Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Emelia
Sunday morning, I sit on the bed with my laptop open, my mom’s name blinking in the search bar again.
Every time I try to push through the idea of finding out more about my biological mother, it pushes back twice as hard. Yes, I’d love to know if my maternal line has any of the conditions Dr. Fenmore mentioned, but it’s deeper than that.
Maybe I should just give in. If I do, maybe it won’t loom so large in my mind.
All I know about my birth mom is where she’s from and her name.
My dad told me that when I was three, a lawyer showed up to tell him he was a father and that my mother had left her family behind after high school.
I’m assuming her keeping her family out of her life means it wasn’t a good situation.
Do I really want to wade into those waters?
But I’ve always wondered, and what can really happen with a name search? I probably won’t even find anything.
My finger hits the Enter button on the search before I talk myself out of it again.
Nothing comes up, which isn’t surprising. My mother died twenty-nine years ago, so why would there be any trace of her online?
I try another avenue and go to Facebook to see if I can find any community groups from her hometown. Maybe that’s a better place to start. I request to join a few, but I’ll have to wait until I’m approved before I can search in them for any mention of her name.
I close my laptop and sigh, picturing my mom and dad’s faces if they knew what I just did. That same familiar guilt rests in my stomach that I’m going behind their backs.
“I need to do something.” I toss my laptop aside and get up off the bed.
Sitting around here all day isn’t going to get me out of my head, so I change into a pair of leggings, a white crop top, and throw on a light-blue denim button-up.
It’s a nice September day, but it’s definitely no longer summer up here.
A nice walk around the lake with fresh air will help clear my head about all this. It always worked back home.
As I step out onto the small porch, Elliott’s truck pulls into the driveway beside the house.
Great.
He climbs out of the truck, and I head in that direction to reach the road. The moment Baylor’s feet touch the ground, she runs in my direction.
“Baylor,” Elliott says with a note of warning. He still doesn’t want his daughter near me. I guess that conversation on the dock was useless.
She stops and puts her finger up, continuing to run toward me.
But she doesn’t seem to see me. Then I get a better look at her. She looks upset, as though she’s running away from him. But when she notices me, I freeze in place.
She hurries over to me. Her cheeks are pink when she stops in front of me. It’s her frown, her tears welling in her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” I look across the yard to the side of the house where Elliott stands, frowning, arms crossed.
“My friends were in town.”
“Well, that must have been nice.”
She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling. I can tell that she’s trying hard not to cry, and I want to scoop her up in my arms and help her feel better, but it’s not my place.
Instead, I crouch down so I’m at eye level with her. “What happened?”
Her gaze meets mine. Her eyes are a shade bluer with unshed tears in them. “They were all at the park together, playing.”
Oh. My shoulders sink. It’s all clear now.
“And you weren’t invited?”
Baylor nods, and a tear slips down her cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you think they don’t like me?”
On instinct, I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know you very well yet, Baylor, but from what I can tell, there’s nothing they wouldn’t like. You’re nice and funny, and I bet you’re a good friend to them, right?”
She nods emphatically.
“Maybe it was a misunderstanding. You could ask them when you see them at school tomorrow.”
She twists her lips. “Maybe.”
“Or you could invite them to go to the park. Then they’d see how much fun they’re missing not having you there.”
She nods, but I see she’s too lost in the moment to think about future playdates. “I guess I could do that…”
All I want to do is cheer her up. When I was her age, my mom used to paint my nails all the time, and I loved it. Elliott might hate it, but if it will cheer this little girl up, I don’t care what he thinks.
“Baylor, have you ever painted your nails before?”
A little sparkle returns to her eyes. “No.”
“I brought some nail polish with me. Do you think your dad might let me paint your nails?” I look over her shoulder and see Elliott is making his way across the yard toward us.
Her big blue eyes widen. “Really? What colors do you have?” She bounces on her toes, her tears drying up.
“I have a pink, a maroon, and a really pretty fuchsia.”
“Pink is my favorite color!” She spins around as if she knew her dad would be there. “Daddy, can Emelia paint my nails?”
Elliott gives me a chin nod as his way of saying hello, so I do one right back. “I’m sure Emelia has things to do, kiddo.” He rests his big hand on her shoulder.
I straighten up. “Not really. I was just going to go for a walk because I was bored.” Not entirely true, but it’s not as if I’m going to tell him the real reason I want to get out of my head.
He looks between Baylor and me and has to notice her mood is shifting, and if I can paint her nails, she might forget about the exclusion altogether. “Well, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. We’ll have a girls’ afternoon. It’ll be fun.”
Baylor claps her hands and jumps in place. “Can you do my hair again too?”
I chuckle. “Sure thing.”
“I’m gonna go get my hairbrush!” She rushes toward the house.
Elliott watches her for a beat before his attention returns to me. “I appreciate this. Nothing I said in the car seemed to help make her feel better. I’m assuming she filled you in?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets.
I nod. “Yeah. Little girls can be vipers sometimes. I remember it well.”
He pushes a hand through his hair, and his face strains with a look of uncertainty. I feel for him. It’s hard to see someone you love hurt. “I didn’t realize kindergarten was going to be so stressful.”
“I’m not sure who’s more stressed, you or her.”
He lets out a small laugh. Oh, the man does have another emotion. “Maybe I just got used to how things were. They were easier to navigate when it was just the two of us.”
This is the perfect opportunity to ask about Baylor’s mom, but I don’t take it. The two of us have finally called a somewhat truce, even if it’s only temporary, and I get the distinct impression that bringing up Baylor’s mom will sour the mood.
“Well, you’re doing something right, Elliott. Baylor is a wonderful little girl.”
He gives me a small smile, appearing a little embarrassed by my words. He scrubs his palm against the stubble on his jaw.
Baylor rushes out of the sliding glass door, hairbrush and some hair elastics in hand.
She’s beaming, the exact opposite of her mood a few minutes ago. Something warm spreads through my chest.
When I look back at Elliott and see the way he’s looking at me, the sensation deepens.
I thought I had him all figured out, but maybe he’s not an asshole. Maybe he’s just a man who values the things he loves and will do whatever it takes to protect them—the town of Echo Lake included.