“I’m going to talk to her right now,” he said, his stern-parent voice new to Emily. “This isn’t acceptable.”
Emily stepped in front of him before he could leave the room. “That’s not important right now.”
When he opened his mouth to object, she cut in, “It really isn’t. You have a much bigger problem.”
Salem became wary. She explained about Justin White trying to force Aiyana, about her resisting and him leaving her in the ravine alone.
Shadows roiled in Salem’s eyes, dark things she’d never seen before expanding inside her quiet, stoic friend, like magma, hot and explosive just below the surface. Emily hesitated to tell him more, but he deserved the full truth about his daughter’s troubles.
“The bigger problem is what the guy did this morning.”
She explained about the tweets and emails.
“I’m going to kill the kid.” Salem stormed from the kitchen. Emily followed him.
“Oh, Salem, no,” she objected. “She already regrets going out with him.”
“Not her. Him. Justin.”
“I don’t blame you, but—” She was talking to thin air. Salem had already stalked out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. The windows rattled.
“What’s happening?” she asked his father.
Mr. Pearce, the laid-back man as worked up as she’d ever seen him, tried to run for the front door but hobbled. “Damn knees! Go after him.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s going to find Justin.”
Emily rushed outside too late to catch Salem. Mr. Pearce reached the front door just as Emily turned back.
“Will he hurt Justin?” She had no idea what he would do. She’d never seen him lift a finger to hurt another person or creature, but this angry Salem, Salem this angry, was a man she didn’t know.
“I’ve never seen him this worked up. The boy’s got powerful self-control, but this is about his daughter. He’ll be wanting to protect her from that boy.” Mr. Pearce worried his bottom lip with his teeth and watched Salem’s taillights until they rounded the corner at the end of the street. “He loves those girls fierce.”
He limped back inside. “You want breakfast?”
“No. I’d better go home.” She couldn’t eat a thing, not with worrying about Salem confronting Justin, and not while her stomach still churned with malaria. Her heart had always been attracted to Salem’s still waters, but she had also known there was a deep undercurrent he’d never shared with her.
She needed to crawl back into bed, her own bed, to pull the covers over her head and sleep for a week. She called Pearl to pick her up.
* * *
WARNING SIGNALS CUT through the red haze clouding Salem’s mind.
He didn’t want this, hated to be like this, hotheaded and on the edge of control, but someone had hurt his Aiyana. He’d kept his cool, his control, time and again over the years, but when it came to the people he cared about, he protected them. This was about his baby girl. He had to warn the guy away from her because, so help him God, if Justin hurt her again, Salem wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
Be careful. Be smart.
He knew Justin and disliked him. The thought of Aiyana with him...
Imagining what had happened, or what could have happened if his daughter hadn’t been able to get away...Salem couldn’t go there. When he got home, he would discuss her taste in boys.
Cool it. She’s young. She’s still learning.
Too young for the likes of Justin White. The kid gave Salem the creeps. He didn’t want to talk to Aiyana until he’d cooled down first, and the only way to do that was to have it out with Justin.
He knew where to find him on a Sunday—at the high school, practicing basketball. Same thing Salem used to do all day Sunday when he was that age.
As soon as he parked, he flew out of the vehicle and into the school, the hallways as familiar to him as the layout of his home.
Down the corridor, the shouts of boys and the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor lured him on.
Silently, Salem shoved open the door to the gym, taking in the scents of dust and sweaty boys. It took only a minute for play to halt because he walked onto the middle of the court and stood still, solid and immovable.
Justin White recognized him and darted behind a couple of boys. Coward. He wasn’t so tough when facing someone his own size.
Salem grasped the sleeve of his jersey to haul him out from behind them.
“Hey!” Justin yelped. “Don’t touch me.”
“What’s going on here?” Edgar Haynes stepped onto the court. Bald, burly Edgar had been a teacher at the school for years and had taken over coaching basketball after Emily’s dad had given up the job. The hand he placed on Salem’s shoulder held a message. Calm down.
They’d been friends for years. Edgar knew Salem through and through.
“Justin and I are going to have a chat,” Salem said, his voice shaking with the strain to keep violence leashed. This little shit had hurt his girl.
“Not without me present,” Edgar said. “When these boys are here, they’re my responsibility.”
“Fine. You can listen in.”
Edgar stayed close, as if he was ready for anything to happen. “You can talk to him, but let go of him first.” When Salem didn’t release the boy, Edgar said, “Salem,” his voice ripe with warning. The hum of murmurs from the onlookers penetrated the haze clouding rational thought.
Salem let go slowly, reluctant in case the kid made a run for it. “Stay away from my daughter.” The pit bull of Salem’s anger strained against the leash, begging for release.
“Don’t touch Aiyana. Don’t talk to her,” Salem ordered. “Don’t write lies and crap about her on the internet. Is that clear?”
Justin nodded and backed away.
“You touch her again, you try to force her again—” Justin opened his mouth to object, but Salem spoke over him “—and I’ll find you and rip your guts up through your throat.”
Justin’s eyes widened and he croaked, “Coach, you heard this guy threaten me. Call the cops.”
“I’ve known Salem all my life,” Edgar said. “He’s a reasonable man, which leads me to believe that you hurt his daughter. What did you do to make him lose his temper like this?”
Justin held out his hands, palms up, but his eyes shifted to the side. “I don’t know what the guy’s talking about.”
“Yeah?” Salem leaned forward. “If I go down to the ravine, I won’t find a tent you lured my daughter to where you tried to get her drunk? Tried to get her to have sex with you?”
“She’s a liar,” Justin shouted.
Salem lunged for him, but both Edgar and a kid intercepted him and held him back. “Salem, you need to leave.” Salem recognized Cody’s voice. Emily’s brother. He was strong. Salem couldn’t break free of his grasp, not when combined with Edgar’s. “Go home, Salem. Coach can handle this.”
“Go,” Edgar commanded, used to bringing teenagers under control. “I’ll talk to Justin.”
Salem shoved his finger dangerously close to the boy’s face. “You remember what I told you. You stay away from Aiyana, keep your hands off her and take that filth off the internet.”
He stormed out, vibrating with rage, as though an alien being maneuvered his body, controlled his normally rational mind.
In the car, he gripped the steering wheel and breathed hard, aware that coming here might not have been the smartest decision, but nothing could have kept him away. What father wouldn’t defend his daughter?
Salem didn’t drive home. Having his say hadn’t calmed him enough. He knew of one place that would help. He pulled the car around behind the Accord Golf and Cross-Country Ski Resort and parked in the farthest corner o
f the parking lot, a short walk through the woods to the Cathedral. But when he got out of the car, he didn’t head that way.
He took a well-trod path to the lake.
Voices down by the water—guests from the main house, no doubt—filtered from the main beach, but that wasn’t his destination. He continued on until he reached a rarely used path that led around to the far side, to a tiny enclave he frequented. He needed time to bury the beast.
Craziness still churned inside him, turning him into a person he abhorred, a man who couldn’t restrain his emotions.
He’d wanted to kill the kid. Anger swirled in him like clouds of toxic vapor. That boy had hurt his sweet Aiyana.
Once he reached the small beach he called his own, he picked up a handful of stones and tossed them into the lake as far and as hard as he could, one after the other after the other, until his arm ached. He needed the physical release of violence, but couldn’t hurt another person. Not even that kid.
When he felt he might be human again, he stopped and shot a heavy breath out of his lungs, hoping to expel the last remnants of anger.
It left him exhausted, spent like the last dollar in a lean wallet.
On the edge of the small rocky beach stood a huge Douglas fir. He rested his hand on the rough bark.
A tree hugger all his life, Salem’s only regret was that trees couldn’t hug back. Sometimes he felt intensely alone, and had for years, even with Annie, especially toward the end when her mind had been taken over by drugs.
He drew on the sharp scent of pine, on the stillness and peace of the water, on the heat and dappled sunlight against his closed lids.
When the beast skulked away, he sat on the huge rock at the back of the beach to gather himself. He hated, hated, when he lost control like that. It brought back too many memories of his past, of his mom, and the influence she’d had on his life until her death when he was twelve.
His larger-than-life mother could sing like an angel and dance around the house to old rock and roll music all day, but couldn’t manage to put dinner on the table every night, or put in a load of laundry so her kid could wear clean clothes to school. She had been passionate, but illogical in her life views. His mother, unwittingly, was the motivator behind his love of rational thought, sound reasoning and quiet living.
He’d spent his adult years crafting a life of peace. Given his explosion this morning, his lack of control over his emotions, he wasn’t there yet.
Only when he felt truly like himself again did he head home.
The first thing he did when he got there was to go upstairs and knock on Aiyana’s door.
“Come in.” She didn’t sound happy, but she also wasn’t as overtly upset as this morning.
She sat on her bed reading a book, but closed it when he entered. He perched beside her and waggled his fingers toward the book she’d hidden.
“What are you reading? Let me see.”
She retrieved the book from her far side and handed it to him.
“Tolkien? Hey, I loved this when I was your age.”
“Really? The teachers at school think I should be reading something older.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m smart.” She wasn’t bragging. It was a statement of fact. “Sometimes, I just want to relax and enjoy a book, not always have to work. You know?”
“Yeah. I know. It used to be like that for me with basketball. Sometimes I wanted to forget the drills and just shoot hoops for fun.”
He didn’t know where to start about last night’s incident, so figured he’d just be direct. “I had a talk with Justin.”
“You did?”
“I told him to stay away from you. He’s not a great guy, Aiyana. You can do better.”
A soft flush filled her cheeks. “I know that now, Dad. I can’t believe I ever thought he was cute.”
Salem couldn’t contain his surprise. His daughter had just agreed with him about something. That didn’t happen every day. Not these days at any rate. “You’re smart and attractive and kind. Don’t undervalue yourself with creeps like Justin, got it?”
“Yeah. Got it.”
“Okay.” Salem stood up. Now for the hard part. “You know I have to punish you for going out last night without permission. You’re grounded for the coming week. No TV. No going out after school.”
Her mouth dropped open as she scowled, and just like that he’d shattered their fragile harmony.
As he walked downstairs, he felt lower than low. But wasn’t it his job as a parent to be tough, even when he didn’t want to be?
* * *
ON THE DRIVE HOME, Pearl cast sidelong glances at Emily, but showed remarkable restraint in not asking when Emily had left the Jordan home last night and why she had slept at Salem’s. Once home, Emily went to her room because she craved time alone to process all that had happened last night and this morning. Salem had given her so much. Tranquility. Breathing room. A fleeting, sleepy memory of him holding her. Even though she’d awakened alone this morning, she didn’t think she’d been dreaming about his arms around her. He had been there for her.
She hadn’t felt as alone as she had in her father’s house, chockablock full of people she loved.
This morning, despite his obvious reluctance to let her get close again, he’d entrusted his daughter into her care.
Dogged by fatigue, by the lingering symptoms of malaria, she nonetheless sat at her desk. Be proactive. Handle this.
If she could urge a young girl to stand up and face her problems, then Emily could bloody well take steps to handle her own. She wanted to contact Penelope Chadwick about the relic, but wouldn’t email her. What if Emily’s account was being watched? She couldn’t send a direct message to anyone involved in the dig. What if any mail that arrived from her was intercepted and read? What if she mailed the prayer book to Pen and the authorities opened the package because it came from her? Would Pen then be in trouble?
Civil rights were a fluid concept in some countries.
Instead, Emily wrote a letter to Penelope’s brother in England. Arthur lived in London with their aging parents.
She had only ever met him three times when he had visited digs. He had been sweet and nerdy, an English professor to the bone. He’d had a crush on her, but since she’d been with Jean-Marc, neither of them had acknowledged it. While he knew how close Emily and Penny were, maybe he wouldn’t want to become involved in Emily’s problems. It was a lot to ask of someone she didn’t really know well.
It took Emily a while to figure out how to word her strange request. The prayer book had to go back to the Sudan.
She asked Arthur Chadwick to write a letter to his sister proclaiming Emily’s innocence and stating that she’d been set up, and that she would fix the situation.
She asked whether, if she mailed him a package, he would re-label it from him and send it along to Penny, so the package wouldn’t look suspicious, and whether he minded helping with this.
That done, she put the letter beside the front door. Tomorrow, she would call FedEx to have it delivered ASAP. Then she crawled into bed, because the malaria and the high emotions of the day had caught up to her.
She awoke at about five, still tired, but restless. She brushed her teeth and hair. Downstairs, she found Laura and Pearl in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Laura left what she was doing at the stove to wrap her arms around Emily. Ah. It was so good to be home in the bosom of her family. When Laura pulled back, she looked deeply into Emily’s eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be. In time.”
Dust motes danced in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows, the quiet of the house a marked contrast to last night’s party.
“Where is everyone?”
“Your da
d’s at the resort, but should be home any minute. Cody’s in his room.”
Pearl held a carrot and peeler, but watched Emily intently. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Still tired, but the fever broke last night.”
“Where?”
Puzzled, Emily said, “It was all over my body.”
Laura and Pearl exchanged a glance then laughed.
“Emily,” Pearl said slowly, as though talking to a child. “Why did I have to pick you up at Salem’s house this morning?”
Oh. Of course they would ask.
“I stayed there. His dad gave me homemade soup.”
“You could have had soup here.” Laura took a roast out of the oven, basted it and put it back in.
“There were so many people here, and I was sick. I just wanted peace and quiet.”
“With Salem,” Pearl said, her smile too knowing.
“Nothing happened.” Emily sounded defensive until she realized her sister was joking. “I just wanted to see him.”
“How did you get there?”
“I walked to the resort and found him at the Cathedral.” No sense mentioning about the need to bury a prayer book.
Laura rinsed dishes at the sink. “E-mi-ly,” Laura chastised. “I would have driven you.”
Emily hugged her stepmother and said, “Lau-ra, I didn’t want to break up the party.” She stepped away. “How can I help?”
“You can sit and relax.”
Her father walked in and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “How’s my girl?”
“Good.”
Laura sat down. “Tell us everything, Emily. What happened? Why aren’t you going back?”
She explained it all, noticing that her dad ground his teeth when she mentioned Jean-Marc’s infidelity. “I should go punch that guy out.”
Emily smiled at the thought of the two fathers, Salem and her own dad, protecting their daughters. She was a grown woman, independent, but her father’s concern felt good.
When she finished the rest of her explanation, Pearl said, “Good for you. I never liked the sound of that guy. Now you’re home.”
Always Emily Page 8