The bus driver’s name was Eric, and he smelled like cologne and cigarettes all mixed up.
Atlanta. Her parents would meet her in Atlanta. She found her voice. “How much longer?”
“Five hours, darling.”
“Okay,” Emily said and closed her eyes, curling into the double seats, and under the eyes of a kind bus driver, she finally fell asleep.
* * *
Kate waited in front of a coffee shop in downtown Atlanta, a block from the Greyhound station. Cold seeped through her jacket. She grabbed mittens from her purse and pulled them on. A work crew was outside hanging Christmas lights and ten-foot wreaths on the streetlamps. Kate had never understood people who said, “Oh, this is my favorite time of the year.” For her, the holidays only brought expectations, sleeplessness, and money spent that she didn’t have.
Christmas seemed to her a frenetic and twinkly-light-filled attempt to ignore the fact that it was winter and cold and bleak. The holidays were a desperate grasp at something beautiful. And if she’d ever felt desperate, it was right at that moment as she stared toward the street waiting for Jack to appear.
She held a cup of coffee, the warmth sending smoke up to her face. She took a long sip, and shuddered against the searing heat. “Damn,” she said out loud.
“What’s wrong?” Jack’s voice asked.
Kate turned to face him and involuntarily, a muscle memory in response to his voice, she smiled. “So much is wrong.”
“Like?” He smiled in return, an answer to her own.
“The coffee burned and I have a horrid hangover.” She took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Our daughter ran off on a Greyhound bus and it’s freezing cold and I hate how holidays make me feel so behind on everything.”
“Anything else?” He laughed into the words.
“I think that about covers it. Okay, what time does the bus get in?”
“Thirty minutes.” He pulled her coat closer around her. “You’re shivering.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous cold out here and my South Carolina wardrobe isn’t exactly Patagonia worthy.”
“I love the way you say things,” he said and shook his head. “Even in the middle of a crisis, you have something cute to say.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Let’s walk to the station,” he said. “The parking lot is full because of the holiday.”
She nodded. “It’s only a block; I can handle it.”
They walked together, huddled against the cold as they passed a Baptist church, a stone fortress, strong against the wind. “This,” Kate pointed to the church, “reminds me of a church in Charleston.” She stopped, staring at the front doors, remembering a plea she’d once made to a painting of the perfect mother, Mary. “Emily must be so scared. She’s only thirteen. What was she thinking?”
“Guess she’s got your spunk. I remember a thirteen-year-old girl who stood up to Principal Proctor and didn’t care.”
“Oh, I cared. I was a good faker. But this? Running off on a bus? I’d never have been that brave.”
“I also remember a girl who ran off into the wilderness and wasn’t scared one little bit. Spunk. Yep. She got that from you.”
“Stupidity might be a better word.” They stopped at the entrance to the bus station, huddled together at the sidewalk’s edge.
“What did she get from me?” he asked. He spoke beneath his scarf and Kate pulled down on the wool to see his lips form into a smile.
“Hmmm…” Kate looked off to the sky where clouds floated like parodies, seemingly false imitations of what fluffy clouds should look like. “She got your kind eyes and sweet smile. She got your stubbornness.”
“I’m not stubborn,” he said and touched Kate’s nose. “At all.”
“Really?”
“No, but it seemed like something I should defend.”
“Being stubborn can be really good.”
“Like when?”
“When it’s time to do the right thing.”
He smiled and pulled his scarf up again as if he needed to hide his mouth. Kate shivered and glanced up the street. “Hurry, bus, hurry.”
Jack pulled her close and she buried her face into his parka, finding warmth. After a minute, diesel miasma filled the air and Kate peaked out to see the bus pull up. She let go of Jack and stepped closer to the edge of the curb not wanting Emily to wonder if she was alone. There was, Kate knew, a terrible twisting moment when you hoped for something and realized that the something wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t want this for Emily.
The bus doors opened with the swoosh of warm, stale air falling down the bus stairs and into Kate’s breath. The driver, dressed in a blue suit and hat, stood in the opening, blocking the view inside. He stepped down and then turned to hold out his hand to a girl who jumped from the top step to the curb in one leap, landing in Kate’s open arms. Sobs shook Emily’s tiny body and Kate wrapped not only her arms, but also her scarf and coat around her daughter. Then Jack’s warmth was around both of them, and they stood on the curb of the Greyhound station as one tight, round bun of comfort.
“I’m sorry.” Emily’s words were stuttered and damp. She looked up. Her face was pale and blotched with red circles; her copper curls scrunched behind her head and flattened against her left cheek. Her green eyes were circled with red, her eyelashes mashed into moist clumps.
“Shhh…” Kate said. “Let’s get somewhere warm.”
“Where’s your bag, honey?” Jack asked.
Emily pointed to the strap of her backpack. “This is it.”
Jack took each hand—Kate’s and Emily’s—and led them away from the bus stop. He then squatted down and looked directly into Emily’s greenest eyes. “You scared us so badly. Are you okay?”
“I am now. Yes, now I am. I’m sorry I scared you. My parents must be so mad. I didn’t know it would feel so bad. I didn’t know it would be so scary. I just didn’t know.” Emily dropped her head onto Jack’s shoulder, into the same soft spot where Kate had just rested.
“How could you know?” Jack asked.
“How about hot chocolate while we wait for your parents?” Kate asked, pointing toward the coffee shop a block away.
Emily nodded. “Are they going to kill me?”
“Unless kissing your whole face will kill you, I doubt it,” Jack said.
Wound tight together and bent low as one tree with many branches against the icy wind, they were passing the Baptist church when Emily stopped.
A crew of four men emerged from the church, lugging various figures that would add up to a nativity scene. They carried scraggly animals and then the half-limp hay. Mary and Joseph were carved of wood and weathered to a fine sheen. The manger and baby Jesus lay in the grass facedown with Jesus’ carved bottom faced toward the sky.
Emily stepped onto the grass and walked toward the crew until she stood in front of the wooden baby. The four men stopped, frozen as if they were carved wooden statues themselves. Emily bent down to pick up Jesus, her hands as gentle as if the baby were real. Then she turned the manger right side up and placed the figure inside.
Jack and Kate watched without saying a word, as if they were in church and their daughter had walked up to the altar for communion. Emily turned around and walked back. “Sorry,” she said, “I have a thing about manger scenes. I just can’t help it.”
“That was sweet,” Jack said.
A breath of ice blew across the yard. From the corner of her eye, Kate saw it—a feather winding across the nativity scene to land at their feet. It was large, red and brown, torn at one edge. Kate bent over, but when her fingers went to grab it, Emily’s hand covered the feather. Together, mother and daughter stood and laughed at their coordinated motions to fetch nature floating past.
“I kind of have a thing about feathers,” Emily said. “Nativity scenes and feathers.”
“Me too,” Kate said. “I collect them.”
“Weird. How do you collect nativity scenes?”
Emily asked. “Where do you keep them?”
Kate laughed. “Feathers. I collect feathers.” She glanced at Emily. “That’s a red-tailed hawk.”
Emily smiled. “That’s awesome that you know that.”
“Why do you love feathers so much?” Kate asked.
“Because of that one you gave me when I was born. The white one.”
“You have it?” Kate asked, her love lifting high, a wing.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just didn’t know if your mom gave it to you.”
Silence fell over them and in the warmth of mere words, no one noticed the cold. Then together they ran into the coffee shop and occupied a back booth. Jack had grown a beard, and Kate wanted to touch it, gather its warmth. He wound his gloved fingers through hers as they sat together.
Emily sat across from them and held her mitten-covered hands over her face. “That bus smelled really bad and now it’s on my favorite mittens.”
Kate smiled. “We can clean them.”
“I’ll never do anything like that again. Ever. I was mad and wasn’t thinking. I would never leave my parents. This was stupid.” She yanked off her mittens and pulled her hands through tangled hair.
“I have a present for you,” Jack said.
“Really?” Emily looked up and smiled.
“Yep, but nothing fancy.”
“I don’t care about fancy,” she said.
He reached into his coat pocket and yanked out a crumpled packet of Sour Patch Kids. “Here.” He handed her a packet that looked as if it had been put through the washing machine, wrinkled and faded.
Emily reached across the table and took the package from him. “Oh, thanks. These are my favorite. How’d you know?”
Jack just smiled. “I just knew. And I’ve had those for a very long time.”
Emily looked down at the candy and laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.”
Kate squeezed Jack’s hand.
He nodded and his eyes filled, and then just as quickly he turned away from Kate, looking at Emily. “We’re here for you, Emily. We are, but you can’t run away,” Jack said.
“I know.” She cast her gaze downward, avoiding their eyes. “I know. When the bus driver told me you’d be here, I was able to use my brain again. It’s just that I had this made-up life with you. Sailor and I used to make up all kinds of stories about you and I thought…”
“We all do stupid things when we’re mad,” Kate said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “We all do. But next time, just call.”
Emily looked first to Jack. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called all night?”
Jack pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the screen. “Em, I don’t have a single call from you.”
She lifted her own phone, flicked it open to the front screen and held it up to Jack, showing him the numerous calls.
He leaned forward and squinted. “That’s my work number. Oh, I am so sorry. I had no idea … it was Thanksgiving. I wasn’t there.…”
“I’m so stupid.” Emily dropped the phone onto the table.
“No … I should have given you my cell number. I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table for her hands, but she turned away.
Emily glanced between Jack and Kate and then the tears that had filled her eyes ran down her face. “I’m going to ask you something terrible. I know it’s rude that I’m asking, but…”
“What is it?” Kate asked, softly, prodding.
“Do you want me now? Would you take me if I asked?” Emily asked, her voice muffled.
Jack jumped from the booth, moving to Emily and sidling up next to her to wrap his arms around her. “I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Ever. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. But take you now, Emily? You’re not ours to take. You know that, don’t you?”
Emily looked up and nodded. Her face was mottled, dirty with a combination of Jack’s coat, bus grime, and tears mixing into a muddy wetness that covered her cheeks and ran down her chin. “Did you always love me?”
“Yes,” Jack answered. “Always yes.”
“But I’m a terrible secret, aren’t I?”
“No!” Kate measured her words as carefully as if the combination of letters were the keys to the secret of the universe, and to Emily they were. “We’ve been here. All along we’ve been here loving you.”
Emily looked up at Jack as if to verify the truth. He nodded, unable to speak.
Yes, Kate thought, this was the pain he’d wanted to avoid. Yes, this was what he’d meant when he’d told Kate to let it all go. He couldn’t bear to feel any of this again.
A real smile, the kind that reached all the way to her green eyes, came over Emily’s face. “Yes, I guess a call would have been the better thing.”
Jack stood up and for a breath-stopping moment, Kate thought he was leaving, that yes, this was all too, too much for him. Then he held out his hand. “I want to show you something.”
“Okay,” Emily wiped at her face.
“Stay here. I need to get my laptop out of the truck.”
“You carry your laptop around?”
“I was headed into work when I got the call. So hold on.”
“Do you know what he’s doing?” Emily asked.
Kate looked over her shoulder, watching Jack walk away. “Nope. But whatever it is, I’m sure it’s good. He’s always full of good.”
They grinned at one another—Emily and Kate—a conspiracy of almost identical smiles.
Jack returned and scooted next to Emily and patted the corner of the bench. “Here, Katie.” Then he gently placed his laptop on the table and opened it to the slight whir of a booting computer. He clicked a few times until a photo emerged on the screen. Large and vivid there was her name: LUNA in zinc letters, the A covered in a shaft of light.
“Oohh,” Emily said, an involuntary child’s voice of awe. “What is that?”
“Your name,” Jack said.
“Well, I know that. But where?”
Jack clicked on another photo and the same image emerged, but pulled backward to show the entire front of the studio on a brick-lined street in Birmingham. “It’s an art studio in Birmingham. It’s mine actually. A small studio for emerging artists.”
Emily stared at Jack like a child who was being read a fairy tale, wanting to believe its truth. Then she looked at Kate, who nodded. “Yes, it’s true.”
“It’s true? You named something after me?”
Jack smiled and pushed her hair back from her face. “Yes.”
Emily smiled at the photo, ran her finger along the screen. “I want to go there someday.”
“Of course, as long as your parents are okay with it.” And with that his phone dinged. He looked down “Speaking of … your parents are almost here.”
Emily nodded.
They consumed the remaining minutes as if they were a huge buffet containing all the food they’d ever wanted. Kate and Jack listened to Emily chatter about Sailor and Chaz; about hating reading, but loving stories; about her brothers being the most annoying creatures on earth; and about how she wanted to go home and sleep for days.
Elena and Larry burst through the door, worry covering their faces like a mask, Emily jumped up and buried herself into the folds of their coats, disappearing almost altogether.
“Parents.” Kate looked toward the three of them.
Elena came to sit in the booth. “I am so sorry to put you two through this. She’s never done anything like it. I was scared almost crazy.”
“Don’t say sorry,” Kate said. “We love her. It’s okay.”
“I know you’ll understand if we just leave now. Larry got us a hotel room and I think we all just need a good shower and some sleep.”
“Absolutely.” Jack stood.
The good-bye hugs were quick and efficient, and then the Jackson family was gone, daughter and parents together, leaving Jack and Kate alone.
“Is it terrible tha
t I wish her parents hadn’t shown up so quickly?” Kate asked.
“No, it’s not terrible,” Jack said. “I wish the same thing. But…”
Kate held her hand up. “I know there’s a but. There’s always a ‘but.’ You don’t need to say it, Jack.”
“You’re mad.”
“No,” Kate said. “Just sad.”
They paid the bill as the waitress took the empty coffee cups and hot chocolate mug. “I have to get back to Caleb. I threw him at Mimi Ann and she has to work.”
“She lives with you now?”
“No, I took him to her apartment. But I need to go get him.” He paused. “How was your Thanksgiving? I didn’t even ask.”
“It was good. I just drank a little bit too much champagne.” She paused. “And yours?”
“Fine,” he said and then stood and held out his hand for her to join him.
She shook her head. “No. I’m going to stay here for a little bit. It’s a long drive for me, so maybe I need some more coffee.”
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
“I’m sure I will be.” Then in one last hope-drenched request, she asked him. “Can’t you stay for a little while?”
“I can’t.” He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he seemed gone. “I just can’t. Caleb and all.”
She nodded without speaking. Words no longer changed anything at all.
twenty-six
BLUFFTON, SOUTH CAROLINA
2010
Rowan’s dark house was ominous instead of comforting, and in bed Kate pulled the blanket up to her neck. December had settled into South Carolina and into Kate’s bones. The opposite side of the bed was empty and it was two-thirty in the morning. Where the hell was Rowan? She’d called his cell phone ten times and it had gone to voice mail. He hadn’t said anything about staying out after their argument that night. He’d left to “walk it off.”
Kate had tried to focus on her life with the store and her friends and Rowan; with her family and her loft and the success of Mimsy. She’d avoided talk about Emily and Jack, but that night she’d spilled her hurt to Rowan, telling him that Emily was calling Jack and she hadn’t even known they talked.
And Then I Found You Page 18
