Just Like Em

by Marion Ekholm

  Roger glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock! Why hadn’t he checked the time before calling? He was about to hang up, when Em said, “Hi, Roger. Mom said your computer crashed.”

  “No. It’s just a lost file. Listen, I’m sorry I called. It’s late and you have to go to work tomorrow.”

  “We both do. I may be able to help. What’s your address?”

  * * *

  EM BUSIED HERSELF in front of the bathroom mirror, removing the night cream she’d applied. She stifled a yawn. If it was nothing more than a lost file, she’d be back and in bed in no time. She fiddled with removing several curlers she’d put in before going to bed. The curls she’d planned for the next day would have to wait.

  “Aren’t you primping a lot just to fix a computer?”

  Em took a quick look at her mother leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. “I don’t want to look as though I just got out of bed, Mom. Give me a break.”

  “You planning to go au natural?”

  Em glanced down at the sleeveless T-shirt she used for sleeping. “I plan to change.” Her mother hadn’t shown this much interest in her attire since she was a teenager. Em glanced back at her mother, an edge to her reply. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  Doris chuckled as she turned away. “He still walks on water.”

  Em stopped and stared at her image. Was she giving Roger’s sudden need for her help too much importance? After all, more than ten days had gone by without a call. He had sent a card: a short, formal thank-you to tell her how much the boys had appreciated the swim party, the meal, and how much he’d appreciated her help. But nothing personal such as “I’d like to see more of you.”

  Something unknown, maybe common sense or karma, had kept her from taking that job with Roger. Close contact with him might have ended with her making a fool of herself. Too many of her friends had become involved in office romances and lived to regret it. Before she could reconsider and take the job Roger offered, she approached her boss and told him she’d like to accept the full-time position the company offered her. It was a done deal before the end of the week, with increased pay and eventual medical benefits for Sammy.

  Right now, thanks to their sons, she had a fragile friendship with Roger. She wasn’t about to ruin it and make a fool of herself. She’d provide the help he needed and get home as quickly as possible.

  Em brushed her hair roughly, enough to make it sting with static electricity. She found the sports bra she had discarded earlier, pulled on a clean T-shirt and slipped into shorts. With a quick look in the mirror, she decided even her mother would approve.

  * * *

  THE WHITE STUCCO walls glared under the porch light as Roger paced outside his front door. Nervousness churned in his stomach. What if she couldn’t recover his file? He told himself all this anxiety had to do with that possibility. He’d offer to pay her and usher her out.

  How much should he offer? Immaterial. Whatever she charged would be worth it. He’d pay for it himself if he couldn’t get reimbursed from petty cash. She was here to help him out of a jam. He hesitated. What if she felt offering her money was insulting?

  Karen, Karen, what should I do? His silent query went unanswered.

  The moment Em’s car pulled into the driveway, Roger ran off the porch and opened her door. “I want to get this clear from the start, Em. I’m hiring you in a consultant capacity. Name your price.”

  “Fine,” she said, stepping from the car.

  Fine? No argument, no negotiations? Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

  “Headache?”

  He opened his eyes. Em stood inches away. He took a deep breath and drew in her scent. Wrong move. “No,” he said, barely able to get the word out. “Can I take that for you?” As he reached for her bag, he brushed her hand and nearly dropped the computer.

  “Whoa, let me take that.” Em pulled it away from him. About to put his hand on Em’s back to direct her, he turned toward his house. The moment he saw Samantha standing at the door, looking every bit like her mother, he dropped his hand to his side.

  “Oh, I need your help desperately, Em,” Samantha said. She clasped her hands prayer fashion under her chin. “Dad won’t take me shopping, and I don’t have anything but rags to wear to school.”

  “Samantha, stop being so dramatic and get to bed.” Why was she still up? He pushed past her into the house. “I told you I’ll take you next weekend.”

  The girl uttered a strangled cry, shook her hands in the air and looked heavenward for help. How was he to deal with such antics? Couldn’t she cut him some slack? He faced a few more important crises than her lack of wardrobe.

  Em turned to him and said, “Why don’t I go upstairs with Samantha while you get me a drink? Iced tea if you have any.” She followed his daughter before he could offer a protest.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Em asked when they reached the bedroom on the second floor. The room, decorated in frills and lace, seemed too immature for someone who had given up smoking at thirteen.

  “Look at these.” Samantha picked up an armload of clothes that had been strewn across her bed and tossed them in the air. “They’re all out of style. I’ve grown two inches in the last year, and Dad hasn’t even noticed.”

  Samantha lowered her voice and glanced toward the open door. “Besides,” she said, pulling the bulky men’s shirt out at the bust line, “My boobs are getting bigger and nothing looks right.”

  “Um, well...” Em cleared her throat, and glanced around the room in an attempt to gather her thoughts. This was way beyond what she’d expected. This weekend. What plans had she made this weekend? She turned back to the girl. “I can take you shopping Saturday, but you have to clear it with your father, first.”

  Samantha threw her arms around Em and nearly strangled her. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see if I can get Daddy’s credit cards.”

  “My what?” Roger asked from the doorway. He held out a tall glass of iced tea to Em.

  While sipping the drink, she watched the adult and child move into their separate camps. She had no business interfering. Why hadn’t she gone straight to the computer and avoided this scene?

  “I told you I’d take you next week. You are not dragging Em away from her busy life.”

  The past few weeks of strain showed clearly on his face. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he spoke in hushed tones to his daughter. The whites of his eyes were no longer white but sunset pink. From Em’s perspective, he looked overworked, overtired and emotionally overextended.

  “Oh, but you can?” Samantha scowled at him, hands on her hips. “It’s eleven, Daddy. Why did you drag her over?”

  Em tried not to react to the innuendo. After all, Samantha was using every means possible to get her way. But Roger turned red as fury washed over his face. His jaw tightened. Had Samantha hit a nerve?

  “Why don’t you show me your computer, Roger? I’ll see if I can find that file.” Em headed out the door and paused in the hall. A moment later Roger joined her, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door shut with a force that rattled a picture on the wall.

  “That girl is going to drive me to the nut house.”

  For the time being, at least, further confrontation had been averted. Em felt so relieved she started to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “This is nothing. Just wait till she starts to drive. Then you’ll really get a ride to the nut house.”

  “No way.” The tension in his jaw slowly began to ease. “I’ll sell my car before I let her get behind the wheel.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN EM ENTERED Roger’s office, a room connected to the hall and family room, she saw a photo of Karen displayed on his desk, and several others hung on the wall above the file cabinets, along with those of the chil
dren.

  Fifteen years ago, Em had hated that woman. If Karen hadn’t dominated Roger’s time, he might have paid more attention to her. A stupid idea, Em realized. Why would any college student look at an awkward fourteen-year-old, especially when he had a beautiful girlfriend so handy?

  Em’s animosity had diminished over the years, but not totally. She propped her computer case in front of the desk picture to keep it out of view.

  While she worked to find his lost information, memories of Samantha’s insinuation kept troubling Em and destroying her concentration. Why had Roger waited until so late in the evening to call her? Did he have ulterior motives? Was he attracted to her?

  The idea excited and frightened her at the same time. If these thoughts hadn’t ruined her focus, she might have finished the job in half the time. Even so, it took fewer than fifteen minutes for Em to capture all the missing information and save it to Roger’s desktop.

  “I’m impressed,” Roger said when she’d completed the task.

  Was the pleasure in his eyes only because of her having saved his file? Once again that hank of hair falling over his forehead made her fingers itch to push it back. The late hour must be getting to her.

  Em stood and collected her things, as Roger reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  “I’ll send you a bill. I like to keep accurate records for my income tax.”

  “You do this a lot? Troubleshoot computer problems?” he said as he returned his wallet and walked into the hall.

  “Yes. It’s something I learned after one of the times I was laid off. The company provided computer lessons for us to hone our skills.”

  “Another thing I should consider.”

  She followed him into the hall and nearly collided with him when he stopped in front of the staircase.

  He glanced up. “They should be asleep.” When he backed away, still keeping an eye on the upstairs landing, she followed quietly. He ushered her past the staircase and through the doorway onto the porch. She stopped short when the overhead light went off. Roger closed the door behind them, cutting off the hallway light. Why had he done that? She could break her neck if she tried to maneuver down the steps in the dark.

  “I think Samantha’s finally gone to sleep.”

  Em turned and tried to read his expression, but her eyes hadn’t had enough time to adjust to the dimness. Now that they were out of the air-conditioned house, the night air surrounded her like a warm blanket.

  “I want to apologize,” he said.

  “Could you do it with the light on? I’m afraid to move.”

  “Sure, but it will attract bugs. I’ll turn it on again in a minute so you can get off the porch. I’m sorry for my actions back there. When I blew my top.”

  “You’re apologizing to the wrong girl.”

  “I know and I’ll talk to her later. I don’t usually lose my temper so quickly,” he continued in a whisper. “It’s just—I feel I’m in a pressure cooker ready to explode. I don’t have enough time—for my work, for my family.” He paused and sighed. “And I’m wasting an ungodly amount of it daydreaming.”

  As her eyes adjusted, Em could see him leaning against the house, his hands behind his back. When she lost her job, her own fears and insecurities had produced nightmares. She could have used a friend, a confidant to help her through the difficult times.

  Roger was about to share something of himself in this intimate cloak of darkness, and she didn’t want to miss any of it. Em placed her computer bag and purse near a wrought-iron bench and moved closer to him.

  “Nightmares can...”

  “Not nightmares, daydreams,” he said, pushing away from the wall. He moved over to the bench and indicated she should take a seat. “I’ve been daydreaming about you taking a job as my assistant.” He sat down next to her.

  “That’s impossible. I...” He still wanted her to work for him? He needed her that much? Maybe she should reconsider.

  “I know. I know. It’s just...none of the displaced people are working out. They don’t have the computer skills needed. Oh, they can do the programs the company provides, but they can’t cut and paste or create a proper letter.” He paused. “How did you receive your initial training?”

  What had started as a clandestine meeting with lights out and murmurs had turned into nothing more than a request for information. Em relaxed as all her romantic thoughts dissipated. She took a deep breath and began. “The head of our department invested in PC-training tapes. We took two-hour classes after work in the education department, where they had banks of computers.”

  “I could do that,” Roger replied. “We have an in-house training center. I knew you’d have all the answers.”

  The words, whispered near her ear, sucked all the breath from her lungs. “That’s me,” she said, when she could find her voice, “a walking encyclopedia.”

  When he didn’t add anything, she continued, “I also took courses at a local college that gave me extra skills. If I ever have more opportunities, I plan to take additional courses, possibly go into that field.”

  Moving ever so slightly, Em turned to face him. They were barely inches from each other as a light flicked on. They jumped apart. Em’s foot hit her laptop, sending it skittering. She started after it.

  “So, Dad, is she taking me shopping or not?” Samantha leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest, the exact image of Karen.

  “How long have you been behind that door?”

  “Long enough.” She glared at him. A guilt Roger never anticipated made him wither under her gaze. He closed his eyes to shut off that stare. It was as though he had been caught cheating on Karen. It was a stupid, senseless thought, but one he couldn’t suppress.

  And Samantha knew she had found something to hold over his head. Blackmail, that’s what it was. He had to give up his weekend camping with his sons, or his daughter would hold this transgression over him for the rest of her life.

  “All right,” he said, opening his eyes, “We’ll go Saturday morning.”

  “I’d rather go with Em.”

  He couldn’t win. Every time he agreed to one of her demands, Samantha switched to something new. He was about to lay the law down, once and for all, when Em touched his arm.

  “It’s okay. I enjoy shopping. Why don’t you let me take her?”

  Had he heard correctly? Em volunteered for what had to be the closest thing to hell—shopping in a mall on Saturday, when zillions of people needed to get prepared for school. She was too helpful. How could he ever pay her back?

  “You won’t bring your son,” Samantha said as she stepped onto the porch.

  “Of course not.” Em chuckled, a delightful sound that helped relieve the tension pulsating through Roger. “He hates shopping. My mother can watch him.”

  Both of them turned to Roger and waited. He ran his hands through his hair while he considered his alternatives. Em could solve a major problem for him, providing she controlled Samantha’s spending. But what could he do in return? He snapped his fingers as a solution came to him.

  “Fine. You can take my daughter for the day, if I can take your son for the weekend.” Before she could protest, he continued, “Harve and I are taking our boys camping in Prescott, where it’s cool. We have plenty of room for Sammy, and they all get along so well. How about it?” He scrutinized his daughter with a no-nonsense scowl. “That’s the only way I’d consider letting you take Samantha.”

  “Dad!”

  Em hesitated. “I’d have to check with Sammy.”

  Samantha hooked her arm in Em’s. “Do it. He’ll love Prescott, and you and I can shop till we drop.”

  * * *

  EM FRETTED ALL the way home. What had she agreed to? Shopping had always been a pleasant pastime, so she didn’t mind that. But c
ould she tolerate Sammy going off on a camping trip without her?

  They had never been separated overnight, even the few times his father had been scheduled for a weekend visit. Bradley always picked his son up on Saturday morning and deposited the disappointed boy home on the same night. He used the excuse that Sammy might suffer from a serious asthma attack, and Bradley didn’t want to put the boy at risk.

  The last time, Sammy had tried not to cry. “Dad doesn’t have to worry. I know what to do,” he said after Bradley left. Em offered the only comfort she could, a hug and assurance that she’d always be there for him. It did little good when the boy wanted a father’s love and attention.

  But that asthma problem was an issue she couldn’t put aside. Could she trust Roger to care for Sammy if he was out of breath or coughed uncontrollably? Maybe she was worrying for nothing. Maybe her son wouldn’t even want to go.

  * * *

  “HI, EM. IT’S JODIE. Can you believe how time flies? What’s it been? Two weeks. I should have called you right after the party. Timothy loved the action figures you gave him. Even takes them to bed with him.”

  Em held the phone close to her ear so she could hear over the television. The three of them were watching a cartoon, and the noise carried through their small apartment.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I loved seeing you again, but we never got a chance to talk.”

  “Just a minute. I’ve got to find someplace quiet.” Taking the cordless phone out the door, Em halted on the tiny veranda that served as their porch and entrance into the second-floor apartment. She settled on the white plastic chair that faced the garden and pool.

  “That’s better. Now at least I can hear you. What did you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing special. Just thought maybe we could get together sometime. You free for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure am. I wanted to talk to you, as well. Samantha and I are going shopping on Saturday when Roger and Harve take the boys camping. You care to join us?”

  One of the tenants motioned to Em from poolside to join him. She waved and shook her head. The night was warm and balmy, perfect for an evening swim, but she had no desire to encourage any of the men she’d met at the apartment complex. Remembered tensions from her divorce kept her from seeking relationships with anyone.