“Mr. Crusoe,” Emma said, “how do you feel about spending time with hundreds of people? I know you grew accustomed to living without human contact for so long on your island.”
Crusoe turned to look at her. “I overcame my despair and built a life out of what I had been given. I thanked God for a fate in which nothing I needed was missing, except friendship. As complicated as humans can be, and as barbaric, I still delight in the presence of others. I do believe I would enjoy spending time with people. Are you offering to break the rules for me too? Perhaps for us?”
Emma looked at Crusoe and then at Darcy. “If you both promise to be on your best behavior and you promise to come back at the end of the day. Can I trust you?”
Darcy smiled so widely that Emma could see nearly every tooth in his mouth. He reached out and clasped her hand between both of his. “Ms. Emma, words fail me. You have lifted my heart in a way that I cannot properly describe. On my honor I will return at the closing of the festival.”
Crusoe nodded. “You have my word. I am grateful for your faith in me. I will not let you down.” He turned back toward the window and pressed both hands against the glass.
“Oh, and you can’t tell anyone who you really are. Just pretend you’re eccentrics from out of town,” Emma said and both men nodded. Then she exhaled. I hope I don’t regret this, but they have both done so much to help me with the mess I made. “Most importantly, have fun.”
Food trucks arrived midmorning and parked in designated spots. They prepped their menu items, and soon the summer breeze carried the scents of vanilla waffle cones, melting chocolate, funnel cakes, spiced nuts, hamburgers, french fries, and tacos. And those were just a few of the offerings.
A line formed at the front gate around noon and stretched down the sidewalk. At promptly 12:30 the ticket girls opened the gates, and a flood of people flowed in full of eagerness and bright eyes. The first band kicked off their opening number, and Emma held her clipboard of maps and information against her chest.
“Here we go,” she said to James. “I know you want to help me keep everything under control, but I think you should enjoy yourself too. Wander around and be a soldier for a day. Give people a proper history lesson. You’ll blend right in with all of the other participants.”
“I’d like that,” he said. “But I’ll keep an eye out for you, and you holler if you need anything. I’ll find you in a couple of hours, and we can grab a snack at the food trucks. Remember, you owe me a dance or two.”
“I like that plan. Now go. I’ll keep this ship on course.”
The afternoon went much smoother than Emma imagined. There had only been a few minor issues, but they were easy to fix. Although she remained on high alert for problems, the festivalgoers and the vendors sailed through the afternoon on a sea of enjoyment. She’d even seen Darcy and Crusoe a few times, and their smiles and hands full of food made her happy she’d broken the rules for them too.
The Ink Blots took the stage at 7:30 p.m., and James found Emma helping one of the local children tie off a yellow water balloon. She looked up as he approached and shielded her eyes from the sunlight.
“Sounds like they’re playing our song,” he said, holding out his hand for her.
Her stomach knotted. She wiped her wet hands on her shorts. “I meant it when I said I don’t know how to dance.”
“I plan on taking it slow.”
She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her to the dance floor, which was crowded with couples swaying to a 1940s ballad. James wrapped one arm around her waist and held up his other hand so she could slide her fingers through his. He moved their bodies back and forth in rhythm, and she exhaled, willing herself to relax. By the time the second song started, Emma felt more at ease, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“I like this,” she said, breathing in his scent and closing her eyes.
Emma had skipped every dance her schools had ever hosted, so she had avoided the possibility of embarrassing herself by being clumsy while on display during middle school and high school. She’d also avoided suffering the sting of no one asking her to a dance, since she’d always adamantly sworn she had no interest in going. But she had been curious, and more than once she’d wished some boy would have asked her anyway. Now she understood what she’d been missing out on.
“I love this,” he said.
When the next song started with a quick tempo, Emma tugged James off the dance floor. “I don’t think I’m ready for the Jitterbug or Swing dancing.”
He pulled her against him. “I can teach you.”
Emma laughed. “Not right now. I’m just getting used to the idea that I can dance to the slow ones. Thank you for bringing me out here. I’m glad my first dance was with you. It was really nice.”
James pressed his cheek against her hair. “Really nice is an understatement. I could dance with you until the stars come out and then the sun rises and then—”
She laughed again and pushed him away from her. “Are you sweet talking me? Trying to woo me?”
“Is it working?”
Emma pressed her hands against his chest. “James, I need to be honest with you.”
His expression sobered. “Let’s hear it.”
“Everything you do works for me.”
He covered her hands with his. “I know just what you mean.”
At 8:30 p.m. the festival started winding down, and the crowd thinned as people found their way to their cars. Vendors packed up, and the food trucks sold the last of their goods to late-night eaters. Emma knew that everyone would be gone in less than an hour, so she headed indoors to make sure the vendors had help packing up if they needed it. More than half of the indoor booths had already been dismantled, and the volunteers helped vendors carry boxes and supplies out to the vehicles.
Emma took the stairs up to the second floor and looked around. It was empty except for a scattering of left-behind papers and to-go cups. She gathered the trash and carried it to a trash bin. While she reached across a table and scooped up a couple of stray pencils, she heard someone walk up behind her. Emma turned to see who was nearby, thinking it might be James, and her stomach dropped. Thomas—tanned and confident—stood there smiling at her.
14
“Hey there,” Thomas said, grinning at her as though they’d planned to meet, as though he hadn’t been gone and silent for months.
Emma stared at him and inhaled a slow breath that she hoped might control her heart as it galloped out of control. She squeezed the pencils in her hand.
“Your response should be hey,” Thomas said, moving closer.
The back of Emma’s neck burned as her thoughts slammed around in her mind like trapped, angry wasps.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.
“We brought the kids. Great job with the festival. They had a good time. Myles brought his girlfriend, so he didn’t spend as much time with us, but she’s a nice girl. Laura and Christian had a blast with all the kids’ activities. Y’all had plenty for them to do this year, even better than last year, I think. I saw you out on the dance floor with a guy. Who is he? I haven’t seen him before. Seems like you two know each other pretty well.”
Is he jealous? Emma’s empty hand balled into a fist. She shook her head, thinking about James, and her insides squeezed even tighter. At this rate, she wasn’t going to be able to breathe in a few minutes. “He’s not from around here.”
He paused, as though waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t offer any more conversation, he said, “Vague on the details, I see. But you look good, Em. Beautiful as ever. I missed you. Every day I thought about you. Every. Day.”
Disbelief washed over her, and then anger crackled in her chest as her jaw clenched. “You expect me to believe that? You haven’t contacted me for months.” Emma shook her head. “You might as well be a stranger to me.”
Thomas smirked. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? You and I haven’t been strangers for a while. You know
me better than anyone.”
Emma’s stomach expanded with emptiness, and she recalled how she’d felt after he’d disappeared without a word. “If I know you better than anyone, then that’s pathetic because I barely know you. The man I thought you were wouldn’t have disappeared for months without answering at least one of my messages. That told me all I need to know about you and about how much you thought of me. You don’t get to show up and act like everything that happened is okay and we can just pick it back up again. My heart was devastated, suffering through days and days of loss that crashed over me in waves. I starved in your silence.”
Thomas walked toward her. She caught a whiff of the soap he used, and she remembered how she used to smell his scent on her hands.
“Still my favorite poet,” he said as though she weren’t serious. “Can you honestly say you haven’t thought of me? That you haven’t missed me?”
Emma backed herself against the table. “Of course I missed you, but that was overshadowed by the fact that I didn’t understand how it was so easy for you not to contact me day after day. I felt abandoned. I diminished.”
Thomas frowned. “You knew how stressful life was for me. You knew the pressure I was under. Temporary changes had to be made.”
A sickly feeling slithered through Emma’s stomach. Old wounds struggled to remain closed. She remembered the feeling of wanting Thomas so badly that it had given her a stomachache, wanting him in the way that was partly about the need to feel desired and partly about letting him swallow her whole, the way a viper devours a hummingbird. But the wanting left her feeling adrift and empty.
She placed the pencils on the table. “You had to do what was best for you and your family. I understood that, but we could have talked about it. You could have been honest with me. All I asked for was a little bit of your time because I loved you, and that was asking for too much. What I really didn’t understand was your silence. I felt sick with it. I dragged it around for days. Weeks.” Months.
Thomas reached for her hand, and for a moment, she let him intertwine his fingers with hers.
“Baby,” he said. “I’m sorry. I never stopped thinking about you or loving you. I don’t have anyone in my life like you. I miss that. I miss you. We had a lot of fun. We had a good thing, didn’t we?”
Emma pulled away her hand. “No. We had a broken thing, a mess of a relationship where you came and went when you had time. Our moments together felt like we were stealing time. There was always the ticking of a clock somewhere, telling me you’d be gone in minutes. In your life, if something had to give or had to be pushed aside, it was me. I was always the expendable one.” She moved past him, but Thomas grabbed her arm.
“That’s not true, Em. I’ve never pushed you aside in my heart. You’re still there. You’re still my favorite girl.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and weakness crawled into her heart. Words slinked across the books behind Thomas. I missed you. I loved you. Where have you been?
Thomas slid his hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and up her neck. She closed her eyes and remembered the familiar feel of his hand.
“I still love you, Em,” Thomas said, sliding his hand back down her arm. “I will always love you.”
Emma opened her eyes, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Yeah? And what has changed?” she asked.
His brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“What have you changed in your life that would make our situation any different? Would I not be the other woman now? Would I not be second? Would you have more time for me because you’d be free to spend time with me without either one of us feeling ashamed of what we’re doing?”
Thomas stared at her.
Emma nodded. “I think the answer that you’re searching for to the original question is nothing. Nothing has changed because you were never going to change anything about your life for me.” She stepped away from his reach, and his hand fell away. “Your silence and your leaving broke my heart,” Emma said. “Accepting that you couldn’t have truly loved me felt like burying someone who isn’t dead. That truth rebelled inside of me day after day. But your leaving was the best thing you could have ever done for me. When you cracked me apart, you left a gaping hole so something greater could fill it. There’s no place for you in my life anymore, and even if there were, I don’t want you in it. I’ve always deserved more than you were ever willing to offer.” She turned and walked away.
Thomas called her name by the time she reached the staircase, so she ran down them as though he might pursue her. She was terrified that if he did, she wouldn’t be able to resist his apology. Is he even really sorry? He should be, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him back into my life. She ran to a broom closet on the first floor, opened the door, and closed herself inside.
She leaned her back against the far wall and slid down, pushing a mop bucket out of the way, until her knees were pressed into her chest. Then she hugged her arms around her legs, touched her forehead to her knees, and let hot tears roll down her cheeks, releasing all of the emotional garbage she’d been carrying around in her heart since Thomas left. An awareness of deliverance broke the surface, and for the first time since Thomas had left, Emma felt free.
Fifteen minutes later, James opened the closet door and filled the small space with light. “I’m going to assume you’re not rearranging shelves or searching for the perfect broom.”
He stepped inside and held out his hand. Emma grabbed it and let James pull her to her feet.
She wiped at her cheeks and stared at her shoes. “How did you know I was in here?”
“I didn’t, although not for a lack of searching. Darcy said he heard crying. Then I recognized Thomas from the photograph you showed me. He was walking out of the library looking like a survivor of a great catastrophe, and I knew I needed to find you.”
Emma’s bottom lip trembled.
“No,” James said, “don’t you dare feel sorry for that man. He made his bed, so you let him lie in it. Without you.” James’ eyes held a questioning look. “You did tell him no, didn’t you?”
Emma didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded.
James’ gaze softened. He held open his arms for her. “Come here.”
Emma obeyed, and James folded her into his arms. New tears formed, but the intensity of her shock and sadness had faded.
“How’s your heart?” he asked while rubbing her back.
She sniffled against his chest. “Better than I thought it would be.” She leaned away from him. “I’ve imagined his return so many times in a million different ways. I imagined how my heart would react, everything I would say, and even how he might explain his absence in a way that would make his leaving less hurtful. But when the moment finally arrived, I felt mostly angry and indignant on my own behalf. He doesn’t get to waltz back into my life like he’s the returning hero. He doesn’t get access to me anymore. He gave that up. Willingly. I thought I would feel guilty for telling him to get lost, but I don’t. I want him to get lost.”
James pulled her against him and held her. “It’s important that you take care of yourself. I hope you know that.”
Emma nodded and exhaled. Vicki called her name from the foyer, and Emma pulled away from James and walked toward the circulation desk.
Vicki held two white paper plates weighted heavy with funnel cakes dusted in a thick layer of powdered sugar. She held the plates out toward Emma. “I brought dessert to celebrate! Oh, I didn’t realize James was still here. Well, we can share, and—hey, are you okay?”
Emma realized she must look like she’d been upset. She touched her fingertips to her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, just stress relieving.”
Vicki put the plates on the circulation desk. “Believe me, I can understand that. There were a few touch-and-go moments when I thought I might lose it, but I think we did Morty proud. I received nothing but compliments, and the only thing people complained about was the heat, and we don’t have anything to do with that. Get ove
r here, and let’s celebrate a job well done, and thank the heavens we don’t have to do this again for another year.”
Emma felt appreciative for the distraction. She, James, and Vicki finished off the funnel cakes and chatted about the day’s events. Then she called Morty because she’d promised to update him. His relief and pleasure over hearing that the festival had been a great success traveled through the phone to Emma, filling her with satisfaction and gratefulness. When she finished talking with Morty, she, James, and Vicki walked the grounds and the library while the remaining volunteers made sure the park was empty. At nearly ten p.m., Emma locked the rear door to the library and waved good-bye to Vicki. Then she sat on the back steps and stared at the empty lawn. James sat down beside her.
The evening air felt soupy. A sprinkle of lightning bugs flashed as they weaved across the grass, and a crescent moon peaked over the pine trees in the distance. Crickets eased out in the silence, making sure the coast was clear, and then chirped a summertime song. Emma’s shoulders sagged forward as she propped her elbows on her knees. James’ warmth felt strong and solid beside her. She leaned her head back and looked up at the stars.
“So…tomorrow,” she said, trying to push the words up past the tightness in her throat.
Rather than ask her what she was talking about, James innately understood. He reached for her hand and pressed it between both of his. “It normally happens around sunset or just after. There’s no definite time, but that seems to be the case more often than not.”
Emma closed her eyes and swallowed. James would be gone in less than a day. Gone. What had she been thinking, letting him convince her to lower the barricades around her heart? She had let hope loose inside her like a wild mustang on the prairie with no chance of catching it again. A tremble started in her stomach and then spread out like a shockwave. She dropped his hand and stood, feeling as though her knees had turned to sand.
“I’m going to take a walk, get some air.” She stepped off the back stoop and trudged across the grass with no destination in mind. Tears stung her eyes, and she clenched her jaw to keep the threatening sob at bay.
The Legend of James Grey Page 15
