She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “You found me.”
Sarah studied her as she continued to pet Walter. “You’ve pulled quite a disappearing act lately. New hobby?” Sarah was attempting to be lighthearted, but Emory could sense her unease.
She sat on the steps next to her. “I’ve been busy. It’s been crazy at the office.”
“And yet…” Sarah checked her watch. “It’s five twenty and you’re already home and changed.” There was no hint of accusation in her voice, just a quiet observation. They stared out at the tide as the palpable silence grew and grew. Finally, “What’s up, Em? Don’t you think it’s time you told me? Communicated in some way?”
She nodded, knowing it was. “I can’t do this anymore, Sarah. I knew going in that it would be too difficult to combine our lives and it is.” It was a lie. Or at the very least, an oversimplification of the facts.
Sarah didn’t say anything. And then finally, “So that’s it? Just like that, huh?” She nodded, seeming to let the words settle.
Emory couldn’t look at her. If she did, she would lose her resolve. “My lifestyle is fast-paced, unpredictable, and that’s what I need it to be. And that doesn’t work—”
“With an eight-year-old?”
She hated the way it sounded and swallowed hard. “Yeah. I can’t be a parent, Sarah. I’m not the kind of person who does well tied down.”
Sarah shook her head. “Emory, this isn’t you.”
“But it is. That’s what I’m finally trying to explain. I warned you from the beginning this wouldn’t work between us. We burned hard and bright these past couple of months, but that can only last so long.” She forgot herself then, and allowed her eyes to settle on Sarah’s. A mistake. The clarity of emotion looking back at her was almost enough to make her take it all back. Almost. Her voice, full of apology, began to tremble as she continued because it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. “I care about you, Sarah. I just can’t see you anymore. Please explain to Grace.”
“Don’t do this.”
Emory stood and took a few steps off the deck, hoping the distance would help. “Please try to understand. Our lives don’t fit together the way they should.” Because if she told her the truth, if she had told Sarah she loved her but would be a horrible mother, Sarah would disagree. Want her to try.
“Em, look at me.” She did, but it was hard because Sarah’s eyes were brimming. “Finding you has been like a dream come true for me in more ways than one. Before I met you, I had no idea I was capable of feeling what you make me feel. So I guess that makes you my impossible fantasy, Emory. But I need you to want us too.”
“I just can’t,” Emory whispered.
“Then you’ve broken my heart.” With that, she turned to go, and in a moment of panic for what she was giving up, Emory felt herself waver.
“Sarah, wait.” But she didn’t. She kept walking. “Wait. Where are you going?”
She turned back briefly. “I’m walking away. You should recognize what that looks like.” Those hazel eyes that had once smiled so magically were now guarded, closed to her, and the understanding slashed through her like a razor blade.
Emory stood alone, staring blankly at her cold, sterile house with new eyes. Finally, she slid down onto the steps where she sat alone and numb for several hours.
It wasn’t until the next morning that she found the two neatly wrapped green and white striped birthday presents that were left for her on her front porch.
Chapter Fifteen
“All right, that’s it. It’s been six weeks and it’s time for you to talk.” Carmen broke the silence as they sat on the bench at the small playground across from Sabro’s. “You asked for time to process, and I’ve given you that and then some. But enough is enough. Sarah, you’ve been a walking zombie for well over a month now. Did she cheat on you? Is she a drug addict? Did she rob a convenience store? What?” She studied Sarah’s face like a super sleuth of all things relationship. “She did cheat on you, didn’t she? If I ever run into her, I swear I’ll break—”
“She didn’t cheat on me, Carmen.” Sarah placed a calming hand on her knee. She didn’t want to talk about Emory because when she did, it was a hard place to come back from. “Grace, not so high,” she called. Grace was clearly enjoying herself on the swings with Carmen’s boys. “She’s such a little daredevil lately. It’s like she’s testing me.”
Carmen looked at her hard. “Don’t you dare try to divert my attention. I’m not five. It took me forever to even get you out here and in the realm of semi-social, so start talking.”
It was true. Sarah had pretty much gone off the grid, needed to. Driving home from Emory’s the day of the breakup without turning back was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She’d tried a million times to rationalize the series of events. Going in, she knew something was wrong. And she’d known all along that Emory didn’t trust herself in the relationship, but she’d hoped over time she’d find the same confidence Sarah had begun to find.
But she had to look out for more than just herself.
There was Grace to consider, and she wasn’t going to talk Emory into wanting to be a part of her life. Grace deserved more. And while deep inside, Sarah knew Emory’s rejection stemmed from fear, she couldn’t put her child in the middle.
She spent the first two weeks after the breakup in the land of victimhood, feeling sorry for herself and needing to be alone. She went to work each day and came straight home, really only spending time with Grace. She’d wanted to call Emory a number of times, but she resisted as a method of self-preservation. She knew if she heard Emory’s voice, she’d be back to square one and that couldn’t happen. Thank God for Grace. Even though it felt like her world had been flipped on its end, as long as she and Grace had each other, they would be okay. They had spent a lot of time cuddled up on the couch watching movies, but it wasn’t long before Grace started questioning Emory’s whereabouts and why she wasn’t watching the movies with them any longer. Eventually, she had to level with her.
“Monster, I don’t think Emory’s going to be spending so much time with us anymore.”
Grace frowned. “Why not? I miss her. She was going to teach me about color theory next.”
Sarah tried to explain delicately. “I’m sure she wanted to, Grace. It’s just that some things have changed between us, she and I.”
“You’re not dating anymore?”
Sarah decided honesty was probably the best way to go. “Not anymore, no.”
Grace looked up at her, clearly crestfallen. “But I really liked Emory.”
Hearing those words was like pressing on a bruise, and she steadied herself from the pain. “I did too, Grace, but it didn’t work out for us.”
Grace considered this before coming to a very resolute conclusion. “Don’t worry, Mama. You two will make up, like Mindy and me. Probably soon.” She seemed so very hopeful that Sarah didn’t have the heart to correct her.
It was in week three that the hardcore reality hit her. Not knowing what else to do, she threw herself into her work full force, anything to keep her mind busy. The article in the Union-Trib certainly did a number on her client list. She’d had to hire her own receptionist just to keep up with her side of Immaculate Home and the huge volume of calls that were now tumbling in.
By week four, the strange, numb, workaholic version of herself started to slide away, and underneath, she found that she still very much missed Emory. And not just Emory her girlfriend, she missed Emory the person. She’d come to be a lot of things to Sarah over the months they’d spent together. Her friend, her business advisor, her partner in crime, and then of course, her lover. God, how she missed those intimate moments with Emory. The smooth, warm perfection of her mouth and the scorching feel of her skin against Sarah’s. But there was still more. They’d laughed so much together. How was she going to make it through the rest of her days without that smile, those crazy dimples? For all her seriousness, when Emory
smiled, it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, and Sarah could think of nothing else that compared.
And here she sat in week five, trying to get herself back on track a little at a time, and there was now a glimmer of hope that all would eventually be okay. Of course nothing had the same shine to it, but she was getting by. She could see that the life ahead of her would be clean and smooth, not exactly the place she longed to be, but not horrible either.
It felt good to be out with Carmen, and deciding there was no time like the present, Sarah turned to her and sighed, laying out the series of events that led up to the moment they now inhabited. Knowing that Carmen would have a million questions, she did her best to spare no detail. Once everything was out on the table, she turned to her expectantly and waited.
Carmen looked thoughtful, maybe even a little confused. “And what did you say?”
Sarah shrugged. “There wasn’t a lot to say at that point. She made her feelings clear. She didn’t see a future.”
“And so you—”
“Walked away. Cried a lot. And here we sit.”
“Yeah, but is it possible that something freaked her out and she’s scared?”
Sarah took a deep breath. “Maybe. But that’s not the point. In the end, she has to want to be with us. Grace shouldn’t be a liability to anyone.”
Carmen nodded, mulling this over. “I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, but there must be a part of you that wants to know what changed her mind. Michael, if you don’t stop hitting your brother with that stick, you are going to lose all bike riding privileges for fifteen days.” Michael, wide-eyed, obliged and dropped the stick mid wallop, and instead picked up a handful of dirt and dumped it over his brother’s head. “That’s better,” Carmen muttered to herself.
“Do you really think so?”
“Well, I’m going to have to give him a bath now, but—”
“No, about letting her walk away. Do you really think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Quite honestly, no. I was just trying to be nice. I miss the spark I saw in your eyes after Emory hit the scene. It was like this breath of fresh air to see you so happy all the time. I understand why you’re upset, I do, but in the scheme of life, sometimes you have to fight where love is concerned. God knows Roman isn’t perfect, and some of the things he does make me want to shake him violently, but I love him. Do you love her, Sarah?”
“That’s not what we’re talking about here. What’s love got to do with it?”
“A lot, Tina Turner, it has a lot to do with it. Everything, in fact. Love doesn’t come in a nice neat little package. It’s rough and it’s messy and there are always going to be issues. But if it’s real, you don’t give up.”
“Can we not do this? Emory is a part of my past, and I have to do what I can to focus on the future.”
Carmen sighed and stood up. “I love you and I’m here for you, but sometimes you frustrate the hell out of me. I just want to see you happy.”
“Happy seems a bit lofty at the moment. I think I’ll settle for just getting by.”
Carmen looked at her squarely. “Make sure you’re doing the right thing.”
“I am,” Sarah murmured. “I am.”
*
Emory stepped back from the large canvas and studied the blend of blues. The texture wasn’t quite right, but she knew how to resolve the problem. She reached for a brush a tad thicker in diameter and set to work emphasizing the rounded edge of the saxophone key until the shape filled in just as she saw it in her head.
She’d been painting for three hours, and her neck was starting to tug. Arguably, this was edgier work than she’d ever attempted before, but she acted with the kind of abandon germane to someone with very little to lose, and that’s exactly how she felt.
Her phone had been vibrating incessantly from the nearby stool it rested on throughout the day, but she’d paid little attention. It beckoned her once again, and she decided to finally take her sister’s fifteenth thousandth call or it was possible she would never go away. “Hi, Vanessa.”
“Well, it’s about damn time. Do you know I’ve been trying to get you to answer this phone for a week now? Have you gotten my messages?”
“I’ve gotten them. I’ve just had other things on my plate.”
“Like what? We’re family. I called your office and they said you were indisposed. When I pestered them further, they gave me Lucy who told me you’d taken a leave of absence from the company. Is this true?”
“It’s true.” Emory sipped from her cup of coffee. “I’m in Napa, taking a little time for myself. Surely that’s something you would understand.”
“It’s just not like you, Emory, you’re a workaholic. Is this about Mother?” Emory thought she detected a hint of compassion, a rare commodity where Vanessa was concerned.
“Nope. Just about me.”
“What are you doing up there? Are you with someone?” she practically whispered. “I forget her name. Susan, or is it someone new by now?”
“I’m by myself,” Emory bit out. Which was precisely how she wanted it. She’d been in Napa, more specifically Calistoga, for several weeks now. The slower pace was exactly what she needed to gain some perspective and lick her self-inflicted wounds. She spent her days painting and reading books, either at the small house she’d rented or on the property of some of her favorite wineries. She kept mostly to herself, but enjoyed the anonymity the small tourist town offered.
The nights were admittedly more difficult. It was in the later hours that her thoughts drifted to Sarah and Grace and the future she’d grown to hope for. It had been idealistic of her, she knew, and in the end, where had it left her? In the midst of a—what exactly was this? A mid-life crisis? A re-examination of her place in this world? Who the hell knew?
“Why don’t I come out and spend some time with you?” Vanessa offered as if talking to a not so intelligent child.
“I’d rather drive a dagger into my skull.” Whoops. Too honest?
“Excuse me?” Vanessa sputtered. Her enthusiasm deflated like a popped balloon.
“Just a joke.” A lie. “But I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be here, plus you have the girls. I’d hate to take you from them. Stay right where you are. All the way in Colorado.”
“You’re acting strange.”
Emory had to agree. All of a sudden, she was quite comfortable saying anything and everything on her mind, and that had the makings of a perfect storm. “Hey, Vanessa, someone’s at the door. Better run. Door people hate waiting.” She ended the call just in time. Another minute and she might not have been so nice.
She looked to Walter who sat dutifully at her feet. “That did not go well,” she said. “I think it got five degrees colder in here when she called. What do you think?” His tail thumped wildly in support.
She carried the brushes she’d been working with over to the small sink in the kitchen and set about cleaning them thoroughly. She’d gotten paint all over her cutoff overalls, but it wasn’t like she minded. It had been a productive session.
The brushes had been her birthday gift from Grace, and she handled them with the care she would a newborn child. She knew from the brand name that they had been fairly expensive, and the gesture was not lost on her. There had been a small note attached to the wrapped package, and despite her heart’s protests, her mind thought it a good idea to play the words back in her head several times a day as some form of sick torture. “Happy Birthday, Emory. I hope your dreams come true. Maybe one day, you’ll want to use these again. Love, Grace.” Along with them had come a canvas from Sarah, another expensive purchase.
She thought a lot about Sarah and the hole she’d left and wasn’t sure how to get her old life back on track, hence her sabbatical. She needed new surroundings, a different routine, and some space from the people she knew if she was ever going to allow herself to heal. However, she couldn’t deny that the existence of Sarah and Grace in her life had kindled somethi
ng within her, a renewed outlook on what her life could potentially be. And even if she couldn’t have them, she refused to discount what they had done for her soul.
Since she’d been in Calistoga, she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and rediscovered her love of painting, and it was not lost on her that this never would have happened had she not met Sarah. There was something that felt so very right about picking up a brush again, almost like coming home. Emory lost herself in her creations for hours at a time, shocked when she glanced up at the clock.
Her work, now that she was older, seemed heavier, soulful. She thought back to her first night in town and the moment she’d set to painting for the first time in years. The result of that night’s effort sat unassumingly against the wall in her bedroom. She’d stared at it, transfixed, for hours the following day with virtually no memory of painting it. It was like her hands had taken over, needing desperately to re-create the face that had the ability to make her feel so much.
Having had time to think, she’d resolved herself to the fact that all had worked out how it was supposed to. Sarah was from a place of warmth and was incredibly likable, representative of all things good. Her family was tight-knit and loving. Emory had been out of her depth.
But no more.
If nothing else, she could at least learn from Sarah. Emory vowed to herself that she would continue to grow and explore who she was and had the potential to be. The first step had been to take a step back from Global Newswire and gather her bearings. She’d lost perspective, she understood that now, and her life was becoming the Owen cliché. Fortunately, Lucy had been more than understanding and even applauded her decision when they’d met about it over coffee.
“I think this is a good move. This place can run without you for a few months. And I promise I won’t run the company to wrack and ruin. Everything will be waiting for you when you return.”
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