by Jamie Beck
Where the hell was she, anyway? Probably at church, praying for forgiveness. His thoughts strayed to that little room where she’d soothed him after his recent argument with Ryder. When he’d stumbled and acted like an ass, she’d been there to help him. Then again, he hadn’t hurt her, so she shouldn’t expect him to return the favor now. “Guess we should load up the van and push off, then.”
“We’re ready.” Mari wiped her mouth and set the napkin on the table.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled out of the parking lot. Wyatt glanced out the window and watched the inn fade away as they drove down the street. He suspected his memories of Emma would not vanish as easily. Meanwhile, her note remained stuffed in his duffel bag, waiting for him to decide whether he wanted to read anything she had to say.
Except for the night she’d cooked for Mr. Tomlin, Emma had done little more than think and cry those first few days after Wyatt had left.
She’d dodged Andy’s questions—his concern—by blaming Wyatt’s mom for the early exit. She’d told everyone that he’d decided to take a brief respite from training in order to spend a few extra days with his family before they all split up again.
It hadn’t been quite as easy to pass that story by Trip, who’d been more involved in Wyatt’s training schedule. She knew he and Kelsey had their suspicions, but they graciously let Emma slide without pressing for details. Kelsey wouldn’t let Emma’s silence go on forever, though. At most, Emma would get ten or so days before Kelsey would march to the inn and demand the truth.
The truth. Something Emma had lost sight of for a while. Depending on how one viewed it, she hadn’t been truthful in decades.
Wyatt had accused her of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. At first, she’d accepted that assessment. But the quiet, lonely stretches of time and self-evaluation made her realize it wasn’t quite accurate.
She was kind, considerate, caring, and generous. She loved her mother and wanted to make her proud. She enjoyed giving back to the community in all the ways she’d done for years. None of that had been a lie. None of it had been pretense.
The only pretense involved everything she’d repressed in order to keep her mother happy. To retain the good opinion of the townsfolk. To keep herself from making the kinds of mistakes that hurt herself and others. It hadn’t been a small thing to bury that part of herself that wanted more. That craved adventure. That liked sex and flirtation and independence.
And yet, even though her one shot at setting it free had blown up in her face, she knew in her heart she could not go back to the way she had been before Wyatt came to town. She didn’t really want to, either.
At thirty-one, Emma Duffy had grown up, finally. Wyatt had been right to call her a coward. At least, a little right. However, her time with him had helped her embrace the parts of herself she’d feared—the things that had made her feel ashamed or nervous. He may not have any kind thoughts for her now, but she’d always be grateful.
And so, when her mother finally returned from her trip, Emma had allowed her two days to settle back in before she decided to drop the bomb.
Her book launched in two more days, and she wanted to share the milestone with her mother, Kelsey, and Avery. She’d trust them to keep her secret, but would take whatever came her way if they failed. She’d told Wyatt not to feel guilty for Ryder’s accident, or responsible for his choices. Now she realized she couldn’t continue to accept guilt for however her mom would respond to her choices. Or allow the opinions of others to dictate her future happiness.
At the same time, she didn’t want to be like her dad and show no concern for whether her actions would hurt her mom or others. She’d have to walk a fine line, but she was ready to be more true to herself. Another step in the right direction, she hoped.
She finished frosting the red velvet cake and set it on the dining table. Everyone would be here soon. Her stomach tipped and turned like a Tilt-A-Whirl ride, but she kept breathing slow and steady.
“Are we celebrating something?” Her mother bustled into the dining room. “Let me guess—you have a reel of the film to show us? You know, our bookings are up this month. We owe that snowboarder some gratitude. Too bad he had to leave early.”
Emma didn’t react to the mention of Wyatt, or tell her mom why he’d helped secure some of those bookings while he’d been here. That thought wrenched her stomach, just like the white lie she’d told her mom about why he’d left early.
While she’d decided to come clean about some things, there was no reason to give her mother a heart attack. If her mother envisioned Mari’s ambush and Wyatt’s outrage, she honestly might have a stroke. Most importantly, Wyatt wanted no association with this book, so she couldn’t betray him again by telling anyone of his role in its inception now.
Revealing her own link to the book would be more than enough for her mom to handle. The personal relationship she’d had with Wyatt was, ultimately, nobody’s business but hers . . . and his.
Avery and Kelsey arrived together, chatting as they came into the dining room.
“Mrs. Duffy, welcome home!” Avery hugged Emma’s mother, as did Kelsey. “Emma kept us up to date on your travels. Sounds like you and your sister had an amazing adventure.”
“We did!” Emma’s mother took a seat, as did her friends. “You girls ought to plan a cross-country road trip, too.”
“I’ll drive,” Kelsey offered.
“No!” Avery and Emma said in unison, then they laughed while Kelsey scowled.
“Okay, let’s change the subject.” Kelsey folded her hands on the table. “Pray tell, why did you call us here, Emma. And I thought I told you, no cake before the wedding. Are you trying to sabotage my dress fittings?”
Emma cleared her throat and sat down before her knees gave out. “Sorry. I called you three here to celebrate something. You only have to take one bite for good luck.”
They all looked at each other, possibly thinking another might know what Emma would say next. Within seconds, their attention returned to Emma.
“I admit, I’m curious!” Avery tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned forward. “What’s the occasion?”
Drawing a deep breath, she plunged ahead.
“I wrote a book, and it goes on sale in two days,” Emma began, but before she could say more, Kelsey yelped and Avery beamed at her.
“I had no idea you were interested in writing. What an accomplishment.” Avery’s smile stretched across her whole face. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“Oh, Emma. An author!” Emma’s mother clasped her chest. “I’m so impressed. No wonder you’ve been so scattered lately. I can’t wait to brag to my friends, and that dreadful Connie Buckman.”
“Slow down. You may not want to share this with your friends. In fact, I’m publishing under a pen name.”
Avery’s brow rose and Kelsey’s eyes widened. Her mother frowned. “Why on earth wouldn’t you want people to know you’re an author, Emma? That’s absurd.”
Emma withdrew three signed copies of her book from the paper bag on the table. The cover, which featured a woman in lingerie and a black lace mask being fondled by a shirtless man, captured everyone’s attention. “Mostly because I worried it might embarrass you, Mom. And having watched Andy suffer from this town’s judgment last winter, I thought prudence might be the best choice. I’m still the same person I’ve always been, but I can imagine small-minded people reacting badly.”
Her mom stared at the book, her face pinched as if she were looking at a steaming pile of dog doo.
“Steep and Deep?” Her mother’s voice wavered.
“Emma Duffy, when I begged you to surprise me someday, I sure didn’t expect this,” Kelsey laughed and turned the book over in her hands, oblivious to the fact that Emma’s mom might faint right into her lap. “I love it!”
Although Kelsey’s immediate acceptance heartened Emma, she couldn’t tear her gaze from her mother.
“Mom?” Emma noted the dismayed heartbreak
written all over her mother’s face. She’d expected it, of course, but the sliver of hope she’d clung to now stuck her like a knife, sending a sharp pain to her heart.
Her mother shoved the book toward Emma with tears in her eyes. “You cannot publish that book.”
“It’s too late. It’s already been shipped to bookstores.”
“I can’t believe you wrote this! I raised you with Christian values. My word, Emma. I’m glad my mother isn’t here to see you now.”
“Grammy read books like this, Mom.”
“No she didn’t. Not like this! Not kinky books. She read some cowboy romances. Hardly this kind of trash.” Her mom’s voice warbled with pain and anger. “How do you know about these perverted things? Don’t tell me you’ve done these things.”
“Mom!” Emma knew her whole body had flushed, because her shirt now stuck to her back.
Avery interrupted, “Perhaps Kelsey and I should leave you two alone?”
“No!” Emma said, defiance and disappointment collecting in her gut, forcing her to stand up for herself. “I want to celebrate. This trash took hundreds of hours to craft. I suffered dozens of rejections before landing an agent. This book sold at auction, which means a few publishers wanted it, and was a top-pick review by a respected trade journal. I worked really hard. I know it isn’t The Grapes of Wrath, but I’m still proud of it.”
Her mother’s hands rose in the air. “Oh, for goodness sake. Proud? Proud of being a pornographer? Because honestly, Emma, that’s all this is.”
“It isn’t porn, Mom. It’s fiction. There are themes of redemption and acceptance. There are layers to the characters. Sex is just one part of the story. Yes, it’s an important part. But—news flash—most people think sex is an important part of life. Maybe you’ve just been so angry for so long that you forgot about the benefits of a healthy sex life!” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry! That was out of line. I didn’t mean it.”
“You sound like your father, always with some justification.” Her mother rose slowly with as much dignity as she could manage under the circumstances. “I will not be a hypocrite and celebrate this depravity.” She turned to go, but then looked at Avery and Kelsey. “I beg you girls not to tell anyone in town. I don’t want Emma to be known as a smut peddler. And I don’t want the inn’s reputation to be linked with this kind of thing, either. We don’t rent rooms by the hour!”
Without another word, her mother hurried from the room.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” Avery reached across the table. “I hope she didn’t completely ruin this for you. Regardless of her opinion, this is an amazing accomplishment. I’m so proud of you. But of course, I’ll respect your and your mother’s wishes to protect your privacy. I like the pen name, by the way.”
That pen name—initially a cute nod to her secret past—now served as a horrible reminder of her broken heart. She wished she could share that with her friends, too, but Wyatt had been very clear about his wishes not to be associated with this book. The least she could do for him was respect that.
“Thank you. I’m not ashamed of this book, but I know others will judge me. Judge my mom. I also wouldn’t want the people in charge of my volunteer positions to feel pressured to let me go because of public backlash. If someday I get caught, so be it. But for now, I’d rather stay under the radar.”
Kelsey sat back. “I suppose we shouldn’t tell Trip and Grey, either?”
“Spare me one of Grey’s nicknames and years of ribbing from Trip, please.” Emma tried to joke, but even she could hear the heaviness in her voice.
“What if it becomes a bestseller? Might you come out of the closet then?” Avery asked. “Give me a piece of cake, by the way.”
Emma sighed, doubting she’d ever be a bestseller of anything. Still, she’d proven she could let her fantasies run wild, so why not go with this one. “If I become a bestseller, then I’ll have money to fix this inn. Maybe that will finally convince my mom that my writing isn’t shameful. I’d still keep the pen name, though.”
“Give your mom a break. She’s always been so conservative, and you’ve shocked her.” Kelsey then stared at Avery’s slice of cake. “Dang it, give me a slice, too.”
Emma started to cut a thin section when Kelsey barked, “Oh, come on. You know me better than that.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. Since when did you ever listen to me anyway?” Kelsey gestured for a bigger slice, then snatched the plate and dug in.
“Emma, this book’s about a champion snowboarder,” Avery interrupted, having now read the back jacket copy. “But you only just met Wyatt.”
“It’s fiction.” Emma couldn’t tell the truth out of respect for Wyatt’s wishes. “We live in a ski town, so I chose a familiar kind of athlete-hero. You both know the type, don’t you?”
Because both of her friends were engaged to professional skiers, they chuckled. Avery conceded. “Fair enough, but quite a coincidence.”
Crisis avoided, for now, anyway.
“Speaking of Wyatt, have you heard from him?” Kelsey aimed yet failed to reach a casual tone.
“No.” The thought of him, as always, made her chest tighten.
“Trip is going up to Crested Butte for a few days in early January before the first qualifier.” Kelsey watched Emma for a reaction.
“I’m glad. Trip helped Wyatt a lot, especially after Ryder stepped away. I think Wyatt likes having a wingman to help point out his weaknesses.”
“Will you go watch the competition?” Kelsey asked.
“Maybe,” Emma lied, hoping her indifferent attitude would stop Kelsey’s probing. She’d love to go, but Wyatt would rather stick pins in his eyes than see Emma in the crowd. “First, I’ve got to focus on my book launch. You two could help if you leave reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.”
“Consider it done,” Avery said. “I’ll also tell some of my clients about this hot new romance they just have to read.”
“Me, too, although a lot of my clients are men.” Kelsey licked a bit of icing from her finger. “I’ll be honest, it’s going to be hard to keep the secret, but I promise, I won’t crack.”
“I think the only thing that will keep my mom from kicking me out is the fact that she’d have to come up with an explanation.” Emma glanced toward the entrance of the dining room, as if her mom might reappear. “I knew this would be hard for her to accept. But I can’t keep holding a part of myself back. And I wanted to be able to share this part of who I am with the people I love and trust.”
“I may skim the sex scenes you’ve written so I don’t imagine you in them,” Avery laughed.
“Skim away.” Emma grinned and ate a bite of cake. “You don’t even have to read the book if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know this about me.”
“I’ll read the sex scenes, and if they’re good, I might even force Trip to act them out.” Kelsey punctuated her declaration with a quick nod, and Avery shook her head.
“Let’s get going so Emma can go talk to her mom in private.” Avery stood and tucked her copy of Steep and Deep in her purse.
“Okay. Can’t afford to wolf down another piece of cake anyway,” Kelsey sighed while staring dreamily at the cream cheese frosting.
Emma showed her friends out and then marched upstairs to her mother’s room. Facing her mother’s anger should be easier to deal with than her former depression. It would take time, but hopefully her mother would accept Emma and her writing, even if she never embraced it.
For tonight, Emma would suffer though her mom’s ranting and pray that, in time, she would realize that Emma was still the daughter she’d always been proud of. But as she approached her mother’s room, she heard the shower running and froze. In an instant, she’d been transported back to being that frightened thirteen-year-old girl, except this time she, not her father, had devastated her mother.
She waited, expecting guilt and panic to consume her. Instead, the unmistakable heat of a
nger began bubbling through her veins. Anger that her mother couldn’t be proud of her accomplishment. That she’d stooped to emotional blackmail and name-calling to manipulate Emma and ruin her joy. That this dynamic had cost Emma so much over her lifetime, and more recently, had cost her Wyatt.
Rather than walk inside and placate her mother, she turned away and went to her room. No longer would she repeat old patterns and repress herself just to keep her mom happy. Happiness was a choice people had to make for themselves. If her mother chose to overlook all of Emma’s finer qualities because of one point of disagreement between them, then that would be her choice. From now on, Emma planned to live her life by her own compass.
Chapter Nineteen
New Year’s Eve had come and gone. All the talk about resolutions had only left Wyatt feeling more conflicted about his future.
His mom and Ryder were back in Vermont. Ryder had become an apprentice with some artisan pottery group. He’d discovered a real passion for pottery and possibly for a girl named Cindy, whose name Ryder casually brought up more than once when talking about his day. Apparently she belonged to this collective. Clearly another inspiration for his brother’s commitment to the art. Between that and therapy, Ryder had been keeping busy and sounding better.
Being on tour without Ryder had been hard, but at least seeing his brother move forward had tempered the loss.
Their mom had landed some kind of work-from-home Internet job that generated a little extra income. Since Wyatt had paid off her mortgage three years ago, she and Ryder were getting by just fine without him. They were happy. Only Wyatt floundered, unable to find joy doing the thing he’d always loved most.
Even now, as he shot down a chute, carving perfect, tight turns, he didn’t feel the rush that used to come from mastering the mountain.
When he and Trip finished the run, Wyatt unlocked his bindings and grabbed his board. “Sorry you can’t stay another week, but thanks for coming up here to help me get used to this mountain’s terrain.”
“You didn’t need me, Wyatt.” Trip hefted his skis onto his shoulder and started walking off the slope toward the parking lot. “You got this. I wouldn’t blow sunshine up your ass, either. I know they’ve roped off the competition course until game day, but we covered a lot of similar terrain. You shouldn’t have any major surprises. Keep loose and have fun. Hopefully they’ll get some fresh pow this coming week so the course is soft.”