by Toler, B N
“I’m fine,” Mama croaked. “I want to take a shower.”
“After your fall, I thought we agreed baths only,” Connie argued.
I furrowed my brows. “When did you fall?”
“Shower a few months back. She hit her head, but she was fine,” Connie informed me. “Scared us more than anything. We decided baths would be better after that.”
I stared at Connie, my expression blank. “Glad someone informed me of all of this,” I said sarcastically.
“I just want to take a goddamned shower!” Mama yelled, her voice raspy. Everyone fell silent as we turned to her. She looked up, her gaze angry, tears brimming. “What does it matter at this point?” she bit out. “If I fall…it’ll all be over soon anyways. I want a shower.” Her voice broke over a sob with her last words.
Emotion choked me and I fought like hell not to break down. Watching her suffer was brutal. She had always been exceptional about keeping her composure. The summer her and my father had split was the only time I could remember ever seeing her off-balance.
Connie’s gaze met mine briefly before it dropped to the floor. She was only trying to do what was best for mama. She hadn’t meant to upset her.
“How about you let me help you shower,” I suggested, hoping it would appease everyone.
She nodded carefully in agreement and I helped her stand. Attempting to shift the focus Bea said, “Hey, Pep. You wanna unpack some of those boxes while we drink our coffee?”
I mouthed a thank you to Bea as I led my mother out of the kitchen. Bea smiled and winked, and I had to admit it was kind of nice having a sister.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so well. I’d spent hours in bed with Emalee, doing my best to wring every ounce of pleasure from her that I could. When she’d finally drifted off to sleep, I’d just stared at her, grateful she was in my arms.
Disappointment settled over me when I’d woken up and realized she’d left without saying goodbye. I told myself she just hadn’t wanted to wake me and wanted to get back to her mother, but for some reason that thought didn’t sit right. Had she sneaked out because she regretted what we did? Had I read it all wrong?
I had to see her. I had to look her in the eyes and know I hadn’t crossed a line. I’d never forgive myself if I had.
Pepper met me at the front door. “Hey, come on in,” she beamed as she led me into the living room. Boxes and bubble wrap were scattered about the room, along with stacks of clothes, shoes, and random things like curling irons. A blonde-haired woman wearing a worn t-shirt sat crossed-legged in front of a box she was rummaging through.
Pepper glanced between us awkwardly. “Uh…Bea this is Cole; Cole, Bea.”
I knew who Bea was the moment she lifted her chin and smiled at me. With the exception of eye and hair color, the resemblance was unmistakable, especially in the nose and chin.
“So you’re Cole Kepner,” she grinned knowingly.
“Guilty,” I raised my hand.
Her eyes danced up and down me. “I guess my sister has good taste in men after all,” she commented before taking a sip from her coffee mug.
“Sorry about the mess. We just started unpacking,” Pepper explained. “Em is helping her mom, but she should be down in a bit.”
“Anything I can help with?” I offered.
Pepper put her hands on her hips and glanced around the room before pointing at a larger box with FRAGILE written all over it. “Would you mind opening that one? Her guitar is probably in there.”
I quirked a brow. “I thought she already had her guitar.”
“That’s her stage guitar,” Pepper explained. “The one in the box is her song writing guitar.” She shrugged. “Em says it’s sentimental.”
“Whatever gets her inspired, right?” I opened the box and pulled the weathered black case from the abyss of packing peanuts it was submerged in. When I had it all the way out, I laid it on the couch and noticed the bumper sticker on the front. There’s No Place Like Kansas. Something about that particular sticker on a guitar case niggled at the back of my mind. Before I could sort out what, I unsnapped the locks and gently opened the case. The sight of the guitar laying inside had me taking an involuntary step back. I stared in disbelief as everything snapped into place. This was my mother’s guitar.
“Oh good, you got it out,” Pepper chirped as she stood beside me. “Em loves this guitar. I swear she’d run into a burning house for it.”
Joe had said he’d sold it on eBay. Could Emalee have just happened to find it? That would have been one hell of a coincidence. Maybe Joe had just given it to her, but kept it to himself thinking we’d be mad. I wanted to believe the latter scenario, but then why hadn’t Emalee mentioned it when we were talking about her red guitar. Also, if Joe had given her the guitar instead of selling it, where had he gotten the money that helped save our farm?
I drug a hand down my face as the various scenarios played out in my head. I needed to speak to Emalee and Joe. I needed answers.
Mama let her head hang forward, rinsing the conditioner out of her hair while I held her steady as we stood together in the shower. Connie had been right; Mama shouldn’t be taking showers anymore. She was so frail and weak she trembled from the exertion it took to stand so long. When I’d helped her undress, I could tell she was battling with her dignity. No one wanted to be sick with a body ravaged by cancer, needing her child, or anyone for that matter, to bathe herself. I wanted nothing more than to make her feel comfortable and safe, so I shucked my clothes right along with hers.
I’d shrugged. “I need a shower, too. It’s not like you haven’t seen all of me before anyways.”
I knew deep down she’d still been embarrassed, but she’d nodded and pointed to my chest. “It’s been a long time since mine looked like those,” she joked.
Getting her in and adjusting the temperature had taken a few minutes, but eventually she’d had decent footing and relaxed under the spray.
Conditioner gone, she raised her head and I slicked back what little of her hair that had grown back after her last round of chemo with my fingers. These little moments, when I was confronted by the evidence of just how long she’d been fighting, were the ones that made me angry. The last time we’d seen each other, she’d been wearing a wig, hiding what chemo had taken from her. I pushed the feeling down; getting upset wouldn’t change anything. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she slowly turned and faced me, a sorrowful smile capturing her features.
“Seems times have changed. It wasn’t long ago I was bathing you,” she mused.
I grabbed the bar of soap from the shelf and soaped up a wash cloth. “I guess it’s my turn to return the favor.”
As I lifted her arm and washed it, I could feel her eyes studying me. “Why are you so heavy, daughter?”
I didn’t meet her gaze. “There’s a lot of weight these days.”
“Aside from me dying and the news of your father…aren’t you happy with your life?”
I bought myself some time by washing her other arm. “Outside of those things, I have every reason to be. I’m healthy, I’m a famous singer—my dream came true. I have friends. Money. I have a lot to be grateful for.”
She grabbed my wrist, stopping me from washing her. “But are you happy, Emalee?”
I shrugged one shoulder, turning my gaze from her. “I feel awful saying this, but no.” Tears swam in my eyes. “All of my dreams came true, but now…it feels like I’ve lost so much.” A quiet sob broke loose from me. “You’re leaving me. Daddy is hiding and has let everyone down. And Cole…” I paused. How could I explain this?
“And Cole what?”
My body wracked as emotion took over me. “I did something. Something I think could make him not want to be with me. I want to tell him the truth, but it could cause problems with his family. He’s doing so well…I don’t want to mess things up for him, but I can’t be with him while I have this secret.”
At her gentle urging, I told her about Daddy trying
to bribe Cole, and how Joe and I had made an agreement.
“I broke my promise by coming back here,” I explained.
She briefly cupped my cheek with her hand, but her arm was too weak for her to hold it and she let it settle on my shoulder. “Those boys were really suffering then,” she said in retrospect. “I imagine poor Joe was desperate. No one could fault him for taking it.”
“I’d offered money to Cole, and he’d been so angry with me. I’d promised him I wouldn’t interfere, but I did anyway and then left, letting him believe he sent me away.”
“But, Emalee, he was so young. Age is the ultimate teacher; we only learn things from the years. I’m sure Cole would understand.”
My eyes met hers. “That summer was so special to me. What we’d shared was everything. I mean, my first hit song was inspired by him, and when I left…it hurt like hell, but it was still mine, ya know? That time…the memories. We would always have those beautiful memories. I’m too scared to tell him because if he hates me, if he turns away from me, all of that beauty will be tarnished.”
Mama sighed. “You know, when I found out your father’s secret, I felt so betrayed. I hated him. Here we were, so far into our lives together—a time when life should slow down, and you sit back with your partner and enjoy the calm—and this explosive secret comes out. I was angry for a long time. Bitter. Resentful.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “But eventually it faded, and now there’s enough room for other feelings; room to remember other things. Your father and I had some wonderful years. Cole might need time to process the truth, but he loves you. He will come around.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to mine. “Have you forgotten you are the sun, daughter?”
Her words exploded inside of my heart, weaving reality through me. She’d always been proud of my fierceness and tenacity, and for years I’d hidden that part of me.
“Life is hard on us all. No one goes without trials and tribulations. But you weren’t meant to hide behind ideas and images and fear, Emalee. You were meant to shine.” She kept her forehead pressed to mine as we wept. It was one of the most vulnerable and raw moments of my life, the two of us, naked, crying.
After our shower, I wrapped a towel around each of us and led her to her room. Connie took over helping her into a nightgown. As I shut her door, Pepper’s voice drifted up from downstairs.
“Em loves this guitar. I swear she’d run into a burning house for it.”
I narrowed my eyes as I moved closer to the stairs. Who was she talking to? A man said something I couldn’t make out and my eyes widened. Cole. I rushed down the steps as quietly as I could and peeked around the door frame into the living room, my heart thudding into the pit of my stomach.
Cole stood in front of our couch staring at the open case that held his mother’s guitar. I pulled back, gluing myself against the wall, letting out a long breath. This is why you don’t lie and keep secrets. The truth always finds a way to come out. I started running analytics, best- and worst-case scenarios in my head, making a plan as to how I would move through or around each one.
“Oh, there you are,” Bea said as she walked to the kitchen, stopping short when she saw me. “Your friend Cole is here.” She winked. “I think he wants to do a little more catching up.” She was trying to make a joke, but her humor was left dangling in the air as I did my best not to pass out. She’d spoken to me within earshot of Cole, so I couldn’t run to my room to buy more time to figure out what to do. Taking in my expression, her smile fell before she asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
I quickly shook my head before squeezing between her and the doorframe to enter the living room. Cole turned and met my gaze, his eyes mixed with speculation and confusion.
Pepper pulled her favorite pillow from a box and squeezed it. “Ugh, I’ve missed this pillow,” she sighed dreamily, completely oblivious to what was silently transpiring between Cole and me.
“Pepper was just telling me about how much you love this guitar,” he said gruffly, his green eyes doused with suspicion. “She said it’s sentimental. Just curious, why?”
My heart galloped in my chest, the beats whooshing in my ears. “Cole,” my voice trembled, and I had to clear my throat to gain my composure. “I can explain.”
I was shaking; I had no idea what he would do or say, and the thought of hurting him was crushing. He crossed his arms and pulled his shoulders back, his features tight.
“Okay. Explain.”
Pepper’s gaze darted between us. “Explain what?”
“Explain why Emalee has my mother’s guitar. The very one my brother supposedly sold, along with a bunch of other things of hers, years ago.”
I looked at Pepper and a slight indention formed on her forehead as she took in my expression. She could tell I was panicking.
“That’s Constance’s guitar?” she asked.
I licked my lips as I clutched my towel to my chest. Words, Emalee. Words. Speak. Explain. I searched for where to start, or how to begin, but it was like my brain couldn’t communicate with my mouth.
Cole dipped his chin and dropped his arms with a snort. “Okay, then I’ll go ask Joe.” I moved to reach for him, to stop him, but he dodged me and rushed outside.
“Cole!” I yelled, my voice cracking. He was already down the steps and heading to his truck when I pushed open the screen door and shouted for him again. When he climbed in his vehicle and slammed the door, I knew he wasn’t coming back. He was heading home to Joe, and I knew an angry Cole and a broody Joe wouldn’t be able to have a civilized conversation about this. “Wait, Cole! I can explain! Please don’t go.” I chased after him and was halfway to the truck when I saw something move from the corner of my eye. Halfway down the driveway was a man with a zoom lens on his camera pointing it directly at me, capturing the perfect shot. Alyssa Myers wearing nothing but a towel, screaming and crying as she chased a man. If Cole saw the reporter, he didn’t care enough to let up. He started the truck and hit the gas, making gravel fly as he sped off. “Shit,” I groaned as I hightailed it back toward the house, yanking the screen door open as flew back inside. Shit! Shit! Shit!
“What in the hell is going on, Emalee?” Pepper shrieked as I pushed past her and started grabbing clothes from the piles she’d just unpacked on the living room floor.
“I have to go to Cole’s,” I blurted as I dropped my towel, not caring if Pepper or Bea saw me naked and tugged a sweat shirt over my head.
“Okay let me get dressed, I’ll drive you,” she offered.
I threw a sweatshirt at her before tugging on a pair of yoga pants, not bothering to look for underwear. “I have to go now!” I demanded, my voice teetering between angry and anxious. Pepper pulled the sweatshirt on as Bea entered holding keys. “I’ll drive.”
I didn’t care who drove, the only thing that mattered was getting to the Kepners before Cole and Joe collided.
When I pulled in the driveway, Bailor was inspecting something behind the front tire of one of our tractors while Joe leaned in to see. No doubt something was broken and needed repair, as always on a farm. I slammed the truck door and they both looked my way, Bailor tilting his head as he took in my expression. Joe backed up his wheelchair and maneuvered so he could face me, a deep scowl on his face.
“Sold the guitar on eBay, yeah?” I exploded.
Joe’s scowl relaxed and his expression hardened as he dropped his gaze.
“Answer me!” I boomed as I stood over him.
“Cole, calm down,” Bailor said, putting a hand on my shoulder that I immediately knocked away.
“Looks like she already told you,” Joe surmised, his tone unapologetic.
I shook my head, clenching my fists, searching for patience. “She didn’t tell me shit. She had some of her stuff shipped here…Mom’s guitar was one of the things.”
Bailor narrowed his eyes as he digested what I’d said. “Mom’s guitar? Emalee has it?”
“Yeah, but how could that be if Joe sold it on eBay? Unless you w
ant to tell me she just happened to sign on to eBay at the same time you were selling it and bought it for several thousand dollars. Did she buy the other stuff that’s missing too? Mama’s jewelry?”
Joe scratched his beard. “No…the guitar was all she bought.”
Disbelief and anger pulsed through me.
“So you sold the guitar to Emalee?” Bailor clarified.
Joe dipped his head once.
“For how much, Joe?” he asked.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
Bailor’s head lurched forward as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Twenty thousand?” Bailor guffawed, his voice incredulous
“Jesus, Bailor, yes!” Joe snapped. “Twenty thousand.” He shimmied his wheel chair and attempted to roll away from us, but I jumped in front of him.
“Oh no, Joe,” I seethed. “You wanna tell me how that transaction transpired? Don’t give me any eBay bullshit, either.”
Joe’s inky eyes met mine as he bristled, his hands resting on the wheels of his chair, the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed. “The check her father tried to give you.”
I blinked, anger rushing through me and leaving behind a cold rush. “You cashed the check?” The disbelief I felt could not be missed. “When did this happen?”
“Emalee told me to cash it. I said no, but I took money from her. She took the guitar as payment.”
I stepped back. “Joe, how could you take that much money from her? Even giving her the guitar…how could you? It wasn’t even her money…” I couldn’t finish the sentence I was so overwhelmed with the feeling of betrayal.
“Desperation,” Joe responded.
“What does that mean?” Bailor demanded.
Joe’s face flushed red and he sprinted off toward the house, but we grabbed his chair and stopped him. “Tell us what the fuck happened, Joe!” I demanded.
“We were losing the farm!” he shouted pushing us away from him. “The crop didn’t pay enough to catch us up on the bills, buy new seed, and cover Mom’s funeral expenses. Hell, we owed Annie a shit ton of money, too!”
