Texas Whirlwind

by Bonnie Blythe

  Grabbing the boxes, she exited the closet and made her way to the kitchen, the small aura of light from the flashlight eerily limited in the yawning blackness all around her.

  Emma stumbled against a chair in the living room. She righted herself and picked up a pair of ceramic candlesticks from the fireplace mantle. As she entered the dining area, the forms of Travis and the girls slowly took shape.

  “Sorry that took so long. I found the candles.”

  “Momma!” one of the twins cried out.

  “I’m right here, Baby.” Emma lit two candles and stuck them in the empty candlesticks she’d set on the table. “There, that’s better.”

  She looked over at Travis where he held the girls on his lap. His eyes appeared shiny black in the dimness. Emma swallowed. “Would you mind helping the twins finish their dinner while I hunt down all the available candles and holders?”

  His considering look made her heart flutter for some reason. “No problem.”

  Emma wondered at his expression. Does he think this is romantic or something? She shivered and ignored the thought.

  With the aid of the failing flashlight, she managed to locate several votives, and a few large multi-wick decorator candles. Within a few minutes, she’d placed them about the living room, dining nook, and kitchen.

  The small pools of light stretched toward the others illuminating the space with a mellow glow—and creating a sense of intimacy that made her nervous.

  “I think the girls are done eating,” Travis said.

  Emma turned as Katrina banged her hands on the tray of the high chair. Kendra rubbed her eyes and whined.

  “At this time I usually read a story before putting them to bed.”

  Travis set the girls onto the nook bench and stood. “I’ll take care of that. You pick out their books and I’ll get some candles set up in the living room. We can all read together.”

  Emma gave a quick nod before turning away to hide her expression. Together. It’s really such a friendly word. Why does it make me so tense? She grabbed a candle from the kitchen counter and went to the girls’ room where a basket of books was kept.

  Emma chose a couple of Bible stories, ignoring one with the title Our Little Family. When she entered the living room, she found Travis settled on the couch with a twin on each side, all lit by a warm halo of light. He grinned as she approached. The knot in her stomach tightened.

  He pulled Katrina onto his lap and patted the cushion next to him. “I got them all cleaned up from dinner.”

  Emma sat down gingerly, striving to appear placid and unruffled. “Thank you.” Kendra climbed onto her lap and leaned back, ready for a story.

  “We’ll have to scoot closer,” Travis said with a smile in his voice, “so both girls can see the book.”

  Uh huh. Emma sat stiffly while he bumped against her, touching from hip to knee. She released a shaky breath, reminding herself to relax.

  “What’s the first book?”

  She held up a story about Jonah.

  “May I?” he asked.

  Emma nodded and handed him the book. He flipped to the beginning and began to read. The girls stared up at him as if this was the first time they’d heard a man tell a story. She suppressed a smile at their expressions. Travis told the story with a dramatic flair that she lacked. The girls sat spellbound. When he finished, Katrina turned in his lap and sat up on her knees. She took his face in her little hands and squeezed.

  “I think she wants another story,” Emma said, bemused.

  “All right, little lady, how about Daniel and the lions’ den?”

  Katrina twisted around and nestled down, expectant that another story was forthcoming. Travis read with gusto that had the twins patting the pages and looking up at him.

  After the story was done, he snapped the book shut. “Time for bed, girls!”

  Kendra bolted from Emma’s lap and clambered into Travis’s, both girls trying to get their arms around his neck. He stood, hoisting them into his arms, and headed for the bedroom.

  Emma rose and walked to the window, needing a moment alone to collect her wayward thoughts. Peering through the parted curtain she watched the surf foam and rage along the shore. The moon raced through tattered black clouds. Palm trees arched downward, yielding to the fierce wind. That’s how I feel. Bent over by forces I can’t control.

  “Emma?”

  She jumped at the sound of Travis’s voice. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  He stood next to her, looking through the window. “Sure is stormy out there.” He turned to her and smiled. “And here we are safe and sound inside.”

  Emma could only discern the outlines of Travis’s face in the dark room. The candles across the room reflected like tiny pinpricks of light in his eyes. “How did you get the girls to sleep so fast?”

  “I sang a lullaby. Must’ve sounded so bad, they closed their eyes to pretend to sleep just so I would stop.”

  Emma laughed softly. “I’m sure they were just tired.” She glanced out the window, heightened in her awareness of his proximity. Why did she always feel so silly around him? They were two adults, not a couple of hormone-crazed teens. She bit her lip, trying to shut out the images that thought induced.

  Emma cleared her throat, looking up at him. “Thank you for coming, and for dinner.”

  She sensed him smiling in the darkness. “I still need to have you ladies over to my place, you know. This doesn’t let you off the hook.”

  “That would be nice,” she said in a noncommittal tone.

  Travis rested his hand on her shoulder. The warmth seeped through her shirt. “Just nice, huh?”

  “Nice,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “I guess we have to start somewhere.”

  Emma opened her eyes, struggling to see his expression. She decided to keep her tone light. “Are you taking advantage of the situation?”

  “Yep.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. Did the man know how tempting he was? “You shouldn’t, you know.”

  His hand on her shoulder traveled to the nape of her neck. Emma held her breath when his fingers tangled in her hair.

  “Why not?”

  “Because...because I’m not ready for a relationship. Too many things are crazy right now.”

  “Just like that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can write me off just like that?”

  She lowered her gaze, wishing she could ignore the languorous sensations his touch produced.

  “I’m not trying to be rude. Just trying to get settled and simplify my life.”

  “Ah, that’s right. I’m a complication.”

  “Travis, please don’t. It’s nothing personal, okay? You know how flustered I get when things are confusing.”

  “Let me help smooth them out for you.” His other hand touched the back of her waist, pressing her closer.

  Emma clenched her fists at her sides to keep a clear head. “Um, you’re very kind, and I appreciate the offer, but I feel it’s important that I do this on my own.”

  “So stubborn,” he whispered. He nudged her chin up.

  Emma sensed him lowered his head. The sweet promise of his kiss tempted her beyond anything—but her head told her to step away.

  The power surged on, flooding the room with light. Travis appeared dazed, his mouth only millimeters from her lips.

  Emma grasped the opportunity to take a step backward.

  “Um, I’ll go kiss the girls goodnight.”

  15

  Give not a windy night

  a rainy morrow

  -Shakespeare

  Travis knocked on the door of the imposing estate, his heart hammering in his ribs. I can’t let Emma go like this. I have to give her a reason to stay. The ring box in his shirt pocket seemed to bounce from the vibration of his heart. They’d have to wait a year until she turned eighteen to get married, but he didn’t doubt the wait for her would be worth every minute.

  He st
ared at the door, mentally preparing himself to face Emma’s father. This is crazy. Her parents won’t allow it.

  But I love her.

  The door opened. A woman Travis didn’t recognize popped her head out and gave him a suspicious look. “What do you want, boy?”

  “Um, is Emma here? I’m Travis Taylor, her friend.” And I hope a lot more than that after I see her.

  The woman shook her head. “They’s up and moved out this mornin’. Gone to foreign parts.”

  Travis stared at her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The woman pursed her lips. “Look, I got no time for this. I be packing up what they left behind to send on.”

  He felt an invisible fist knock him in the solar plexus. “Do you mean Emma’s gone?”

  “Like I said, they’s all gone.” She pushed the door closed.

  Travis stuck his foot in the door. “Wait! Did Emma—did anyone leave a note for me?”

  “No notes, no nuthin’.” The door slammed in his face.

  He stared at the ivy wreath on the door, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard. Emma’s gone? She wouldn’t leave without telling me! She wouldn’t!

  Would she?

  Travis plodded down the porch steps, his shoulders slumped. He knew her parents had planned to move, just not so soon. How could she not take the few minutes to write a note? He felt anger surge within him and held onto it—preferring it to the pain of rejection.

  Oh, Emma, how could you do this to me?

  Travis opened his eyes as the remnants of the dream receded into straggling mists of memory. He groaned and sat up in bed, amazed that his frustration with Emma’s behavior the night before had dredged up those old memories.

  Sunlight pierced the gloom of his bedroom with dusty shafts through the blinds. He rubbed his face harshly, regretting that what little sleep he’d managed to get had been disturbed by painful recollections.

  That moment when he realized Emma had left the country without telling him was a low point in his life. Her excuses now didn’t sit any better with him. How can she kiss me like she’s crazy about me one minute, then protest the next?

  He grimaced. How could she tell me she loved me, then leave without letting me know until it was too late? Maybe I haven’t learned my lesson.

  Travis tossed back the sheets and walked over to his dresser. Opening a drawer and fumbling inside, his hand closed around a small pouch. He pulled it out and stared down at it. After a moment, he loosened the drawstring and emptied the contents into his palm—a ring box and a letter. The box contained the ring he’d bought for fifty dollars at a pawn shop the day before he planned to propose.

  Travis opened the lid and grimaced. The stone was so small it was almost non-existent. She probably would’ve hated it anyway. He closed the lid and looked at the letter that had arrived three months after she’d left, postmarked from Indonesia.

  He walked to the bed and sank onto the mattress. Unable to stop himself, he slid the paper from the envelope.

  Dear Travis,

  I don’t know what to say. We’re gone and not coming back. My parents said they didn’t tell me because they didn’t want any fuss about me staying behind to be with you. I don’t know what to do...

  Travis quickly folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, not wanting to read any further.

  If she really loved me, she would’ve at least contacted me earlier—not let me imagine the worst for so long. He frowned at the thought. That wasn’t fair. But unable to forgive her then, he’d never written back.

  Because when it boiled right down, he doubted her love.

  Travis pressed his lips together, uncomfortable with the contradictory emotions roiling within him. Yet, the way Emma treated him now was really no different. Despite her melting kisses, her sweet affection when she was in his arms, he apparently didn’t have what it took to make her want him for good.

  She’s already mentioned that she needs a permanent place to live. Who’s to say she won’t disappear again to parts unknown? Will she let me know this time, or just leave?

  Travis blew out a ragged sigh and shoved the letter and ring box back into the pouch. I was stupid then to pine for her for so long. Maybe I’m being just as stupid now.

  ****

  Emma walked out onto the beach holding each of the girls by their hands. There’s no going barefoot on this beach. The storm had dredged up an assortment of trash onto the sand. Broken beer bottles, knots of fishing line, chipped lures, some netting, and shattered seashells lined the now whispering waves. It was hard to imagine the storm of the night before. The watery expanse of the Gulf seemed flat and expressionless—worn out after all the fuss.

  Just like I feel. Emma bit her lip, surprised by the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. In her heart, she knew her wayward emotions revolved around Travis. Why do I keep pushing him away? What’s wrong with me? I’m so afraid but I don’t know why.

  Emma thought about his gentle insistence that they pursue a relationship. She felt another pang of remorse for the way she left him all those years ago. To this day, the shame of her defection bit deep. Travis had given her an out—what could she really have done?

  When I turned eighteen, I could’ve returned to the states. It would’ve been difficult getting the money for airfare, but if I wanted it bad enough, I know I could’ve done it.

  But I didn’t. Not after the way I left. Not after I never heard from him again. Emma swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as the truth mushroomed within her. I don’t deserve Travis. Never did, never will.

  Had that really been the crux of her reticence? She’d always assumed by now he’d be married to a sweet woman and have several kids. Maybe that’s what she’d really wanted all along—for Travis to find someone who was worthy of him.

  The twins pulled on Emma’s hands, leading her toward the water. Two men had backed their pickup trucks up to the surf. They sat in lawn chairs with fishing poles set up to angle in the waves. An egret roosted nearby on one foot—probably hoping for a fishy handout—and launched into the air at their approach.

  She steered the girls away from the fishermen and walked them to the water’s edge so they could get their feet wet. As they splashed in the waves, clinging to her hands, Emma wished she had the boldness of her daughters where matters of the heart were concerned.

  After about twenty minutes of playtime, her arms ached from holding up the twins. “Time to go, girls.”

  Kendra, the more dominant of the two, dug her little sandaled feet into the sand, resisting.

  Emma tried another tack. “Aren’t you hungry? Do you want some milk and cookies for snack?”

  “Snack!”

  Breathing a sigh of relief that she’d made it over one hurdle of many to come, she herded them back to the beach house and up the stairs.

  When she pushed the door open, she heard the phone ringing. Emma snapped the door shut behind her and locked it before rushing for the phone. She snatched up the receiver, out of breath.

  “Miss Hayes!”

  My lawyer! “Yes, Mr. Belling?”

  “Are you sitting down? Because we’ve got a problem.”

  ****

  Stephen bit his fingernail and sent a glance into the mirror behind the bar of the restaurant, scanning the customers as a matter of habit. Huge potted plants filled the corners, the hanging glasses sparkled, and the bar was polished to a high sheen. Men in nine-hundred dollar suits gathered in clusters at the tables dotting the restaurant, speaking in hushed undertones as if anyone might overhear their deals of the century.

  Stephen’s drink remained untouched. He couldn’t really afford it anyway—because that stingy Emma wouldn’t help out a friend in need. His humiliation at her refusal to help burned like fire in his belly. He knew she was loaded, and knew she was absurdly loose with her money. What had happened to make her suddenly suspicious of him?

  Stephen thought of that yokel who’d walked in her door like he owned the place.
She’s got herself another man—a man who obviously knows which side of his bread is buttered on.

  He cursed under his breath and sipped his drink, wincing as the liquid flamed down his throat. He’d forgotten how attractive Emma was. With her wide blue eyes, flyaway hair, and soft voice, she was the type that brought out men in droves. He’d have to figure out a way to get back into her good graces. His debts were pressing.

  Stephen glanced at the mirror at the sound of a feminine voice. The maitre’d led a woman to a nearby table. When she was seated, she smiled at the bartender and asked for the usual. She was dressed with a confident style that spoke of money, and had long, black hair. Her cool green eyes met Stephen’s in the mirror’s reflection.

  Time to execute Plan B.

  When he’d left Emma’s church, he’d seen the Emma’s new boyfriend talking with the dark-haired woman now seated at the table. Stephen had heard enough of their intense conversation that day to know she’d been jilted by him. And after watching her habits for a few days sitting in his car, he knew she frequented this restaurant, knew she was understandably upset—and wondered how she could be of use.

  He flashed a smile, gratified when he saw the corners of her lips lift a notch. The bartender brought her a tall, iced Coke toward her.

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  “Haven’t seen you around much lately, Miss Lucy.”

  Lucy. It fits.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “How’s the family?”

  She took a sip. “Fine. In fact my parents will be having their thirtieth anniversary family gathering here next weekend.”

  “I heard about that. You tell them congratulations from old Harry.”

  She smiled. “I will.”

  Stephen listened to their friendly exchange with a measure of disbelief. That 'Southern charm' is so bogus. He toyed with his glass, sending Lucy a sidelong glance. She returned the look, without appearing to.

  She knows the game. Maybe I could also enjoy a slight diversion while I figure out how to get to Emma.