Blitzing Emily

by Julie Brannagh

  * * *

  EVERY SUNDAY EMILY was in town, she had dinner with her parents and Amy at her mom’s house. Amy, the Hamilton family’s peacemaker, had started it. After their parents’ divorce, the task of family healing began around a dining room table while passing bowls and platters of delicious food. Sunday dinners had been awkward at times, but things had been relatively calm for the past few months. She was also a bit surprised that both parents greeted her without a fusillade of questions about Brandon.

  She sat down at the dining room table and spread a napkin on her lap. Her dad had been torn away from a basketball game on TV, but he didn’t appear to be cranky. Surprisingly enough, he beamed at Emily’s mother.

  “It all looks delicious.”

  “Thank you, Mark. Amy, would you like some mashed potatoes?”

  “Yes, I would, Mom. Thanks.”

  They passed the bowls of mashed potatoes, salad, and the platter of roast beef to each other. It was more family bonding time. Emily hadn’t been home for Sunday dinner for almost six weeks. She had multiple performances between Seattle Opera productions, and this meant more traveling. She didn’t see her mom and dad every day anymore. When she did spend time with them, the changes were pronounced. Her mom’s brilliant auburn hair was graying. She’d evidently decided to stop coloring it.

  Her dad was not only digging into his plate like he hadn’t seen food for a week, he was smiling at her mother like he meant it. Something was going on.

  “This is very good, Meg,” her father said.

  Emily’s mother blushed. “I’m glad you like it.”

  In the past the only way Amy and Emily had managed to get them in the same room for Sunday dinner was to threaten family therapy; something had happened over the past two months. Emily caught Amy’s eye and lifted a brow. Amy gave her a quick nod. They’d be discussing this later. In the meantime, Meg Hamilton smiled at her daughters.

  “Honey,” her mother said to Emily, “How are your rehearsals going, and how are you feeling today?”

  “My head hurts a little, but it’s much better than it was the other day. The doctor gave me a release, so I’ll be back in rehearsals tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  Mom patted her hand. “It’s good to have you home for a little while.” Her dad nodded as well.

  “It seems like I come home, and then I have to leave again.”

  “Does Brandon know you’ll be leaving again in a few weeks?”

  “I’ll make sure to talk to him about it.”

  Emily’s dad looked up from his plate. “Speaking of Brandon, we’d like him to come by for dinner at his earliest convenience. Your mother and I want to meet him.” He put his fork down and gave her a puzzled look. “Would you mind telling me why you got engaged to a man you’ve known less than a week?”

  Amy covered her mouth with her fingertips. Her mother glanced at him and said softly, “Mark.” They looked at each other. “Not at the table, please.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “I want answers, Meg.”

  “I know. I do, too.”

  Emily wanted to crawl under the table, but she took another bite of pot roast instead. She had answers, but she was fairly sure her parents wouldn’t like them.

  “Mom and Dad?” She pulled breath into her lungs. “I . . . Well, I . . .” She glanced down at her plate for a moment. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “You show up wearing the biggest engagement ring I’ve ever seen, reporters are badgering your mother and me at the office, and ‘It’s not that big of a deal’?” her father said. “How long have you known this young man?”

  “A while.”

  “How long?”

  “Mark,” her mother repeated, but she didn’t look altogether happy, either. “When will we meet this Brandon? Have you set a date, honey?”

  “Everything is fine,” Emily said. “Don’t get all crazy. We’re not planning a wedding.”

  Emily’s mother forgot all about her inside voice. “Excuse me? Why not?”

  “Meg,” her father said. He stared at Emily, and then sat forward a bit in his chair. “Why on earth would you get engaged and not be planning a wedding?”

  Emily wasn’t a fourteen-year-old anymore, begging her parents to let her move to San Francisco to train with a former diva. She’d been on her own for a long time now. She also knew that her parents were worried something was wrong. At the same time, she should have dragged Brandon over here and let him do the explaining. His parents, at least his mother, hadn’t seemed too excited about this, either.

  “We’re taking our time,” she said.

  Her dad bent over his plate and said nothing. The color was draining out of her mother’s face. Amy’s mouth was opening and shutting like a goldfish’s.

  “It’s good for my career. It’s good for Brandon’s career. It’s fine,” Emily said. “It works for both of us.”

  “You think this is going to help your career? This is an engagement. It’s not a date for coffee.” Her mother interrupted him.

  “I don’t understand this at all.” She reached out to grab Emily’s forearm. “Emily, don’t you love him? There’s more to life than your career.”

  “Mom, Dad, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to accept my decision. I’m an adult. Whatever agreement Brandon and I have is our business and nobody else’s.”

  Her mother’s mouth dropped open. Her father leaned even closer.

  “There’s something you’re not telling us. You got engaged to a man you knew—according to your sister—for less than seventy-two hours. We haven’t met him. You have no intention of planning a wedding. What the hell is going on?” he said.

  Amy tried to look helpless. Emily knew her sister cratered under the Mark and Meg inquisition, but they’d be talking later. She put her napkin down beside her plate.

  “Do you remember what James did to my career? I worked for years. I sacrificed everything in my life for this, and now I’m rebuilding. One man trashed my career, and another man’s reconstructing it. Do you know how many booking requests David’s had since Brandon and I announced our engagement?”

  “Is it that important?” her mother said. “There must be something else that will make you happy.”

  “Mom, do you know what it’s like to work your entire life for something and watch it ruined through no fault of your own?”

  Dead silence greeted Emily’s comment. Shame engulfed her like a wave. She’d hit below the belt. After all, her mother sacrificed a promising career as a ballerina for Emily’s dad. Margaret Hamilton walked away from the thing she loved most to marry the man she loved most. No matter how tired Emily was of her parents’ meddling in her life, she shouldn’t have brought it up.

  “Emily,” her father warned. Amy’s eyes got bigger, if that was possible, with shock and horror at Emily’s bluntness. Her mother dabbed at her face with a napkin.

  “Yes, Emily,” her mother said. She looked beaten. “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s enough.” Her father shoved his plate away, and rubbed his hands over his face again. “Emily.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s obvious what’s going on here. Your sister told us the engagement is fake, it started due to a misunderstanding, and you agreed to continue it for publicity purposes. What do you think will happen when someone finds out this isn’t real? There’s no way you can keep this secret. Have either of you even thought of that?”

  Yes, she had, but she wasn’t going to share that with her father. “It’s not going to happen.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been proud of you your whole life. You worked so hard to get the things you wanted. I never dreamed there would be a day when you’d embarrass me.”

  “Isn’t this what you wanted from me—to succeed?”

  “Not like this.” He tossed his napkin onto his plate. “I am disappointed with you.” He got up from the table, and left the room. Emily’s mother followed him.

  Amy let out a breath, shoved
her plate away, and put her face in her hands. “That went well, didn’t it?”

  “It will be fine. It will work out,” Emily said.

  She could hardly force the words out over the lump in her throat. Her father’s words struck like a lash. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t need his approval to survive, but the fact he told her he was disappointed with her was worse than if he’d screamed at her. Maybe she was destined to “disappoint” every man in her life. Maybe she shouldn’t care.

  No matter how hard she tried not to care, though, she did. It hurt more than he could imagine.

  “I’m always with you, Em, but I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

  Her voice was wooden. “I have to do this.”

  Amy reached across the table and took her hand. “Then we’ll get through it together, won’t we?”

  “Thanks, Ame.” She looked into her sister’s eyes. “What’s going on with Mom and Dad?”

  Amy shrugged her shoulders. “Damned if I know. They’re awfully cuddly.”

  Emily and Amy didn’t spend their whole lives conspiring against their parents, but they kept each other’s secrets from babyhood. Amy was also the only other person in the world who knew how hard their parents’ divorce had been on Emily.

  Their parents had split up when Emily was sixteen, in a firestorm of arguing and bitterness. Now they’d decided they liked each other. It was inexplicable, as far as Emily was concerned.

  Their parents argued about everything. Amy and Emily handled conflict differently. When Amy was upset, she couldn’t eat. When Emily was upset, she ate everything. As a result, Amy grew into a taller, even more beautiful blonde version of their mother, while Emily stayed on the short, rounder side. The ballet classes helped to keep her weight down.

  By the time their mother filed for divorce, Emily was living in San Francisco, and she had hardly noticed when her father moved out.

  Well, of course she had noticed. She just tried not to think about it. She wasn’t going to get emotionally involved with a man, ever. Romantic love was nothing but pain. Men cheated. They sat in their recliners, watched sports, drank beer, and grunted once in a while in a woman’s general direction. They were gruff and uncommunicative. They made your beautiful mother cry and ask what she’d ever done to deserve being treated that way. Emily wasn’t going to let her heart be ground into the dirt under some guy’s dress shoes. Her career was enough. She could hold out forever. She didn’t need a guy to make her life complete.

  Her mom’s voice brought Emily back to the present. She sat down again at the table. “Emily, you must not be hungry. You’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

  “Mom, everything’s delicious, but I’m pretty full.” Actually, her stomach churned.

  Meg reached over to pat Emily’s hand. “It probably wasn’t fun getting hurt, but it must have been nice to get a few days off.”

  “Yes, in some ways. I got some rest, and of course, I spent some time with Brandon.”

  Emily pushed her plate away. Now that dinner was finished, maybe she could escape from her mother’s house without answering more of her parents’ questions about Brandon. Maybe she could change the subject. Her dad reentered the dining room with mugs and the coffee carafe, and put Amy in the hot seat.

  “Amy, tell us what’s new with the store,” he said, as he sipped coffee.

  “It’s fine.” Amy stirred milk into her cup. “It’s a lot of work, but Valentine’s Day really helped me.”

  “What happened with the balloons that got caught in the stadium roof?” Meg asked.

  “Well, the removal made the news,” Amy explained. “I didn’t get fined. The police said that since they’d been delivered, it was out of my hands.” They all took another swallow of coffee, and Emily’s dad gave her a look. Uh-oh, the subject was back to Emily again.

  “Did Brandon just let go of them? How did they get into the stadium’s gridwork?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she responded patiently. “When he comes over for dinner, you can ask him that.”

  “Irresponsible. I’m not sure I like him, and I haven’t even met him. What would he have done if the police had charged Amy?”

  Emily opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke once more. “We’re not done with this, Emily, but we’ll discuss all of it at another time. Thank you for a delicious dinner, Meg.” He rose from the chair and vanished into the family room. He’d take a short nap while he pretended to watch whatever sporting event was on TV.

  The dishes were quickly dealt with, and Emily hugged her mother goodbye. It was hard to believe that her mom would be sixty this year. She felt so fragile, thin, and delicate in Emily’s embrace. Her dad was only a few years from retirement, too. Maybe the thought of being at a different stage of life had helped them overcome some of their differences. It was hard to say.

  Amy and Emily headed into the family room to find their dad fast asleep in his chair. Emily kissed his scratchy cheek and whispered, “Bye, Dad.” He stirred, but didn’t wake. Amy kissed his other cheek and said softly, “See you soon.”

  Amy reached out to hug Emily as they walked to their cars. “Well, at least nobody threw food.” She looked at Emily for a long moment. “Yet.” One corner of Amy’s mouth turned up. “They want to meet him.”

  “I know. We’ll deal with it.” Emily fumbled for her car keys.

  EMILY SPOTTED BRANDON’S Land Rover in her driveway as she pulled in. He was sitting on the couch when she walked through the front door.

  “How’d you get in here?” She dropped her keys on the hallway table.

  “Greg’s at my house with his girlfriend. Plus, you have beer.” Brandon pulled a key from his pocket and waved it at her. Emily recognized it as the extra one she hung up in the kitchen.

  “Did I tell you you could have that key?”

  “I left you one of mine in return,” he parried.

  “I don’t need to get into your house, do I?” Emily tried to grab the key out of his hand. She wasn’t fast enough. “I don’t even know where it is.”

  Brandon got to his feet and held the key over his head. She could probably get it, if she had a ladder. “You might. It’s in Kirkland, and I’ll write down the address for you. Come over anytime.”

  Emily shook her head, and immediately regretted the decision. The headache was almost gone, but it still didn’t feel great. “I must not be making enough of a point for you.”

  He jammed the house key deep into his jeans pocket, and reached out to hug her. “Hello, sugar. It’s nice to see you.” He rested his cheek against her hair.

  “It’s nice to see you, too. Give me back my key.” He just laughed. He finally let her go, and returned to the couch. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of this, but there’s a new invention called a grocery store. There are many varieties of beer available, and some of it is even cold,” she said. Emily sat down next to him. He was watching something he called “game film” on her DVD player. “I can’t figure out why you’re still here. I know your life is more exciting than mine.”

  “I told you,” he said patiently. “You have beverages, and my roommate Greg’s entertaining at home.”

  “I don’t get it.” Emily put her feet up on the coffee table.

  “How was dinner?”

  “It was awkward. My parents kept hounding me about our engagement.” She hauled a breath into her lungs. “Did you have anything to eat?”

  “Yeah. The guys stopped at the Wingdome. I think they’re still there. It was getting pretty crazy, so I left,” he said. The Wingdome was located on the main drag in Kirkland, a haven for singles on Lake Washington’s waterfront. Even in wintertime, the restaurant was busy. “A couple of the Shark Babes decided to pay a visit.” His dimple flashed. “Damian and Zach were having a back flipping contest outside. Tom stopped by. There was wagering involved.”

  “Damian, Zach, and Tom? On cement?” Every time Emily talked to him, she learned something new. Today must have been the “tes
tosterone poisoning” lesson.

  “You’ve met Damian before. He’s the one that called you ‘pretty lady.’ Zach owes you an apology, and you’ll be getting that the next time he sees you.”

  “He’s apologizing for what?”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed a bit. “He was rude to you. He will be treating you like the lady you are from now on. Tom’s our quarterback. He lives up the street from Damian, Zach, and me.”

  “They were doing back flips outside on the sidewalk,” she repeated, mystified. She turned to him in alarm. “Is this a football player thing? What if they get hurt?”

  “They won’t.” He grinned. “It’s a defense thing. I once heard someone say that the coach could leave the offensive players in a room with the door shut. He’d come back, and there’d be nothing out of place. Defensive players? Furniture would be flying out of the windows.”

  “So, you’re juvenile delinquents.”

  “No. We’re more physical.” He thought for a moment. “What did your parents have to say?”

  Emily couldn’t imagine why he wanted to know. She knew her parents would not be happy about a fake engagement. Hopefully, they would keep this little fact to themselves. Then again, after her father’s reaction, she didn’t think he’d be discussing it around the water cooler at the office anytime soon. Brandon’s voice sounded like it came from a distance.

  “Hey, sugar. I think I lost you.” A big, warm hand patted her thigh. “What’s on your mind?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”

  “Maybe you should tell me about it.”

  Emily wanted to tell him about it like she wanted a sexually transmitted disease. His mom and dad obviously never had a fight, while her parents made an episode of any daytime TV talk show look tame. Actually, she couldn’t say that. Her parents were more into the quiet and lethal arguments, the kind of stuff that left her so shaken she still cringed whenever she thought about it. One would think her former ballerina mom would be serene and unflappable. Hardly. Emily’s mom was passionate, excitable, wildly affectionate, and there was never a dull moment when she was around. Her father was an engineer. He would have been more comfortable drawing a diagram of his feelings than talking about them.