Sharing a guilty glance, Emmy and Riley crossed the threshold together. “Yes, sir,” Emmy murmured at the same time Riley seated her and said, “No problem, Logan. Our social calendar is set, so go ahead. Ask away.”
“Nothing’s set, Riley,” Emmy said out of the side of her mouth. “I promised Alanna. Kids suffer too many broken promises. Besides, there’s Egypt to consider.”
“Alanna and Marge can feed the kitten. Jed gave me a key to Frannie’s house in case of any emergency.”
“You have a key to my house?”
“Yes. What? Do you think I’d walk in unannounced?”
“I want that key, Riley. And I’m not reneging on my promise to Alanna.”
Riley’s face fell. “Damn, but you’re one stubborn female. How’s this? We take Alanna out for pizza tonight, and you and I go to Catfish Corner tomorrow night.”
Emmy ended up agreeing. Deep down, she wanted to patch things up with Riley. She tried telling herself it was because after years of wondering—imagining all sorts of things about her birth mother—she was ready to learn the truth. Her soaring heart knew better. Riley had always been her anchor. He might not want to be, but he still was.
Chapter Eight
“I’m proud of you, Emmy,” Riley told her as they left Logan’s office, after initialing for receipts of her truck, which Kyle Masters and a second deputy had brought in. “You stood up well under the heat he blew your way. He did his best to rattle you.”
“I told the truth as I remember it. But it’s harder looking back than I imagined,” she said, sounding distant and shaken. “You and Jed stayed here. The sheriff treats you like adults. He acts as if Will and I remained kids. Oh, I hope Will survived. Fielder hasn’t tried to locate him. Don’t you wonder why?”
Riley clamped a broad hand around her neck and gently massaged the tight muscles. “For one thing, there’s the size of Logan’s workforce. Just two deputies, and one of those is part-time. While I wouldn’t exactly say our sheriff is fumbling around in the dark, neither do I believe he has the best tools available for investigating a murder. Especially one that’s almost twenty years old.”
“I know Jed didn’t . . . couldn’t have done it. Sheriff Fielder will never find the culprit if he doesn’t widen his investigation.”
“You don’t think Will—?”
“Certainly not.” Emmy glanced up at Riley with eyes that flashed ominously.
He dropped his hand. “The state relocated you. Jed stayed and took his lumps. Will took off. You heard Logan. He interviewed a credible witness who saw Will hitch a ride with a trucker headed toward Dallas. The guy said Will acted furtive. Nervous.”
“How can you even think Will might have killed Mom Fran? You were friends.”
“I wish I could swear that was true.” Riley thrust a hand through his hair. “Will McClain was a loner. He always held back something of himself.”
“Like you’d have been so trusting if you’d lived his life? Over the years I’ve met my share of no-good double-dealers. Will was solid gold where it counted.”
“Maybe I’ve been a lawyer too long, Emmy. The truth is, good people can do bad things. I wish I could see everyone the way you do.”
“It comes from navigating the system. To survive, a kid has to learn to read who’s trustworthy and who’ll let you down.”
“So if none of the people closest to Frannie Granger killed her, who did?”
Emmy looked startled. “That’s twice you’ve hinted I might know.”
“Sorry, that was a rhetorical question. One that everyone in town has been asking since Tessa made her grisly discovery.”
“You seem to know her pretty well.”
“Tessa?” Riley stuck his hands in his pockets. “She interviewed me when she first came to town, hoping I’d have family history to document her theory about the placement of the Caddo burial mounds.” A muscle in Riley’s jaw flexed. “It goes without saying that I wasn’t as helpful as she’d have liked.”
“You must not have treated her too shabbily. She acted quite happy to see you.”
“Whoa! You’re totally wrong if you think anything’s going on between Tessa Lang and me. Is that what you’re implying?”
Emmy hiked up one shoulder. “I didn’t see a wedding ring on her finger.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I hit on every single woman I meet?”
“Do you?” Emmy fixed curious eyes on Riley. “I’m operating on old data here. If memory serves, you cut a wide swath through our town.”
A splash of red stained his high cheekbones. “As did Jed and Will, and a dozen other guys I can name. We were normal, horny, adolescent boys. Give me credit for having developed discretion along with maturity.”
It was clear from the expression flitting across Emmy’s face that she was remembering his lack of control last night, when they’d made love on the floor of her porch. “I really need to get home,” she said in a strained voice.
“Emmy, wait.” Running after her, he caught her as she reached her pickup. “I can’t explain. What’s between us confuses me. Rationally, I can say you’re the best part of a turbulent past. Hell, this isn’t coming out right,” he exclaimed with a frustrated sigh as Emmy tugged the door out of his hands. The driver’s window was down so he continued talking when she climbed inside the cab. “I never made any secret about wanting to change my life. You may believe I’m the same, but I’m not.”
“You only think you’ve changed, Riley. You’re from a strong, proud family with a lifetime of values you can’t just slough off. My history is nonexistent.”
“You’re comparing peaches and prunes. You were coming into your own at thirteen. You were tough, funny and completely honest. You, sugar babe, not your ancestors. What you’re missing hasn’t affected the woman you are.”
“Oh, Riley. You still don’t get it. I lost my history when my birth mother set me adrift. I want pieces of it back. I’m not a complete idiot, though. I’m not looking for someone to mother me. It’s facts I want, facts about my origins.”
Riley curled his hands over the top of Emmy’s lowered window. He seemed troubled. “I said I’d ask some of my colleagues.”
“I know. Any information will help. I can tell I’m not really getting through to you, but I am going forward with a search, Riley. If you find that thought repugnant, then we have to end everything other than a purely professional relationship right here.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Her voice wavered, but her eyes met his and remained firm.
“I think you’re making a mistake, but I’ll start those inquiries for you. Meanwhile, I’ll do some soul-searching. By tonight, I’ll either be ready to assist you or I’ll provide you with a referral. I’m honestly not sure I’ll be able to ignore my long-held belief that we’re better off foregoing our pasts to live strictly in the here and now.”
Emmy clamped her top lip between her teeth and nodded. The lines were clearly drawn, and she felt like crying. It wasn’t fair that he’d expect her to give up either their relationship or her pursuit of her history.
Since when is life fair? nagged an insistent voice in her ear as she drove away. She’d actually reconciled herself to losing him by the time she turned down her lane and saw his daughter pacing beside the fence.
“I thought you weren’t ever coming back,” Alanna cried, running up to the truck when Emmy had parked.
She heard real fear underlying Alanna’s statement. Emmy reminded herself that this child had experienced a series of nannies coming and going all her life.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m home now, and Egypt needs feeding. Go and ask Mrs. Yates if it’s okay for you to give me a hand. I’ll wait right here so she can look out the window and see me.”
Alann
a took off at a dead run. Her black hair streamed out behind her as she dodged among the trees. Oh, to have her vitality. Emmy smiled to herself, half wondering what it would be like to spend all day, every day, with a child, keep up with that boundless energy. The idea rather appealed, and it gave her pause. Was that why she’d developed this urge to find her roots? To prove once and for all that she wasn’t damaged goods? At some very basic level, did she crave her own children?
Emmy decided she’d need more time to consider that. She put the question aside as Mrs. Yates stepped out on Riley’s porch and acknowledged her presence with her usual unsmiling expression.
Alanna immediately reappeared at the fence. Emmy helped her climb over. “Don’t ever do this unless someone is around to help you,” Emmy cautioned. “We wouldn’t want you to fall, would we?”
The girl shook her head. “Mrs. Yates said my daddy called. He’s taking you and me for pizza tonight.” She rubbed her stomach, her eyes alight with excitement. “Pizza’s my favorite food. Is today your birthday, Emmy?”
Emmy turned from sliding the key into her door lock. “No.” Technically, though, she wasn’t sure. Talk of birthdays always caused Emmy consternation. Since the day she’d overhead Mom Fran say to her first-grade teacher, “We’re not positive this is Emerald’s birthday, but the state authorized us to use March 12th.”
Even though later Mom Fran had assured Emmy that the date they’d settled on had to be within mere days of the actual date of her birth, she’d never felt very enthusiastic about celebrating.
Alanna’s answer dragged Emmy back from the brink of old hurts. “When me’n Daddy go out for pizza, it’s my birthday. Otherwise a man in a truck brings it to us.”
“Well, it’s not my birthday. If it’s not yours or your dad’s, we’ll just have to consider this an extra special treat.”
“‘kay. I’m glad it’s not your birthday, ‘cause I don’t have a present for you.”
Emmy smiled at the child’s easy acceptance.
Alanna skipped ahead and scooped up the kitten. “Look, Egypt ate all his kibble while you were gone. Miss Gwyn always gives her cat milk. Can I put some in a clean bowl?”
“Sounds good. I’ll get a bowl. But if you’re planning to get the milk out of the fridge after handling the cat, you’ll need to wash your hands.”
“Oh, bother.” The girl sounded so adult as she set down the kitten and pulled a chair over to the sink, Emmy giggled and felt her earlier cares fall away.
Woman and child were snuggled side by side on the couch, reading one of the books Emmy had taken out of the library when Riley drove in a few hours later and tooted his horn.
“Daddy’s home,” Alanna announced as she scrambled up. “Don’t put the book away, Emmy. I’m going to ask him if we can finish the story before we go for pizza.”
Emmy had been about to say they could finish another day. She wasn’t fast enough. Alanna had banged out the front screen door and begun cajoling her dad at the top of her lungs.
Emmy was still sitting there, her thumb marking the page, when Riley and his daughter walked in, holding hands. They presented a picture that had played repeatedly inside Emmy’s head. Sometimes the child she envisioned with Riley was a boy, sometimes a girl. Sometimes both. Emmy’s stomach pitched and her heart tripped faster.
Transferring the smile he’d donned for Alanna to Emmy, Riley greeted her in a voice as warm and thick as honeyed whiskey. “That has to be some story to beat out pizza.” He swung Alanna aloft, then plopped her down next to Emmy. His smile faltered as his eyes strayed to the title: Are You My Mother?
“We don’t have this book, Daddy. A baby bird lost his mama. He thinks the Snort is her.” Alanna bounced on the cushion, presenting twin dimples. “Isn’t that silly?”
“Um, yes, completely. Kids’ books are designed to make you laugh, Alanna. They aren’t real.”
“I know. The Snort is like one of those digger machines you showed me when somebody built that house across the lake. Emmy said a machine can’t be a bird’s mama. I ‘spect he’ll find her,” she said wistfully. “But I can’t go for pizza till I know if he does.”
Riley wore a much cooler expression. One that told Emmy he wasn’t pleased with her choice of story. All he said, however, was “I’ll leave you ladies to your book while I go home and grab a shower.”
Emmy drew Alanna close. She’d be damned if she’d let Riley make her feel guilty. It was a delightful story. When social services had taken her away, she’d left her copy behind at Mom Fran’s with the majority of her childhood things. Before that, she’d slept with this book under her pillow. At the age of five or six, she’d prayed nightly for her real mother to walk in through the door. Of course, her mom was a vision of loveliness. Blond and green-eyed. In Emmy’s dream, she smelled of the sweet jasmine soap Fran let Emmy use on special occasions.
“Emmy?” Alanna snuggled closer. “Does this story make you sad?”
“What? Oh, no. I was just thinking how much I loved this book when I was your age. I couldn’t read, but I had all my books memorized.”
“What’s mem-mem-rized?”
“It’s when someone’s read a particular story out loud so many times you know it by heart.”
Alanna pressed her head against Emmy’s shoulder. “Mrs. Yates doesn’t like books. All she does is watch soaps on TV. Mostly,” she said with a sigh, “Daddy’s too busy. I’m not s’posed to bug you, he said. But I’d sure like if we could do this every day.”
Blinking rapidly to hold back tears, Emmy cleared her throat several times before she was able to read on. When she had kids, by gosh, she’d make time to read to them and they’d go to the local library. It was a crying shame that so many adults were too busy to enjoy simple things with their children. Although Emmy remembered that Fran was sometimes too tired when she came home after a hard day’s work. On those nights, she’d asked Jed to read to Emmy. He’d done so without complaint. Emmy hadn’t thought of those cherished moments in a long while.
She gripped the book so tightly, Alanna had difficulty turning the pages. Emmy wished she’d remembered to convey that Jed Louis to the sheriff. She wanted Fielder to see the Jed she carried in her heart. The serious boy who took on the chores of a man at an early age. And Will—he’d been around the block by the time he came to live with them. Tough as he was on the outside, he’d willingly skipped lunch and given Emmy his money whenever she’d accidentally left hers on the kitchen counter. No one else knew that Will had spent a whole evening reading a silly pamphlet on how to French braid; all the girls in junior high wore their hair that way and he was determined Emmy wasn’t going to cry herself to sleep over being different.
Alanna and Emmy were closing the book as Riley returned. He must have seen something in their dreamy expressions because he didn’t comment. Instead, he tickled Alanna and hoisted her up to ride piggyback to the car. And he held the door open for Emmy, whispering his thanks for making Alanna happy as he tucked her inside. He might have had differences of opinion with his deceased wife, as Josey indicated, but it was clear to Emmy that Riley loved his child unconditionally.
At the pizza parlor, they’d placed their orders and taken a table before Riley brought up the subject of Emmy’s search. Alanna had flitted to another table to watch some kids playing a Pokémon game.
“I touched base with a former college classmate this afternoon, Emmy. His name is Duncan Fisher. He says there’s a set of steps family researchers have modified that’ll help locate someone. According to Duncan, it’s everything we need to start. I guess it tells how to access public records and provides other investigative tricks. He referred to it as an Internet underground. He’s going to send me the URL in the morning and some of his notes. I had Marge make you an appointment for tomorrow at four. If that’s good for you, we can walk through the questions together. If four isn
’t convenient, have Marge reschedule.”
“I’m supposed to get my added phone jack tomorrow. They said a.m., but you know how that goes. If they haven’t shown up by three, I’ll ask Mrs. Yates to call you.”
“Sure. I’d be like a pinwheel in the wind without some kind of phone access in every room.”
“It’s not easy, but there were times I couldn’t afford a phone. But I’ve discovered that businesses look with suspicion on a person who has no telephone. To them, you’re automatically a deadbeat.”
“I suppose you’re right. We didn’t have a phone when I was growing up. Money didn’t stretch that far for my mom, either.”
“And did you consider yourself deprived?”
A distant, uncomfortable emotion crept into his eyes. “Deprivation was a given to some people in this town. But some people called it other things. Growing up Indian came with a lot of labels.”
Emmy automatically reached out to grip his hands. “I loved your family. I must not have paid any attention. I thought you were popular in school. Who—who called you names?”
Instead of answering, Riley stared over Emmy’s shoulder and muttered an invective. She turned to see a sultry blonde homing in on Riley. Emmy felt a jolt at seeing and recognizing Amanda Jennings. In appearance, she’d changed remarkably little.
“I declare, Riley Gray.” Amanda’s affected drawl was too syrupy. “I didn’t believe Daddy when he said you’d compromised a career you’ve worked so hard to build by taking up with a little nobody. I see it’s true.”
Alanna had run back to the table in time to hear Amanda Jennings take a jab at Emmy. The child flew to Emmy’s defense, stamping a foot as she faced Amanda. “My Emmy is somebody. You’re bad to say she’s not.”
Riley tightened his hold on Emmy’s hands. “Alanna, sit down and apologize for that outburst.” Lifting contemptuous eyes to Amanda, he said, “The same goes for your rude behavior.”
The child mumbled her apology first. Amanda tossed her head. Eventually, she said something too low for anyone to really distinguish.
Uncertain Past Page 14