Chapter 81
It was all Tessa could do not to run toward her. She’d recognize Emily anywhere, she knew that tilt of her head, the way she talked with her hands, that dancer’s posture.
At the same time, it was all she could do not to pivot, race back into the bookstore’s office, slam the door, and hide.
Emily.
Emily. The only one who knew her secret.
Emily. Who was either her long-lost dearest friend, or a devious manipulative blackmailer.
Emily, who had come to this bookstore, knowing it was a pivotal moment in Tessa’s career.
And had arrived either to celebrate it—or ruin it.
Or maybe, commiserate.
Maybe Emily was being blackmailed, too. Maybe, after all these years, they were once again together, and, once again, in unimaginable trouble.
Tessa put her hands over her eyes, despairing, then quickly pulled them away, fearing she’d smudge her makeup.
She had to wait for Vivian to tell her what Emily said.
All the while knowing it wasn’t necessarily true.
All the while knowing she could not trust a word of it.
If she made the wrong decision, her life would fall apart.
Her career. Her family. If she made the wrong decision, all would be lost.
She walked, backward, slowly, into the office. Eased the door almost closed. Waiting for Emily’s next move.
She heard footsteps in the hall. Just one person.
Vivian opened the door. Tessa whirled, trying to keep the panic out of her expression.
“She says her name is Emily Rousseau.” Vivian closed the door behind her. “And that you will know her by the name she discarded—that’s how she put it—Emily Owen. Do you know her?”
Tessa nodded. She sat at the table again, the three-paned makeup mirror reflecting her uncertainty.
“She says she’s thrilled for you, and happy to wait until your event is over, and doesn’t want to make you nervous. She was pretty cute about it, I have to say. Seemed like a big fan. And says to tell you—in her words—‘both of our dreams have come true.’”
“Discarded? Her name?”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. Tessa, I think you should wait until this is over. I’ll tell her that. I’ll take the blame.”
No. She had to know. She had to know. It’d be impossible to do this interview knowing a potential time bomb was ticking. If Emily was about to tell her something terrible, to threaten her, it would be better to know it than to fear it.
There was no way to avoid this.
“I’ll come out,” Tessa said. “I’ll come out and say hello.”
“You have seven minutes, I’d say.” Vivian shook her head. “Seriously. This is a distraction. You should get ready for the interview, Tessa. Focus.”
You’re good, Annabelle said.
“I’m good,” Tessa said. “I’ll be quick, then come back here.”
Vivian moved aside as Tessa opened the door to the office.
Then, step by step, gradually erasing twenty years of distance, Tessa came closer to the woman now outlined by a burst of sunshine from beyond the bookstore window.
Emily in silhouette, twenty years later, was the same Emily she’d seen in the light of that Maine summer.
Even the way she held her chin was familiar.
They’d shared so much back then, the wonder and the disaster.
The discoveries and the dreams and the beauty and the poetry.
And the pain. Which of those was about to appear now?
They finally stood a foot apart, the glow from the TV spotlights surrounding them. Tessa saw people gathering on the sidewalk, lining up to be allowed inside.
“This is the forest primeval,” Emily said.
“The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,” Tessa whispered.
They stood in their own silence for a moment, sharing the space between them while the bustle of the bookstore, the lights, the camera, the crew, all dissolved into background noise.
“You remembered,” Emily said.
“Of course I did. Why didn’t you answer my letters?” Tessa could not cry, for fear of ruining her careful mascara, but her pounding heart could not be denied.
“Letters? I never got letters.” Emily shook her head, frowning.
“And I never expected any. I got you in so much trouble about the car, Tessa, I am so sorry.” She looked up, her face the picture of remorse.
“It was all my fault. I thought you would hate me forever. My father, and his wife, told me you did, that you were incredibly mad, said you never wanted to hear from me again. And I understood, I still do. You already had so much upheaval in your life, and we were kids, after all. And maybe you’d even forgotten.
But I couldn’t resist coming today—this is all you ever wanted, and now you have it.
I’m so proud of you. You don’t hate me?”
“Hate you? Forgotten? I wrote you letters. For weeks. Months! I thought you hated me . Because of what happened. And your parents hated me, too.”
“They did, yes, I’ll admit that. But I should have stood up for you. I should have told your mother it was my fault. Instead I left home. As soon as I could.”
“I did, too, and—” Tessa began. She pressed her lips together, then worried about her lipstick.
The producer, Rebecca, was now sitting in what would be Tessa’s chair, and the techs were adjusting the lighting.
People peered through the store’s front windows, gesturing and pointing at Tessa, holding up their books, waiting to get inside for the live broadcast. Vivian waved both hands to get Tessa’s attention, then pointed to her watch, looking worried.
“I searched for you on Facebook, in fact.” Tessa had to hurry. “Because—”
“Facebook.” Emily scoffed. “Social media. Waste of time. I’m on this bookstore’s mailing list. That’s how I found out about this today. We live in Boston, right nearby. I’m an English teacher. I make the kids read the entire ‘Evangeline.’ And I think of you every time.”
“Emily, I—” She thought of their shared dreams and how they’d turned out. But there was no time. “I have to go,” Tessa said. “You’ll wait for me?”
“Of course, superstar. I knew you would do it.”
“Em.” Tessa reached out, touched Emily’s arm, briefly, timidly. “That night.”
“I know. That poor deer.” Emily made a regretful face. Rueful. Remembering. “I had nightmares about that deer for years. My father made me look at it. He was—such an awful man.”
Tessa’s chin came up. She narrowed her eyes. “You saw it.”
“Yeah. Be glad you didn’t. My father got rid of it, it was just roadkill. Later that same night. My stepmother made him do it. He’s dead now. My father.”
“It was a deer.”
“Well, yeah. What did you think?”
“Tessa!” Rebecca now, calling for her. “Time!”
“Don’t leave, Em,” Tessa said.
“I’ll be here,” she said. “See you after.”