Surviving Emma

by Jen Atkinson

He jerked and hummed a couple more times, but as soon my hands were warm he laid still. I could feel the knots loosen beneath my relentless kneading. I moved my way up to his neck and shoulders, rubbing until my fingers ached and my palms burned with heat.

  A tap on the door paused my movement. Jodi peeked inside and bit her bottom lip, her eyes ogling over Carter’s body. “Mr. Bear’s been here for ten minutes.” Her red lips parted, mouthing the words, holy hottness. She fanned herself, not moving from the doorway.

  “All right, I got the message. We’ll be done in five.” I fluttered my lashes in an eye roll. Ridiculous. But then I leered down at Carter’s body. I couldn’t deny what I saw there.

  “Are we done then?” he asked, making me start.

  “Yeah.” My hands hovered over his bare back and I stepped away, dropping them to my side.

  He rose from the massage table and stepped onto the floor. His red face creased where the pillow circled his cheeks and forehead. He swayed a little on his feet and took hold of me.

  “Whoa,” I said, trying to steady him with my hands on his hips, but the man probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds. If he didn’t find his own balance, he’d take us both down. “Slowly—I should have said that. You’ve been face down for an hour. Go slow.”

  “Right.” He shut his eyes and planted his feet, his hands still on my shoulders. “That was a quick hour.”

  I laughed. “It always is.”

  Light from the styling room poured into my massage area when Mr. Bear opened the door. Suddenly, he decided to assess the ceiling. “Sor—sorry, Em. I thought you’d be done.”

  “We are,” I said, realizing we looked like a middle school dance couple with our roles reversed. “You can go change. Carter just has to put his shirt on.”

  “Yep. Yep.” Corbin studied the sky all the way into the bathroom.

  “Are you steady yet?” I peered at Carter’s chest, not wanting to meet his eyes.

  “Just about.” He took a hand from my shoulder and set it on the massage table. “That’s a little embarrassing.”

  “Why?” Our pose wasn’t that compromising.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been light headed before.”

  “Oh, that.” I dropped my hands when he seemed to be steady. “Well, it’s probably good for ya.” I reached for his shirt and turned the thing right side out.

  “What does that mean?”

  He bent with a small cringe and I helped fit the shirt over his head. “We can all use a slice of humble pie now and then.”

  “Humble pie? Are you an eighty-year-old grandma?”

  I snorted. “My grandma always said that.” I guess I’d picked it up.

  “Tomorrow, I’m definitely wearing a button up.” He groaned, carefully sliding his last arm into place.

  I pulled the shirt down over his stomach and stepped back.

  “Same time tomorrow?” His blue eyes, with that touch of gray, peered down at me.

  “I’ll be here,” I said, feeling a touch woozy myself.

  With a small wince, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He’d counted out a couple twenties and then a couple more when he peered up and met me eye to eye. “How much is it?”

  I shook my head—I wasn’t used to working without pay. “No, I—”

  “Emma, you gave me an hour of your work time. I need to pay you.” He held out his wallet, the loose bills trapped between his fingers and the brown leather.

  I moved close enough to take the money—but I couldn’t. Carter had hurt himself putting together a bed for my girl. A bed he’d bought for her. I put my hand on his and pushed it down. “I didn’t have anyone booked right now, anyway.”

  He leaned down just a little and I had to rein in my instinct. Instead of smacking him, I put my hand over his face. “Don’t,” I said. His fingers clasped around my wrist and moved my hand from over his face. He leaned in again and I cringed—I couldn’t stop it. “Don’t,” I whispered, but my head seemed to tilt toward him all on its own.

  His honey breath warmed my chin and he placed a small peck on my cheek. “Thanks, Emma.”

  I licked my lips, sweat pooling on my forehead as I watched him leave.

  Mr. Bear exited the bathroom and watched with me. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Looks like you made that man another lasagna.”

  Chapter 22

  Carter

  “You buy’n Dakota something else?” Andy leaned over my shoulder to see the computer screen better. “Didn’t you already spend an obscene amount of money on a bed?”

  I shut down the screen with the pink two-wheeled bicycle. “I told you, Emma wouldn’t let me pay her for all those massages.”

  “Yeah.” Andy placed a hand where his hips should have been. “That’s awfully suspicious if you ask me. Besides, that was two weeks ago.”

  “It’s not suspicious. It’s kindness.”

  He pointed at me. “See? Suspicious. Emma don’t know how to be kind.” He sat in the chair opposite me and crossed his legs. “You lookin’ for her love language?”

  “Her what?” I shook my head and pulled the screen back up, now that Andy couldn’t see it.

  “Mary has me readin’ about love languages. It could be gifts. Is that why you keep buy’n her stuff?”

  “I’ve bought a couple things for Dakota. Why would I be looking for Emma’s love language?”

  “More than a couple. Every week you’re haul’n dog food over to that place. You’ve been buy’n groceries, too.”

  The screen changed from a pink bike to a yellow one with a white seat. I put them both in my checkout—I’d decide after I finished this ludicrous conversation. “How do you even know that?” I asked, standing and striding over to the water cooler. I filled a paper cup and downed it.

  “I talk to Virgie Wire now and then.”

  “When?” I didn’t believe him. I refilled the cup but couldn’t bring it all the way to my lips.

  “Okay, Mary talks to Virgie and I talk to Mary.”

  The idea of those three sitting around gossiping didn’t shock me, but it did annoy me—seeing how my private life had become the heart of their gossip.

  “Mary and Virgie say you’re lookin’ for her love language.”

  “Again with the love language?” I threw up my hands. “I am not looking for her love language.” I didn’t even know what that meant. The water in my cup sloshed over the sides. “Bah.” I groaned, sopping up the spill with a napkin.

  “How’s that nest egg?”

  Why had I ever told Andy about my savings plan? “It’s fine.”

  “You still got twenty-seven K in the bank?”

  I threw on my coat. “Is that really any of your business?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who told me about it. What’s it for again? Aiden Carter’s grand life plan?”

  “I’m starting my shift—early. Maybe you should ask Mary what the technical term is for jelly donut love.” I stormed outside and threw myself into the seat of my vehicle. But in truth, I hadn’t put a dime in savings since I started up with Emma and Dakota. That hadn’t been the plan. Still, I hadn’t taken anything out. I stayed the course. Though it took me a minute to remember that course. Tess and me and our future, right? I would buy that house on Draper Street one day. She always loved that house. Surely, eventually, she’d want to fill the three spare rooms with something other than craft supplies—right? A house may have been a lot more than twenty-seven thousand dollars, but I couldn’t regret helping Dakota and Emma. They seemed to be better than they were before. Emma had a light in her eyes I hadn’t noticed before. I sat with my car unmoving—not even started—and realized I’d thought about Emma Sunday’s eyes for far too long. I couldn’t decide if they were hazel or green. Though I leaned toward green.

  I blinked away the thought and started up the vehicle. Driving down main street, I waved to Jodi Barns and Alice Asan. They seemed to give me long stares and funny smiles. Did anything stay private here
? Truly, I didn’t have any gossip tied to my name and yet they made me feel like I did. Emma hadn’t kissed me again—and sure, maybe I’d tried to repeat the strange act once or twice, I kissed her cheek at the salon, but she’d never let me really kiss her again. That had been a one-time fluke.

  Which was good.

  It didn’t make me a crazy person, having moments of weakness or insanity. After all I lived in an area that bragged to be farther from civilization than anywhere else in the country. But I would go home to win Tess back—I may not have talked to her since I moved, but I kept tabs with our mutual friends. Yep, as soon as I’d built up that nest egg, I’d be gone. I already had the plane ticket purchased. I just had to work, wait out this place, build up my savings, and ignore the gossip.

  I pondered, planning and watching, as a few people walked on the sidewalk outside the town’s main road. The sidewalk. I could see every inch of the cement that made up the sidewalk! No snow, no ice. It was March—maybe spring would come after all.

  I swerved to the side of the road, my foot on the break and I shifted into park. I dug my phone out of my coat pocket and opened to the same Amazon page Andy had spied on. A few sprigs of brown grass peeked out of their snow covered bed on the yard beside me. I grinned, feeling almost giddy as I hit the buy-now-with-one-click button next to the yellow bicycle. Spring had arrived and I planned to teach Dakota to ride a bike.

  Carter

  I pulled up to Emma’s with stew meat in a Superfoods grocery sack. I’d never cooked stew meat before but wanted to give it a try. Emma and Dakota were pretty good guinea pigs to try new things out on. They liked everything I made.

  Emma’s car already sat out front, though. In the weeks she’d been dropping Keith off and I’d been bringing him back with dinner, she’d never made it home before me.

  I stepped out of the car just as Emma’s front door flung open. Taggart stormed from the house like a tsunami.

  Emma appeared in the doorway, her brown hair whipping wild in the wind. She stumbled out onto the step, her bare legs and feet prickling with goose bumps in the cold outdoors. Her crazed, red face grimaced as a roar ripped from her small figure. “Feel free to drink yourself to death!”

  “Remember your place, girl.” Taggart spat, stopping a few feet from the house and Emma.

  “Remember yours!” She pointed at him, piercing him with a glare that would have frightened the best of men. “She is not your daughter. You don’t have the right.”

  “As long as she lives in my house, Emma—”

  “No! You can talk to me that way all you want. But no—I don’t care where she lives, you don’t even speak to her.” She fingered a piece of hair from in front of her face. “You hear me?” she called as he turned his back on her.

  I passed by him, but Taggart didn’t bother glancing at me. “Emma,” I said with caution.

  Her hands formed fists at her sides and I waited for some type of explosion.

  “Are you okay?” I put my hand out, but didn’t touch her, afraid she’d go off. “Let’s go inside. Where’s Kotes?”

  “She’s at Virgie’s. I hurried her over there when he started yelling.”

  I followed her into the cabin. “What happened?”

  “He just—he exploded.” She shook her head and I feared she may start crying. “He screamed at Dakota, about books and dog toys, and nothing was really even a mess. He just yelled to yell.” A tear fell down her cheek and she swatted at it as if it were a mosquito. “He can’t do that to her.”

  I dared to put a hand on her back, but she moved away from my touch. Another tear escaped her eye and she ran both her palms over her face. “You’ve got to get out of here, Em.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” She pushed at my chest, and I stumbled a foot back. Emma’s shoves weren’t terrible if you knew they were coming. “I’m just angry.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “No,” she looked up at me, “all the time, Carter. I’m angry all the time. I’m angry at Keith for leaving, for not realizing how incredible his own daughter is. I’m angry that she looks more like him than me—he doesn’t deserve that. I’m angry with Taggart all the time. I’m angry that he’s a no good drunk, that he doesn’t work, and that never loved me. I’m angry with myself because I’m all Dakota’s got and it’s never enough.” Her fist clenched in her hair and I worried she’d rip it right out.

  “Okay. Okay,” I said, placing my hands over hers, trying to release some of her tension.

  “And,” she hollered, thrusting her hands down to her sides and forcing mine away, “I’m angry with you! You, with your cooking and gifts, all the things I can’t give Dakota.”

  I bit my lip, thinking about the bike I’d just ordered. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

  She sighed—her chest heaving with a sad, tired sound. She held a hand where her cutoff shorts and short-sleeved shirt met at her waist. She dropped her shoulders, breathing even and finally relaxing a little. “You don’t have to say sorry for being kind,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “You know what you need?”

  “A psychiatrist?”

  “No.” I chuckled—though maybe. “You’re always pushing and shoving—you need to hit something—really hit something. Let out some of that anger. That’s what guys do. One hit and then we’re good.”

  “Really?” her skeptic tone rang thick with sarcasm. “Are you gonna let me hit you?”

  “Yeah,” I pounded on my gut and braced my abs. If it helped it would be worth it. She needed a release. “Go for it. It’ll make you feel better.”

  She balled her hand into a tight fist and looked at it as if she’d grown a brand new appendage.

  I smacked my stomach again. I could take this. I’d taken more—at least I’d be prepared. “Go ahead. Just—”

  Emma swung, my face jerked back and pain exploded across my jaw.

  “Ah—” I groaned, holding my cheek and chin. “Dang it, Emma! My gut, not my face!”

  “You said to hit you!” Her fist still formed a tight ball. “You didn’t say where.”

  “I motioned to my gut. I meant here.” I took my hand from my face to pat my still clenched stomach. “You don’t hit a man in the face. Geez, woman.”

  “Woman?” She fluttered her lashes and breathed out a loud sigh. She smiled—she actually smiled. “That felt good. Really good.” She scanned the ground and then up to my face. “You were right.”

  I moved my jaw. The girl didn’t have much to her, thank goodness. I can only imagine her punch if she had a few more pounds on her. “Well, don’t do it again.”

  She shook her hand and winced with pain, but still the biggest grin I think Emma Sunday ever wore stretched across her face.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “Maybe. I don’t care.” Her fingers opened and closed.

  I snatched her hand and examined her fingers, bruises were already forming. “At least you hit with your knuckles. You could have broken your hand hitting me right in the jaw. Are you crazy?”

  She sighed until the noise turned into a hum. “Totally worth it.”

  Carter

  “So, what happened to your face?” Dakota studied me with her gleaming blue eyes.

  “There was a bit of confusion and—well, don’t worry about it.” I placed a bowl of stew in front of her.

  A low giggle rumbled from Emma’s throat. “Come on Carter, is that all you’re going to tell her?”

  I sat across from Emma as she babied her right hand, picking up her stew spoon with her left. I’m sure she hurt, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll tell you this, Kotes. Tomorrow after dinner, we’re going back to my place where we’re all going to start up yoga.”

  “Really?” She stirred the stew in her bowl, steam rising from the warm veggies.

  “Oh no—” Emma started.

  “Yeah, we are. Your mom has some anger issues and violence isn’t the answer. So, we’re going to learn to meditate.”
r />   Emma rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. How could she bicker with me when she couldn’t stop giggling at my bruised jaw?

  Chapter 23

  Emma

  “This is stupid.” Why had I let Carter talk me into this?

  “It’ll help.”

  “I’m not a yoga type of person.”

  “You won’t know that until you’ve tried it.”

  Carter had two mats spread out on his living room floor. He sat on one and I glared at the other. Dakota laid on the couch, a book in her hands with Keith asleep at her feet. Carter patted the mat next to him and I plopped onto it as if he’d forced me. Which he practically had. If his jaw hadn’t turned the prettiest shade of purple I would have told him where to shove that mat. But it had, and I really enjoyed looking at it. Besides, if his jaw hurt half as much as my hand—I suppose I owed him.

  Carter pressed play on his remote and the yoga guru of YouTube started to talk to us in a calm and serene tone. My body had been on repeat for years. I hadn’t moved it like this—maybe ever, but at least since high school. We planked and stretched, moving our limbs in ways that I’d never thought to before.

  It wasn’t terrible.

  “I’m not doing this every day,” I told him after twenty minutes of focusing on the woman’s voice and the strange ways she told me to move. “I’d rather have a punching bag.”

  “I bet,” he said, shifting his body into what the lady on the screen called a downward dog. I could see yoga being not so pretty for some, but Carter kind of made it look good. He planked again and peeked over at me.

  “And you have to stop bringing us groceries.” I sat cross-legged and straightened my back with the woman’s instructions.

  “Oo, oo!” Dakota sat up. “Except for those chocolate covered pretzels. Keep bringing those.”

  “Oh, yeah, I like those too.” I peeked back at her. I think I’d gained five pounds since Carter started shopping for us. “I’m sure I can find some at Superfoods, Kotes.”