Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé)

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “I just got a damn Masters degree. I’d say I’m making something of myself.”

  “Emma Nichols. Tone.” He lets a lot slide, but disrespecting my mom isn’t something my dad tolerates.

  I nod. “I’m ready to show you the town. Let’s go.”

  The rest of the day is strained. I try to fake it, showing them the places I frequent, the must-see tourist attractions, nothing works. We’re all prickling with something looming under the surface, waiting for it to blow.

  I say goodbye, telling them I’ll visit. Lie.

  I call Holly and inform her of my plans.

  “I don’t care what is happening when I get married. You’d better fly your skinny ass home and be my maid of honor.”

  I laugh. “Holly, the day you settle down and quit making that boy chase you, I’ll be on the next flight.” She’ll be forty still hemming and hawing about marriage and settling down.

  “You’ll eat your words, Emma.”

  “I’ll dip them in ketchup.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, Hols. You could come visit.” I don’t broach the subject of the girl in the picture.

  She’s beautiful.

  She’s happy.

  She’s making him smile.

  She’s my upgrade…my replacement.

  If I don’t know her name, she can be a figment of my imagination. If I don’t know the details, it can all be ignored.

  But it’s not. Day after day. Night after night. I dream. I cry. I wake longing for him. I was going to say I’m sorry. I was going to beg for forgiveness, but I refuse to strip his happiness . . . twice.

  Scoring the interview was the first step in creating my life here. Getting the position is the difficult task.

  “Why does this field interest you, Ms. Nichols?” The President of the company, Mr. Ludz, inquires.

  “Since I saw first hand how social work contributes to any situation, I was intrigued. Whether it’s for the sick, the families, or in this case the blending of families . . . it matters. It’s relevant and one of the most substantial parts of adoption. I saw loss; I decided I wanted to help families grow. International adoption is an intricate process. Rules and laws in each country vary in aspects.”

  “And you said your focus was same-sex couples. You know that can get tricky, it’s not cut and dry.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Mr. Ludz. I understand everyone isn’t accepting of the lifestyle, but I want to show them it’s just love. There’s no right or wrong.”

  “Tell me how you would broach this topic to a client or adoptive mother not on board with same-sex couples? Sell me.”

  “Love is a square peg being forced into a round hole. It doesn’t fit because it’s not the same for each person. Some love is convenient, some is passionate. Some lasts, some fizzles. The meaning of love is universal, but what it means to you is unique. Who makes the rules? Who sets the parameters? Isn’t love supposed to bridge gaps, expand over years, and have no boundaries? Only you can decide what love means to you, what you’ll sacrifice for it, what rewards you’ll reap from it. But if you want your child taken care of, loved, guided . . . there isn’t another couple that knows adversity and how to overcome it better than same-sex couples.”

  He sits back and stares at me. “That’s quite powerful. Your voice conveyed your message, you believe in it, and that’s what we need here.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ludz. I will work hard, and it will be my honor to help families unite.”

  “Go to HR and get your paperwork. I’d like you to start next week if that works.”

  “Perfectly.”

  “I’d like you to talk to some other staff members, teach them what you just taught me.”

  “Let me know.”

  That’s the thing with love.

  It’s not black and white.

  It’s not one-way or the other.

  It’s bendable, not moldable.

  It’s forgiving and forgetting.

  It’s yours and should be cherished.

  I’ve heard many people say, ‘If my significant other cheated, I’d leave.’ That’s easier said than done because if you’re not in that situation you don’t know what you’d do. Trust may be broken, but love isn’t. You can’t turn it off. Trust is a part of love, but you can love without trust. Trust is earned, but love is just given.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  William

  Months of academic and physical exercises come to a close. Today I graduate from the police academy. My work is far from over; next is field training. In the academy, our training is in a controlled environment. We haven’t had the opportunity to get firsthand experience. The in-the-moment decisions, ethical issues, real-life scenarios were all staged, so we all need to learn in direct situations.

  I don’t know where I want to hang my hat, what specialty I want to pursue, or if I want to be a beat officer. These months in the field will decide for me. Being in a small town, we don’t have a lot of crime, but we are outsourced to other divisions, departments and districts; it’s all hands on deck when needed.

  Blake is sitting with my family, Luke and Phoebe included. Since their return from visiting Emma, they’ve been scarce. I didn’t ask where she was, but James said she took a job out of state, and they wanted her home. I can’t blame them; I want her home, too. I want to show her how hard I’ve worked, what I’ve accomplished, how far I’ve come.

  I did all of this for me, but also for her. I was the man she was supposed to spend her life with, and I wanted to give her everything I could. Make her proud. Make her smile. Make her mine. I didn’t have to lose her to realize what I had; I’ve known that since we were kids.

  “Congrats, brother.” Blake hugs me. “Miss you.”

  He graduated a few months ago, and he took a job in Athens. He is only an hour from here, but neither of us made the trip. He sensed I needed to settle, and I knew he’d be there when I was ready. “Missed you. It’s time to end my exile.”

  “Hell yes.” He fist bumps the air and Elise giggles. I see his eyes scan her, and I punch him in the arm.

  “No.” One word. Simple. To the point. He’d be smart to heed that warning, I carry a gun.

  “Easy man.” He’s still studying her, and I don’t like it. I don’t care if he’s my friend and a good guy. She’s my sister, and I’m making up for lost time. I took her to Six Flags last month; she’d never been to an amusement park. For being an adult, she’s still rather childlike.

  After lunch, I head to the pub with Blake to catch up. “Hate to bring up a sore subject, but what’s happening with the case?”

  I halt with the beer halfway to my mouth. “Shit. It went to shit. Prosecutor said the only witnesses weren’t credible. James because he’s my parent, though he was the victim. Emma was out of state, and the expense of bringing her home wasn’t one the state was willing to pay for. He got off with a misdemeanor, time served.”

  “That’s shitty. I can’t fucking believe it. You run into him?”

  “Nah, last time I beat his ass he decided to keep a low profile. I don’t have that liberty anymore, but I’m hoping he’s moved.”

  “Seth?”

  “Not since the first court date. He’s off the grid.”

  “Good. Not the outcome, but the fact they aren’t causing trouble.”

  “It was hard to accept, but we worked through it as a family.”

  “Emma?”

  “No clue.”

  “You don’t ask?”

  “I can’t. Two years, man. Two years she’s stayed away. That speaks volumes to me.”

  “Yet you haven’t moved on?”

  “How do you move on from her? The girl you were destined for, the girl you gave everything to?”

  “You don’t.”

  “I don’t. But it’s harder and harder to hold on to a ghost.”

  “One way or another it’ll work out. You’ll meet someone, or she’ll remove her head from her ass and come home.�
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  “Or I’ll stay miserable without her, and she’ll live her life with someone else.”

  “I can’t see that, but I didn’t see y’all ending. I don’t know shit.”

  “I’m a member of that club.”

  “It sucks.”

  I clink my beer with his. “It does my friend. It sure as hell does.”

  Seeing the streets riddled with drugs, kids hooked on shit they didn’t understand until it was too late, families torn apart, houses looted, hookers looking for their next fix…it’s disgusting. It’s disheartening. The dealers revolting. The addiction confounding. My specialization area decided—narcotics.

  In a town this small and surrounding areas there is a shocking the amount of meth being sold. It’s like a war-torn country in some neighborhoods. Fathers sucked into the short term high. Kids looking for an escape. Women needing a stress relief. It becomes stronger; they become weaker. A cycle that will never be broken unless it’s stopped at the source, and I intend to do just that.

  Pinning my badge on my dress pants, holstering my weapon, grabbing my vest; I look in the mirror . . . one hundred percent proud of the man I am. It took a while, hurdles, obstacles, barricades; it was obtainable with hard work. I’d do the labor every day if my outcome was the man staring back at me. William Jacobs, son, brother, police officer in the division of narcotics.

  William Jacobs who still loves Emma Nichols.

  I just dropped Elise at the airport, and I’m late getting to the bullpen. She went home to visit her mom and make some decisions. I’d offer to sponsor her if she wanted to stay longer, become a citizen. As close as we’ve become, I understand this isn’t her home. Miles won’t break what we built, and I’m okay with whatever decision she makes.

  “Jacobs,” my sergeant calls.

  “Sir.” I’m waiting for my reprimand.

  “Office. Need some intel.” I turn and follow him in the office. “What do you know about these suspects?”

  I stare at the shots pinned to the wall. My past collides with my present. Threatens my future because I’m salivating for this case. I’m willing to give my left nut to take these smug bastards down. “Brian and Seth Gary.”

  “I know their names. I need to know about them.”

  “Smug. Unpredictable. Volatile. Not very smart. They are all about instant gratification. Haven’t seen or heard from them in a year or longer. Racial. Bigots. Always together. Where one is the other is close.”

  “Anything else? Weapons of choice?”

  “Their mouths and fists. Metal pipe. When I knew them they didn’t carry. They’re dangerous. Have nothing to lose. Lost it all a couple years ago.”

  “You help with that?”

  “I was part of it.” I meet his intense stare.

  “Good. We need you. You’re not lead, but you’re in this with us.”

  “Yes, sir.” I nod and walk to my desk, processing my feelings. I didn’t think they’d ever reach this low; they’ve sunk and there is no resurfacing this time. I’ll drown them. They thought they knew what it was like to lose everything; they knew nothing. They’d never had Emma Nichols. That was losing everything.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Emma

  Tossing the glasses down, I sigh. Three fucking years pass, and I’m summoned home. She sent me an itinerary of all my scheduled visits. Engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette party, wedding.

  I dial. “Hols, what the fuck? I can’t do all these trips.”

  She laughs. “You said you’d be on the first flight. Get packing.”

  “I’m not made of money. Do you have any idea what this is going to cost? Can’t you pick two, and I’ll be there.”

  “Nope. I talked to Daddy Warbucks before sending it to you. He assured me he’d cover your travel.”

  “Of course he did,” I sigh.

  “He offered to pay for the wedding if I could fit more dates in.” I don’t doubt it. A year of excuses, a year of stalling . . . it comes to an end in six weeks. Fuck. Me.

  “Okay, Hols. I’ll be there.”

  “You better.” I hang up and rub my tired eyes. My contacts irritate me, so I’ve switched back to glasses. I haven’t worn them since I was ten. He loved them. I thought he was going to flush my contacts down the toilet when I made the switch.

  I should have asked her if there was a chance I would see him. Of course there is, it’s a small fucking town. One I used to love. The one I dread returning to.

  I email Mr. Ludz with my requests for time off. I’ll make weekend trips so I can minimize the use of my vacation days. Pulling up flights, I use my dad’s credit card. Don’t offer if you aren’t going to follow through. Sad thing, he’d pay a million times more just for me to come home.

  I don’t get six weeks to prepare. I get four days.

  “Emma, you need to come home.” My dad’s voice comes down the line. It’s soft, reassuring, chilling.

  “I am. For Holly.”

  “No baby girl, today. Now. Something’s happened.” I listen to his words, my flight information he’s arranged, all with fear flooding my system. I missed so much time. I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. My body shakes, and I make my way to my supervisor. I feel like time is stopping, my heart slowing down to non-existent beats. Telling him the minimal, words hard to speak around the lump forming. I don’t hear his response; everything is muted but heightened.

  My flight seems to take an eternity. I haven’t moved from my seat, staring at the headrest in front of me. I told my dad I’d get a cab. He didn’t want to leave the hospital. I hesitate before opening the doors. A sense of déjà vu creeps in my system, different circumstances, different patients . . . same place, same fear.

  I tiptoe down the hall; if they don’t know I’m here, I don’t have to hear the updates. I don’t have to face the demise in front of me. I see Brett holding James up, Mom consoling them both, this loss won’t be overcome. My dad in the corner, his gaze unfocused, his hands in fists.

  I rush to him. I’m at a loss not knowing the circumstances but have nobody to blame but myself.

  Standing in my dad’s arms, my hand automatically goes to my necklace. Entwining it around my finger, releasing, twirling it again. It’s my comfort. He gave me the necklace for my sixteenth birthday . . . trying to charm me into canceling my first date with William Jacobs. The boy who owned my heart . . . the boy who broke it.

  I haven’t been home in three years, and I blame him. I’ve never wavered in that culpability until today. In this moment, it doesn’t seem to matter. I told him goodbye in this same hospital waiting room where I’m standing embraced by my father. Ironically, not much has changed from that scenario to this one. One life hangs in peril, yet again. The boy I gave everything to wasn’t the same I fled from. That day he destroyed my belief in him.

  He was cold.

  He was callous.

  He became a stranger right before my eyes.

  Today, I don’t know if it’s time or healing. Or fear . . . but I see things differently.

  “Daddy . . .” I look up to his red-rimmed eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

  “I know, Princess. No matter what we’ll get through it. Together.” His lips rest on the top of my head, and I breathe his scent, begging for the comfort it used to bring me.

  “I should have been here. I shouldn’t have run.”

  “Emma, we all do what we need to do. Nobody blames you.”

  “I do. These last years seem so wasted. I could have been here making memories. I could have been with you and Mom. Brett and James . . .” I refuse to admit William is included in that thought.

  “You can’t stop what’s happening. Nothing you could’ve done would have changed this.” I glance over to James, his head hung down, tears running unchecked down his cheeks. I’m not so sure my dad’s words absolve me. I believe that day three years ago set the course for this. I distanced myself, created a life that didn’t allow my past to enter; I created a fortress aro
und my newly erected reality. Life back home went to shit.

  Before I can go over to console James, the doctor comes in, and all of our attention is snapped to him . . . waiting with baited breath to hear the news.

  Life or death.

  Goodbye or hello.

  Forgiveness or blame.

  I’ll never forgive him or myself . . . if this is the end.

  Three years wasted.

  Three years away from my family.

  Three years of hate.

  Three years comes down to this moment.

  “Jacobs family?” The doctor looks at all of us; we’re all family in this moment.

  “The bullet nicked an artery, and we had to go in and repair it. We couldn’t find an exit wound but were able to recover the bullet. He’s being moved to a room in ICU. We’re being optimistically cautious, but he’s not out of the woods. His body went into shock during surgery, and we had to revive him twice. We’ll know more if he wakes up.”

  “When.” I demand.

  “Excuse me?” his voice curious.

  “You said if he wakes up, what you meant is when he wakes up.” He stares at me for a few moments.

  “Of course.” He exits, and I grip my dad’s arm.

  “What the hell happened?” He was shot. How does that happen?

  “William’s been with the narcotics division for several months,” Brett explains. A police officer? My Will.

  “I’m confused.”

  “There will be time to fill you in. For now, we concentrate on him.” I nod. My head spinning, my heart pumping wildly, my legs jelly. I sink into the chair trying to catch my breath.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  William

  Tingles shooting up my arm, my fingers are immersed in warmth scorched into my memory. I blink and the first thing I see are those cornflower blue eyes rimmed with glasses. The same eyes I’ve dreamt of as far back as I can remember.