by Ella M. Kaye
Emma had come. She’d moved schools to come help, to welcome the beautiful little girl into the world. She’d been only fourteen herself, but she moved to the Cape where Helen had settled because she loved the beach in order to help her sister. When she went back home, to Leominster, for college, Helen had thrown a fit. But Patty was four by then. A handful but not diagnosed, and Emma had plans. Helen kept up the fit until their parents moved instead, to the Cape, away from the home they’d loved. Emma had to move into the dorm.
It was okay except it was expense she hadn’t planned. She was still paying her loans when she married Mark and he paid them off under her protest. And he moved her to Boston for his job.
And then Helen was given only a few months and Emma left her new husband alone to be with her sister while she adjusted. Emma expected he wasn’t too awfully alone while she was away but she never had evidence, only a suspicion.
And Fillan ... he’d go find someone else, someone more free, someone as juvenile and self-centered as he was, she supposed. As he should. Why shouldn’t he? She’d gladly, almost gladly, taken on Patty but he had no ties to do the same.
“Hello?”
Emma realized she’d picked up the phone. Her brother’s voice came at her, annoyed. “Yes? What? I’m on my way in a half an hour...”
“Come now, Emma. Don’t wait.”
She started to argue but the tone in his voice made her shiver. She hung up without another word and went to gather Patty. Of course the girl threw a fit since it wasn’t time yet and she knew it, but Emma put on her best “calm in a storm” attitude and coaxed her out.
Chapter 11
The last place Fillan wanted to be was in class. A beautiful Friday afternoon and he hadn’t seen or talked to Em since Monday, when she told him to leave. He’d kept hoping she’d change her mind, about class, or about him. Both, with the greatest luck – luck he’d never had much of and didn’t expect.
Only about half the students were there. He threw a hand shrug at Cheney. “Everyone at the beach today?”
“All, or most, are at Emma’s funeral, I would guess.”
“What?” His chest hurt. His stomach lurched. Emma’s funeral?
“Her sister’s. Not hers.” One of the suck-up students who wouldn’t miss class for a cyclone rolled her eyes. “Her sister died Tuesday. After a very long Monday of waiting for it, from what I heard. Tragic for someone so young, and with that poor kid...”
Her sister. Fillan forced breath again. “When does it start?”
“Now.” The girl looked at her watch. “About ten minutes ago. I feel bad for not going but I just can’t do funerals. Can’t handle it. I know that’s crazy but...”
“Where? Tell me how to get there.” He heard Cheney say he couldn’t leave, he had class, but he paid no attention to anything except the person who could give him directions and he raced back out to his car. Her sister. Patty’s mom. Patty would be with Em full time.
Parking in the nearly empty funeral home lot, which he found odd if the service was there, Fillan got out and stopped. He was in dance clothes – cut off sweat pants and a T-shirt. He couldn’t go in like that. And he couldn’t interrupt if it had started. So he waited. He could see the main door from where he stood leaning on the boot of the car. How long would it last? Twenty minutes already now. He had been to services that lasted no longer than that, and he’d been at those that were interminably long, which felt like torture to him and had to be worse for the families. He hoped she wouldn’t have to sit through that for much longer.
As he waited, he tried to decide what to say to her. What could he say? Unlike Miss Suck-up at the studio, he handled funerals fine. He’d always been able to say something soothing and try to show that it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe for the body in the casket, it was. For everyone else, it was another step in the circle of life, and it happened. No use making a huge deal of it.
She had jumped him for that, as well. His ex. He was heartless, she said, after going with her to one of her distant relatives’ funerals, one she hardly knew and yet still made a huge fuss about. Hypocritical, he’d said, to never bother to see the great uncle when he was alive but to throw a fit because she couldn’t go see him even if she’d never decided to do so. Made her right furious for the longest time.
Do not make that mistake with Emma. At least convince her it matters to you that it hurts her.
Wouldn’t be hard to do, he expected. It did matter that she hurt. Why else would he have flown over here after she’d broken things off?
The large wooden doors opened and Fillan straightened. A few people drifted out into the yard. Somber-faced. Dressed in dark clothes, nice clothes, not cut off sweats. He wandered closer, to the edge of the little street, not crossing it yet to the yard where they stood. Not many. Had her sister not many friends? Not much family? Or had they not bothered? If it had been Emma, would she have a bigger flock around her to see her off?
The thought of it made him hurt and he shook it off to wander closer. A couple of people glanced over at him, their expressions caustic, as though he were intruding. He guessed he was. He hadn’t been invited. Another small group filtered out. The dance group. One of them saw him and came to him, scanned his clothes, rambled...
But Fillan didn’t hear her. Emma was there, in a dark blue straight dress, unembellished, but striking on her figure. An older couple was with her, somber but composed. Her parents, he guessed. The woman looked like her. And a man. Her age but adding a few years. With a hand on her back. Her brother? She’d mentioned... No, Fillan spotted her brother. He looked like her, as well. But harder.
The guy touching her spoke into her ear. She didn’t acknowledge him.
Fillan found himself creeping closer, crossing the street into the funeral home yard. Should he? The student beside him said something about his clothes, he should have dressed better, it was disrespectful...
But Emma lifted her chin at something the guy with her said and spotted him. She held Fillan’s gaze. He held his position. Waiting to see, from her reaction, what he should do. Stay or go? Give her a quick I’m sorry and head away? He didn’t want to head away. He wanted to offer his arm, his shoulder, whatever she wanted.
The guy followed her gaze, said something to her, which she also didn’t acknowledge. Emma walked away from him, away from the brother who looked to be asking where she was going, and came straight up to Fillan. She didn’t speak. She stared, a curiosity mixing with her grief.
“I just now heard. Went to class...” He motioned toward his clothes. “And they said... I am sorry, Emma. How are you doing? Where is Patty? Is she alright?”
She looked about to answer, but her eyes misted and she threw her arms over his shoulders and buried her face between her arm and his jaw. Her body heaved.
“Oh Em, I am so sorry. What can I do?” He held her close.
Still silent, she calmed, somewhat.
“Emma?” The guy who’d been touching her stood behind her, eyeing Fillan. “Someone you know?” He scanned him with that same scornful look Fillan had caught from the first to see him.
She drew back, wiped her eyes as she hid them from the guy, and pulled herself back to her earlier composure. But she kept his arm. Her fingers were tight, as though for support. “Thank you. For coming. I didn’t expect to see you.”
Was it a hint to leave? While she was clinging to his arm? “I would have been sooner if I had known. And dressed, as well.”
A light grin graced her face. “This is nice, really. All of this black... she would have hated it. She would be telling us to lighten up, laugh...” A catch in her throat made her stop.
“And that is why you are in blue instead.”
“Yes, but she’d still tell me I should have worn ... tie dye or ... bright yellow. Maybe I should have, but could you imagine the talk?”
“It would hardly be appropriate.” The touching guy again. “Emma, they’re bringing the casket out. We should go.” He thr
ew a look at Fillan. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Fillan wondered if he would excuse a punch right into his smug jaw.
Emma glanced at him but kept her attention on Fillan. “Thank you, again. I ... I’m glad you came.” Whatever else she was trying to say was cut off by commotion. Patty. Her grandfather held her but she didn’t want to be held. She reached out for Emma.
Emma slid her hand down his arm, to his fingers, with a squeeze, and said she had to go. The girl calmed as soon as she was in Emma’s arms.
“Since she didn’t introduce us...” The touching guy moved to block his view. “I’m Mark Turner, Emma’s husband.”
Husband. “Ex husband, yes?” Fillan nearly caught himself before he said it.
“Technically. At the moment. That might change again. And you are?”
“I am ... a friend of hers.”
“Have a name?”
Don’t box him in the jaw here, Fillan. Em won’t likely appreciate you making a scene at her sister’s funeral. He considered saying: No, I have no name. I’m invisible to Bostonians as I hear my ancestors were. But he decided to play nice. For the moment. He introduced himself with a strong accent and stuck out a hand. Purposely.
The guy hesitated and looked at it like it might be diseased, but he finally took it. “Yes. Well.” His tight grip was a warning. “If you’ll excuse us, we are having a funeral. You should leave now and let us get on with it.”
Don’t box him in the jaw, Fillan. Don’t do it.
As he decided whether or not he should, a little hand touched his arm. Patty looked up into his face and tugged at him.
“Hey, Patty Cake. It is good to see you. How are you?”
“She doesn’t talk. Probably doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.” Mark Turner gave the girl a scoffing look.
“Of course she does.” Emma rubbed Patty’s hair. “Look who came to see you. Should we ask him to stay and sit with us? Would you like that?”
“Emma...”
“Mark, this is not your business arrangement. You aren’t making the calls here. I am.” Emma raised her chin and turned to Fillan. “Can you? Patty nearly yanked my arm off when I told her you were here and she saw you. It would help her deal with...” She stopped again.
“I can, but I am not dressed for...”
“I don’t care. Really.” Her eyes pleaded.
Her husband pulled his shoulders back. “Emma, I think this is inappropriate. Mr. Reilly, if you wouldn’t mind...” He took Fillan’s arm and tried to nudge him away.
“Take your hand off me now before y’ have more trouble than you want.” Fillan eyed him. Maybe the asshole was bigger, but he wasn’t an Irish scrapper.
“Is that a threat?” The hand tightened.
“Release him.” Emma pushed the ex. “Now.”
The look the guy gave her made Fillan come within hair-splitting of actually splitting the guy’s hair. This was her ex? Why in the hell would she do this?
“Mark, I will have you thrown out of here if you cause trouble for me today.” Emma’s voice was shaky, but firm. Her face showed both resolve and ... a touch of fear. Patty pulled at her, away from the ex.
“That would be a mistake, Emma.”
“Don’t do this today. Would you please just not do this today?”
Patty pulled harder.
“I would love to sit with you and Patty.” Fillan pulled her attention back and offered his arm. “Anything I can do to help, I am glad to do.”
Her eyes told him she understood his offer. If hair-splitting was needed, he was the man for the job and would do so willingly. And happily.
Emma was exhausted. Not only from the two days of sitting with Helen as she finally gave up, and then sitting up with Patty as she tried to understand the implications of losing her mom and moving into Emma’s house permanently. But more from Mark showing up at the funeral. He wasn’t invited. He shouldn’t have been there. Between receiving condolences at the gathering after the funeral and trying to force coffee and cut veggies into her system to keep it functioning, she’d reflected on Mark’s threat. It was a threat. He was angry with her for letting Fillan stay, for taking his side.
But he had no right. They were divorced. She could damn well do what she pleased with Fillan. By this time, she wished she had.
And she’d been so glad to see him there, she could hardly contain herself. She hadn’t. Her parents were disappointed at her lack of control. They were all about control. Don’t show it. Whatever it is, don’t show it. Patty’s outbursts embarrassed them to no end and it only made Patty worse because she could tell. They said she didn’t, but they were wrong.
Emma looked over at where her niece sat in a cloth looped swing with Fillan in the one beside her. The girl hadn’t left his side since he arrived. Most everyone else was gone by now and she was glad for that. She wanted to go home, to take Patty and settle in... And she wanted him to come with, to see them home, to sit with her.
Could she ask? She’d told him to leave, nearly shoved him out. And yet he was there when she needed him most.
“So who is that guy?”
Her heart jumped at Mark’s voice behind her. Too close behind her.
“Not really your standards, is he?”
She turned to the gloating face. “No. Actually, he’s above my standards, or at least where my standards used to be. I’ve changed them lately.”
He glowered behind the sarcastic grin and took her elbow. “Emma, I’ve talked with a full time care center willing to take the girl. It’s only a couple of hours away. You can visit now and then...”
“No.”
He stepped closer. “We can go back to where we were. Now that she’s yours, it’s your call. She’ll be better off there. So will you.”
“No. Mark, no. She won’t... I won’t do it. Just because you...” A thought struck her. “Is that why you’ve been coming around again lately? You knew Helen was at the end? You were just waiting...”
“This shouldn’t be your responsibility. You know that as well as I do. Just because your sister made bad choices...”
“Patty is not my responsibility...”
“As I said...”
“No, I mean...” Emma looked over at the girl. Her head was slumped, as were her shoulders. But Fillan was talking to her and she at least dug her toes into the dirt enough to rock the swing back and forth. “She’s not just a responsibility, Mark. She’s my niece. Now... now she’s my daughter. My daughter. Do you get that? She’s mine. She stays with me. Not because she was pushed on me; because I want her. I love her and she is mine.”
“You would love your own more if you’d let yourself try.”
“No. Not more. And maybe someday I will. Not with you. Goodbye Mark. You should go now. It’s time for us to go home.” She started away.
He gripped her elbow tighter. “I’m paying for that house you’re living in. Don’t forget that.”
“Through the divorce settlement. You can’t renege.”
He grinned, a horrible sarcastic grin. “That’s only valid while you’re single.”
“I am single.”
“For our purposes, single means unattached, Emma. If I find any evidence of that ... dancer staying there with you, the deposits stop. No questions asked. You might remember that.”
She yanked away. “He’s not.”
“Good. So how about I take you to dinner tonight? She can stay with your brother. He’s agreed. He thinks you’d be wise to put Patty in the center I found, by the way, and go back to your own life.”
“Get away from me. Just leave.” Again wrenching away from his grip, she strode away, to Fillan. She just... She needed to be beside him.
The deposits would stop. Fine. Let them. She’d... She couldn’t pay for Patty’s day care and the house without it. With Helen’s non-existent income, she was getting help for her daughter. But Emma had a job. She had income. She wouldn’t get the same help. She’d have to either take Patty out of
the school she knew that knew how to help her or move to a small apartment if Mark stopped her divorce settlement. He knew that. He knew far too much. She’d trusted him, as she thought she was supposed to. A bad move.
Or she could move her parents in with her and their social security could help pay the mortgage. There wasn’t room for them all in her parents’ place. It could work in hers. But then it wouldn’t be hers. And she still couldn’t have Fillan stay there with her.
With a deep breath, she went over to Patty and asked if she was ready to go home. The girl looked up at her and down again, tracing her tennis shoe toe in the dirt. “Come on, sweetie. It’s been a really long week, hasn’t it? Don’t you want to come get settled?” Emma offered a hand. About the time she figured Patty wasn’t going to accept it and go easily, she put her fingers in Emma’s and stood, her head still ducked.
“You know you’re staying with me from now on, right?” She didn’t get an answer and didn’t expect one, and ran a hand over Patty’s brown hair. Her grandmother had insisted it get trimmed before the funeral, so it would look nice. Emma argued, said she was upset enough and it would wait, but her mother claimed her rights until after the funeral when Patty moved out of their house. The poor girl had been so shaken, Patty had to stay there, at her parents’ house, all night just to try to soothe her.
No more of that. Things were changing. If she could stand up to Mark as she had, she could stand up to her parents, as well. “You want to tell Fillan goodbye before we go?”
He stood next to them and caught Emma’s eyes. “Can I see that you get home alright?”
“Oh.” She nearly said yes, please do, but Mark was nearby. Listening, she imagined. “No, thank you. I’m glad you came. I truly appreciate it, but she needs to settle in. So do I. It’s been...” She held back her emotions again, as she’d been taught. But she took his hand just for a moment. “Thank you.”
Fillan sat in the car and considered Turner’s words. Threats. The man wanted Emma back. She was too cowed by him. And she sure as hell looked like she wanted Fillan to see her home.