by JB Lynn
Emily turned her hand over to look at the scar. He’d held her hand once. Her lungs stopped working as she remembered.
Sixteen-year-old Emily held her breath as she shoved at the crawl-space doors overhead. Miraculously they opened upward and outward.
Half-crawling, she dragged her bruised body out of the basement hell and staggered outside. Blinking against the bright sunshine, she greedily gulped in the fresh air, tasting freedom. She’d made it!
She didn’t even feel him grab her ankle. She didn’t even have time to put out her hands to protect herself when he yanked at her from below. Yelping, she crashed face-first into the dirt. The impact forced the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh. He’d caught her.
“You’re not going anywhere, Emily.” His voice was distorted by the hideous latex clown mask that hid his face.
Gasping for breath, she felt dread sweep through her. Icy cold, it pooled between her shoulder blades, paralyzing her as he slowly dragged her back toward the dank shadows. Whimpering like a trapped and injured animal, she was powerless to stop him. She knew she was never going to escape. She was never going to see her mom or dad or her baby sister Laurie ever again. She was never going to finish growing up. It was so not fair.
Then it came to her, the mantra she’d instilled in herself over the past days. I am not going to die. I am not going to die. The mantra triggered a rush of adrenaline. Freed from her paralysis, she burst into action, fighting back. In a wild frenzy of movement, she twisted and writhed trying to escape the grip locked on her ankle. She clawed at the ground, in an effort to slow her descent back into the hellhole.
“I am not going to die,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
Still she slid relentlessly backward.
“I am not going to die!” The shouted words burned her throat, tearing at the tender flesh, but they were loud, strong. “I am not going to die!”
She kicked at him with her free foot. The blow glanced harmlessly off him. She kicked again, connecting solidly with his chest. Searing pain raced up her leg, but his hold on her loosened. Frantically she scrambled for leverage. Driven by her basest survival instinct, she ignored the pain and kicked at him again with everything she had.
She registered a crunching sound but didn’t know whether it was her body or his crumbling under the onslaught.
She felt no pain, only fear.
But then she wasn’t alone. A shadow loomed, and then a face appeared above her, a familiar face, but in her panic she didn’t recognize him at first. All she recognized was that he was there to save her.
The adolescent boy wasn’t much bigger or stronger than her, and the terror she felt was reflected on his face. Inches away from her, he froze, paralyzed by the horror he faced.
Below her, the monster latched on to her leg again and tugged, dragging her down.
“Help me,” she pleaded weakly, knowing with certainty that he was her very last chance to escape. To live.
Her words broke the spell that had kept the boy from reaching for her. He dropped to his knees and grabbed her hand. The monster below her pulled. Her bloody palm slipped through the boy’s hands and she slid backward, beyond his grasp, inexorably back into the hellhole. She clawed at the ground, desperate to stop her descent.
The boy turned away, abandoning her.
“Please!” Her pitiful wail was drowned out by the victorious grunt of the man below her, knowing he had the upper hand in the tug-of-war over her.
The boy disappeared from sight. She almost gave up then. It would have been easier. There was no point in resisting. The masked man had won. All was lost. But still she fought back, frantically squirming and writhing in the dirt.
She didn’t even see the boy return. She never saw the rock he held. All she knew was the stinging pain that radiated through her ankle in waves, each more painful than the last. The boy was smashing the rock against the monster’s grip on her, bruising both the kidnapper’s fingers and her ankle. The boy was breaking their skin, mingling their blood. Both she and the man howled their pain, but the boy did not let up on his assault.
Then she was free. The hand no longer imprisoned her.
Dropping his rock, the boy grabbed her hands. Dragging her body away from the basement, oblivious to the pain he was causing, Evan Swann promised her that she would be okay. Even as her beaten body bounced over the hard earth, she knew it was a lie. Still, Emily forgave him. After all, he’d saved her.
Footsteps in the hallway yanked her out of the memory. She did her best to control her ragged breathing and hide her trembling hands. There was nothing she could do about her hammering heart.
“That was Ginny.” Mark seemed oblivious to her distress as he brought in another carafe and a crystal bowl overflowing with tea bags. “I’ll go get you some fruit salad.”
“I don’t—”
“We don’t want you coming down with scurvy.”
Emily smiled as he left the room. His warning was familiar and, as such, comforting. Every breakfast she’d ever eaten in this house had been accompanied by a scurvy warning.
“Ginny said to tell you that she’s picking up Laurie and bringing her here,” he shouted from the hall as he walked toward the kitchen.
Emily’s smile wavered, before collapsing completely.
Laurie.
Pigtails, giggles, an imaginary dog and a near-addiction to catsup.
What would she say to her? What would she do with her? What kind of greeting would she receive? Laurie probably hated her. Not that Emily could blame her. She had abandoned her, leaving behind not just Lakeside Acres, but her little sister.
At the time it had seemed like the only option. She’d gone off to college and never came back, not even for visits. Her mother had brought Laurie to see her three or four times per year. Never for holidays, those Emily had spent alone. She was always giving Laurie her gifts months late.
Since their mother’s death two years earlier, Emily hadn’t even done that. She’d purchased gifts for the sibling she hardly knew. Wrapped in pink-and-purple paper, they were neatly stacked in her coat closet at home. She bought them, but had never sent them, knowing she couldn’t bear it if they were returned unopened.
Guilt over her treatment of Bailey, combined with her anxiety about seeing her sister again, had her feeling sick to her stomach. Picking up the still-warm muffin, she forced herself to take a bite even though she was no longer hungry. She had no idea how she’d get down an entire breakfast, let alone how she was going to get through this day.
Chapter 5
Bailey swore, as he cut himself shaving.
He put his razor down, leaned forward and stared at his reflection, ignoring the red droplet blooming on his chin.
He’d done many stupid things in his life. He’d done many things he wasn’t proud of. There were a lot of things he wished he could get a chance to do again, do differently.
When they were kids, he and Emily had been fond of declaring “do over!” wiping the slate clean and getting a chance to get something right. He wondered if she’d let him do that again.
Kissing her last night had been a mistake. A very big mistake. For one thing he was pretty sure he’d been drunk. There was no other explanation as to why he’d force himself on her like that. For another he’d been upset. He’d already been distraught over his dad’s death, but seeing Emily’s smashed-up car, he’d thought something equally horrible had happened to her.
And then she’d threatened to take his head off with a stick, and she’d been just so damn sexy doing it. He’d had to leave her in the car with Williams just so that he could get control of himself.
A control that had been short-lived considering the way he’d grabbed her at The Garden Gate.
He shook his head in disgust. “Way to go, Bay.”
He’d spent the past two years hoping to get the chance to kiss Emily again, and as soon as the opportunity arose, he’d botched it.
Maybe that was for the best. After
all, her life was in Manhattan and his was here.
When they were kids, and too young to understand such things, he might have said that Emily Wright was his soul mate. They laughed at the same jokes, had similar tastes and values, and each possessed the uncanny ability to understand the other, even when nothing was said. It had been unfair of him, but he’d spent his adult life trying to find someone who made him feel the way Emily had…still did.
Part of him still wanted to believe they shared that magical connection. He even hoped that, despite the ways their lives had diverged, they could find a way to be together.
He knew from Mark Castle that she was a partner in a successful advertising firm. She’d worked hard to build a professional reputation in the cutthroat city, while he had given up a career that would have had him far away from Lakeside Acres. She was cut off from her family, while he’d been willing to sacrifice for his.
Who was he kidding? Things would never work out between him and Emily. The most he could hope for was that her visit to town would help him to get her out of his system.
Determined to get over Emily once and for all, he picked up his razor and resumed shaving. There were no “do overs” in real life.
Emily’s survival instinct kicked in and she devoured all the food Mark Castle put in front of her. While she ate, he did his best to catch her up on every bit of news that had occurred in Lakeside Acres over the past two years. Not much had changed. The town council was still arguing about whether to allow a big fast-food restaurant chain to open a franchise in town; Zany Zelda, the waitress down at the Lakeside Diner, was still the craziest person around, insisting she saw people who weren’t really there, and just last week, as had happened every month for as long as Emily could remember, Eugene Ridgeway had gotten into a bar fight at The Golden Goose.
While Mark took her dishes into the kitchen, Emily retreated to the Primrose Suite to brush her teeth. As she approached the room, she could see a vase, overflowing with white roses and baby’s breath, on the floor outside her door. They were beautiful, but they reminded her of an arrangement she’d seen at her mother’s funeral.
Looking up and down the hall, she searched for whoever had delivered them, but no one was in sight. Shrugging, she bent to pick up the card that had been tucked into the arrangement. Pulling it from the unmarked envelope, she read aloud, “‘WELCOME HOME EMILY.’”
The card was typed and unsigned. She did her best to ignore the butterflies that sprang to life in her belly. Maybe the florist had just forgotten to sign the sender’s name. She turned over both the card and the envelope, searching for a clue of where they’d come from, but she couldn’t find any identifying information. Her gut told her that receiving flowers from an anonymous person was creepy, but she did her best to ignore the trepidation.
“You’re overreacting again,” she muttered to herself. Picking up the vase, she unlocked the door and stepped into the Primrose Suite.
A quick scan of the room revealed that everything was just the way she’d left it. She looked around for a place to put the vase, not wanting to damage any of the suite’s antique furnishings. “What I wouldn’t give for a coaster.”
That stopped her in her tracks. For the first time in her life she was pretty sure she had channeled her mother. Her mother, always with a coffee cup in hand, would walk around the house muttering, “What I wouldn’t give for a coaster.” It was something Emily had always sworn she wouldn’t do. There were no less than two dozen coasters scattered throughout her one-bedroom apartment. Now, the mere act of returning home had her morphing into Mom.
Unsettled by the thought, she put the flowers down on the sink where it wouldn’t matter if a water ring formed. Fingering the soft petals of one of the buds absentmindedly, she wondered what her mother would do in her situation. No doubt, she’d pretend. She’d pretend that nothing was wrong, that everything was great. She’d flutter around with a bright smile and a laugh that never quite rang true, spouting clichés about making lemonade.
Emily grit her teeth as old resentments bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, she remembered that living in the past was a waste of energy. She had to focus on now, and what the hell she was going to do in the very near future. The first order of business would have to be getting around Lakeside Acres. Maybe Mark Castle would let her borrow his car. After all, he’d been the one who taught her to drive. Hadn’t he always said she was an excellent driver?
Yes, but that was before you crashed your own car.
Leaving the bouquet in the bathroom, she went in search of the Bed & Breakfast’s proprietor. Mark’s laughter seemed to be coming from the breakfast nook, so she made a beeline for the sunny room.
“There she is,” Mark boomed as soon as she’d rounded the corner.
“Emily!” Ginny, with the same twinkling smile she’d always had, hugged her warmly. Emily was struck by the differences time had on them. While years of running had made her own body hard and lean, Ginny had grown softer and wider. Her genuine affection still felt the same though, and Emily was grateful for her friendship. Looking over her old friend’s shoulder, Emily caught her first glimpse of Laurie in two years.
She’d grown. From across the room, it appeared that she and her sister were now the same height. Her baby fat had melted away, revealing high cheekbones and a strong chin. Emily blinked. Looking at Laurie was like seeing herself fifteen years earlier. Their similarities were eerie.
“Let these two have their family reunion.” Mark Castle led his daughter away, but not before bestowing a reassuring wink at Emily.
Alone in the room, the two sisters stared at one another, facing off like a pair of gunslingers in the Old West. Emily clenched her hands, resisting the urge to scratch her scarred palm. Laurie chewed on her lower lip.
Drawing a blank, Emily cast about, desperate to find the words to say the right thing, but terrified of saying something wrong, making this already uncomfortable situation even worse. The irony didn’t escape her that she made her living by communicating ideas to the general public, but was unable to express even a greeting to her own sister. Keep It Simple Stupid.
“Hi.”
The single word seemed to hang in the air a beat too long. Maybe she should have said, “Good Morning” or “How are you?” Maybe…
With a sob that tore at Emily’s heart, Laurie flew across the room. Throwing her arms around her big sister, she almost knocked them both to the ground. Oblivious of their balance predicament, the younger Wright girl began talking and crying in a jumbled, breathless rush. “So glad you’re here… Daddy’s hurt… Have you seen him? So scared…You’re staying, right? They wouldn’t let me sleep at the hospital. What are we going to do? I can’t believe you came.”
Emily waited out the torrent of thoughts as they poured out of Laurie. This wasn’t the welcome she’d imagined. She’d been expecting to be greeted with restraint, maybe even outright hostility. She hadn’t anticipated being embraced in a bear hug, and facing such neediness.
Laurie needed her. That much was clear. Bailey had been right. She might have hated him for making her come back to this place, but he’d been right to call her. Her little sister required someone to look after her.
Laurie squeezed her tighter. Reflexively Emily hugged her back, attempting to calm her. The teenager was trembling, obviously panicked. Emily recognized that out-of-control feeling. When something happened that knocked your entire world off-kilter, it was human nature to cling to something, anything solid, even if it wasn’t something or someone overly familiar.
“Shh,” Emily soothed. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here now. You’re not alone. Don’t be scared. It’s going to be all right.”
Reassured, the girl stopped shaking. Sniffling back her tears she asked, “You won’t leave?”
“I’m not going to abandon you, Laurie.” Even as she made the promise, Emily knew she was going to regret those words.
H
e would have loved to have been a fly in the room, witnessing the reunion of the Wright sisters, but he couldn’t take the chance.
He’d already pushed his luck by sneaking into The Garden Gate to leave the roses for Emily.
The roses were perfect. They were like everything she had been. Beautiful. Innocent. So soft. So sweet.
Her sister was still perfect.
He couldn’t wait to play with them.
But not yet. It wasn’t time. Soon though.
Right now there was another girl he wanted to toy with.
He was putting the finishing touches on their playroom right now. The walls had been soundproofed. No one would hear her scream.
The tools were laid out. Waiting for when he was ready for them.
The brand-new clothes he’d bought to dress her up in had been washed in rose water. Crushing them in his fist, he raised them to his nose. They smelled so good.
Not as good as she’d smell though.
It was time to play.
Chapter 6
The “coffee shop” in the tiny hospital was really just a small room with two tables, plastic chairs and a couple of vending machines. Having conferred with her father’s physician, a somber woman, Doctor Wyatt, Emily now had a better picture of her father’s condition. After explaining that Donald Wright had multiple broken bones and severe burns over much of his body, the doctor had said as gently as possible that his chances of recovery were significantly less than fifty-fifty. The burns made him vulnerable to infection and the impact of the explosion had damaged both his spleen and kidneys. He’d been unconscious since the accident and the doctor couldn’t say whether he’d ever wake up.
Emily had nodded her understanding and thanked Doctor Wyatt for her time. Now she paced in front of the vending machines searching for a food fix to temporarily make herself feel better. She had no fantasies about a tearful family reunion or a deathbed request for forgiveness. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.
