Emma
Seth sits across from Demi and me at the Beet & Barrel Café on Main Street, the plans for Witches’ Night Out laid in front of us. I pick up my caramel apple cider and sip, the cinnamon and apple swirling with decadent caramel and tasting like fall.
“Did you finish the book for tomorrow?” Demi asks. “Or should I start writing the discussion questions?”
“I found a set online, so we can use those. I finished it a few weeks ago.”
“During your party,” Seth says around a bite of his sandwich.
We’re having lunch while we finalize the details of one of the library’s biggest events of the year.
Heather from the Friends of the Autumn Ridge Library is supposed to be here too, but she told me her little girl had a tooth emergency and she needed to see the new dentist in town.
“I was reading that night, but in my defense, I was on sober driver duty.”
“No one blames you,” Demi says around a mouthful. “Literally everyone there that night was a librarian.”
“Except Mina,” Seth says.
I share a look with Demi. She shifts to face Seth again, putting down her sandwich and resting her chin on her fist. “How are things going with my sister, by the way? I’ve heard from her, of course, but I’m curious if it’s mutual.”
The blood seems to drain from Seth’s face. His typical olive tan is pale, his dark eyes darting to me. “Uh, well.”
“We’re friends,” I remind him. He doesn’t need to hear that I already know about him texting Mina.
“Which was your choice,” he says.
“Anyway,” Demi prods. “My sister? I kind of need to know you aren’t going to drop her the moment some hot chick walks into the library.”
“Have you seen Maggie?” Seth asks. “A hot chick walks into the library every day.”
Both of us give him a flat look.
“I mean, lots of hot chicks.” He gestures to us somewhat manically. “Beautiful women everywhere in that building.”
And he wonders why I never took us seriously.
Demi rolls her eyes. “Moving on.”
“Yes. I’m really into your sister, but we’ve only been texting. I don’t know her well yet. I was hoping things would work out with someone else, but she’s into a different someone else, so that failed.”
I have a hard time feeling guilty when he was literally also talking to two people at the same time. It’s the definition of dating: going on dates with people until one sticks.
We just didn’t work out. Again.
“Don’t string her along, Seth,” Demi says. She’s small and feisty, and I would never go against her. Seth evidently feels the same way.
“You have my word. Sheesh, Demi. What’s with the interrogation?”
“I’m an older sister. It’s literally my job to make sure my boss isn’t taking advantage.”
“That’s a weird sentence,” I say, then take another sip of my cider.
“Can we promise no more secrets, at least?” Demi asks, looking at Seth. Her words drive straight into my chest, though. She doesn’t know about Carson, but she knows something’s up.
When her gaze slides to me, I know I was included in that broad request.
“Secrets never lead anywhere good,” she continues. “They fester and make the bearer feel worse over time. It’s so much healthier to rely on other people.”
I can’t look at her. If I do, my entire week-long relationship with Carson might come spilling out, and that’s not going to happen in front of Seth. “Let’s finish planning Witches’ Night Out so we can go home.”
“Agreed.” Demi takes a big bite of her sandwich. “I, for one, think we should make it a dance party with karaoke this year.”
“Me and karaoke don’t mix.” I hide my face by taking another drink from my mug.
Demi shoots me a look. “Oh, I think you and karaoke are more of a good luck charm.”
I’m driving home after our early dinner—late lunch?—meeting. Everything feels squared away, and I’m only six percent more into Carson today than I was yesterday. That rate of growth is slow enough not to be too concerning.
We won’t discuss the percentage of time I thought about him while shelving books and prepping book club questions for tomorrow night.
I can no longer claim that the last time I put myself out there for a guy was a total disaster, because I put my heart on the line for Carson and it ended in one of the best kisses of my life.
So what if he needs more time to decide he can trust me?
I can’t judge his choices when I’m not a parent.
I know what I think I would do if I was in his shoes, but who knows what the stress and pressure of the situation would drive me to do?
My phone rings, pausing my music to show Carson’s name. I hit the button to accept it in my car. “Hi,” I say.
He’s breathless, like he’s been running. “Do you have Penny?”
My blood runs cold. “No. I’m driving home from work.”
“Do you think it’s possible she found a way into your house?”
It’s Monday. We had talked about making cookies today, but moved it because she’d be with a friend. “I thought she was supposed to go to the straw maze after school?”
“She was, but now she’s missing. Katie called me because she can’t find Penny anywhere.
Pen’s phone isn’t even ringing. It’s saying the phone is no longer in service.
Statistically, missing children are often found at or near their home or familiar places.
So before I panic, I wanted to check your house. ”
“You can go check it. I’m down the road, but you can get in with the spare.
” I tell him where to find the key hidden beneath one of my ceramic planters, then hang up so he can focus on the task.
My heart rate jumped when he explained the situation and hasn’t decreased since.
She’s a smart kid, very observant, and hopefully just lost in the corn maze.
I pull into my house and find my front door wide open. Carson steps outside with a terrified look on his face. He closes the door, and I race to meet up with him. “She’s not here?”
“Nope. I need to drive to the maze. It’s the most logical place, but I had to check.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He doesn’t argue. I lock my car with the key fob as we cross the street and slide into his Lexus. As soon as Carson pulls onto the road, he reaches for my hand, our fingers threading together. I’d like to tell him it will all be okay, but empty platitudes never make anyone feel better.
We ride in silence, his hand seeking comfort from mine. “The maze is so close to main street. She could be anywhere.”
Carson has to slow the car for a couple leaf-peepers with cameras, and his hand tightens around mine. It can’t help his mental state that the town is crawling with strangers right now.
“She’s been so weird since Jen called,” he mutters.
If he’s thinking Jen took her, I have a hard time reconciling that. “Did you call Penny’s mom?”
“Yeah. Straight to voicemail.”
I want to distract him. “I heard about one of your dental emergencies today.”
“We didn’t have one.” He shoots me a furrowed-brow look of confusion.
“You didn’t see Heather and her child? She told me she was missing our meeting to see you.”
“I had more patients today, but no kids.”
“Of course not. I should have known.”
“What?”
This is so not important right now, but at least he’s not anxiously squeezing my hand to death. That means it’s doing the job. “Heather tends to bail on our Friends of the Library meetings at the last minute, and she usually blames her kids. I should have known.”
“That’s why you do so much? The Friends aren’t reliable?”
“Not even a little bit.” I feel bad about being blunt, so I hurry to back step. “The board has busy lives, though.”
“Like fake dental emergencies? Get a new board, Emma. You deserve people who will actually help.”
Easier said than done. Someone has to want to volunteer.
Carson parks, and we jog over to the start of the maze where Katie is standing with Molly and another girl, Stephanie. Yes, I am on a first-name basis with every under-twelve in this town who likes to read.
Most of the over-twelves, too.
“We checked the pumpkin patch and the Walkers sent Luke to search the house, too.”
Carson scrubs a hand over his face.
Tom, the Walker patriarch, strides toward us. His hair is white and cleanly cut, with a matching beard that’s well-trimmed. He’s wearing boots and a coat, his steps sure and confident. “Luke just called. Penny isn’t in the house. He’s sending out the drone to look at the area from above.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Carson rubs his eyes, then looks around like he’s the one who’s lost.
Tom claps him on the back, squeezing. “We’ll find her.”
Carson’s nod isn’t convincing.
The hum of a drone flies overhead, and we all turn to watch it make its way around the hay maze. Ann, Tom’s wife, jogs over and puts her arm around Carson. “She’s probably hiding. Kids love to scare their parents, Carson.”
He nods. “Hey Katie, do the girls remember when they got separated from Penny?”
Molly retreats, stepping behind her mom’s legs and dragging Stephanie with her.
“You’re not in trouble, girls,” Katie tells them. “The more information we have, the faster we can find her.”
Carson waits. On the outside, he looks patient, but I can sense his turmoil.
“They had a little disagreement about what to do after the corn pit—you know, the one where they swim through dried kernels?”
Carson nods.
“Penny supposedly went to the maze by herself, and the other two went to the bouncy balloon thing.” Katie’s cheeks warm. “I was watching them—”
“It’s fine.” Carson brushes her off, his gaze pinned on the drone flying overhead.
“A few of us walked through the maze,” Tom says. “But we couldn’t see her.”
“We called her name,” Ann adds.
Tom’s phone rings, so he pulls it out. “Find her, Luke?”
“I think so,” Luke says through the speakerphone. “There’s a purple jacket in a dead-end. Go through the entrance, skip the first two turns, then take a right, left, skip a turn, then two lefts.”
Carson doesn’t wait. He runs through the entrance, and I take off behind him. After the first right and then left, he starts to go left again.
“Stop! Skip this one, remember?”
He shakes his head but listens to me. After we’ve followed all Luke’s directions, Carson crashes to a stop. Penny is sitting on the ground, back to the corn, knees pulled up to her chest. She’s crying.
“Pen,” Carson says, falling to his knees and pulling her against his chest. “I was so worried.”
“Why?” She sniffles.
“We couldn’t find you. I thought you were lost.”
I look over my shoulder. Ann followed us in, so I give her a thumbs up. Her shoulders drop in relief. “I’ll let everyone know.”
Penny and Carson stand and he pulls her against him, hugging her tightly. “That was one of the worst moments of my life.”
Penny startles. “I wasn’t lost, Dad. I just didn’t want anyone to see me cry.”
She pulls herself free and I want a hug too, to feel her safe and here, but I keep a healthy boundary there and let her decide.
“What happened with the girls?” Carson asks.
Penny frowns. “They didn’t want to play with me anymore. I don’t know all the things they know.”
Carson looks thunderous.
“Girls can be clique-y sometimes,” I say.
Penny drifts toward me. “They wanted to know why I don’t have a phone anymore.”
“I’d like to know that too,” Carson says. “When I called, the line said it was disconnected.”
“Mom canceled it.” She frowns, looking at the corn, and I see a wobble in her chin that tears my heart into a million pieces. “She broke up with Stephen, so he said he won’t pay for my phone anymore.”
Carson closes his eyes, breathing through his nose.
“I’m sorry, Penny. That must have been awful to hear.”
She nods, stepping closer, then hesitating. I put my arms out and she starts to fully cry, stepping into my hug. I wrap her up tightly, closing my eyes and breathing.
“Sometimes adults make decisions we aren’t happy about, and as a kid, you can’t do anything about it. I’m sorry if you felt helpless and frustrated.” I open my eyes and find Carson watching us, a furrow in his brow. I panic, immediately worried I said the wrong thing.
He must read my face, because he cracks a sad smile.
Penny cries harder, so I squeeze her tighter. Carson brings his arms around us and envelops us both so tightly, I feel like my entire world just grew a little brighter.
A humming sounds overhead, and we all look up to find the drone zooming in.
Carson laughs, stepping back and saluting to Luke, who’s probably watching.
“Can we go home now?” Penny asks.
“Sure thing, Nickel.”
She looks at me. “Will you come, too?”
I melt under her pleading, watery eyes. “Of course. If your dad’s okay with it.”
He gives me a look like Come on, of course I want you there.
“We could make those cookies tonight!” Penny says.
“Sure, we can,” I agree, trying to act super cool about the fact that Penny took my hand. I shoot Carson a wide-mouthed fish-like excited face over my shoulder, and he laughs.
Is this contentment? It sure feels like it.