by Hale, Beth
She went through the same routine as yesterday, this time choosing jeans and a cardinal red sweater. She twisted her hair into a braid and fixed it with a small, matching red ribbon.
Emma wandered back downstairs, deciding to do a little cleaning. Norah was not the type to sweep or dust, so she had a few days’ worth to work on. She pulled out her cleaning supplies, but the smell of lemon furniture polish had her fumbling the bucket. She quickly shoved it back in the closet and slammed the door.
Damn painful memories.
She heard someone knocking and checked her watch, wondering if Norah had caught an earlier flight. Even if, she wouldn’t knock.
She found James on the other side of the door. His blond hair looked messy, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. His bright green eyes warmed with relief when he saw her.
“Well, thank God. Now I can let him know you’re still breathing. I swear he’s called me once an hour all morning long.”
Emma motioned for him to come in out of the cold. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it on the back of a chair. He grabbed her hand before she could turn away. “Why have you shut him out?” he asked gently.
She just looked at him. “He didn’t tell you his story?”
“He did,” James acknowledged as he followed Emma to the kitchen. “He says you won’t believe him.”
“He’s right.”
“I can see where it might be hard for you. But maybe, if you’d stop and think about the—“
“I did think, James,” she interrupted quietly. “I thought about it all night before I went over there. I gave him the chance to tell me. He lied to me, to my face.” She sat in a chair and propped her chin on her fist.
He sat across from her. “He told me. He’s torn up over it, Emma; he’s hurting badly.”
“Oh, he’s hurting.” She could feel the tears
welling so she rubbed the heels of her hands against her
eyes. Damn it, she wouldn’t. “I guess you want me to
call him up, coo at him that all is forgiven.” She let
anger take over; it was better than crying. “If that’s what you came over for you can just leave.”
“Hold on.” He held up a hand. “Calm down. He asked me to come over and make sure you were all right. He’s frantic because he can’t reach you.”
“I don’t want to be reached.”
“Understandable. I’m just going to text him that I’ve seen you, spoken with you, and you’re OK. See?” He showed her the message and, when she nodded her approval, hit send. “Now, I want to talk to you.”
“James.”
“No, really. As in, I want you to tell me what happened. I want to hear your side.”
“Why? You’re his friend.”
“Yes, and I’d like to think I’m your friend as well. Friends are there for each other when they’re hurting.”
“You believe him.”
“I do. But I want you to tell me.”
Emma studied him thoughtfully. “OK. Are you hungry? I could fix you something while we talk.”
“Why don’t we go out instead?” he suggested. “There’s a lovely pub a few blocks down and it’s not too cold out. Let’s walk over; you look a bit pale, darling.”
She smiled a little. “You should’ve seen me before. I scared Norah away.”
He chuckled as they bundled up and began walking. She tucked her arm in his and let him lead the way.
“Jack says you left early the morning before,” he prompted her.
Emma cleared her throat. “Yeah, I had to get back to Norah. It was late, going on midnight, when Sarah just showed up.” She began telling him, as they weaved in and out of sidewalk traffic. Her voice trembled, her breath caught a time or two, but thankfully the tears that constantly threatened didn’t fall.
James kept quiet and when she fell silent, he nodded. “She’s a hard, horrible bitch, Emma. I want to tell you some things, as well.” They reached Baker’s and James led her inside. They were seated at a table by the window.
“I’ll have the fish chowder, please, and a water,” Emma told the waitress.
“Double burger, with chips. And a pint of Harp,” James decided. When they were alone again, he leaned closer. “Jack told me about your ex-husband. So, I know you’ve been hurt and that it’s hard for you to let go. I know. But I know Jack, too, and he wouldn’t cheat on you.”
Emma snorted.
“I’m serious. We’ve been friends since before we thought girls were fun. So I was there when he first tangled with Sarah. It was while he was doing his second play, Macbeth, I think it was.
“She was in it, as well, playing the mother. He came over one night, excited and reeking of sex. He told me they’d been running lines in her dressing room when she took off her dress and invited him to join her on the couch.”
“Of course, he did,” Emma muttered.
“Well, of course. Here was this beautiful-and
she is-talented woman, already a star, and she wanted
him. Had been watching him, longing for him, she told
him. She put stars in his eyes and hooks in his heart.”
“She was his first? Serious relationship, I mean,” Emma clarified.
“Yes. He made it a full twenty five years before he fell. And he fell hard. That play wrapped and they went on a holiday together for a week or so.”
Their food arrived and he took a healthy bite of his burger before continuing. “He was in the middle of rehearsals for something else when he found out she was sleeping with her co-star of the play she was working on.”
“So, he does know how it feels,” Emma commented.
James frowned. “He was devastated. He told her it was over, she cried and begged him to forgive her. So, they began again. The second time, it was the director of the film she was shooting. They were filming in Paris and some pictures came out in the tabloids. Sarah told Jack it was the romance of the city, the wine; it’d all gone to her head. She cried and he forgave her. She moved in with him. Your chowder’s going cold.”
“What? Oh, I’m not real hungry anyway.” She ate a few small bites and forgot about it again. “I’m guessing it still wasn’t smooth sailing after that?”
“The fickle whore can’t be true. For about a year, I guess, it seemed fine. Then rumors began about Sarah and her co-star’s understudy. She denied them until the understudy’s wife caught the two of them together.”
“Let me guess. She cried.”
“Got it in one.” James finished his burger and
waited while the waitress gave him a new pint. Emma
let her take the bowl of chowder away. “She told him
she would never do it again, that she’d be good. She talked him out of leaving her and into putting a ring on her finger.”
Emma goggled.
“Didn’t you know?” She shook her head.
“Well, anyway. I tried my damnedest to talk him out of it.”
“Why didn’t he listen?”
“He loved her, even then. Six months later, he flew to New York for a three week run of Redemption. He managed to fly back a couple of days early to surprise her. He found her in their bed with Andrew. An old school chum.”
Emma felt a small stab of sympathy. She knew how much it hurt. “What happened?”
“Jack was livid. He decked Andrew, tossed him out half naked. He and Sarah had a huge row. She threw lamps, slapped him. She told him it wasn’t over; she’d win him back again. He forcibly pulled the ring off her finger and told her she had one hour to pack her things. Anything that was left would be delivered to her new address.”
“Well.”
“Yes. And she tried crying, begging, but he wasn’t having it that time. They were through. He sold the ring and donated the money to a school theater. He bought a new bed.”
Well,” she said again.
“Press caught wind of it. Jack admitted to breaking the engagement; she insisted she did. She
can’t stand being thrown over and she was still lobbying hard to make him take her back. Andrew was smart; he didn’t comment at all.”
“That’s quite a story. And I hate it, really hate
it, that Jack suffered through it. But it doesn’t excuse
what he did.”
“I believe him. I know he didn’t sleep with her. He just wanted to spare you, Emma.”
“And Sarah? She just happened to drop by and found my nightie at Jack’s place, she planted her panties? Why would she do that? Just to get at me?”
“Partly. And because she wants him back.”
“Looks like she’s got him.”
James shook his head and they stood to leave. He paid the tab and took her arm again. “You’re being stubborn.”
Emma scowled at him. “Shove it. Just because he took her back over and over don’t mean he gets the same courtesy from me.” Temper and wind put color in her cheeks and her eyes blazed. “You weren’t there; you didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see the guilt in his eyes or the way he stammered when I help up those thongs.
“He played me, James. How can you be so sure he ain’t snowballin’ you, too?” She flung up an arm, hailed a cab. “I’m meeting Norah at the airport.”
James blew out his breath as he watched her speed away.
Chapter 27
Emma was sorting clothes the next afternoon when Norah came into the laundry room. “James is here to see you.”
“What now?” she muttered as she slammed the dryer door. Norah winced. “Sorry. Headache still not better?”
“No, and the jet lag isn’t helping much.” She sneezed twice. “Oh, God. I hope I’m not getting sick.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“I’ve got that tickle in my throat. You know what happens when I get that tickle in my throat,” Norah whined.
Emma rolled her eyes as they went into the living room. “You turn into a big baby.”
“That’s not nice,” Norah huffed. “I’m taking my tea and going back to bed. Nice to see you again, James.”
“You, as well.” He watched as Norah flounced up the stairs. “In a mood, is she?”
“We all are, I guess.”
“I’ve brought you your scarf; you left it in the pub yesterday.” He handed her the red and black plaid length of material.
“Thank you,” she told him politely.
“Ahh…I also wanted to apologize. I know I came off rather one sided about the situation.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. Well, to a point, I guess, sure. He’s my best mate after all. I like you, too, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. Really. I appreciate your concern,
and your friendship. But I’ve been through all this
before, so I know how to—“
“See, that’s it,” he interrupted her. “You’re not willing to even consider Jack is being honest because of before. Don’t punish him for something he didn’t do.”
“Did Jack send you over here again?”
“No. I really did come by to give you the scarf. Do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Will you at least think on what Jack said happened?” When Emma hesitated, he pressed forward. “He doesn’t know I told you about Sarah. And he doesn’t know I’m telling you this: He’s in love with you.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. “James.”
“It’s true. He loves you. And I can see in your eyes that you love him, too.”
Before Emma could respond, Norah stuck her head around the corner at the top of the stairs. “Emma,” she whimpered, “I’m sick. I sneezed again and now my nose is stuffy. Do you think we should call a doctor? Do I have fever? Is it flu?”
Emma sighed. “I’ll be right there. I can’t think right now,” she said to James. “I have to tend to Norah.”
“Will she be ok?”
“She’ll be fine if I don’t strangle her. She’s a God-awful patient.”
“I’ll call later, check on you two.” He grinned with sympathy when Norah called for her again. “Good luck.”
***
“Do you think its flu? I think its flu.”
“It’s not flu. You don’t have a fever and you had a flu shot, remember?”
“Maybe it’s the pig flu.”
Emma sighed. “It’s not swine flu,” she said, exasperated. “It’s probably just a touch of a little cold combined with jet lag.”
“You’re being mean to me,” Norah pouted.
“I am not.”
“Are, too.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Emma rolled her eyes. “What are you, two? Look, I’ve brought you tea and medicine.”
Norah eyed the pills suspiciously. “What kind of medicine?”
“Something to help the tickle in your throat.”
“Good.” She took the pills and swallowed them down with tea. She settled back on the pillows. “I can’t be sick. I’ve got that photo shoot and you know how red my nose gets when I’m sick.”
“They’re professionals. They can cover up the red.”
“When is it again?”
“Day after tomorrow. You’ll be fine by then.”
“Not if it’s flu,” Norah muttered darkly as she pulled the comforter up to her neck.
“It’s not the damn flu. Listen, why don’t you just rest for a while and I’ll come back up later to check on you.”
“Will you make me soup?”
“Sure.”
“Chicken noodle?”
“Yes.”
Norah nodded, satisfied for the moment. “Oh.
Can I have a bell, in case I need you before you come
back?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Emma warned her.
She scowled and flopped onto her side. Emma shook her head.
Emma was relieved she had everything on hand to make the soup. Norah would’ve bitched about being left alone if she’d had to go out. She was a major pain when she was sick.
As the chicken boiled and she chopped celery and onions, she thought about James’s revelation.
Did Jack love her?
No, she quickly decided. If he did, he wouldn’t have cheated and lied.
But, her heart whispered, what if he had just been trying to spare her?
No, her mind objected. If he loved her, respected her, he would’ve told her about Sarah’s visit without her having to ask. And, she thought, he’d been so in love with Sarah that he’d forgiven betrayal after betrayal. He’d probably always go back to her.
Emma’s heart broke a little more.
She rubbed her temples. She was so damn tired of being the one who was betrayed. And James. Jack had managed to convince him he was telling the truth. She felt a little sorry for him, but she was glad she wasn’t the only one Jack could deceive.
The soup was almost ready when her phone rang. She checked the caller ID. “Hello, James.”
“Hi. How’s the patient?”
“Horrible. She insists she has the flu. She’s demanded chicken noodle soup--which I’ve made--and more than likely won’t eat when I take it to her.”
James chuckled. “I feel sorry for you.”
“I feel sorry for myself.”
“And will you be having some soup, as well? I noticed you didn’t eat much yesterday and it looks like you’ve lost weight.”
“I haven’t been very hungry.”
“You have to eat. Otherwise, you’ll get sick and then who will take care of Norah?”
“God knows. I don’t know if anyone else could put up with her.”
James laughed again. “If I begged you nicely, would you come with me tomorrow and help me buy a birthday present for my sister? I’m terrible at choosing.”
“I don’t mind helping, but it really depends on Norah. I can’t leave her if she’s still feeling bad.”
“I understand. I’ll check with you tomorrow. If not then, another day. Elizab
eth’s birthday isn’t till next week. I’ve got to run; I’ve paperwork to finish.”
“Sounds good. ‘Bye.” Emma disconnected and ladled a bowl of soup. She added oyster crackers and a bottle of water to the tray and hoisted it up to take to Norah.
“I checked my temperature a second ago,” Norah informed her smugly. “It was ninety nine point eight.”
“That’s all right. It’s not really fever.”
“It could be pre-flu fever.”
Emma could feel her patience wearing thin. “Eat your soup. Then take more medicine,” she pointed to the bottle beside the bed, “and go to sleep.” “You’re being hateful again.”
“You ain’t seen hateful yet. Eat.”
“Ok, ok. You’re not going to eat with me?”
“I’m not hungry; I’ll eat in a bit. I’m going to
finish the laundry right now.”
Norah nodded and picked up her spoon. On her way back downstairs, Emma realized she hadn’t eaten all day. She detoured to the kitchen; she needed to eat to keep her strength up. She fixed a small bowl of soup and ate it standing.
She thought about Jack while she ate.
Chapter 28
Norah was still in bed two days later but admitted to feeling a little better. She didn’t want more chicken noodle soup, she announced, but vegetable. Emma gritted her teeth and made vegetable soup.
She thought about lacing it with Vicodin—anything to keep Norah quiet for a while--but didn’t have any.
Emma managed to get Norah up and to the photo shoot on time, much to her relief. “See, I told you your nose wouldn’t be red.”
“I guess.” Norah studied her reflection closely. “Or not too much, anyway.”
Emma sighed, grateful when the photographer said it was time to start.
“We’ll get some shots of you alone first, Ms. Jackson, then some with Roger.”
“Were the pictures from the set ok?” Emma wanted to know.
“They were terrific,” he enthused. “Made me want to see more.”
Emma smiled, pleased the movie was gaining interest. She sensed a blockbuster.
When they got home, Norah claimed exhaustion and flopped on the couch. Emma changed into red yoga pants and an old t-shirt. She had to do some cleaning; the dust was really beginning to bother her.
