Protecting Emma

by ML Michaels

  For a while.

  The town of Harlan was as middle of the road as there ever was. Picket fences, pristine lawns, and an aging population which couldn’t understand the younger generation and its need to leave; all reasons enough for Dana Hope to step out on her own. And so she did.

  For a while.

  It was the death of her uncle that brought her back, seven years after she’d left. Dana returned for the funeral, to help with the estate and to make sure her uncle’s last wishes were carried out. She hadn’t even known he was ill. The news hit her like a lightning bolt, and when the noise and thunder died down, all Dana was left with were sorrow and guilt for not having been around more. Uncle Roy had raised Dana when her parents died in a fire. He’d looked out for her, kept her on the straight and narrow as much as he could. They were happy in that old house by Harlan Lake, on the outskirts of town. Happy.

  For a while.

  It was Uncle Roy’s funeral that brought her back to her home town, but it was Jason Folly that made Dana want to stay. On her first day back she saw him. He had his head buried in an old musty book, walking down the main street. Time had been kind to him, and his thick black hair ruffled in front of his eyes as a cooling summer breeze whispered through. He passed Dana unaware. She was desperate to say something. To say hello. Anything. But she didn’t. They had parted on a sour note, and she was unsure whether he’d be happy to see her or not. She was certainly happy to see him, and to discover that he had returned to Harlan Town. But he kept walking. And so did Dana.

  She walked on down the street, cutting across the Martens’ field, and then wandering through the country roads to her uncle’s now vacant home. The house was just the way she remembered it. Faded white wood slats adorned the outside, which rose up two stories, looking down on a large patch of land, with Harlan Lake glistening in the summer sun to the rear. Out front she could see the old sycamore tree she used to play in, the rope swing that had provided so many hours of solace, still dangling, yet rotten away by time and the elements. Where had the years gone? At 26 Dana was still young, but those seven years spent away from my home had passed by in a blink, an unwelcome reminder that time claims all.

  The funeral was still a few days away, but there were rumors that all was not well just before Uncle Roy had his fatal heart attack. The night he had died, he’d had an argument with a stranger around the back of Nelly’s bar, a cozy dive off of Main Street. Tom Brice had seen it. Said he’d never seen the fella before. Uncle Roy wasn’t the type to fight or argue, so this was unusual. He was kind; a story teller of the highest order, and a rare wit, a soft humor that provoked a smile and nothing more. The town would miss him.

  For a while.

  The argument wasn’t the only strange thing about Uncle Roy’s last few days; he’d also emptied his bank account. He withdrew a substantial sum and none of it could be found. It was as if the money just upped and vanished. Dana wondered about that – about what he’d spent it on – but neither the argument nor the missing money was what concerned her most. What stuck in her mind like a pin was the fact that Uncle Roy had bought a gun one week before he died. Dana knew very well how he felt about guns. He hated the damned things, mostly because a childhood friend of his called Bobby Gerrard shot himself stone cold dead by accident when he was 11 years old. He had been messing around with his dad’s rifle, not knowing it was loaded. And from that day on, Uncle Roy swore blind that he’d have nothing to do with guns. And he’d kept to that his entire life.

  Something had made him buy a gun. And the only thing Dana could think of was that he must have done so out of fear. Something had him spooked. Worse still, Dana had found the gun registration in a desk in his study. He’d bought the gun in town from one Mr. J. Folly. Why would Jason sell Uncle Roy a gun?

  As Dana read through Uncle Roy’s files and papers trying to make sense of his estate, her mind kept returning to Jason. To the time they’d spent in their teens. A happier time. When Uncle Roy would be out on the lawn cooking up a barbecue, and Jason and she would come back to the old white house just in time to be served up some of Uncle Roy’s finest, filling themselves as they looked out at the clear waters of the lake, dreaming of a future life. When everything was in bloom, and the entire world lay out up ahead, like seemed like an adventure to be discovered.

  Tears rolled down Dana’s cheeks as she thought back to those days, wishing she could go back and do it all again, to be anywhere but surrounded by dear Uncle Roy’s papers, the last remnants of a good life. And that was when she saw it: An unopened, undelivered letter poking out from the mess of documents around her. It was addressed to Jason Folly. Dana felt the edges of the envelope in her hand. Somehow she knew the importance of what lay inside, but it would have to wait until she could deliver the letter to Jason in person.

  Dana fought the impulse to open the envelope, a struggle that saved her from a series of terrible revelations. At least...

  For a while.

  ***

  Dana hadn’t slept well. She had returned to her old bedroom, which her uncle had kept as it was when she was a teenager, and it should have been a comforting experience being home. But it wasn’t. She just couldn’t get the thought of Uncle Roy’s death out of her head; especially the fact that he had bought a gun.

  After fixing herself some breakfast, Dana left the old white house with intent. She was going to figure it all out. That would keep her going, while keeping the guilt of not being around for her uncle at bay. It had been eating away at her since she’d heard the news, but now she had something else to focus on, and while it was a mystery, it was also a welcome reprieve from her own mind.

  Dana pulled up outside the bookstore on Main Street and took in her surroundings. It hadn’t changed one bit, as if a winter had come in at some point and frozen her home town, defrosted and ready for summer now that she had returned. The Lodge where her Uncle Roy used to drink was further down the street, and a little ice cream place she’d go to as a kid still had “best ice cream in town” on a worn yellow sign – it was the only ice cream in town.

  But it was the bookstore Dana was interested in, and more specifically someone who worked in it. She opened the door, the sun blazing through the window lighting up pieces of thin dust in the air, and saw immediately that Jason Folly stood behind the counter. He didn’t even look up, his head buried in another book.

  Dana walked to the counter: “Hi, I’m wondering if you have any maps of the town, I haven’t been here for a while and I’m afraid I’ll lose my way,” she said, hoping for a positive response.

  Jason looked up, his deep blue eyes shocked for a moment at the sight of his high school sweetheart. Then they softened. “It’s the 21rst century Miss, why don’t you use your phone?” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

  They both laughed, and after a tight embrace, they were exchanging pleasantries, telling each other about how long it had been. How long since they were kids. How long since they were teenagers. How long...

  After a few moments, Jason’s smile faded and the reality of life set in: “I was so sorry to hear about your Uncle Roy, Dana.”

  A flicker of emotion slipped across Dana’s face. But she was strong that way, and while inside she was cut up with grief, she always knew how to hold it together in public. Always. “Thanks, Jason. I appreciate it. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’m staying back up at the old house, sorting through some of Uncle Roy’s things.”

  “Must be tough doing that,” Jason offered. “Listen, the place is quiet. I’ve got a sales assistant who can man the counter. Why don’t you come round to the office in the back, I’ll treat you to a world famous Folly’s Books’ coffee?”

  Dana hadn’t even noticed the name on the book store. It used to be old Garnet’s place, but Jason had bought it after the grey-bearded bookstore owner moved to a retirement village. She thought that maybe the town actually had changed, unseen, under the skin rather than in any obvious way. The bookstore was still a bookst
ore, but it had changed.

  After Jason whipped up some decidedly decent coffee, Dana followed him into a small office in the back, filled with books, files, and a bin that was overflowing with crumpled up paper next to a typewriter.

  “Still trying to write the next great American novel?”

  “Trying, and failing,” Jason said before smiling. “But I will keep trying.”

  He then went straight to the topic at hand. He’d never been one to beat around the bush. He talked about Dana’s Uncle Roy, and how he’d tried to keep up with him as much as possible. Then he stopped for a moment and looked at Dana: “You know you’ve barely aged a day since I last saw you.”

  “I wish that were true, but I’ll take the compliment, thanks. I see you still don’t know how to comb your hair.” Dana pointed to the messy tangle of hair on his head. It was indeed messy, but there was no doubting how handsome Jason was. There was a style to him, sure he could be a little unkempt, but there was something quirky in that, and that was how she liked it.

  Just as that pleasant thought filtered through Dana’s mind, Jason replied: “You used to like my messy hair.”

  This made Dana uncomfortable. She didn’t want to reignite any relationship. She was too busy dealing with the grief of losing her only family. But if she were honest, the way Jason smiled at her made her feel happy for the first time in a long time. She pushed that thought to the side as best she could.

  “Jason, did you notice anything strange about Uncle Roy before he died?”

  Jason looked uncomfortable before answering: “To be honest, Dana, I think a lot of people were concerned about him. He’d come into town looking ill, confused sometimes. He wasn’t shaving, and with every week he looked thinner somehow. It wasn’t a shock to me when he passed.”

  Guilt swelled in Dana’s stomach, and for a moment she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She had stayed in touch with Roy but hadn’t seen him in the flesh for a year. She was ashamed of herself. But the career she had built in the city was important to her, and while she spoke to him every few weeks on the phone, she fell into the bubble of routine like so many do.

  But Roy had deserved more. When Dana’s parents died in the fire, he was all she had in the world. He took her in. He made sure she was educated. He put a roof over her head, food on the table, but most importantly he’d shown her love. And sometimes that’s all a child really needs. A love so committed that the loss of her parents had barely left a mark. That was testament to Roy. And yes, she thought, he did deserve better.

  “Dana, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Putting down the cup coffee, she reached into her handbag and pulled out the letter she’d found among Roy’s papers. “Here, Jason. I found this in my house. It’s addressed to you, but obviously Uncle Roy never got a chance to give it to you.”

  Jason took the envelope. With a grim look on his face, he opened it and read the letter inside.

  “What does it say, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Poor Roy...” Jason muttered under his breath. “What is it?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Dana. Just a few bits and bobs to do with the store. How about some lunch?”

  He stared at Dana, waiting for her reply. But Dana remembered that look. It was the same look he’d given her the night he found out he’d been accepted into college on the other side of the country. The night they broken up. It was the look of someone pretending everything was normal, when in fact they had a secret on their mind, one that would change things.

  “Jason, tell me. Please,” Dana said in no uncertain terms.

  “Here, read it for yourself,” Jason handed the letter to Dana.

  She looked at it, and read the words, a message from beyond the grave that confused and worried in equal measure.

  Jason,

  I’m writing to you because I’m not sure who I can trust. You were always a good kid, and I know you loved Dana very much. I need you to do something for me, for her. I don’t expect to be around for much longer, for all I know I’ll be gone by the time you read this. You need to keep Dana away from Harlan. When the funeral happens, she’ll be in danger if she comes here. I haven’t had a chance to change my will yet, things have been moving so fast, but I’m going to. I know it doesn’t make sense, but just trust me that Dana’s life will be in danger if she’s ever in Harlan again.

  I’ll contact my lawyer and have the papers drawn up. I’m going to leave the house to you. Sell up as soon as you can, and give the proceeds to Dana. But only contact her after all of this is done. She’ll be mad as hell at you, but it could save her life.

  Please do this for me kiddo. And don’t tell a soul about it. Not even your family. No one can know. If I’m still around when you receive this, don’t contact me either. They’re watching, and there’s no need for you to be pulled into this.

  Thank you. And look after Dana for me. Make sure she gets the life she deserves.

  Your old pal,

  Roy

  Dana was shocked. She’d been suspicious about her Uncle Roy’s death, but this only confirmed that somehow he’d thought his life was in danger. He’d died the night he wrote the letter, and hadn’t changed his will. Despite his efforts, Dana had ended up in Harlan after all.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about this,” said Jason, gesturing towards the letter in Dana’s hand.

  “Not worry!? I think Uncle Roy was in danger, and the stress killed him. That’s what I think!” Dana said loudly.

  “Honey, I don’t think for a second that any of this is real.”

  “So, my Uncle Roy was lying!?”

  Jason leaned over from where he was sitting and touched Dana’s hand, but while she wished for his touch, it was not enough to calm her.

  “Dana, your Uncle Roy was a sweet man. But I think he wasn’t well. Folk around town knew something was going on with him, and most believed he was losing his mind somehow.”

  “And no one thought to contact me!”

  “I tried to get your number, but Roy wouldn’t give it to me. And reading that letter, he sure as hell didn’t want you to come running.”

  They both sat in silence for a moment; Dana mulling over the letter and her guilt, Jason trying desperately to think of a way to make things right. But there was no making things better. Dana had lost her uncle, and that was that.

  Finally, Dana spoke: “Why would you sell Uncle Roy a gun if you thought he wasn’t right in the head?”

  Jason looked surprised. He’d sold Roy an old revolver he’d had because Roy said there were some prowlers out his way and he wanted to scare them off. At that point Roy seemed like his usual good natured self. Within a few weeks Jason regretted the transaction. Roy started looking not his usual self. He got scruffier by the day and seemed paranoid whenever he came into town.

  Jason explained the entire story and as he did, Dana could see that Jason was hurting too. He didn’t have the best family. His dad had been a drunk and didn’t think twice about raising his hand. Uncle Roy had been a role model to him, a shoulder to cry on when needed; Dana wasn’t the only person who’d lost someone she loved.

  After a while the conversation moved to other things, away from the sadness of the present, to the record of the past. How Jason had come home after college, and when his dad passed away he was able to scrape enough money together between the inheritance and his savings to buy old Garnet’s bookstore. How he’d been engaged for a while, but that it never worked out, and that he surprised himself. The town of Harlan was the one place he’d wanted to leave as a kid, now it was the one placed he couldn’t bear to be away from.

  In those moments, Dana felt a connection to Jason, and if he were honest, he felt the same. They had always clicked. It was circumstance that had split them apart, not a lack of love.

  A knock came at the door, and Jason’s bespectacled sales assistant poked his head into the office. “Boss, there’s a woman here saying she wants to return a book. A Stephen King
book called “Bag of Bones,” says there’s too much sex in it.”

  Jason laughed: “Just give her a refund.”

  “But she doesn’t have a receipt…”

  “Sounds like you need a bookworm to solve this. I’ll give you your boss back,” Dana said.

  The assistant smirked nervously, not sure if he could laugh or not.

  “Less of the bookworm, I’m a potential award winning writer now don’t you know.” Jason tapped his typewriter proudly.

  And Dana believed him. Jason had always been great at telling stories. It seemed only right that one day he should be paid for it. They said their goodbyes, but not before exchanging numbers. As Dana left the store she felt elated. It wasn’t hard to remember why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. As for Jason himself, he attended to the lady returning the book, but for the rest of the day he thought about Dana Hope, and how happy he was that she was back in town.

  ***

  Dana walked out of the bookstore and breathed in the noon sun. For a moment she thought about peeking over her shoulder to see if Jason was looking at her from inside, but decided to play it cool and walk to her car.

  The conversation in the bookstore still rattled around her head. While the reasonable conclusion was that her Uncle Roy had been experiencing some sort of mental health issue or illness which had affected his mind, she just couldn’t get rid of the idea that it was all real. That Uncle Roy had been in danger, and that now she was.

  “Dana!” a familiar voice said happily.

  Looking up, Dana could see the smiling face of the town Sheriff, Wes Dean. He was a little rounder than she remembered, and when he took his hat off as a courtesy, she could see that his hairline was fighting a losing battle. But nonetheless, it was Wes. The same Wes who had brought Dana home when she was sixteen years old and full of vodka her friend had swiped from his parents. The same Wes who told Uncle Roy not to be too hard on her when she’d smashed a window at the age of ten. The same Wes who took Dana, a five-year-old girl at the time, to Uncle Roy’s house the night her parents had died in the fire.