by Andrea Smith
“I really need to go, Emmett,” I said, picking up my check from the counter. “Mom was still sleeping when I checked on her. I’m sure she’ll be blowing my phone up soon.”
“Come here,” he said with a wicked grin. I walked over to the sofa and bent down to kiss him. “Thanks, again, Olivia,” he said. “Call me later and let me know how she’s doing?”
“I sure will. Bye, Emmie,” I said to the baby sucking away on her bottle, her eyes fixed only on Emmett.
I left Emmett’s trailer with a smile and walked down the drive to Mom’s. I was surprised at not seeing her in the window watching the birds, or having coffee on the redwood deck.
She wasn’t in the kitchen or living area. The bathroom door was open, so I knew she wasn’t in there either.
I opened her bedroom door and saw she was still in bed. “Hey, sleepy head,” I said, pushing the olive green drapes aside, allowing some light into the dark room. She still didn’t move.
“Mom, it’s time to get up. It’s past noon. I’ll put some coffee on.” I shook her foot. Yet, she still didn’t move. I then panicked. “Mom,” I yelled and then saw the spilled pills of Ambien on her nightstand.
“Fuck!”
Chapter 30
Emmett
It was three days after Stacie had gone to the hospital, and here I was, standing next to Coop, Wayne, Ace and Slade at Saint John’s Cemetery, watching as Olivia was having her mother laid to rest. Sprinklings of neighbors from the trailer park were in attendance. Katie was holding Emmie, and Ace had his son Andrew in his arms.
The minister was reading a Bible passage, and Olivia stood next to him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, holding a single red rose in her hands. She was dressed in black, and the chilly October wind whipped around the small group of mourners pressed together beside the casket.
The minister had finished the prayers, and turned to Olivia. “Is there anything you wish to say about your mother, Olivia?” he asked.
I walked over to where she stood frozen, like a statue, and reached for her hand. “I’m here,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze, letting her know I would always be there. Her head fell into my chest and I held her–just held her. I heard Emmie start to fuss across from me, and Katie pulled her up to her shoulder, rubbing her back to quiet her. These were the two most important girls in my life. I knew I could never let either of them go.
“It’s okay, babe,” I said softly to Olivia. “Do you want to say anything? What about the song you wrote for her? It’s beautiful,” I whispered in her ear. Coop had sent me the lyrics and the melody it needed. But at this point, just saying the words would be enough.
She looked up at me with those sad, red-rimmed eyes. From all the tragedy in our lives the last few days, we hadn’t gotten around to discussing it. She didn’t even know that I had read it.
She nodded her head slowly and spoke a few words. “Mom, I still don’t know what happened… and maybe I never will.” She wiped her eyes and continued. “But that was you, Mom. Different. Unpredictable. A little crazy most the time.” She gave a small laugh under her tears, and then continued. “I know things were never perfect, but I saw how you shined in your imperfections. Nothing was ever beyond you… and I never knew what you were thinking. But I will tell you this. You were one in a million, and I loved you with all my heart. I wrote you this song, Mom. I just wish you had a chance to hear it, before you left me.”
Olivia began with the words to her song but she didn’t just say them. She sang a beautiful a capella, and like our souls were now forever connected, I joined in and sang along. Our voices harmonized, just like our bodies did when we made love. It was perfect.
We would be perfect. And we would make it.
Wanda had picked up Emmie for the afternoon and I headed over to Olivia’s place to help her go through her mother’s stuff. She was still mourning as would be expected, but there was something more, I could tell. Something repressed. I knew she was conflicted as to whether her mother’s overdose had been accidental… or done on purpose. I hated that she was tearing herself apart with the uncertainty of it. She needed to let go of it because having the weight of that burden could destroy her. I wouldn’t let that happen.
When I stepped inside the trailer, I heard the stereo playing some Stevie Nicks. Olivia loved her like an idol. I called out for her.
“I’m in Mom’s room,” she hollered out, “the back bedroom.”
Her mom’s mobile home was a lot smaller than mine, but most of the two bedroom models had the bedrooms at opposite ends of the trailer. I headed to the back and saw piles of clothing, shoes, and purses strewn out on the bed.
“Jesus Christ,” Olivia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I had no idea Mom had so many clothes, shoes and whatever. Her closet is a lot deeper than the one in my room.”
“How can I help?” I asked, my hands shoved down into the pockets of my jeans.
“Well,” she replied, biting her lower lip, “all of this stuff is pretty old, but hey, it probably has some vintage appeal. Guess I’ll bag this all up and take it to the Goodwill store. Can you go out into the kitchen and get that box of large plastic trash bags? We can just bag them up and toss them into the bed of your truck if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all, babe, I’m here to help.”
For the next hour, Olivia and I pulled the clothing off of their respective hangers, and separated them–at her orders, folding each piece, and placing them in piles. “Divide these up,” she instructed, “I want all tops, sweaters and blouses in one pile, slacks in another, and dresses in another still.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Are we OCD there, babe?” I teased. That finally got a smile out of my girl. The first one I’d seen in days.
“Busted,” she said with a giggle. “But I’m sure you can live with it.”
“I’m sure I can,” I replied, waggling my eyebrows at her.
We got everything separated and bagged up. “What about shoes?” I asked. “Do they take those at Goodwill?”
“Yep,” she replied, “they take everything and anything. I’ll bag up the shoes, if you’d go ahead and bag up the purses.”
I nodded, “You got it, but hey, don’t you want to keep any of this stuff?” I asked.
She looked up at me, “Well… umm, do you really think any of this is my style, Emmett?” she asked giving me a smile.
I looked at the array of orthopedic shoes, thick heeled pumps, sneakers and loafers and shrugged. “Guess not,” I retorted.
“Don’t worry,” she said, giving me a wink, “I have some of her jewelry as a keepsake. It’s not worth anything, but it doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t sell it anyway. I just want it for the sentimental value. Mom didn’t have much in material stuff, but she left a lot of memories. That’s what counts.”
I couldn’t disagree with that. I’d never known my own mother. She’d died in an automobile accident when I was just three years old. My dad and his mother - my grandmother - had raised me. Granny had died when I was fifteen. Dad had married Wanda when I was sixteen, so I pretty much had been raised by then.
I grabbed a new trash bag and sat down on the floor, tossing the empty purses into the bag. When I picked up a purse that resembled a small woven wicker box with handles on it, I let loose with a chuckle. “What the hell is this?” I asked, holding it up so Olivia could see it. “Awfully small,” I commented.
“Oh my God!” she squealed. “That was the purse she bought for me one Easter when I was about nine or ten, I guess. And don’t laugh, these were in style then. I had a new dress and shoes I remember. Man, I thought I was the shitz when we went to church that Easter Sunday.”
I watched the brightness return to her eyes as she reveled in the memory. It was apparently a good one. “Then maybe you want to keep it?” I pressed. “You could always store her jewelry in it.”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile, “toss it over to me Emmett.”
I tossed it to her where she caught it and held it up, turning it around. “I used to hide my jellybeans in here so she wouldn’t find them in my room,” she murmured. I watched as she turned the clasp on top, and opened the boxy little purse. A look of shock crossed over her face.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked, reaching a hand inside and removing a huge wad of bills that were rubber banded together. “Oh my God!”
I jumped up and walked over to her. I could see the bills on top were in hundred dollar denominations. I let out a low whistle. “Damn girl,” I said, “looks like you just might be loaded.”
Her face had paled with shock. “I don’t understand,” she sputtered. “How could she have had this much money and lived… like this?” she blurted.
“Calm down, babe. Let’s count it.”
She ripped the rubber band off, and divided the wad into two piles, giving me one of the piles to count. When I was finished, we switched piles to double check the amounts.
“Twenty-seven thousand, six hundred dollars,” she whispered hoarsely. “Why in the hell did she have this squirreled away?” She looked over at me as if I had the answer.
“Babe, I have no idea. I mean you should know better than anyone what her financial situation was while you were growing up. Do you think maybe that rock star dude she talked about laid this kind of cash on her?”
She stood up, putting all of the cash together and tucking it back into the purse. “I don’t know,” she said, “but I’m taking it to the bank tomorrow and putting it in a safe-deposit box for now. This fucking blows my mind, Emmett.”
I reached down and rubbed her cheek. “But it’s good news, yeah?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “In a way, it pisses me off. Look how she struggled… and how I struggled with her. Why did she let that happen?”
“I don’t have the answers, Olivia. But maybe in time you will.”
Chapter 31
Olivia
My mind was still blown to pieces. It had been over a month since my mother’s passing, and her death, just like her life, would always be a mystery. She took so many secrets to her grave. How would I ever find the answers? How would I be able to locate Zak, the man she claimed was my father? Did I even want to find him if she thought I’d be in danger? So many of her expressed thoughts were contradictory and more often then not, fractured memories at best.
What had my mother been involved in? Was she on the run from someone or something? Was she involved in some crime? I tried to think back to my earliest memory, but there was nothing that I could recall as being strange. Probably because everything she did was strange.
We’d just returned from Chicago the day before, and I’d been so busy with the whirlwind week of recording the album, which involved ten-hour days, I blessedly hadn’t had much time to dwell on the reality of my loss.
Now we had a bit of a down time. The next few months would be spent in preparing for the tour, promoting the album, which was scheduled to release mid-December, and some local venues we’d lined up until the royalties, hopefully, started pouring in.
I had considered using the money Mom had stashed away to hire a private investigator, but there were too many things I needed first. Maybe later, I would.
I put the money into two separate bank accounts. I read somewhere that anything over twenty grand would raise suspicion. I didn’t need questions for which I had no answers, especially when it came to my mother.
Emmett and I were looking at a house in Homestead Addition today. If it was what we wanted, I planned to use the money for a down payment. Emmett said he wanted to pay half using his advancement check. Depending on the percentage, I’d hope we have enough.
I had been staying with Emmett and Emmie ever since cleaning Mom’s trailer out. It had been so lonely there without her, and when Emmett suggested I stay at his place, I was more than happy to accept. I’d sold Mom’s trailer, getting a couple thousand bucks out of it.
It hadn’t taken long for me to get closer to Emmie. She had turned two months old the week we’d been in Chicago, recording. Emmett’s stepmother, Wanda, had kept the baby while we were gone, and I think she actually loved being a part of Emmie’s life. I felt the three of us were bonding. Emmie was starting to smile at me now, because she recognized that I was a part of her life. And if things progressed with Emmett and me, she would hopefully always know me as part of her life.
But what will Emmett do if she turns out not to be his?
She had an appointment for a check-up next week with her pediatrician. I knew the blood test was going to be done. Last night, I almost brought it up, but I could tell it was haunting him as well. The way he cared for her, giving her baths and checking the temperature of the water–things I would never think to do. Would I be a good mother? He was becoming such a natural, knowing her moods when she was tired, or if she needed to be changed.
If she wouldn’t eat, he thought we should take her to the hospital. If she slept too long, he freaked and thought she wasn’t breathing. Emmie exhausted him. And not once did he ever complain. He was forever calling Katie or Wanda for advice. Even though Wanda had raised no children of her own, she seemed knowledgeable about babies, and flattered that Emmett reached out to her.
I walked out into the living room and saw the love of my life pouring us both a cup of coffee. I was wearing only his T-shirt, which smelled like him, and baby spit-up, but I didn’t care. My eyes perused his backside. Shirtless and wearing faded, torn jeans. His ass looked amazing. I thought about how it looked when he was pounding inside of me, how his muscles looked as they grew taught with each thrust.
“Good morning, babe,” he said handing me a cup. “What’s that look all about?”
“You. Just how amazing you are.” I kissed him and took a seat on the couch. It was covered in baby clothes, diapers, and spit-up rags. I giggled.
“What’s so funny,” he asked, his eyes smiling. God, I loved his eyes. I hoped Emmie would have them, but at this point it was hard to tell.
“How, not so long ago, when we were in Chicago, we’d be hung-over, still lying in bed. Now, we are up at the crack of dawn, sharing coffee, like old married folks.”
“Is something wrong with being two old married folks?” he said as a tease.
“At our age it is,” I replied with a chuckle.
I felt the conversation becoming too close, too soon. We had a lot of shit to get figured out. Marriage would only complicate things. And things were way complicated already.
Where would Stacie fit into all of this? She’d be getting out of the asylum, as Emmett and I called it, before Christmas. She would always be Emmie’s mother, and the fact that Emmett and I lived together almost guaranteed she’d try to cause as much friction as possible. No, I couldn’t see her letting us have a peaceful relationship. No matter how close I was becoming with Emmie, I was sure Stacie would fill her head with so much negative shit about Emmett and me–or any woman Emmett might be seeing–who wasn’t her.
Why couldn’t she have died? I mentally gave myself a hard slap for the thought, but seriously, Emmie would be better off without her.
“So, are you excited about looking at the house today?” Emmett broke into my train of thought.
“Extremely. It says it has a finished basement with its own entrance. I thought it would be great to turn it into a recording studio. Have our own.”
“Now that’s a fantastic idea. I know Coop would be all over it, and he’s pretty damn smart with doing all the acoustic shit to make the sound quality primo. I’m sure it can be done. But I have to ask, are you sure you want us to move in together? I mean, I have Emmie, and she’s a lot of work. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed by it all.”
“My God, Emmett, you’re a package deal. It doesn’t come any oth
er way. I’m already attached to her.” Then the thought entered both of our minds. What happens if she’s not Emmett’s daughter?
I quickly brought the house subject back up. “I can’t wait for Emmie to have her own room, decorated with so many frilly, girlie things. You know, I always wanted to have a pretty room. But wherever Mom and I lived, it was always such a dump. Why? Now that I found all that money, it’s just crazy. I try not to let it piss me off, but it does.”
“Hey, babe, maybe it was better you have it now. I mean, your mom wasn’t… quite the best in decision- making. She could have lost it all. So, look at it as a gift from heaven.”
Without thinking, I stood and squealed. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
I bent down and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Emmett, you’re a fucking genius.”
“Well, thank you,” he said and pulled me down on top of him. We fell onto the couch, and a stuffed animal began playing some nursery rhyme tune.
I looked up into his gorgeous eyes and kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t you want to know why you’re a genius?”
“Oh, there’s more? I just thought you finally realized it,” he teased and kissed me again.
“That’s what I want to name Mom’s song. A Gift from Heaven.”
I reached down and pushed his ass into my already opened legs. He was becoming hard, and I wanted some of that amazing cock of his.
He reached down and unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard cock. Just as he pulled my panties to the side, we heard Emmie begin to fuss.
“Ahh,” I sighed with frustration, because I knew Emmett would rush to get her.
“She’ll be fine. My other girl needs me more at the moment,” he said as he thrust his cock into me hard.
Chapter 32
Emmett
The pediatrician had just given Emmie her shots, and she was not a happy camper. It broke my heart a little to see the tears still wet on her cheeks. Olivia was talking to her, trying to console her as I was trying to get her zipped up in her winter coat.