The Leftovers of a Life

by Anna Oney

  Emma helped Tom up, and he sat on the edge of the coffee table. With his head in line with Emma's chest, it was easier for her to tend to the bleeding without straining to reach up. Evading his cold stare, Emma grabbed her canteen from the kitchen table. After using it to wet an edge of the towel, she began wiping the blood from his face and dabbing softly around his nose. The blood flow had slowed, which helped Emma tremendously during the cleaning process.

  Sadly, Emma noticed his nose seemed to be leaning slightly to the left. Shit, she thought. There goes his perfect face.

  As Emma held the towel, she peered into his piercing blue eyes, which stood out against the red that was quickly soaking the cloth. Despite the pain she caused him, Tom's icy stare somehow became replaced by a loving one. Made uncomfortable, Emma ducked her chin and stared at Tom's hands, which were resting upon his knees. Unnerved, she watched as his fingers began tapping, seemingly impatient, against them.

  In an attempt to settle the tension, she lifted the towel to check the status of the blood flow. Happy to see it had slowed, Emma asked, "Does it hurt?" Strangely, he chose not to speak. Nervous, she turned her back on him, and squeaked, "I'm gonna get you some more water."

  Keeping Emma from leaving the room, Tom snatched her wrist from behind and spun her back around. Aggressively, he pulled her toward him and squeezed her body against his, leaving Emma no choice but to rest her arms upon his broad shoulders. A fantasy of hers began coming to life as he pressed his lips to the base of her neck. The sensation of Tom's muscular arm circling around her waist rendered her immobile. Catching Emma off guard, Tom shoved his free hand beneath the back of her shirt and ran his fingers along her spine.

  Emma was sorry Tom stopped, but she was grateful that he lingered at the back of her bra. Swiftly, Emma's insecurities floated away as he unclasped the restraints. Their bodies seemed to be attached as one. Emma could barely contain herself as Tom glided his fingers across her back, then traveled across her stomach and ribs before lifting up the unclasped bra. Emma's breathing quickened along with his as his cupped hand made a soft landing upon her bare breast.

  Just as Tom lifted Emma's shirt, their hungry, rattled, desire-filled breathing was interrupted as Jane barged through the door with Mrs. Maples by her side, clutching at her medical kit. Emma detached from Tom as a mischievous smile stretched across Jane's face.

  Stepping to the side, Jane allowed Mrs. Maples to push through. Before tending to Tom, the old woman stared Emma in the face. Emma's cheeks were flushed from embarrassment.

  "I think you need some fresh air," Mrs. Maples said.

  "Yeah." Jane cackled. "She . . . she sure does."

  Escaping their judgmental looks, Emma sprinted from the house and spotted Stella, Lizzie, and Claire returning up the hill, but she refused to slow her stride, which seemed to leave them confused. They stared after Emma as she kept running; Stella was the only one who changed her path to that of her master's.

  When Emma reached the dock, she sat on the bench, and thought, What have I done? A private moment had just been witnessed by Jane, the worst gossiper alive. Oh, Lord, what have I done?

  Overlooking the pond, Emma fastened her untamable curls into a sturdy bun and sat, perfectly content, watching Stella snap at the turtles surfacing near the edge of the dock.

  Tom's affection was something she needed and craved. For a moment, Emma had let down her guard, and it had felt good to be free—to be controlled only by her emotions and desires rather than by her calculating mind.

  As the afternoon approached, Emma was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to notice Darby sitting next to her. To get her friend's attention, Darby grabbed her hand and licked it. Grossed out, Emma snatched away her hand and wiped the back of her moistened skin on Darby's sleeve.

  "Why'd you lick me, you crazy nut?"

  "I've been calling your name, you silly gooberhead, for like twenty minutes. You ignore me, you get licked."

  "Oh, okay then, if you put it that way."

  "I certainly do put it that way." Darby giggled, winking.

  Eyeing her, Emma asked, "What's with you?"

  "Oh, nothing," she sighed. "Just a few minutes ago, a certain impressionable teenager came running my way."

  "And why'd she do that?" Emma asked, already knowing the answer.

  "You kissed Tom! You heifer, you!"

  "I really wish you'd cross the word 'heifer' off your list of terms of endearment. I guess the whole road knows then, huh?"

  "Yeah, pretty much everyone."

  "That's just terrific." Emma groaned.

  ***

  Upon their arrival to Emma's childhood home, they found all of Back Wood's children engrossed in Doolie's enthralling tale of how he'd killed a massive boar. Emma and Darby didn't wish to interrupt, so they waved at him and sat next to Cason, Emma's small cousin, who was only five-years-old. It didn't matter who it was, the child never missed an opportunity to sit in anyone's lap. As soon as she got comfortable, Emma gained a small, bright-eyed accessory. Cason seemed to be Stella's favorite child, because she never missed the chance to lick the poor boy to death.

  Soon, Doolie was finished telling his tale, and he ordered all the kiddos inside to finish their lessons with Shirley. Nobody bucked Doolie without a whooping, so they did as they were told, except for Cason, of course, who was distracted from his great-uncle's commands by excess love from Stella.

  "But . . . I don't wanna go back inside with Uncle Shirley," he whined. "I don't wanna."

  The boy had referred to Emma's mother as Uncle Shirley since the day he could talk. To the Clerys, it had been too adorable of a thing to correct, so they'd let it be.

  "Go on inside now," Emma said, pecking him on the cheek. "Go on."

  "Okay." Cason pouted, and before he reached the door, he waved and said, "Bye-bye, Stella."

  Without the children around, Doolie allowed his facial expression to turn from its shade of obviously forced happiness to its normal expression of annoyance. At that moment, Emma could sense her father was drowning himself in the deep waters of self-pity. Pillows were propped against the backrest of Doolie's favorite rocking chair to help keep him comfortable.

  "Whatchu two doing here?" he said. "Ain'tcha s'posed to be working out, or whatever it is you do with that guy?"

  "We called it quits early today," Emma said, glancing Darby's way.

  "Whatchu looking at her for?"

  "No reason." As the words escaped her mouth, Emma felt Darby's body brush against her shoulder. Her blue hair disappeared inside, and Emma realized she'd been abandoned.

  "Would you like me to ignore what just happened?" Doolie chuckled.

  "I'd 'preciate it."

  "You got it." Doolie smiled, motioning toward the chair next to him. "Have a seat."

  Emma joined his side, and Doolie patted his daughter's knee.

  "So how's the planning for y'all's trip coming along? It's soon, ain't it?"

  For a moment, Emma was distracted by the hummingbirds circling the feeder, but then she replied, "Going good."

  "When you plan on leaving?"

  "Day after tomorrow. That'll give me enough time to tell the girls and let it sink in."

  "Baby doll, it'll never sink in. You leaving this road without my protection hasn't even sunk in for me."

  "It's gonna be hard, I know, but they'll live. They're strong."

  "They're strong-minded like you?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Good, good. That's good. Tom still up for the trip and all? He ain't giving you any trouble, is he?"

  Tom isn't invited, she thought. "He's excited, actually. He's been referring to it as a fun getaway, even."

  "Look, you live as long as I have you learn to expect the worst out of people. So, will you be able to inflict the same kind of savagery that may be inflicted upon you?"

  "I will do whatever I believe is necessary."

  "Listen, you're my daughter, and that means you're the one part of me t
hat my heart can't afford to lose. I love you more than life itself. It doesn't set well that I won't be there to protect you. You better be damn well sure of yourself before you step one foot off this road. Because once you're gone, the only person you can trust is yourself and that dog of yours."

  "You know . . . Tom can be trusted, too."

  "I know, baby doll. Tom just doesn't seem to know it for himself. You make sure and remedy that."

  Before Emma could respond, her attention was drawn toward a flash of blue. Peeking around the corner was Darby's face, which displayed a mixture of anger, betrayal, and pure hatred directed at Emma.

  "Oh, hey there, Darby." Emma awkwardly stood up. "I didn't hear you come back outside."

  "Doolie, Emma and I've got places to be," Darby said.

  "Okay?"

  "Yeah, and we'll be gone for the rest of the day," she said, shoving Emma toward the steps. "C'mon, move it. Let's go."

  The direction Darby took suggested their destination was Mary's house. Emma's great-aunt's place was secluded, and the people who happened to visit her were on a short list. Whatever Darby planned on saying wasn't something she wanted the whole road to hear—which made Emma realize her and Doolie's big secret wasn't one anymore.

  Once they were out of earshot, Darby eased up the pace.

  "I cannot believe you'd keep something like this from me," she said to Emma.

  "It's not like I'm leaving for an escape or anything like that. It's for a good cause."

  "Risking your life for someone who's never appreciated anything you've ever done for him isn't what I'd call a good cause. How many times have you had to pick him up off the ground? He's not worth it, Emma. Griffin is not worth your life!"

  "I've kept your secrets." Squeezing Darby's hand, Emma forced her friend to meet her gaze. "And sometimes, I've even chosen to keep a blind eye to lies of your own, so now . . . I'm asking you to do the same."

  "None of my secrets were a risk. Yours will get you killed. You haven't been out there. I have. You think people were shitty before? Well, they're even shittier now."

  "I won't be alo—"

  "Don't you start lying to me, too," she said. "Watching you lie to Doolie was brutal. Your voice reaches a screeching-high pitch when you lie. Dogs can even hear you."

  "You're my friend. You're s'posed to support me."

  "I'll support anything you do if it's smart and thought through. This plan of yours doesn't even come close to meeting those two criteria. Since your parents seem to be on board with it, it's my job to tell you what a complete jackass you're being."

  "If you love me, if you truly do, you won't say anything to anyone . . . especially Tom."

  "Why?"

  "It's just not his business."

  "But . . . he desperately wants it to be," Darby pleaded.

  "I'm not putting anyone's life in danger but my own."

  "The only way I'm keeping this wretched secret of yours is if you take Stella along with you."

  "Way ahead of you there. We've already discussed it."

  Chapter 23:

  Emma

  The two days Emma had planned on using to inform the girls of her departure went by in a flash. Unfortunately she still lacked the courage to tell them, but she was already packed and ready to hit the trails the next morning. There was no time left for procrastination; Emma absolutely had to get this done.

  Emma and the girls headed down their secret trail toward their hidden muscadine vine. Emma and Jane were on the ends, with Claire and Lizzie in the middle. Surprisingly, Jane had volunteered to carry the yellow bucket they planned on filling to the top with the delicious berries.

  "Monkey vines, monkey vines, here we come!" Claire exclaimed, skipping along, forcing Lizzie's, Jane's, and Emma's arms to stretch behind her.

  "It's mus-ca-dine," Jane scolded. "Duh."

  "She can call it monkey vines if she wants to," Emma said, tugging on Claire's arm to slow her down. "Don't be getting all high and mighty."

  Side by side, Stella and Ripley led the way. They strutted as though it were their job to protect the girls, but every now and then they got distracted, either by a squirrel scurrying up the nearest tree or a rabbit fleeing for his life and hopping across the trail. When this happened, the dogs would disappear into the woods only to return empty-handed.

  Roughly a mile from Back Wood, they reached their secret place where an abundance of muscadines grew. Immediately, the girls broke hands with Emma and sprinted toward the nearest vine, and the picking began.

  The wild berries thrived hidden from view. Not only were there muscadine grapes, but blackberries and honeysuckle vines as well. The honeysuckle grew through the fallen timber and wrapped around each trunk, beautifully displaying their yellow-and-white flowers. A couple of dogwood trees grew randomly beside the tall pines. Emma could see their white flowers through the trees' multitude of browns and greens. Pine needles covering the trail cushioned the ground for anyone wishing to rest. The path was shortened by timber that had been cut down and forgotten years earlier. It was a cozy nook where all sorts of birds nested freely in the trees. Other small animals nestled secretly in the fallen logs' crevasses. It was a place where crickets chirped and dragonflies roamed the air. It was a place of serenity and much-appreciated shade. It was their own little wonderland, a safe haven.

  Sitting on the sidelines, Emma watched the girls pick. Soon it turned into a race of who could pick the most. To catch the berries, they held the bottoms of their shirts up to their stomachs, making a pouch.

  "Look!" Lizzie joyfully exclaimed. "We all look like momma kangaroos!"

  Stella and Ripley gobbled any stray berries that fell to the ground. They spat them out at first, promptly wiggling their noses and shaking their ears. But after consuming the third, they were hooked. At first, Emma was concerned about what would happen to their systems, but then it dawned on her that she'd seen them eat an entire cardboard box. The worry left Emma's mind as soon as the memory surfaced.

  Once the girls' picking rampage came to an end, each of them sat opposite Emma and emptied their shirt-pouches on the ground. Claire, being the youngest, waved for Emma's assistance in counting. After tallying up each pile, the winner ended up being Lizzie, who never seemed to enjoy the bittersweet and sour taste of the muscadine berry.

  Though Stella and Ripley put up a good fight, Emma and the sisters managed to gather the treats and secure them inside of the bucket without dropping any. Finished, the girls rose from the ground, but Emma remained seated.

  Grasping the handle of the bucket, Jane glanced over her shoulder, and asked, "Aren't we going home now?"

  "I brought y'all here to tell you something. C'mon back now," Emma said, patting the ground. "Sit your bottoms down."

  "I'm scared," Claire said.

  Lizzie chimed in.

  "Me too."

  "Yeah, me three," the oldest sister said, sitting next to them.

  "You remember me telling y'all the time would come when I'd have to leave?"

  "I thought you changed your mind," Jane said.

  "I know I should've told you girls sooner . . . but I'm leaving tomorrow to find Griffin."

  Jane snatched a handful of berries from the bucket and threw them at Emma's face, catching her off guard. Beside their sister, Lizzie and Claire began crying into each other's shoulders. Before Emma could say another word, Jane reached into the bucket to grab more. On her knees, Emma snatched Jane's wrist, forcing the berries to drop to the ground.

  "Don't you dare!" Emma shouted, and as soon as she'd said the words, the teenager's body was latched to hers. Jane sobbed into Emma's shoulder, and Lizzie and Claire ambushed her with hugs as well. "I will come back. I promise I will. I'll only be gone for six or seven days."

  "No . . . no, no, you won't," Jane said between uncontrollable sobs. "Promises don't mean anything. Momma and Daddy promised they'd show up to my softball games. They promised Lizzie they'd show up to her poem readings. They pro
mised they'd show up to Claire's dance recitals."

  "Please don't go." Claire softly cried.

  "You're the only person we can count on." Jane continued, "What are we supposed to do if you don't come back?"

  "Would you just stop and listen for one minute? What if it was one of your sisters out there, alone and scared? Huh? What would you do then?"

  Ignoring Emma's what-ifs, Lizzie asked, "But . . . what's going to happen to us?"

  "You're surrounded by people who love you," Emma replied, taking her hand. "You'll be fine."

  "Not as much as you," Claire said.

  "That's not true. Everyone loves you girls."

  "The boy is supposed to go after the girl," Lizzie stated. "You're doing it all wrong."

  "Maybe that's the way it was done a long time ago, but baby girl, not anymore. Nowadays, you can't count on a man to do the heavy lifting. Women are the ones more apt to be the hero. Besides"—she winked—"we're the mature ones. You're gonna have to rely on yourselves to get things done. Don't you wait on a man to do anything for you. Do it yourself."

  The girls huddled together, whispering among themselves. After the sisters' little powwow, Emma was informed their discussion was an A and B conversation, so she should see her way out of it, or else. When they chose to include her again, they stood and ordered Emma to remain seated. Surrounding her, they designated Lizzie as the speaker.

  "The only way we're letting you leave is if you take Stella with you."

  "Why does everyone keep saying that? You really think I'd leave without my Stella?" Emma smiled, reaching for them. The pit bull was the first to respond, jumping into Emma's arms before the girls had the chance.

  "Besides, I'd never hear the end of it," Emma managed to reply between Stella's slobbery kisses.

  "And what about the hunk?" Jane asked. "Huh?"

  "I need you three to keep a secret for me. Can y'all do that?"

  "Depends on what it is," Jane muttered.

  "I need you to keep my leaving to yourselves. For as long as I'm gone . . . Don't mention it to anyone, especially Tom. And it'll help you keep it to yourselves if you're not hanging around him as much."