“So do I.”
He nodded slowly. “Why are you doing this? Helping me like this? We’re not even friends.”
“I consider that freckle-faced shithead Kiley my sister. And I love her.” He shrugged. “She likes you. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. It’s what we do in this family.”
“I appreciate it,” he said. He extended a hand. “Thank you.”
Joe clasped his hand, good and firm. “You’re welcome.”
#
Six hours later, Emily stood holding her little girl’s hand, in front of a white clapboard cottage with burgundy shutters and window boxes full of weeds. They’d driven all day to get there. Her childhood home.
She’d had to come back. Somewhere in this cottage, there had to be proof, evidence, a clue, about what exactly had happened between her father and Bobby Joe McIntyre that long ago day.
The cottage was part of the McIntyre estate, a mile from the main house at the end of a secluded drive. After her father’s death, she’d received a letter from the McIntyres' lawyer, giving her permission to live in the cottage for as long as she wanted. Aside from removing the food from the fridge and cabinets, the family had left the place just as it had been, the letter had said. Nothing would be touched. There were instructions on how she could turn on the power if and when she returned.
She figured all of that was just Bobby Joe’s effort to ease his guilty conscience. She’d never written back, just silently vowed she would never set foot in the place again.
But she stood there now, and the sun was going down. There was a hard wind blowing, twigs and leaves skittering.
“Where are we, Mommy?”
“This is where I grew up,” she said. “When I was a little girl just like you, I lived right here.”
“Wow.”
“Come on, let’s go in.” She held Matilda’s hand and went up the walk, then around to the side of the cottage where the power box was. There was a handle. She had to push it up to the ON position. Simple. So she did, and then led Tilda around to the front of the house and unlocked the door.
When she opened it, the past hit her like a tidal wave. Just the smell of the place, though a little musty and stale, was familiar all the same. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Tears burned, and she whispered, “Oh, Daddy…”
“Turn on the lights!”
Emily found the switch without thinking and turned on the lights. She was standing right where she’d been standing the last time she’d looked at her father. And the ghosts of their final conversation whispered from the corners.
Everyone agrees this will be for the best, Emily. You’re not just anyone, you are gifted. You are destined for so much more.
More? More than being a mother to your grandchild? A mother to Joey McIntyre’s baby? He really believes that?
We all agree.
Well, I don’t agree. And mine is pretty much the only opinion that matters.
Emily, you can’t throw your life away.
Just as easily as you can throw your grandchild away. Throw your daughter away. Because that’s what you just did.
In her mind, she backed up the movie, just a few frames, and tried to replay it in slo-mo.
“He really believes that?” she heard herself ask her father again.
In her mind, she zoomed in on her father’s eyes. The way his eyelids flinched, and his gaze shifted away from hers.
“We all agree.”
He’d never said Joey knew. He’d only implied it, and had been unable to look her in the eye while he did.
“Show me around, Mommy.”
Em glanced at the sofa and flashed on her father lying sideways across it. That was where she’d found him, hours after their final confrontation.
Heart attack. She’d broken his heart right after he’d broken hers. He and Joey McIntyre had taken sledge hammers to it.
And now she knew that Joey was innocent. They’d never told him. If she’d needed proof, she’d seen it in her father’s eyes, when she’d asked him flat out about Joey’s part in the discussion. He’d had no part in it. It was obvious now. It should have been obvious then.
She’d have got the truth out of him, if he’d lived. But he’d died and taken his lies to his grave.
Sighing, she led Tilda through the living room to the little bedroom off one side that had been her own. Faded posters of animals still lined the walls. There were a lot of horses. There were cute kittens and puppies and even some piglets. Puffins and hippos and several monkeys. There were miniature animals too, figurines and models, and her bedding and curtains had been wild horse themed. Tilda went to the dressing table, pulled out the wooden stool and climbed up on it. She pawed through items on the stand, and Emily leaned over her, looking on as time fell away.
She flashed back to sitting right where Tilda sat now, brushing her curls and staring into the mirror and dreaming about Joey McIntyre telling her he loved her. He would say it, she just knew he would. How could he look at her the way he did, with those soulful brown eyes, and not love her?
“Will you paint my nails, Mommy?”
She came back to the present, saw Tilda picking up one bottle of nail polish after another. The mirror had a photo of her and Joey on their first day of Kindergarten, standing side by side, backpacks in place. She would have been terrified if Joey hadn’t been going, too.
“Who is that, Mommy?” Tilda asked, tugging the photo from the mirror.
“That’s Mommy,” she said, putting her fingertip on her own image. Then she moved it and said, “And that’s your daddy.”
“Wow!”
“You look like him, Tilda. Those brown eyes could melt a fudgesicle.”
“My hair is like yours.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Emily asked, stroking her daughter’s curls.
They headed back to the kitchen, and Emily put away the few groceries she’d bought on the way and made them soup and sandwiches for supper. Then they played in the back yard before coming in for a bath and a story.
And finally, Tilda was asleep in Emily’s childhood bed, and Emily was alone with her memories. It was amazing how strongly the old feelings came back, just as fresh as if they were new again. The zing of being madly in love with a beautiful young man. The way she’d felt before the lie. When she thought he loved her, too.
My God, what if he had?
A very light tap came on the cottage door. Frowning, she went to answer it, and found herself face to face with Joey McIntyre’s mother.
Judith hadn’t changed at all. Her hair was still long and naturally wavy, and she still wore it shoulder length with a slight side part. The curls were white now, but you couldn’t be blamed for mistaking them for platinum blond because her face was so exquisite. The cheekbones were the kicker, and those light blue eyes that still sparkled. She was thinner than Emily remembered. The curves of youth were long gone. She was slender now, and it made her seem taller and more graceful when she moved.
“Hello, Emily,” she said softly. “I understand I have a granddaughter.”
Emily lowered her head. “She’s um…asleep right now.”
“Could I just… look at her?” Her voice was so soft, her eyes so hopeful. She didn’t seem, in that moment, like a billionaire member of the Texas elite. She seemed almost like a child herself.
“Of course you can. Come in.”
She walked into the cottage, looking around as she did. As Em led the way to the bedroom, she spoke softly, feeling awkward and needing to fill the silence with something. “Thank you for keeping the place for me. I was…pretty surprised to see how little had changed.”
“I’ve always considered you a part of my family, Emily.”
Em walked into the bedroom, and Judith followed. Then she stood beside the bed, gazing down at her grandchild for a long moment, absolute wonder and awe in her eyes, until a hitch in her breathing made a soft sound. Pressing her hand to her lips, Judith backed silently out of the room and pulled the door closed.
&n
bsp; “She’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful, Em.”
“She has Joey’s eyes,” Em said softly. “I’m really sorry I kept her from you.” She thought, even as she’d said the words, that they were nowhere near enough. She’d hurt a lot of people with her decision to run away and keep Tilda’s existence a secret.
Judith nodded. “I know why you did it.”
“How?” She walked to the kitchen, Judith beside her, and made them each a cup of tea.
“Bobby Joe called right after you arrived in Big Falls,” Judith said, taking a seat at the little table. “He told me what he did, all those years ago. And he also told me why he kept it from me. He knew I would tell Joey, and that Joey would be devastated to learn your decision, and he didn’t want to put him through that. He believed it was a done deal.”
“That’s what he told Joey, too.” Emily sipped her tea slowly, to gather courage for the rest. “But he gave my father fifty thousand dollars.”
“I know. He says your father asked him for it. He was so angry, both over your decision to abort his grandchild and for what he considered your father’s betrayal.” She sighed. “I know that’s really an awful thing to think about your dad, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to believe it. But I can only tell you that I know Bobby Joe, and I know when he’s lying. And I believe him.” Then she added, “And he did fire your father that day. I was furious but he refused to tell me why.”
She sipped her tea while Emily digested all of that. Then she said, “I can tell you this, sweetheart. He mourned that baby. After your father’s death, he was inconsolable. I thought it was because Henry had been with us for so long, thought he was grieving. And he was. But now I know it wasn’t for Henry. It was for that little girl in there. She smiled through wet eyes as she gazed toward the bedroom door. “Thank goodness his grief was misplaced. Thank God. Thank you, Emily.”
Emily frowned, because Judith was sincere. Could it really be true? Could her father have demanded the money and told Bobby Joe the abortion was a fait accompli?
“How long are you staying, Emily?”
“Just overnight.”
Judith’s smile was quick and bright. “Will you bring her by the house for breakfast in the morning? Just for an hour or two? Give me a chance to get to know her just little bit before you head back to Big Falls.”
Emily nodded. “Yes. Of course I will. You’re her grandmother.”
At that word, Judith pressed perfectly manicured fingertips to her lips, and her tears spilled over. “I’m a grandmother,” she whispered. “Lord, this is such a gift. A miracle, really.”
Emily saw her joy and wondered…. “Did Bobby Joe tell you about her condition?” she asked softly.
Judith nodded. “Yes, he did. Bobby Joe has more money than God, Emily, and I have nearly as much. Tilda’s going to get the best medical care there is. I promise.”
Judith finished her tea and got to her feet, then leaned down, stroked a hand over Emily’s hair, and kissed the top of her head before straightening again. “When I think of you so young, all alone and afraid and pregnant…” She shook her head slowly. “And yet, you had her. You raised her. You finished school. You started your own business.” She looked Emily right in the eyes and said, “I’m proud of you, Emily. And my granddaughter is blessed to have you as her mother.”
Chapter Nine
“Where is she?” Joey asked.
He was standing on Ida Mae Peabody’s big front porch, talking to the aging innkeeper through her slightly-open door. Emily hadn’t been answering her phone all day. He knew he’d ticked her off at breakfast, first by showing up uninvited, and then by defending his father. But when he’d arrived to find her van gone, panic had set in.
What if she wasn’t coming back? What if the past few days were all the time he would ever get with his little girl? What if Tilda got sick and he wasn’t there to help her?
“I’m not her keeper, Joseph,” Ida Mae said. “I don’t know where she went, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“Well, when did she leave? You can tell me that, can’t you?”
“Right after breakfast.” Ida Mae bit her lip. “Listen, this is my place of business and she’s a guest. I really can’t say any more. I won’t.”
“Did she check out? Did she take her things?”
“I told you, I’m not saying more.” She started to close the door.
Joe stuck his foot in it. “Let me in so I can check her room, then.”
“No!”
“Ida Mae, she has my little girl.” He started to push the door open.
She pulled it wider, surprising him, but then suddenly slammed it on his foot with more strength than a seventy-year-old should have been able to muster. He yipped, held his foot in one hand and hopped.
Locks turned audibly. “Go home, Joseph McIntyre!”
“Dammit, Ida Mae, she took Matilda Louise!” He knocked and knocked again. He poked the doorbell several times. But Ida Mae did not respond in any way.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” He had known Emily was mad at him, but he hadn’t imagined she would take Tilda and run. And now he didn’t know what the hell to do.
He tugged out his phone to Call Caleb.
Cal’s latest receptionist answered. He’d been through several in the past few months. “Montgomery Law Office. How may we—“
“Put Caleb on. Hurry.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“I’m his brother-in-law and it’s urgent. Put him on the phone.” He wasn’t being very nice, and he figured he’d regret it later. But right then—
“Joe?” Caleb asked.
“Cal, thank God. Listen she left.”
“What? Who left?”
“Emily. She’s gone. She’s not at the boarding house. Her van is gone. Ida Mae won’t tell me where the hell she is or even whether she checked out and—“
“Hey, calm down. Just take a breath and calm dow—”
“I’m not going to freakin’ calm down, Cal. She’s gone and she has my little girl.” He was frantic, pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of Ida Mae’s and yelling into his phone like some kind of maniac, and he knew it, but was too afraid to be ashamed.
And then an SUV with the Big Falls PD emblem on the side pulled to a stop behind his truck, and his brother-in-law Jimmy Corona got out.
“Shit, Jimmy’s here. You might need to come over,” he said into his phone. No answer. “Caleb?”
There was no reply, and he looked down at the phone to see the “Call Ended” message on the screen. About a second later, a text popped up from Caleb.
Get away from Ida Mae’s NOW. Come to my office if you think you can act like a reasonably sane human being.
Great.
He shoved the phone into his pocket. Jimmy came to him, long easy strides, impressive uniform, whipcord build. “Morning, Joe.”
“You here to arrest me?”
“Why? You do something illegal?”
“No. Emily did. She took Tilda somewhere, and I don’t know where. I have a court order—”
“I heard you told her to tear that up. Gesture of good will or something like that.”
“Yeah, but she left. She took my little girl, Jimmy. My sick little girl.”
“I spoke to Ida Mae,” Jimmy said. And maybe his slow-bordering-on-lazy tone was supposed to calm him, but it was only making him madder. “Emily didn’t check out. She said she’d be back tomorrow.”
“Why the hell couldn’t Ida Mae have just told me that?”
“Maybe cause it’s none of your business?”
“It’s totally my business. And it could be a lie. It would give her plenty of time to take Tilda even farther away from me before I realize—”
“Where? You think she’s gonna take a sick toddler to Mexico? You’ve gotta learn to have a little faith. Now, Ida Mae says you’re scaring her. I thought she was overreacting, but now that I see how worked up you are… You need to leave. Go home, Joe.”
Jimmy took a deep breath. “So you’re refusing to leave?”
“I’m gonna stay right here until she brings my little girl back.”
Lowering his head, Jimmy muttered, “Damn you for all the grief I’m gonna get from the family for this. Turn around, Joe.”
“What?”
“Turn your stubborn ass around.” Jimmy didn’t wait this time, but grabbed hold of Joey’s wrist, snapped a handcuff on it, and spun him around. He had the other hand cuffed behind his back before Joey even knew what was happening.
“You’re arresting me?”
“What did you think I was gonna do? You didn’t give me a choice. Get in the damn car, back seat, and keep your mouth closed until Caleb shows up, you love-sick dumbass.”
Joey sighed and stomped to the SUV, got into the back. “You’re just giving her time to take Tilda farther away, Jim. You’re family.”
Jimmy closed his door, got behind the wheel and drove. “I’m the police chief, too. And while I may bend the rules for my own from time to time, I’m not gonna let you harass a sweet old lady into a heart attack.”
“Come on, Ida Mae knows I’d never hurt a fly.”
“Then why do you s’pose she felt the need to call 911?” He turned the corner onto Main Street, and drove above the 30 mph speed limit.
Joe slammed his head back against the seat rest, closed his eyes, knew he’d been acting like an idiot. “You’re right. I’m chastised.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna spend an hour or two in a cell, bro, until Ida Mae decides not to press charges.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Jimmy pulled over in front of the police department, got out, and opened Joey’s door for him. “If she doesn’t, then you’re gonna be charged with misdemeanor trespass, face a judge, and probably end up paying a fine. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It is if she gets out of the country with my kid.”
#
Joey was out of jail by dinner time. Ida Mae declined to press charges, but she did ask Jimmy to tell him that he needed to learn some manners. After that, Joe didn’t much know what to do with himself.
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