by Violet Duke
“Deal.” Then after studying Emma for a beat, she asked, “Can today be my turn?”
Was she ready for Megan’s brand of reality today? Not really. “Sure,” she replied anyway, knowing there wouldn’t ever be a good time to face how much she was screwing up her life.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” Emma didn’t even have to think about that one. Didn’t hesitate one bit before she answered. She’d figured out her feelings about Jake a long time ago.
What she didn’t know was whether love was enough to overcome her demons about their past.
“It’s time you find out whether love is enough, darn it,” demanded Megan the next day when she stomped into the bakery.
Emma stared in shock at the roaring lioness before her, who looked and sounded just like her sister but couldn’t possibly be. “Megan?” She almost poked the magnificently worked-up creature to make sure she wasn’t a figment of her wildly creative imagination.
The sister look-alike was not to be deterred. “Look, tomorrow is Jake’s birthday. Did you know that?”
Emma felt the blow land squarely on her solar plexus. She’d known Jake was born in May, but he’d never told her the exact date. Purposely changed the subject when she’d slyly try to get it out of him.
He’d always said he wasn’t a big birthday person, at least when it came to his own. And she knew his mom had a lot to do with that.
“No, I didn’t. Jake said he doesn’t celebrate his birthday. Doesn’t even let his brother and sister make a fuss.”
“From what I can tell, he doesn’t,” agreed Megan. “But he’s been a great friend, and he’s doing an outstanding job on the library. So I’m going to drop off a birthday gift for him tomorrow anyway.”
When Emma stood there mutely, unsure of how to respond, Megan sighed. “Look, I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re still working through stuff and looking for answers. But this is Jake’s birthday we’re talking about here. Are you going to show up for his birthday like you never fail to do for every senior citizen who doesn’t have family visiting them at the local care home anymore? Or are you going to be a stubborn butthead?”
Yes, this was definitely a doppelgänger standing before her. The real Megan would never call her a butthead.
The Megan doppelgänger drilled her with a look. “I’ll be here at eleven sharp tomorrow morning with the car. If you decide you’re not going to be a butthead, be ready and waiting for me tomorrow. Janet can cover the bakery for a few hours.”
And then she was gone.
The Megan doppelgänger was scary.
But also very, very wise.
Frankly, Emma wasn’t sure whether she was going to be a butthead tomorrow or not. All she did know was that right there, right then, she couldn’t stop thinking about a story Jake had once told her.
“Chocolate strawberry shortcake with whipped cream,” he’d answered immediately when she’d asked what his favorite cake was. He’d had this boyishly happy look on his face when he’d said it, too.
For good reason. It was the cake his mom used to make for him every year for his birthday.
“My first year in juvie, I’d hoped and prayed that she’d bring that cake. Because the lucky ones did. The ones who had family who loved and cared and remembered, who would bring a birthday cake for their birthday.” He hadn’t been able to meet her eyes as he told her how much it hurt that she never came either year. “That first year on my birthday, I waited for her all day and all night. I wanted that cake so badly. Because it was my only source of hope.”
If his mom couldn’t bring herself to come to wish him a happy birthday, he figured there really was no repairing things between them.
He’d been right.
Jake told Emma that his mother had never spoken to him since, and he’d likewise never had a birthday cake since.
Emma had nearly bawled her eyes out by the end of the story.
And she nearly cried again today realizing that she hadn’t told him why that story had affected her so badly. Not because she’d been hiding it from him, but because she’d been hiding the truth from herself.
Not even Megan knew that their stepmom had flat out told Emma that she’d never forgive her for her son’s death.
“I trusted you to take care of him that night. Not just a random babysitter, but you, his big sister. And you let us both down. My son’s dead because you didn’t protect him like you said you would. And I’ll never forgive you for that, Emma. Ever.”
Later she’d also told Emma that their marriage failing was also her fault.
Emma at sixteen had been utterly heartbroken after hearing that. Had believed her stepmom. Had blamed herself entirely for it all.
Emma at twenty-nine understood just how cruel and wrong her stepmom had been for saying those things to her. Understood that it wasn’t she who’d let her stepmom down, but the other way around.
“I should’ve told Jake that,” she whispered to the empty bakery. Of course, she’d comforted Jake and told her how awful it was that his mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate his birthday. But she hadn’t told him her story. Hadn’t showed him that they were kindred spirits in that sense.
Now in hindsight, as she began suddenly dicing up strawberries like a freaking Cuisinart—and rinsing her tears off them so they wouldn’t ruin the whipped-cream frosting—she realized that what made them kindred spirits wasn’t their parallel experiences, and what she was feeling at the moment wasn’t sympathy over their shared pain. It wasn’t even anger or disappointment at their mothers. No. Rather, she felt an overwhelming sense of determination.
To show both their moms that they’d both turned out just great, despite not having the maternal support they should’ve had.
To no longer hide things from Jake, from her past, from herself.
And to bake that very cake for him for every single one of his birthdays to come.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next day Megan stopped the car in the last possible place Emma expected.
“Megan, what are we doing here?”
“I told you—we’re here to see Jake.”
Here?
Emma reached into the car for the box with the cake she’d worked on all night and fell in step next to Megan.
They walked through the cemetery where their stepbrother, Peyton, had been laid to rest. They’d just been there the week prior to leave flowers on his headstone for Peyton’s birthday.
Was that when Jake had first learned about the cemetery?
“Did he ask you where Peyton was buried, or did you tell him?”
Megan shook her head and whispered in the same hushed tones as Emma. “Neither. He already knew.” They walked over to the section of the large cemetery where Peyton was buried, but Megan stopped them a few rows back. “Look.”
Emma gasped.
Right in front of Peyton’s headstone, they saw a picnic blanket laid out, along with a little portable DVD player, two colorful wrapped presents, and a huge spread of food containers, which were all still closed . . . because Jake was sharing a bowl of popcorn with Peyton first.
Hand covering her mouth, Emma edged one more row closer, but then quickly hid behind a tree when she saw Jake return to the picnic blanket.
The fun Disney movie playing on the DVD player was just coming to an end when Jake began critiquing the movie as if Peyton himself were sitting right there.
“So what’d you think, buddy? Thumbs up or thumbs down? For me, I’m split. I don’t know if it’s because you and I have been waiting to watch this since Christmas or what, but I don’t know that it lived up to the hype.”
He leaned over to pop the DVD out, then slid another one in.
“Okay, now it’s my movie pick. This one is that martial arts flick I told you at Christmas might be out in time for our birthdays. Lucky for us they released it just this past weekend, so I scooped it up. Figure this one would be good for us to watch with lunch.” Jake began wh
istling as he forwarded through the DVD previews and pressed “Play.”
He then proceeded to open up the containers, revealing what looked like every item on the kids’ menu at most diners, explaining proudly that he’d made each one from scratch this year.
“He’s been coming every year,” explained Megan. “Since he got out of juvie, apparently.”
In shock over that news, Emma simply listened to Jake then begin pointing out a few of his favorite and then not-so-favorite scenes. There was an affectionate ease in his voice that made it clear that somewhere along the line in the past fourteen years, her deceased stepbrother had genuinely become one of Jake’s best buds.
“How do you know all this?” whispered Emma.
“I came over here late on Christmas Day last year to leave a poinsettia plant. Remember? We’d come in the morning like we always do, but I’d forgotten the plant. So I came back after you were in the bakery getting ready for all the party pickups the following day.”
The rest of Megan’s details were a blur. All Emma could think about was that Jake had been here doing this for years.
They both ducked back behind the tree more when they saw Jake get up and circle around Peyton’s headstone.
“When I first saw a little toy on top of the headstone,” murmured Megan as they crouched down, “I tracked down the groundskeeper to find out all the info.”
Emma couldn’t believe Megan had kept this staggering discovery to herself this entire time. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”
Megan shrugged. “I figured it was his secret to keep, not mine to tell.”
Damn the woman with all her logical moral and philosophical thinking.
“Now stop talking and listen,” ordered Megan.
Oh, she’d been listening, all right.
Just the past few minutes alone were leaving Emma a big ol’ weeping mess. Every new thing she heard him say to her little brother threatened to take her knees out from under her, none more than when she heard him officially start the birthday festivities.
“Happy birthday to us, buddy.”
Jake finished his official toast to kick off the celebration and grinned proudly at the birthday spread he’d finally finished laying out in front of Peyton’s headstone. It was definitely bigger than their usual celebration.
And undoubtedly more edible, as well.
“I know, I know. You’re thinking I won the lottery or something, right?” He chuckled. “I guess I went a little overboard this year. But can you believe it? I’ve got jobs and contracts coming out of my ears for once. And even more amazing, I actually learned to cook.”
As he finished opening the last of the Tupperware containers, Jake sat back on his heels and looked at the lavish meal he’d prepared for them this year. “Oh! Almost forgot.”
He pulled out Peyton’s juice box and put the present he’d wrapped for Peyton front and center on the picnic blanket.
“Here you go, buddy. I know how you like the fruit punches. This one’s new. I tried it, and it’s fancier than the stuff we normally drink, but I figured what the hey. We should get to splurge on our birthdays, right?” Smiling at the headstone affectionately, he placed the juice box down and then proceeded to open the present he’d wrapped for Peyton that morning.
This, too, was bigger than what he normally got—he tried not to go overboard with the presents because he didn’t like Kenny the groundskeeper having too much to clean up after the wild joint-birthday party Jake threw for Peyton every year. Since Peyton’s birthday was a week prior to his own, Jake had begun throwing these parties the second year after he got out of juvie. He liked sharing his own big day with the little guy. Sure, his siblings remembered his birthday, but it wasn’t the same as when you were a kid. With the party and the hoopla.
He always made sure to make a big hoopla.
Balling up all the pieces of opened wrapping paper, Jake plopped the big new Transformer on top of the headstone. “I found you a cool Transformer, buddy. I know you have almost all of them already, but this one even I’ve never had. I found it online. Pretty awesome, huh?” He settled back onto the picnic blanket. “You go on and play with that while I sit here and start digging into our breakfast. If you haven’t noticed, it is actually edible this year, thanks to your sister. She’s been giving me cooking lessons, you know.”
At the mention of Emma, Jake felt his heart ache like it always did.
The past week had been rough. Every day, he’d wanted to go see her, but every day he’d stopped himself. She needed time. And space.
Even though giving her both was slowly killing him, he knew it was important.
He took a few bites of the homemade mac and cheese he’d been daring enough to try his hand at that morning. Surprisingly, not bad. He held up his fork to toast Peyton. “This is pretty good. I don’t think I’ll be doing any of that instant stuff for us from now on.”
Of all the things he’d made, the pasta made him think of Emma the most, since it was one of the first things she’d taught him how to not ruin. Sighing, he put the fork down and gazed at his own unopened present. “Peyton, my man. I know it’ll probably shock you to hear this, but your sister and I started dating this year. Crazy, right?” He unwrapped the slim box and showed Peyton what was inside. “That’s right. Airline tickets. Two of ’em. And this one’s got your sister’s name on it. She mentioned how she’d never been out of Kansas, and how she’d always wanted to go to the beach. So I booked us open-ended tickets to California. I know, I know. I probably should’ve sprung for Hawaii or something, but those were crazy expensive. Maybe next year.”
At least he hoped there was a next year.
“Man, I love her. I know you heard me say that a long time ago, back when I first got out of juvie, but this time it’s more. I think she loves me back. Even when I’m driving her crazy.” He chuckled. “And she drives me crazy right back. She’s still stubborn as hell. You remember I’m sure.”
Fiddling with the pasta dish she’d taught him to make in their last cooking lesson, he murmured, more to himself than Peyton, “I love everything about her. I just . . . wish she felt the same way about me, you know?” Exhaling heavily, he caught Peyton up on all that had been going on. “But with all the stuff that happened with the fire—you remember—it’s just complicated. For her, the past is making a future for us impossible. But I’m not giving up. No way, no how. Fair warning, before I head out today, you need to help me think of a way to win her back, okay? I don’t care how crazy the idea is. I’m getting her back, man—”
“And that’s all there is to it?”
Jake froze when he heard the softly spoken statement. Hoping to hell he hadn’t just imagined it, he turned around slowly.
And saw her.
“Emma.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma watched Jake turn around in surprise as she approached the picnic blanket and set the cake box down. If she didn’t, given how hard she was shaking, she’d probably drop the whole thing.
“Do you know that you always used to say that to me back when we were teens?” She started at the beginning. “You’d teach me how to do something like play poker or fix my sister’s bike. Every time you’d always make it seem so simple, so doable. Then when you were done with your lesson, you’d just grin at me and say in this easy-breezy voice, ‘That’s all there is to it.’ And you’d always make me believe it was that simple and that doable.”
“It usually was,” he reasoned with a matter-of-fact shrug.
“For you, maybe.”
Understanding bloomed across his expression. “But not for you?”
She shook her head. “No.” She pointed her finger between the two of them. “Like this, you and me. Everything seemed so complicated, nearly impossible to me. From the very beginning. And it drove me crazy because I wanted to believe it was simple and doable. Believe it the way you did.”
“But you didn’t.” A statement, not a question.
&nb
sp; “I couldn’t. Not the way you did. I tried, though—you have to believe me. My suggesting we start from scratch and pretend like we didn’t have a past? I thought that’s what I was doing. Channeling my inner Jake, making everything simple.”
“That’s not—”
She raised a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. It took me a while to figure out that you weren’t emphasizing how simple everything was, but rather the other part. On the doable part. Am I right?”
He nodded gently.
“See, I didn’t get that until yesterday. When Megan here came over to yell at me.”
Jake’s eyes widened in impressed amusement.
“I’d been spending so much time trying to figure out if it could be as simple as love overcoming all our obstacles. Yesterday I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t. Zero simplicity when it comes to Jake and Emma.”
His eyes darkened sharply. Whether it was from her talking about love or saying it in context with their names, she wasn’t sure. But she drew strength from all the unfiltered energy and emotion his gaze lent her. “I finally figured out last night that it wasn’t that simple, but it was doable. I just . . . had to . . . do it.”
God, she sounded like a sports apparel commercial.
Jake’s lips twitched to the side, but he remained silent.
“That’s when I rewound and took another look at everything you’ve ever taught me. Fourteen years ago, and more important, over the past few weeks. Nothing you were explaining was simple at all. But they were doable.” She gulped back the wave of emotions spilling out of her heart and up her windpipe. “Just like us. We’re not simple, but we’re doable.”
Jesus, now she just sounded lame.
But apparently Jake didn’t think so. He gave her a slow smile that made her knees weak. “So . . . you think we’re doable?”
“That sounds so . . . inadequate. Criminy, I’m messing this up. I rehearsed it in my head all night, too, I swear.” She shut her eyes and tipped her head back, mentally berating herself.
Jake slid a warm hand through her hair and pressed a soft kiss to each of her closed eyelids. “I think you’re doing great.”