by Jan Thompson
Maybe she should cancel the 911 call for help.
Emmeline unlocked her bedroom door.
There he was, standing in her living room, Bart the intruder. At the end of an outstretched arm was a keychain with a key dangling on it.
“Your new van!” he wailed.
“Did you just enter my apartment without my permission?”
“I own this p-place.” Bart swayed. “You’re j-just a renter, Em-Emmeline.”
Emmeline skirted Bart and made her way to the front door. “You’re invading my privacy, Bart. Please leave now.”
“I’m d-dropping off the key. Is all, Em-Em-Emmeline.” He began to sing.
“You’re drunk.” Emmeline swung the front door open.
Bart lunged and grabbed her.
She screamed. And ran. And screamed.
She pounded on the nearest door.
Nobody responded.
She dashed to the next door.
No one there.
She glanced back.
There was Bart, standing at her door, pointing to the van and singing something off-key.
Emmeline ran down the driveway, tripped, and fell forward on the slope. She stretched out her palms to break her fall and slid chest down on the grimy, dirty driveway.
She scrambled to her feet and ran, quite aware that she had lost her right flip flop. Not going back.
She sprinted into the night down the street as Bart’s voice faded into the distance.
The next subdivision with little houses were up ahead. The roads were dark and empty. A dog barked from behind a chain-linked fence.
That one.
Instinctively, she headed for the house with the barking dog. She rang the doorbell, pounded on the door. Glanced behind her. Nobody around her but herself out here on the porch.
She reached into her pocket. Her cell phone was still there. She hit 911 again.
Her palms and knees burned.
The door cracked. A chain in her way.
“Help me!” Two words spurted out of Emmeline’s mouth.
“Do you have an ID?” The man asked.
“What?” Emmeline breathed in and out and tried to calm down. “I live in the apartments next door. Someone invaded my home. I escaped and ran here for help. I’ve called 911 twice. I need someplace safe to stay until the police comes. Help me.”
“I don’t see anyone chasing you.”
“He could be coming down the road right now. I don’t know. Help me!”
“Let me ask my wife.” The door slammed in her face.
Emmeline’s eyes darted back and forth. The dog was still barking. Maybe this was a bad idea. The dog could give away her location.
The door opened again. This time a woman in a housecoat greeted her with a shotgun pointed at her.
“I just called the police. They’ll be here in minutes. You can sit inside and wait.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Would you like some water?”
“Yes, please,” Emmeline answered into the double barrel inches from her face.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“C-consensual!” Bart repeated himself ad nauseam after he looked like he failed the breathalyzer test.
He staggered his way toward the Glynn County police officer taking his statement. “It w-was consensual.”
Sebastian clenched his fists in his cargo shorts pockets as he watched the scene before his eyes.
Behind Bart and the officer, Emmeline’s apartment door was wide open, revealing the small folding table and worn thrift-shop couch where they had found Bart. He had apparently returned to the apartment, and fallen asleep on the couch, leaving the door open for the police to enter when they arrived shortly thereafter.
Emmeline had called 911 twice, the first time from her own apartment here and the second time from the subdivision down the road. The neighbor with the shotgun had also called the police, for good measure.
The police had picked her up there at that subdivision, and brought her back to the apartment. The paramedics had arrived shortly afterwards. They’d probably thought something huge was happening.
No one had died, but this was big enough for Sebastian.
And he didn’t know how to deal with it.
He turned toward Emmeline sitting at the back of the open ambulance. The paramedics were putting a giant Band-Aid on her bleeding knees. She was staring at her skinned palms. Sebastian was sure they’d hurt in the morning.
He’d only been with Emmeline a week and a half but he’d come to care for her. This kind of situation made it harder for him to let her go. It bothered him that someone as sweet as Emmeline could be in such a predicament. It broke his heart.
Emmeline stood up and limped. “Do you want the blanket back?”
“No, you keep it.” The paramedic disposed of the gauze and iodine swabs.
“Thank you so much, Phil.” Emmeline’s voice was soft. “Say, next Wednesday night my church is having an outdoor Fire Pit Service. Might it be something you’d like to come to? I’ll play my harp and we’re going to sing and eat and talk about life and such.”
“Life and such?” The paramedic smiled.
“Life and such.” Emmeline nodded. “Seaside Chapel. Right next to Massengale Park.”
“I know where Seaside Chapel is.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I know some people going there.”
“Well, I hope you can make it next Wednesday night. Come for the potluck dinner—you don’t have to bring anything—and leave early if you have to get back to work.”
The paramedic shut the door. “Thanks for the invite, Miss O’Hanlon.”
“Emmeline.”
“Emmeline O’Hanlon. See you around.” The paramedic nodded to Sebastian who tried to be civil.
Sebastian shook his head. He didn’t understand Emmeline. At a time like this, how could she be thinking about inviting people to church?
Before Sebastian could say anything, the police officer who had been talking with Bart came toward them. He took a statement from Emmeline.
The whole time, Sebastian rubbed her shoulders as she shook.
“He said you let him in.” The officer swiped his iPad.
“No, sir. I did not. I was sleeping in my bed. I heard the front door open. He has the key. As you know, he’s the landlady’s son.”
Sebastian could feel Emmeline’s shoulders tense under his fingers.
“He has been entering my apartment without my permission,” Emmeline said. “This is the first time he’s drunk and in my apartment in the middle of the night.”
“So it makes a difference if day or night?” Sebastian bristled.
The officer glanced at him, and he decided not to say anymore.
But Sebastian knew then and there that he was going to get Emmeline out of this apartment complex.
As he listened to the rest of Emmeline’s statement, her description of the entire situation making him angrier and angrier.
He tried to shut up, but he couldn’t. “You cannot defend Bart, Em.”
“He’s drunk. He wasn’t aware of what he did.”
“He entered your apartment under the influence and scared you half to death. Then he slept on your couch until we came back.” Sebastian looked at the police officer for support. This time the officer didn’t respond. “She’s a single woman living alone. He’s been harassing her ever since she lived here.”
“Right now it’s just he said, she said,” the officer said. “There are no witnesses.”
“Because nobody came out of their apartments to help me.” Emmeline sniffled.
“I’ll file this and we’ll see if there’s enough evidence to press charges,” the officer said.
That seemed to satisfy Sebastian. Not entirely, but enough to wear the night. He had been sleeping soundly when his sister Skye called him. Apparently, in her panic, Emmeline had called Skye, forgetting that she was in Miami all week. Sebastian had sent her to fill in for hi
m at the Southern Florida Food Festival.
Skye called Sebastian, and he sped out of Sea Island at a hundred miles an hour.
When all was done, Sebastian led Emmeline back to her apartment. “Get your clothes and stuff. You’re not staying here tonight.”
“I have nowhere to go.”
“We’ll figure that out tomorrow. For now, how does a hotel sound?”
“I can’t—”
“Hush, Em.” They went inside her apartment.
The first thing Sebastian saw Emmeline pick up was her Celtic lap harp. She put it by the door. Then she went to her bedroom and closed it.
He sat on the couch and used his iPhone to find a hotel between Scrolls where Emmeline worked three days a week and his cottage on Sea Island. He heard the shower and then drawers opening and closing.
Emmeline came out of his bedroom, changed into jeans and tee-shirt, and rolling a suitcase with a pair of sandals tied to the handle.
Sebastian lifted the harp by the door. It was super light. He took the suitcase from Emmeline instead. “You get the harp.”
When Emmeline decided to lock the front door, Sebastian found it amusing.
“Not funny.” Emmeline nudged him.
“Oh, not funny at all.” They filed into the car, luggage and shoes and harp and all.
In the car Emmeline began to weep softly. She tried to hide it among the sniffles.
“I think I’m catching a cold,” she said.
Sure.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“No, Em. You didn’t wake me up. Skye did. I’m glad, truly. You should’ve called me right away instead of her.”
“She’s the closest friend I have on the island. I forgot she’s in Miami until Saturday.”
“You were under duress.”
She looked away.
Sebastian reached for her hand and held it. It was shaking again. “I’m going to pray for you now, Em. God has protected you and will continue to do so.”
She nodded.
“Remind me not to close my eyes since I’m driving.”
Emmeline chuckled.
There. It’s coming back.
He could hear it. That bubbling brook coming up to the surface. He wanted to see that joy again.
Slowly, Sebastian began to pray. “Father God, what a night we’ve had. Thank You for keeping Em safe from that piece of garbage—forgive me, Lord, for calling that piece of garbage a piece of garbage.”
Sigh. “Let me start over.”
He glanced at Emmeline as they passed some street lights. She didn’t look happy.
“You need to be serious when you pray, Seb. It’s very bad when you don’t respect God. Even Bart needs Jesus, you know? I feel sorry for him.”
“Did I hear that right?” Sebastian asked. “Seriously, Em?”
“I want him to know God and have a new life in Christ. He doesn’t have to live the way he has been. It’s not me he wants. It’s Jesus he needs.”
“I can’t believe you said that, Em. How can you be so forgiving to Bart? Who knows what he could’ve done had you not left the apartment? He was drunk!”
“Exactly. He had no idea what he was doing.”
“He could have done anything then.”
“We see things differently.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Sebastian gunned the gas pedal. “I’ve seen it before. Alcoholics and their angst. You never know what’s going to happen day to day.”
“I’m not sure if Bart is an alcoholic. He’s not drunk all the time. I don’t think we should assume things we don’t have proof of.”
“He could be a functional alcoholic. My parents—”
Oops.
Emmeline waited. Then: “Your parents? It’s not about Bart, is it? The situation tonight triggered some memories, didn’t it?”
Sebastian nodded. How much should he tell her? How much not to tell her?
He shouldn’t have said anything at all. He had told Talia about his parents and their untimely deaths. One alcoholic in the house was bad enough but he and Skye had had the misfortune of having two alcoholics for parents.
Talia had reacted with indifference. No pity. No sympathy.
He hadn’t told anyone else about his family save for his close friends, Matt Garnett and Ivan McMillan.
But Emmeline? He hardly knew her.
“Now I am really sorry I called Skye and she called you,” Emmeline said. “I should’ve called someone else.”
“Rafferty the court jester?” Sebastian wasn’t sure why that guy was the first person who came to his mind.
Emmeline’s bubbling laughter returned. Sebastian liked to hear it. Over and over.
She could do that the rest of his life…
What am I saying?
“I have friends from church, Seb. I could have called anyone from the Women’s Bible Study group from Olivia Gonzalez down the line of at least ten women who would have helped me. I don’t need Rafferty.”
“Or me.”
“No offense, but that’s right. I don’t need you. Truth be told, you don’t need me either, Seb. You only need Jesus. Don’t forget God.”
Don’t forget God.
“Got it. Here goes.” Sebastian paused. “Father God, we come to You with a grateful heart. You have protected Em tonight from danger and harm. I pray that You will heal her scrapes and bruises and let this episode tonight not linger in her beautiful life. Forgive us of our sins and lead us in Your everlasting way. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”
He thought that was pretty good until Emmeline started praying.
“And dear Lord Jesus, I pray for Bart. Please work in his life and show Your grace and mercy to him. Whatever is going on in his life, lead Him to You. For such a time as this You have placed me there in that apartment so I could maybe pray for Bart. He has no one. And I pray for his mother too, dear Betty in the nursing home. It must be difficult for Bart not to have anyone but a dying mother. She’s frail, Lord. Give her strength and comfort in her last days.”
Such is Emmeline.
Sebastian’s heart filled with guilt when she said her amen. He felt properly chastised for being selfish.
His mind went to their stage play for Talia. He had to stop this charade to free Emmeline from participating in something that she probably shouldn’t be in. He knew why she had agreed to his crazy proposal. It was his fault for having manipulated her into it. He had played into her desperation, her anguish over her lost brother.
He had taken advantage of her.
Forgive me, Lord. This has to end.
How?
Sebastian pulled into the valet parking at Blue Ocean Beach Villas.
“No way, Seb. I can’t afford this place.” Emmeline looked panicky in the entrance light shining through the windshield.
Sebastian felt her hand tensed in his.
She retracted it from his grasp.
“It’s on me,” Sebastian said. “After what you’ve gone through, you deserve to be pampered.”
“I’ll only be here for what?” Emmeline’s eyes were on the clock on the dashboard. “Four hours? Then I have to go to work.”
“After work I’ll take you back here and you can rest. Tomorrow you can decide where you can stay for the summer.”
“Only until the end of July.”
Only a month.
Sebastian felt a tug in his heart he hadn’t felt in—huh?
Forever.
Something bothered him that he couldn’t pin down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emmeline wasn’t sure what to think of Sebastian sticking to her like chewing gum on tennis shoes on a hot summer day. He had insisted on picking her up from Blue Ocean Beach Villas, and dropping her off at Scrolls where she worked on Thursdays. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get to work at the SISO studio on Friday, but she knew she didn’t want Sebastian following her everywhere.
“Just call me whenever you need to get somewhere.” His voi
ce seemed insistent. He kept his eyes on the road, but Emmeline could see that he was concerned.
“Don’t worry about me, Seb. I’m planning to get my bike from my apartment—”
“I don’t want you going back there.”
“Not alone. Avery’s giving me a ride.”
“Is that who you’re staying with for a few days?”
“She said I could stay through July. Is that a great friend or what?”
“God provides.”
“Yep. God provides.”
When Emmeline had emailed several friends from the Women’s Bible Study asking if she could stay with them, taking turns, until it was time for her to move to Athens, she hadn’t expected many to respond. Surprisingly, every single woman she emailed had asked her to stay with her rent-free.
Even the Pastor’s wife had offered her guest bedroom. However, if at all possible Emmeline didn’t want to stay at the Pastor’s house. She might have to explain for Olivia Gonzalez why she was going out with Sebastian when they were not in love with each other.
What’s this behavior then?
“I want to make sure you stay as far away from Bart as possible, and for that matter, Rafferty. And maybe even Jared.”
That behavior.
“I’ll be find, Seb. God will protect me. I’ll get my bike today and you won’t need to be my chauffeur.”
Sebastian looked insulted. “Is that all you think of me?”
“Be serious.” Emmeline moved her legs and flinched. “Ow.”
“Your knees hurt, don’t they?”
Emmeline nodded. She didn’t want to pull her skirt up to look at her knees in front of Sebastian. The skinned knees, bruised and bloody last night, weren’t feeling much better this morning.
“I’ll keep praying that God will heal you.”
“Thank you.” Emmeline’s fingers went to her skirt, trying to straighten out the creases. It was no use. She’d pulled the floral summer dress out of the dryer a day late. It was all wrinkled but in her haste last night, she had stuffed it into her suitcase, which put even more creases into it.
“You know you could borrow an iron from the hotel.” Sebastian slowed down his BMW.
“I wasn’t sure if it costs any money to do that. Didn’t want to put you out.” Emmeline reached for her tote bag at her feet as they approached the front entrance of Scrolls.
