Chapter Nineteen
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yeah, thanks." Emmett gave Harper a rueful smile. "Sorry you had to set me up with all the pillows and everything again."
"Don't apologize. I did it for me as much as for you. If we couldn't get you comfortable, we'd have had to go inside, and it's such a beautiful evening."
"It is." He stared out at the mountains, watching the sun's final descent before it disappeared behind them. They’d sat out on the deck to eat dinner, but Harper had picked up on how uncomfortable he was sitting at the table and had suggested they move over here and proceeded to set him up on the sofa as soon as they’d finished.
"I know they talk about Montana as big sky country, and they're right, of course. But until I came out here, I only thought of big blue skies. It didn't occur to me that every sunrise and sunset would be so vast. I know that might sound stupid to you, since you've lived here all your life."
"It doesn't sound stupid at all. It sounds like you actually see the place."
"I don't just see it. I love it. And the night sky, too. There are so many stars."
"There are as many stars in the sky over New York, you know; it's just that you can't see them."
"I know, I know. But this isn't about criticizing my hometown. It's about complimenting yours, okay?"
He held up his hand. "I wasn't criticizing. Only contrasting how different they are."
"You can say that again."
"But you like it here."
"I love it. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." She gave him a puzzled smile.
"All right, I'm not doing a very good job of being subtle about it, so I'll just come out and ask. Do you plan to stay in Montana?" His stomach felt heavy as he waited for her to answer, but he needed to know.
The weight got heavier when she didn't reply immediately. "I'm not pressuring you," he said eventually. "But Tanya said your old boss called—and he wants you to go back."
Harper wrinkled her nose. "What Marcus wants and what I want are rarely ever the same thing. I have no intention of working for him again."
Emmett waited, but she didn't add that she saw Montana as home now. He couldn't blame her; she hadn't been here all that long. It made him cautious, though.
She got up from her spot on the wicker chair opposite where he was sitting on the sofa. "Libby included pastries from the bakery for dessert. I have my eye on a blondie. Do you know what you want, or should I bring them out so you can choose?"
"If there's any cheesecake, I'll take a slice. Thanks."
He wasn't surprised when she returned and handed him a plate with a huge slice of cheesecake.
"I take it Libby knows that you like that stuff," she said with a smile.
"She does. They all do. Cheesecake's always been my thing."
"Well, then I'm glad that I know now, too. And I have to tell you that I envy you that."
"What?" He hadn't thought there was anything enviable about his life in years. Well, except for the girls.
"The way you can so casually say they all know. That you have a group of friends who've known you all your life, and who know you so well that even your favorite dessert is common knowledge."
He smiled. "Oh, that. You're right. I'm lucky—we're all lucky to have each other. Although, I'm sure the others would agree with me when I say sometimes it's a pain in the ass having so many people around who know every detail of your likes, dislikes, and history."
Instead of laughing with him, Harper nodded thoughtfully, and he could guess what she was thinking. They hadn't talked much about Emily, not directly. He wasn't convinced Harper would want to know. But then again, all he could do was share a little and see how things went.
"If you're wondering about Emily..."
"I was, but I shouldn't. I didn't mean to intrude."
"It's not an intrusion. It's not that I don't want you to know about her. It's just that I don't want to be the guy who's always talking about his dead wife." He met her gaze and held it. "Especially not to the first woman who's caught his eye since Emily died."
His pulse was thudding when he finished, and it occurred to him that he rarely spoke about Emily to people who hadn't known her. With his friends and the girls — pretty much the entire community here in the valley — it was easy; they had their own memories of her.
Harper set her blondie down on her plate and tilted her head to the side.
"I'd love to know more about her. Anything that you want to share.
I know she must have been an amazing lady.
" She smiled. "And no, I'm not blowing smoke.
You chose her. She mothered the girls, and everyone around here speaks highly of her.
I'm… sorry, Emmett." She let out a short laugh.
"I don't want to say I'm sorry that you lost her, because that makes it sound like she's some possession that you misplaced somehow. "
A chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "Thank you. I always hate that saying myself. It's such a strange one. I can't bring myself to say it. I lost my wife sounds too much like I lost my keys—and maybe if…" He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"Don't be. I've thought the same thing myself about my parents. I lost them—okay, so where did you last see them? And maybe if you retrace your steps…" She shrugged. "But I took us off on a tangent. I'd like to hear about her. If you want to share."
He lifted his shoulder. "I do. It's not that I don't. But… now I feel like I'm on the spot and I don't know where to start."
She smiled. "Then don't. Let's talk about other stuff. But I'm glad we got this far. Now you know that you're safe to talk. And I know that I'm okay to ask."
~ ~ ~
Harper took a sip of her wine and stared up at the big sky, dotted with fluffy clouds that were fast fading from pink to gray.
She'd said they could talk about other stuff, but she felt the same way as Emmett — as though she were on the spot to come up with something, and she didn't know what.
She could chatter about a hundred things, she always could, but having mentioned Emily, it didn't seem right to move right on to something inconsequential.
She set her glass down and turned to him. "Want to hear the real story about why I'm so afraid of guns?"
His spoon hovered halfway to his mouth. "You were mugged at gunpoint; you told us that."
"True, but that only made things worse, it wasn’t where it started."
"If you want to tell me, I want to hear it."
"Want isn't the word I'd use, but I said I'd share some.
" She stared down at her hands, which had linked themselves together, her fingers tapping against each other.
She took in one big, deep breath, then spoke hurriedly, as she always did when she had to say the words.
"My parents were shot and killed when I was nine. "
"Damn, Harper."
She shrugged and smiled. "I know, it's kind of horrific when you face the truth of it. But I suppose over the years, the truth has become more distant." She let out a short laugh. "And it has been a lot of years now."
"Maybe so. But..." He shook his head. "What happened to you? Did you have family? Who took you in?"
"No such luck, I'm afraid. What you see sitting before you is a product of the foster care system."
He shook his head. "I can't say I know much about the system. But from the little that I do know, which is mostly from Nat and Hunter's situation, I'm not impressed. Please tell me you had a better experience than they did."
She reached for her glass again, mostly to give her hand something to do. "I'll tell you that if you want to hear it."
"Shit."
She gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, that about describes it."
"And you didn't get out of foster care? You were never adopted or anything?"
"No. I was lucky that I didn't spend much time in group homes.
Not until I was sixteen, anyway. I spent the last two years in a center for girls in the city—I mean, New York City.
But the rest of the time, I kept moving from one family to another.
The longest I ever spent anywhere was eighteen months.
" She gave an involuntary shudder before sitting up a little straighter. "Yeah, it wasn't fun."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, it is what it is, and it's all behind me now."
Emmett nodded slowly. "That's why you envy me, right?" He looked down at the last of his cheesecake. "I must sound like an ungrateful bastard."
"No, not at all. Don't do that. I meant what I said. I envy you your group of friends, your history, the big family you're a part of. I mean, I know — or at least I think I do — that none of you, other than the MacFarlands, are related. But there's no denying that you guys are all family."
"And I'd never deny it," Emmett agreed, "not even to soften things for you. The guys are my brothers." He glanced at the cheesecake again. "Libby's like a sister. I know how lucky I am."
"You don't need to apologize for it. For someone like me, it's good to know the kind of relationships you have exist in the world." She smiled. "That the girls have so many uncles, who I have no doubt would lay down their lives for them."
"They would."
"The girls lost their mom. But they still had you. And they had a whole big family. They still have them. But anyway — I didn't mean to dwell on that. I said I'd share some with you. So, there you go. I've shared. Any questions?"
"I have. I have so many questions, but I'll start with — what did you mean by the last two years? That you were in a girls' home for the last two years."
"I aged out at eighteen. That's the way it works."
He frowned. "And what happens then?"
"Not much. At the age of eighteen, you're considered an independent adult."
Emmett closed his eyes. "So, you were just three years older than Alana is now when you were left to fend for yourself in the world?"