22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
D eclan
The next day, I head to the airport two towns over to pick up Amelia. The online flight tracker let me know that her plane landed already. I figure it will probably take another fifteen to thirty minutes to get out of her first-class seats and head to baggage claim, where I'm standing.
But, not even five minutes later, I spot her running up to me in a leather jacket and matching knee-length skirt, yelling "You got lost in the woods without me???"
I glance around, but the baggage claim area is pretty empty except for the TSA and staff walking around.
I offer my daughter a wry grin, taking her hand luggage from her hand and turning toward the entrance. "It wasn’t exactly by choice. We went there and it started raining."
"We?"
I hesitate, but then venture on. "Yes. Emma came to find me, and she got stuck too."
"You went with Emma?" I watch my daughter’s eyes widen and even more fascination spreads. Then she pouts. "Aw. Can’t believe I missed that."
"It's not as fun as it sounds. Believe me." I told Rachel about my ordeal yesterday after she complained about not being able to reach me that morning. Of course, I gave her the abridged version (I got lost in the woods).
After laughing her head off for nearly three minutes, she said, "Oh God. You just made my day. That’s the most hilarious thing. This has been a stressful week and that just made it all better."
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." I smiled a little too because looking back it was a hilarious predicament, sans the danger.
"Oh my Gosh," Rachel continued. "I think I have a stitch. But I feel bad. Was it horrible?"
I thought about it. "No, it wasn't horrible." After wandering alone in the woods for a few minutes, Emma showed up and changed everything.
And I can't deny that night with her was one of the best ones I can remember having. Not even just because of the sex.
It is also being tucked in each other's arms till the next day, trading stories, watching her laugh...
No matter what happens after I leave this town, that’s going to be a fond memory for me.
"I have something for you by the way," I tell my daughter when we get to the car. The Jeep is still in the process of being towed, so I had to rent a Suburban in the meantime.
"What is it?" Amelia eyes me curiously as she climbs onto the passenger seat.
I debated whether to hold on to it until we get home, but I decided to do it now, so we start her return off on good footing.
I wait till we’re settled and she’s buckled in. As I pull out of the parking lot, I gesture to the glove compartment. "Open that."
She does, and I take a moment to glance over at her when she retrieves the little gift box.
"What is this?" she frowns. "Is it another Tiffany bracelet? Because I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but mom already got me a whole bunch of their bracelets from fashion week, and if I see another one, I’m going to puke."
I chuckle. "It’s not a bracelet. Open it."
She eyes me suspiciously as she opens the box while I merge onto the driving lane. Then a second later, her gasp fills up the entire car.
"No." I glance over to catch her staring at it with shock and then her eyes rise to meet mine. "Is it what I think it is?"
"Yup," I say. "Hold it up to the sun."
She delicately picks the pearl out of the box and holds it to the window. Her mouth widens into an earsplitting, gummy smile.
"That’s why I was in the Ashton Woods in the first place," I say. "And then while Emma and I were walking around looking for cell service we stumbled upon that bad boy."
"Oh my gosh." She twirls it between her fingers, gaping at the shifting colors.
"It’s beautiful," she gasps.
"Isn’t it?" I say. "If you want, I can have it sent to the jewelers. Marco is back in New York, I think. He can make it into a necklace or a bracelet for you."
She shakes her head. "No, I like it like this. I’m going to keep it in a special place." She stares at me now, smiling with her eyes and lips. "Thank you so much, Daddy. This means a lot."
"Of course." I'm not an emotional man, but my voice is suddenly thicker. She hasn’t called me Daddy in a long time, not since she was eight. "I would do anything for you, you know that right?"
She grins, nods, and then turns back to admire the pearl, rolling it around in her palm.
She's still fascinated by it when we pull into the hotel parking lot, staring at it as she hops out of the car.
I get out too, and open the back door, reaching for her luggage.
"Is Emma coming over today?" Amelia asks suddenly and I raise an eyebrow.
"Do you want her to?"
She nods. "I read a couple of strange things in the diary that I wanted to ask her about."
"Alright," I say. "But I don’t know if she can make it today. She sprained her ankle."
"Who can’t make it today?" I hear an amused voice say and we both turn around to find Emma walking towards us with a bright smile on her face.
She’s silhouetted by the sun, and I think my heart legitimately skips a beat when she appears. For a second, I forget to breathe.
Even in jeans and a band T-shirt, she’s so damn beautiful.
"Emma!" My daughter screams, and she launches herself at Emma hugging her tightly around the waist. Emma hugs her back laughing and runs her hand down her hair. They draw the attention of a couple who are entering the hotel as they make little feminine noises of excitement.
I smile. No one would believe that the two only met a few weeks ago. They hug like they’ve known each other for a lifetime.
"I missed you!"
"I missed you too, kiddo," Emma responds, her eyes glittering. "How was your trip? You look very stylish today too."
"Ugh. I only picked the jacket, the skirt was my mom's idea. Let’s go inside, I'll tell you about it."
"Ok."
Amelia starts pulling Emma to the door and she stumbles a little. I catch the wince as she steps on her bad ankle.
"Amelia stop," I say and my daughter pauses, eyeing me.
"What happened? Did I do something wrong?"
"Emma sprained her ankle." I walk to Emma, pinning her with a stern look. "And she’s supposed to be resting it and not moving around."
Emma shrugs. "It doesn’t hurt that much. Besides, I got it all wrapped up. See?" She lifts the hem of her jeans, so I can see the bandages around her ankles. She also holds up her foot and wiggles it a little for good measure.
"You went to a doctor?’
"No. Poppy did it for me. She used to be a nurse."
"And she didn’t tell you to rest it?"
She shakes her head. "Poppy once went rock climbing with a broken clavicle so she's the wrong person to be telling anyone about resting things."
"Ah."
"But I also couldn’t just sit at home doing nothing. I was so bored."
"Then paint something," I say.
"Didn’t feel like it," she says.
"No one got you pissed lately, huh."
She blushes and then sticks her nose up in the air. "Something like that. Anyway, I also had to go see Grandpa. The nurse called and told me he was awake now. "
"He is? I wanna go see him." Amelia turns a pleading gaze on me.
"We can go later," I say. "He probably needs to rest now."
"Yup," Emma concurs, while affectionately petting Amelia's hair. "But visiting hours are in a little bit and we can go then."
Amelia grins and nods and Emma takes her hand again. The pair walk hand-in-hand toward the hotel entrance. I hang back keeping an eye on Emma's ankle.
When she winces for the second time, I've had enough.
I catch up with her in the hotel lobby and sweep her up in my arms
"Declan!"
"Since you want to be stubborn, then we can do this the hard way."
"Put me down."
I note the shocked expression on the front desk clerk's face, but she looks away almost instantly as we head to the elevator. Amelia pushes the button and giggles as Emma kicks her legs and demands to be put down. I ignore all her requests, the same way she ignored mine to stay put.
Later Amelia tells Emma about her week as they make sandwiches together. Emma stays off her feet, mostly because I keep an eye on her while working on my laptop. Every time she looks like she's about to get up, I tap the table and she shoots me a sour look before thinking better of it. I smile right back at her each time.
Time flies quickly, with the easy conversation between the women, the cozy atmosphere, and the scent of grilled cheese in the air.
And then around five o’clock, we all bundle back into the Suburban to go to the hospital to visit her grandfather
A draft of cold air greets us at the entrance, along with a curious cast of people leaving, one of them being a fierce-faced, petite older woman.
We all pause simultaneously when faced with each other.
"Hey Poppy," Emma greets her. "You're just coming from visiting Grandpa?"
"Yeah." The older woman answers a tad defensively. "I was going to go hunting but the trail is closed for the day because of the storm. And I had nothing better to do, plus the rest of the crew wanted to come see your old man."
Ah. They're hunters. That would mildly explain the fatigue outfits and heavy backpacks strapped on their backs.
Though it doesn't explain why the older woman's eyes narrow on me, and the air suddenly feels chillier. I don't know how we know each other, but I'm guessing my reputation probably precedes me.
"Declan Tudor," she says. "That's you, correct?"
"Last I checked," I say. "You are?"
"Probably going to be your worst nightmare," she says. And then with a final glare from her and the rest of her group, she continues off.
"That was weird," Amelia comments watching their retreat.
"That was Poppy," Emma says.
Emma's Grandpa's hospital room is packed with basket flower arrangements lining each side of his bed and leading a trail right out the door. Despite the frosty welcome from his visitors, Grandpa's smile stays as sunny as ever when he sees us.
"Emma! And little Amelia is with you too."
"Hi, Grandpa," she says and goes to him avoiding the obstacles in her path. "You're okay!"
"Of course, I’m awake. What, you thought a little heart attack was going to take me out? Please. I'm made of tougher stuff than that." He's sitting up in bed and holds out his hands for a hug, which Amelia obliges. Then his eyes shift to me, and he says, "Ah. Declan you're here too."
"Nice to see you still with us."
"I have a question," Amelia blurts out, clearly over the niceties. "It's about the journal."
"Of course." Grandpa taps his bedside, and Amelia hoists herself to sit beside him. "And I didn’t finish the story I was telling you last time about the missing pages, did I?"
Amelia shakes her head looking all too eager to hear it.
"Alright, then let me remedy that." Grandpa takes a deep breath. "Well, to make a very long story short, I think the pages are missing because Madam Thornley may have run after one of the thieves as they fled. After they shot her fiancé, she lost her mind and ran after them, ripping off pages from her diary and pelting the thieves with the pages as she went. And then finally she just threw the entire diary at them and kept running right out of the hotel. The diary then ended up in that dusty corner where I found it.""Wait, you think she ran after the thieves, making a scene and throwing paper at them, but no one saw her?" Amelia frowns doubtfully.
Grandpa shrugs. "Well, I don’t know. It’s only a theory. Anyway, what was your question about the journal?"
Amelia takes a deep breath. "So, Madam Thornley wrote about everything that happened the day her fiancé was...you know..."
She glances at Emma, as though seeking permission to say a bad word.
"The day of the gala," Emma finally states, saving her.
"Right. The day of the gala. Anyway, she says she had an early evening picnic with V, her fiancé, and they visited Angel Oak. But that's miles from the hotel, and they would have needed to get back in time for the ball. Plus, why was she eating so close to dinnertime anyway, knowing there was a huge feast coming?"
"That's a good question," Grandpa frowns and scratches his chin. "I don't recall seeing her at the start of the ball now that I think about it. Maybe she didn’t plan on attending it. You know, she was always a strange one. She would sometimes emerge from her room when the other guests were gone, and then she would wander off and do her own thing. Once, her fiancé returned from a hunting trip and she wasn’t there. He was livid. We searched everywhere for her, and she later returned nursing a dying bird."
"Really?"
"Yes. I remember it like it was yesterday, one cool summer afternoon..."
"Not a dark stormy night?" Emma quips but Grandpa shakes his head with all sincerity.
"Not this time."
While Grandpa tells the story, I step out for a little bit to make phone calls for work. And then soon enough, visiting hours are over and we're saying our goodbyes and heading back to the hotel.
Amelia yawns on the ride back, and I suppose she's going to crash early enough thanks to jetlag.
But even after she retires to her room with mumbled words, Emma still hangs around the living room, sitting on the couch and staring out the window apprehensively.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Nothing Just...did you want me to do anything else? For Amelia? I could start unpacking."
"No, that's not necessary. You can go home if you want."
"Oh." She doesn't look any happier than that, as she laces her hands in front of her. If I didn't know better, I would think she was dreading it.
"Unless you don't want to go home," I ask. "Do you?"