by Olivia Miles
He was sitting on the steps leading up to the second floor apartments when Emily stepped into the vestibule. Judging from his presence, he hadn’t spent the day at the hospital as Lucy had chosen to do.
“How are you doing?” Emily asked as she approached.
He gave a tight smile in return. “Feel like going for a walk?”
Emily nodded. “Sure,” she said softly, waiting as he pulled himself up to standing and led her back out the door. Why couldn’t she have cleaned up a bit more at the bakery? She probably had flour in her hair. She slid him a glance and realized with a pang that he probably hadn’t noticed. Not necessarily a good thing, actually.
“Did you talk to my sister today?”
Emily nodded. “She told me your father was being moved into a private room. That’s good news.”
Scott glanced at her through hooded eyes. “It is. That was a close call last night.”
They walked east on Birch Street, past the white picket fences that lined the road. A dusting of cherry blossoms showered the pavement as they approached some of her favorite houses in Maple Woods—white colonials with black shutters dating back to the eighteenth century. She knew every owner of every house, and she had been in many of them. They were good people—kind people. People she couldn’t imagine leaving behind.
“There’s something I should tell you, Scott.” Her voice strained against the tightening in her chest.
He turned to her, his brow knitting. “What is it?”
“Do you remember the other night when you asked me if I ever considered doing something with my baking skills?” Scott nodded and she drew a sharp breath. “I wasn’t completely honest with you. The truth is that I actually applied to a culinary school in Boston. I got the acceptance letter yesterday.”
She lifted her eyes to his, watching as his expression brightened. “That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. His smile was broad and for a moment she felt herself get swept up in his excitement.
“But it’s in Boston,” she added, sobering.
He shrugged. “So?”
Emily stiffened. “So that’s two hours from here.”
“But it’s what you always wanted, Emily. It’s what I always wanted for you. To be able to live your dreams, to—”
“But we had dreams together then, Scott!”
His smile faded to a grim line. “Don’t make this about me, Emily,” he said.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach. So there it was. What a fool she had been.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said flatly, shifting her focus to the road. She knew he hadn’t promised her anything. He had made it clear since his first day back that his visit was temporary. He had a whole life in Seattle, after all. Had she really expected him to just give it all up?
She supposed she had.
“I haven’t made a decision yet so I’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything to your sister. I should be the one,” she said coolly. Her heart began to race with determination. She would go to that school. There was no reason not to anymore. To think she had almost given up the opportunity for Scott. She had thrown enough years away on him.
When they reached the park on Orchard Lane, Scott came to a stop. “Can we sit over there?” he asked, pointing to a wooden bench under a crab apple tree.
Heart sinking, Emily walked over to the bench. “Are you regretting last night?” she blurted before he’d even had a chance to sit down.
“What?” His brow furrowed as he ran a hand through his hair. “No, no.” He sat down heavily beside her, rubbing his hand over his jaw. She could hear the soft scratching of his skin over the faint call of blue jays. “Quite the opposite,” he said, his voice low and soft, and Emily felt her insides flutter.
Stay with me tonight. Stay with me forever.
Well, she had intended to do just that. Now it seemed he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. “So you don’t regret it?” She frowned. “I’m sorry, Scott. I don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t regret it. Last night was...amazing.” He huffed out a breath. “But that’s just the problem, Emily,” he continued.
Emily’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.
Scott turned to her, suddenly looking like he had aged ten years overnight. “Emily, I need to tell you something.” His voice was low, barely audible, and her breath locked in her chest.
“You’re scaring me.”
His stare penetrated hers, reaching the depth of her heart, pulling her toward him like a magnet. She couldn’t have torn her gaze from his if she wanted to.
“You always wondered why I broke things off with us.”
She nodded, unable to speak from the lump in her throat.
He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes before slowly lifting his gaze to hers once more. “There was a reason.”
“Okay,” Emily said, encouraging him through the pause. What was done was done. She had decided to forget their past and to focus instead on their future. Their present. They were adults now, and they had something—something real—she was sure of it! In the brief amount of time since Scott had returned to town, they had formed a connection, and after last night, they had formed a bond. It couldn’t be broken. Not like this. Not so quickly. Nothing he could say about that night twelve years ago could undo what they had now.
“Did anyone ever tell you the cause of your father’s death?”
Emily felt like her gut was being squeezed through a vice. “What does that have to do with anything?” she replied, hearing the hysterical pitch in her voice. She didn’t want to talk about her father’s death or imagine the brutal way in which he had died. She’d tried to push those images from her mind a long time ago—how dare he try and bring such pain to the surface? “Why are you bringing this up? Are you trying to upset me?”
“He died on one of my father’s job sites,” Scott said softly.
“I know that. Of course I know that!” Emily said sharply. She stared at him angrily. “What are you trying to tell me, Scott?”
Scott pulled his hand free of hers and raked his fingers through his hair. “They said it was human error, that he didn’t pull the brakes on the machinery before stepping down into the ditch.”
Well, thanks for reminding me. “Please stop,” she said over her pounding heart. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Her legs were shaking and she pushed on her knees with both hands to still them. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“It was human error, Emily, but it wasn’t his.”
Emily felt the blood drain from her face, and the world went quiet. She could hear nothing—not the birds in the trees, not the wind through the leaves, not the beating of her own heart.
“It was me, Emily,” Scott said.
She sat paralyzed, unable to move or even blink. Scott’s clenched jaw pulsed; his profile was hard and unyielding, betraying no emotion. The bastard couldn’t even look her in the eye.
“I don’t understand,” she said calmly, her stone-cold voice unfamiliar to her own ears, as if the sound was coming from someone else, somewhere far away. It echoed from a hollow place.
Scott turned to face her, his expression full of anguish. His bright blue eyes were full of regret, full of pain. Fear knotted in her stomach as she searched his face for understanding.
“It was me, Emily! I was the one! I was on that job site that morning, climbing on machinery no kid that age should be allowed near.”
She was frozen to the bench. “But the police—”
“The police were wrong, Emily! They didn’t have all the facts. My dad set the stage, he got me out of there. It was easy for them to just assume what he told them was correct. There was no evidence to the contrary.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was shrill. She reflex
ively pulled back on the bench, desperate to distance herself from him. From his words. “I don’t understand.”
“It was me, Emily! Me! I got in the way. I was climbing on the machine. I left it in gear before I climbed off, and...it rolled. It was an accident, but—” His voice broke on the last word. “I wasn’t even aware of what I did, Emily. I was a stupid little kid. But...I’m to blame for your father’s death.”
* * *
He had feared this moment for twelve long years. He had rehearsed his words, anticipated her reaction and played out every possible scenario until he was in a cold sweat. He hadn’t planned on this. He couldn’t have.
Emily sat on the bench, unmoving. Her creamy skin had paled to a ghostly white. She wasn’t crying or screaming or shouting that she hated him. She was just sitting there. Shaking.
Words he could deal with, but silence was something he was unprepared for. He watched her guardedly, waiting for her to speak, to do something. He ran his hands down his face; his head was pounding. What did she want from him? What did she want him to do? He would do anything in that moment if he knew it would make her feel better. He would get up and leave. He would take her into his arms.
He reached out a hand but she pushed it away before it could reach her. Her eyes were narrowed and sharp. “Don’t touch me.”
“Okay,” he said. He heaved a breath and tented his fingers on his lap.
“How long have you known?” she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her eyes were focused somewhere in the distance and he followed her gaze to a little bird pecking at a bruised and fallen apple.
“Since the night I left town.” He paused. “I was always fooling around on equipment, running around my father’s job sites. I never knew until my parents told me, until I heard them talking—I never knew the part I had played.”
“You were there that day.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“And you don’t remember?”
“All I remember is playing on the machines, hopping off. Then suddenly there was all this shouting, and next thing I knew my dad was grabbing me, telling me to get away.” He drew a sharp breath. “My last night in town, I overheard my parents arguing about it. When I confronted them, they told me. For nine years they’d kept me from knowing it had been my doing.”
“And you kept it from me for another twelve,” she murmured. “Is that why you left Maple Woods?”
Scott nodded as shame weighed heavily in his heart. “Yes.” He regarded her carefully before adding, “I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had. I thought it was better that way.”
“And now?” She turned a sharp gaze on him. Accusation flashed in her gray eyes.
He hadn’t been expecting that one. He searched for the right words, anything that might ease her pain. “I’m older now. I’ve had time to think. I couldn’t live with myself anymore.”
“Do you feel better now?”
Her words were a punch to the gut. “No.”
She held his eyes miserably, her expression withering as a tear released. She brushed it away quickly with a sniff, turning her attention back to the little bird. “Who else knows?”
“No one,” Scott began and then halted. “Except my parents. That’s why I stopped speaking to them. When they told me what had happened, what they had kept from me—” he glanced at her “—and you...I couldn’t forgive them.”
Emily jaw flinched but her profile held unwavering stoicism. “Not Lucy?”
“Not Lucy.” He drew a breath and reached into his pocket and handed her the folded check.
“What’s this?” Emily asked, taking it.
“It’s what your family should have had a long time ago,” Scott said quietly, watching as Emily unfolded the check and stared at the number.
Wordlessly, she handed it back to him. “I don’t want this.”
He scanned her face, frowning. “Emily, take it. It’s what your family deserved. It would have made your lives easier. Better.”
“Better. You think my life is better now, knowing this, knowing you kept this from me? What was this week all about, Scott? A way to ease your guilt? A way to make up for breaking my heart? A way to make up for—” Her voice cracked and she shook her head, lowering her eyes. Sitting at the end of the bench, she might as well have been sitting across the park or across the town. Across the country. He had never felt more helpless or more incapable of reaching out and just touching her.
“You have no idea how much I care about you, Emily,” he said with quiet force.
She shook her head furiously, releasing a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“Emily.” He was pleading now, and he didn’t care. “I mean it. Just tell me what you want me to do. Is there anything I can do?”
She nailed him with a look of scorn. Her tears had dried, her eyes reflecting something far worse than sadness. “Anything you can do?”
Her tone cut him deep. “It was a stupid question.”
She scowled. “You never should have come back.”
He swallowed hard. So there it was. Worst-case scenario. She hated him. Had he really ever expected anything different? His chest felt like lead as he nodded slowly, resigning himself to the consequences of his actions. “I’ll go. I’ll go tonight.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, her tone turning his breath to ice. She stood and walked calmly away without so much as a look back. His eyes never left her until she was completely out of sight. It was the last time he would ever see her and he had to hold on to her right up until the very last second.
Chapter Eleven
It was time to leave Maple Woods. For good this time. There were just a few more things to take care of and he could catch the red-eye to Seattle.
The sadness in Emily’s eyes was a memory he would have to live with forever, but he told himself it was better than leaving again without telling her. A niggling of doubt began to creep through his mind, causing his gut to stir uneasily. He had done the right thing, even if it had opened old wounds—hadn’t he? Emily deserved the truth. Mr. Porter deserved to have his family know that his death had not been a result of his own careless error.
Scott walked slowly through town, past Sweetie Pie and Lucy’s Place, past the town square where a few nights ago he and Emily had danced together. His mind filled with an image of Emily framed by the glow of the lights hanging from the trees, stepping toward him under the umbrella of the leaves, her lips curving into a smile as he took her in his arms and twirled her to the beat of the music.
He’d never forget that smile.
The lights were on in Lucy’s house, and he climbed the stairs to her front porch slowly, prolonging the moment when he would say goodbye to her again, when her opinion of him would change forever. If he didn’t say something to her, Emily surely would.
Before he could turn and run from his problems again, he forced himself to knock loudly on the door. He peered through the long window frame until his sister appeared. She hesitated when she saw him, drawing a breath before she approached the door.
“Good of you to come,” she said, struggling to meet his gaze.
Scott frowned. “How are you?”
Lucy looked around the room, seeming to try to hide from his question. “Not good, Scott.”
Of course she wasn’t good. He didn’t even know why he’d asked. “I’m sorry, Lucy. If there’s anything I can do—”
She snapped her eyes to his. “Are you going to stop by the hospital again? Dad’s awake, and I’m sure he’d appreciate a visit from his only son.”
From the briskness in her tone and the defensive lift of her chin, he suspected she already knew the answer. “I’m heading out of town tonight, actually.”
A bitter burst of laughter escaped from her lips. “Of
course you are.”
Scott ignored his sister’s biting tone and crossed into the living room. “We need to talk,” he said firmly. His blood felt thick and cold. There was no going back now.
Lucy hesitated, sensing the change in his mood. “What’s going on?” she asked, her brow furrowing. She looked tired and worn-down. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot and her face was pale and wan.
It killed him to do this to her but she had to know. Now. Before he left for good.
He motioned to the sofa near the window. “Can we sit down?”
Lucy bristled. “I have a lot to do before I get back to the hospital, Scott. Can this wait until after visiting hours, or will you already be halfway to Seattle by then?”
“This can’t wait.” He grimaced at the sharp edge to his voice, watching as his sister’s eyes darkened. Her brow furrowed as she took a seat at the edge of the sofa. She looked impatient and restless, and more than a little curious.
Scott averted his gaze from the handful of framed photos Lucy kept on the mantle, unable to look at the face of the man who had determined his path and who had selfishly put their family above all others. Too restless to sit, he gripped the back of a wing chair as his gut tensed with emotion. There was no time for sentimentalities now. It would only make this more difficult than it already was.
“Scott?” He looked down to meet her stricken face. “What is going on, Scott?”
Dragging this out wasn’t an option. “Do you really want to know the truth? Why I left all those years ago? Why I couldn’t forgive Dad?”
Lucy looked on the verge of tears. “Of course I do,” she said. “But—maybe I should let it go. What’s done is done. It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late,” Scott said sharply. He heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “It’s not too late,” he repeated more calmly. “We have to make things right when we still have the chance. And that’s what I’ve decided to do.”
