The Righteous and The Wicked

by April Emerson

  “Um . . . well, sometimes people do that when they love each other.” Emma clears the children’s empty glasses.

  “Are you and Eric going to get married?”

  Emma is taken aback, and lets out a nervous giggle. “I don’t know. Do you think we should?”

  “Yes. Because you love each other.”

  “You’re a very wise little lady.” Eric says and picks Sarah up so that he can look into her eyes. “But you have to promise that you’ll be there.”

  “Do I have to wear a dress?” Sarah crinkles up her nose in distaste.

  “You can wear anything you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Sarah squirms and Eric sets her down, then she and Jason clamber out of the kitchen shouting goodbyes over their shoulders. Eric approaches Emma at the sink, and wraps his arms around her waist. They stand together in silence, watching the children run home.

  The early autumn day is filled with a charge of anticipation and a poignant wave of emotion that can only be described as love. A word that defines something so layered and complex—and different for everyone.

  A wedding is an opportunity to bear witness to that love. Just as the bride and groom are bound to each other, each guest becomes bound to the couple, carrying memories of solemn vows and true happiness in their hearts.

  Eric holds the door for Emma as she gets out of the Jeep, and kisses her forehead as they say goodbye. He watches her walk away from him in search of the bridal suite, and then heads in the opposite direction to locate Sean’s groom’s room.

  After much preparation and many cocktails, the bridal party arrives at the church. Eric doesn’t feel the nerves that Sean is feeling. He does his best to distract his friend from the cold feet that all men feel on this day, regardless of how much they love the woman they are about to marry.

  Guests stagger and file into the church, and the one thing Eric feels is painful impatience to see Emma. He doesn’t like to be away from her for long. In an effort to kill time, he adjusts his tie, smoothes his hand through his hair and shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. Then the music begins to reverberate through the church, and the doors open. Eric could not have anticipated the way he feels when he sees Emma walking toward him, bouquet in hand.

  Participating in the institution of marriage is not something that had ever occurred to him. His dark burden, his addiction, never allowed him to entertain any concept of commitment or devotion, but at this moment, he realizes commitment and devotion are what he feels for Emma. His mouth twitches at this thought and it turns into a full-blown smile when her gaze meets his.

  When the doors to the church swing open, Emma is greeted by familiar sights and sounds—stained-glass-filtered light, the large and looming crucifix, and the hollow notes of the organ. It’s time, and she takes the first step into the seemingly endless aisle. This journey echoes the emotional one she has just taken. Long and exhausting, but not without reward. She smiles when she thinks of Eric, and looks straight ahead, her eyes now focused on the man waiting at the end of the aisle beside the groom. He is smiling, too.

  The fixtures of this church, which have been crutches and ladders for Emma, all blur and fade from view. He is all she can see. The sight of Stormy in a church makes Emma blush. He’s adorable and out of place, and he winks at her as she walks to the opposite side of the altar.

  Danielle’s elegant ivory dress is draped around her body, fitted to her torso and flaring out at her waist in delicate layers of organza. She looks beautiful as she takes momentous steps, steps she’ll never forget. All eyes are on her, but Eric and Emma don’t notice. All they see is each other.

  Father O’Hara steps forward and greets the guests, then begins the ritual of this holy sacrament. Emma listens, but doesn’t hear him. She’s distracted by her sexy, tuxedo-clad boyfriend throughout the long ceremony.

  Her attention returns to the words being spoken when Abby takes her place at the podium. She begins to read, not from the Bible, but from a Native American wedding blessing. She says things Emma feels in her heart. Things she never felt in her relationship with Aaron, but now, with Eric, she does.

  “Now you will feel no rain,

  for each of you will be shelter for the other.

  Now you will feel no cold,

  for each of you will be warmth for the other.

  Now there is no more loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other.

  Now you are two bodies,

  but there is only one life before you.

  Go now to your dwelling place to enter into your togetherness.

  And may your days together be good and long upon the earth.”15

  Emma finds Eric’s eyes again and she gets lost in the blue. Her shelter, her warmth, her companion.

  He smiles at her and allows himself to experience this moment—he’s standing in church and has never felt more of a sense of belonging. The irony of this truth is not lost on him. He looks up at the flaming heart inside the stained glass window, and he knows that this is a miracle.

  The recessional begins and Eric offers Emma his arm as they exit the church. He’s happy to be touching her again. They’re forced to stand in awkward positions as they pose for pictures with the bride and groom, and then rush into separate limos.

  The reception is held in an old stone building on the grounds of an estate. The dining room is lit with candles, and white roses adorn each of the small round tables. Danielle and Sean enter the reception after the guests have been seated and begin their first dance alone.

  Emma sits at her table; the place card beside her seat bears Eric’s name, but he’s not here. She feels anxious, but the music is beautiful and Emma sips her champagne with a smile, happy for her friends. The bond the newlyweds share radiates throughout the room.

  Danielle and Sean take their seats at a small sweetheart table as the first course is served. Still, Eric is nowhere in sight. Emma’s first drink is finished, and she begins another. Then, at last, he appears.

  He enters from a side door and doesn’t see her. She raises her hand to wave, but stops herself. He moves through the dining room, dodging drunken guests and relatives. He looks like he’s on a quest. A feeling Emma can’t quite put her finger on rises up inside her, and then she realizes what it is.

  Stormy is hunting, but Emma knows with absolute certainty the person he’s hunting for is her. He circles and lurks in the shadows, his eyes scanning the crowded room. Emma lets herself enjoy this. She doesn’t make it easy for him. His tuxedo is like a second skin on his slim body, and Emma has never laid eyes on a more beautiful man. When he sees her, their gazes lock. He stalks toward her with determination, but when he arrives at the table, he doesn’t sit. The other couples look puzzled by his behavior, but return to their cocktails and conversations.

  He leans in and whispers to her. “I’ve been away from you for too long today. Emma, I want you.”

  Emma rises from her seat, and her hand is enveloped in his. He guides her out of the candlelit dining room through the door that he entered. The cool night surrounds them. Emma’s unsure, but Eric doesn’t hesitate. He leads her down a dirt path into the darkness. They walk with interlaced hands, but neither of them speaks. When they reach their destination, Emma is aghast.

  Weeping willow branches hang low over an old outdoor chapel, its waist-high stone walls hidden by moss. It’s exquisite. As soon as they ascend the three short steps, Eric’s arms are around her, and his lips are on hers.

  The language that lives in Eric’s heart flows from his lips. “Você é a mulher da minha vida.”16 He’s filled with a fever that Emma has come to savor. His need for her consumes him as he slides his fingers up under her skirt, and then kneels before her. Emma is speechless as he licks between her legs. His long tongue touches her, and laps at her lips. She hears the sounds of the evening woods, crickets chirp and it feels as if she and Eric are here alone, and not a few hundred feet away from a room filled with drunken people ce
lebrating.

  The thought that they may be caught here creeps up in her mind, and excites her, but is pushed away when Eric rises to his feet and turns her body around. She grips the stone wall and smiles at the welcome sound of Eric unzipping his pants. The perfect fit of his body fills her and her eyes roll closed. He buries his face in the back of her hair as he pulls her hips against him. Their bodies meet and separate and Emma is overwhelmed by the passion and love she feels. “So perfect.”

  “I know.”

  Eric’s heart demands to see Emma’s face as he makes love to her. The cold stones don’t make much of a bed, but Eric lies down and pulls her on top of him. He wraps his jacket over her shoulders and kisses her. The full moon hangs above them, casting the world in a pale and peaceful light. Their motions are both frenzied and gentle; they share passion and pleasure that are unparalleled, until both their hearts and bodies pound. After they’ve each felt blissful ecstasy, they kiss and embrace as the reception lingers into the late summer night.

  Emma wakes on a Saturday to find Eric standing naked in the sunlight that shines through her bedroom window. “What are you doing?” she mumbles, and pulls the covers over her head. “Come back to bed.”

  “No. No, wake up. Come on. It’s so nice out. Let’s go for a ride.” His enthusiasm infects her, and she does as he says.

  They ride their bikes down an old, overgrown path that Eric insists on following, even though they don’t know where it’ll take them. They each work up a sweat on the warm autumn day and emerge on the opposite side of the secret river they visited once before.

  A devious look crosses Eric’s face as he gets off his bike, and before Emma knows what’s happened, he rips his T-shirt over his head and races toward the water, removing the rest of his clothing when he reaches the shore. His muscles flex as he runs naked into the waves. He breaks the surface and beckons to Emma. She tosses her clothing and swims out to meet him in the coolness of the water. When she reaches him, she’s enveloped in his embrace. The smile on his face melts Emma’s heart, and she’s certain she wears the same expression. He lets her go and she floats on her back, looking up at heaven. She closes her eyes and sinks into the chilly water, propelling herself down into the freedom of the deep.

  As always, Eric’s desire doesn’t keep him away from her for long. He swims toward her, enveloping her in his muscular arms as she wraps her legs around his hips. They float together, alone in the wilderness, but his expression becomes unsure.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  He looks panicked as he scans the shore. “I don’t remember which direction we rode in from. Do you?”

  Emma glances back toward the place where their bikes rest in the grass. The overgrown path that led them here is no longer visible, but she doesn’t care. She knows they’ll find their way back. She answers him with a kiss, and they relax into each other’s arms.

  Having found each other, Eric and Emma can never be lost again.

  Epilogue

  A new wing has been added onto the old white house and Evan Wilder is coming home today. Emma takes a long and luxurious shower when she arrives home from the hospital, and once she’s dressed in clean, warm clothes, she walks toward the nursery to see her newborn son. The door is open just enough for Emma to see their tiny baby cradled in Eric’s arms. She listens at the door as he prepares their son for sleep.

  “Let’s think of all the good things you could dream about.” He’s pensive for a moment and then smiles. “You could dream about your mommy. She loves you more than you know . . .”

  Emma’s eyes water and she pulls the door closed. She goes down to the kitchen to get something to drink and as she stands at the sink, she looks up at the wooden cross that still resides above the window. She gazes toward the house that Eric built, the reason that brought him to her. She hears her wind chime tinkling in the breeze, and Emma says a silent prayer of gratitude.

  Eric leaves his sleeping son and avoids the creaky floorboards as he makes his way down to the kitchen. He stands behind his beautiful wife and wraps his arms around her as he kisses the top of her head. They gaze at their reflection in the window. The only sound is the ticking of the kitchen clock, and Emma smiles, thinking that each second of their lives led them to this. Eric and Emma’s imperfections allowed them to find something perfect, the bad cleared a path for the good, and every single moment was worth it.

  Thank you for your purchase. Please long onto Amazon.com or Goodreads.com and leave a review for this title. We would love to hear from you.

  Acknowledgements

  As I write this, I am overcome with gratitude. A great deal of work was put into this novel by many people and I’m indebted to all of them for their generous gifts of time and insight.

  First, I have to thank every single reader for taking this journey. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

  There are several people who have invested themselves in this book: Blerina, thank you for loving Stormy from day one. Kristin C. Z., you have been a fan since the first word. Thank you. Jada D’Lee, thank you for all your amazing artistic contributions, especially the cover of this book. You have always been a great friend to me. Sophie, Rebecca, Blair, Jamie, Liz, Donna—thank you for your work on the earliest versions of this story. Kiki, thanks for the plum.

  Many thanks to my fellow authors who have supported me, I love being a part of the community that comes with this genre. To everyone at TWCS, thank you for welcoming me and for teaching me.

  My editor, Wendy Depperschmidt, deserves a gargantuan amount of credit for molding this raw story into something lucid and beautiful. I would also like to thank Christine M for her work as copy editor and Andrea for her work as proofreader. I am blessed to have been a part of such a great team. Thank you.

  To my incredible husband—I couldn’t ask for a better partner to go through life with—thank you for your infinite patience and for believing in me.

  To my family, I love you more than you know.

  About the Author

  April Emerson grew up in rural upstate New York, and moved to New York City after graduating from college with a degree in Literature. As a nature lover, living in the city was a culture shock, but she soon began to enjoy being surrounded by so much energy. Submerged in perpetual crowds, April developed a fondness for people-watching, which inspired her to start writing. Drawn to both the light and dark of humanity, she strives to tell sexy and romantic stories with exquisitely complex characters. When she isn’t writing, she loves listening to music or reading a good book, with a glass of wine.

  Notes

  1. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

  2. Paraphrased from the Bible

  3. Your beauty is a gift to me. Your lips are heavenly, your skin so soft.

  4. I adore you.

  5. “I Am Not Yours” by Sara Teasdale.

  6. You’re the one for me.

  7. I love being with you like this.

  8. I’m not leaving because . . . I love you, Emma.

  9. Only you.

  10. I love you so much.

  11. Only you, my love.

  12. Yes, my love.

  13. My beautiful.

  14. My angels.

  15. Native American Wedding Blessing.

  16. You are the woman of my life.