Chapter 34
It’s late when I finally reach home, and I feel completely wrung out.
I sit in the car for a moment and answer a few texts.
The first is from Henry. He called me as soon as I reached my hotel in Vancouver, but I was so distraught and embarrassed that I let it go to voicemail.
I texted him right after, letting him know I was okay and telling him not to worry, that I’d be in touch when I got home.
He texted right back. He was getting ready to present at the awards dinner but offered to help as soon as it was over.
I assured him I was okay, just disappointed.
I didn’t tell him about the car starter debacle or that I was stuck in Vancouver or that Jakob was coming to get me.
Now I pull my phone out and send Henry a text letting him know I got home okay. There are no texts from Jakob, although to be fair I’m not surprised. I text Dani too, promising to tell her everything tomorrow over lattes. I just don’t have the energy to go into it all today.
Mom has left a light on in the living room of our little bungalow.
When I open the door, it smells like Kraft Mac & Cheese, homey and familiar.
I drag myself inside and toe off my shoes in the entry, feeling weary and off-kilter.
Mr. Butters waddles out of Mom’s room to greet me.
The sight of his big warm eyes and goofy smile soothes me, and I scratch behind his ears and murmur a greeting to him.
Then quietly I tiptoe down the hall and into Gus’s room.
I need to see my son. He’s the center of my universe, and as soon as I spy his little face, eyes closed, glasses off, mouth slack in sleep, it rights me somehow.
I take a deep breath and slide into bed next to him, under his Milky Way galaxy comforter, cuddling him for a brief, greedy moment.
He stirs and I gaze down at him, overcome with love.
This is what matters. Gus, my family—this is what I have given my life for and would gladly give up anything for again.
I want to do so right by them. I’ve given them all I have.
Gus is sleeping on his back, one arm flung over his head in abandon.
The other hand is on his chest, with something clutched in his fist. It’s a screwdriver.
I recognize the orange handle. It belongs to Jakob.
Gus must have taken it from his toolbox at the shop.
I carefully pry Gus’s little fingers from around the tool and slip it into my pocket.
I’ll return it to Jakob next time I’m at the shop.
Then I press a kiss to Gus’s forehead, breathing in his toothpaste and pasta scent.
“Sleep tight, baby,” I whisper, even though I know if he were awake Gus would instantly and vehemently object to being called a baby. He doesn’t yet understand what all of us parents learn eventually—that no matter how big they grow, our children are always our babies.
When I tiptoe into the hall and close the door, Mom is waiting for me like a slender wraith in a floral flannel nightgown. I jump, startled. She gives me a sympathetic look and wordlessly puts her arms around me. I sag against her, feeling the prickle of tears against my eyelids.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
I nod against her shoulder. “I’m sorry too. There was nothing I could do,” I whimper a little plaintively. “I tried so hard, but everything melted.”
“I know, sweetie. You did the best you could,” she says comfortingly, rubbing my back like she did when I was little and was sick or had a nightmare. She smells like Ivory soap. I inhale her, choked up with my failure.
“This was our big chance to get enough money to pay for the plumbing upgrades,” I murmur against her shoulder.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do now.
” I am heartsick thinking about how much money we need for the plumbing repairs, the renovations to transform the shop into my vision, and the county upgrades. It feels impossible.
She keeps rubbing my back. “Oh, honey, something will work out. It always does. Dad and I were in more pickles financially than you ever knew about, and somehow we always managed to pull through. I don’t know how, but we’ll manage this time too.
” She pulls back and looks at me, holding me by the shoulders.
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”
I shake my head and say before I think, “Jakob brought me dinner.”
She frowns, a little V of confusion wrinkling her brow. “Jakob? What do you mean?”
I’d called Mom as soon as I paid the mechanic’s bill and headed home, and while I told her about my failure at the competition and the melting chocolates and that I was on my way home, I left out the part about Jakob driving up to help me.
Now I sigh, going into the kitchen and filling a glass with water.
I’m not hungry, but I am so very thirsty, dehydrated from the hours in the hot car.
I drain the glass and refill it. Mom follows me, Mr. Butters bringing up the rear.
“When I left the hotel after I bombed out at the competition, my car wouldn’t start,” I tell her, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“I called Jakob and he drove up and took care of getting it to a mechanic friend of his. They got it fixed quickly so I could drive home. And Jakob brought me a burger before he drove me to the mechanic.” I don’t look her in the eye during this recitation of events.
I try to make it sound like no big deal.
Mom searches my face in confusion. “Jakob drove up and helped you? But why didn’t you call Henry?” she asks. “Wasn’t he at the hotel where the competition was?”
It’s an excellent question, and one I don’t quite know how to answer. “Um…” I hold the glass to my flushed face. “He was hosting the awards dinner and was out with colleagues. I didn’t want to bother him.”
Mom studies me. I hazard a glance in her direction. She looks speculative. “Is Jakob the reason you were asking me questions about not wanting what you saw in your vision?” she asks shrewdly.
I just nod.
“Oh, Emmie,” she sighs. I look down at the linoleum floor, feeling exposed. There’s no hiding from her.
“Jakob is a good man and a good friend,” she says gently. “But what about Henry? Is he not what you want?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid maybe not,” I admit.
“Henry is wonderful, don’t get me wrong.
But I don’t know if he’s the one for me.
I’m not sure our lives mesh that well. If I were with him, I’d have to give up so much of what I want in a partner.
I think we might be better off as friends.
” I grimace. Saying the words out loud is surprisingly painful, though they ring true.
Mom sighs. “The heart wants what the heart wants,” she says, her tone unexpectedly philosophical.
She comes over to me and lays her hand over mine on the counter, her eyes soft and concerned.
“Don’t second-guess your heart, Emmie. Be honest with yourself.
Give yourself permission to love fully. You deserve that kind of love, not something you have to talk yourself into.
” She looks up and her gaze softens as though she’s seeing something not in this room.
“I saw your father in my vision, you know, and a year later I fell in love with him the instant I spotted him sitting there at the Green Light Diner. He ordered the Hungry Viking Signature Plate and ate every bite. Lord but that man could eat! I recognized him as soon as he glanced up at me. I knew, I just knew it was him. I scribbled my number on his check and he called the next day. After that, we were never apart. We saw each other every day, worked side by side, did everything together. And we had many, many good years together. That’s the kind of love I want for you, Emmie.
The kind Bert and I had. That’s the kind of love that makes all the troubles and hardship of life bearable. ”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat at the mention of Dad. I drain my second glass of water, trying to ease the tightness. “I want that too, Mom,” I tell her thickly.
“And you don’t think you can have that love with Henry?” she asks me, her gaze searching. Suddenly the kitchen feels too small, her attention too close.
“I just remembered I need to run by the shop and drop something off.” I feel for the screwdriver in my pocket. There is absolutely no need for me to return an orange-handled screwdriver at almost midnight, but suddenly I just need to get out and think. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay, sweetheart. Just remember, I love you, Emmie, and I want what’s best for you.”
“I know, Mom.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too.” And then I practically sprint out the door.