Dammit.
She leads me down a passage and her body tenses. When I see the photos on the wall, I clench my jaw to hold back all I feel inside. Graduation photos of someone. Wedding photos of what looks like her parents. Photos of a boy. There are others, must be of the family, and then I stop and pull her to me because I hurt for her. There’s one of four boys and a little smiling girl standing around a birthday cake. She’s the most adorable little girl I’ve ever seen, but you have to really look to see her between the boys.
“You matter to me,” I say, slowly, so she can hear every word. She tries to smile, but gives up, and instead she leans up to kiss me and I savor it, drinking it in.
~*~
There’s an archway right ahead, situated to the right of it is a built-in planter box. Ferns stand waist high. To our left is another archway. Emma starts to move in front of me as we near it, and she tenses even more than I thought possible. She stops behind the wall and takes two quick breaths.
Then a smile appears on her face, but her eyes are still filled with horror.
“Mum,” her tone is cautious. “Does Mum have a minute?” She peeks around the corner of the wall, careful, like a two-year-old that did something wrong, and I stand transfixed like an idiot.
“Yes, babes?” her mother says. But before she can step forward, her mother speaks again, “Did you fix up Barry’s room, he’ll be here any minute? And you need to go and get your grandmother,” she reminds Emma. And then I’m left thinking - why can’t her brother pick up her grandmother?
“I did, Mum,” Emma answers meekly, “and I’ll go in a second, um…” I step around her and she moves with me. “Mum, this is Aiden Holden.” Emma glances at me, looking on edge. “Aiden, this is my mother,” I pick up that Emma doesn’t say her mother’s name.
I move to acknowledge the introduction, although we’ve had our run-in, and I hear the sharp intake of breath from Emma. Her mother is seated at a large, dark oak table in the kitchen. I spot a little round table right behind her, with a phone on it. Damn. That’s where Emma was standing when I phoned, when I couldn’t reach her on her phone.
Her mother doesn’t move to get up. I feel Emma right behind me, hovering nervously.
Her mother smiles up at me, a watery smile and it’s not even eleven. She reaches for my hand and we shake. Emma takes hold of my arm as if she wants to pull me back.
“Finally we meet, Aiden,” her mother says. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Emma darts past me, pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the table. She just went past panic, and is hovering on the point of fragility. The last thing I want to do is sit. I’m too worked up to sit, but I do. It’s cold in the kitchen, and I look over at Emma again, thinking how cold she felt outside. She comes to stand next to me, and I do a double take.
Like, what the hell!
“Please sit, Emma,” I say as calmly as I can manage. I drag a chair closer, and watch as her eyes go wildly from her mother to the chair. “Sit by me,” I say again, taking her hand. It cramps around mine. But she sits, on the very edge of the chair.
“So tell me about yourself, Aiden,” her mother says quite directly. I watch her take a sip of her drink, and Emma shrinks.
So much for the pleasantries. Okay, here we go, round number one.
“I’m one of three children, raised in a loving home.” The last part I’m saying just to see her reaction.
“Emma has an older brother, Barry. He’s a doctor. He has made us so very proud.” I look at Emma as her mother tells me this, but her eyes are on our hands, and I squeeze her fingers.
“I’m in the police force. I believe your husband is too?” I say, and her mother finishes off her drink.
“Emma, fill my glass. Half ice, half wine,” she orders, and Emma’s head snaps up. The look in her eyes is gut-wrenching. She pulls her hand from mine, and takes the glass to do as her mother tells her.
I’m struggling real hard not to move, not to just take Emma and go. I need to talk to Emma first. I can’t just grab her and go.
“Yes, her father is a bobby. You should stay for lunch. We’re having a little do for Emma’s birthday. You can meet the whole family then.”
I blink and turn to look at Emma.
Emma stops me from replying. “We don’t know if Aiden can stay, Mum. We don’t know if he has other plans, Mum.” She says it very carefully, as she places the full glass down next to her mother. She sits down next to me and folds her hands in her lap.
“Of course he’ll want to come,” her mother answers for me.
I roll my shoulders. I’m not used to people talking on my behalf. Before I can respond, her mother reaches over to Emma. She shrinks as small as she can get next to me. She freezes and her hands cramp together, and I see the dread of her mother’s touch wash over her.
My mind hits a higher gear when her mother takes hold of her hand and squeezes it. This is why Emma can’t stand people touching her! It’s years of abuse by this woman.
“You’re beautiful, babes. He’s a lucky fellow.”
Emma gets up slowly and holds her mom’s hand with both of hers. “Mum’s right, but how about I go and get Gran? She must be waiting already.”
I grab at the beam of light with both hands. I have to get her out of here. “I’ll take you,” I say, and I’m up. I take hold of her, pulling her away from her mother.
“That’s awfully kind of you Aiden,” her mother croons, and she picks up the wine glass. “I’m sure you can convince Aiden to stay, babes, after all, he’s come so far to see you.” The look her mother gives her over the rim of her glass is a venomous one.
Everything Emma told me at the cottage is making sense, and now I understand her nightmares. No normal person can live like this.
“I’d like to stay, she doesn’t need to convince me,” I say, and I might be making things worse, but I pull Emma under my arm, feeling the need to shelter her. Her mother’s eyes are hard on us. “Let’s go get your gran.”
“I’ll be right back, Mum. Thirty minutes,” she says.
Her mother smiles that watery smile that’s starting to annoy the hell out of me. “All right, babes.”
Emma speed-walks. She tugs at the material around her neck, stretching it away, as if it’s irritating her, but before we reach the front door I hold her back. “A jacket, Emma. Get something warm.” She looks at me as if she’s doesn't comprehend what I’m saying. “Where’s your room?”
“There,” she mutters and points behind me.
I turn around and pull her in the direction she pointed. She leads me through the dining room. The table is set already, six places. Matching plates, napkins, salt and pepper shakers, the works. There are wine glasses at four places.
She opens a door and steps inside a room twice as small as the one she had at the apartment we shared. There are no cupboards. A bed, a small brown cabinet and a glass table. Her walls are bare. No small knick-knacks to show she lives here.
God only knows how I’m going to make it through today without killing someone! I grind my teeth to keep my anger in. I count to ten and give up when it doesn’t work.
“Where are your clothes, Emma?” I snap. I’m snapping.
“In another room. The…,” she swallows, “spare room.”
I try to catch her eyes but she won’t look at me. She’s embarrassed. I need to calm down for her. She’s fragile as it is.
“Sweetheart, I’d like it very much if you’d take this top off and put something more comfortable on, something warmer,” I say gently.
She shakes her head. “She wants me to wear this,” she whispers. Her voice is shaky.
I take hold of her face and lift it so she has to look at me.
“Either you put on something warmer or I’m going to go buy you clothes.” Her breath erupts into a sob. She can’t see that I’m trying to make this better.
“We have to go. Please! I don’t want to make her angry today,” she’s begging again, and th
en I remember.
“It’s your birthday, sweetheart?” I lean in and she nods.
I press my mouth to hers, but as tight as she’s holding me she doesn’t relax. She’s too wound up.
“Happy birthday, Emma,” I breathe against her mouth.
~*~
I shrug off my jacket and just give her a look when she starts to protest. She looks miserable taking my jacket, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her get cold.
When we approach the car, I hold the keys out to Emma. “I think it’s better if you drive.”
“Huh?” She stares at the keys as if I’m handing her a snake.
“You can drive, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
She looks from the keys to me.
“But,” I prompt.
“You’re the man,” she says. I frown. What does that mean? “I’ve been taught that the man drives.”
“Emma!” I almost choke. “Me … you! Take the damn keys,” I say, with a little more firmness.
She takes them and starts toward the car. I’m going to have to rewire her all over again.
I’m glad when Emma gets in behind the wheel. It gives me time to think. I don’t have to concentrate on the road. She starts the car and I watch her drive.
“What’s this about me being the man?” I’m trying to be calm about it.
Emma keeps her eyes on the road, avoiding eye contact. “It’s an African thing. Men eat first. Men drive. Men walk in front. Men come first with everything. Except my father. In my family’s case it counts for my brother,” she explains some weird version of the middle ages to me.
“You’re being serious?” I ask. I’m actually thinking back to when we lived together now, how she was always behind me, how she brought me my plate of food first. I never picked it up. “I’m American, not British or African,” I say, wishing I could have her looking at me right now. I reach over and squeeze her leg. “I want you next to me, never behind me, unless I’m protectin’ you.”
She smiles tearfully, and blows out hard as she tries to fight the tears back. She doesn’t drive like I expected she would. No nervousness, awkwardness, nothing. She drives quite well.
“Who taught you to drive?”
“A friend of Barry’s. He stayed with us for a little while,” she says.
“How much older is Barry?” I should’ve already asked about her family.
“He is four years older than me.”
“Where does he live, seeing as you had to fix a room for him?” She glances at me for the first time.
“Let’s not talk about him,” she says.
“Let’s do,” I insist. “I’m going to meet him.”
“He lives in a flat, with his girlfriend. She’ll be coming too.”
“What happened yesterday mornin’, Emma,” I ask, stirring the subject of her mother again.
“She was just in a bad mood,” she says.
“It sounded like more than just a bad mood. Tell me what happened.” I push.
I reach for her, brushing her hair away from her neck.
“She just said things,” she whispers. “She was reminiscing.”
“’About?”
“Things. Anything she can think of,” she whispers. “She drinks and then she...” she swallows hard. I wait for her to finish the sentence, “she speeches me.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away fast. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Emma,” I don’t get more than her name out.
“Please, Aiden,” she whimpers.
I slip my hand in behind her neck. I can feel how tense she is. “Okay, sweetheart.”
She pulls up to a gate and smiles suddenly, a real full-blown smile that lights up her face. “We’re here.”
The gate opens after Emma announces us, and we drive up to a cute little apartment. They say if you want to know what someone is going to look like when they are old, you need to look at her mother. They are so wrong. I look at Emma’s grandmother and I see her, I see Emma years from now.
We get out, and Emma darts forward to hug her gran tightly.
“Happy birthday, love. I see you brought me a present,” her gran jokes, looking approvingly at me. “So your fellow came.” She moves frailly, and concern flits over Emma’s face. “Well, come on, give us a hug.” She opens her arms wide to me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I hug her fragile body to mine.
“Oh, what a charmer,” she says. The moment tugs at my heart.
Emma’s face is glowing. She’s rocking back on her heels with her hands behind her back, like a little girl. Her eyes are warm on us, on me meeting the one family member that means something to her. This is a special moment for her.
“You ready, Gran?” she asks. “Can I get anything for you?”
She shoots forward to hover around her gran, the most precious person in her life.
“I’m good, love. Let’s get this farce over with,” she grumbles, starting to shuffle toward the car. I open the door for her and help her to settle in.
Emma gets in behind the wheel, and I close her door before I move around the car. So this is also the place Emma applied for work, it’s nice.
She drives slower back.
“What mood is Cruella De Vil in?” her gran asks from the back, and I almost choke trying to keep my laughter in. She has that one spot on.
“She’s okay, not too bad,” Emma answers.
You could’ve fooled me.
~*~
Chapter Twenty One
Emma~
I can’t believe Aiden is here! I keep stealing glances to make sure it’s not my imagination, that I haven’t gone totally mental and started having delusions.
My day would’ve been perfect with just Aiden and Gran. But it’s a nightmare, just bloody awful. It feels as if my insides have turned to stone. I wish I were made of stone, so I couldn’t feel any of this. Every breath I take hurts more than the one before. It feels as if my mother is reaching in and trying to squeeze the last drop of life out of me.
But, as wonderful as it is having him here, I’m super tense that my mother will say something to embarrass me in front of him, and now he’s staying for lunch. Which means she’ll have time to get really sloshed. He’ll see her at her finest. I wish I could hide out here in the car.
But, instead, I park the car close to the door, so Gran won’t get wet. I get out quickly to help her. With her moving slower and slower every day I’m getting worried. When she’s gone I’ll have no one. Well, besides Aiden and Chloe, and who knows how long they’ll be there before they grow tired of me.
As Aiden walks around the car, I shrug out of his jacket. I can’t wear it in the house; my mother will frown on it. “Thank you for the jacket, but it looks better on you,” I smile to try and make it all better.
“Mum,” my mother squeals behind me. My heart stutters to a halt and I spin around. I’ve learned to never turn my back to her, always face her – it’s better to see her face – see what’s coming. “Finally, Barry should be here any second.” She shoots me a dark glance and I check the time. I’ve done it in twenty-five. I’m not late. But the venomous look holds nothing good for me.
She’s upset because Aiden’s here, and I’m going to pay for it once he leaves. Dread starts to spin a web in my chest. I feel the cold wave of it spread through my body and I shiver. I’m dead. She’s going to rip me to shreds tonight!
I take in a slow painful breath, and it catches in my thoat. Aiden’s arm slips around my waist, and when his chest presses warm against my back I almost give in to the tears. That would just be the icing on the bloody cake! I need to control myself better. His other hand takes hold of mine, and he weaves his fingers through mine. I cramp mine around his. I need him! I don’t think he’ll ever understand how much I need him.
“I have you,” he whispers in my ear. He presses his hand over my aching stomach, and it feels so unbelievably good. I can’t keep myself from leaning b
ack into him. “You’re safe, Emma. I’m here.”
I want to laugh and cry all at once. But, by some miracle I manage to keep still, or maybe it’s just the horrid fear.
~*~
Barry comes up the drive in the car he got from my parents for his twenty-first. I watch my mother walk over to him, and it’s times like this I wonder if I’m not adopted.
“Barry,” my mother says lovingly, holding her arms open to him.
“Hello, Mum,” he says, smiling warmly. He wraps her up in his arms. My brother is tall. A little taller than Aiden, even. He’s my mother’s heart and soul, pride and joy. He’s the crown prince of her kingdom. (In short, he’s her everything.) “How are you?” he asks.
“Just wonderful, now that you’re here,” she beams at him. “Hello, Meredith,” she says to his girlfriend, and I’m not always sure how she feels about Meredith, and whether she just tolerates her for Barry. My mother has only ever loved two people – Barry and herself.
“Afternoon, Jane.” There’s a lot of smiling.
They come toward us, and I take hold of Aiden’s hand over my stomach, gripping it tightly. I wish I could take him and run. It feels as if I’m degrading him too, subjecting him to my mother. I feel sick.
“Babes, why don’t you run along and fix Barry a cuppa,” my mother instructs.
“Yes, Mum.” I move out of Aiden’s embrace, missing his warmth instantly.
“Aiden,” she says, and I freeze. “Why don’t you join us in the sun room? Emma won’t fall apart without you.”
I die! I bloody well die!
My stomach does an awful wobble thing, and then it drops to the wet ground. Aiden steps half in front of me. I think the world stops spinning to see what’s going to happen next. It even stops raining.
He reaches out his hand to my brother. “We haven’t met. I believe you’re Emma’s brother?” he asks, and then his voice dips, the way it does when he’s upset. “I’m Detective Aiden Holden; Emma’s soon-to-be fiancé.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I tell myself this as Barry takes Aiden’s hand. It all looks normal, but it’s not. Aiden just said the F word.
I think my mother has stopped breathing. She needs a drink, straight from the bottle – skip the ice and glass.
Wake Me Up (Love Knows No Boundaries) Page 20
