Something New

by Jenny Rabe

  “No promises, but I’ll do my best.” Emilie’s voice was wary.

  After taking a sip from his drink, Finn joined them. “We’re going on a whale watch next weekend and we want you two to come along.”

  “As long as you can make sure Dean stays on his best behavior.” Ava pushed his shoulder playfully.

  Dean wanted to slug her back and not too softly either.

  Emilie gave him a thoughtful look and turned back to Ava. “Dean’s always on his best behavior. If you want me there, he is my plus one.”

  Finn cleared his throat and slipped an arm around Ava’s waist. “We’d love both of you there. Ava, we should get going now.”

  Ava looked at her watch. “Oh, you’re right. We’re taste testing the cake.” Ava pulled something out of her purse and handed it to Emilie. “Here’s the card for the wedding dress shop. Bring Mom and meet me there Thursday at one o’clock. Maybe we can find a dress for you, too.”

  “Wh— Wait! I’ll be bus—” Emilie’s answer fell on deaf ears as Ava and Finn walked out of the diner.

  There were a hundred things he wanted to say to Emilie, but before he could start, she pushed past him and returned to her seat.

  The bell on the diner clanged, indicating their exit. It took Emilie three seconds for her mood to flip. “I’m ready to leave. You might’ve thought you were helping, but you weren’t.”

  He frowned at her insensitive words. Couldn’t she see how toxic Ava was? Why didn’t Emilie understand? “Let me at least drive you home.”

  Her attention was outside, where Finn was helping Ava into the car outside the diner. As they drove off, she spoke through gritted teeth. “I was trying to find closure, not defend myself with every answer. She apologized, and though I know it was only half-hearted, it was a start. I can’t get closure if you’re constantly rescuing me.”

  She stood and made a beeline for the front door then remembered to pay. “Oh, sorry,” she said to the employee waiting at the register.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, catching up to her. While he took out his wallet, she headed for the door. He gave enough cash to the register to cover the meal and tip and hurried outside.

  By the time he caught up to Emilie, she was already heading home, her stride quick and long. Gray clouds moved quickly, darkening the sky. He ran after her and grabbed the back of her arms. “All right, all right. It’s about to rain. Let me drive you.”

  Emilie pulled away and turned to him with a sigh. “Dean, you’re my one safe spot and the person I care the most about. I don’t want to say something I don’t mean, so I’m walking home. I got suckered into helping Ava, and it’s too late to back out. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at the situation.”

  “Emilie, wait. Let’s talk about—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Dean, you’re smothering me. I need some space.”

  Dean took a step back. “You want space?” This whole time he’d been trying to protect her, and she believed he was suffocating her. Anger coiled in Dean’s stomach and sprang like a shark attack. “Fine. Have your space.”

  He spun on his heel, marched to his truck, and hopped in. Time and time again she got wounded. She was walking into a trap. He jammed his key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he took off like a madman.

  13

  Emilie

  Emilie only regretted her decision when Dean’s truck roared by and he didn’t so much as glance her way. When his truck disappeared in the distance, a sinking feeling told Emilie she’d said the wrong thing. Instead of holding her ground with Ava, she had taken it out on Dean.

  It was too late to take back her words, and right then, she was not capable of fixing anything. Maybe when things settled down, she could explain the guilt and palpable relief that came when she told Ava the truth about her mom. Not to mention the mounting anxiety she felt for being an active part of the wedding. How in the world was she going to get Miss Gail to tag along at the dress fitting? They hadn’t talked in years.

  Pushing thoughts of upsetting Dean away, she hurried down the road and headed home. Every step, she grew more determined. Agreeing to help Ava was a mistake, but she’d already committed and wanted to start their attempt at a friendship on the right foot.

  When she turned down her street, her jeep came into view and it reminded her of all she’d have to do before turning in for the night. Stomping even harder down the street, she dared anyone to stop her for a chat. She could bring in the rest of her things just fine.

  When she opened the car door to clean everything out, the floor was completely empty. Not a speck of trash remained. Dean had struck again. Regret plunged into her stomach like a knife.

  Inside the house, she realized he had once again gone above and beyond. Every single box was downstairs. He’d even unpacked her bedding and made the bed. If there had been time, she was sure he would’ve unpacked every box.

  She fell on the bed and covered her face with a pillow. If he kept this up, she’d never want to leave. And she had to. She had to leave Danvers with her heart intact.

  The next morning, Emilie woke with a pounding headache. The room was dim enough, but the tiny rays of light shooting through the break in the curtains hit her squarely in the face. She groaned and rolled over, smashing the pillow over her head. The events of yesterday flooded back, driving the guilt deeper into her gut. She had to make things right with Dean. The hurt in his eyes had been evident as soon as the word smother escaped her mouth.

  Pulling herself out of bed, she groaned some more. The previous night, she’d unpacked until the room looked like it was under siege. Piles of clothes, towels, and miscellaneous items were strewn everywhere. After a long stare at the work she needed to do, she spent the next few hours straightening and putting away what she could.

  Eventually, her stomach growled. She needed to go to the grocery store. The snacks she had left on the kitchen counter would have to do until she made it there.

  Morning light blinded her when she trudged into the kitchen. Her snacks were missing, but a loaf of cinnamon bread sat on the countertop. When had Miss Gail come by? Even if it’d been a while, she’d never forget her adopted mom’s baked goods.

  She dropped into a chair and opened the plastic wrap, ravenous and tired. She didn’t bother finding a knife and tore into the delight with her hands. It melted in her mouth, bursting with flavor. Goodness, that woman could bake.

  Halfway through the loaf, she got up and opened the cupboard for a glass. The same familiar glassware was there. She reached out and grabbed one, her favorite. Simply holding the blue beveled glass sent a wave of nostalgia through her.

  She ran her fingers over the ripples of the glass and remembered the time her mom bought them at a yard sale when Emilie was a little girl. They couldn’t afford much, and her mom was thrilled with the cheap price. One by one, the glasses broke, sometimes accidents, sometimes not. This was the last one left from the set. She hugged it close and moved over to the sink.

  The tap water didn’t taste the best, but maybe the guys who’d helped Dean had left some drinks behind. She opened the fridge door and gasped.

  Instead of dirty, empty shelves, she found it impeccably clean and fully stocked with the basics. Eggs, cheese, bread, lunchmeat, and orange juice. There were even Pink Lady apples in the produce drawer. She’d still need to go shopping, but this would hold her over until she made it to the store.

  She opened the freezer and saw a package of chicken, hamburger meat, and a few freezer meals. When would Dean cease to amaze her? After all he’d done, her words must’ve hit him pretty hard.

  She poured herself a glass of orange juice and settled in her seat again. Today was Sunday and her last day of freedom. Starting tomorrow, she’d have to force herself to stick to a schedule. She had so much to do before the dance studio was ready to open. The rooms might be in mint condition, but if no dancers came, what was the point?

  She cleaned up her mess and washed out the glas
s. Before she got too busy with life, she had one more thing to do.

  She dressed in a bright sundress her mom would appreciate and headed out to the flower shop kitty corner to the city’s cemetery. The flower shop wasn’t open on Sunday, but her mom once told her they always laid any flowers starting to wilt on the back doorstep, and it was worth the try.

  Relief flowed through Emilie when she saw a small bouquet of peach-colored roses on the back steps of the tiny flower shop. Her mom loved that color. There were also a few wilted potted pansies, but she took the roses instead. She’d have to buy some flowers from Mr. Joe later that week.

  She parked at the entrance of Walnut Grove Cemetery and gawked. The cemetery was huge. Bigger than she remembered. Shoot. Would she even be able to find the right grave? The funeral hearse had driven Emilie there on the day of the funeral, and through all of her blurry tears, she couldn’t remember where they’d placed the grave. Only one way to find out.

  Emilie grabbed a water bottle and the flowers with shaky hands then walked through the entrance. Row upon row greeted her. Oh, boy. Yep, it had changed. She swallowed. Her mom wasn’t buried near the front. Okay, it was a place to start, so she passed one row after another.

  Emilie opened her water and guzzled some while sweat beaded and trickled down her back. She’d forgotten how hot it could get in the summertime.

  She slowed her pace and started scanning the headstones. At this rate, finding her mom would take forever. Her cell bounced against her leg in her sundress pocket. Hopefully, it wouldn’t fall out of the shallow opening. First the grave then worry about the cell later.

  Wait, if anyone knew where her mom’s grave was, it’d be Dean. How could she be so stupid? But… Emilie didn’t want to talk to him. Not after her fit the evening before. Yet there was no helping it. She retrieved her cell from her pocket and pulled up his number under contacts. Dean… Emilie glanced around, unsure what to do. After everything he had done for her, she’d acted like a spoiled child.

  Forget it. There was no way she’d call him. Not yet. Besides, if she did, it’d only show she needed him. Whatever. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and started walking again.

  By the time she walked half of the grounds, the rose thorns pressed through the sweaty plastic and scraped her hands.

  Eventually, she sat down on the grass to rest. “Where are you, Mom?” Even though her mom was gone, she frustrated Emilie. She pulled at her dress to cool herself, and an image of Dean standing at a tree with many low, hanging branches flashed across her mind.

  “That’s right.” Excitement grew as the tree took shape in her mind and she stood up again. That shouldn’t be hard to find.

  While she searched for oddly shaped trees, she held on to the memory a little longer. The day of her mom’s funeral, Dean had kept his distance. He’d kept a wide berth that day, giving her time to process what had happened.

  Space. The word pounded in her mind like a jackhammer. If she lived a hundred years, she’d never say that word to Dean again.

  All the trees within distance were skinny and tall. None of them had the gnarly texture she pictured in her mind. After walking some more, she spotted the tree in the older section of the cemetery. She sighed and ran to it. Within seconds of holding on to its thick bark, she spotted her mom’s name on one of the gravestones nearby. Her eyes teared up as she read the inscription for the first time.

  Jocelyn Harper Carter

  1967-2009

  Loved by all who knew her.

  Little stone roses were in each corner of the headstone. Emilie fell to her knees and reverently caressed the inscription before her tears escaped.

  “Oh, Mom.” Her voice broke as emotion clawed its way up Emilie’s throat. “I should have come sooner.” She placed the flowers in the stone vase. “Things have been so hard without you.”

  She bowed her head and sobbed. Hot, heavy tears ran down her face in thick streams, but she refused to wipe them away. Emilie closed her eyes, remembering the hollowed-out face of her mom, cheeks gaunt and tight, eyes expressionless and dark. Her mom hadn’t been herself for a long time, too long. The mental illness started to control her mind, and she hid her medicine away, not taking it most days.

  Dinners were no longer peaceful. Her mom talked to the voices in her head, sometimes shouting at them to quiet down. Emilie stayed up long after bedtime, making sure her mother was sleeping peacefully. By the time she was ready to reach out to Gail, or anyone really, her mother’s mental state was a mess. No, Emilie lost her mom long before she breathed her last breath. A sob tore through her.

  When she could speak again, the words flowed fast and erratic. “I couldn’t go back to that house, Mom. I moved in with Dad and hated every second until I graduated. I got into Juilliard and majored in dance and business.”

  She stopped to catch her breath and then went right back into spitting the last six years into a summary. “Remember that dance company you and I talked about in Boston? I was a shoe-in. I threw myself into work, scoring a few leading parts and getting more involved in teaching dance at local studios. I’ve dated some, but most guys were duds.”

  Despite the somber mood, Emilie scoffed. “My most recent relationship didn’t last long. I caught him with another girl from another dance company. I should’ve expected it from someone like him, but I’ll admit it wounded me. Am I so broken that I can’t open up to another man?”

  Her tears came faster now. “If only you were here. Why do the people I love always leave?” Hiding her face in her hands, she wept for all the lost times they could’ve had together. She’d never forgive her dad for leaving them when her mom fell sick. Her tears fell faster as the regret increased.

  Something lightly touched her shoulder. Emilie gasped and turned around—Dean. He knelt next to her, pain and sorrow etched in his handsome features. “What are you—”

  She stopped talking as his eyes watered with tears. Had he heard everything? Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped at a tear that fell. At that moment, she knew he felt her loss. “I’m sorry I pushed you away last night. Are you okay?”

  He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair. “I’m fine. I’ll never leave. I promise.” Every hoarse word resounded in her head and settled in her heart.

  She leaned into him and wept on his shoulder. For a moment, she took solace and let go, allowing herself to mourn again.

  He patted her back as she cried. “It’s okay. I cry every time I visit her. I miss the old days.”

  Emilie closed her eyes and buried her face in his shirt. It was too warm, but she didn’t care. His smell, his touch, was exactly what she needed to regain her composure. “How did you guess I was here?”

  He looked at the flowers she’d placed in the stone vase. “I bring your mom flowers most Sundays, but my usual bouquet disappeared from the back step of Joe’s flower shop.”

  She smiled for the first time since arriving at the cemetery, and she squeezed his waist. “I didn’t realize they were yours.”

  A zing of heat rushed through her blood when he pulled back and regarded her face. Hunger grew in his eyes while his features held a serious, tender note. If she didn’t leave right then, she was sure to make a mistake. She touched the grave with reverence. “I’ll be back, Mom. Much sooner than before.”

  She stood and gathered her things. “We’d better go.”

  Dean followed her and wrapped an arm around her as they headed down a hill. His light touch was just the comfort she needed.

  “Thanks for not hating me.” Her voice sounded light and free, instead of the heavy sadness from minutes before.

  He looked sideways at her. “Hate you? I’d never hate you.”

  “I was really mean last night. I let my guard down with Ava, and you were just trying to have my back. Thanks for always being there, and I’ve made a promise to never say the two ‘s’ words again.”

  Dean’s brows creased. “‘S’ words. What ‘s’ words ar
e you... Do you mean spa—”

  She covered his mouth and moved her hand immediately when heat erupted from under her fingertips.

  “Or do you mean smot—”

  She took a chance and covered his mouth again, only to discover new fiery tingles swirling in her belly. Bad move to touch his lips. She dropped her hand and turned away before he pointed out the flame in her cheeks. “Space and smother. Both of those words. Never again. You stay by my side as long as you want.” She might regret the decision later, but right then, she only wanted to be generous. Later, she would figure out exactly what it meant if he stayed by her side.

  She turned to see his expression brighten. “How about this? Since you’re trying to turn a new leaf with Ava, let’s watch things carefully together. Don’t let her push you into anything you don’t want to do, and be careful not to let all your walls down when you’re around her.”

  That was a fair trade. “Deal. And I promise not to push you away again.”

  He chuckled and softly pinched her side when they approached their cars. “You’re my fake fiancée. It’s not like you can go anywhere fast. We have to get through Ava’s wedding first.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up in a half smile. “Do you have plans today?” She pulled at her keys instead of looking him in the eye.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m going to thank Gail for the bread and ask her about Ava’s dress fitting.” When he didn’t say anything, she considered him. Was he wincing because she’d mentioned Ava? She smacked his arm playfully. “We have a plan now, remember? Don’t worry about her.”

  After a long sigh, he opened the driver’s side door of her jeep. “Did you want me to come?”

  She shook the keys and got in. “If I’m going to announce our engagement, it’d be better if you tagged along.”

  His eyes caught hers, and her heart skipped. She ignored it. It was just a passing feeling. She waved goodbye and shut the car door. Ignoring feelings never worked. Good thing they’d driven separate cars.