by K L Finalley
CROSS YOUR HEART
An Emerson Novel
K L Finalley
This is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or to living persons alive or dead. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publishers except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
Published by Copper Penny Press
Copyright © 2016 K L Finalley
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 0692673237
ISBN-13: 978-0692673232
For ARIELLE, JACOB, and GANNON...
The fireworks that dance in your eyes light my soul…
CHAPTERS
CHAPTERS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY K L FINALLEY
Chapter 1
Jacqueline Emerson had been startled in the night. But, she would’ve denied it if anyone had asked; and, her denial would not have been a lie. She didn't know that her old self-defense methods were still in use. In her mind, the second Friday night in late September had been the same as any other Friday night in the last few months. She had left work on time, picked up Zoe Russell, her girlfriend's daughter, from her elementary school, and headed to her penthouse. In her story, she would have mentioned cooking dinner and helping Zoe with her homework. She would have told anyone who asked that dinner was served when Mallory Cummings, her girlfriend and Zoe's mother, joined them around six. After dessert, Zoe was ushered off to bath time while Jacqueline and Mallory cozied on the couch and watched the final game of the Tampa Bay Ray's season. To her, nothing was out of the ordinary. She would've explained that she had adapted to life with a girlfriend and a second grader; however, it wouldn't have been completely honest.
It was the sound of the bedroom door opening that disrupted Jacqueline's sleep, but she did not awaken. Her mind dispatched her senses to evaluate the situation. Having lived alone all of her adult life, it had not yet adjusted to the constant presence of others. Its alerts remained in place; in turn, her responses to those alerts remained in place. Her mind commanded her long, brown legs to be straightened beneath the warm, teal sheet. Then, it ordered that she relocate from her back onto her side to improve her hearing. Immediately, her ears began reporting sounds while her nose recorded any foreign scents. Even her mouth, which had dried in the night, began to fill with saliva as it might be called upon to speak, or worse, scream.
After all the data was gathered, her subconscious security system disengaged. It was not needed this early Saturday morning. While it had been fine-tuned over the last thirty-four years to guard and protect, in the past five months, it was being retooled to listen and observe. The sounds had been identified as that of pint-sized bare feet shuffling across the bedroom's laminate flooring. The scents captured by her nose were the smell of citrus shampoo. These details were the evidence her mind needed to end its investigation. Neither her home nor her body was under siege. The evidence proved that Zoe had opened the bedroom door and was in the room. And, she was of no threat to anything but Jacqueline's heart.
Yet, Jacqueline's mind wondered why Zoe had entered the room. Wanting more information, it was, then, that Jacqueline was calmly awakened. Complying with her mind's request, her eyes opened slowly. In the darkness of the room and without the aid of her Wayfarer glasses, she could see only the outline of a small face hovering over her own. In a voice that only existed after the witching hour, Jacqueline forced out, "Zoe? What's wrong, honey?"
As she rolled to her side, the height of the bed placed her face to face with the small person standing in bare feet beside her. Whispering, Zoe leaned forward and said, "Jax," a nickname that Mallory had given her and Zoe had adopted as well, "My stomach hurts."
Jacqueline furrowed her brow. In the last few months, she had encountered a number of childhood complaints, but she had not experienced a child's middle of the night stomach pain. She crept forward in the bed hoping not to awaken Mallory. Made uncomfortable by Jacqueline's change in position, Mallory rolled to her left side - away from Jacqueline, the door, and her daughter. Free from her, Jacqueline swung her legs from under the cozy sheet and sat upright in the bed. Zoe stepped back when she perceived what Jacqueline aimed to do. Once she was upright, the girl stepped between her legs. As she retrieved for her glasses from the nightstand, Zoe placed her head against Jacqueline's body. Trying to assess the situation, she asked, "Do you think you have to poop?" Zoe did not answer. Instead, she thrashed her head from side to side, as children often do. Jacqueline stroked her head and tried, "Do you think you need to throw up?" Again, there was no audible response from Zoe. However, this time, she swept her head up and, then, back down against Jacqueline's body. Jacqueline responded, "Oh," and snatched the young girl into her arms.
In a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, she darted from her bedside with Zoe. Racing from the bedroom, she closed the door behind her and headed across the dark penthouse to the main bathroom. In her haste, she never thought to enter her own bathroom, which sat unoccupied only a few yards away on the other side of the room. When they entered the main bathroom, the sensors perceived movement and the recessed lighting brought a natural, sunlit glow to the bathroom. The cold ceramic tile made Jacqueline curl her toes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror as she proceeded to the toilet closet, as Zoe called it. There was no time to cringe at the unsightly image of herself. She flung open the door that kept the toilet out of sight. Gently, she placed Zoe on the floor and stood behind her. Acting as Zoe's vomit coach, she placed her hands on her hips and said, "Okay, Zoe. We made it. You'll feel better if you just let it out."
Zoe leaned forward and clutched the toilet seat. For a few moments, they both stood quietly in the bathroom waiting. Jacqueline had begun to think that it may have been a false alarm. She wondered if young children were aware of the true signs of vomiting. She thought that she may need only to reassure the child and return her to bed. But, this thought was interrupted by the sound of a cough. It was a puny cough. Perplexed, Jacqueline thought she might be faking it. Before she could inquire, the hiccups began. Surprised by this turn of events, Jacqueline cocked her head. She started to snicker, but quickly, she stopped. She had never before encountered this progression of bodily responses. Curious, she folded her arms and leaned against the wall. The hiccups continued for some time. Sleepy, her mind drifted off, but her attention returned when the hiccups became belches. Jacqueline stood against the cold, cream colored wall in the toilet closet and watched as Zoe began to make awful faces and shake her head from side to side, as if an exorcism was underway. But, this was a sign she recognized. Finally, something signified an impending regurgitation. She returned to her post behind Zoe. Using one had as a ponytail holder and the other as a back massager, she presided over the small child awaiting the unwelcomed return of dinner. Then, the eruption began. She tried to comfort the girl by saying reassuring phrases li
ke, "It's almost over," and "It's going to be okay." Standing in that bathroom, she meant every word of what she said. She was more than willing to change places with Zoe. Her heart broke when the sounds of vomiting were no longer louder than the sounds of Zoe's sobbing. Jacqueline wanted to cry herself. Instead, she bent down beside Zoe and said, "Honey, I think it's all out now." Then, she bent forward and with a swoosh all the contents were sent downstairs and underground.
Once again, she leaned down and scooped Zoe up in her arms. They proceeded out of the toilet closet and into the bathroom. Holding her close, Jacqueline retrieved her wash cloth. Lying on the side of the whirlpool tub, it had not dried from being used hours earlier. She walked to the bathroom counter, which was perpendicular to the glass enclosed shower and tile pedestal on which the tub sat. She placed Zoe there next to the sink. The cold marble countertop caused a shiver to run through Zoe. Jacqueline could see it in her face. She leaned over and touched the panel to activate the sink lights. Tucking the girl's blond ringlets behind her ears, Jacqueline looked into Zoe's tear-stained face. Her blue eyes were brimming with misery rather than full of the mischief that normally filled them. Jacqueline began to warm the water. She said, "It's gonna be okay now, my big girl."
She stuck her hand into the water that had pooled in the sink to check its temperature. Making all the necessary adjustments to be certain the young girl was not placed under any additional duress, she checked and rechecked the water. Once it was at an acceptable temperature, she soaked Zoe's washcloth, rung it, and proceeded to clean her face and hairline. She smiled as a sad and silent Zoe started to show signs of a little smile emerging. She dipped the daisy-decorated toothbrush in the pool of warm water and applied a bit of toothpaste to it. "I think we should brush that taste out of your mouth. Okay?" Jacqueline said as she began to brush Zoe's teeth.
At almost eight, no one had brushed her teeth for her in years, but sitting in the bathroom in the middle of the night with Jacqueline, Zoe did not mention this fact. Jacqueline released the pool of water, so Zoe could emit the toothpaste-vomit combination from her mouth. Then, she passed her a cup of warm water and Zoe rinsed and spat a few times as Jacqueline noticed that the pink nightgown was speckled with things she didn't care to investigate. Once Zoe's feet were firmly back on the tile floor, Jacqueline helped her to remove it. Wanting to erase this entire episode, she thought of discarding the nightgown completely but feared that Mallory would not agree. Instead, she turned and flung it towards the hamper under the counter. When she returned her attention back to Zoe, she lunged into Jacqueline's waiting arms.
Wearing only panties that had the incorrect day of the week on them, Zoe began to tremble. Holding her close, Jacqueline hurried the cold child into the spare room that she had made her own. The room was dimly lit by the recessed lighting that should have turned off hours ago. Jacqueline walked to the dresser and removed a white t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. She sat Zoe upon the dresser and slipped the shorts as far up the girl's body as she could while she sat atop the furniture. Sensing what needed to be done, Zoe pressed against Jacqueline's back to lift herself into the air. Once suspended, Jacqueline pulled the shorts onto the girl's waist. Had the two been on ice the move would have garnered a roar of applause. In the absence of an audience, their dance went uncelebrated. Jacqueline stood upright as Zoe lifted her thin arms into the air. In a quick move, Jacqueline slid the t-shirt over her head. Now, dressed like twins, in t-shirts and cotton bottoms, Jacqueline delivered Zoe back to the cold queen sized bed where Zoe had begun her night.
Confident that Zoe had been tucked back into bed, she said, "I think the worst is over now. I'm sure that you still don't feel great, but I bet you'll be okay in the morning." Jacqueline smiled and stroked her sandy blond hair.
As Jacqueline leaned forward to kiss her forehead, Zoe spoke, "Lie down with me." Her little voice was scratchy from her throat's early morning endeavors.
Still standing over her, Jacqueline could not deny her. In fact, she did rarely. She knew it and Zoe knew it. As Jacqueline lifted the blanket and sheet, Zoe moved from the center of the bed. Bargaining, Jacqueline promised, "I'll stay until you doze off. Deal?"
"Deal," the girl said.
Jacqueline slid her brown form into bed. The mocha color of her skin was in distinct contrast to Zoe's rosy complexion, but that observation did not matter to either of them. Jacqueline folded her hands behind her head. All of this activity had energized her. She had enough adrenalin rushing through her veins that she considered turning on the flat screen television. Mounted on the wall facing the bed, it beckoned her attention, but, as quickly as that thought came to her, she rejected it. Instead, she became aware that Zoe needed to sleep some. She was uncertain how long she'd been awake alone before she came to rouse her. And, although this was the wee hours of Saturday morning and there would be no school, there was a birthday party and sleepover later that Zoe wanted to attend. One of the few things that Jacqueline had learned in these recent months of being a backup parent was that children cannot shake off fatigue.
Turning her eyes from the ceiling to Zoe, Jacqueline said, "Do you feel any better?"
"A little. It doesn't hurt as bad now."
Smiling at her, Jacqueline confirmed, "Yeah, things always get better once you get it out." Then, Jacqueline's mind thought of the things that might help. Ginger ale. Medicines. Cold compresses. She reached out and placed her hand on Zoe's forehead.
Zoe asked, "What was that for?"
"I just realized that I should've checked to see if you had a temperature. Maybe, this is more than just overeating. Maybe you're getting sick." While Zoe did not feel warm, Jacqueline thought that her hand was no true medical instrument. She thought how she had not known for certain if Zoe had a fever or not. Then, she realized that she did not even own a thermometer or any children's medicine. Hell, she didn't even have ginger ale.
As she was becoming increasing disappointed in her efforts to make her home a welcoming place for the most important people in her life, Zoe declared, "I'm pretty sure I don't have a fever."
"How do you know?"
"Cuz, a bunch of other stuff feels bad when you've got a fever." Zoe's voice was returning to its normal timber. She rolled into a small ball and placed her head upon Jacqueline's chest. As Zoe was snuggling closer to her, Jacqueline was making mental notes to go to the drugstore in the afternoon and purchase medications specific to the treatment of childhood ailments as well as a thermometer and, possibly, a humidifier. Then, without a thought, her left arm abandoned its post under her head and repositioned itself around Zoe's body.
Jacqueline cast her gaze around the bedroom. The furniture had been selected by an interior designer when she purchased the penthouse. The pieces selected for this room and the other spare bedroom were perfect for rooms without occupants. The designer had chosen articles that she said would pay homage to the West Indies. It contained a double dresser, nightstand, bench, and queen sized bed made of palm but decorated in a herringbone pattern of Lampakanay rope, native to the Philippines. Underneath the bed, a matching rope rug lay atop the cork flooring. The bed covers and linens were cream and tan with sheets that resembled bamboo patterns. Jacqueline never mentioned to the designed that Lampakanay rope and bamboo were not native to the West Indies. She realized that the room was well-decorated as the spare room for a single person inhabiting a bayfront penthouse. At the time, the room felt very international. Now, the thought was laughable. Lying in it, with a sick seven-year-old, Jacqueline realized how out of sync it was.
Months ago, when Jacqueline and Mallory were no more than friends and colleagues, Jacqueline had offered to babysit Zoe on those occasional evenings when Mallory had to work late or attend business events. Soon, she discovered that, occasionally, a room was needed for the girl to complete her homework, watch television, or sleep. Hoping to make her feel at ease, Jacqueline did not select a room for her. Instead, she had allowed the girl to make her own choice. Of
course, this room, with its floor to ceiling windows that overlooked Tampa Bay, was chosen. As the Earth rotated about the Sun, the room was ablaze with crimson, scarlet, pumpkin, and salamander rays of light. The visual display was stunning. Despite all of its great features, it had become the part-time bedroom of a second grader and it felt wrong.
Glancing around, Jacqueline said, "Maybe we should see about getting you a new bed set or something."
"A new bed set?" Zoe muttered. She had started to doze off, but the sudden conversation had stirred her.
"Yeah, this room is too mature for you. Maybe, we should redecorate it with something you'd like. A cartoon character or princess stuff or something."
Yawning, Zoe reminded her, "Jax, I'm almost eight."
"Oh yeah. The grown-up age of eight."
"Eight year olds don't have princess bedrooms."
"What do eight-year olds have?"
"Beach stuff."
"Beach stuff?" Jacqueline repeated. She was not sure how to decorate for that. She thought of blue walls. She thought of installing curtains to match that theme. "I guess this bed could still work with that kinda theme. This is tropical."
"Uh huh,” Zoe agreed.
"Maybe, we should take out that bench and find the twin size model of this bed." Jacqueline continued to think aloud.
Cognizant enough to disagree, Zoe rebuked, "I don't want another small bed. I'm big now."
"Twin size beds are what kids sleep in," Jacqueline responded with authority. "I had one until I got my own place. You even sleep in a twin bed in college."
"Not me. I like this one. It's soft. And...and Abbie was so jealous when she saw that I had this big bed and a TV on the wall. She said my room was better than her mom and dad's room." Abigail Goto was Zoe's schoolmate, a fellow Sunshine Girl cheerleader, and a member of her Girl Scout troop. If asked, Zoe would say that they had been best friends since they were little. In truth, it had been about two years of sleepovers, theme parks, skating, birthday parties, and camping trips. A few weeks ago, Abbie and Zoe had had a sleepover. While Mallory and Jacqueline agreed that the girls would sleep at Mallory's house, the four had to make a trip to the penthouse to retrieve Jacqueline's picnic basket on their way to the beach. While cleaning and loading the basket, the girls ran about the penthouse. Zoe was excited to show Abbie everything from the closets, to the lights, to the bathroom, to the anteroom. Mallory had denied them the chance to venture onto the wraparound balcony that Zoe loved, but every other inch had been explored that afternoon.
