by Gray, Meg
“You?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “You don’t know kitchen stuff.”
“Sure, I do,” he said. “Now, how about some of that pie?”
Brayden looked at his father in disbelief. “We’re having pie for breakfast?”
“Why not,” Marcus replied with a grin. His eyes crinkled as his smile lit up his face. “Don’t forget the ice cream,” he called to Maricella through the kitchen door.
When Marcus, Luke and Brayden finished their slices of pie, Marcus looked down at his watch. “I’ve got to get going,” he said. “Luke are you coming in today?”
“Absolutely,” Luke replied. “I’ll be five minutes behind you.”
“You mean, an hour at least,” Marcus corrected him.
Luke shrugged. “I’ll be there,” he said.
“Bye, Brayden,” Marcus said, leaning over and kissing his son on the head.
“Bye, Emma,” he said before walking out of the dining room.
“Bye,” she whispered, still staring at her breakfast. The food looked delicious, but she just couldn’t bring herself to finish it all, her nerves were on edge.
“You gonna eat that?” Luke asked, pointing to her pie.
“No,” she said and pushed the plate toward him. She leaned back in her chair. “Brayden, why don’t you run upstairs and brush your teeth. I’ll meet you on the back patio and we’ll get started with our work for today.”
“Okay,” he said and hopped from his spot, making a mad dash for the stairs.
“Great pie,” Luke said and smiled at her. She wished she could wipe the smugness out of his look.
“You’re missing out,” he told her. “Oh that’s right you had some last night. Alone. In the kitchen. With my brother.”
Emma didn’t say anything, she knew he was trying to goad her and she wasn’t falling for it.
“Marcus seems in a good mood this morning, but then again who wouldn’t after dancing under the stars one night and smoochin’ in the kitchen the next.” His eyes glinted and he winked at her.
“We weren’t smooching last night,” she informed him.
“Huh, that’s sure what it looked like to me. So you got a thing for him or not?”
“No,” she protested too quickly. “I don’t and whatever almost happened last night shouldn’t have.”
“Why shouldn’t it? You like him. He likes you. Isn’t that all that matters?” Luke said matter-of-factly.
She didn’t answer, because Brayden came rushing back in. “I’m ready,” he said and Emma walked out onto the patio with him.
The next two nights Marcus missed dinner. Work kept him at the office late, but Luke was home and took Brayden out for ice cream both nights, leaving Emma alone in the house.
Emma convinced herself she could survive the rest of her days here if she continued to avoid Marcus, but the very next day he announced the deal he’d been working on was finally closed.
That night at the end of dinner, Luke announced that he and Brayden were heading out for ice cream and left the table without extending an invitation to anyone else. Emma caught the quick look he gave his brother.
Marcus turned to her. “Emma do you have plans tonight?”
“Yeah, I, uh, I’m going to call my friend tonight and we’re going to look at some rentals online.” Not only was it a lie, it was a lame excuse. She said good night and walked down the stairs to her room. Talking to Stacy was the last thing she wanted to do right now. It would lead to the subject of Marcus and Emma didn’t have the energy to dance around her questions. She’d much rather talk to her sister, but Audrey hadn’t returned any of her phone calls in the last week and Emma assumed she was still mad about Chelsea’s birthday.
Instead, she sat at her desk and typed a quick email to Stacy giving her a heads up that she was going to be looking for a new apartment and then put on her pajamas and climbed into bed with the remote in her hand. She knew she was a long way from falling asleep with thoughts of Marcus drifting in her mind.
* * *
Marcus knew Emma was avoiding him and every moment away from her only made him want to be with her more. He thought of her from the time he woke up until he fell asleep at night. There was an undeniable attraction between them. He felt it and knew she did too. Luke kept pushing him and told him not to let her get away. For all of the skirt chasing his brother did, he still had a soft spot for true love.
“She makes you happy, man and that’s good enough for me,” his brother had said last night after he got home from Ben & Jerry’s.
Last night when Luke set him up to be alone with Emma, Marcus wasn’t prepared. To top it off she came up with an excuse not to stick around. Tonight, he was prepared. He’d set a plan in motion and everything was ready. Brayden and Luke were leaving to get ice cream again.
“Emma,” he said quietly, when Emma pushed back in her chair.
“Yes?” She looked at him, but her eyes refused to meet his.
“If you have time, there’s something I’d like to show you.”
“Okay, sure,” she agreed.
“You might want to grab a sweater and I’ll meet you out back in a few minutes,” he said.
She nodded and turned toward the stairs. He slipped into the kitchen and grabbed the basket Maricella had packed for him.
“Wish me luck,” he said on his way out the back of the kitchen to Maricella and Guillermo, his co-conspirators tonight. They smiled up from their dinner plates as he rushed out into the evening.
Down on the dock, the boat rocked and bumped against the wooden frame. Guillermo pulled it out of the boathouse today, filled it with gas and cleaned off the cobwebs. The keys were in the ignition.
He tossed the basket in and ran back up the dock. Emma stood on the patio with her sweater folded over one arm. A light breeze blew and Emma pushed the hair out of her eyes securing it behind one ear. She looked lovely in the warm glow of the evening sun and he stopped just so he could watch her. Finally, he moved forward again and waved to her as he came up the steps into the backyard. He motioned for her to follow him.
She walked down the dock, trailing behind him, until they reached the boat. “Are you as crazy about boats as you are about old cars?” he asked.
“I guess I could be,” she said with a smile and shrug. He smiled back liking that she seemed at ease around him for the moment. He held out his hand. She took it as she stepped into the boat and he followed her. He started the engine and untied the anchor rope from the edge of the dock.
Emma took the passenger’s seat and he slid into the leather chair behind the wheel.
“Are you ready?” He asked, pushing his sunglasses into place.
He took her smile as his cue. Forcing down on the throttle, he steered the boat away from the dock. The water was still and calm and the boat sliced through it like a skater on ice. They were picking up speed and Marcus looked over at Emma who grinned from ear to ear.
“Hold on,” he shouted above the sound of the motor. “We’re going to go a little faster now.”
She gripped the armrest next to her and he pushed the throttle again. The boat’s engine revved and Marcus guided them along, leaving large waves in their wake. He could hear Emma laugh and that made him smile even more. He drove out farther. As the sun touched the horizon, he made a sweeping arc and slowed the engine. They rocked and swayed as the boat floated over its own wake. He turned the engine off.
“You up for watching the sunset?” he asked. “It will be down in about a half hour. I brought snacks if you’re hungry.”
“How can I be hungry?” Emma asked, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Maricella’s an incredible cook. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten so well.”
“Well, you can’t refuse fresh from the oven chocolate chip cookies can you? Come on.”
He stood up and walked past the chairs to the back of the boat. Sitting on the leather bench, he opened the picnic basket. Emma turned, watching him and then carefully swayed wit
h the boat as she walked toward him. The boat rocked as she tried to sit and she fell into him. He reached around to catch her.
“Sorry,” she said and scooted away, putting distance between them.
“Cookie?” he offered, without missing a beat.
“Yes, thank you.” She took it and bit into it.
“Root beer?” He asked next, cracking open a can. “Do you like yours with or without ice cream?”
She searched his face, like she was trying to decide if he was serious.
“I like mine with,” he said when she didn’t answer and pulled a foil wrapped mug from the basket which Maricella had dropped two scoops of ice cream into and tipped the can, filling the mug to the top. The frothy bubbles ran down the side and Emma reached for a napkin to help him wipe up the mess. He plunked a straw and long handled spoon inside. He held it out to her.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting it and took a long pull on the straw.
He made himself another one pouring more slowly to avoid another mess. The empty can clattered against the other when he tossed it back into the basket and he pulled out his own straw and spoon.
“Mmm,” Emma said. “I can’t remember the last time I had one of these.”
“Really?” Marcus asked her. “They’re my favorite. Brayden and I get one every time we go out for burgers.”
“Well, it’s perfect. Thank you.” She took another drink. He’d first thought about asking Maricella for chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne. But this was better. It took the romantic edge off the evening. It was fun and he needed to have more fun.
Whatever happened that night in the kitchen to push Emma away from him he wanted to bring her back. He didn’t know what it was exactly that had frightened her, but he was going to follow her lead, take it as fast or slow as she wanted. Everything about her told him she was worth the time.
The sky was brushed in pink now and the thin clouds skirted gently across the horizon, their beauty reflected in the water below. Marcus tried hard to keep his eyes on the horizon and off Emma.
They sat quietly watching the colors fade in the night sky and finally when the first star appeared Marcus reluctantly put away the mugs. Emma shuddered from the cool air, went back to her seat in the front of the boat, and pulled on her sweater. He latched the basket and followed her. Back in his seat, he turned the key in the ignition. The boat pushed through the water again and Marcus eased it next to the dock before tying it off. He lifted the basket to the dock and stepped out reaching back to help Emma.
“The sunset was really beautiful tonight, thank you for taking me out.” She hugged herself against the coolness in the air and Marcus longed to put his arm around her—but he didn’t.
“You’re welcome,” he said as he picked up the basket and walked beside her. “I appreciated the company.” He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how he felt and how she looked so beautiful, but he held back. They were almost to the door. He knew when she turned that she was going to say goodnight and slip inside. So, he spoke first.
“My parents will be arriving home tomorrow,” he started.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“They won’t get in until late, but there’ll be a welcome back dinner for them on Saturday night. My uncle and cousin, their wives and my grandfather will be coming. It’s kind of a formal thing. That’s the way my parents like to do it. Anyway, I’d really like it if you would join us. As my guest, that is.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Okay,” she said again and then smiled, melting his heart. “Thanks again for the boat ride. I had fun.”
He took a step toward her. “Me too.” When she didn’t back away he reached for her hand and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she replied slowly taking a step backward. She was smiling at him and he wanted to pull her back, but he didn’t. He dropped her hand, letting her go, and watched her walk back to the house. He stood there beneath the blanket of stars hoping this was the beginning of something special.
Chapter Thirty-three
Brayden sat next to Emma drawing a welcome home picture for his grandparents. Emma scanned her assessment book and marveled at the progress Brayden had made over the summer. He was easily performing at grade level. She had relayed this information along with a glowing recommendation of Brayden to Portland Private Academy and Portland Christian Academy. Marcus was hopeful her letter would help sway the board to reconsider Brayden for enrollment.
While she stood behind every word she wrote on Brayden’s behalf, she still had concerns about his placement for next year. Brayden had made excellent progress. The summer was a breeze, because he already knew and trusted Emma, and working in his grandparents’ home provided a relaxed atmosphere. Working together one on one, Emma was able to adapt all of his learning. These circumstances helped Brayden to succeed and she hoped it was enough to help him cope with the demands of first grade.
For the first time in her professional career, she had deep concerns about the next year for one of her students. Usually, she bid her students farewell on the last day of school knowing she’d given the best of herself to them and wished them well as they moved on.
It was different with Brayden. She was invested in him. He held a special place in her heart that not many other children, except her nieces, occupied.
He’ll be fine, she tried to console herself, but she also thought she should talk to Marcus about her concerns. They could talk about some ways to be proactive in preparing Brayden for first grade and try to mitigate some potential problems. He would listen to her, she knew he would. It was something she never would have dreamed possible after that night in November when she presented him with Brayden’s first progress report. She felt bad about her first negative impression of him. He was all the things she’d first observed: strong, controlled, formidable and commanding, but also caring, compassionate, vulnerable and fun. She smiled at the memory of last night sitting together on the boat drinking root beer floats and eating cookies. It had been a perfect evening and she was trying to open herself up to the possibility of more perfect evenings with him.
“Do you like it?” Brayden asked, holding up a drawing of a brown house with green grass, a tree, flowers and a sea of water behind it. Across the top, he’d written in black crayon, “WLKM HOM” and at the bottom of the page below the green grass read, “I LOVE YOU. BRAYDEN”.
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “I’ll hang on to it and you can give it to your grandparents tomorrow at breakfast, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed and Emma tucked the page inside her books.
The next morning, with the picture in hand, Emma met Brayden and Luke in the foyer. She noticed how Brayden had been scrubbed clean and wore slacks and a polo shirt instead of his rumpled pajamas. Luke, too, looked freshly showered and clean-shaven. His black shorts were pressed with a crisp seam, a polo shirt and tennis shoes finished his ensemble.
“You ready for this?” Luke whispered to her as they approached the dining room. Emma passed Brayden the paper she’d carried and they all entered the room at the same time.
“Thank heavens, we can begin now. Maricella serve the breakfast,” a woman with short red-tinged hair said. The bracelets on her arms jangled when she waved them in the air giving out the order. Without even a hello or good morning Brayden and Luke marched around the table to the other side and took their chairs. Marcus, demoted from the head of the table, stood and pulled the empty chair next to him out for Emma.
“Mother, Father,” he said. “This is Brayden’s kindergarten teacher, Emma Hewitt, who has been staying with us and working with him while I’m at work.”
The senior Mr. Lewis looked at her from his end of the table but said nothing and Mrs. Lewis gave her a very curt nod before turning her attention to Luke.
“Don’t you have a kiss for your mother?” she demanded, leaning toward him.
&nbs
p; “Yes, mother,” he said and stood to place a kiss on her cheek, just like a puppy obeying his master’s command. “It’s good to have you back, mother dear.” The mood around the table was a far cry from where it was the day before. Yesterday, Luke was teaching Brayden how to blow bubbles through the straw of his chocolate milk to create a foam topping. The two were in a competition to see whose bubbles could grow the tallest without spilling over the side. This morning, however, Emma almost felt afraid to breathe. The formality of the atmosphere was so thick.
“Hello Brayden,” Mrs. Lewis said next, addressing her grandson. “I hope you’ve been a good boy.” She spread her napkin over her lap never looking at Brayden.
Maricella appeared with a large tray laden with plates of Belgian waffles and fresh fruit. She served Mrs. Lewis first and then moved deftly around the table, her starched apron swishing as she stepped in and served each plate. She moved in a random order, next serving the senior Mr. Lewis, then Marcus, Luke, Brayden and finally Emma.
Before, Maricella turned to go, Marcus stopped her.
“Maricella, Ms. Hewitt will be served with the ladies from now on, please.” The housekeeper nodded and Emma caught Mrs. Lewis giving her son an incredulous look. Marcus either ignored it or didn’t see it. The remainder of the meal was filled with Mrs. Lewis’s vibrant recounts of their time away in London, France, Spain and Italy. Her dialog was directed toward her sons, who listened with the practiced appearance of attention.
After the dishes were cleared and the coffee cups refilled Emma caught Brayden’s eye and nodded toward his grandfather next to him, reminding him to present his picture to his grandparents.
“Grandfather, I made this for you and Grandmother,” Brayden said, holding out his drawing.
His grandfather took it from him, adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and scanned the picture.
“That’s very nice,” he said, handing it back to Brayden. “Now take it on over to your grandmother.”
Brayden slid cautiously from his chair and walked to his grandmother, handing the paper over gently.