by Camille Eide
He muttered something.
“Emily thought it would be good to spend some time with you,” Ian said quietly.
Dad spun around and stared at Ian. His body trembled, and for the first time since they’d arrived, his face twisted with emotion. “Were you at your wife’s side every day, down to her last breath? Did you watch her die?”
Emily’s pulse raced. “Dad, that’s enough—”
“As much as ... as I was allowed.” Ian’s face went rigid.
“And did spending all that time with her help?” Dad’s voice fell to a hot whisper. “Did it make you happier when she died?”
“Dad!” Emily gasped.
Ian stiffened. “No happier than you were, I suppose.” The sound of his quickened breathing filled the tense silence.
“I know why you’re here,” Dad said, his voice low. “But I don’t need your help. And I don’t need your parenting advice, since you’ve never been a father.”
A wave of queasiness rolled up from Emily’s gut. Oh, Lord, what was I thinking, bringing Ian here? What have I done? She went to Ian’s side and laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, Ian. Let’s go.”
Ian didn’t take his eyes off her dad. His brow pulled into a deep frown. “Aye, you’re right, Ray. I don’t know what it’s like to be a father. But I do know having family who loves you is a rare gift. Only a fool would waste it.”
Emily held her breath.
Dad stepped away from the window. For the first time, his full attention rested on Emily. Pain crept over his face. Then, going rigid again, he turned to Ian. “My family is my business, MacLean. Your business is far from here. The sooner you get back to it, the better.”
“Your family?” Emily croaked. “Are we a family, Dad?”
Dad stiffened briefly, then shook his head and stormed out of the room.
No? And why not? Because she gave up fighting on my account? Because you wish ...
A familiar pain tore through her, ripping open the same old scar. Emily closed her eyes and willed the tears to stay back. Dad was a deeply broken, grief-stricken man. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d lost the ability to care about anyone, including himself.
“Emily?”
When she opened her eyes, Ian stood near, his face a mask of strain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
She shook her head, bringing up tears in spite of her best efforts to quell them. “It’s not you. Let’s just go. I’ll call him later—”
Dad reappeared, locked his sights on Ian, and headed straight for him.
Ian braced himself and looked at him head on.
Emily couldn’t move. Oh no, God, no, please ...
Dad came face to face with Ian. “You leave the States tomorrow?”
“Aye.”
“Good. You’re only wasting your time here.”
As they faced off in the crackling silence, Emily sensed something unspoken passing between the two men.
“We’re leaving now, Dad.”
In three quick strides, Dad was at the door. He held it open.
Ian and Emily followed.
At the threshold, Emily glanced at her dad, hoping for something, though she didn’t know what.
He drew back, and as soon as they passed through, the door slammed.
By the time they returned to the main road and headed east, Ian’s pulse had returned to nearly normal. The traffic on these long, straight stretches of high desert road was nothing but a passing car now and then. After they reached Juniper Valley, he could grab a few hours of sleep before his long drive to the airport.
If he could sleep.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I shouldn’t have taken you there.” Emily’s voice sounded tight.
“You did warn me.” Though ‘not very friendly’ may have been a slight understatement. “And don’t apologize. You’re not responsible for him.”
She stared at the road with a dazed look.
“Has he always been like that?”
“No.”
Ian tried to imagine Ray Chapman smiling with an arm resting round his daughter’s shoulders but couldn’t picture it. “When did he change?”
A long silence. “A little while after Mom died.”
Grief did strange things to a man, but it didn’t explain Ray’s behavior toward Emily.
She stared into the dark, but there was little to see.
Perhaps they shouldn’t have stopped at her dad’s. Since losing Katy, Ian found himself challenging things that kept people apart. Especially stupid, senseless things. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe being with people didn’t always fix what was broken.
“He’ll see what he’s doing to himself and to you, eventually.”
“I used to believe that. I used to hope God could help him, but now ... I don’t know.”
Aye. God can only help a man who isn’t beyond help. Some things are too dark. Some roots twist down too deep.
Another quiet mile passed with no sign of another car.
The silence tugged at his chest. “Are you sorry we stopped?”
She shook her head. “No matter what he does, he’s still my father, and I love him. I’m just sorry that seeing me bothers him so much.”
“Emily, it’s not you, I’m sure it’s—”
“You saw him, Ian. He can barely look at me.” She turned away.
The way she held herself, so stiff and straight, reminded him of the last soldier left on the field, bracing to finish the battle alone. How could a man treat his own daughter that way? She didn’t deserve it. In fact, Ray didn’t deserve her. Heat seared his veins. “Whatever the reason, it’s his choice. He’ll regret it.”
She faced him. “Are you sure he has a choice?” The glitter in her eyes took on a neon green from the dash lights. “I don’t think so. Do you know why he can’t stand to see me? I tried to tell myself it was because I remind him of her.” She yanked the claw-toothed thing from her twisted-up hair and shook her head, letting the silky waves tumble loose round her shoulders. “But that’s not it. He hates me because she’s gone and I’m still here. He wishes it had been me instead of her.”
Idiot! He smacked the steering wheel hard enough to make his palm sting. Ray Chapman had already broken Emily’s heart once, and Ian had just handed her over so he could do it again.
He whipped the Jeep to the edge of the road, spraying gravel into the ditch. Adrenaline surging, he killed the motor and turned to face her. “This is all wrong.”
With trembling fingers, Emily unlatched her seat belt. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.” She scrambled out of the Jeep. “I need some air. Give me a minute.”
Emily trudged along the silent road, sandals slapping the asphalt. There wasn’t a car or house in sight, nowhere for her to go.
When she’d gone several metres from the Jeep, he jumped out and jogged toward her. “Emily.”
She kept going.
He reached her, caught her arm, and turned her round. “Emily, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you go there.”
Her face was pale in the milky moonlight. “You didn’t. It was my choice to see him. And I knew what to expect.” Her glistening eyes pleaded. “Ian, it’s okay.”
“Okay?” Ian caught a sharp breath, stunned. A man shouldn’t be excused for wounding others in such a callous, selfish way. A familiar band of fury tightened round his heart, gripping him in its monstrous claw. But the pain in her face gripped him harder. He steadied the thunder in his voice. “No. It’s not okay.”
She offered a teary little smile and gave his hand a squeeze.
The courage and grace in those eyes clutched his chest so tightly he could hardly breathe. Fix it, MacLean. Do something.
“Maybe we could pray,” she said.
“Sorry?”
“For my dad.”
It took playing her words back a few times before he understood what she wanted. “Right, then.”
She took his hands.
He closed his eyes and a
moment of quiet passed. Oh. She wanted him to do it. What was he supposed to say? How could he pray for the wretched man when he hardly knew how to pray for himself? He cleared his throat. “God, please help Ray not to be such a ... uh ...”
Do it right.
A growl escaped as he exhaled. “Please help Ray get over whatever makes him this way.” He swallowed to loosen the anger that threatened to choke him. “I pray he won’t have to live with the torment of knowing what he threw away. He’s missing out on spending time with someone who loves him very much. Help him see what a priceless gift that is.”
A few warm droplets splashed onto their clasped hands.
He drew a deep breath. “And please help Emily know how much You love her. With the sort of love that never grows cold.” He had no idea where those words came from, but, somehow, they were right. “Give her peace. Help her feel Your arms round her. In Christ’s name, amen.”
Without another thought, he pulled her into his arms.
She was in Ian’s embrace. And he wasn’t letting go.
She closed her eyes and relaxed, savoring the weight of his arms surrounding her.
Ian pulled her closer, held her tight. His heart pounded against her cheek like a caged wild thing.
Numbed by such tender strength, she soaked up his warmth, felt it radiate through her. She’d not been held this way for quite some time and it felt so good, so right.
Like an exile being welcomed home.
I could stay here forever ...
Emily lifted her face. Ian’s dark eyes blazed into hers. Without thinking, she whispered his name.
His gaze fell to her mouth, sending a tingle through her lips as though they’d been touched. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
As he lowered his face to hers, she could barely breathe. His warm breath bathed her lips, sending her heart racing as he came closer.
Then, without warning, Ian let her go like a hot iron and stumbled several steps back.
Emily staggered to steady herself.
Plowing a hand through his hair, Ian scowled at the ground. “Let’s get you home,” he said, his voice tight.
The remaining miles ticked by like a silent countdown clock. Though they’d been on the road nearly an hour, she could still feel the impression of his enveloping arms. That roadside embrace had left her dazed. Not only because of the way he’d pulled her close and held her, but also because of the intense craving it had stirred in Emily. Regardless of what his intentions had been, she would have kissed him. Caught up in the pure bliss of the moment like a starved stray, she’d forgotten herself. She was too sensitive, too vulnerable. She would have to be more careful in the future.
Whatever that was at the side of the road, it definitely wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t.
They reached Emily’s house a little after 11:00 p.m. Ian followed Emily to the door, started to speak, but stopped. A thick silence hung between them.
As they stood on the porch, a warm desert breeze rose and fell in gentle gusts, brushing strands of hair lightly across Emily’s face, but the storm brewing in Ian’s dark eyes captured her full attention.
She trembled and drew a shaky breath. “Doesn’t look like you’ll get much sleep.”
“I’ll catch up.” He examined a chip on the wooden porch post. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.” He frowned as soon as he said it.
“Neither did I.” Her cheeks burned, but in the dark, maybe he wouldn’t see. “Will you do me a favor and call when you get home? So we know you made it okay?”
He nodded.
“I’m part lifeguard, part worrywart. Can’t help it.” She offered a light smile.
His eyes fell to her mouth and lingered, then he looked away.
Did he know what she was thinking? What would he say if she told him she’d never been kissed? No, Em. Don’t. Her heart thumped so hard he could probably hear it.
Ian faced her again, his eyes dark as a hurricane. “Emily, when we stopped on the side of the road, when I—”
She sucked in a sharp breath, chest hammering.
He looked out over the dark valley. “I want to apologize. That should never have happened.”
Right, I agree. Yet the grim set of his profile sent her heart plunging to her stomach. Her gaze fell to the wooden slats between their feet as she fought the tightness in her throat. She lifted her head. “There’s no need to apologize, Ian. I’m not—”
His grim look had deepened to one of anger.
Why?
The visit with her dad had left her feeling broken, probably sending off distress vibes. Ian had responded to that by reflex. Against his will.
I messed up. The thought zapped across her nerves, numbing her.
Ian cast a brief look in her direction but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Good-bye.” Without another word, he thundered down the steps and stormed to his car, feet pounding the packed dirt.
The car’s engine roared to life. Spitting sand and dust, the Honda tore out of the drive.
She fumbled with her house key and barely made it inside before the dam burst.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Emily awoke fighting a sea of blankets and gasping for air, heart pounding.
In her dream, the ocean had risen and a gigantic wave had crashed down on her and Ian as they walked on the beach, trapping them beneath tons of water.
By the time she calmed down, all hope of sleep had vanished. She lay awake for hours, in spite of dizzying fatigue. Had she imagined everything? She went over the weekend in her mind again, remembering her promise to Aunt Grace, the visit with Dad, the time she’d spent with Ian. Every word, every gesture.
And being in his arms ... and nearly kissing him ...
No way had she imagined that. Or how the embrace had upset him. Had she brought it on?
Emily groaned. Whatever the cause, it was over and done. She couldn’t undo it. She tried to go back to sleep, but the dull ache in her chest wouldn’t leave. In the predawn hours, when she realized she hadn’t prayed about any of it, she did her best to leave it in God’s hands. Peace finally came and she fell asleep.
And overslept, making her late for work. Luckily, it was her first time and Sue Quinn didn’t hold it against her.
The rest of her workday passed without too much teen drama, giving Emily a chance to refocus, to think about the Juniper Ranch kids and get her mind off things she couldn’t fix. When Sue had a free moment, Emily asked about taking a few weeks off to take Grace to Scotland. After work, she raced home and dove into an online search for airfare, thankful to have the house to herself.
Until Jaye showed up at the door. “You are home. Bummer. I thought you eloped.” Jaye had an imagination bigger than her entire class of kindergarteners combined. And just as prone to earn someone a time-out.
Emily moved aside to let her in. “Really. That’s what you thought?”
Jaye blew into the house and headed for the kitchen. “You never called back. What was I supposed to think?” She plopped her bag on the table and pushed her bangs to the side. “I was in total agony all weekend. So? What happened?”
Much had happened. Too much.
Jaye hopped up on the counter and snatched one of Grace’s lemon cookies from the jar. “Spill it, chica.” Eyes wide, she nibbled the cookie like a gerbil. “Tell me everything about Ian MacLean.”
Warmth spread through Emily at the mention of Ian’s name, especially the way Jaye said it. Spinning away from Jaye’s scrutinizing gaze, Emily grabbed a couple of Cokes from the fridge and did her best to recount the weekend in spite of Jaye’s frequent interjections. She got as far as the roadside embrace.
“Oh, man! I knew it. Did you kiss him?” Jaye let off a squeal. “I bet Scottish guys kiss different from Americans, right?”
Frowning, Emily focused on the wall calendar. She reached up and changed the month to June. “I wouldn’t know, remember? And no, I didn’t.”
“Oh, right. Saving that first kiss for you
r husband. Which doesn’t make sense since you’re never getting married. Or ... has that changed now?”
Emily stared at the calendar without seeing it. She and her mom had discussed this at length before Emily started high school. Her heart was so sensitive she could become deeply attached to someone by something as simple as a kiss. She’d decided to save that kind of bond for one man.
But that had been a different life, a different time. A hopeful time of dreams before a dark suspicion shadowed her future.
She scanned the dates on the wall for things that might interfere with the Scotland trip. June or July? Their departure date depended on how long it took to get a passport.
“Well?”
“Some people just aren’t cut out for marriage, Jaye.”
“Right. But those people aren’t up for discussion now. Look, check this out.” Jaye hopped off the counter, pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and flipped it around to show Emily. “Yum. Who needs Johnny Depp when you have this?”
Against her better judgment, Emily leaned closer for a better look. A slanted, off-centered picture of Ian with an amused smile sent a tingle through her. The photo didn’t capture the playful sparkle in his eyes, but she filled that in from memory—no problem.
“See? Didn’t I tell you? You just needed to meet the right guy.”
Emily resumed her scrutiny of the calendar. “Sorry, Jaye. He’s not mine. And I couldn’t have him even if I wanted him.” Trying to keep her voice from breaking, she described how angry Ian was when he left.
“Wait—he was mad? Seriously? It was just a hug. I mean, it was just a hug, right?”
“I don’t know, Jaye. I don’t know what it was.” Yes, I do. It was amazing. Intense and tender and amazing.
The numbers and squares on the calendar blurred as she traveled back to that moment beside the road. She shook off the memory and downed the last of her Coke. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Has he called?”
“No, he’s flying to Scotland now. He promised to call when he lands in Glasgow tomorrow morning.”
Jaye grinned. “Awww, yeah.”
“I asked him to call and let us know he arrived okay.”
