18. Emma
Emma
My affirmations today were oddly on point. Even now, hours after Carson’s surprise visit with the flowers, I can’t help but run them through my head.
I am worthy before I am useful.
Did the makers of Affirmly do a deep dive to learn I’m the oldest daughter trying to keep my family together while providing us adequate space to grieve in a healthy way? I sit across from my dad now, the twins flanking us, and dig into the hot chicken pot pie steaming on my plate.
I am worthy before I am useful.
Well, what if I only feel necessary around here because of my ability to follow Mom’s recipes and my bossiness when coordinating family activities?
I don’t necessarily feel like my worth is tied to my ability to bring everyone together, but I don’t know if we’d see each other as often if I didn’t do it.
Maybe I might believe the affirmation a little easier if it was proven true.
“This is amazing, Em,” Rosie says, spearing a carrot. “The crust is perfect.”
“Thanks.”
My brother and dad echo her before we all fall silent again.
It’s not a somber meal, exactly, but something about seeing Mom’s grave together has made us all retreat inward.
I wish she was still here to make dinner herself, that we’d caught the strokes in time and saved her somehow, that my future kids won’t have to grow up never knowing her.
But it’s been ten years, so I’m supposed to be past all this now, right?
I take a big gulp of water. “How are the Fall Festival plans going, Rosie?”
She spears a piece of chicken and eats it, chewing. “It’s gonna be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“I’m sure it’ll be better than fine,” Dad says proudly, but Rosie only looks nervous.
Dominic leans back in his seat. “You know we’re here if you need more help.”
She waves his comment away. “You’re already helping enough.”
“Are you coming to the potluck?” Dad asks.
We all confirm.
“Will your new guy be there?” Rosie asks me.
Both men swivel toward me. “There’s no new guy,” I say quickly. “I’m kind of seeing Seth. We work together at the library.”
Dominic wrinkles his nose. “I thought he was a tool.”
“He’s changing,” Rosie says with air quotes.
“We’ll see.” I’m noncommittal, ignoring the way she sarcastically came to his defense and how it wasn’t a defense at all. “Just don’t want to end up alone, here.”
Dominic frowns. “That doesn’t mean you should settle.”
Are the men in my life having secret meetings behind my back? I can’t help picturing Carson’s earnest face when he said the same thing to me this morning.
“You kids are all about settling/not settling,” Dad says, putting his fork down.
“When have you considered that sometimes it’s an excuse for being too picky, eh?
Maybe you’re really not giving a man a good chance when he was nervous on the first date.
Maybe we need more time to see all the good in the other person. ”
Is this what’s going on with his new girlfriend? He decided being picky is for losers and he’s mining for the good in her?
“Those are all great points,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do with Seth anyway, Dom. I want to make sure I’ve given us a solid chance before writing him off.”
Rosie doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t say anything else.
“I know.” I put down my utensils and wipe my lips with a napkin. “Why don’t we go around the table and each share one memory about Mom?”
Dad lets out a funny sound, but since it sounds sad, we all ignore it.
“I’ll start,” I say. “Once when I was about ten, I had a bad day at school, so Mom let me stay home the next day. We went to the library to pick out books and ended up there at story time. Most of the kids were way younger than me because my friends were all at school, but the librarian made us feel welcome. It was a musical one, and we played instruments that went along with the book. I think that’s the moment I decided I wanted to be a librarian when I grew up. ”
“How did I not know about this?” Rosie asks.
“Mom made me promise not to say anything so you guys wouldn’t complain about having to go to school.”
Dom laughs, and Rosie makes a conceding expression.
“After the library, we took a stack of books to the bakery, got maple bars, and ate them while we walked along the water.”
“It sounds idyllic,” Rosie says.
“It was. I got home and read my entire stack of books. It felt like the best day of my life.”
“You know why she did that?” Dad asks, his face soft.
“Because you were going through some friend drama and she felt you needed to know how loved and important you are. She made the argument that missing one day was worth filling you with confidence, and all that one-on-one special attention would do just that.”
I’m so stunned, I don’t even have an immediate reaction.
Friend drama is a nice way to say that I was struggling to feel like I fit in anywhere.
I had no idea Mom even knew. When I came home crying the day before our library excursion, she didn’t press me for details, only made sure I wasn’t being bullied, that I was safe.
She must have called my teacher or something to get the details. Somehow, knowing her intentions with that day only makes it mean more. She was being my mom in the best way.
“I never played hooky like that, but Mom let me wear her favorite necklace for like a month straight once because I thought it was pretty.” Rosie gives a watery laugh.
“I loved how she would make so many cookies and farm us out to the neighbors with plates. It was such a simple way to show we’re thinking of them.
I didn’t see it as a kid, but now I can appreciate how thoughtful she was. ”
The double chocolate chunk cookies sit on the counter, watching us. My mom impacted me so deeply. It was second nature to send some home with Carson this morning. Did I double the batch subconsciously with the Prices in mind? Probably.
“She helped us see the value in ourselves,” Dom says quietly.
“Mom was good at that,” Dad agrees.
I pick up my fork to finish my dinner, thinking back on how hard it was to lose Mom fresh out of high school and how none of us had seen it coming, her included.
Yet she had made a huge impact on me. She taught me, by example, how to be a good neighbor, a supportive friend… that I should reach for the stars.
Without her taking me to story time and ditching class that day, would I be somewhere else?
If I was going to die young like she did, would I be satisfied with the life I’ve led? Mom had three kids, a happy marriage, a social life to be envious of. She had fulfillment. Where am I getting that same fulfillment?
Carson and Penny pop in my head, but I chase them right out again. I’m a busy person. I love my job. I have meaningful friendships and a family who loves me. I’m working on making my house a peaceful refuge…but there’s still something missing.
At the end of the day, I’m alone. I want companionship that isn’t HGTV or an audiobook. I want to talk to something that talks back. I want to fill the empty gaps in my heart with people. No—person, singular. With a man.
I respect Carson’s need for friendship, and I’m not trying to create an instant family, anyway. But when I picture myself happily spending my weekends with someone, he automatically slots into place, not Seth.
I need to do something about that.
The energy in the air has shifted Monday morning, like the weather can tell we’re putting on the town’s Fall Festival, so it’s conspiring to give us crisp, chill air and perfectly fiery trees all along Main Street.
Morning mist burns off the vibrant green hills in the distance as the sun comes out and makes the orange, red, and yellow trees brighter.
The store fronts along the road are decked out for autumn, pumpkins and hay bales and corn stalks decorating the spaces.
With leaves falling along the street and skittering in the wind, it’s like a movie set in its perfection—a cozy wonderland ready to fill us with cider and sticky buns and make us crave pumpkin-flavored everything.
I headed into the library first thing to make sure I have what I need for story time set aside and prepared.
We’re going to host it outside after the breakfast, so I brought an extra scarf and wore my warmest socks.
But in the heated library, all the layers are a bit much.
Unwinding my scarf, I toss it on the counter and sort through the books, putting them in proper order.
I’ll have a few activities to go along with some of them, so those things need to be bagged up and numbered for my own sanity.
Someone pushes through the doors into the processing room, and I glance back to find Seth wearing a thick sweater over tan pants. His brown eyes are tracking my motions. “Don’t stop there,” he jokes, glancing at the scarf I removed.
“Very funny.”
His grin widens. “You need help with any of the fair stuff today?”
We have very different roles here. He is more customer-facing in general fiction and managing the team, and I’m on the youth side.
Which means I handle way more outside events and things correlating to anyone under the age of eighteen, or the necessary fundraisers to fund their programs. It also means we work together a lot, but not really together.
“I think it’s all covered.” I gesture to the piles. “Organizing it now so I’m not scrambling in the middle of story time.”
He leans against the desk beside me and folds his arms over his chest. I have to remind myself he’s not standing too close. Not when I’m kind of dating him.
“You look great today, Emma.”
“Thanks.”
He steps closer, rubbing his hands along my arms. My body swirls with feelings, but I can’t tell if they’re good or hesitant. I don’t want to sabotage this if it can be something great, especially not if the only reason I’m not falling for Seth is because my brain is caught on a man I can’t have.
If I lose out on this thing with Seth and it’s actually a great thing, then who knows when I’ll have another chance at love? What if I turn him down, only to never find another guy?
I inhale, but his spicy cologne doesn’t raise my pulse at all.
He smiles warmly, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
Oh, no. Not yet. I’m not ready. I need more time—
I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a quick hug, then bounce away, grabbing up story time bags like I’m shopping forty percent off at the Scholastic sale.
“I’ll see you later?”
“You’re heading out now? We haven’t even opened.” He sounds frazzled, like he doesn’t know what just happened.
Honestly, I really don’t either.
“Meeting my dad at the town breakfast. I’ll see you later.”
I hope I have everything as I let myself out and find my car behind the building. I shut my trunk as a car pulls into the spot next to me. I recognize the red Jeep immediately.
Sloan Avery hops out, closing the door behind her. She runs a hand through her blonde waves, pushing them out of her face as she goes to her trunk to retrieve something. An idea hits me, so I make my way toward her.
“Good morning, Sloan,” I say, hiking my canvas bags higher on my shoulder.
She glances up. “Morning. You must have a busy week ahead of you.”
“The usual stuff. Is the salon going to be pretty slow?”
“My books are light this week. There’s enough school events to make up for it, though. I won’t know the difference.”
She doubles as the high school cheer coach, so I imagine her week will be busier no matter what with all the homecoming events.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, glancing at my shoulder-length waves. My next trim is already scheduled, so she’s probably confused. “I’m not touching that color, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
My smile grows. Sloan has always had a way of making me love my red hair. “No, it’s kind of a weird request. My friend’s daughter wants her hair braided all the time, but my friend struggles with anything that’s not a three-strand braid. French, Dutch, that sort of thing.”
She arches a flawless eyebrow. “What can I do?”
My smile widens. “Actually, it’s more like what I can borrow…”