So Dark the Night

by Margaret Daley

  “Sorry, Dad. I’m starved. I could smell Aunt Grace’s pie out on the lawn.” Tiffany took a plate down from the cabinet and sliced into the pie.

  “Hey, did you have lunch today?”

  Tiffany, the older of the two by four minutes, threw him a quizzical look. “Of course, Dad. I don’t skip lunch like some of us in the room.” Her narrowed eyes zoomed in on him.

  He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

  Amber plopped down at the kitchen table with a tall glass of iced tea. “How is she?”

  Seated across from his subdued, quiet daughter, he answered, “Miss St. James is doing as well as to be expected.”

  “When do we get to meet her? I can’t believe Marlena Howard’s daughter is staying here!” Tiffany joined them at the table with her huge piece of pie and a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.

  “Child, you definitely take after your father. You must have a hollow leg, too.” Grace busied cleaning up after the whirlwind known as Tiffany.

  “I’m on the track team.”

  “Ah, that must be it. You’re skinny as a rail.” Grace sat in the last chair across from Amber.

  Colin noticed Amber studying her glass as though it had a written message on it. Unlike Tiffany, Amber put on weight easily and was carrying an extra fifteen pounds. She was constantly dieting but rarely losing. Although they were identical twins, Amber and Tiffany were like night and day. They even wore their dark brown hair differently, with Amber’s long and pulled back into a ponytail most of the time while Tiffany’s was short and feathered about her face, emphasizing her large gray eyes.

  “Dad, when can we meet her?” Tiffany asked, not forgetting what she really wanted to know. “I’ve read about her in People magazine. She knows a lot of movie stars. She takes all their photos. She’s as famous as they are.”

  “You’ll meet her when she’s ready. Not a moment sooner, so don’t you go charging in there like you own this house.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  “Don’t use that with me. It won’t work. I only get ‘Daddy’ when you’re trying to wheedle something out of me.” It took a supreme effort to keep from smiling at Tiffany. She had him wrapped around her finger and they both knew it. But not this time. Emma needed to move at her own pace. And she certainly didn’t need to be caught up in the drama that usually followed Tiffany around like a lost puppy.

  A crashing sound disturbed the quiet. Rising, Colin rushed from the kitchen, hoping that Emma was all right. He found her in the hallway outside her bedroom, standing next to a vase smashed into pieces on the hardwood floor. As she stared at her shoes, confusion and frustration washed over her features. He strode forward, stepping around the shards shattered into many fragments about Emma. She looked up. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and his heart cracked.

  “I—” She cleared her throat and continued, “I didn’t mean to break it.” Her forehead furrowed deeper into a frown. “What did I break?”

  His first impulse was to take her into his embrace and hold her tight to him, to ease her hurt, more of the soul than anything else. But instinctively he knew she would reject it and her anger would surge to the foreground.

  “It’s nothing.” He stopped in front of her and bent to clean up the pieces of the vase Amber had made for Grace last Christmas.

  “It didn’t sound like nothing. It sounded big. What was it?”

  “A vase.”

  “Valuable?”

  “No, not in so many words.”

  “I can write a check for whatever the cost was. I can at least replace it.”

  He put the broken pieces on the table. “No need.”

  “Yes, there’s a need. I can pay whatever it takes to replace it.”

  The frantic ring to her words riveted his full attention to Emma. Her bottom lip quivered as she blinked to rid her eyes of the tears. “There’s no price because my daughter made the vase in ceramics class for Grace.”

  “Oh, it’s worse than I thought.” She averted her face, swiping her hand across her cheeks.

  “It was an accident, Emma. Nothing more, nothing less. Amber will understand and so will Grace. I talked with the sheriff. J.T. told me your purse wasn’t anywhere around the cabin or the grounds. They searched the woods between the highway to Central City and the cabin and only found your other shoe.”

  “Then the murderer has my purse,” she murmured, her eyes clouding.

  “Probably.”

  With his confirmation Emma grimaced as though the idea had finally sunk in.

  “Do you want to meet my daughters? They’re in the kitchen,” he said, wanting to take her mind off what had happened at the cabin, at least for a few minutes.

  Her chest expanded with a deep breath. “I don’t—”

  “Please. They would love to meet you.” He sensed she had spent enough time alone and needed to be around people to divert her thoughts.

  “Okay. I need to apologize to Grace and Amber.”

  Colin started to tell her she didn’t, then realized it would help ease Emma’s guilt over the vase. “Then let’s count the steps from the doorway of your bedroom to the kitchen. I’ll have the table removed today so you don’t have to worry about any obstacles in the hallway.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “No, but I will.”

  “I need to learn to maneuver around objects and furniture.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that.” He started toward the kitchen, counting the steps out loud.

  Twelve paces later Colin swung the door open. Then he counted off from the entrance to the table. “Amber and Tiffany, this is Emma St. James.” With his daughters saying hi, he pulled out a chair and put Emma’s hand on its back. As she sat, he continued, “Amber is on your left, Tiffany is across from you and Grace is on your right.”

  Before the teenage girls could ask any questions, Grace said, “Sugar, are you all right? We heard something break. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

  “Just a bruised ego. I’m discovering I can’t do much on my own and, for someone who is very independent, that’s hard to swallow.”

  “Put your faith in the Lord. He’ll see you through.” Grace stood. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

  Colin noticed the tightening about Emma’s mouth at the mention of the Lord. A lost sheep, he thought and wondered if that was one of the reasons God had put her in the path of his car the other night.

  “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

  “You look different from the pictures I’ve seen,” Tiffany said, drawing Emma’s attention to his oldest daughter.

  Colin shook his head, trying to get Tiffany’s attention. She purposefully ignored him, settling her chin in her palm, her elbow on the table as she leaned toward Emma with the determination to discover whatever she could about the woman.

  “I can just imagine. I usually straighten this mess of curls. Haven’t had a chance lately, and I’m wearing my hair longer now.”

  “You have met some really famous people. Can you tell us—”

  Colin gave up the indirect approach and said, “Tiffany, that’s enough. I believe you’ve got some homework to do.” He hoped his features were arranged in a stern enough expression to convey his intent.

  “Not much, Daddy. Really. I—”

  “Tiffany!”

  “Oh, all right. Fine.” She pushed to her feet, peering at Amber. “Coming?”

  She rose.

  “Amber, I need to talk to you for a sec.” Emma shifted her attention to his quiet younger daughter, whose eyes widened at the mention of her name.

  “Yes?” Amber mumbled, shock still on her face.

  “I’m afraid I ran into the table in the hallway and broke the vase you made for your aunt. Is there any way I can make it up to you or you, Grace?”

  “That’s okay. Accidents happen.” Grace put one of the apple pies into a plastic container for Tiffany to take home.

  “Are you sure?”

&n
bsp; “Yes, Miss St. James. Aunt Grace is right. I can make another one for her. Don’t worry about it.” Amber’s words rushed out until she ended in a breathless gasp.

  Tiffany went racing out of the kitchen when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she called from the hallway.

  “Are you two sure there isn’t anything I can do?”

  Both Grace and Amber answered at the same time, “Yes.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Tiffany, wearing a huge grin, entered with Marlena Howard right behind her.

  Before anyone could say anything, Emma’s mother swept across the room, saying, “Darling, I was frantic when the hospital staff told me you’d left. Thankfully, that kind nurse told me where you’d gone.”

  Emma tensed. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to take you home.”

  Tiffany put the pie container on the counter and relaxed against it while Amber sidled toward her. Colin tried to catch Tiffany’s attention, but she again refused to look his way. Instead, she stared with adoring eyes at Emma’s mother, a silly grin still on her face.

  “I’m staying with Grace.”

  “You can’t! They aren’t family.”

  Emma clamped her teeth together to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. Family had never mattered much before to her mother, so why did it now? “Mother, you won’t change my mind.”

  The sound of feet shuffling and a chair scraping across the floor emphasized Emma’s disadvantage. She didn’t really know what was going on. She felt as though every eye in the room was on her, and she avoided the limelight whenever she could, which was nearly impossible with the parents she had.

  “Would you like something to drink? Water?” Grace asked.

  “No, no, I’ll be all right in a moment.”

  Her mother’s answer sent Emma’s blood boiling. No doubt Marlena Howard had put on a performance for the Fitzpatricks. She was so good at that. “Mother, you won’t get your way. I’m staying here.”

  “Excuse me. Emma, my daughters and I need to leave,” Colin said.

  “I’ll walk y’all to the door,” Grace said.

  The idea of her being alone with her mother compelled Emma to say, “Don’t leave. Mother isn’t staying, and I still have some things to talk to you about, Colin.” If she could have seen Colin, she would have grabbed his hand to keep him in the room. Instead, all she saw was a black void, and when she thought about it, panic overwhelmed her. She experienced that out-of-control feeling she went to great lengths to avoid.

  “Fine, but my two daughters have homework that needs to be done, now.”

  By his emphasis on the word now, Emma was sure there was a silent message being passed between father and daughters.

  “Do I have to?”

  That was Tiffany, Emma thought. Her voice was bold, full of confidence, while her sister’s wasn’t.

  “Yes, you have to.”

  “Then can I have your autograph?”

  “Tiffany Fitzpatrick! This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  “Go.”

  Emma hid her smile behind her hand. The sound of the door swinging closed followed the stomping footsteps across the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Colin said, exasperation in his voice.

  “That’s okay.” Emma sensed Colin sitting down at the table, and relief trembled through her. She wouldn’t be alone to face her mother. Normally it wasn’t a problem, but she felt at such a disadvantage.

  “What are you going to do about Derek’s funeral? Are you going?” her mother asked in the heavy silence.

  Emma stiffened, clenching her hands in her lap. “Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “What am I to think? You don’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Patience, Emma thought and waited a full ten seconds before saying, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m doing what I need to do for myself.”

  “How are you getting to the funeral?”

  Emma glanced down, not sure how to answer her. The silence in the room lengthened until her nerves stretched to their limit.

  “I’m taking her.”

  She swung her attention toward Colin. “You don’t have to. He’ll be buried outside Central City. I can take a cab or something—”

  “No, I want to.”

  “How can you be so unfeeling, Emma? Grace, do you have anything strong to drink?” her mother asked in the melodramatic voice Emma knew too well.

  “Coffee and iced tea are all I have besides water.”

  Her mother huffed and must have stood up, from the sound the chair made across the tile. “I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’ll be at the inn for another night, and after the funeral tomorrow, I’m going back to the set.”

  Her mother’s angry footsteps grated down Emma’s spine as Grace showed Marlena out. Emma let the quiet extend for a few seconds before she said, “I’m sorry about that little scene, Colin. I didn’t mean to bring you and your family into the middle of our problems. And I meant what I said. I can take a cab to my brother’s—” Emotions she had fought since her mother had entered the room jammed her throat, closing off her words.

  Colin laid his hand over hers, still clasped tightly together in her lap. “I’m going to the funeral so I might as well let you tag along.”

  “Why?”

  “Personally I don’t like to go to funerals alone. That’s why.”

  “No, I mean, why are you going? You didn’t know my brother, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. I was going because of you. I didn’t want you to face the funeral alone.”

  The kindness in his voice touched her. She tried to picture him in her mind, but all she could see was a vague figure that was tall and muscular. She wanted to know more. As a photographer, visualizing a person had always been so important to her. “What color hair do you have?”

  “Black.”

  “Eyes?”

  “Gray.”

  “Is your hair long?”

  “No, short and straight.”

  “Are you nice looking?”

  Colin chuckled. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

  “I’m trying to see you in my mind. I don’t want you to be faceless.” All her life she had worked in a world that revolved around the visual aspects of life. She saw things in her mind as though they were a still photo or a moving picture. Not being able to do that with Colin bothered her.

  “I’m just an average Joe. Nothing special about me. Sorry I can’t be of more use.”

  For a few seconds she thought of asking him to let her touch his face and try to discern his features through her fingertips. But that seemed too intimate a gesture to her, and she wasn’t even sure if she could tell anything by doing it. So for the time being she would have to be satisfied with a faceless man with short black hair and gray eyes.

  The overcast day reflected the mood of the crowd attending Derek St. James’s funeral at Central City Cemetery. The new leaves on the trees flapped in the brisk, cool wind while the scent of freshly mowed grass laced the air. Colin walked around his SUV and opened the passenger’s door to assist Emma from his vehicle.

  Her drawn, pinched features held an ashen cast to them. Before leaving the confines of his car, she donned a pair of sunglasses even though the sun was hidden by a thick layer of roiling gray clouds. She clasped his upper arm and walked close to him toward the people crowded around the grave site.

  “We have about twenty feet to go. There’s a curb in front of you.” Colin slowed as she stepped up.

  Emma came to a stop. “Describe what you see. Do you know anyone in attendance? Any press?”

  “No, I think your father has effectively taken care of any photographers or reporters. There is a large tent with several rows of chairs for their guests. Your mother is standing on one side of the casket and your father is on the other. Each of them has an entourage around them. I see J.T. is here with M
adison Spencer, the detective from the state police.”

  Emma leaned close and whispered, “Checking to see if anyone looks suspicious, no doubt. Do you really think the murderers would be here?”

  Colin stared at J.T. and Madison, both scanning the faces of the people in the crowd. “They’re certainly watching everyone. Hey, you said murderers. How do you know there was more than one? Did the sheriff say anything to you?”

  She shook her head slowly, swinging around to face him. “No, but I know there was more than one person.” Her brow scrunched up. “I don’t know how. I just do.” She stared off into space a long moment, then added, “But there’s nothing else. Was there more than one person?”

  “J.T. thinks there may have been, judging from the footprints at the side of the road where the shot that hit you came from. I suppose some of the footprints could have nothing to do with the person who shot you.”

  “Maybe.” Again her eyebrows slashed down as she became lost in thought. “No, definitely there was more than one person involved.”

  Colin patted her hand, which was clutching his arm. “Good. That’s a start. Your memory will come back.”

  “You know, Reverend, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to remember.”

  “I know. You’ll heal in God’s time.”

  His reference to the Lord reminded her of what Colin did for a living. They were so different. She needed him for the time being, but she had every intention of taking back her life, and God had nothing to do with it.

  Colin tensed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Both of your parents are heading toward you.”

  FIVE

  “Are my parents together?” Emma asked, straightening beside Colin, not far from Derek’s grave site.

  “No, they’re doing their best to ignore each other.”

  No matter how much oxygen she drew into her lungs, there wasn’t enough to calm the racing of her heart. She tightened her clammy grip on Colin’s arm, glad that she wore sunglasses to conceal her eyes. When her mother chose to look beyond herself, she was uncanny at zeroing in on others’ emotions and playing on them. She didn’t want her mother to expose her any more than she already was.