Eamon

by Vivi Holt

  She pressed her fingertips against her eyes with a groan. When she opened them again she could see him watching her with interest.

  "What you mean is, they won't approve of me." He stated, as though he finally understood.

  She nodded. Unable to find the words.

  He let out a short sigh, then offered her a smile. "Okay. That's fine. We'll just have to prove them wrong. Won't we?"

  She nodded, but she knew that was impossible. Her parents were never wrong, at least not in their own eyes. And they'd never approve of Eamon Williams as a match for their little girl. And that's how they saw her, as their little girl. As if they still had a say in every aspect of how she lived her life. Her heart sank at the thought of it, but she continued smiling as Eamon helped her to her feet, and they went back to the business of fishing.

  Chapter 10

  Emily crunched a mouthful of Shredded Wheat and read the back of the cereal box. Her phone sat beside her, and she glanced at the black screen – still no response to the dozens of resumes she’d sent out. She’d received the automated “thank you for your application” responses, but nothing about an interview or the possibility of an opening.

  Granted, she already had a job – she’d called Dr. Hamilton when she returned from her fishing trip with Eamon and accepted his offer – but she wasn’t applying for now, it was for the future. She had to think of her future … at least that’s what her mother would say. She had no idea what her father would say.

  She hadn't spoken to either of them since she'd lost the position at the Brigham, but she'd received a text from them while she was still asleep in bed that morning - they were on their way home from Europe. They'd spent the summer in London and Paris, Copenhagen and Rome. And right at that moment, they were scheduled to arrive stateside. The text made it clear they expected to see her tomorrow night for dinner at their place in Cambridge, near Harvard.

  She swallowed the mouthful and looked at her phone again. There was no getting around it – she’d have to speak to them. She’d at least give them some time to go through customs, get home, unpack and take a shower before she destroyed all their plans for their only child.

  She ran a hand through her hair, took another bite of cereal, then unlocked her phone and typed a quick response to her mother: Ma Ma, so glad you’re home. Looking forward to seeing you. Can’t do tomorrow night, as I’m still in Georgia for Hazel’s wedding. Love, Emily. She hit “send” as her gut twisted into a knot.

  She got one more bite in before her mother’s reply made her phone ding: CALL ME.

  Two words, and her heart fell. With slow deliberate bites, she finished her cereal, then rinsed the bowl and spoon and deposited them in the dishwasher. If she called back, it might end in a fight and her day would be ruined. If she didn’t, Mother would keep hounding her until she did. She just wanted to enjoy a lazy Sunday in Eamon’s arms, his tender kisses on her lips. She shivered at the pleasant thought, even as she stared in dread at her phone.

  The door swung open and Eamon wandered in, his sandy hair standing on end. He wore loose fitting shorts and a tight white T-shirt, and his eyes were still half-closed as he yawned. He spotted Emily, smiled and scratched his chest as he made his way over. “Morning.”

  She smiled. “Good morning.”

  He kissed the top of her head, then went to pour himself a cup of coffee from the percolator. “You look tense.”

  She chewed her lower lip – did he already know her so well? “My parents are back in the country. They want to see me.”

  “Oh. Is that so bad?” He sipped his coffee, his free arm over his chest, his blue eyes twinkling.

  She couldn't help the way her lips curled up at the edges when he looked at her. “I guess I’ll call them … later. Ma Ma’s already agitated because she knows I’m not in Boston. The longer I can put off that conversation, the better for everyone involved.” She chuckled, then sobered.

  “So what’s on your agenda for today?” asked Eamon.

  “I don’t have anything planned.”

  He sat beside her and rested his elbows on the table. “Parker and I usually go to church, but we’ve missed the past couple of weeks trying to keep up with everything on the ranch. Want to come with us?”

  She frowned. She’d never been inside a church building before except for a museum trip – her family was Buddhist, so who knew what they’d say about her attending a Sunday service? Well, she was sick of doing everything they expected. It was her life. She could do as she pleased. “Sure, I’ll come.”

  But while Emily showered and dressed for church, all she could think of was the impending conversation with her parents. As they drove to town, music blaring over the radio and Eamon singing off-key, the only thing running through her mind was how little he and she had in common, how she’d rushed into a relationship with a man she barely knew. And what kind of answer she might give to her father when he asked her why.

  * * *

  Eamon took a sip from the glass of sweet tea and set it on the side table next to the sofa. His eyes were glued to the flat-screen TV on the wall, but his mind was elsewhere.

  “Hey, where’s Emily?” asked Parker, tossing a handful of Fritos into his mouth.

  Eamon glanced down the hallway at the closed bedroom door. She’d been quiet all through church, and as soon as they’d gotten home after lunch at the local Chinese restaurant she’d retreated to her room and shut the door. He was pretty sure it had something to do with her parents. Ever since she’d heard from them that morning, she’d seemed distant and tense. The noise of the baseball game on the screen filled the room as he reached for a handful of chips.

  “Braves are goin’ down today!” Parker teased.

  Eamon frowned. “No way. You and your smack talk … I still can’t believe you’d pull for the Nationals over the Braves. Where’s your loyalty, man?”

  Parker laughed. “The Nats are better. That’s where my loyalty lies, with the best team.”

  Eamon huffed. “Everyone’s better than the Braves this year. Proves nothing except you’re a fair-weather fan.” He usually loved talking smack with his brothers over anything competitive – and they were competitive about everything. But today his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t get Emily out of his mind – it was like she was pulling away from him already, before they’d even given their relationship a chance.

  He sighed and took another sip of tea as Freddie Freeman drove a ball into the outfield. “Suck on that, Strasburg,” he grumbled at the Nats’ pitcher.

  “Yeah, yeah” Parker conceded. “Watch your boy get stranded on first. Again.”

  Eamon glanced again at the closed door, and made up his mind. He set his drink down, stood and walked down the hallway to knock on the door.

  Emily answered from inside. “Just a moment.” Thirty seconds later, the door opened and she stood there in the white dress with lace trim she’d worn to church that morning, one that set his pulse racing. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, he asked, “Can we go for a walk?”

  She nodded, pulling the door shut behind her, and he followed her onto the front porch. What should he say? Was she having second thoughts? He didn’t want to tell her it was too late for him, his heart was already lost. He was afraid of what she might do with it.

  She stopped at the porch railing and leaned against the top plank. He stood beside her and felt the gentle afternoon breeze caress his face. “How are you?”

  “Fine. You?” Her voice was clipped, her face tightly drawn.

  “Em, what’s going on? You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why. Please, talk to me.”

  She ducked her head, her eyelids lowered against her golden cheeks. “I don’t know … I just feel like we’ve rushed into things. I mean, we barely know each other, and we’re so different. We come from different worlds, really.”

  “We do?” He frowned. What was she talking about? Did she mean Boston versus
Tifton, or something else?

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. He could see a red blotch forming at the base of her neck. “I’m not sure I can explain it any better than I already have. My parents have always had this plan for my life – they sent me to the best schools, pushed me into med school, dragged me along with them to cocktail parties and events as networking opportunities. They’ve set me up on a hundred blind dates with successful eligible men whose families come from Beijing or Shanghai, good Buddhist families with summer places in the Hamptons …”

  “So I’m not good enough for you because I don’t have money?” His cheeks felt hot and his gut twisted.

  Her eyes, full of pain, met his. “It’s not like that!”

  “What’s it like then?”

  She groaned, covered her eyes with her hands and took a deep, slow breath. “Eamon, I really like you, more than you can imagine. But I just don’t know if this can work.”

  He crossed his arms, anger rising in his chest. “I don’t see why not.”

  “My parents …”

  “… don’t run your life,” he interrupted.

  She sighed. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand plenty. I understand that you’re scared. I understand that you stall when you’re scared, and you’re hiding behind your parents as an excuse to stall longer. They’ve never even met me. They might actually love me, you have no idea. Just like you had no idea about Tifton, or about that job in town, or about me, and each time you ran and hid until you couldn’t any longer. Well … well, come get me when you’re tired of hiding – I’ll be around.”

  “Eamon …”

  “You heard me.” He turned on his heel and marched down the porch steps and across the yard. She kept calling his name, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t bear to hear any more. Besides, the property line needed checking and now was a perfect time. Let Parker have the ball game and his stupid Nationals. Let Emily stew in her fears.

  He hated how her words had cut him — as though she liked him against her better judgment. He hadn’t expected that from her, not after how things had been between them in recent days. She’d finally seemed to relax and just be herself – calm, happy, vivacious, even funny at times. But he could see all of that disappearing behind a veil of uptight apprehension and excuses, and it made his heart ache. Was that who she really was after all?

  He went to the barn, saddled and mounted a bay gelding named Pensacola, and trotted him briskly around the fields, steering him as close to the property line as trees, creeks and hollows would allow. Everything looked to be in order, and he knew he’d already checked the entire fence line after the last storm and the incident with Sassy. But he needed to be out and about, and the task gave him an excuse.

  That was odd … he spotted a single mare beneath a birch tree, nowhere near the rest of the herd. It was Maggie, the oldest mare in the group, but she had a foal and he couldn’t see it anywhere around her. He frowned and urged his horse into a canter.

  When he reached Maggie, he spotted her small brown colt nestled at her feet. She stood over him like a sentinel guarding her richest treasure. Her brown eyes followed their approach and she nickered warmly at Eamon as he dismounted and stroked her neck. “What’s going on, Maggie?” he asked, squatting beside her foal. She followed his descent with her head, leaning low to sniff her baby.

  The colt’s breathing was labored, but he couldn’t see any obvious injuries. He rested a hand on the animal’s side, feeling the rise and fall of each breath. When he listened to the foal’s heart, his ear against its side, the beat was rapid and weak. He stood and set his hands on his hips. This colt was in trouble – he’d have to get the animal back to the stables and call the vet.

  He leaped onto his mount and galloped back to the ranch house to get the pickup truck, ducking in the back door and filling Parker in when he arrived. By the time he returned, bumping and weaving over the uneven ground, the colt was in worse shape than before. As gently as he could, he lifted the foal to its feet and maneuvered the horse into the back of the truck. He raised the tailgate and hurried to get back into the cab.

  The mare trotted anxiously around the outside of the vehicle, her head and tail high, whinnying in concern. “It’s okay, Maggie,” he called out the open window of the cab as he nudged the accelerator, inching the truck forward. “Just come with us – everything’s fine.”

  When he reached the barn, he saw Emily still on the porch where he’d left her. Parker waited by the barn door. She was sitting in the porch swing, one leg tucked beneath her, the other pushing the swing slowly back and forth. “Everything okay?” she called, her voice soft and distant on the breeze.

  He pulled the truck to a stop close by the stables and jumped out. “Sick colt!” he yelled back as he ran around to open the tailgate. Maggie trotted up behind him, snorting, her eyes wide. He slipped his arms beneath the foal’s body, all long legs and downy hair, carried him into the stables and laid him on a clean pile of straw. Parker bent to check the animal’s pulse. Maggie stayed outside the fence that separated the corral from the stable, watching through the fence rails, her tail swishing at the occasional fly.

  Emily reached his side. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, kneeling beside Parker and placing a hand gently on the foal’s neck.

  “Not sure. He’s not breathing well and his heart rate’s erratic.” He rubbed his chin and drew a slow breath. “I’ve got to call the vet. Be right back.” He stood and hurried out of the stables, taking his cell phone out of his pocket as he did. He watched Emily with the colt while he spoke to Will. She was so gentle, and the smile that lit up her face made his heart ache. She’d smiled at him that way before, and when she did, he couldn’t think of a single thing he wouldn’t do for her. Harley wandered into the stables and licked Emily’s face, making her laugh.

  Eamon smiled and hung up the phone. “He’s on his way,” he said.

  Parker jumped to his feet. “I’ll go and open the gate.” He ran down the drive with long strides.

  Emily nodded and continued to stroke the foal’s side. Harley slumped onto the straw, panting, and Eamon sat beside him.

  She looked up at Eamon. “I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow morning.”

  His heart lurched. “I thought you were staying. You, you just signed a lease on an apartment.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I did, and I am. But all my stuff is in Boston – I’ve got to go back there to pack it up and ship it down here. And I need to deal with my parents, talk to them face to face about what’s going on.”

  He ran a hand over his eyes. “That makes sense. How long will you be?”

  “Just a few days. I start at the GP’s office on Monday, so I’m planning on getting back Friday to unpack and get settled beforehand.”

  He couldn’t stand the distance between them.“Make sure you give me a call. I can help.”

  “I’ll just get movers. Thanks for offering, but you have so much to do around here …”

  She stood and smoothed her shorts with both hands. “I don’t think there’s much you can do for this colt. I’ll wait for the vet with you if you like.”

  He shook his head. “No need. He said he’ll be here in fifteen. Thanks.”

  She smiled tightly, her eyes were filled with sadness. “Okay. Well, I’m going to go pack. I know Dalton and Hazel get back tomorrow, and I’d really like to tell Hazel about my new job and apartment myself if that’s okay with you. Ideally on Friday, when I get back.”

  “I promise I won’t say anything.”

  She left, and Eamon’s heart dropped into his stomach. She was leaving him – and from the way she was acting, she might as well have already left.

  * * *

  Eamon jolted awake as the sound of a car on the gravel drive disturbed the morning silence. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but he could see a glow on the horizon through the open doors of the stable. The foal lay on the straw in front of him, its breathing labored a
nd even more shallow than the previous day. Parker, propped up against the stable wall, was gently snoring.

  Eamon stood with a groan and stretched the kinks out of his neck, back and legs. Spending the night on the cold hard earth of the stable floor had left his body stiff and sore. He stumbled through the stable doors and blinked.

  The lights of the taxi idling in front of the house illuminated a patch of the yard and the side of the barn. The front door opened and Emily stepped out, pulling it quietly shut behind her. She crept down the front steps, lifting her luggage with both hands, then passed it to the driver who stashed it in the open trunk. She didn’t see Eamon watching as she climbed into the back seat of the cab.

  The taxi left as quickly as it had arrived, only the crunch of tires on gravel announcing its departure. She was gone.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced around. Maggie stood still beside the fence, one hind leg resting with its hoof tipped forward. He shook his head – Emily would be back on Friday. It wasn’t long, and it would give them both some time to think about what they wanted. He knew what he wanted: her. But she still had doubts. Maybe some time apart would help her realize she didn’t want to live without him.

  He smiled ruefully at his own wishful thinking and returned to the foal’s side. He knelt and frowned. Will had said it was some kind of heart condition, likely congenital. Unless they intended to spend thousands of dollars on risky surgery, he couldn’t do anything more for the horse.

  He touched the foal’s side. It was still, cold. The colt was gone. He rocked back on his haunches and rubbed his eyes, his heart aching. What would he tell Dalton? He reached out and tapped Parker on the arm. “Parker.”