by April Lust
Tomorrow they would burn him, and the ashes would be separated into three portions. One would go with her, one would go into his shop, the last would sit on the shelf at The Saloon. Emma wasn’t sure she deserved one, but no one would take no for an answer.
“You did good, honey.” Hannah linked her arm through Emma’s, tugging her ever so gently from the viewing and into the reception era. Emma thought Hannah looked like a pretty widow, with a clingy dark dress and a little dark hat on the top of her picture perfect locks. She had no idea how that woman always managed to look so together.
“Thank you,” Emma answered. “After you got me to think about this for the living rather than for him, it got easier. The Saloon was the perfect place to have the viewing.”
“Better than the viewing room the morgue had, right? I mean, sure, little old ladies look good with all that soft pink and gray around, but not Mac Ketchum. I hated seeing him in that too nice room.”
“Agreed.”
“And the pot luck idea was perfect.”
Emma wandered with Hannah over to the long line of food people had offered up. Perogies, breads, casseroles, meatballs, and more. “Blame all the casseroles people were offering me.”
“Why do people always wanna give you food when someone dies?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“That’s a first.” Hannah bumped her hip playfully against Emma’s. “Here I thought you knew everything.”
“Hah!” Emma laughed. “Yeah, no. I just like pretending I do.”
“Well, you did good. Everyone is enjoying themselves, which is good considering.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, rumor has it the last time a club president died there were, like, five fights and a stabbing.”
“Oh god.”
Hannah snorted and thumped her palm against Emma’s shoulder. “You look terrified. Sweetie, everything is fine, everyone is enjoying themselves.” She paused for just a moment. “Some more than others.”
Emma tried to find the line of Hannah’s vision. People were packed into The Saloon, drinking and enjoying the food. There were children, men and women, and even Rocco prowling around looking for bites of food. It took her a moment to get a good look, but there Kellan was with an arm slung around Samantha.
“Oh,” Emma said, feeling her stomach go icy. “How nice for them.”
“You gonna stab her?”
Emma reluctantly admitted, “No. I don’t really have the right.”
“He’s your husband. I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before. I mean, a version of it.”
“What do you want me to do? Walk up to her and punch her in the face? I could even haul him off and claim him on the office couch.”
“I wouldn’t recommend the couch. Never know who was on it last.”
“Han, I love you, but that’s not helpful.”
“Awww! I love you, too.” Hannah slung an arm around Emma’s shoulders and hugged her, giving her brow a big smooch. Emma wondered if there was a lipstick mark on her forehead. “But you gotta go tell that bitch to back off.”
“He’s not mine, Han. He’s made that very clear. He’s not mine and he doesn’t want to be.”
Hannah paused and stepped in front of Emma. “Do you want him to be yours?”
“Am I stupid if I say yes?”
“A little, but, honey, it’s totally okay to be stupid when it comes to a man. That’s part of the fun of them.” She gave Emma a gentle shake. “But what’s not okay is letting some bitch pop between you and your man.”
“So what do I do?”
“Let me help you,” Hannah said. She ran a hand down her outfit and straightened her hat. “I’ll pull her off, you sweep in.”
Emma took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Emma didn’t have a clue what Hannah told Samantha, but next thing she knew Samantha was being led away from Kellan by a perfectly manicured hand.
Kellan watched it happen with a bemused smile, one that rose another degree when Emma walked up. “I’m not stupid.”
Emma tucked her arm around him. The move felt possessive and barbaric, but she did it anyway. “Hitting on my husband at my father’s funeral is a bitch move.”
“You could have just stabbed her.”
“People keep saying that.” She felt his arm come around her shoulders.
“I do like possessiveness in a woman.”
“It’s very out of character for me.”
Rudy stepped up. There was a layer of sweat along his upper lip, and his eyes were wide. “Emma, Emma, I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Emma asked. “What for?”
He didn’t have to answer. A woman stepped into her line of sight. The face was lightly freckled, her hair styled into something that would have looked perfectly at home on the front of Mother’s Weekly. An elegant suit hugged a figure that had rounded and aged well. It took Emma a full minute to recognize the face; it was so similar to the one she looked at in the mirror every morning.
“Mom?” she choked out.
# # #
It was like being in a movie, Kellan thought. There Emma was, the young beautiful heroine. Her lips were parted, and her skin had gone pale. Across the way was her mother, dressed like a high school principal who was just waiting for the music to start.
“Oh, Emma!” Her mom surged forward. If she noticed the fact that three Beasts shifted to flank Emma, she didn’t show it. She was either really brave or really stupid. Kellan was guessing the second. She came to a stop just a few inches away, but she didn’t reach out to her daughter. Maybe she was only half stupid.
It was impossible not to see a similarity between the two of them. They had the same bright blue eyes, the same blonde hair. Emma could very well have been a clone, save for the slight tilt of her chin that was all her father’s.
“You grew up. You are so beautiful.” She reached out a single hand.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, jerking away from the touch. Her voice was barely a whisper. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly inside the curve of Kellan’s arm.
“Who invited you?” Kellan wasn’t nearly so quiet. People who hadn’t already been watching were swiveling their heads to get a better view. He didn’t care. Let them look.
The woman’s mouth formed into a disproving line. Her eyes narrowed. “I am not here for you. I’m here for my daughter.”
“Well,” Kellan’s voice was a low growl, “that would be a first.”
“Kellan.” Emma placed a hand on his chest. “Let me.”
He didn’t want to let her, he realized. He could see how much this was bothering her. All he could remember was their night out, when she’d talked about her mother abandoning her.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered to her.
Emma’s soft hand cupped his cheek, the thumb running along his skin. “I know.”
She turned back to her mother. Her shoulders squared and she seemed to settle into something. “Mom,” she said flatly. “If you want to say goodbye to Dad, you are welcome to. But don’t pretend you are here for me.”
“Why would you say that?” She placed her ignored hand across her heart as if she had a pain in her chest. “Why would you ever—”
“Because you left.” Emma cut her off. “You left me, and you left him, and neither of us ever heard from you again.”
“Baby, I had to leave, don’t you understand? I had to leave. I couldn’t stay around all that violence and all that…” She glanced around the room. “Crime.”
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. Kellan knew when Emma had figured out her angle of attack. She had used that same pursed lip look on him whenever she was going to deliver a verbal blow. “Abandoning your child is a crime, Mother.”
Her mother took a step back, “Emma, I never meant to hurt you.”
“Oh? Then what exactly was your intent? What did you really mean to do when you walked out and left the man you clearly thought
so little of with your child?”
“I needed to get my own life together. When I was with your father I depended on him for everything. I got my GED. I went to college. I own my own business now.”
“I’m very happy for you,” Emma answered. “The world needs more female business owners. But I don’t know you, and I don’t want to. I want you to leave.”
“Emma, I’m all the family you’ve got left.”
“No,” Emma snapped back. She took a step forward, but her hand reached back, seeking Kellan’s hand. He linked his fingers through hers. “You aren’t. You aren’t my only family. Yeah, I lost my dad, but do you see all the people here?”
She waved her free hand in the general direction of the rest of the party. “There are people here who came to my science fairs, who came to my graduation, who helped Dad all through his chemotherapy and surgeries. These people, right here, they are my family. You? You are a genetic donor.”
“Emma, that isn’t fair.”
“No, it’s not.” Emma jerked one shoulder in an angry shrug. “But you haven’t really endeared yourself enough to me for fairness, have you? I told you once,.I’ll say it only one more time. I want you to leave.”
Her mother took a long breath. Kellan saw the same pursed look Emma had previously had. “That is your choice. I just thought I’d offer it. If you want to get ahold of me.” She opened the small purse in her hands.
“I won’t,” Emma promised.
“If you do,” she continued, as if Emma hadn’t spoken, “here is my information. I am sorry for your loss.”
She plopped a card down on the table, turned on one heel and walked away. Rudy gave Kellan a look. Kellan could almost hear the question: Do you want me to follow her?
Kellan wanted to know who sent her, where she came from, and where she was going. The woman might not have meant to hurt Emma, but someone had. He gave a nod and Rudy slipped out of the party, pausing long enough to give Hannah a kiss goodbye.
“Excuse me,” Emma said softly, stepping away from Kellan. “I need a moment.”
He let her go. She stormed through the parting crowd towards the back office. The door slammed shut in her wake.
Kellan shook his head. He empathized with her. More than most he knew just how hard that parent crap could be. He didn’t know how he would react if his dad just showed up. No, that wasn’t true. He knew what he would do, and that it would require some bail money afterwards.
“You should go after her.”
Hannah had moved up to his arm. He had no idea when she had walked up, but there she was.
“You think so?”
She nodded and plucked one of the little finger sandwiches off the table. “I do.”
“You trying to set us up?”
She snorted. “Please, that girl doesn’t need help getting set up. She is busty, blonde, and brainy. Which I’m sure you’ve noticed. But this isn’t about that. This is about the fact that her life just came crashing down around her at the worst moment, in the worst way. What she needs is someone to yell at, and someone to cry on.”
“Why me?”
“Because you know all about wanting to scream at a parent.”
“I was thinking something similar a moment ago.”
“Well, then.” She motioned him off. “Go on.”
# # #
“Why did he do it?” Emma asked. Her hands shook as she hit the lever to pour some hot water into a coffee cup. She plopped a tea sachet into the cup and waited. “What in his life was so much that he wanted to be a biker? What was so horrible, so terrible, that he put on a jacket with patches and broke the law? What the hell did he have to prove?”
“Have you ever been on a bike?” His voice was low, even. “Do you know what it means?”
“Means? It means my dad wanted to break the law more than he wanted to raise me, more than he wanted my mother. More than he wanted anything else.”
“I don’t know if I can explain.”
She knitted her brows. Turning off the water and adding sugar to the steadily browning hot water. “Try.”
He shook his head and took a long drag off the cigarette. The tip turned bright as flame, the smoke turned into a plume over his head. He blew the drag out of his nostrils. It formed around his face like mist. “It’s freedom.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t give me that. Don’t—”
“Do you want to hear it? Or do you wanna keep snapping at me?” he asked. He leveled his eyes at her and waited.
She chewed her lip for a moment. “Yeah, I want to know.”
He took another long taste of his cigarette and then flicked it off. His next words came out in slow puffs of gray vapor. “Like I said, it’s freedom. You are used to this big car protecting you from the world. You get in it and you cut yourself off. Everything in there is all yours, your music, your AC, your whatever. It’s isolation. Nothing wrong with that, but isolation isn’t freedom.”
He has a good voice, she thought. There was a rhythm to it that made it easy to listen to. She found her legs relaxing. The cup wasn’t too hot in her hands, just warm enough for comfort. The taste of herbs and sweetness tongue set her at ease. She kept quiet and let him continue.
“You get on the bike and it starts off a little scary. What are you doing, how do you find your balance? It’s like that first time your daddy let’s go of a bike when you are learning to ride.” He paused. “Well, if you had a daddy who did that kind of thing, I guess. The wind slaps you in the face, too hot or too cold, hell, sometimes it’s even raining.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly freeing.”
“That’s just how it starts. After a little while it gets to be more. It becomes more. I mean at first, yeah, it’s pain. But then everything changes. Somewhere between shifting gears and leaning into turns you aren’t just someone riding a bike. You are part of the wind and the rain. You are flying, flying down the road at sixty, or seventy, or eighty. You are high and you are completely free. Nothing matters, not your bills, or your supposedly non-existent daddy issues.”
“You are surprisingly poetic.”
His mouth parted into a shy grin. “You surprised, Miss College?”
“A little,” she answered. She stood up slowly and wrapped a single arm around him. “I like it.”
He put an arm around her back. She leaned her head into the curve of his shoulder. The warm heat of the muscles beneath the denim and the leather sank into her skin. The scent of him beneath all that, Irish soap and some earthy aroma that was all Kellan, infiltrated her senses. For a moment, just a moment, she forgot he wasn’t hers.
She liked him now. No, that wasn’t fair. Emma had always liked Kellan. She had always been enamored of his dark hair and blue eyes, the bad boy swagger. The truth was she’d never really known him. She had just known what he looked like, not who he was. She had learned, over the weeks, that Kellan was a strong man, jagged around the edges, but soft in heart.
But he wasn’t hers. Not really.
There was a knock. Leon poked his head in the door. “Hey, I don’t mean to bug you two.”
“What’s up?” Kellan asked.
“The morgue guys are ready to load up Mac, and there is some paperwork issue that Emma needs to sign off on.”
She cleared her throat and stepped back. “All right, thanks, Leon.”
“I’ll make sure he gets loaded up safely while you sign off on things.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
The guys from the morgue were navigating the hearse around the back of the bar. They gave her a wave as Kellan jogged over to them to help figure everything out. She watched him for just a moment before she saw the other man waving her over.
“Mrs. Mathers?” he asked. He was wearing a nice suit with sensible loafers. “I hate to be a bother. I’m Kyle Richards, I’m one of the lawyers down at Wesley & Manuel. I’m handling your father’s passing. And we have a few questions we’d like to run past you.”<
br />
He flicked out a card and passed it to her. She gave it a look and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of days.”
And she wasn’t expecting him here at all. It bugged her that he had come to her father’s wake. It didn’t seem very professional. Maybe it was normal when you had the wake at the actual funeral home.
“Questions?” she asked, swallowing her frustration. “What kind of questions?”
