Dear Emily

by Fern Michaels

  “Good for you, Emily,” Ben said in a husky voice. “We’ll all be here when you get back.”

  “Take as long as you need.”

  “I feel so blessed,” Emily said, blowing her nose. “I don’t want to cry and I don’t want any of you blubbering either. So…who’s driving me to the airport?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re all taking you,” the Demster twins shouted.

  Emily cried then. “I love you all so much. Thanks for understanding.”

  “I’m outa here,” Ben said, turning away so they wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “I’ll load the van. I assume the bags by the door are what you’re taking.” Emily nodded.

  Emily followed Ben out to the van. She stepped into his arms and cried on his shoulder. “I have to do this,” she whispered.

  “I know you do, Emily. If it feels right, do it.”

  Emily smiled tearfully. “Yes, that’s what you always say. You’re such a good friend, Ben. You’re always there for me. I know we got off to a rocky start, but we got on with it. My life is richer because of you. I never really enjoyed a picnic until you took me on one. I never thought I would ever go hot-air ballooning, but I did. You taught me not to be afraid of myself. I learned so much from you. There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. You never once mentioned my face-lift. Why is that?”

  “What face-lift? You look the same to me.” Ben grinned. “Sure, I noticed it, but to me it wasn’t important. I love the Emily Thorn I first met and that isn’t going to change. C’mon now, no tears. You’re going off on an adventure and it’s going to be whatever you make it. Think about me, the women, the business, but only if you have time. I love you, Emily. I’ll be here when you get back. You are coming back, aren’t you?” he asked anxiously.

  “Of course I’m coming back. I don’t know when, though.”

  “As long as you come back, that’s all that’s important.” He kissed her long and lingeringly. “You’re a hell of a person, Emily, and remember that I’m the one who said it first. Well, maybe I’m not the first, but I’m the one who counts.”

  “You are the first one, Ben. I’ll remember and you’re the nicest guy walking this earth. You remember that I’m the one who said it. I don’t care if I’m the first one or not.”

  “You’re the first,” Ben said wryly. “C’mon, climb in and let’s get this show on the road. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll get back.”

  Ten minutes later the door to the white van slammed shut. Two hours later there was a round of hugs and kisses and more tears as Emily prepared to walk down the jetway. To Ben she whispered, “Keep your eyes on things and take care of them. You’re probably the only man I’ll ever trust for the rest of my life. I’m going to work on that, but right now thanks for being my friend, Ben.”

  “Go on, get the hell out of here,” Ben said gruffly. Emily kissed each one of them again and then ran, her tote bag flip-flopping against her side. “Bye, Emily! Call us! We love you!”

  “No more crying. That’s an order,” Ben said firmly. “Come on, ladies, I’m taking you all to dinner! She’ll be back before we know it.”

  Emily massaged her neck muscles before she climbed out of the jeep. The four-hour drive over rocky terrain wasn’t something she was going to want to repeat for a long time. This was definitely the woods, Emily thought as she looked around. She was parked in a gravel lot that faced the main building of the Black Mountain Retreat. It was beautiful and it was so quiet she thought she was deaf for an instant. She sucked in her breath, remembering another time when the heady scent of pine weakened every bone and muscle in her body. But that wasn’t completely true either. Ian had a lot to do with her rubbery knees and mushy muscles. Tall evergreens, so tall she had to step back to crane her neck upward. Smaller evergreens, low bushy evergreens, each smelling better than the other.

  The main structure looked like a post card log cabin. A swing hung from rafters on the front porch and barrels of bright red geraniums were everywhere.

  Serene.

  Emily felt the tension leave her shoulders the moment a nun in a dark habit came out onto the front porch.

  Sister Phyllis, or Phillie, as she preferred to be called, was gorgeous, with huge dark eyes, perfect teeth, rosy cheeks and a disposition Emily would have killed for.

  “You must be Mrs. Thorn. Father Michael called us. He said we were to roll out our red carpet. Sad to say,” Phillie said, laughing, “we don’t have a red carpet. We have a prayer rug, worn in spots and it’s hard to see what color it really is. It works, though, that’s the main thing.” Her chuckle was rich and warm. Emily felt drawn to her immediately.

  “It’s beautiful here. Quiet.”

  “Oh, yes, it is quiet. We liven up at meal time and we’ve been known to have sing-alongs.”

  “No!” Emily said in mock surprise.

  “Let’s get you signed in and I’ll show you to your cabin. I just hate paperwork. I’d rather say five rosaries.”

  Emily laughed when she noticed the paperwork consisted of her signing her name and writing a check.

  “This particular path is called Archangel Trail,” Phillie said. “Since you aren’t of the Catholic faith, archangel means an angel of high rank. Father Michael said you belong on this trail. He said you’d know why.”

  “Bless his heart. Yes, I know why. It’s lovely. Who tends the flowers?”

  “You do as long as you live here. I personally check for weeds each day at sundown. Well, what do you think of it?”

  “It’s charming. I don’t see any other cabins. Am I the only one here?”

  “Good heavens no. There is only one cabin on Archangel Trail, though. They more or less all meander along and come together at the main cabin where you drove in. You absolutely cannot get lost. There’s a map of the area inside. It will show you where the ranger station is. They check on us twice a day. We’re filled up right now. That means there are forty-six guests. Meals are taken in the hall behind the main cabin and it is clearly marked. We have a chapel that is on Ascension Trail. You only attend services if you want to. The religious classes are marked on your calendar. Nothing is mandatory here. We have a recreation hall on Holy Cross Trail. We have a television, library, soda fountain, and a stereo system. The phone is in the hall. If someone calls you, we send someone to your cabin and a clothespin is attached to your mailbox. We get mail every day. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “Mealtimes. What happens if you miss one?”

  “Then you miss it,” Phillie said cheerfully. “We only have one seating. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon, and dinner is at six. Our food is plain but robust. One of the sisters makes fresh bread every day and bakes pies. All our food is grown and cooked here. As I said, it’s plain, but in all the years we’ve been operating, we haven’t had one complaint.”

  “Remarkable.”

  “Let’s go inside. I always like to see the guest’s first impression.”

  “It’s…it’s…”

  “Spartan?”

  “Not really. It’s lovely, Sister. I think I expected something a little more rustic.”

  “Ah, rustic. I see. Will you be comfortable here?”

  Emily looked around at the plain, comfortable furniture. The fireplace was fieldstone with two tubs of pink flowers on the hearth. Mountain scenes hung on the walls. The lighting looked good. She moved into the bedroom. Double bed, huge closet, dresser, an easy chair with a floor lamp. The bathroom was small with a sink, toilet, and stall shower, all tiled in blue. A hooked rug was on the floor.

  “I’ll be very comfortable here, Sister,” Emily said.

  “Don’t be alarmed when you hear the bells ring. We ring the Angelus three times a day. We call it a devotion. It’s loud. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, Sister.”

  “I’ll have one of the boys bring your bags down in the next half hour. Your vehicle has to stay in the parking lot. You can keep your bicycle here, t
hough. Do you ride?”

  “I never have. I bought the bike in town. Back home I rode for miles on my stationary bike.”

  “That must have been boring,” Phillie quipped.

  “Well, I used to watch Sue Simmons and Al Roker when I pedaled. Sometimes I watched Sally Jessy Raphael in the mornings. It helped the time pass, but you’re right, it’s boring.”

  “There’s so much for you to see. Don’t be surprised to see the squirrels and rabbits at your door begging for food. They come as far as the steps and wait ever so patiently. You’ll see several containers on the porch. It’s rabbit pellets and nuts for the squirrels. I’ll see you at dinner, Emily. Is it all right to call you Emily?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you must call me Phillie.”

  “Okay, Phillie.”

  Emily flopped down on a wooden chair to stare at her view. She wondered when the peace and quiet would get to her? Probably by tomorrow. She was dozing off when she heard the sound of a horn and tires crunching the gravel of the trail. She shook her head to clear it.

  “Miss Thorn, I have your things here. Where do you want them?”

  “The porch will be fine. I guess the bike should be up here too.”

  “You could park it between those two hemlocks. Good shelter from the rain.” He waited for her response. She nodded.

  This was no boy. She wondered if he was a priest. He was tall with sandy hair and a boyish smile. Well-built, he filled out his khakis. He wore mountain boots that were worn but neat.

  “I see you got the best cabin in this retreat.” Deep voice. She liked that. Maybe it was going to be interesting here after all. “Most times it’s empty. Story goes that you have to be somebody pretty important to get Archangel Trail. Of course the nuns won’t admit that. So, you’re all set. Matt Haliday,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Emily Thorn.” She pulled two wrinkled one-dollar bills from her pants pocket and held them out. “Isn’t it enough?” she asked as she rummaged in her pocket only to feel change.

  “I’m sure it’s enough, but what’s it for?” A devilish light shone in his eyes.

  “For bringing down my gear. Phillie said a boy would bring it all down. Nuns might…mix up men with boys since they lead such a sheltered life…” Damn, she was babbling like a schoolgirl and she was still holding the two dollars.

  Long slender fingers raked at his hair. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. I think I’m flattered. I’m a ranger. I stopped by to check on things. We do it twice a day and Bobby was off doing something else so Phillie asked me to bring down your things. It was a favor. Save that two bucks and I’ll let you buy me an ice cream cone on Sunday. The sisters make ice cream on Sunday afternoon. All you can eat for fifty cents.”

  Emily stuffed the money back into her pocket. She felt embarrassed. “Okay, you got a deal. What flavors?”

  “She wants flavors yet,” the ranger chuckled. “They alternate, one Sunday it’s vanilla, one Sunday it’s chocolate, one Sunday it’s butter pecan, the fourth Sunday it’s banana, and if there’s a fifth week in the month, the sisters really get screwed up and end up making butterscotch. Best damn ice cream in the whole state. I make sure I show up every Sunday with my kids.”

  Emily thought about Ben and Ted. She’d have to write and tell them about the ice cream. “How old are they?”

  “Nine and fourteen.” She was about to ask where Mrs. Ranger was and why didn’t she come for the ice cream when he said curtly, “I’m a widower. The sisters are real good to my kids. They love coming here. They help out when things get going. Phillie can get frazzled real easy. Gilly goes off the deep end every Friday night during the fish fry, but then I’m giving away all the secrets of this here retreat,” he joked. Emily laughed and was still laughing when he hopped in his jeep and backed up the trail.

  “Guess he’s the only one allowed to drive the trails,” she mused. A widower. He showed up for ice cream every Sunday. Three more days till Sunday.

  Emily unpacked. It took her ten minutes until everything was in its proper place. Another minute to shove her suitcases under the bed. She grabbed for the folder on the dresser and headed back to the front porch. Just how far was the ranger station?

  Emily finished the slim brochure, set it aside, peered at the weeds in the pots of flowers. Should she weed now or wait till tomorrow? Should she shower? Nap and go to dinner or should she get up and explore her surroundings?

  “I am just going to sit here and soak up this pine-scented air. I am also going to smoke a cigarette. I might think about things, but then I might not. What I will do is think about making out a schedule for myself so I don’t go nuts. Breakfast, a hike, a swim and then a bicycle ride, some weeding, lunch, a nap, another walk, some more gardening, shower, dinner, and then…zip. Nothing. Watch the stars come out, count my blessings. Read up on the Appalachian Trail and the Smoky Mountains.” She positively itched to break in her new hiking boots and mountain bike.

  If she got bored, she could drive to Gatlinburg. She wondered how far she was from Memphis and if it would be worth her while to drive to Graceland to see Elvis’s memorial. It was something to think about if the time came when she got bored with living in the woods.

  Emily dozed and then slipped into a deep sleep. She woke at the first peel of the Angelus. She bolted down the steps, disturbing two squirrels at the base of a deformed pine tree next to her steps. As she ran, she called over her shoulder, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t feel silly at all.

  Dinner was lively with Sister Celestine, Tiny for short, offering the blessing. The food was served family-style, which meant dig in and help yourself and there’s more in the kitchen. Emily ate heartily of the pork roast, baby carrots, and potatoes from the garden. The garden salad was so fresh, also from the garden, that the vegetables actually crackled and crunched. The bread was homemade as was the butter and jam sitting at each end of the table. The cherries jubilee were so delicious Emily had to force herself to move away from the table.

  “No, no, no, Mrs. Thorn. Everyone carries their plate and silverware to the sideboard at the end of the room.” Emily blushed. “I’m sorry we forgot to tell you that,” Sister Tiny said with a smile.

  As Emily walked away from the dining hall, other guests came up to her and introduced themselves. Outside, under the canopy of pines where coffee was being served, Emily had a chance to listen to various tales of misfortune and tales with happy endings, thanks to the Black Mountain Retreat. As one happy guest put it, “You commune with God, nature, and yourself. Here in this tranquil place you can’t fool anyone, least of all yourself.” Emily wasn’t sure she understood what the woman was talking about. Obviously it had something to do with the spiritual side of things.

  “I’m Rosie Finneran,” a plump woman of an age with Emily said, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to see some new blood here. Every year it’s the same old people and I see you’re on Archangel Trail. Now that has everyone buzzing, I can tell you. Only special people get that cabin. To my way of thinking, it’s usually a person who doesn’t mix in and has a delicate problem of some kind. There are others who say it’s a VIP kind of thing and of course the habits don’t divulge secrets. Personally I don’t really care, but I would think you’d be lonely all the way down there by yourself. I talk a lot,” she said breathlessly. “A lot of the people here don’t talk at all. They pray. Prayer’s fine, but there are other things in life. Do you like it so far? Wait till you meet the Rangers. Verrrrryyyy nice. I’m looking for a partner. Most of the people on Easter Trail where I am are a bunch of old farts. How come you’re here?”

  “You’re right, you do talk a lot.” Emily grinned to take the sting out of her words.

  “That’s because I come from a family of eleven kids and you really had to get in there and say what you had to say. I myself have eight children and it was the same kind of thing. They’re all gone now and leading their own lives. I come here every summer. Ten years
now.”

  Rosie was short, basketball round with plump cheeks, tight, gray curls held in place with colored barrettes with metallic streamers hanging down past her ears. Piercing blue eyes hid behind ornate shell-rimmed glasses. Emily was reminded of a busy, precocious squirrel.

  “This is my first year,” Emily said.

  “This place hooks you. When you leave at the end of the summer, you can’t wait to get back home among your own things, and then after a week or so, you wish you were back here. Everyone says the same thing. I think you and I will get along swell and we can buddy up if you lighten up. You look much too serious. Later we can talk about whatever you think is your problem. You also look like you’re full of questions, so fire away.”

  “How many nuns are here? Do laypeople work here? It must take a lot of people to keep everything as nice as it is. How often do the rangers come here? I met the one called Matt. He brought my gear down to the cabin.”

  “Whoa. One at a time. We have six nuns. They aren’t your regulation nuns. They let us call them by their nicknames. They join in and have fun with us. We have a softball game in August and they play right along with us. Phillie is a real slugger and Tiny can catch a pop fly like you wouldn’t believe. They pray a lot and they swim by themselves. The others don’t intrude. They’re friendly and trust me when I tell you they keep their lips zipped. Every time I talk to one of them I feel so…peaceful. It’s hard to explain. They have no worries, they live for God and to do good deeds. I guess the word I’m looking for is pure. So when you talk to them about a problem, they always seem to have the right answer. I’m not a Catholic, but I go to their mass on Sunday. A lot of the rangers come too. A priest from Gatlinburg comes every Sunday. It’s real nice and sets the mood for the rest of the day.