told her that would be a good time so we can send the kids out to recess right after. You’ll need to talk to them about it first, of course. Here are some notes I made for you. This is what
I tell my class.” Mary Ellen pulled a folded paper from the pocket of her denim apron, and handed it to Emma. Mary Ellen tilted her soft white-haired head to the side and smiled as if she’d done Emma a grand favor.
“Of course,” Emma smiled back and pinched her lips together to keep from reminding Mary Ellen that she was aware of how important it was to prepare their young students for these new drills. She had done it with the fire drill last month and the lock-down drill last week.
“This is the last freebie we get,” Mary Ellen reminded her. “From here on out Debbie won’t tell us when the drills are and they’ll be a surprise for us just like everyone else.”
“Got it,” Emma replied.
“Oh, make sure to hand these out at conferences.” Mary Ellen thumped the stack of papers she had given Emma. “It’s our schedule through the end of December. Lots of important dates to remember.” Again with the smile. “And here is a sign-up sheet for the party.” Mary Ellen tossed her another page, bright purple with a Christmas tree, a dreidel, and the seven candles of Kwanza bordering the edge.
“Great,” Emma said and looked over the page as Mary Ellen waddled across the hall to make the same delivery to Susan.
Studying the sheet, Emma learned her class would be decorating gingerbread houses made out of graham crackers, serving snowman pizzas made on English muffins, playing pin the buttons on the snowman, and doing a snowflake walk at their holiday party.
Well, there goes Mary Ellen planning my lessons for me again, she thought and set the papers on her desk. The bell rang, signaling the start of another school day. Kids and parents started through the door. Brayden stormed in just like always—nostrils flared and feet stomping. Mr. Lewis watched from the hallway, keeping his distance. As soon as Brayden was through the door he retreated, his cell phone glued to his ear.
After the entirely-too-long announcements were read and the children valiantly attempted the pledge of allegiance, Emma picked up the morning’s storybook. With Brayden sitting in his coat locker and everyone else at the carpet, she began the story. Donald, who spent the first few minutes of his day in the Special Education classroom, quietly came through the door with the aide, Sandy Jenkins, as Emma turned the first page.