12. Emma
Emma
There’s a faint pounding in my dreams, a steady knock knock knock in the peripheral of my cognizant awareness that beats like a hammer, pulling me from sleep.
Faint light peeks behind the curtains in my room once I’ve peeled my eyes open, proving it’s earlier than my alarm is set for. The sun isn’t even all the way out yet.
I push up in bed, frowning.
Another knock startles me, and it’s clear someone’s at my front door. I leap out of my mountain of cozy blankets, my feet cold on the hardwood floor.
Socks. I need long, thick socks.
The knocking starts again, which worries me.
Is Rosie here? Dom? Someone to tell me Dad’s sick and we need to run him to the hospital?
I check my phone while stuffing my feet into slippers, but there’s nothing except a notification from my affirmations app telling me I am wise. I am beautiful. I will seize today!
Currently, I’m not on a trajectory toward any of those things.
I race down the stairs and throw the door open, stunned to find Penny Price standing on my porch in rain boots and a fuzzy pink sweater, wearing a big smile.
“Hi Emma!”
My first thought is overwhelming relief. You don’t live through your mother dying of a stroke as a twenty-year-old without carrying some residual stress about your aging dad.
My second thought is what the actual heck.
“Is everything okay?” I look across the street, where Sharon’s car is missing. She must already be at work. Carson’s black sedan is in the driveway.
“I want braids for school. Can you give me braids again?”
“Does your dad know you’re here?” Somehow, I think probably not.
Penny’s smile grows. “He won’t care. He trusts you.”
“As nice as that is—”
“He does!” Penny bounces on her feet, eager. “He told Nana. I heard them talking yesterday about the chairs you’re making, and Dad said he trusts you.”
“He probably meant—you know what? Never mind. That was nice of him.” Even if his trust only extends to my ability to cut and staple some fabric. “You can’t be here without his permission. That’s a crazy road to cross alone, Penny.”
She glances over her shoulder, where mist is coming down from the distant hills and the early morning light shows that there isn’t a car for miles—not that we can tell, at least. It’s quiet outside, the faint chirping of distant birds proving how dead the road is right now.
But that’s not the point.
I never saved Carson’s number in my phone, so I find the text he sent me the other day when we drove to the fabric store and hit the icon to dial.
Just when I think it’s going to go to voicemail, he answers, his voice deep and groggy with sleep. “It’s a little early.”
“I had the same thought when I woke up to someone knocking on my door.”
“Huh?” He must sense something though, because he sounds more awake. “What happened?”
“Penny’s here. She wants her hair braided for school, and I wanted to get your permission.” Code for: just a heads up, your child is at my house at the bum crack of dawn.
“What!” Carson nearly shouts. There’s movement on the other end of the line, like he’s jumping out of bed and rummaging. A door opens. “How did she—when?”
“She’s safe. She only wants her hair braided.”
“I’ll be over in ten seconds.”
I lower my voice, stepping into the kitchen. “It’s really okay.” I repeat the important part. “She’s safe, and the road is dead right now.”
He lets out a deep sigh, blowing static into the speaker. “Can I talk to her?”
“Of course.” Before I hand the phone off, though, I hesitate. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy to braid her hair.”
“Didn’t she wake you up?”
“I’m awake now.”
Carson’s low chuckle travels through the phone and slides down my spine. “Alright. Let me talk to her.”
I hand the phone over. Penny takes it, not even looking remotely sheepish. “Hi, Dad.”
There’s a hum of conversation as he talks to her.
“But if I asked, you would have—”
More words I can’t hear that I’m overly curious about. But it’s none of my business. I pour a glass of water from the tap and drink it while I wait.
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Yes…uh huh. I promise.” Penny hangs up and hands the phone back. “He says if you really mean it, I can stay, but he’ll be here soon to walk me back.”
“Let’s get to work then.”
Penny lifts her hairbrush and a handful of mini clear elastic hair ties, a wide smile splitting her face.
“You came prepared. Come on, we can sit in here.” I settle on the edge of the sofa, Penny seated on the floor in front of me. I section her hair and stick half of it in a clip to keep it out of the way. “Want to try something a little different today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like braids that crisscross on the back of your head into pigtails. Or we can do a braid crown that goes all the way around your head.”
“Like a princess?” she asks.
“Sure.”
“I want the crown.”
“Okay.” I change my sections and begin, starting at her ear and braiding across her forehead, around the edge of her hair, pulling even sections as I go. “How’s your new school going?”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute. “My teacher is nice.”
I can sense something under the surface, and I know I need to tread lightly. “And friends?”
“My best friends are Sarah and Kailey. They live in Tennessee.”
“Sometimes it takes a while to make friends in a new place.”
“I have a friend here,” Penny says.
“Oh, yeah? What’s their name?”
She twists her head slightly, her eyes finding me. “It’s you.”
My heart surges at the sweet way she delivered that. I give her little shoulder a squeeze. “I’m honored to be counted as one of your friends, Penny.”
“There’s a girl in my class at school who sat next to me at lunch, but we don’t play together.”
“Why not?”
“She’s always playing with someone else.”
“Sometimes you need to ask to be included. Get out on the playground and say, ‘Can I play with you?’ It’s not easy, but it works a lot of the time.”
Penny tries to shake her head, but I hold it in place. “That’s scary.”
“It’s very scary,” I agree. “I think you’re already really brave. You started a new school, came to a new town, and crossed the road all on your own today. Those are very brave things.”
“Starting a new school isn’t brave.” She giggles. “My dad made me do that.”
“Because he’s looking out for you, huh? He loves you so much he wants to make sure you’re educated and given a chance to make friends in your new town.
” I tilt her head gently to keep the braid going, and she holds it in place.
“Don’t mistake it, though, Penny. Just because we have to do something, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take bravery to get it done. You’re very brave.”
A fist knocks on the door, but neither of us can move quite yet. “It’s open,” I holler.
Carson lets himself inside. He’s wearing a Giants hoodie over charcoal sweats, and the dark circles beneath his eyes prove he hasn’t slept well. Deep gold hair sticks up in the back, and he has a red crease on his cheek from his pillow. Deliciously rumpled.
I’m sure I just look frumpy-rumpled. Frumpled.
“Good morning,” I say, putting my attention back on the hair. I finish up the braid and tie it off, then hide the end in the crown and pin it in place.
“Are we done?” Penny asks.
“Yep. Bathroom is through there if you want to look at it.” I point in the direction of my work-in-progress and try to smooth down my hair.
“You’re making me look bad,” Carson says, watching his daughter run across the room. “There’s no way I’ll ever be able to do something like that.”
I pick up the brush she brought and hand it to him. “You could if I taught you. It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.”
“We’ve had this conversation. Dexterity, remember?” He wiggles his fingers for emphasis around the brush.
I’m conscious that I’m standing here in my old, worn-thin sweats and zero makeup. If he hadn’t totally friend-zoned me already, I’d be putting myself there as we speak. This is not how you present yourself to someone you want to date.
Or maybe it means we’re extra close now.
“I also remember the conversation about you being more capable than you like to make yourself sound.”
Carson rolls his eyes playfully. Then they track down my old, ratty PJs, and I want to curl into a ball and roll away.
“Why don’t you have a toilet?” Penny asks, coming out of the bathroom.
“I do. It’s not hooked up right now. I needed to move it so I could put in the new flooring.”
“You don’t have a toilet?” Carson asks. “Why didn’t you say how urgent your project is?”
I blink. Does the man really think I would wait on something so vital? “I have a bathroom upstairs, too.”
“Oh, nice.” He nods, glancing at the stairs, his gaze snagging there. “Well, we’d better go, Nickel.”
“Thank you, Ms. Emma.”
“Anytime,” I tell her.
Carson shoots me a look.
“Fine, not anytime. You need your dad’s permission first.”
“Yeah, we’ll be having a talk about this.” He gives me a self-effacing smile and lifts a hand. “See you later.”
Penny gives me a big, toothy grin, and I wrinkle my nose, smiling big back at her. When I close the door behind them, my house feels extra quiet.
I worked all morning, then left at lunch to spend the rest of the day on the chairs. It was slow in the library. Dale came in for the afternoon shift and Sophie, our volunteer, was in, so I took advantage of her presence and left.
On my way home, I pull into the driveway of the house I grew up in and take a deep breath. It’s hard to look at the front door to so many memories without thinking of the loss it represents as well.
When I walk inside, I’m not met with my mom’s perfume or the yapping of our old family beagle anymore. There’s nothing baking and the feeling never quite dissipates that I forgot something but don’t know what I forgot. The house is quiet, except for the noises my dad makes while he’s thinking.
I knock in warning before walking inside. “Hey Dad,” I call out.
“In here, Emma.” His voice sounds muffled.