Chapter 32 – Emerson #2
“You have a lady present,” Grant mimics her.
“Yes, well, I’m sure Emmy’s heard those terms before, haven’t you, dear?” She pats my hand and smiles wider.
“So, Emerson,” Chief Malone says. “Grant tells me you are buying Blue Skies out at Miner’s Airfield.”
“I’m trying to,” I say. “After traveling for so long, it’s finally time to put some roots down.
It’s been an adjustment staying in one place for this long, but it’s a good change.
Blue Skies has been neglected for a while now so I’m enjoying breathing life back into it.
Now I just can’t wait to make it mine. Fingers and toes crossed I get loan approval. ”
“You always were up for a challenge,” Betsy says as she puts another piece of chocolate cake on my plate without my having to ask. “Eat up. You always loved dessert . . . but jumping out of airplanes? Really?”
There’s something about the way she references how I used to be with such nonchalance that makes it ring in my ears.
When Grant mentioned the same thing at Desi’s, it made me uneasy.
He was revealing a small part of my past to people unfamiliar with it.
But this, Betsy bringing it up in the one place that was my safe haven, feels different to me.
It’s almost comforting to know I existed to someone when I was a child and that they remember me.
Moving on a whim and living like a nomad, often doesn’t afford you that feeling.
“Emerson subscribes to the living-safely-is-dangerous theory,” Grant interjects as he bumps his knee against mine beneath the table.
“Well, if you’re with that asshole”—Grady gestures to Grant—“then you definitely like to live dangerously. He isn’t known to be one who sticks around longer than the quick—”
“Grady Malone,” Betsy warns in that tone that brings a smile to my lips. “You know better than to talk that way when someone brings a guest over. Your father and I did not raise unmannerly heathens.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he says with no sincerity before looking at me. “See? Nothing has changed. We still bicker constantly like we did when we were kids. We’re just older and the insults are more brutal.”
That’s the first time our collective past has been put out there in the open, causing an uncomfortable silence. Luckily, I’ve had enough wine that the mention doesn’t trip me up like it might have if I were completely sober.
“Is it sad that I remember that? The names you used to call each other and how when your mom called you by your full name, it meant you really were in trouble,” I say to try to ease the unspoken tension.
“Being an only child, I never had to deal with that. The flip side was I couldn’t blame something on someone else either so my mom always knew if I was at fault. ”
“How is your mom doing, Emerson?” the chief asks, and Grant tenses beside me.
“She passed away a few years back.”
“Oh, Emmy,” the chief says. “I had no idea. If my eldest would have had proper manners and let me know that, then we would have known not to ask. I’m so very sorry.”
“It’s okay. She was sick for a long time, and now her suffering is over.”
“What made you decide to move back here to Sunnyville?” he continues.
“Blue Skies.”
And possibly your son.
The thought has me lifting my fork and digging into the second piece of cake to clear the startling thought from my mind.
But it’s true. I always knew that if I moved back I’d run into Grant Malone eventually.
Hadn’t I wanted to?
Hadn’t I always looked in every crowd, just in case I saw his face?
“Well, whatever reason it may be, we’re glad to see you again,” Betsy says, breaking the sudden lull in conversation and patting my hand. “It’s like having my daughter back.”
Those simple words are like resin being poured onto the cracks of my heart. A protective shield to ward off whatever lies ahead for it.
There’s a crackling of a police scanner, and I smile at how all of them fall silent while codes are relayed over the radio. Their bodies still, heads all angle in the same mannerism that reflects they are related. Each so similar, yet so different.
“You’re being rude, gentlemen,” Betsy says and meets my eyes. “It’s a full-time job keeping the Malone men in line and away from work when they’re off duty.”
“Shame on us for saving lives,” Grady replies and has us all laughing.
“Always the class clown,” Betsy mutters in jest as she stands up with her plate in her hand.
“Can I help you clean up, Mom?” Grant asks as he scoots his chair back. “Emerson and I need to be getting back.”
“I thought you were off tomorrow,” Grayson says.
“I am, but I sprung this on Emerson without asking, so I’m sure she has other, more pressing things she needs to do.”
Every part of me wants to reject what he’s saying. It doesn’t matter how much I didn’t want to come here, because now I don’t want to leave.
There’s a feeling here I’ve missed for so very long.
A feeling I craved in my childhood that this house—that this family—provided to me.
Security.
That isn’t an easy thing for normal people to find in this world, let alone people with a past like mine. It’s often fleeting and habitually false.
It’s here and now that I’ve found it, I find that I’m scared to lose it.