Stone didn’t want to feel the cut of all those eyes following proud Deirdre McDaniel down the school halls, didn’t want to imagine the acid of all those jibes she must have heard. He could see her, head held high, determined not to let anyone see they’d left her bleeding. No wonder she was terrified for her kid. And yet, nailing Emma in a barrel and not letting her out until she was thirty was hardly an option. Even if Deirdre thought it was for her own safety.
Stone steepled his fingers, looked at the boards under his feet. “So that’s the story. You got pregnant in high school.”
“Yeah, Stone. That’s the story. I got knocked up because I was stupid and careless and all those dreams I had of singing on stages across the country died. A slow death, I’ll admit, because I was so stubborn, but that just made it hurt even worse. Emma deserves more in her life. I won’t—won’t let her—”
Stone took a chance, slid next to Deirdre on the bench. “You know, I’m no parent, but—”
“People who don’t have any kids are always so eager to give advice.”
“I’m pretty sure this advice is on target. Don’t do this.…” Stone waved his hand to where the two kids had been kissing. “Don’t turn this into some big drama. There’s not a teenager in the world who hasn’t seen that play and pictured themselves desperately in love, their parents the evil villains keeping them apart. Don’t force Emma to play Juliet for real, Deirdre. She’ll be far too good at it if you do.”
Deirdre didn’t say anything. Damn, he wanted to hold her, but sensed if he was fool enough to touch her now, she’d make that cut on his lip seem like no big deal.
“If you just back off,” Stone said, “odds are the relationship will burn itself out.”
“After he gets what he wants from her, and maybe ruins her life.”
Stone wanted to make her tell him who’d ruined her life, put the pain and wariness in her eyes. Stone wanted to find the asshole’s address and rearrange the guy’s dental work.
Instead Stone watched as she pushed herself to her feet. She cast one long, heartbreaking look across the space that separated her from Cade McDaniel’s cabin, the place where her daughter had gone.
And Stone thought how easy it would have been for her to follow if she had never opened the hope chest, never found the letter.
“Goodbye, Stone,” she said. He watched, helpless as she vanished into March Winds, alone.
“G-GRANDPA?” EMMA RAN through the cabin door, calling his name, wanting his strong arms around her.
“In here!”
She followed the sound of Martin McDaniel’s voice, found him in the long hallway, half collapsed against the wall, his hair sweat soaked, his fingers white as he tried to haul himself upright again with his walker, fury and shame on his gray face.
Fear stabbed Emma, seeing him look suddenly so old.
She rushed to his side. “Let me help you. Where are you trying to go?”
“Up and down this goddamned hall until I get my strength back. When I do, I’m going to run over this fluffy contraption with my Jeep.” He slammed the heel of his hand against the walker’s metal bar. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to swing a sledgehammer.”
Emma’s need to confide in her grandfather faded in the light of the old man’s pain.
“Damn it, girl, I hate having you see me like this!”
“It’s okay, Grandpa. Maybe your hip’s broken, but the rest of you is stronger than anyone I know.”
“Not anymore, sweetheart. Your grandpa used to be strong as a bull, but now…hell, just look at me.”
Emma’s throat hurt. She took him by the arm. “You’re going to get better soon. You’ve got to teach the twins how to fight. A few death shots, remember? Like you showed me?”
The Captain grunted but let her help him regain his balance between the walker’s metal supports. He grabbed the rubber grips as if he were trying to strangle them.
“Could we go back to your room?” Emma asked. “You could sit in your big chair and we could talk, just like we used to.”
“Why the hell not. It’s obvious I’d end up flat on my face if I tried walking that hall anymore. But tomorrow—humph. This hip doesn’t know who it’s f—I mean, fooling with.”
“Nice save,” Emma said. “You almost had to put a dollar in Aunt Finn’s swearing box.”
Finn had instituted the box when the twins had started picking up colorful language. When it was full, Finn was going to tally up the twin who’d sworn the least and let them get a toy with the cash.
Emma wanted to make her grandfather smile. Anything to distract him from the pain twisting his beloved features.
She got the Captain to the room Aunt Finn had made for him, trying to recreate the living room back at Linden Lane as much as possible. The Captain eased himself into his big armchair, and Emma wished she was still small enough to curl up on his lap, and that he was still strong enough to let her. Eagle sharp eyes took in her face—and Emma knew she must be all blotchy from crying.
“Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” the Captain asked.
“I missed you. And Mom—Mom’s just being hateful.” Emma sniffed, hard. She’d never disgrace herself by crying in front of the Captain. McDaniels didn’t cry, he’d say. They fought back with everything they had.
The Captain’s mouth hardened, and Emma waited for him to let loose his own temper at the upheaval her mom had caused. That was the Captain’s way—blast pain right out of the water. But Martin McDaniel asked stiffly, “How is your mom?”
“She’s being impossible. Says she wants to—to find that man…” Emma faltered, not knowing what to say, not wanting to humiliate her grandfather or hurt him by calling “that man” by the name father. “And it’s making her crazy. She just—just blew up at me in front of Drew Lawson while this restoration guy was watching. I thought if she had a date once in a while she might let up on me.”
“Your mom’s seeing a man?”
“This guy named Jake Stone. He’s real hot, Grandpa, but now, well, I hope she never sees him again.…”
“Hold on there, soldier.” The Captain stopped her, his eyes sought hers, and Emma thought she’d never seen them so sad. “Emma, you’re not a little girl anymore. You’re almost a lady. A beautiful, intelligent lady with a heart as big as your smile.”
Emma caught the inside of her lip between her teeth, hating the inevitable, that the more of a lady she became, the more the Captain’s strength would fade. She curled up on the floor next to him, leaning her face carefully on his good leg. “I wish everything could just go back to the way it was before. When I was little and you were in your own house where you belong.”
The Captain smoothed his hand over her hair. “Looks like even I can’t stop time, sweetheart. Growing up means you have to hear hard things sometimes. And do what’s right, even if you want to kick the whole world in the teeth.”
“I’d feel a whole lot better right now if I could. Starting with that dumb kid who stole his sister’s purse. If you hadn’t thought it was a real mugging, Captain, you wouldn’t have chased after him. You wouldn’t have hurt yourself. You were trying to take care of that girl. I wish I could take care of you.”
“Maybe there is something you could do for your old grandpa. Something important.”
Emma looked up, saw the plea in the Captain’s eyes, almost a desperation. “I’d do anything for you, Captain. Cross my heart.” They’d sealed a hundred conspiracies just that way in years past, always partners in crime.
“All right, then.” Her grandfather seemed to brace himself. “Emma, Jake Stone isn’t restoring any house over there. He’s the man who broke up your aunt and uncle’s engagement six years ago by proving Aunt Finn’s father had stolen all that money he left her.”
“Wh-what?” Betrayal and disillusionment swirled through Emma. “Mom said—”
“I know what your mom said. Your uncle told me all about it. That she didn’t want you to know the truth. But
it’s plain and simple. Jake Stone is a private investigator.”
“He’s the one—She’s gone and done it? Actually hired someone to—” Emma pushed to her feet, a sob too hard to control. “She lied to me! She promised she’d always tell me the truth! She said I didn’t have to worry. She’d never lie again the way she did when she promised she’d still be at Uncle Cade’s when I woke up. When she left me—”
Panic washed through her, and she felt ten years old again, terrified, abandoned with an uncle she didn’t know, desperately wanting her mother.
“Emma, I told you this was hard. I wouldn’t have told you at all except that you’re the only one I can trust to help me.”
“H-help you with what? Oh, Grandpa…” She tried to scrub her tears away with her fist. “I…I’m sorry…. I’m crying.…”
“Don’t tell anyone else—I’ll deny it to the death—but sometimes your grandpa cries, too. Come here, little girl.” He held out his hand. Emma crossed to him, took it. His hand felt all work roughened and bruised. In spite of his broken hip he’d managed to ding himself up, and one of the twins’ SpongeBob bandages was on his thumb.
“First, Emma, you can’t let your mom know that I’ve blown her secret out of the water. She’ll tell you all about it in her own good time.”
“That’s not fair! Grandpa—”
“It’s what I need you to do. Swear you won’t tell your mom you know who Jake Stone is. It would only make things worse between your mom and me. I don’t think I could bear that.”
“It’s her fault things are all messed up! If she hadn’t gone poking around in that stupid hope chest…”
“I went through that chest myself years ago, wanting to make sure it was safe for your mom. It was like something inside of me knew it might hurt her…instinct, you know? The kind that kept me from stepping on land mines in Nam.” The Captain grimaced. “Whenever your mom and that cedar trunk got mixed together, there’s always been nothing but trouble. Since she was just a little girl, climbing around on it, breaking things.”
But this time she’s breaking your heart, Emma thought. “I wish she’d never opened it.”
“I do, too. But she did. There’s no changing that now. Just like there’s no changing the fact that I didn’t leaf through that damned play script when I had the chance. It just felt too…tender, Emma. That play was everything about your grandmother that I couldn’t understand. I felt like my Emmaline deserved her privacy. Silly, wasn’t it? With her so long dead.”
“No, Grandpa. It just shows how much you loved her.”
“Maybe I loved her long, but I didn’t love her well. And now—” he swallowed hard “—now your mom and you are paying the price. It’s too late to turn back, honey. We’re already on the beachhead, and the drop boat’s ten miles out to sea. And here I sit, stuck in this goddamned house, with my hip in pieces.”
Martin rubbed at his eyes. Emma’s cheeks burned, and she looked away, determined not to let him know she’d seen the moisture clinging to his lashes. “God, I hate having to depend on other people. It makes me want to smash something.”
Emma squeezed his other hand. “It’s not other people, Grandpa. It’s just me.”
“So it is, my Emma. So it is.” He kissed her fingertips, hard, the scruff on his cheeks scratching just a little. Emma leaned against him, drawing in the faint scent of tobacco and Pepsi and engine oil. He smelled like love.
“Emma,” he said gravely. “Honey, this is what I need you to do. Kind of a covert mission, you know? Don’t let on that you’ve got this Jake Stone’s number. But keep your eyes and ears open. You’re a smart girl. You’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”
“You mean, like, spy on Mom?”
“Somebody’s got to keep me informed of the situation. You’re my only hope. God knows, the girl will never talk to me about what’s going on.”
“Grandpa, I…”
“You have to help me, Emma. Promise to tell me the instant your mother finds her—” he winced, then plunged on “—this blood father of hers.”
“But…but Grandpa…”
“I mean it, Emma,” he said grimly. “I don’t care what your mother or your uncle or aunt say. They think they have to protect me. Protect me. Hell, I was on the front lines in Vietnam before they could even suck on their thumbs. I’m not going to sit here like a toad and let this jerk hurt my little girl.”
His fierce eyes pinned Emma. “Promise me, Emma. I need you.”
“I promise,” Emma said softly.
He crushed her hand as if he’d never let it go.
CHAPTER 10
WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO HER BABY, the Emma she’d known and loved and laughed with for sixteen years? Deirdre wondered, heartsick as she watched her sullen daughter stir a bowl of melting ice cream.
For a week since the disaster in the gazebo, Deirdre had done her best to mend fences. They both should have cooled off enough to talk reasonably by now, but Emma just got surlier and more silent by the day until the weekly family night the two had shared since Deirdre returned to Whitewater was a torture worthy of the Spanish Inquisition.
And there wasn’t any chance to call in reinforcements. Cade’s cabin sat dark and empty, her brother, Finn, the twins and Martin McDaniel having traveled to Montana for two weeks at Jett Davis’s ranch. Cade’s best friend and Hollywood A-list actor hoped the trip would take some of the pressure off Cade and lift Martin McDaniel’s spirits. But Deirdre figured it was Finn who needed a break. She looked more worn-out every day and so distressed over the breach in the family Deirdre felt almost relieved she was gone.
Except that Deirdre was desperate to talk about Emma. Then Deirdre realized how alone she really was. Oh, she had a few friends—acquaintances, really. But she had always held her deepest emotions close to the chest. She wasn’t about to let those women poke around in vulnerabilities Deirdre tried her best to pretend weren’t there. She didn’t trust easily. She never had. And since God had brought her brother’s warm, openhearted wife to Deirdre’s doorstep, she figured her closeness with Finn was enough.
They’d shared everything these past six years—their joys, their heartaches, the business they’d built together at March Winds. Finn had even insisted Deirdre be in the birthing room when the twins had been delivered. Deirdre had sworn nothing would ever separate her from the people she loved most in the world again. It wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong. But after the precious years of belonging so completely, this isolation hurt worse than anything she could imagine.
She figured she must be losing her mind because three times in the past week she’d picked up the phone and almost dialed Jake Stone. Just to see how the case was going, she’d tell herself. What she really wanted was to hear his voice, let him make her laugh or else just pick a fight with him. Stone wouldn’t give her the silent treatment or just level her with Finn’s weapon of choice, the big, sad eyes.
Jake could probably even crack through Emma’s wall of silence with his irreverent sense of humor. Deirdre stole another glance at her daughter. Emma had to be madder than Deirdre had ever seen her. Nothing short of a nuclear meltdown could make her chatterbox daughter so silent, so grave.
“Emma, I’m sorry you’re upset with me,” Deirdre said, her own ice cream tasting like dust. “I’ve said it a hundred times. Can’t we at least talk about this?”
“Why bother? You’ll just lie.”
Guilt soured Deirdre’s stomach. She’d meant to straighten things out with Emma, tell her the truth about Jake Stone and his business at March Winds. But things around the house were bad enough without drop-kicking that nest of hornets.
“How will I lie? Tell me.” Deirdre hedged, not wanting to get caught outright if somehow the truth had slipped out. Finn and Cade had sworn secrecy. The Captain didn’t know. When Deirdre had pushed Cade about it he’d taken her head off, saying their dad was in rough enough shape, physically and emotionally after the bomb Deirdre had dropped on him. Hell i
f Cade would be the one to pile more misery on the old man.
She could hear her brother’s voice reasoning in her head, clear from Montana. Maybe Deirdre should stop and think…why didn’t she want Emma or the Captain to know about the private investigator? Was Deirdre’s conscience bothering her? Maybe she should just call the whole thing off.
But was it such a terrible thing to want to know where she’d come from? To long for a father who understood who she was? Or, more accurate, who she’d wanted to be with her music?
Yet Emma was paying a price. This whole Romeo and Juliet gig she was playing with Drew Lawson was turning dangerous, too. Emma wouldn’t even tell Deirdre what she was so angry about. And the anguish and rage in Emma’s eyes cut Deirdre to the core.
“Emma, please. How did I lie to you?” Deirdre prodded.
Emma jabbed at the ice cream with her spoon. Oh, God, it was so hard tiptoeing around her daughter when for so long a hug, a joke, a heart-to-heart talk in Deirdre’s big bed had been able to solve all the problems in Emma’s world.
Not all the problems, a voice whispered inside her. How many months had it taken to heal Emma when Deirdre had finally come home six years ago? Had Emma really healed at all?
Deirdre had spent countless hours watching her daughter, looking for any cracks in their relationship, terrified that someday the dam would break and all Emma’s anger and betrayal and bitterness would pour out, all her roiling emotions toward the mother who had abandoned her. Was that what was happening now? Payment for the nine months she’d left her little girl behind?
“May I leave now?” Emma demanded. “I spent two hours here. It’s stupid to sit here and not talk.”
Deirdre forced back irritation. Emma had played her “twenty questions from hell” game a few times in the past, making Deirdre dig for whatever was bothering her. As if to make Deirdre prove she really cared. But the game had never felt so serious, so dangerous or for such terrible odds.