Fiercely Emma: Cake Series Book Three

by J. Bengtsson

  Emma looked at me with both fear and excitement. In a few seconds, our lives were going to change. We’d prepared for this moment, but now that it was finally here, I wasn’t sure I was ready. Emma shocked me from my doubt by strangling my hand with such force that I was actually forced to call out my safe word. “Discombobulated. Discombobulated.”

  Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that safe words didn’t exist during childbirth. Right in the middle of the push, Emma looked over at me and I swear she smirked just before saying, “You should have said butterscotch.”

  And with that, Emma made her final stand, bearing down with a guttural scream. I wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible that several small bones snapped in my swollen hand.

  A few seconds passed before we heard the first shrill cries.

  “Emma? Finn? Meet your baby girl.”

  25

  Emma, 2005: Summer of Healing

  Dad opened the door to the vacation house, and the eight of us piled over the top of one another, trying to get our first look at our home away from home for the next week. It was a modern four-bedroom place and boasted opulent upgrades that would have turned my formerly selfish sixteen-year-old self into the snobbiest of snobs; however, that wasn’t what was special about this particular abode. When people praised location, this clearly was what they had in mind. The view from the massive showcase windows was of sand and surf and nothing else. I could definitely spend a week here… if not the rest of my life.

  We’d been to this beach before, many times, but never like this. Never congregated in the hallway of a multi-million dollar home. Quinn undressed where he stood, no doubt perfectly willing to do a little skinny dipping if Mom didn’t hurry up and find his swim trunks. Grace was bouncing up and down like she was on a pogo stick, talking so loudly and excitedly that we all shushed her in unison. I glanced over at Jake to check his reaction, hoping he might be as impressed as the rest of us were, but my younger brother wore the same tired, emotionless expression he always did, that of a frown and furrowed brows. But then, there was no reason to expect more from him on today of all days… the one-year anniversary of the day that had destroyed his life.

  Because no one was sure how Jake would react to the notable date, the weeks leading up to it had been difficult on the entire McKallister household. Jumpy and on edge, we’d already accepted that things were about to get dicey and uncomfortable, so when Dad arrived home from work last week beaming from ear to ear promising us a surprise, the announcement was met with anticipation. It didn’t matter what good news he was itching to share with us; we were prepared to buy whatever he was selling. In this case, it was a long overdue vacation. Mind you, not to anywhere exotic or far away; in fact, we wouldn’t be more than thirty miles from our home. But because we lived near the ocean in California, those thirty miles were significant and along some of the most beautiful coastline in the world.

  One of Dad’s coworkers had talked to someone who talked to another, and suddenly a beach home was offered up free of charge by some kind soul whose only wish was that the week might be just a little bit easier on Jake. The fact that we’d arrived at the house on the actual day, one year removed, was bittersweet at best. All our lives had changed drastically in such a short time that it seemed almost unreal that the eight of us were standing here today alive and intact. Yes, we were fractured and scarred, but we were still kicking, and that had to count for something. And even though Jake wasn’t looking any more comfortable or at peace here, at least he couldn’t hide himself away in his room while the rest of us walked the halls and waited for the breakdown that was sure to come.

  Mom insisted on lunch before we were allowed to spend the rest of the day sunbathing, swimming, and playing on the sandy beach. While Kyle, Keith, and Quinn went shirtless, Jake kept a swim shirt firmly in place. We’d heard about his scars, but none of us kids had been allowed to see them. As with so much else in his life, Jake held onto those secrets with clenched fists.

  “Why don’t you take it off?” my father urged, while tugging on Jake’s sleeve. “It’s a beautiful day. You could use a little color on you.”

  He shook his head and looked vacantly out over the ocean.

  Dad sighed. When Jake had first come home, he was so weak and injured that we’d all taken to nurturing him and catering to his every need; but as time passed, my brother seemed to settle into that routine of dependency. He’d become complacent with inactivity and boredom, two things my father hated. “You can’t hide all your life.”

  Jake turned and glared at him before defiantly challenging, “Watch me.”

  The glint in my father’s eye could not be missed. He loved it when Jake showed signs of life.

  “Fine.” Dad grinned. “Then I’ll put mine back on, and you’ll be responsible for my farmer’s tan.”

  He slid on his shirt and then made a huge scene of applying liberal amounts of sunscreen to the areas just below the sleeves.

  I glanced back at Jake, who’d been watching the entire spectacle, and was pleased to see the smile on his face. Dad’s recently adopted ‘pity-free’ approach to dealing with Jake seemed to be working its magic, little by little, every day.

  ‘I’m going out to the platform,” Keith said as he took off towards the water’s edge. Quite a distance out was a floating platform covered in bird crap and anchored to the ocean floor. It had always been a destination spot for those hearty swimmers eager for a challenge. Seeing as my siblings and I had all been nearly raised in the water, due to my dad’s love of surfing, we’d all stood on that bobbing plank at one time or another, even Grace and Quinn who’d both been ferried out on inner tubes more than once.

  “Wait up!” Kyle called out, then turned to Jake and asked, “Do you wanna come?”

  Jake perked up a bit, but before he could respond, Mom answered for him. “It’s not a good idea, Kyle. His knee isn’t strong enough yet. What if he gets halfway out there and can’t make it?”

  “Oh, okay. I didn’t know. You want me to hang out here with you then?”

  Without even acknowledging Kyle’s generous offer, Jake shook his head and lay back in the sand. Kyle stood there a moment looking uncertain before joining Keith in the water.

  I hung back with the others on the beach, sunbathing until I was too hot to stand another minute.

  Looking over at Jake, I nudged him and said, “Let’s go in the water. We can body surf.”

  His arm was over his face and he didn’t immediately respond. Sometimes I wondered how much of Jake’s attitude was due to his circumstances as opposed to being a surly teen. Deciding to take a tip from my father’s playbook, I poked him again.

  “Emma, I swear to god,” he grumbled.

  “Stop being boring. Let’s go.”

  He removed his arm to glare at me but in return got an eyeful of my happy, smiling face hovering directly over him.

  “Pleeaase,” I begged.

  That seemed to annoy him more, and he returned the arm over his eyes. “Why don’t you go with the others to the platform?”

  “Because I prefer to stay here and bother you.”

  “Well, then, congratulations. You’ve done it.”

  “Come on, Jake. How old are you – one hundred?” I asked, as I took to pushing him.

  “Ugghh, fine.”

  Begrudgingly, he stood and followed me to the water. Geez, he didn’t have to be such a grump. We waded into the cool water, and after letting our bodies adjust to the temperature, we ventured out further. Wave after wave came rolling in but none strong enough to carry our bodies to the shore. After one failed attempt too many, Jake had completely lost his patience.

  “This sucks,” he huffed. “It’s like riding the kiddie rollercoaster.”

  “They’ll come. Relax.”

  My brother stood there a moment looking further out over the horizon before shaking his head. “Fuck this. I’m going to the platform.”

  “No, Jake. Your knee. You can’t.”
>
  “Then I’ll drown. Either way, it’s a win-win.”

  Jake waded straight out and then began swimming. I frantically followed after him, but with his arms pounding into the waves, it only took him a few seconds to be too far away for me to catch. I stopped, treading water, and screamed out for my father, who was nearby with the youngest kids. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but when he did, I’d never seen my father move faster. He sprinted into the water, and once it was deep enough, dove into the waves, swimming feverishly in order to catch Jake. Keith and Kyle heard my screams and they too jumped into the water. We were all in hot pursuit of a kid who didn’t want to be caught.

  Inevitably, Jake tired out about three quarters of the way to the platform, but by then, we were there. Circling Jake like a pod of protective dolphins, we called out our support, but the more we pushed him forward, the quicker he slid back.

  “I can’t do it,” he panted, flipping onto his back to ward off exhaustion. The bravado he’d shown moments earlier was gone, and now the clear beginnings of panic were taking hold.

  “Yes, you can,” Dad encouraged.

  “NO, I CAN’T!” Anger intensified every word. “I walk like a gimp. I can’t swim. I can’t go to school. I’m fourteen and can’t go out by myself and… and I can’t even take my shirt off at a fucking beach.”

  His outburst silenced us all. Jake’s frustration and anger was justified, especially today, but we were now in a perilous situation, floating in the middle of the ocean with a kid who clearly needed help but refused to accept it.

  “I get it,” Dad said, his voice aching in emotion. “I do. What happened was awful – I mean, really truly awful – and I know how hard it’s been for you. I wish I could take away every bit of your pain, but I can’t. This terrible thing happened to you, and now you’ve got no choice but to deal with it, Jake. So this is what’s going to happen. This is where the self-pity ends. You’re going to take back control, starting right now. You’re going to calm yourself down, catch your breath, and then turn over and swim to the goddamn platform. No more excuses.”

  The firm tone in Dad’s uncompromising demand seemed to have the desired effect on Jake, and he did exactly as he was told. When the tip of his first finger touched the platform, we erupted in cheers. Keith grabbed Jake by the waist and swung him around. Dad tousled his sodden hair. I patted him on the back, and Kyle, already up on the plank, offered his hand to the brother he adored.

  We spent the next hour on that bobbing plank, all five of us jumping and doing flips into the ocean until we’d worn ourselves out, and then plopped onto our backs on the crusty surface, gazing up at the cloudless sky. It was a rare moment of peace, and I savored it. The solidarity I felt with my family was absolute. I knew, at that instant, out on the platform, I’d do anything for them and they for me.

  As if to prove the point of our family bond, Keith said, “Take off the swim shirt, Jake. Let us have a look at the scars, and then it will be done and over with. That will be one thing you can check off your list of can’ts. Well, that and I can’t swim.”

  To my surprise, Jake didn’t shoot down the request straight off or strike back in an aggressive way. He just lay there in deep thought, perhaps deciding whether he’d trust us enough to reveal something so intensely personal. Just when I thought he would ignore Keith altogether, Jake sat up and pulled the shirt over his head.

  The rest of us immediately shot up into a seated position but were careful to seek Jake’s approval before taking a peek. He met the eyes of each of us before wordlessly nodding. Dad grasped his arm, in a show of fatherly pride, as the rest of us circled around and got our first look at the scars Jake had spent so much time safeguarding. The skin was still raised and red in some areas but fading in others. Truthfully, it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting after all the buildup. Perhaps fearing our reaction, Jake sat with his shoulders slumped forward, cradling the shirt in his arms, and scrunching his eyes tightly closed.

  My brothers and I exchanged dismayed glances before getting hold of our emotions. Instinctively we understood that how we handled this moment would define our relationship with him from that day forward.

  “Okay, done,” Keith said. “Thanks for showing us. You ready for a swim?”

  Jake kept his shirt off the remainder of the afternoon, and his and Dad’s farmer tans were quickly fading as a bronzed glow began to take form. The dark circles under his eyes brightened, and he even seemed to stand up a little straighter. The real surprise came when he managed to keep his composure when Gracie gasped in shock at the sight of his marked back. Instead of snapping at her, Jake calmly related that he’d been injured and those were the scars that remained. Whatever had happened out in that water seemed to have had a profound impact on him. It was as if he’d come to some sort of compromise with himself. And hopefully, just hopefully, that meant he’d decided to give life another shot.

  Later that night, the four of us stayed up late watching a movie on TV and talking. It had been a long time since we’d felt that level of comfort with each other. Our voices must have carried into the other room as Gracie came out dragging her blanket behind her.

  “Emma,” she groggily whispered. “Build the tent.”

  “We don’t need it anymore.”

  “Yes, I do,” she whined.

  “When we get home. I can’t build it here.”

  “Why can’t you?” Jake asked.

  “Well, I don’t know. I guess we could.” I smiled at him, rapidly coming to the conclusion that this was actually an awesome idea. “Keith, strip the sofa bed. Kyle, fetch some pillows. Jake, we need snacks.”

  As the boys brought the necessary items, I built a bed tent three times bigger than at home. Not to brag, but it was a masterpiece of entwined sheets, with socks used to tie them in place. Once it was retrofitted to accommodate six, we piled in, Keith cradling a still barely awake Quinn. And there we stayed, talking, snacking, and bonding like we had so very long ago. At one point, Grace sidled up to Jake and wrapped her little arms around his. Surprised by her touch, he flinched, yanking his arm back. My sister immediately crawled away, frightened of him once more.

  “Sorry,” Jake apologized. “I didn’t mean that. Give me another chance.” He opened his arms to her. Grace looked to me for guidance. I nodded, smiling my encouragement, and she went to him, tentatively propping herself up next to him. Jake lay his arm over her shoulder, and she shyly peered up at him, her face filled with joy.

  Whispers could be heard from outside the protective zone, and we all suddenly sealed our mouths shut. Busted. Mom and Dad would not be pleased. It was well past one in the morning, and we had Grace and Quinn out of bed. I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped my mouth, and Quinn flung himself into my arms laughing so hard the sheets shook. Suddenly the faces of our parents appeared in the opening, both sporting amused smiles.

  “Is there room for two more?”

  26

  Emma, Present Day: Family Unit

  Waking with a start, my head swiveled to the bassinet beside the bed. She was gone. My groggy heart roared to life as I tore the covers off and gripped the sides of her bed. Instantly, the panic eased. Darwin, the shark-turtle stuffed animal, was lying in the place our daughter normally slept. It was Finn’s way of easing my anxiety and letting me know that he had her. Sinking back onto the bed, I took a few deep breaths and covered myself back up with the sheets.

  Although thankfully not a daily occurrence, these morning freak-outs were frequent enough that Finn and I had a plan in place to combat them. I was slowly resolving myself to the fact that I would need help to move past my fears. My daughter deserved a mother who was relaxed and didn’t hover over her day and night. I wanted to be young and fun and allow my daughter to grow by doing and laughing and feeling. In other words, I wanted to be Finn.

  If ever there was a man made to be a father, it was he. There was no adjustment period or postpartum pouting from that guy. In fact, hi
s only parenting lapse was the surgical masks he wore when changing the baby’s diaper. No matter, our daughter adored him with or without the protective covering, and though she was only three months of age, he already lit up her world as much as he did mine.

  I heard his footsteps coming down the hall, and unbelievable happiness revived my tired body. Never could I have imagined the joy this life would bring me. Finn crossed under the doorframe cradling our daughter in his arms.

  “Oh, hey, did you get my message?” he asked, referring to Darwin.

  “I did. Thank you. How’s our girl?”

  “Yeah, you know, so damn needy. She’s just me, me, me. Talk about a freeloader.”

  It was a lot of tough talk coming from his mouth, especially seeing as his adoring smile told another story. Finn leaned down and kissed me before transferring the baby to my arms. And then, as if he couldn’t quite get his fill of his little girl, he ran his finger over her smooth cheek and beamed.

  “I take it all back. She’s fierce, just like her mommy.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s hope junior here gets everything else from you… except the curls, of course. Those you can keep.”

  “See, you say you don’t like my locks, but your actions speak otherwise.”

  “Believe what you will,” I said, shrugging. It wasn’t easy to portray such indifference when we both knew I loved his hair like no other.

  “And stop calling her junior,” Finn complained. “You know I hate that. I still can’t believe you talked me into it.”

  “Oh, quit your bitching. It’s the perfect name and you know it.”

  Then gazing down upon the snoozing baby in my arms, I smoothed a few silky strands on her tiny head and whispered, “Isn’t that right, Indiana?”

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