Prejudice Meets Pride

by Anderson, Rachael

  “Tomorrow? Are you serious? You’re free that soon?” She sounded shocked and a little awed.

  Emma scrambled for a reason. “I, uh, had a cancellation.”

  A happy squeal sounded in Emma’s ear. “That’s perfect. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be here.”

  Emma worked out the arrangements, then slowly set the phone down, glancing once again at the note on the armrest. As the frigid air careened outside, a warmth oozed into her body and filled her up. Maybe it was time to write a note of her own.

  Emma snuggled with the girls in bed until their bodies stopped fidgeting and their breathing evened out, just like she had every night since they found out their dad couldn’t come for Thanksgiving or Christmas. She’d cried with them, held them close, and tried to make up for the absence of their beloved father in their life. But no matter how much she tried, she knew it wasn’t the same. They missed their father. They needed their father.

  Once she was sure they were asleep, Emma unwound her arms from their heads and carefully crawled out of the bed. Then she went to find her phone. Her fingers shook as she punched out the message.

  I miss you too.

  She pressed Send and waited. The house creaked its age, a little snore sounded from down the hall, and her heart thump-bumped. After about five minutes, a soft knock sounded at the door, kicking her heart rate up several notches.

  She flew to the door, pulled it open and threw herself into Kevin’s arms, breathing in his clean scent, along with a lingering hint of something spicy. Kevin held her tight, and they stood on her front porch, allowing all past hurts to blow away with the snow that was now falling. The wind had died down, and everything felt calm. Eventually, the frigid November night air began to seep inside her bones, stealing away the sweet warmth. She pulled back and looked up. “I want to show you something. Will you come inside?”

  “Yes.”

  Fingers interlocked with his, Emma pulled him out of the cold and led him down the hall to the room she used as her studio. Several drawings and paintings were leaning against the walls around the perimeter of the room, and two of her favorite portfolios sat on top of the desk. Kevin looked at her briefly before letting go of her hand and slowly walking around the room, lifting and examining some of her pieces.

  With all of her classmates, teachers, or even her brother, Emma had squirmed or fidgeted when they’d perused her work. She always felt so exposed and uncomfortable, like she was opening up a part of herself that should be kept private. But with Kevin, she wanted to share this part of herself with him, wanted him to know all of those thoughts and feelings she’d hidden in her artwork, wanted him to know her. Just like she wanted to know him. Inside and out. Top to bottom.

  He held up a sketch and turned it toward her with a question in his eyes. It was a collage she’d done years earlier, filled with random images that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her.

  Emma moved to his side. “I drew that after my first month of art school when I was overwhelmed with financial stress and feeling like I was the worst artist at the school.” She pointed at the various images, moving from left to right. “That’s the money I wished I’d had and the expensive pencils and brushes I wanted more than anything. That’s an award I wanted to win, and those are the professors I wanted to impress. That’s my favorite building on campus and the homeless man I saw sleeping on a nearby bench. He had only a small bag that he kept clutched to his chest. That’s my apartment, with food in the fridge and clothing hanging in the closet, along with a workable set of brushes and pencils. That’s my family, who loved me and were behind me one hundred percent. And that’s the school I got accepted to, along with one of my favorite proverbs: ‘Little by little one walks far.’” She looked at Kevin and shrugged. “It’s not brilliant by any means, but it reminded me that I was only at the beginning and had a lot to be grateful for, so I hung it on my wall and kept it there until I’d graduated. It helped me get through some tough times.”

  “I think it’s amazing,” said Kevin. He set it down and continued to look through her stuff, eventually holding up another one—a picture of an old, scraggly man with his mouth opened in song and a bright halo of light surrounding him. “And this?”

  Emma drew in a breath. “A massive hurricane hit Honduras one summer. My family was stuck in a storm shelter crammed with people and only had a few flashlights for light. It was so hot and muggy, and the shelter rocked and banged against the storm. I was so sure we’d get carried away and all die that night. People were crying and screaming, and I had never felt more scared or claustrophobic in my life. But then that man started singing, and little by little, the noise died down. He didn’t have the greatest of voices, but a peace settled around us and my fear left me. He sang until the rain stopped and the winds died down. He sang until his voice grew hoarse. After that, I always thought of him as our angel who saved us.”

  Kevin nodded, but said nothing. He set the painting down almost reverently and moved on. There was a sheet covering an easel that he lifted before Emma could stop him. It was a painting she’d been working on for her brother, depicting his late wife holding hands with Adelynn and Kajsa.

  “That’s not finished yet,” she was quick to say.

  He didn’t seem to care. “Is this their mom?”

  “Yeah, that’s Angie. I’m planning to give it to Noah for Christmas since they didn’t take a lot of pictures and he doesn’t have much to remember her by.”

  “It’s incredible, Emma. You’re incredible.” Kevin gazed at it, shaking his head in wonder. When he’d finished looking, his eyes met hers, and something passed between them—a link that could never be broken or undone. He came to stand in front of her, and his palms cupped her cheeks, raising her head slightly.

  “I love you, Emma Mackie.”

  “I love you, too.”

  His lips lifted into a smile before he ducked his head and pressed his mouth hard against hers. Heat rushed through Emma, warming her down to her toes, and she clung to him, her world spinning out of control. Swirling images mixed with straight lines, and hundreds of monochromatic colors blended together, creating a moving abstract that could never be captured on paper or canvas. Color this brilliant didn’t exist in the form of paint or pencils, crayons or pastels. It existed only with Kevin.

  He lifted her up, and her legs locked around his waist, her arms around his neck. He pressed her back against the wall as though he couldn’t get close enough. The swirls and color churned and exploded around them, lighting up the room like iridescent lights never could. Emma was lost.

  Eventually, the pressure of his lips eased off hers, moving across her jaw line and to the base of her neck. Her skin came alive, feeling sensations only he could create.

  When his lips found hers again, he murmured, “I can’t stop.”

  “Then don’t,” she whispered back, with more breath than voice.

  He chuckled, kissed her hard one more time, then carefully set her down on wobbly feet, still brushing lips against hers softly, over and over again, decreasing the pressure with every touch, until it was over. His forehead came to rest against hers, and they both struggled to catch their breath.

  “Don’t ever push me away again,” he said.

  “Never.” She peeked up at him. “I’m going to miss the notes, though. I was tempted not to text you yet because I liked them so much.”

  The back of his finger brushed across her jaw line. “What changed your mind?”

  “I missed you a little more.”

  “Only a little?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little more than a little.”

  He smiled again, kissed her again, then led her back to the front room, where he pulled her down on his lap and continued to kiss and nuzzle her. Emma was in heaven.

  “I think I got a job today,” she said.

  He pulled away and looked at her. “Where?”

  “Some temp agency across town. They need a receptionist.”

 
; “You hate answering phones.”

  Emma nodded. “I also got a call today from someone named Madelyn Jones. She said she got my business card from you. What business card was she talking about?”

  “The really cheap ones I had made up for you,” he said. “I would have told you and made you pay for them, but you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” she said.

  “Emma, I was only jok—”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “I’ll pay you back.” Then she kissed him again and again, saying, “Thank you,” between each kiss.

  “You’re welcome. Are you going to take the receptionist job?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “You love to paint. I could help you get a business started. You could teach private lessons and paint murals on people’s walls.”

  Emma searched his face. He looked so confident, as though he really believed she could make a go of it as an artist. That belief strengthened her, and it occurred to Emma that if she had him on her side, maybe she could. “I don’t know the first thing about setting up a business.”

  “Gee, I wonder who could help you with that.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No,” he said. “You can start small. Register a name with the state, get some new business cards printed, set up an internet site, and do a little advertising. Your work will recommend itself.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy. And with my help, it will be easier. You can do this.”

  Emma twisted to the side, and her fingers interlocked around his neck. Her forehead rested against his. “So you think I should turn down that job offer when it comes?”

  “I think you should tell them you’d love to paint a mural on their walls, but you’re not interested in answering phones.”

  Emma threw her head back and laughed. She felt a release, a lightening, a letting go of something she’d been trying to force on herself because she didn’t think she had any other options. But Kevin made her feel as though the world was full of options, and she could pick the one she liked best.

  And right now, she was liking Kevin best.

  Thanksgiving Day

  The oven buzzer sounded, and Emma grabbed a hot pad off the counter. It was slightly damp, but she didn’t care—until she tried to pull the pan of sweet potatoes from the oven, and the heat went right through the damp pad and into her fingers. She dropped the pan on the floor with a yelp, and sweet potatoes went everywhere.

  “Kevin.” She muttered his name out like a curse word. He was the one who’d wanted the sweet potatoes. Not her. She didn’t even like them. And if he was here, as he’d promised he would be, the sweet potatoes wouldn’t have fallen to the ground, the mashed potatoes wouldn’t be a lumpy mess, and the turkey would be done—as opposed to only sort of done. Thank goodness Becky had taken on the making of the rolls, the Jell-O salad, and the pies, because otherwise those would have been ruined as well.

  Where was Kevin? She would wring his neck when he finally showed his face. Wring it then hand him a fork so he could eat his precious sweet potatoes off the floor.

  “We’re here!” Becky’s sweet voice called out, and a bustle of activity was heard in the front room.

  “Aunt Becky! Sam!” the girls cried out, and Emma pictured them barreling toward two of their favorite people.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Justin’s voice boomed. “Where’s my hug?”

  The girls giggled, and his voice sounded again. “That’s more like it. Now help us carry this food into the kitchen.

  Emma was on her knees, mopping up the mess, when Becky and her husband walked in. “Oh, no. What happened?” Becky cried.

  “I happened,” muttered Emma. “Actually, no—Kevin happened. Or didn’t happen. However you want to look at it.”

  “What are you talking about? Is Kevin back already?”

  Emma craned her neck to see her friend. “Back from where?”

  Becky’s expression took on a look of panic, but she quickly schooled it into one of innocence. “I don’t know. Do you know, Justin?”

  “I don’t know anything,” he said robotically, as though he’d rehearsed the phrase a bunch of times.

  Emma rose from the floor and placed her hands on her hips. “Becky? Where’s Kevin?”

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Becky grabbed a rag from the drawer, wetted it down, and dropped to her knees.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Emma accused. She hated being in the dark, especially when it came to Kevin. How was it Becky knew something about him that she didn’t?

  The front door opened again, and screams of “Daddy!” echoed through to the kitchen.

  Emma froze. Her heart pounded. Her ears strained to hear. When Noah’s laughter sounded, she rushed from the kitchen and froze in the doorway. Noah was on his knees, hugging his two little girls with tears streaming down his face. He was here. He was actually here. Only then did Emma realize that tears were running down her cheeks as well.

  Her gaze moved from Noah to the door, where Kevin stood, watching her with anxious eyes. He held up his hand in a preemptive move, as though ready to ward off an argument before it started. “I did this for the girls, Emma, not—”

  She charged forward and threw her arms around him, simultaneously laughing and crying. “You brought him home. You brought him home,” was all she could say.

  His arms came around her tentatively. “You’re not mad?”

  “How could I be mad?” She stared up at him. “Just look what you did.”

  Kevin let out his breath and tightened his arms around her. “Emma, I will never understand you.”

  “Join the club,” Noah said, grinning up from his place on the floor. “I grew up with her, and I still haven’t figured her out.”

  Emma pulled free from Kevin’s arms and dropped to the ground beside her brother, hugging him. “I’m so happy you’re here. How long do you get to stay?”

  Noah stood, hefting both of his girls off the floor and keeping them in his arms. He looked leaner, stronger, and older than he had before. He looked wonderful. He glanced briefly at Kevin before looking at Emma.

  “I was going to wait to tell everyone until after dinner, but I guess now’s as good a time as any. I’m not going back. Kevin here, put me in touch with a friend of his, who happens to be a general contractor. He offered me a job, and I accepted. It doesn’t pay nearly as well, but that’s okay. I’ll get out of debt eventually, and I’ll do it with my girls at my side.”

  “Does that mean you get to stay forever, Daddy?” Kajsa asked.

  “Forever and ever.”

  Happy squeals echoed through the room, sounding far away to Emma’s dazed mind. Noah wasn’t going back. He was staying here, with his girls, exactly where he should be. Emma couldn’t talk, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t do anything but stand there and let the tears gush from her eyes.

  Kevin moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin on her head. He introduced Noah to Becky, Justin, and Sam while Emma continued to bawl her eyes out. Becky said she’d clean up the sweet potato mess, Kevin teased her about ruining them on purpose, and Emma had to go find the box of tissues.

  She sat on her bed and let the tears come. She cried for all the time Noah had been away, all the sweet moments he’d missed with his girls, and for all the moments he’d never have to miss again. She cried because she’d never felt so happy.

  “You okay?” Kevin said from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the jamb.

  “I’m more than okay.”

  He pushed away from the door and sat next to her on the bed, pulling her close.

  “I don’t deserve you.” Emma buried her face in his shirt, wishing her nose wasn’t stuffy so she could smell him.

  Kevin lifted her chin until she looked at him. “I feel the exact same way
about you.”

  He dipped his head, pressing his lips lightly against hers. The kiss tasted like mint and warmth and happiness.

  “You ready to eat?” he asked softly.

  “I’m sorry about the sweet potatoes.”

  “Are you? Really?” he teased.

  “For your sake, I am.”

  He chuckled, then stood, holding out his hand for her. “Don’t worry. I like it when you owe me.”

  Emma clasped his hand and let him lead her down the hall. At the kitchen doorway, she paused, watching everyone she loved, with the exception of her parents, gather around the table. It was loud, crowded, and chaotic in the small space, especially considering they had to make room for one more, but it was the most beautiful sight Emma had ever seen. Someday, she’d even paint it.

  Kevin held out a chair and gestured for her to join them. Emma’s heart warmed and expanded, growing until she felt like it might burst. Kevin had made this happen, just like he’d made so many other things happen. He’d lifted her up when she was down, opened doors she hadn’t realized existed, provided a shoulder to lean on when she needed one, and brought her brother home to his girls.

  He was the sugar in her lemonade. And because of him, and the man he was, life had never tasted so sweet.

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  Thanks so much for reading! I hope this story took you out of reality for awhile and into a world of escape and rejuvenation because everyone deserves that once in awhile.

  If you’re willing, I’d love a review from you on Goodreads or Amazon or wherever else you’d care to post one. Or you can find me online at RachaelReneeAnderson.com.

  Thanks again, and happy reading!

  Rachael

  First and foremost, I have to thank my amazing sister, Letha. Thank you for sharing your fun, creative mind with me and for spending hours helping me plot out this story. It’s so much better because of you.