CHAPTER 61
Emma
I choke on my bread and guzzle my coffee in an attempt to clear my throat.
Phyllis wants to talk. I know what she wants to talk about. I’m not an idiot. Finn and I have been bonking nonstop, and Summer knows all about it. There’s no way Summer’s managed to keep her mouth shut about it.
That kind of gossip is too good to keep to herself.
Even if the word is out, I can’t discuss it. That would be a betrayal of Finn. I think it’s up to him to decide when, how, or even if he’ll spill the beans to his family.
“Talk?” I ask and grab another slice of bread. “Did you see Jasmine’s art project?”
“She showed it to me when I took her to school this morning. Don’t change the subject.”
I slather jam on my bread. “Finn’s filly is doing great. She—”
“Emma.” Phyllis reaches across the table and covers my hand in both of hers. “I want to talk about you. We really haven’t had a moment to talk about you.”
“Me?” Me is singular, so that’s good. Maybe I’m wrong, and she doesn’t know a thing about Finn and me.
“About your childhood.”
“Again? You already know the important parts—foster kid who dropped out of school.”
Phyllis slides her hands away. She takes a sip of her coffee and eyes me over the rim of her cup. “I know it may seem like I’m being nosy, but I love talking to people and hearing their stories.” She leans forward and lowers her voice. “It’s always the same people here. No new faces. Until you.”
“And Victoria.”
“But she’s off on her honeymoon with Cal. So you’re it.”
“Maybe you should wait for Victoria to come back. She has to be a lot more interesting than me.”
Phyllis pours herself another cup of coffee.
“In my experience it’s the ‘not interesting’ folks with the most interesting lives.
Look at me—I’m dull as dishwater. I spend my days doing the same thing, day after day.
I cook, clean, argue with Jamie, watch over Jasmine, and do my damndest to make sure the boys and Summer don’t kill themselves doing something stupid.
I love all of them. But did you know that I wasn’t a MacLaine for long? ”
“What does that mean?”
“Murray—that was Jamie’s brother—was my second husband. I’m a widow twice over. I didn’t marry Murray until later.”
“I never knew,” I say. “You seem such a part of the family.”
“I am! I was so lucky to marry Murray. Not only was he a wonderful man, but he came with a dream family.”
I have a million questions for her, but I don’t dare ask the first one, which has to do with becoming a member of the MacLaine family.
I don’t want to let on that in my secret heart of hearts, that’s where my mind has been going.
That I’ll live with Finn and Jasmine forever as a member of the family, not the housekeeper.
“See?” Phyllis says. “I’m boring, but there’s an interesting backstory there.”
“I never thought you were boring.”
She points at me. “And you’re not boring either. You are beautiful and caring and bright and you’ve changed Finn and Jasmine’s lives for the better.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but I really am boring.
I clean and cook. I never went to college or most of high school.
I’ve never been married or had a serious relationship.
I spend Christmases alone. Ditto all the other holidays.
I’ve never traveled anywhere much outside Nevada.
I’m not even a fan of spicy food. So I have to disagree with you on that. Bo-ring!”
She reaches for my hand again. “Were you always a foster child? Can you remember a time when you were with your parents?”
Her question takes me off guard. I get that she wants to know more about me, but I didn’t realize she wants to start at the very beginning. The beginning I know nothing about.
“I think I was a baby when I was…” I don’t know the correct word. Abandoned? Thrown away? Lost?
Since I could remember, I’ve accepted my fate: Orphan. Alone. Survivor. The whys and hows don’t even matter.
“I never found out what happened,” I tell Phyllis.
“No records?”
I shake my head. “Sealed.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure. I tried.”
I don’t want to get into the rest. How I dropped out of school at sixteen, had to deal with the juvenile court system, and how I went to legal aid to fight for my right to become an emancipated minor.
I was living in a cheap apartment with three other girls at the time, working two waitressing jobs, but I was already supporting myself.
During that process, the state was forced to hand over a lot documents, but none gave me any information about my birth parents or how I wound up in the system.
But I did get free.
I shrug. “I guess I’m a mystery.”
“And you’ve taken care of yourself all this time. Did you have a nice foster family?”
Gee, that’s a loaded question. “I had at least nine foster families, but those are only the ones that I remember.”
“Nine!”
“My first clear memory is the family I lived with when I was six.” I cut another slice of bread and hope she didn’t see me shudder.
That foster mother liked to slap me when she wasn’t happy with me.
Luckily, she slapped me too hard once, and when the social worker came over and saw my bruise, I was moved. “They weren’t all bad.”
“But some were?” Phyllis’s question is soft, as if she’s trying to be gentle with me but still get the info she wants.
I have no desire to dredge up the bad, let alone the worst.
“Not everyone is perfect,” I say. “I don’t like to dwell on it.”
She nods. “So that’s why you ran away and dropped out—because of your foster family at the time.”
I stare at the tabletop, knowing I don’t dare look at her. I won’t let her see me like this.
“Phyllis, I’m sorry, but I can’t… I don’t…” I start, stumbling over the words as I shake my head. Oh, no. My throat is closing up and hot tears sting my eyes. I blink quickly, trying to stop them before they escape.
This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
“Oh my poor, dear, sweet girl.” Phyllis comes to my side of the table and wraps her arms around me. “I’m too damned pushy for my own good or anyone else’s good. Please forgive me, honey. I never meant to upset you.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
I’m the one who needs to apologize—to myself. Because I swore when I got here that the good people of Yosemite Ranch would not see me as pathetic. Damaged goods. Capable of bloodshed.
I just blew it.
Phyllis will surely tell everyone about poor, broken Emma Clark, who got abandoned as a baby and has lived a very hard life. She won’t do it out of cruelty, but out of kindness, because she’s a sweet woman who wants to help me.
But it won’t matter.
There’s no fixing the past.
Not my past.
“I’m suddenly very tired. Thank you so much for the treat.” I hug her back and stand from the table.
I didn’t lie. I am so tired I can’t see straight. But I do what needs to be done for the day, make sure everyone eats a healthy and delicious dinner and that the kitchen is spotless afterward.
And then I make an excuse so that I can fall into bed before it’s even dark. I lock the door.
If I’m going to open the backpack, I need to do it alone.