The comments from the other passengers inside the ferry didn’t help; ghost stories, death penalties and serial killers weren’t my favorite subjects, not back then and certainly not after Mom and Dad died.
“We both drifted apart around my junior year of high school,” I told Rachel, who listened to every word I said, and Ed gave me a little squeeze on the shoulder. “Mom and I used to do everything together, but then I began to date and she closed herself off to everyone. I grew a lot during those years as an artist and began to exhibit my work independently. She’d be around the galleries or local museums, but would never talk for me. I was on my own when it came time to socializing. It was scary, because I’ve never been comfortable with crowds.”
More times than others, I had a hunch that Mom resented the artistic independence I acquired. Grammy confirmed it when I applied to grad school. It was her attempt to convince me on going back to my paintings and sculptures and leave advertisement. Had Mom been isolating herself because of her husband’s infidelities, or my abilities? Poor Mom, she died unhappy and I treated her badly on her last days. If I could have another minute with her, I’d apologize for my selfishness and tell her how much I love her.
Browsing through the small stores in Chinatown had been fun for me and Rachel. We bought a few scarfs. My fixation with them had increased throughout the years, summer scarfs, winter, cotton, wool, any weather they were welcome and loved. At the last shop, the guys suggested we go for a refreshment.
“Tea time,” I said. “Rachel needs to visit La Rotunda and enjoy some tea and sandwiches with me.”
“You four can go somewhere else,” Rachel addressed her husband, “like Starbucks or any other place. I doubt you want to be with us.”
I beamed at them when they agreed, and changed directions back to Union Square. “We should call ahead,” I uttered.
“I’m on it.” Jake was browsing his phone, and Rachel gave me a look I didn’t understand.
*
The restaurant inside Neiman Marcus hummed with excitement. Many women wanted to share the experience with their mothers, friends or whoever they came with. Thankfully, Jake had pulled a few strings and got us a window seat with a great view of Union Square. Classy, but honestly after so many places I’ve visited, it wasn’t as great as I thought it was back when I was a child. It was overcrowded with lots of visitors who wanted to try the great Rotunda. We shared a pot of blackberry tea and the traditional three tiers of tea sandwiches and desserts. Rachel accompanied the food with her personal story, for a change. I was grateful, relieved to know that I wouldn’t have to put myself out anymore. Though I wouldn’t mind much, her patience and intelligence showed with every word I spoke. Our exchange had been well received, and no sympathy for the orphan was added; she made me feel safe.
Rachel Knight, psychologist by choice and professional meddler by nature, talked a little more about her trips around the world. I learned new things about Jake and his brothers. Jake and Mitch were born in Texas—American boys, where she was from. Ed, a British native, owned various businesses with his father that took him all over the world. This was the reason for when the baby—Liam—joined the family less than two years later, they were living in Australia.
They not only lived in Australia, but also Japan, Chile, Brazil, France, Switzerland, New York and Norway before moving back to England. She home schooled her children, which I knew. They spoke ten languages, played various instruments and started college by the age of fifteen or sixteen and finished by the age of eighteen.
My turn came—again—and I shared the plans Mom and I made for when I went to art school. If accepted on the East coast, she’d come to visit me often and we’d hop on a train to visit the Smithsonian and other museums of art I had never been in. While, if Europe opened its arms to me, she’d travel over, stay for a month or two at a time and visit Europe with me. Mom didn’t live the way she wanted to or did the things she had been ambitious about when she was young.
Dad made a fairly good amount of money, but we only traveled to Hawaii for vacations. The schedule never changed. Mom and I explored the islands, and Dad lay under a palm tree, drank piña coladas and swam to cool down. Chloe usually went MIA. It was an annual five days of the same. During my junior year, he promised to switch gears when I graduated and go on a cruise. Though, he needed to save enough money so we could stay in the expensive rooms because my claustrophobia wouldn’t accept a seven day boat trip inside a metal box. Her laugh reminded me of Jake, her son, who laughed about every stupid thing I said. Rachel offered a cruise around the Mediterranean on their yacht.
Of course the Knights owned a yacht, and not just any yacht. Jake and Ed designed the ship with the help of a famous boat builder—whose name escaped her. It had six suites, a swimming pool, different amenities which included game and media rooms. I’d love the boat and wouldn’t feel secluded inside a metal box. Politely I declined her offer, giving no reason. The whole “I’m trying to get rid of your son’s memories without giving the truth” happened to be harder than I thought. But I continued trying. I offended her a couple of times and had to give in to some of her requests.
Like the obvious. “Next time you visit London,” she said, and then firmly she continued, “you must stay with us, not at a hotel.”
How could I explain I didn’t stay at a hotel, but at her son’s? Half of his closet belonged to me. Did he throw away my clothes and clean the shelves which once belonged to me? The sane, reasonable part of me wanted to throw away the stuff he left at my house. The other won the match. While I made plans to pack his clothing, Rachel continued with yet another conversation I didn’t pay much attention to because her son was invading ninety seven percent of my brain.
“Hello beautiful ladies.” Ed came to the table. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s time we leave.”
“Let me get the check,” I said and pulled out my wallet, but he tapped it and shook his head.
“It’s taken care of, lovely girl,” he said, as he helped Rachel slide into her light jacket and I followed behind them. Jake and Mitch flanked me, and Liam was in front of everyone, leading the way to the car.
“Sweetheart, let me know when your grandma calls,” Rachel told me, when we were on our way to Gaby’s. “I’ll be happy to go with you.”
I’d said no so many times that I gave up. Resigned, I gave a sharp nod, upset at myself. Yet, why fight the woman, when I could do as I pleased while pleasing her with a physical queue. Nodding didn’t get me inside the plane or her an invite to my grandparent’s home, right? No. Big mistake, she began to make plans for my visit to London, which I didn’t want to do anytime soon. She mentioned numerous tea places, plus museums and antique stores. Rachel became a tour guide, brainstorming before her big client arrived. Overwhelmed internally, I pleaded for a small break from her meddling. She didn’t bother me, nor did her plans. It was her link to the man I tried to forget.
Over one shoulder the rowdy fallen angel told me to go with her. While the sensitive one sat on the other side playing the harp said…why not? Well neither one helped my situation, did they? The story of my life, those two sides loved Jake with a passion that blinded their common sense. Common what? Both yelled at me in unison.
Chapter 20
Jake
JOHNNY FOLEY’S APPEARED across the street from the Starbucks we mapped, a unanimous decision, plus the inviting authenticity of the pub, got us to skip the espresso and head for a cold refreshing drink. A Guinness quenched the thirst I had carried since we left Yerba Buena Center. Though, an Emma would’ve done a better job. Thankful for the long shirt blocking the view below the belt, I walked ten minutes next to the cause of my erection. I counted all the way to a million—skipping the numbers containing the letter e. By the time we reached my parents, the bulk in my pants was gone. My brain performed better, out of the sexual haze I had slipped into.
Emma’s body fit perfectly over mine, while appreciating one of her favorite places, some o
ld memories came back to mind and were awakened in my body. After she had indulged at the Louvre, more specifically in front of the Mona Lisa—for more than two hours, we had a mind blowing session of sex. Her excitement during the visit made me buy a membership to the museum. God, I owned a membership to a French museum. Did I cancel when I received the renewal? Of course not, I paid it instead. What was wrong with me? Emma. When I found her in front of the fountain, instinct made me move her ponytail to the side, freeing her soft neck. I slid my mouth along her delicate skin.
Emma’s body reacted to my touch and by impulse she leaned against my body. The feel of her, plus her scent, awoke my entire being and made me possess her body with my arms. Not once did she reject the approach, contrary she gave in and began to sway her hips over mine. Liam interrupted what would’ve become a reconciliation or a big mistake. The excess of baggage the girl carried weighed more than my need of her. Only need, no feelings. Emma required a man who’d love her and protect her from herself—not me.
Mom and Dad enjoyed her company. She was a fresh face and presence in the Knight family. While Mitch, I noticed, remained neutral toward her. Not because he didn’t like her, but because if he got attached to Emma, she’d become a permanent fixture in his life. That was Mitch. Contrary to me, who cut people from left and right at any time with no hesitation. Well, except Emma, she engraved her presence into my life. She branded me, bound me and did everything to make me hers.
“Are you two getting back together?” Liam asked, interrupting my thoughts. I sipped my beer and made another head count inside the pub. “The blast from the past over by the fountain gave me the impression.”
“He’s whipped,” Mitch responded with a grin, “but no, he’s not ready. And with her history…it’ll take time for the love birds to come together—if ever.” I arched my eyebrow and tried to use those laser beams Emma talked about when people annoyed her, and much like when she tried to use them, they didn’t work for me either. “Heads up, Jay, our parents love the girl.”
Great! I never doubted my parents. They adopted friends and family and never let them go. Mitch’s attachment issues came from them—both. Liam and I escaped the friendly gene.
Before I could talk, change the subject or tell them to give it a rest, my phone buzzed and a text from one of my associates came through.
Holton: emailed report, hard case. Isn’t that your girl’s family?
Knight: yeah, thank you.
Changing from one application to the other, I access the email he sent and began to read through it. According to the report, the police responded to a 911 call made by a Mrs. Johnson right after eight in the morning on a Monday. A man driving a black Mercedes Benz with California plates opened fire inside the house across from hers. After he left, she approached the house and called out to the family. No one responded. The body of Mr. Anderson tied on a chair with multiple gunshot wounds welcomed her. She escaped to her house and called 9-1-1, with an exact description of the vehicle, plates and direction. Ten minutes later, they found the man on the highway and began to chase him.
The man opened fire while driving on the highway at ninety miles per hour, and then he crashed against the median. When he left the car, limping, he opened fire at the police, who responded by killing him during the fire exchange. His car harbored two automatic guns and ammunition, plus the body of his wife along with a map of New York, with pictures of Chloe Anderson, Emma Anderson and Anne Lynden-Anderson. His GPS was giving him directions to Emma’s school, where he planned to shoot her during her second period class. Not my girl.
“Jake?” Dad shook me, Mitch’s voice sounded far off and under water. Liam snatched my cell phone from the tight grip of my hand. “What is it, Liam?”
Everything around me disappeared. The entire night where I half died came to mind, mixed with the knowledge that Emma barely made it. All together the thoughts hit deep in my gut. Mrs. Johnson was my new best friend, she deserved a medal. Grateful for her intervention, I decided to investigate the woman and do something to repay her for her actions.
“Jay,” Mitch said, and continued rubbing my back. “You’re with us, right? Nothing happened to Emma, she’s with Mom, having girly time. Don’t worry, Dad, his ghostly appearance is fading.”
“I’m fine.” I focused my sight on the cold glass containing the amber beer in front of me. I gripped and sipped it, steadying my breaths. Chills, heat, sweat and all the bodily reactions simmered down too. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be drinking shots of scotch until the pictures of Emma’s parents disappeared. Multiple shots, bound to furniture, or Mrs. Anderson bound from head to toe without any clothing, were images that would haunt me for a while. I needed to continue what I started. “Let me finish reading the report.”
“Nah.” Liam handed the phone to Dad. “I’ll give you the synopsis. Emma and Chloe remained alive because of the nosy neighbor, who deserves some kind of recognition. He raped the mom before he killed her, and they presumed the father witnessed everything before he died. You read about the maps and pictures. Holton sent numerous articles related to the Andersons and their homicide, the entire fraud timeline, and how he lost the money. They bashed the family, saying he cheated with every woman he met. Anna’s depression, which Holton says was a lie. He couldn’t find medical records to support the story. Plus, he sent stories about the party girl who slept with every guy in Menlo Park—Chloe. Emma’s only mentioned twice, as a promising artist who lost her family.”
Insensitive Emma, careless Emma and the fun girl who sneaked out at night when no one else saw her, made sense. She lost everything in one day. The parents she loved, the family she grew up with and the security of having someone next to her. Her uncertain future launched her into a world Emma controlled and no one would cross without permission. Fear, pain, loss, and other emotions she was unaware she showed for the past two years, had been explained in one gory email. What she had said lightly weighed more now that I had inside information. She wore armor bigger than a tank that only I penetrated, and her personal insecurities drew her to it on a daily basis.
Emma took over an entire meeting room and could convince any client to let K&W oversee their future with her ideas, but when it came to personal contact, she shied away. Hence, she stopped making art; most artists believed they shared a part of their soul with each piece they produced. I wondered how much of herself she rendered those nights she traced over my back or chest. An idiot like me wouldn’t cherish the gift she offered. Perhaps if I had…no…whatever triggered Emma’s decision to terminate ‘us’ was out of my hands. Miss Anderson’s determination made her do crazy stuff and no one stopped her or diverted her intentions.
It took me some time to calm and come to terms with myself that I had to be strong for Emma. The rest would be a work in progress, but for the next few hours I had to pretend I was strong and didn’t know what happened to her family. When I was ready, we headed toward Neiman Marcus to pick up Mom and Emma, hoping they enjoyed their time together. I doubted it, though looking inside the restaurant gave me a different picture. The meddler was talking, while Emma nodded and smiled peacefully. It was better than what I expected.
Dad asked for the check, pointing to the table where they were seated, but I paid. An entitlement I refused to lose for the day. Whatever happened tomorrow or at the end of the week didn’t matter. The next few days, Emma was part of this family, a part of me. And today she let Pretty Boy be in charge.
“Don’t give her any pity,” I warned Dad and my brothers. “She hates it.”
Chapter 21
Jake
“SWEETHEART, LET ME know when your grandma calls,” I heard Mom say while I drove to the Clement’s home. “I’ll be happy to go with you.”
I peeked in the rearview mirror, Emma’s I don’t-think-so-smile appeared.
“I bet Mom will win that one.” Mitch’s low voice made Liam laugh.
“Nah,” I responded. “She won’t, but I won’t take that bet.”<
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The rest of the drive I heard the multiple places Mom planned on taking Emma when she visited London. She’d stay with them, not in an impersonal hotel. News flash, Mom, Emma stays with me. Stayed, I kept forgetting—reality was a bitch. The neighborhood where the Clements lived came into view, and more cars than yesterday blocked any available parking space. We found a spot two blocks from their home. We didn’t mind the distance, but hated the situation. My escape route had been compromised by a bunch of party goers that didn’t give a damn about their safety. Cade received Mom with a hug, but gave us a glare when he saw Emma between Dad and Liam. I’ll be watching you, I whispered with a fake brotherly hug.
“Too many,” Liam huffed, and Mitch chuckled when he pointed at three new lady faces. “Do we need to stay?” Mitch nodded with a childish grin and walked across the room to meet his victim.
“I do,” Emma’s deflated tone made me place an arm around her waist. “Maid of honor duty. Who’s the best man?”
“Mitch,” I answered. We both looked at him, already placing his moves. “All night, or do you want to leave early, Em? You can’t handle this love-fest for long. After all, you had a huge morning—headache.” I winked at her and she smiled.
Before she answered my question, Liam’s annoying cell phone rang. I was close to snatching it and flushing it down the first available toilet. “Sam.” Liam showed his phone to Emma and then me before answering. “No, she didn’t call me back either. Vacation, and this isn’t an emergency, so don’t bother me.” He rubbed his face with one hand. “You talked to Jacob. Not my problem, it’s his decision, Sam. He wasn’t going to pay. What’s the big deal? Status? That’s why you want the account.” He slapped his forehead and blew some air before continuing his call. “Jake chided me for sharing his stuff without his consent. He had a friend in mind already. Yeah, you do that. Hope you get ahold of her soon.”
Getting by (A Knight's Tale) Page 13