Emma slowed to a walk, hugging herself in an attempt to keep it together. Despite what happened between them last night, Emma was grateful Will was there.
By the time she reached the float, Will was standing on it, leaning over Granny Rose. “She’s alive and breathing, but I think she hit her head.”
Emma climbed up next to him, her own legs threatening to buckle.
“Don’t panic.” Will steadied Emma. “There’s blood, but her pulse is strong.”
Her grandmother was bent at the middle like a broken matchstick, her head on one wooden frame, knees over the other. Blood stained one shoulder of her blue windbreaker and the wood beneath her neck. Her white hair was in disarray.
“Granny, are you okay?” Emma placed her hands on her grandmother’s cheeks. Her skin was soft, yet chilled by the morning air, sprinkled with the scent of rose water and blood. She pulled off her thin pink jacket and draped it over Granny Rose’s torso.
“Don’t move her,” Will cautioned. “She may have injured her neck or back.”
“She needs an ambulance.” And it would take at least thirty minutes for one to arrive from Cloverdale. Emma felt sick.
“Your house is closer,” Will said. “Go. Call.”
She shook her head. “Run to my house. If she comes to, the sight of your face will upset her.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Will nodded. “But sit down, before you keel over, too.”
Emma’s knees folded beneath her quickly. “Hurry.”
The wait for the ambulance was excruciating. Emma kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation, holding Granny Rose’s cold hand, her gaze never leaving her face. Her grandmother looked peaceful, as if she was sleeping. Or not.
Terror vibrated through Emma’s body in convulsive tremors that kept her upright. All the while, her brain kept repeating: my fault, my fault, my fault. She’d never paint again. She’d never so much as try.
Will returned, keeping silent watch at the door.
A siren finally sounded in the distance. The louder it got, the more Emma felt as if the tension in her body would break her into pieces.
As the ambulance pulled in front of the barn, Granny Rose blinked her eyes open. “Emma? Where am I?”
Relief softened her grip on her grandmother’s hand. “You’re safe.”
Granny Rose squirmed.
“Stay still,” Emma ordered. “You’ve had a fall, and we need to make sure you’re all right before you move.”
Flynn and Slade appeared, right on time to finish working on the float. They surveyed the damage without a word. Will pulled them aside and explained what had happened.
Tracy showed up, took one look at Granny Rose’s blood and retreated to the door of the barn, crossing her arms and staring down the driveway.
The emergency crew seemed to take forever to amble over, asking for her grandmother’s name and a situation update. There were two men. One looked like he’d graduated early from high school and the other looked like he was ready for retirement. Both frowned when Emma couldn’t tell them how long Granny Rose had been lying there.
The older EMT did all the talking. “Rose, how many fingers am I holding up?”
“You’re giving me the Boy Scout pledge.”
Emma patted the back of her grandmother’s cold hand. He was indeed holding up three fingers.
“What year is it?”
Granny Rose told him.
“Who’s the president?”
Granny Rose answered correctly.
“Can you feel me squeezing your toes?”
“I think you’re impertinent. The last person to touch my tootsies was my husband.”
“But can you feel me squeezing?”
“Yes.” Granny Rose kicked out the foot he was holding. “I’d like to get up now. I’m not sure how I got here, but I’d like to start my day. I have a dress rehearsal of The Music Man before lunch.”
“Ma’am, I need you to hold still.”
“I said—”
“Ma’am, we’ll get you out of here as quickly as we can, but your safety is our first concern. I see nails and sharp wood splinters. You don’t want to be cut, do you?”
“No,” Granny Rose grumbled.
It took a few more minutes for them to determine her grandmother could be moved. They put a brace on her neck as a precaution before they lifted her onto a stretcher and loaded her into the back of the ambulance.
When Emma started to climb in with her, the older tech stopped her. “No one’s allowed to ride with us, ma’am.”
“But she’s my grandmother.”
“It’s policy. We’re taking her to the Healdsburg District Hospital. If you check in at the emergency room desk when you arrive, they’ll take you to her.”
They started an IV on Granny Rose and then drove off.
Emma turned around to face everyone and the devastation her grandmother had caused. Granny Rose had sabotaged the best chance for a stable future the town had.
“This is my fault. I should have heard her leave last night.” Somehow, Emma managed to hold her head up, but she couldn’t look at Will. “I’ve let you all down. Since the accident I’ve been of little use to anyone. And whenever I try to paint or sketch someone gets hurt. I hurt Tracy and I haven’t been able to take care of my grandmother. I don’t know who I am or where I fit in. I’m just so...lost.”
No one looked her in the eye.
Not even Will when he weakly tried to argue. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for something Rose did.”
Emma swallowed back tears. Tears would help no one. “But I do. The float is ruined. There’s no way we can recreate it in time for the festival.” She hauled in air. “A few weeks ago, I couldn’t believe anyone would feel so low they’d call themselves worthless. But that’s how I feel. Worthless.”
* * *
FLYNN KICKED AT a torn piece of cardboard. Slade stroked his gray tie.
Will registered the pain on Emma’s face, but it was a distant feeling. His chance to speak to the entire town and convince them that this new vision of Harmony Valley was good for everyone had been lost. Frustration built like a firestorm in his gut, burning away any hope he’d felt these past few weeks.
“We can rebuild,” Flynn said optimistically, righting a planter with a grapevine in it.
“No,” Will said. “There’s no point trying to fix anything. Rose demolished any hope we had.” The fire inside raged, demanding someone suffer as much as he was. He met Emma’s gaze. “It was all a dream, like one of those dandelion wishes kids make that never come true.”
Choking back a sob, Emma ran out of the barn.
“Dude, that’s harsh.” Flynn frowned.
The lid on Will’s temper blew. “I may be a control freak, but I’m a realist. I know when to cut my losses. I can’t fix this any more than I can fix Tracy.”
Tracy gasped and stalked out.
Will bit back a curse.
“I know this is a surprise, coming from me,” Slade said, “but I stand with Flynn. We can rebuild. But we’ll need to duct tape your mouth shut, because if you start in on me or Flynn, like you did with the girls, we’re gone.”
“What’s the point of rebuilding?” Will gestured to the destruction in front of him. “Tracy doesn’t want anything to do with the winery. Maybe it was stupid for me to think I could create a life for her here. Half the town hates the idea. How many more setbacks do we need before we realize this wasn’t meant to be? It’s time we turned our attention to developing our next app. We can brainstorm ideas this afternoon.” When Will didn’t feel as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.
He’d driven away the two women who were most important to him in the world. The only thing left to do was move on.
&nbs
p; * * *
“ROSE LOOKS GOOD,” Mildred said, wheeling her walker down the hospital hallway next to Emma and Agnes. “And she’s in good spirits.”
“She won’t be once she realizes they shaved off her hair in back,” Agnes said, touching her pixie cut. “She was awfully proud of that hair.”
“I bet we can get Phil to shave off the rest of it. Then Rose would look like one of those punk rockers.” Mildred paused to let an attendant with a wheelchair move past them.
“Even if she let Phil near her hair, she won’t be happy about it.” Agnes waved to a nurse behind a counter. “Nor will she be happy that we’re suspending her from the town council, at least until her doctor approves her for activity again.”
“Do you have to do that?” Emma asked. “It’s so important to her.”
Agnes nodded.
“Every time I think of her outside all night I feel sick.” If Emma had needed any more proof as to why she couldn’t have both an artist’s career and a family, she’d gotten it.
Mildred stopped wheeling and looked squarely at Emma. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, we’re to blame. We’ve seen the signs for some time, but we didn’t want to mention it to her or to your family.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Emma persisted. “She’s always been there for me and last night...last night Will walked me home and she didn’t like it. I knew she’d focused her fears on Will and still I let him walk me home.” Because she’d been hopeful that he’d change his mind. She should have known better.
“Ah.” Mildred chuckled. “So you’ve found a compromise after all.”
“We haven’t. At least, not like that. Will can’t forgive me for the accident.” Emma sighed.
“The question is, honey,” Mildred said, “can you forgive yourself? I’ve seen the way you mope around. Take it from me. Life is too short to carry remorse and regret.”
“I agree,” Agnes said. “If you wait for someone’s forgiveness to move on with your life, you might be waiting a long time. It’s what’s inside you that matters.”
Emma knew that what they said was true. It was convincing herself that was the hard part. “Enough about me. What about the float? Is there any way the council will let Will speak at the festival without it?”
“If we allowed him to speak at our festivities, we’d have to grant the microphone to anyone who wanted to speak about anything. He’s been given time at our council meetings. Fair is fair. Rules are meant to keep order. It’s bad enough Larry bent them at the Grand Marshal ceremony.” Agnes hugged Emma. “Even though I support Will’s efforts to revitalize Harmony Valley, if he can’t convince enough residents to stand with him, Larry will never vote his way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT WAS LATE when Emma flopped onto her bed at Granny Rose’s. Her grandmother was being kept overnight for observation in Healdsburg and her mother had come down from Sacramento to stay in the room with Granny.
That left Emma alone with her guilt. She’d messed up royally, starting with the accident and ending with Granny Rose being in the hospital.
After trying unsuccessfully to sleep for several hours, she dragged herself out of bed before dawn. Ping yawned, stretched, protested and then went back to sleep. Emma pulled on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and returned to the scene of her grandmother’s crime.
The float hadn’t been touched since they’d rescued Granny Rose. It was still a wreck. If she was going to make things right, she had to start here. She considered approaching Flynn, Slade and Tracy to help her, but it hadn’t been their inattentiveness that caused this disaster. No. Emma had to do this on her own.
Emma lifted the five-gallon planters off the trailer. That left the buildings they’d created with wood frames and cardboard. They’d had to special order enough cardboard to complete the float and only had one sheet left, so the salvaged float would need to be simple in design.
She climbed onto the platform and began tearing off the ripped cardboard. With the help of a crowbar, she pried off the two-by-fours that framed the buildings. It was hard work. By the time she was through, Emma regretted doing such a thorough job with the nail gun.
She stepped back and looked at what she had to work with. Tracy had painted rolling green hills on the bottom half of the plywood backdrop and a blue sky on the top half. There was only an inch left of the paint Tracy had used to depict the red brick buildings in town and nothing of the gray.
She’d need paint. And her sketch pencil.
Emma’s hands started to tremble. Her heart thudded. And her ears reverberated with the screech and rumble of a big diesel.
She curled her fingers into tight fists, forced herself to breathe slowly.
She could do this. It didn’t matter if it looked like a kindergartner painted the float. She had to do it.
* * *
“SO YOU’RE GIVING up.” Edwin leaned forward in his recliner to shake Will’s hand. The older man’s skin looked pale. His eyes weren’t their usual bright blue. Edwin glanced at Flynn, removing flags from the Harmony Valley map in the kitchen. “I had hoped... But you can still help. If you meet anyone looking to get off the beaten path, tell them about our town.”
“I’ll do that.” Although it was unlikely he’d find any takers in Silicon Valley, where making your next brilliant career move was more important than sitting with friends and watching the river go by.
“People tend to get lost in the day-to-day out there,” Edwin added.
Will had been lost in his own pain when the ambulance had taken Rose away, so much so he hadn’t gathered his partners for a brainstorming session. It wasn’t until the middle of the night, when he couldn’t sleep, that he’d recalled Emma’s words.
I’m worthless.
Her words had struck like a blow to the head, shuddering down his spine. Emma wasn’t worthless. She was intelligent and caring. She made people laugh. She made him laugh. She was talented. She had an artist’s touch.
And when she touched Will, he felt stronger and more alive. He loved the way she sighed when he nibbled her neck. He loved the way her eyes turned nearly black and slumberous when he kissed her deeply. He loved the determination that straightened her backbone when he told her what to do. That was probably why he ordered her around so much. He loved doing it. He loved...Emma.
Will slumped deeper into the couch, thrusting his fingers into his hair. Could he have screwed up his life any worse? He’d been so callous to her, so idiotic. There was no way she felt the same and no way she’d ever forgive him. He slumped farther, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey.” Flynn pulled a small canvas painting out from under the map. “I remember this.”
“Is that one of Emma’s?” Will stood, needing to touch something she had created. His biggest fear was to lose someone—or something, in the case of the float—for inexplicable reasons, and yet he’d thrown a chance at love away because he couldn’t forgive Emma for things beyond her control. His father was right. Accidents had no clear line of blame. And he’d realized his misperception too late.
“This is horrible.” Will forced levity into his tone as he looked at the painting and tried to forget the pain in Emma’s eyes. “You’ve got a big butt.”
“I was big boned,” Flynn said.
Will clasped his friend’s shoulder, needing an anchor. “And I was good at basketball.”
* * *
“HOW. IS ROSE?” Tracy stepped into the barn, one hand clenched tightly at her side.
Emma was happy to see her friend. It was late morning. She stood in front of the float, staring at it as if it was going to be her next great work of art.
As if. She’d been contemplating it for too long. There was no inspirational music playing in her head. Only the distant, disapproving rumble of a diesel engine.
She smiled gently at Tracy. “She’ll be all right. One more night in the hospital. Which is probably as much time as she can take with my mom.”
Tracy rolled her eyes sympathetically. They both knew how militant Emma’s mother could be. “I decided. To suck. It up. And be. Grand Marshal.”
“I’m sorry I got you into that. But I know you’ll do a great job.”
“Knock wood.” Tracy rapped on the barn door. “What are. You doing?”
Emma turned back to the float, clenching and unclenching her fingers as if they’d cramped. “I’m going to fix the float. Somehow.”
“But you can’t. Paint.”
Emma laughed, but it was an empty, sad sound. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Tracy walked inside and stood next to Emma. “I heard what. You said. About. Worthless.”
Emma fisted her hands tighter, knowing she deserved Tracy’s censure, but nonetheless feeling the stab of hurt.
“I agree,” Tracy said.
Emma imagined herself crumpling to the ground, beaten by life’s obstacles and the loss of her best friend. The smell of dirt and defeat were so sharp, so real, she was surprised she was still standing.
“No, no. I am. Worthless.” Tracy sucked in a breath, blew it out forcefully. “Too.”
“You’re not,” Emma whispered. “You’re not broken or disabled.”
“But—”
“I don’t care what anyone says. I know you.” She poked Tracy’s shoulder. “I see the anger when Will finishes your sentences. The joy when you paint. You aren’t broken. And I should know.” She laughed, this time bitterly. “I see the way you hide your laughter when Flynn and Will talk in movie quotes. I hear your frustration when the words don’t come fast enough. And I feel your pain when you hold words in rather than try to join a conversation. If anyone ever tells you you’re disabled, you tell them they don’t speak your language. You are not broken.”
Tracy grabbed Emma and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry. I’m a big B.”
“Me, too.” Emma knew Tracy wanted to say more, but she didn’t need to hear her friend’s words. Because Emma knew. She knew that today she’d finally had her apology accepted and forgiveness offered. Today was the day she’d been waiting for since the accident.
Dandelion Wishes Page 22
