Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Just before noon on Sunday, Hunter followed Emmalyn through the sliding glass door onto the deck of the house in La Jolla. The view was stunning—unobstructed ocean views stretching to the horizon, waves crashing on the rocky shoreline below. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and flowers from the garden that wrapped around the property.
Linda had prepared an impressive lunch spread on the outdoor table: a platter of grilled vegetables and chicken, a colorful salad, and freshly baked bread.
"This looks amazing," he said.
"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Aunt Linda," Emmalyn added.
"It wasn't any trouble. I'm just glad we can all have lunch together." Her gaze moved to his. "And I'm glad you could come, too, Hunter."
"I hope I'm not intruding."
"After what you did for us, you will always be welcome," Linda replied. Turning to Emmalyn, she added, "Your mom will be out in a minute. She's just getting dressed."
"How's Mom doing?" Emmalyn asked.
"She's still tired, excessively so. I'm not entirely sure it's all physical. I think she's going through some mental upheaval, too. Hopefully, we'll have more definitive answers next week as the tests come back." She paused as the sliding door opened, and Emmalyn's mother, Sara, stepped onto the deck.
Sara had on a loose-fitting short-sleeve dress that flowed to the ground and hid most of her figure but couldn't disguise her very thin, almost skeletal-looking arms. She'd put some makeup on her face, which helped with her pallor, although it didn't entirely mask the dark shadows under her eyes. Hunter honestly didn't know if she looked that much better than the last time he'd seen her. He hoped she'd get some answers soon.
"Emmalyn," Sara said, her face brightening at the sight of her daughter. "It's so good to see you."
"You, too, Mom." Emmalyn moved forward to give her mom a hug. "How are you today?"
"I'm better." Her gaze moved to Hunter.
"It's nice to see you again," he said.
"You, too," she replied. "I'm not sure I ever really thanked you for what you did at the market."
"No thanks necessary."
"Well, I do appreciate it. I'm happy Emmy has a friend like you."
He smiled without responding because that damn word was starting to really bother him.
"Let's eat," Linda said, urging everyone to take a seat. As she passed the food around the table, she said, "How's school going, Em?"
"Really well. We had our book fair on Friday, and it was very successful. I have a great class of kids this year. They're so sweet and innocent. I love being part of their first experience at school."
"You were always good with the little ones," her mother murmured. "They missed you when you left."
Emmalyn's smile faded. "I missed them, too. But I tried not to think of them too much, because it made me feel even more sad than I already was."
"I also missed you terribly, Emmy."
"Just not enough to come after me."
"I couldn't. After Linda took you away, I was always watched. For the next couple of years, I was restricted to the farm. Eventually, they realized I wasn't going anywhere, and they started to loosen their grip on me."
He could see Emmalyn biting back words that were probably harsh and a little unforgiving. He wondered if it wouldn't be better if she just said them. But that wasn't the kind of person she was. She knew her mother was fragile, and she wasn't going to put her mental or physical health at risk. He'd thought Em was such a softie when they'd first met, but there was a core of steel that ran through her.
"How's Ocean Shores?" her aunt asked, changing the subject.
"It's great," Emmalyn said. "You should come and visit me sometime, Mom. You can see my apartment, meet my other friends."
"I would like to do that, but I don't know when, or how long I'll have to stay hidden. I'm sure they're looking for me," Sara said.
Emmalyn gave him a quick look, a question in her eyes. He shrugged, not sure what to advise her to do. It was her call.
She wiped her mouth and put down her napkin. Then she turned to her mother. "There is something I need to tell you. Jeremy came to my apartment. He wanted to know where you were."
Her mother stiffened, her eyes widening in fear while Linda's expression turned angry.
"I didn't tell him," Emmalyn added quickly.
"Did he hurt you?" her mother asked. "Please tell me he didn't hurt you."
It was the first time he'd heard Sara express any real concern for Emmalyn, and he could see that Em was as startled as he was.
"He tried to slap me, but I hit him with a vase and told him to get out. Then Hunter and my neighbor heard the commotion and came to my rescue."
"Not that she needed rescuing," he put in. "She'd already handled Jeremy."
"Nobody handles Jeremy," her mother said, shaking her head, worry in her eyes. "I should go back. If I don't, you'll be in danger, Emmy. He'll keep harassing you until you tell him where I am."
"Mom, stop," Emmalyn said, cutting off her mother's panicked ramble. "I'm okay, and Jeremy is in jail. The neighbor who helped me is a police officer. He ran Jeremy's name, and it turned out that Jeremy had a warrant out for his arrest. Ben took him into custody. Jeremy is being held without bail, and the entire group is now being investigated. It's possible that the commune was a front for a smuggling enterprise."
He watched Sara carefully as she processed what Emmalyn was saying. He was looking for shock or surprise, but what he saw was acknowledgment, regret. "You knew," he said.
Her gaze darted to him. "I didn't know, not for sure," she said hastily.
"But you suspected," he said.
"Over the years, I wondered," Sara admitted. "I saw crates of guns, but I knew that the men wanted to be prepared in case anyone tried to take our land away from us."
"That's just a story you told yourself," Emmalyn put in. "But you had to know more. You were there for so long, and you were with Elias and then Jeremy."
"They didn't share their business with me. That wasn't my role, and questions were met with punishment, so I stopped asking." Sara drew in a shaky breath, then said, "What will happen to the women and children if the men go to jail?"
"They'll be taken care of," Emmalyn said.
"By who?" her mother asked. "Many of them didn't have families; that's how they ended up at Haven."
"I don't know exactly, but I'll talk to my friend, Ben, about it. I'm sure they'll be offered services to help them start over," Emmalyn said. "And maybe some of them do have extended families who can give them support. The important thing is that they'll be free to make their own choices."
"This is so much to take in. All of this is happening because I left," Sara said in bemusement. "So many lives will be changed because I walked away, and Jeremy tried to find me. I'm a little surprised he did that; he has someone else now. I'm sure it was just out of pride. He couldn't stand that I would try to leave. He always liked to be in control."
"He also probably didn't want you to talk to law enforcement," Hunter interjected. "Even if you didn't ask questions, you could provide information."
"That's probably true," Sara admitted. "Not everyone there was bad. I worry about some of my friends. I hope they'll be all right."
"They'll be better than they were," Emmalyn said. She gave her mother a pointed look. "There won't be a Haven to go back to, Mom, in case you ever have second thoughts. That's not going to be possible. The police will shut it down. It's over."
"I knew once I left Haven, I could never go back," Sara said. "I do miss my friends. And that farm was my home for the last twenty plus years, so I have mixed feelings about it being gone, but I know that I'm sick, and I have been for a while. I even got up the courage to ask Jeremy to take me to a doctor one day, but he refused. He told me the herbs would heal me. They didn't. And he didn't care." Sara paused. "I was too weak to fight him. But Linda's strength and your support finally helped me leave. I've never been as strong as either of you."
He could see Emmalyn holding back. She probably didn't like her mother saying she missed her friends or that she knew there were bad things going on at Haven, but she didn't have the courage to do anything about it. Emmalyn could not understand her mother's cowardice, and he had a problem with it, too. But Sara had also been beaten down over the past two decades, and he had a feeling that her life had been very, very difficult.
Linda cleared her throat. "I'm glad Jeremy is in jail and the group will be no more. I hope the men in charge pay heavily for their crimes." She paused, looking at her niece. "But I am sorry you had to deal with Jeremy, Emmalyn."
"I'm fine," Emmalyn said. "And I just want to put all of this behind us."
"I'll drink to that," Linda said, raising her glass of champagne.
The rest of them followed suit, including Sara.
After that, the conversation turned to other topics. Linda talked about her interior design business and a celebrity she was working for. Emmalyn related some funny things her kindergartners had said, and he shared a few stories from his life in the sky.
When they finally left, it was a little before three. As they got into the car, Emmalyn let out a breath of relief. As he looked over at her, he could see the toll the visit had taken, even though she'd shown absolutely no sign of her stress level while at the house.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Exhausted. It's just a lot of emotions. I have to keep them inside because I can't put anything else on my mom."
"I get that. But at some point, you need to let them out. It's not good to keep all that turmoil inside."
"Says the man who has done nothing but keep his emotions inside for months," she said dryly.
"Fair point," he conceded. "But it wasn't good for me. I think you need to blow off some steam."
"How would I do that? Scream? Yell? Cry?"
"I was thinking along the lines of hitting something."
She raised a brow. "Something like what?"
"You'll see. I have an idea, and I think it will be fun."
"What's the idea?"
"I want to take you to an arcade."
"An arcade?" A small smile tugged at her lips. "Are you twelve?"
"Sometimes," he said with a laugh. "There's one in Oceanside with batting cages. That's where I go when I need to let out some stress. You can pretend the ball is Jeremy or anyone else you want to smack, as long as it's not me. What do you say, friend?"
"I would have to say that… I have no idea if I can actually hit a baseball."
"Let's find out."
The Ocean Fun Zone was a sprawling entertainment complex with everything from batting cages to mini-golf and a massive arcade. It was busy for a Sunday afternoon, filled with families and teenagers enjoying the weekend.
As they entered the batting cage, Emmalyn took the bat from Hunter's hand somewhat reluctantly. She had never hit a baseball in her life. Nor had she ever been in a batting cage, although she had watched a few boys take some swings when she was in high school. But she'd only feigned interest in the sport because she'd thought they were cute.
Ironically, she was doing the same thing now. Hunter had looked so excited at the idea of helping her blow off some steam by hitting a baseball that she couldn't say no.
"Did I tell you I'm not very athletic?" she asked as he showed her where to stand in the cage.
"You can do it. It's just about timing."
"And coordination. Both of which I lack."
"You're not usually this negative," he said as he handed her a helmet.
"Really? I have to wear this?"
"Gotta protect that pretty head of yours," he said with a grin. "But don't worry. I'm going to put the pitch on slow. You won't get hurt."
She wasn't worried about the ball hitting her; she was worried about her hitting the ball, but it was too late to back out. Hunter gave her a few more instructions and had her take some practice swings, which did little to boost her confidence. But as she looked at the eight-year-old in the cage next to hers, she thought maybe she was being too much of a downer. That kid was having the time of his life. Maybe she would have more fun than she thought.
"Okay, you're ready," Hunter said as he backed away. "I'm going to push start. Just keep your eye on the ball."
"Got it, coach."
His warm smile suddenly made all this worth it. He wanted so badly to help her cheer up, that she needed to give it her best shot.
The machine whirred to life, and a baseball came hurtling toward her at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. She swung wildly, missing it by a foot.
"That was...enthusiastic," Hunter said diplomatically. "Try again. Don't rush. Let the ball come to you."
The next ball came. She swung. Missed.
"Okay, hang on." Hunter stepped forward. "Let's fix your stance." He positioned himself behind her, his arms coming around to adjust her stance and grip. His chest pressed against her back, his breath warm on her neck.
And suddenly, she couldn't remember what they were doing. But she did remember why they shouldn't be doing this. "Friends, remember?" she murmured, though she made no effort to move away.
"This is purely instructional," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Bend your knees slightly. Turn your hips when you swing. Like this." His hands guided her through the motion, and she tried not to think about how good it felt to have his body aligned with hers.
"Got it," she said, feeling slightly breathless and needing him to move away before she dropped the bat, turned in his arms, and kissed him in a way that was not suitable for this family-friendly arcade. "I can take it from here."
Hunter stepped back, and she immediately missed his warmth. But she focused on the machine, getting ready for the next pitch. When it came, she told herself to wait, watch, and then swing. To her amazement, she actually made contact, and that success was more than a little satisfying. "I did it," she said, giving him a proud look.
"I told you that you could. Pay attention. The next one is coming."
Of course, she missed the next one because she was still too excited. But then she forced herself to concentrate as Hunter gave more words of encouragement.
"You've got it now," he said. "Pretend the next ball has Jeremy's face on it. And whoever else you don't like."
The image of Jeremy's smug face made her swing harder, and she hit the next ball even farther, as well as the one after that. While she missed as many as she hit, she had enough success to feel happy and breathless by the time their tokens ran out. Then she took off her helmet, dropped her bat, and gave Hunter a hug.
"Thank you," she said. "That was fun."
His hands lingered at her waist. "I'm glad you liked it." He paused. "I really want to kiss you right now."
"Friends," she reminded him.
"I'm beginning to hate that word," he grumbled, but he let go of her, and they left the cage so the next group could get in.
"What now?" she asked.
"Let's check out the arcade. We'll see what other games you can crush."
"I think crushing is a bit of an exaggeration," she said with a laugh. "And I want you to have fun, too. You didn't even take any swings."
"I had fun watching you figure it out," he said as they entered the building.
The arcade was loud and busy, kids darting between machines, clutching tickets and tokens. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in an arcade, probably when she was a teenager. They spent the next hour working their way through the games, competing at Skee-Ball, which she won, racing games, which he dominated, and a zombie shooter game that had them both laughing as they tried to save each other from the digital horde. It was easy, uncomplicated fun—exactly what they both needed.
By the time they left the arcade, laden with a small stuffed unicorn Hunter had won for Olivia at the claw machine, the heavy mood from earlier had completely lifted. "Let's watch the sunset," Hunter suggested as the arcade was just across the street from the beach where locals and tourists were gathered on a bluff, watching the sun dip lower on the horizon.
"Okay," she said, happy to extend their time together.
They sat on a low fence along the edge of the bluff, watching the sun paint the ocean in shades of gold and amber. As they enjoyed the view, a small plane moved overhead, and she saw Hunter's gaze move upward.
"When did you know you wanted to fly?" she asked curiously.
"I was thirteen. My dad's friend was a pilot, and he took us up in his private plane. I loved being able to actually feel the flight. He let me take the controls for a second, and I had so much power at my fingertips; it was exhilarating."
"I would think it would be terrifying to be in a small plane."
"No. It was fun. I loved looking down on the world. After that, I begged my parents for flying lessons. My dad finally agreed when I was fifteen, and I was in heaven. By then, my parents were fighting incessantly and constantly talking about divorce. The house was a war zone. But up in the sky, none of that existed."
"So, when you went into the service, you knew you wanted to be a pilot?"
"I did. I had already gotten my pilot's license when I was seventeen, so by the time I joined the Corps, I already had experience in that area, which made me a good candidate for flight school."
"Why helicopters and not planes?"
"Because helicopters don't just fly; they dance," he said with a sparkle in his eyes.
"What does that mean?"
"The helicopter demands all your attention. It's hands-on flying, and it can do so many things that a plane cannot—take off vertically, hover in midair, slide sideways, spin in place. And you can land on a rooftop, in a valley, on a ship. You can get in and out of a rough situation very quickly."
"You really love it, don't you?" she said, seeing the truth in his eyes.
"Flying has always been my escape from the world down here."
"It seems like the world up there might be stressful at times."
"It can be," he admitted. "But when I'm on a mission, I have a bigger purpose. I'm doing something important, something that matters. I'm protecting the world below. I can't imagine not doing that anymore."
"Do you really have doubts, Hunter? You seem like you're fully recovered."
He didn't answer right away, then said, "My physical condition is up to par, but there will be more challenging combat-ready fitness tests to pass next week. And the psych evaluation will be important."
"You don't seem nearly as psycho as you used to," she said lightly.
He gave her a wry smile. "Thanks. I don't believe I have any lingering trauma from what happened, not anymore. The first month or two, I was afraid to close my eyes. I had nightmares every night. I relived that crash a thousand times. I couldn't get Gary's face out of my head." He paused. "The last nightmare I had was right before Olivia arrived, and I haven't had one since. I think talking to her about Gary made me think about him in other moments, good moments, not the worst day of his life, but the better days—for both of us."
"That's good."
"It is, but I don't know if anything will come into my head when I get back behind the controls, when I'm in a position to relive my last mission. I guess I'll find out."
"Did Gary also love to fly?"
"So much. He grew up in Oklahoma. His grandfather was a crop duster. Gary was flying from the time he was ten."
"You two must have been quite the pair."
"We were night and day in looks and personality. I was more serious, more rigid, more of a rule follower. Gary was easygoing, fun, and sometimes he was okay with good while I constantly strived for perfection. Not that he was ever bad at his job. He took that seriously. But I always felt like I had to do more."
"You put a lot of stress on yourself, don't you, Hunter?"
"I think you do, too," he said with a smile. "I saw you biting back a lot of words when you were listening to your mother defend herself."
"It's better for me to keep the stress now than put it on her. What would be the point? You heard her, Hunter. She just leans into the idea that she's a weak person and that makes her lack of action okay. I'm so tired of hearing her whine about being a coward. At some point, I want to say, 'Snap out of it. If you don't want to be a coward, don't be one.' But I can't do that, because…she is weak and sad." She gave a helpless shrug. "She's never going to change. I just have to accept her for who she is. It's just not easy."
"I know. That narrative is probably the only one she could live with. You know what life was like at that place; I don't. But from what you've told me, the conditions were harsh, and the women and children worked hard. She probably regretted taking you there and then regretted not leaving with you, so she had to find a way to live with those actions. I don't think she's just weak; I think she was damaged. Maybe she felt abandoned by her parents, by your biological father. You've never mentioned who that is."
"I don't know who he is. My mom said she was a party girl and a couple of guys could have been my dad, but she didn't really know any of them, so she didn't say anything. That part I've made peace with. I can tell myself my dad never knew about me, so he didn't abandon me. He just didn't know I existed." She paused. "I guess we all tell ourselves a story that we can live with. And I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get into all this again."
"No problem. I'm happy to listen."
"The sun is about to go down," she said, waving her hand toward the kaleidoscope of colors on the horizon.
"Another day in the books," he murmured, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Glad I got to share it with my friend."
She met his smile. "It turned out to be a good day. The batting cage was a great call. I felt more relaxed after I hit some balls."
"What are friends for?"
"You're really playing around with that word, Hunter."
"I can't seem to get it out of my head. I can't seem to get you out of my head."
"I feel the same way about you."
"We should rewrite the rules, Em. They're not working."
He was right, but she couldn't stop clinging to her one last defense. "I know, but…I can't."
"Well, if you change your mind…"
"I'm going to try not to, Hunter," she said. "At least not tonight. We should go home, back to our separate apartments. I have things to do, and you have a big day tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he muttered with a little sigh. "I guess I'll find out then if I'm crazy or not."
"You're not," she said. "You really are a different person than you were after your accident."
"I hope the doctor agrees with you."