by Anna Oney
Emerging from the cell, they found Reed leading the horses toward them. Reed handed Emma the reins, picked up Shelby, and said, "Get on. I'll hand her to you."
Once Emma was situated, Reed raised Shelby above his shoulders and carefully placed her before Emma.
"Hang on tight," Reed whispered, patting Shelby's knee. "You're in good hands. You need any help?" he asked, raising his chin toward Tom.
"All the help I can get." Tom said, lowering Griffin's feet to the ground. "You don't have to hold him," he said, waving Reed over. "Just don't let him fall."
Reed stepped forward, draped Griffin's arm over his shoulder, and whispered, "Gotcha, buddy."
From the horse, Tom leaned over the side and grasped the sides of Griffin's torso.
"When I lift him," he said, "grab his legs."
The hostility thriving between them seemed to have evaporated. Instead of bickering, as Emma had expected, they'd decided to swallow their pride and work together. They managed to successfully secure Griffin on the horse without him plummeting face-first to the ground.
"You got him?" Reed asked, prepared to catch him.
Tom tugged gently on Griffin's shoulder until he leaned back against Tom's chest. Carefully, he reached to grasp the reins before him.
"I got him," he said.
Nodding, Reed replied, "All right then." Turning to face Emma, he said, "You won't be followed." When he reached the side of Emma's horse, which blocked Tom's view, Reed continued. "I swear it."
"'Preciate it."
Taking Emma's hand, Reed whispered, "If only, Emma." He sighed, caressing her skin. "If only I'd had the sense to leave before things got outta hand." Putting his lips against her knuckles, he leaned forward, seeming to make sure no one could hear but her, and whispered, "I should've kissed you the first time we said goodbye."
"Oooooo!" Shelby accusatorily exclaimed.
"What did he just say?" Tom said.
"Nothing."
"Yes, he did," Shelby argued.
"Hush," Emma said. "C'mon, let's head that way."
With the short distance between their homesteads, Emma was certain they would cross paths again. But as they began trotting away, Emma couldn't deny the sudden feeling of loss plaguing her inner being. As Tom's significant other, the considerate thing to do would be to forget. Forget that Reed had turned on his own family to save her life. Forget the undeniable connection they shared. Forget his willingness to prevent his people from harming hers by any means necessary. Forget. Forget. Forget, Emma recited to herself, but the question was: What do I do if I can't forget?
As they distanced themselves from the barn, Emma made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder. When she did, she found Reed staring after her with overwhelming sadness lingering in his gaze. Despite his heartache, Reed mustered up a smile and waved in Emma's direction. Before turning away, he dipped his hat just as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Goodbye, my friend," she whispered. "Goodbye."
Chapter 46:
Emma
Their journey home was uneventful until Emma began catching glimpses of Griffin slipping in and out of consciousness. Witnessing this only multiplied her concern, and to make matters worse, he began whispering incoherently.
"What's he saying?" she asked, leaning to hear.
"Hell if I know." Tom chuckled.
"That ain't funny! He's delirious as hell."
"He's going to be fine. Mrs. Maples'll take good care of him."
"But—"
"Damn it, Emma," he said. "Stop worrying. You can suck the certainty right out of people. Just keep your eyes on the road ahead of you. We're almost there."
From then on, instead of voicing her unappreciated concerns, Emma kept them hidden away until they reached Back Wood's barrier. Winston and Maddox stood on the opposite side of the fence gawking, amazed, as they approached.
It wasn't until Emma and Tom reached the threshold that a rattled sigh of relief escaped them.
"My God," Winston whispered. "It's him."
"C'mon, open the gate," Emma said, motioning toward the lock. "C'mon."
"Oh, sorry," Maddox replied, fumbling through the keys. "He looks like shit."
"Well, he feels like it too." She sighed, irritated. "Move. We're coming through."
Emma and Tom left them, and it wasn't long before they arrived, unexpected, at Mrs. Maples's front porch. Before they'd left, Emma had failed to mention there was a possibility Griffin was wounded. Though it was more of a fact than a possibility, she hadn't wanted to burden Shirley with worry. Emma knew her mother was having a difficult enough time grappling with Doolie's passing.
"Okay, Griffin," Tom said. "We're here."
Cooper noticed their arrival, and came sprinting through the door to assist in any way he could.
"What can I do?"
"Here, take Shelby for me," Emma replied.
"But, I don't know him," Shelby whined.
"That's Cooper. Don't worry; he's sweet."
Emma lifted Shelby from the horse, and lowered her into Cooper's reaching arms. She was relieved when the girl's feet touched the ground safely. Emma slid from the saddle, tied the reins to the railing, and did the same with Tom's.
"Shelby," she said, "go sit on the swing. We don't need to be stumbling over you."
Once she was settled, Emma and Cooper positioned themselves next to Tom's mare and prepared to assist in lowering Griffin to the ground.
"You got his legs?" Tom asked, gripping his shoulders. "You got them?"
"Yeeeah." She grunted, struggling to keep him from plummeting to the ground. "Yeah, c'mon."
On his feet, Griffin's legs buckled immediately. Catching him before he hit the ground, Cooper looked to Emma, and frantically exclaimed, "I can't hold him myself!"
"My bad," she replied, draping Griffin's arm over her shoulder. "Tom, could you?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, dismounting. "Sorry."
Together, Emma and Tom managed to lead Griffin up the steps while Cooper held open the door.
"Stay there," she commanded Shelby. "I'll be back in a sec."
As they passed over the threshold, they found Mrs. Maples waddling downstairs.
"What the hell?" she said. "I thought it was gonna be a simple pickup?"
"Sorry."
"Lay him on the bed," Mrs. Maples instructed as she rolled up her sleeves.
"Do we have anything to fight off the infection?" Emma asked, stepping aside.
"Nothing hospital-approved. But Emma, listen to me," she said. "This'll take some creativity on my part. You're gonna have to make peace with the fact that I may not be able to save him."
"I have faith in you," Emma replied, grasping Griffin's hand. "I know you can do it."
"Then leave us to it," she said, motioning toward Cooper. "We got this. Nothing pisses me off more than folks being in my way. Go on, now. Shoo."
"We'll take good care of him," Cooper said.
"C'mon, baby," Tom whispered beside her. "Let them do their thing. It's out of your hands."
Locking eyes with him, Emma replied, "That's what I'm afraid of."
They exited the house, and made themselves comfortable on the top step, where Emma would attempt to wait it out. Tom watched, disgusted, as Emma bit nervously at her nails and gnawed at her split ends.
Fidgeting where he sat, Tom snatched her hand from her mouth.
"Stop doing that!" he blurted out.
"Oh, little pet peeve of yours?"
"I can ignore your country-ass ways," he said, "but I can't abide you biting your nails. I just can't do it."
Shelby joined in.
"That's gross."
"Well, I can't promise y'all I won't do it again."
"Don't you think we should fetch Shirley?"
"I don't want to tell her anything unless it's good news."
"Either way it goes," he said, "she deserves to know. Not knowing will drive her nuts. She'll need the closure."
Little did they
know, Emma's cousins had already broken the news to her mother. Emma was made aware as she spotted Rambler running ahead of Shirley, with the girls, Darby, and lastly, Link, who was limping behind them.
"Is he in there?!" Shirley exclaimed. "Is he?"
"Yes, but Mom—" Emma began to reply as Shirley brushed past her shoulder. "Momma, wait!" Before she could open the door, Emma grabbed Shirley by the arm, and pulled her back. "Momma, you can't. Not now."
"But I, I want to see him."
"I know you do. I know. But Mrs. Maples needs her space."
Calming her took some effort, but after the second hour of pacing on the porch, Shirley relaxed and seemed to realize that no news was better than bad news. To keep herself busy, Shirley gave in to the girls' persistent pleas to braid their hair. By the time Shirley was finished, Jane sported spirals of three different braids circling the back of her head, Lizzie had fishtail pigtails, and Claire sported a simple French braid down the middle of her skull. Shelby was the only child who hadn't requested anything of her. She'd simply introduced herself and sat next to Shirley on the step.
While the girls boasted about their new hairdos, Darby and Link bombarded Emma with questions.
"Did they just give him to you?" Link asked.
"No, it took some convincing."
"So . . . you think they'll cause anymore trouble?" Darby asked.
"Maybe. But if Reed has anything to say about it, then no."
"You trust him that much?" Link interjected.
"Yeah," she said. "I do." As Emma said this, a low growl came from the man sitting next to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, grasping Tom's hand, "but I do."
"I know," he grumbled. "I know. It's just going to take some time for me to."
Their conversation was interrupted by the front door screeching open. Turning their heads, they rose from the steps and gawked at Mrs. Maples wiping blood from her hands. Unlike the others', Emma's attention wasn't held by the blood. It was held by the somber look in her eyes.
"Well?" Darby asked.
"I removed the stitching they done and cleaned it up as best I could. Used some aloe vera and honey from the hive," Mrs. Maples continued. "Had some apple cider vinegar leftover. That helped."
Emma didn't care what she'd used. The only thing that interested her was if he was going to pull through or not.
"For the love of," Tom said. "Just say it."
Mrs. Maples stepped through the doorframe, and took Shirley by the hand.
"Shirley, I think your boy's gonna be just fine."
The relief stretched across Shirley's face was enough to bring Emma to tears.
"Is he awake?" Emma asked, instantly by her mother's side.
"He needs to rest for now. It'll be a battle to continue fighting the infection, but long as he's willing to fight it with us, he'll be all right."
"What about the fever?" Tom asked, gripping Emma's waist.
"The fever, I'm glad to say, is something we can treat. We boiled some basil and made some tea. The herb should help bring it down some."
"Can I see him?!" Shirley cried.
"You go on ahead. But one at a time; it's cramped in there. He needs room to breathe."
One at a time, they took turns filing in except for Tom, the girls, and Cooper, who was passed out on the couch from all of the knowledge he seemed to have absorbed. Shelby was the only person Mrs. Maples allowed to stay in the room at all times. Emma sensed there was an undeniable bond between Griffin and the girl—one a father and daughter would share.
For four nights, the girls and Shelby stayed with Darby and Link while the rest helped tend to Griffin's needs. Between the five of them, they agreed upon shifts, but Shirley only rested when Emma forced her to do so. Shirley's was the first shift, then it was Cooper's turn, then Mrs. Maples's, Tom's, and lastly, Emma's.
As Griffin slept, Emma watched his chest rise and fall, praying he would pull through. But she dreaded the day he could stay awake long enough to be told the news of their father.
The next day, she woke beside Griffin's bed to find his puffy eyes staring back at her. Like his hair, the sheet beneath him was drenched with sweat. Griffin's fever had broken during the night, and as she looked at him and he looked at her, the tiniest grin formed at the edges of his mouth.
"Hey, sister."
"Hey, brother."
"Am, am I home?" he asked, weakly trying to sit up.
"Yes, but, wait." She grasped his arm. "Lemme help you."
As Emma propped him against the pillow, he seemed to be thrown into a state of panic. Frantic, Griffin began scanning the room.
"Wh-where's Shelby?" he asked.
"She's with Darby. She's fine. Momma shou—"
"Momma!" he cried. "I want to see her. I want to see Momma. It's been—"
"I know, I know. It's okay. It's almost time for her to be here."
"Is Daddy mad? He's mad, ain't he?"
Caught off guard, Emma's eyes began filling with tears.
"He, ummm," she said. "He, uh." The sudden change in her demeanor seemed to express what she couldn't put into words. "He—"
"Daddy's gone . . . isn't he?"
"Yes, Daddy's gone."
It pained her to tell him, but at the same time, she felt as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. It was done, and Griffin knew everything he needed to know. There was nothing left to confess. Now it was his turn, but timing was everything. Obviously Emma would have to wait it out, but for how long? After all, she'd never been known as a patient person.
After embracing him, Emma left the room to check if Shirley had arrived. Disheartened that she hadn't, Emma sat next to Cooper, who was still asleep. As Emma shifted upon the couch, he woke with a start.
"What? What is it? Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Things are great, actually. He's awake."
"Really?" He said, struggling to sit up. "For real?"
"For real."
Lying at the opposite end of the couch, Tom groggily whispered, "What is it," emerging from underneath the covers. "What's going on?"
"He's up."
"Took him long enough." He yawned. "Didn't it?"
"I guess if you two are still sleeping, that means Mrs. Maples is too?"
"Yeah, if it's not an emergency, don't be waking her up," Cooper advised.
Emma rose from the couch, pecked each of them on the forehead, and left them to sleep for a little while longer. As she exited the house, she saw that the sun had just begun to rise, and with the slamming of the door behind her came yelps from the goats demanding to be set loose into the pasture. Since their pen resided next to Shirley's house, Emma decided to head that way.
Emma arrived at the carport, and found her mother, accompanied by Rambler.
"Hey, Momma!" she shouted.
"What's happened? Is he—"
"He's awake. He wants to see you. And, Momma," she said, "he . . . he knows about Daddy."
By her expression, Shirley was relieved to hear it. Like Emma, it was something she'd been dreading having to do. "I just, I just don't know what to say. Good, I guess."
"Go to him. He's waiting on you."
As they parted ways, Emma felt a sudden craving for goat love—in particular, Ida Claire's. Those who weren't animal lovers would never understand how deeply that love could go. Since Stella was gone and Rambler's chosen companion was Shirley, Emma's heartache, it seemed, would have to be appeased by the goats' innocent nature.
Their ears perked up at the slamming of the gate behind her. As they galloped toward her, Emma regrettably backed herself into a corner. Most of the baby goats, appropriately called kids, began jumping up and pounding their hooves against her thighs, begging for a snack. Though Emma wasn't particularly alarmed by their behavior, she knew she needed to move.
Knocking away their hooves, Emma spotted Tina accompanied by Ida Claire, her newborn. Both Ida's and her mother's coloring were just as red as Emma's hair.
"Hey there, I
da Claire," Emma whispered, picking her up. "I sure did miss you."
With Griffin home, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. No one knew what the future held, but she felt as though the tribulations they'd endured were only the beginning—that the worry plaguing their inner beings wouldn't cease until they drew their last breaths.
As Emma held the bundle of cuteness to her chest, though, she felt the uneasiness lingering inside slowly drifting away. At that moment, she simply needed something pure to hold on to. Something that wouldn't ask what was troubling her. Ida was so soft and cuddly—the sweetest, most innocent being in the world. Nothing could put a smile on Emma's face quicker than holding a baby goat.
Some time later, having bid the goats farewell, Emma left them with a branch of hickory nut tree leaves. She needed time to be alone and think, so much so that she didn't return to Mrs. Maples's house until later that evening. When she arrived at the porch, Emma avoided the cold stares coming from Tom and Cooper on the swing as she sprinted up the steps.
Emma entered the house, and found Shelby and the girls playing with dolls while Mrs. Maples was taking care of her aloe vera plant in the corner. Passing by them, Emma gave them a smile and headed toward Shirley, who was wringing out cloths into a bucket in the kitchen.
"Gave him a bath," she said as Emma entered the kitchen. "Where've you been?"
"Tending to the goats," Emma replied, peeking inside Griffin's room. "He feel okay?"
"Oh, yeah. Loads better. Go talk to him. I'm sure he's needing some sister time."
Nodding in response, Emma eased herself through the door and was happy to find him wide awake.
"Hey, brother," she said, sitting on the bed. "How's it going?"
"Good, I guess." He sulked. "Where'd you run off to this morning?"
"The goats, they called to me."
"You know the saying, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger'? Not true," Griffin said. "Not true at all. I'm 'bout tuckered out."
"Me too."
"So who's the big guy?" he asked, raising a brow. "Dude looks familiar."
Nervously, Emma glanced toward the ceiling.
