The brown linoleum floor needed a good wax. Emily Rose kept saying it would get one, but she got that nervous heartburn-looking expression on her face whenever she said it. The same look she got every time Ms. F opened her mouth. Several large windows across the room were covered with gauzy white curtains. She could see the parking lot through them. At least they were clean, and one less thing to give Em Rose the heartburn look.
“I still can’t wrap my head around the whole thing,” Jemma said.
Emily Rose sipped her coffee. “What?”
“All this trouble and money for one day? And then what? Being stuck with a boring married person’s life? All your friends will be married and boring. You’ll be trapped.”
“So not true.”
“Better you than me anyway.”
“Don’t you want to get married one day? Meet a great guy? Fall in love? Spend the rest of your life with him?”
“Love? Yeah, I’ve given up on that already. It’s not necessary.” Jemma hadn’t thought much about relationships at all over the past few years. As for marriage, she’d turned down her college sometimes-boyfriend’s proposal a few weeks before graduation. She just couldn’t see that kind of thing working out for her. She hadn’t exactly been surrounded by examples of working marriages while growing up.
“Don’t be so dramatic. I hope this isn’t about Davis.”
“What? Why would you bring him up?”
“I saw your face when we talked about him the other day. You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “Feelings? We bonded over having crappy mothers. Not the kind of stuff lasting relationships are built on.” She gestured, throwing her hands up in the air at the thought of the futility of it all. “Like it would matter if I did have any leftover feelings for him.” But he was running through her mind as she spoke.
Emily Rose scrunched her lips. “He’s such a loser. Forget about him.”
“Done,” Jemma said. But even if her head wanted to believe the words, her heart would have none of it.
“You know, there’s a lot I’m curious about,” Emily Rose said.
“Oh yeah?” She had an idea where this was going, and she didn’t want it to go there.
“Are you okay with it? All that happened—back then. Really?”
“Yeah. I’m over it. That was a long time ago.”
“What if I said I didn’t believe that? I mean, when you left here, you were in pretty bad shape. And from the way you were talking when you left, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”
“It’s true. I’ve moved on. I have a great job. A great life now. I’m really sorry I left you all like I did. That was wrong. I know that now.” She put a hand on Em Rose’s shoulder. “I’m here now, though. I wouldn’t have missed your wedding for anything in the world.”
“And being back here. It’s not . . . I dunno . . . weird for you?”
“Nope.” She didn’t want to talk about it because that would lead to thinking about it. She thought about bringing up Tara in order to change the subject. Em Rose still hadn’t mentioned her at all. Then again, doing that would probably lead to talking about Davis again, and she didn’t want to do that either. Instead, she picked up the flower catalog from a nearby table. “Show me these flowers you’re so excited about.”
Luckily, that was all it took to distract Emily Rose. They talked about flowers until Ms. F and Michael showed up.
The first word that came to Jemma’s mind when she’d first seen Michael at the airport terminal a couple of days earlier was “tool”, but she hadn’t said it aloud, of course. He didn’t seem to have very much time for anyone who wasn’t on the other end of his cell phone.
Emily Rose insisted that he was very busy with his job search. She’d seemed to be apologizing for him and answering questions Jemma hadn’t planned on asking.
It was Emily Rose’s decision. If she wanted to marry him, then she should. And having not seen Emily Rose in six years, she had no idea of what might have changed with her. Maybe she and the tool were very compatible. There was even the possibility that he wasn’t as self-absorbed as he seemed. Although she’d never seen Emily Rose look as uncomfortable as she did with the tool and his “dear old mother”, as he called her.
Jemma sat in a folding chair in the main hall of the community center next to Michael and his cell phone. They’d spent the past hour or so of their lives watching Emily Rose and Ms. Fletcher fight over wedding details.
Jemma’s attention to their picking at each other faded in and out. Her mind kept drifting to Davis. Emily Rose had been right. Being back in Derring was having a bigger effect on her than she wanted to admit. And he was a lot of the reason for that.
Davis Hill. He sent her heart into her throat in the time it took him to say her name. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t walked away six years ago. If she’d been able to believe him when he’d finally confessed his love for her back then. If she hadn’t just written off his confession as too little too late. Maybe she could have if he hadn’t spent every moment before that being a shallow jerk. Words were easy, actions were harder, and some words were nearly impossible to prove with any kind of action.
But it wasn’t worth dwelling on anymore. That was the past. And she’d moved on from the shell of a person she’d been and that person’s desires. She had to because being the new Jemma was important. Old Jemma was weak and sad. New Jemma made things happen.
She was brought back to their conversation by Emily Rose’s cry of disbelief. Em Rose pushed a flower catalog into Ms. F’s hands. Jemma glanced at Michael. He stared at his phone as if begging it to ring. His brown hair fell around his face so that she couldn’t see his expression. She then turned back to watch the latest pre-wedding battle between Emily Rose and Ms. F.
“Oh, my goodness. No. We can’t have blue. That is the ugliest shade of blue I’ve ever seen anyway,” Emily Rose said, running her hands through her blonde hair. “You really cancelled my flower order?”
“Emily, dear, we are not having those god-awful carnations you picked out, so you may as well get over that. If that is the only reason you do not want these lovely gardenias, then I’m sorry. It is not a good enough reason for me,” Ms. Fletcher said. “We do not have to have them dyed, there’s still time to stop them before the dyeing takes place, but you should seriously consider the gardenias. There’s really no time for a change at this stage anyway.”
They both turned to Michael. Jemma felt sorry for him, but very glad it was him in the hot seat and not her. He slid his phone into the holder on his belt clip and shifted in his seat.
He rubbed his jaw. “Uh, I think both are great. What do you think, Jemma?” He looked at her as if hoping to be tossed a life line.
Great. Way to punt, Michael, Jemma thought, turning to the two seething women in front of her.
“Oh yes. They’re both beautiful. But it’s not my day, Michael. This is a decision for you and Em Rose,” she said. And apparently for Ms. F, too.
Michael gave her a look that let her know he really didn’t appreciate being drawn back into the battle, and she pretended not to notice.
Chapter 5
Mary dropped Jemma off at the Bradens’ house because she needed the car that night for work. When she got there, she found that Carolina had arrived. Carolina had rented a car, insisting Emily Rose wasn’t going to take time out of her tight wedding prep schedule to pick her up.
Carolina was the antithesis of Jemma. Her personality was so big that it filled up the room and went all the way out to the sun porch. She could see why Emily Rose—or anyone for that matter—would be drawn to such a person. Jemma couldn’t help but think of Carolina as her replacement. And if she was, whose fault was it but Jemma’s that she’d been replaced? She’d disappeared for six years and hadn’t given Emily Rose any way to get in touch with her. Still, feelings weren’t always rational.
“Where’s Michael?” Jemma asked after droppi
ng her purse onto the black ottoman near a micro-fiber armchair.
Carolina laughed. “You don’t think he’d stick around here for this, do you?” She had rich brown eyes and a strong Brooklyn-Puerto Rican accent. Her endless legs were clad in black tights. Carolina was a dancer and she had the long, lean body of one.
“He’s at the hotel having dinner with his mother.” Emily Rose tore a lavender paper lantern, swore softly, and then tossed it into a plastic bag half full of trash that was near her feet.
Jemma sat on the floor near them, realizing from the look on Emily Rose’s face that she’d asked the wrong question. She tried to do damage control by changing the subject. “What are we making?”
“Centerpieces. They’re supposed to look like this.” Carolina held up a tea light holder shaped like a lotus flower. The glass upper part of the holder was tinted green. The base had a label around it which announced the names of the bride and groom along with the wedding date.
“Yeah, be careful with those labels ’cause the label maker just broke. We won’t be able to make any more of them,” Emily Rose said.
Jemma looked around and saw tea light holders in many different colors strewn across the floor. There were also several sheets of adhesive, clear labels lying around with Emily Rose and Michael’s names and date printed on them in black letters. Plastic bags full of tea lights lay on the sofa against which Carolina and Emily Rose rested their backs. There were paper lanterns on the floor in colors matching the tea light holders. Jemma spotted several boxes and more plastic bags across the room from them. In the corner to her left, Jemma saw a white archway that was only partially assembled. Next to it lay piles of silk and plastic flowers.
“Yeah. The reception hall decorations. The one thing she let me have control over,” Emily Rose muttered.
“Em Rose, don’t even think about that bitter hag. She’s trying to get to you. Don’t let her.” Carolina rubbed Emily Rose’s shoulder. “You got your man. Nothing else matters.”
The more Jemma saw Carolina with Emily Rose, the more she felt like the past six years had put up a wall between herself and Emily Rose that she didn’t know how to take down. She was good at lots of things, but apparently fixing friendships wasn’t one of them.
Jemma reached for a bag of tea lights just as Mrs. Braden walked into the family room.
“Jemma!” she cried. “I thought I heard you in here.” She looked just as perfectly put together as she always had. She’d cut her blonde hair into a short bob and not a hair was out of place. She wore brown slacks and a sleeveless sweater. Mrs. Braden had always seemed so perfect and glamorous. She cooked, cleaned, worked all day, and actually raised her kids, unlike Lynette. And she wore a smile the whole time she did all of it.
Jemma stood and Mrs. Braden wrapped her into a hug.
She held Jemma at arm’s length and looked her over. “Look at you. You’re beautiful. I’m happy to see you. And proud of you. Emily Rose told me about your job in Florida.”
“Thanks.” Jemma smiled. Mrs. Braden had always made Jemma feel like a member of the family.
“I just wanted to say hello. I can’t chat right now, I’m in the middle of making dinner for you all, but we’ll eat together, okay, and after dinner I’ll get right back to helping you all with this.”
“Amanda, you are amazing. Nothing like our friend, Ms. F,” Carolina said. Mrs. Braden had always encouraged Jemma to call her by her first name, but she never felt comfortable doing it.
Mrs. Braden wrinkled her small nose. “That woman. I can’t believe she stole my Emily Rose’s wedding away from us. I think she insisted we split the costs just so she could have all the control. The more you try to make her see reason, the more stubborn she gets.”
“Tell me about it.” Emily Rose rolled her eyes.
“I know, Em. Remember, you’re to let me know if she gets too bad—well, worse than usual. But ladies, I really must get back to this roast.”
Mrs. Braden headed back to the kitchen. Jemma turned back to the tea lights and glass lotus flowers.
“So, Jemma, you guys were best friends in high school?” Carolina asked, pulling her long legs to her chest.
“Yeah.” Jemma knew she sounded rude, but she didn’t really care. She wondered what it was about just being in Derring again that made her feel so snappy and insecure.
For a moment, all conversation shut down. Then, Carolina turned back to Emily Rose and they started talking about the honeymoon trip to Milan Michael had planned for that Christmas.
She had to remember that she’d had good reasons for what she’d done. She’d cut Derring out of her life completely because it’d been necessary. The only way to be successful was to put everything behind her that could cripple her.
Jemma had worked her fingers to the bone ever since she’d been old enough to do so. First to support her family when Lynette refused to do so, and then to save what she’d left of a life. She’d sacrificed whatever she’d needed to in order to make sure she would never be vulnerable again the way she had those six years ago. After finally creating a future for herself she could look forward to, she couldn’t really regret anything she’d done to get there.
Jemma tried to think about all the times Emily Rose hadn’t been there for her in high school. The problem was there weren’t too many times to remember. And none of them were significant enough to warrant the way Jemma had acted—either six years or six minutes ago. She almost laughed at herself when she realized the reason she didn’t like Carolina was probably because Carolina was now a better friend than she was to Emily Rose.
Later, Carolina stepped outside to answer a phone call. Jemma moved closer to Emily Rose. “I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s okay,” Emily Rose said, giving her an understanding smile. Jemma thought back to their conversation that morning in the community center and figured Emily Rose probably thought she knew more than there was to know. Instead of bringing up things that didn’t matter—opening old and healed wounds for no reason—Jemma decided to ignore what Emily Rose thought she knew and let the subject drop.
Jemma flipped idly through the guest list as she and Emily Rose talked about the flowers Ms. F had ordered. She gave a small frown of confusion, unable to find a name she’d expected to be there. “Hey. Tara’s name isn’t on here.”
“Tara’s—not coming.” Emily Rose toyed with a paper lantern as she spoke.
“She’s not coming to your wedding?” Jemma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tara was bad, sure, but missing Emily Rose’s wedding? She couldn’t be that bad.
“We’re not talking right now.” Sadness flickered through Emily Rose’s brown eyes, but she masked it so quickly that she probably thought she’d hidden it altogether. “She’s been worse than usual since I went away to college. Especially since I started dating Michael.”
Emily Rose had never had a good relationship with her sister, and it’d always taken such a toll on her. Apparently, it still did. She wanted a close relationship with Tara, but it seemed Tara never wanted the same with her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Who cares? She’s such a loser now. You should see her.” Emily Rose forced a laugh, but that didn’t change the fact that her voice had trembled.
“Really?” Jemma wondered what that meant, especially after Davis mentioning their short and seemingly disastrous marriage.
“You know what? I don’t want to talk about her. I don’t even want to think about her. Have you seen Davis yet?”
Jemma put down the guest list and fiddled with a sheet of labels. “What would make you think I’d do that?”
“The fact that I know you. Some things don’t change.”
There was no point in trying to avoid telling her. She was going to figure it out pretty quickly on Saturday. “He’s my date. To the wedding.”
Emily Rose’s eyebrows rose almost high enough to meet her bangs. Jemma knew she’d have to explain. So sh
e did.
***
Jemma sat up in bed that night, having given up on sleep. Being in the Bradens’ house earlier, having dinner with a real family, and one she knew so well, brought back hard memories of her own family. Contrasted with the Bradens, the Jenkinses had always seemed the epitome of dysfunction.
Jemma felt her way to the kitchen, and by that time her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for her to be able to see by the shaft of moonlight coming in the window over the kitchen sink. She grabbed a glass from the dish drying rack and filled it with water.
Lynette sure knew how to run a household—into the ground. The only thing she was really good at was making rules for Jemma. Lynette had been the epitome of “do as I say and don’t you dare do as I do.” Lynette had been especially hard on Jemma when it came to boys. And she’d found out from their nosy neighbor that Jemma had snuck Emily Rose and Wendell over one night while she was out clubbing. That had only happened once. Even though Jemma and Wendell had just been friends and absolutely nothing was going on, Lynette had of course assumed the worst.
Lynette’s assumption had led to the first and one of the few times she’d hit Jemma. Lynette yelled and screamed all the time, but hitting was rare. At least until she met Smooth. She lost her temper more often and with increasingly violent results after she met him.
The thing that had finally landed that man behind bars was the thing he’d used to destroy her mother. He’d been convicted of drug conspiracy. They hadn’t been able to get him on anything else because of issues with the evidence. But at least they got him on that.
The day after Wendell and Em Rose had come over to watch movies, Jemma worried that somehow Lynette would know. She’d dropped things all day and stammered when she talked to Lynette, but other than that, things had been normal. Still, Jemma was tense.
Then her mother followed her into the kitchen when she went to clean up the dinner dishes. Her heart sank. Lynette hardly ever followed her into the kitchen after dinner.
The Davis Years (Indigo) Page 3