Emily walked back to the Mastersons’ car and got in. She huddled into her coat, but didn’t turn on the engine or the heater.
Maybe she should go to a hotel and not spoil anyone’s evening. It was bad enough that her homecoming was spoiled; why spoil her friends’ party? You don’t know that you would spoil it, she argued with herself. Of course I know it. Those men don’t know me so conversation would be difficult. The women will probably feel uncomfortable. Why would you go to a hotel when you own a house other people are partying in…without you, her other self argued in return. I thought…I expected…that things would be the same as when I left. Obviously things have changed a great deal. Everyone appears to have someone. In my house. Their house too; they pay rent. That entitles them to entertain. You yourself said they could do that. Yes, but I expected to be part of…If I go into the house, I’ll be like a fifth wheel. “Shit!”
How long are you going to sit here and freeze? Aren’t you going to go up and ring Ben’s doorbell or open the door with the key? Better to go home and try to sneak upstairs from the kitchen.
Emily opened the car door and got out. Her face grim with purpose, she walked up to Ben’s door. She shoved the key in her pocket and rang the bell.
Emily’s first thought when the door opened was, I was this young once. I even had a ponytail. I don’t ever remember my skin being that clear and blemish free. She had to do something, say something. She forced a smile and said, “I believe I have the wrong house. I’m looking for 2112.”
“This is 2121. It’s easy to mix up the buildings. The one you want is three streets over. Baddinger runs both ways and curves around. You think it’s three streets but it’s really all the same.”
“That explains it,” Emily said, backing down the steps. From inside she heard Ben call, “Who is it, Melanie?” And Melanie’s reply. “Someone looking for 2112.”
Melanie yet.
Emily ran to the Mastersons’ car. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. “And a happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” she said bitterly as she turned the key and then the headlights.
The Mastersons’ house was dark when she returned home. She parked across the street from her own house, got out, and walked down the driveway to her own kitchen door. She opened it, walked across the kitchen to the back stairs and up to her room, her eyes smarting with unshed tears. She closed and locked the door to her room.
They don’t need you, Emily. Not anymore. Your friends have come into their own. Her other self presented an argument. You, of course, are basing all this on what you saw through a window. And that sweet young person who opened Ben’s door.
Men!
She hated them all.
Men were the reason for all her unhappiness. Before and now.
Go figure.
Emily took her time undressing, hanging up her new suit. Why in the world was she saving these shoes with a broken heel? She tossed them in the wastebasket in the bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and her hair, hung up her towel. Another minute was used up putting on her nightgown and crawling into bed.
The long night stretched ahead of her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She could never sleep when things were bothering her.
Emily cringed, her nerves tingling, when a burst of laughter from the dining room wafted up through the heat register. If she wanted to, she could go over to the wall, sit on the floor, and listen to everything that was being said. If she wanted to.
She absolutely would not do that.
Emily tormented herself further by letting her mind, her memories, take over as she lay in bed, in the dark, listening to the sounds of her family. She wanted to be there, to share, to laugh with them. Instead she was lying in bed, in her own house, hiding out. By her own choice.
Ben. Don’t think about Ben.
Emily moved from one side of the bed to the other. She fluffed the pillows, straightened the covers, blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes.
Hours passed. The clock on the night table said it was 12:30 when she heard footsteps in the hallway. From outside she could hear the sounds of car engines, one after the other. Valentine’s Day was over.
And then the house was quiet, settled for the night.
Emily continued to think about the past, the present, and the future. When the clock said it was 4:30, she dressed in sweats and warm slippers. Why should she shiver? Who cared if her boarders sweated under their bed covers. She gave the thermostat a vicious twist and set the heat to 80 degrees.
Downstairs she stopped at the last step and looked around. The dining room table was still full of dishes. The turkey carcass loomed in the center of the table. The crystal winked at her with the aid of the moonlight filtering into the room in long silvery shafts.
In the kitchen, rage overtook her. There were pots and pans everywhere. They hadn’t even been put to soak. The table was so cluttered with wine bottles, glasses, snacks, hors d’oeuvres, dirty ashtrays, and used silver she couldn’t find a place to set her coffee cup. The pot was dirty, the grounds still in the stainless steel basket, the red light blinking. The smell of burnt coffee permeated the room. Fire hazard. How could they be so stupid? One, yes, maybe even two of them, but all seven? The oven was still on, too.
How dare they do this to her?
She didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to weigh the consequences when her arm sent everything on the kitchen table flying and crashing. Then she pressed the panic button on the alarm system, stood back to listen to the wild, shrill whistles and screeches that ricocheted throughout the house. That should bring them on the run, even the Demster twins from the apartment over the garage. The phone rang a second later. ADT. “Sorry, this is Emily Thorn. I set it off by mistake. The code word is clinic. Sorry,” she said, replacing the receiver.
It took three minutes before they were all standing in the kitchen, the Demster twins banging on the back door.
They stared at her with sleep-fogged expressions.
“Emily!” they chorused.
“Clean this kitchen. Now! You left the coffeepot on and the oven. Your guests blocked in my car last night. I wanted to use it. I had to borrow the Mastersons’ car. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is my house, isn’t it?” She was so angry she started to tremble. She had to get out of here before she said something she was going to regret. She turned on her heel and stomped her way back upstairs to her room.
This time she did sit down on the floor next to the heat register and listened unashamedly. However, there was nothing to hear except the sound of dishes and silver being moved around. She gnawed at her thumbnail.
Was she being petulant, childish? Damn right and she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to open herself up to the same kind of hurt Ian had inflicted on her. That was never going to happen to her again. She’d get rid of them before they got rid of her. Betrayal had to be the worst sin in the world.
All because of a party you weren’t invited to, Emily? How could they invite you, you didn’t even tell them where you were going, when you would be back. They pay rent and they have rights. You said they could entertain. Would you really stand in the way of their happiness if it meant they were going to break away and find a life with a man? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Did you really think all of you were going to spend the rest of your days here in this house playing Campfire Girls?
Yes, yes, I did think that. I wanted that. I wanted to belong, to have a family. I wanted us to share, to confide, to be there for one another when…for the bad times. We were doing so well, everything was working out. The business is a success, our futures are going to be secure. And…
And what? Is that all there is—security and work? What about living a life? Sharing it with someone who cares for you. Love? What’s wrong with that? You don’t have the right to tell the others what they can or can’t do in their personal lives. It was a party, Emily, a Valentine party. If you hadn’t gone away, you would have been sitting at that table with Be
n. You went away; it was your decision. Suck it up, Emily, don’t make waves. Life is going to go on no matter what you do so make sure it’s what you really want. Think about how much you enjoy the women; think about how well you all get along.
Ben.
The soft tap on the door forced Emily to her feet. Had she locked the door? She sighed with relief when she saw the lock button was straight up.
“Emily, it’s Lena. I brought you some coffee. Emily? Please open the door. I know you’re upset. Can’t we talk about this?”
Emily sat down on the bed and hugged her knees. She felt like a wounded bird whose wings had been clipped. Once she’d felt like a tired, old dog. She didn’t know which was worse. All she knew was that her heart was sore and bruised.
Last night you stand outside like a thief and spy on your friends. Today you are hiding out in your room as if you’ve done something wrong. Oh, you’ve come a long way, Emily. Go downstairs, clear the air. Don’t let this fester.
“I can’t,” Emily whimpered.
Yes you can. You can do whatever it takes. That’s how you’ve gotten this far. You can do this, I know you can. They have the right to be heard.
Emily brushed her hair, then stared at the person in the mirror. She’d actually forgotten about her looks. Suddenly what she looked like didn’t matter. What mattered was who this person in the mirror was.
They were in the kitchen, seated around the kitchen table, coffee in front of them. Her chair was empty; so was the coffee cup at her place.
“It must have been some party,” she said quietly.
“It was. Actually we were celebrating more than Valentine’s Day. Zoë signed up a huge insurance company in Raritan Center, and Martha signed up a chemical company in the Middlesex Industrial Park. Ben was supposed to clinch a deal with that new company that opened up behind the Foodtown. He called last night to say it’s a done deal. He was supposed to come to dinner but his kid sister came in from Tampa, where she’s going to college, and he was taking her and his son to the Poconos skiing today. It wasn’t as frivolous as…as it must have looked when you got home.” Lena’s voice was weary-sounding, her eyes tired.
“Sit down, Emily, I’ll pour you some coffee,” Kelly said quietly.
“I guess you want to know who…whose cars were in the driveway. Well, they…Rose and I invited the girls to a belated New Year’s party the twin organization had and…only twins can belong, but the party is open to guests…that kind of thing. The…others all seemed to hit it off pretty well and there were some new members and those members brought other sets of twins we’d never met before because they hadn’t joined up…we thought…it was so nice to enjoy their company and I am babbling and don’t know why,” Rose said.
“You made us feel like we did something wrong,” Lena said coolly. “I guess it was wrong to go to bed and leave the mess, but we agreed to get up early and clean it up. We drank too much wine. So, if that’s a sin in your book, we’re sorry.”
“We didn’t know you were coming home last night,” Nancy said. “Why didn’t you join us instead of going upstairs? I think your whole attitude stinks, Emily. Why are you making us…at least me, feel like we did something sneaky and underhanded? We live here too. You said we could entertain or did that mean only when you were here?”
Ben’s kid sister. Relief washed over her. She should say something, give some indication that it was all right. But it wasn’t all right. She knew before the words tumbled out of her mouth that she was, as Ian always said, cutting off her nose to spite her face. Her stupid, stubborn streak was going to do her in again. Maybe they’d just met the men a few weeks ago, maybe they weren’t really involved, but they would be sooner or later. And then, one by one, they would leave. And she’d be alone.
Emily nodded. She felt uncomfortable, as if she didn’t belong anymore. “Of course you have the right to have a party. Congratulations on getting the new business. I got some myself in New York. It’s all in the envelope on the counter. This is very hard for me to say, but I think it’s time you all moved on, found your own place. We can’t be the Campfire Girls forever. I’m…ah, I’m going to sell the house and get a townhouse or a condo. Maybe in Park Gate. Take your time, there’s no rush. Actually, take as long as you like.” She set her coffee cup down on the counter and left the room.
In her room, secure within the confines of the four walls, Emily cried like a baby, hiccupping and sobbing into the pillow. Damn, it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Being the initiator was supposed to ease the pain of the eventual parting.
And all because of a stupid party. Well, she couldn’t backtrack now. Even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. Get on with it, Emily, do what you have to do. But what the hell is it that I have to do?
You have to stop depending on other people for your happiness. You need to get a life of your own. Put all your old ghosts to rest and that means Ian too. Then you go on. Again.
What do you want Emily?
“I want…to be happy, contented, to have someone to talk with, to share with, the good as well as the bad, someone who isn’t judgmental. Ah, but isn’t that what you just did? You not only judged, you tried and convicted all your friends. Even Ben. You are a mess, Emily.”
A moment later she was out the door, taking the steps two at a time. She ran through the rooms, careening around the dining room table and out to the kitchen. She skidded to a stop. They were all crying. She was crying.
“It’s okay if you leave. I just didn’t want to have to go through it seven times. I thought if I told you all to go I’d only hurt once. I can’t stand…I didn’t think I could take it again. I watched all of you through the dining room window and you all had someone and I just knew, just felt, that…” For a moment she thought she couldn’t go on. “I’ll work at it,” she managed to say. “Don’t be angry with me. It was stupid of me. In my mind I was coming home with presents, new business, new face, new boobs and I wanted us to…to…it doesn’t really matter now. I was stupid and doing exactly the same things I did when I was with Ian. I had hoped I’d grown, gotten smarter, but emotionally, I guess I screwed up.”
They were all over her, touching her face, peering at her, standing back to check out her bustline, as Nancy put it. Then they were all talking at once, about the different sets of twins, what each had to offer, about business, the weather, the house, everything under the sun. The bottom line was, “We missed you, Emily. It wasn’t the same without you.”
“I missed you too,” Emily said, dabbing at her eyes. “I went over to Ben’s last night when I saw you all through the dining room window and this young girl answered the door. I pretended I was looking for another address. I thought he’d given up on me. Everything kind of overwhelmed me after that. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course. Isn’t that what family is all about?”
“Are we blessed or what?” Emily asked happily.
Blessed.
Chapter 15
“Emily, will you marry me?” Ben asked. “This is the fifteenth time I’ve asked you in the last two years. Is this going to be my lucky day?”
“I’m afraid not, Ben. I’m not marriage material. We both know that. Stop trying to make an honest woman of me. I like my independence. If I got married, I’d smother you. That’s my nature. It’s better this way. For me. If you…”
“Don’t say it, Emily. I don’t want anyone else. I love you, have always loved you. We’re so good together.”
“And I want to keep it that way. For some reason that piece of paper that says you’re man and wife changes things. Can we talk about something else?”
“What would you like to talk about, Emily?”
“My upcoming trip to Los Angeles to see Ian.”
“So, what else is there to talk about? You’re going, you made up your mind, so what is there to discuss?”
“I guess I just want your opinion.”
“I’m the one who suggested it, remember? Is there something el
se on your mind? If so, tell me. I’m not a mind reader, Emily.”
Emily smiled. “I leave in the morning. Want to come along?”
“Nope. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“You are the sweetest man I know, Ben Jackson,” Emily said, cuddling next to him.
“I’m not sure I like being called sweet. What’s wrong with rugged, handsome? I like sinewy.”
“All those things.” Emily smiled. “I can’t imagine my life without you and my housemates.”
“Emily Thorn, I swear that is the nicest thing you ever said to me.”
“Shut up and make love to me.”
He shut up and did as instructed.
She didn’t just look good, she looked smashing. A mover and a shaker. Or a woman on the prowl.
The Armani suit was perfection in itself, the shoes positively sinful, showing off her legs to their best advantage. Her makeup was flawless, her hair so fashionable she fit right in with those on the fast track.
She had an appointment at the Bayshore Clinic in the name of Ann Montgomery for three o’clock with Dr. Ian Thorn.
What she hadn’t counted on, wasn’t prepared for, was the crowd of protesters outside the clinic with their homemade signs and pamphlets that they tried to shove in her hand. She brushed them aside as she struggled past the knotted groups. She wondered if she’d come at a bad time or if this was a daily happening.
Inside, she took a deep breath, announced herself to the receptionist. When the nurse on duty handed her a form to fill out, Emily smiled and said, “I’m here for personal reasons.” She handed the clipboard back to the nurse.
“Doctor will see you now,” the nurse said five minutes later. “First door on the left.”
The urge to cut and run was so strong, Emily clenched her fists and dug the heels of her shoes into the carpet. Deep breaths. Real deep breaths. Okay, walk slowly, open the door just as slowly. You’re lookin’ good, Emily. Act like it.
Dear Emily Page 22