by Olivia Miles
It was a sweet story, nearly pleasant enough to make him forget the horrible part he had played in her young life. It gave him some hope to learn that there were glimmers of happiness in her childhood after all. “She baked every Sunday?”
“Every Sunday.” She smiled at the memory. Catching his stare, she smiled and shrugged. “Guess I associate pies with a feeling of comfort and safety. Sounds silly, I know.”
Scott swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on the fullness of her mouth, the slender frame of her shoulders as she hunched over her plate. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”
He cleared his throat. “My family could have learned a lot from yours. My dad was always at work and when we did eat together, there was no real laughter, no warmth.”
“Guess I should be happy you never brought me over for dinner, then,” Emily said, but through her smile Scott could sense the twinge of hurt and confusion.
He pressed his lips together, thinking of how cold his father had always been to Emily, how his mother would casually change the subject when Scott mentioned her. He’d asked to bring Emily to dinner once in the entire three years they dated, and his father had made it clear that she wasn’t welcome. At the time, he’d attributed it to snobbery on his parents’ part. Collins was a big name in town, an established name, and Emily was one of...Those poor Porters.
“My family wasn’t like yours, Em. You know that. You all had something. Love, joy. You knew each other.”
Emily tipped her head. “You didn’t know your parents?”
“Not one bit.”
Emily studied him thoughtfully. “I remember the time your father saw us walking down Main Street, holding hands.” She shook her head at the memory. “I swear, he turned white as a ghost.”
Scott scowled. “He barely said hello to us. Typical.”
“Well, Lucy’s been like the big sister I never had.” She gave him a wan smile.
Scott nodded. “Lucy’s great. But my parents... It was a reflection of them, not you, Emily.”
A shadow darkened her gray eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I was sorry to hear about your father’s condition.”
Scott stiffened, sobered by the shift in topic. “Thanks.”
“If you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m around.” She hesitated. “I...I understand.” Her eyes pleaded with his in a knowing connection.
“I appreciate that,” he said tightly. He hated that everyone in town knew why he was back. His father was dying; he couldn’t deny it any more than he could hide from it. It was a fact, and in a small town like Maple Woods, the truth had a way of seeping out and spreading like thick molasses. He grimaced to think of the secret he had only managed to harbor by leaving town all those years ago.
Nausea rose in his stomach as he sat in Emily’s presence. Even after everything he had done to her, she was still standing here, offering to be his friend. And he needed a friend, damn it. He needed a friend now more than ever.
The problem was that he wanted a hell of a lot more than friendship from Emily. He wanted everything he knew she could have given him if things had been different. But relationships couldn’t be founded on lies, and in twelve years he still hadn’t found a way to explain himself to her.
“It’s hard to lose a father,” she commented, her eyes once again warming with understanding and all at once Scott knew this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be near her.
Shame bit at him, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he did, he might tell her everything just to set himself free of the weight that he had carried with him for so long. Every word he spoke to her felt like a lie, but the truth was too unbearable to say aloud.
His hand inched across the table. Searching her soft gaze, he saw a kindness there that tugged at his chest. She was compassionate, sweet, but everyone had their limits.
She was watching him closely, her expression so pure, her eyes so trusting and sure, that he had to snatch his hand back before he did something he would later regret.
Finishing her last bite of crust, Emily’s lips twisted with mischief as she eyed the pie. “Since you’ve had thirds, I suppose I may as well have seconds....”
“You don’t want me eating alone.” Scott smiled.
“No, that would be rude....”
“And it would give you a reason to stay and chat a little longer—”
A shadow crossed over Emily’s face but when her lips curled into a slow smile, his heart soared. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much, actually.”
Not tonight, he decided as he placed another slice of pie on her plate. Tonight wasn’t the night to make up for the sins of his past. Tonight he was simply going to enjoy the present.
* * *
Julia was already home by the time Emily turned the key in the door, and she forced a sober expression as she stepped into the kitchen, where her sister was preparing a pot of tea.
“Want a cup?” Julia asked, barely sparing her a glance.
“I’d love one.” Emily slipped off her sandals while Julia stacked the teapot, two mugs and a plate of cookies on an old wooden tray and then followed her into the living room.
“You’re getting home late tonight,” Julia observed, carefully setting the tray on the coffee table—it rattled precariously from the weight and Emily reached out a hand to steady it. “Thanks.” Her sister settled back into the sofa and pulled a chenille throw on top of her pajama-clad legs. While the day had been warm with sunshine, a cool spring breeze filtered in through the cracked window. “If Lucy keeps working you this hard, you’re going to need to plan for early retirement.”
Emily smiled benignly and reached for the remote control. “I wonder what drama unfolded today,” she mused aloud, her tone ominous but laced with mock excitement. It didn’t feel good to skirt Julia’s comments. Her sister thought she was being worked to the bone, when really she had been enjoying a pleasant evening with Scott. There was plenty she would love to share, and she was sure that Julia would be thrilled to glean further insight into the elusive Scott Collins, but for some reason, she wasn’t ready for the spell to be broken just yet. It would seem like a betrayal in a way, to sit here talking about Scott when he was only twenty feet down the hall from where she sat. Besides, something about keeping the details of her visit with him to herself made it feel more special. Once she opened up to Julia, there was no telling what type of speculation and doubts her sister would inadvertently stir up. Not that there was anything to speculate about.
Emily pinched her lips and glanced sidelong at her sister. Beside her, Julia was happily munching on a cookie, her eyes wide as the opening credits of Passion’s Crest rolled. It was then that Emily realized she hadn’t even checked the mail yet today, and that for some reason she didn’t really want to. For today at least, she had everything she wanted right here in Maple Woods: a job she loved, her sister and the man she had loved for as long as she could remember.
As she stirred two lumps of sugar into her tea and cupped it in her hands, her stomach began to stir uneasily. She tried to force her concentration on the television and the gripping ups and downs of her favorite characters, but it was no use.
“Emily? Emily?” Startled, Emily turned to see Julia motioning to the remote next to Emily. “Are you going to fast forward through the commercials or make me sit here stuffing my face while I wait for the next scene?” She held up a cookie to drive her complaint home.
Emily chuckled, picked up the remote and did as she was told.
“I thought I smelled a pie when I walked in here tonight,” Julia said casually a few seconds later, her eyes shining. Emily looked away as her sister continued, “Since you weren’t at the bakery when I passed by, I thought maybe you had made some dessert for us tonight.” She held her gaze steady, her expression blank. “Guess I wasn’t the lucky recipient.”
A heavy pause fell over the room and Emily bit back a wave of frustration laced with amusement. Pursing her lips, she paused the screen just after the last commercial of the set and placed the remote control on the coffee table so she could give Julia her full attention. “If you knew I wasn’t at the bakery tonight, why did you make that comment when I came in the door?”
Julia shrugged and her lips curled with mischief. “It seemed easier than asking what the view is like from Scott’s window.”
Emily’s eyes flung open. After the shock had left her, she tossed her head back in laughter. “I can’t get anything past you,” she said ruefully, wagging a playful finger at her sister’s triumphant expression. “How’d you guess?”
“Guess? I heard.” Julia arched a brow. “The walls here are very thin, you know,” she said pointedly.
Discomfort tightened Emily’s chest at the thought of Scott still so close by. Lowering her voice and hoping Julia would follow her lead, she confessed, “Fine. I stopped by Scott’s room this evening.”
Julia’s grin lingered. “How’d that go?”
Emily shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”
“Doesn’t sound just fine to me.”
Emily sighed. She leaned back against the couch and blew on the steam rising up from her mug. “The truth is that it doesn’t matter how things went, Julia. The guy’s only passing through town. He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to stay any longer than he has to.”
“Unless he can be convinced otherwise.”
“Please,” she said, but despite her protestation, Emily couldn’t help but feel her hope becoming somewhat restored by Julia’s words. She pushed the thought aside immediately and locked her sister’s eyes. “This isn’t like our soap opera, Julia. This is Maple Woods, not Passion’s Crest. I’m not Marlene and Scott isn’t Rafe Turner. I can’t stir up some drama and twist things around to keep him here. Real life doesn’t work that way.”
Julia just tipped her head mildly, and said, “If that’s how you want it to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily shot back.
“Seems to me that you sat back and let Scott walk away from you all those years ago. And now you’re about to do it all over again.”
Emily’s temper flared. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? What Scott did to you was wrong, there’s no doubt about it, but I don’t remember you asking for his whereabouts, demanding an explanation or trying to understand why things didn’t work out. Seems to me you made it pretty easy for him then, and you’re making it just as easy now.”
Emily’s chest was heavy with the pounding of her heart and she set the cup of steaming tea down before her shaking hands caused it to spill. She turned to glare at her sister. “What do you suggest then, Julia? Last I checked, you were up in arms about the way Scott treated me, and you made sure he knew it last night, too. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Scott’s no angel, but you like him and you always have. You’ve never been good at opening your heart since Daddy died. Then when Scott let you down...”
“This isn’t about Dad,” Emily said sharply.
Julia stared at her, unconvinced. “I just think that if you want something enough, you have to go after it. Take the risk.”
Unbelievable. “And going over there tonight wasn’t a risk?” The pitch in her voice caused Emily to wince.
Julia paused. “I just don’t want to see you spend the next twelve years the way you’ve spent the last, that’s all.”
Oh, believe me, Emily thought with newfound resolve, I don’t plan to.
She stood and handed the remote control to Julia, ignoring her younger sister’s pleas to sit back down. “But we still don’t know if Brad’s the father!” she protested.
Lifting her chin, Emily excused herself to bed, denying the little part of her that really did want to know who had fathered Fleur’s baby—Brad, or his evil twin brother, Chad? The suspense was killing her, but she thickened her determination. It could wait.
As she passed by the stack of mail Julia must have brought in with her, she glanced through the contents halfheartedly—nope, nothing for her except bills—and then wandered back to her bedroom. The week had caught up with her, but it would not keep her awake. No, tonight she would dream, but not of girlish hopes or unfilled dreams. Tonight she would dream of the future. The one she could control and make her own. Even if Scott would never be a part of it.
Chapter Six
Julia’s words still haunted Emily the next morning as she walked down Main Street, holding an umbrella over her head as shelter from the morning drizzle. Leave it to her sister to voice every sinking sensation she had tried desperately to ignore for so many years of her life. Sometimes it was easier to put your head in the sand and keep going than to the face the truth. Even about yourself.
The soft glow illuminating from the Sweetie Pie Bakery was warm and inviting on this dreary day, and despite her equally drab mood, Emily felt herself perk up as she opened the door and stepped inside. The sweet scents of butter and sugar teased her as she shook out her umbrella. “Hello!” she called out.
“In the kitchen!” cried back Lucy’s familiar voice.
Emily propped her umbrella in the stand near the door and wiped her feet on the mat before heading back to the kitchen. Lucy’s face was flushed, her eyes bright, and Emily immediately noted it wasn’t from the heat of the oven.
“Is everything okay?” she asked gently, tilting her head in concern.
Lucy blinked a few times and managed a watery smile. “Sorry about this. It’s just...” She inhaled sharply, unable to finish her sentence.
Slowly, Emily retrieved her apron from the hook on the door, taking time in tying it around her waist. Lucy and Scott had always had a complicated relationship with their parents from what Emily knew, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love them. Mr. and Mrs. Collins rarely ever came into the diner or town, but the few times they did, Emily couldn’t help but notice the way Lucy fluttered around nervously, clearly hoping to meet her parents’ approval. She wanted them to be proud of her, even if she hadn’t chosen the path they had wanted for her.
“I stopped by my parents’ house last night to drop off a casserole,” Lucy explained, her back to Emily as she carefully set a pie on a cake pedestal. “My dad looked even worse than the night before.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Despite the hard edge to Mr. Collins and the standoffish, cold nature of his wife, Emily couldn’t wish any sorrow onto her friend. Or Scott.
“I’m afraid there might not be much time,” Lucy continued, and Emily frowned. “All the better that Scott came back when he did, though I’m not sure what good it’s done.” She hesitated, rubbing her brow. “At least I can know I tried.”
Emily nodded slowly, working up the courage to ask the burning question she had harbored for so long. It was one of Maple Woods’s greatest mysteries. “Why do you think he stayed away so long?”
Lucy shrugged heavily and shook her head. “Oh, who knows really.” She sighed, whisking some chocolate mousse. “I was out of the house and married with a kid when Scottie left. All I know is that he and my parents got in some huge fight that summer after he graduated from high school. I thought going off to college would help him calm down, let things blow over on both sides, but the distance only seemed to become permanent then. And he never came back.”
Emily narrowed her eyes in concentration as she added some heavy cream to a stainless steel bowl and whisked in a few teaspoons of confectioners’ sugar. She tried to connect the events, but to her frustration, she couldn’t make sense of them.
As the cream began to hold peaks, she mused, “Did your parents ever tell you what the disagreement was about?” Deep down she’d always assumed it was about her. Though Scott had never said
it, she’d known his parents hadn’t approved of their relationship. They’d wanted him to go to college and take over the family company. Not marry a girl whose father had used to work for them.
“No, never.” Lucy stopped stirring as a shadow crept over her face. “It was strange, actually. I tried to talk to them about it at first, but the more I pressed, the more firm they grew in their insistence that I stay out of it. I was so stunned by the intensity of their reaction that I never directly approached Scott about it, either.”
“And he never opened up?”
Lucy shook her head. “Nope. I always gently encouraged him to come home—God knows how much I missed him and wanted him back. Each time he turned down the suggestion, I knew that was my answer. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t gotten over whatever had happened between him and our parents.”
“Do you think he has now?”
Lucy’s brow pinched and she huffed, “No. I don’t. I had to practically beg him to come back to town and when he came to the house the other night, it was very clear he wasn’t ready to forgive them. A dying man, can you imagine?” Her eyes flashed on Emily’s, and Emily, startled, stopped whisking the cream. This was very odd, indeed.
“What did he say?” she murmured, trying to imagine the scene.
Lucy threw up her hands and a dollop of chocolate mousse splattered against a wall. “I couldn’t hear. It was muffled through the door and the next thing I knew Scott came flying down the stairs, telling me that I never should have made him come back, that it had just made everything worse.” She sighed, and Emily noticed her hand was trembling as she reached for a dishrag. “Maybe he was right.”
“He loves you,” Emily said, and Lucy granted her a brave smile.
“In his own way,” Lucy said with a bob of her head.
“How were your parents afterward?” Emily asked carefully, sensing Lucy was on the verge of tears.
