John remains a safe harbor in an otherwise taxing life. Matthew Thatcher has since been released from jail, and I’ve done my best to ignore this fact. Jennifer has mentioned it once or twice, asked if I wanted to discuss it further, but I’d told her no, not right now when I felt I could handle it least. And then there were John’s parents who I still hadn’t seen again. John told me they’d come around, eventually, though I’m not sure I wanted in-laws who had to come around just to accept me. At least Dad and I were still talking on a semi-regular basis, and Angela and I had met twice for coffee, her entire attitude seeming to have changed with the start of college and her seeing a therapist.
“My therapist thinks I could have narcissistic and paranoid tendencies,” she’d told me over soy lattes.
“That might explain some things,” I’d said, not even trying to be rude and thankful her response was something like a shrug with nothing in her expression to denote annoyance.
“I haven’t had one drop of alcohol in the past month,” I tell Mom, partially to show her that I wasn’t in any danger of falling over the edge and partially wanting to remind her that I’m keeping an eye on her sobriety.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says, biting at her fingernail. “You know, Emma, things with Aiden and I aren’t going so well, and I guess I should tell you that I slipped the other night.”
My heart lurches. “You drank?”
“Just once!” She seems affronted.
“Once is too much,” I say, imagining her falling apart again.
“That’s what they say at the meetings… I get it. But, honey, after I had one of those little bottles of wine, I was fine. I didn’t need another one, and I didn’t sink into a depression.”
I sigh. “But if you and Aiden start having more problems, who’s to say you’ll be able to stop at the one?”
She shrugs. “I’ll try for your sake, and I don’t want to inflate Aiden’s ego, for him to think I’d go on a bender just because of him.”
“Then why don’t you just move out, Mom? You have a job and I’m guessing enough savings to put a down payment on something of your own.”
“You don’t understand. You’re grown up, and I don’t want to be alone. When your father left me…” she stops, looking down into her lap.
“I know,” I say, myself feeling jaded by Dad moving on, marrying Liz and keeping those children sheltered from me like I’m some snake in search of baby chicks. “And I realize you don’t see a lot of me, but our relationship is ten times better than it was when you were still drinking. A few months ago, you’d have been sitting here, more glued to your phone than me and with half a wine bottle already drained.”
“You’re right,” she says with a pensive smile, reaching out and taking my hand. “And I’m grateful for you. So very much.”
The hug between us is real… genuine. When we ease back into the couch and go back to watching Ellen, I wonder how real and genuine I’m being with John. I’d known about his drug use, not the specifics, but only that there had been a problem. And Instead of allowing him to tell me the entire story, I gave him an out. Was it so I’d feel better not having to tell him my entire story?
Maybe.
Maybe that was it.
But two people couldn’t marry one another when there were still secrets between them, could they? I sigh, not too loudly—I don’t want to worry my mother, so instead I laugh when Ellen has a dance off with Taylor Swift.
JOHN
“She’s abusive, to me and to our son. But everyone thinks I’m being a pussy about it,” the man I’d guess to be in his early thirties says to me at my desk in the legal aid clinic.
“I don’t think that.” I’ve been trying to ease his concerns about reporting his wife for the abuse he’s spent the last thirty minutes detailing to me.
“You’re supposed to say that,” he answers with a rueful expression. “The few people I’ve told have said to man up, and I would if not for my son. I don’t want him growing up thinking anyone should treat him that way.”
The man’s son, who is thirteen years old, is sitting in the waiting area, pretending to look at his phone while his eyes dart back and forth to his father.
“You need to report it,” I say, “especially if it involves your son. In fact, if you don’t, I’ll have to.”
“I figured as much. Tell me what to do then,” he says reluctantly.
I sit with him after a call to the police and promise that myself or someone else from the clinic will continue to advocate for him through the process, so long as the allegations can be proven and aren’t just being used as a way to get back at a spouse or strengthen custody claims in a nasty divorce. In the month that I’d been volunteering here, I’ve seen it all.
The man’s son gives his dad a quizzical look when he meets him in the waiting room. His father puts an assuring hand on his shoulder, and the two leave. I’m considering whether they’ll take my advice and stay with friends tonight or head home, back to the abusive wife and mother, when Shannon, a fellow volunteer and classmate comes up to my desk.
“You look like you could use a break,” she says.
“Do I look that bad?” I can’t help but to laugh. “If I thought pre-law was tough… man, I sure didn’t know what I was in for.”
“Preaching to the choir.” Shannon sits at the edge of my desk. “I’m lucky if I get six hours of sleep at night… on a good night. Usually it’s more like four or five.”
She’s a cute brunette girl, someone I might have taken more notice of before Emma, but the only thing I view her as is one of my compatriots in the legal trenches.
“How do we do it?” I ask, dragging my hands over my face. “And have any sort of social life?”
She shrugs. “I don’t. My last boyfriend was pre law too, but he decided against law school and moved to Miami to work for one of those resort hotels. If not for Tinder, I’d be screwed.”
Her ease in being so up front makes me blush. “Luckily I have a very understanding fiancé.”
“A fiancé?” She pushes her lower lip out as if considering what I’ve just told her. “Not too many of us pair off like that while we’re still in school, do we?”
“I guess not, but I wasn’t willing to let this one go.”
“And does this one have a name?” She lifts her brows, awaiting my response.
“Emma,” I say, wondering if she notices the dream-like quality I feel inside whenever I say her name. “She’s a design student at Seattle Central.”
“Oh, community college?” Shannon appraises me hard. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
She crosses her legs. “I just pegged you as the ivy league type. And ivy leaguers don’t usually date outside their species. In fact, I’m surprised you aren’t at Yale or Harvard. You come from money, right? And I’m guessing she doesn’t?”
“Yeah,” I say, getting what she’s inferring.
“So do I, even if it comes out of Omaha. I’d applied for Yale, but didn’t get in… bastards. But I’d always loved Sleepless in Seattle, so living here in the Emerald City isn’t bad, not at all.”
“I can’t really imagine living anywhere else,” I say. “I’ve never felt the need to leave the state just for an education that I can get here.”
“And that’s why I like you,” she says, hopping off of my desk. “You’re obviously not a snob like some of these other assholes around here.”
“Assholes?” I chuckle.
“You know, the ones who want to do their time in legal aid so they can say they understand the common man? But you think any of them would lower themselves to have any kind of social relationship with anyone outside their little bubbles? Hardly.”
Now I’m really laughing. “You’ve just described half of the people I’ve grown up with.”
“And probably your parents too, right?”
I nod. “Yes, definitely. They can’t even accept my engagement.” I’m not sure I should be sharing this wi
th her, but I’m tired, and the conversation is coming easily enough, so I go with it.
“Is that any surprise?” she asks with a quick eye roll. “I was dating a mechanic in Omaha, behind my parents’ backs of course, and when they found out, they freaked, then forbade it. Well, you can imagine I was pretty pissed, and I kept on seeing him.”
“Good for you,” I offer as she moves around my desk, standing over me.
“Yeah, but all of that drama, and then he turned out to be a cheating asshole.”
“Of course,” I say, for some reason finding it incredibly funny or just being so tired that I need a reason to laugh about anything.
Shannon puts her hand on my shoulder, laughing too, and once I pull myself out of it, I look up to see Emma, tense and staring at us.
“Hey, babe.” I’m taken off guard and stand up while Shannon thankfully pulls her hand from my shoulder.
“Hi,” Emma says as I speed around the desk and pull her into my arms.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, giving her a kiss I hope won’t embarrass her.
“I’ve missed you too,” she answers after our lips part, her eyes drifting toward Shannon.
“Hey, this is Shannon,” I say, stepping back and tilting my head toward the young woman. “Shannon, this is my fiancé, Emma.”
“Oh, the fiancé!” Shannon steps forward and puts her hand out to Emma. “John was just talking about you.”
“Good, I hope?” Emma asks, relaxing whatever strain I’d seen in her when she first arrived.
“All good,” Shannon says. “And I have a feeling he’d love nothing more than to get out of here with you.”
“Can you leave?” Emma asks me, biting at her lower lip.
“I just need to file these away.” I motion toward my desk and the stack of legal papers I need to enter into the system.
“I’ll do that,” Shannon says. “Not like I have a hot date or anything.”
“You sure? It’s just grunt work.”
“I like grunt work,” she says, sitting down, smiling and then flapping her hand at us to go.
“I owe you,” I say and then put my hand around Emma’s waist.
“Nice to meet you,” Emma says as we turn to leave.
“You too,” Shannon calls after us.
“She was nice,” Emma says after I’ve pulled my jacket on and we’re out in the chilly, October air.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I reply, hoping to God Emma didn’t get the wrong idea about her touching my shoulder. “She and I were commiserating at our lot in life as lowly law school students.”
“I’d hardly call that lowly,” Emma says, as if offended at my assessment of myself.
“It can feel like it sometimes. Our professors can be brutal, but that’s good… you can’t go into law with a thin skin.”
“You’re going to be an amazing lawyer.”
“Speaking of amazing… I wasn’t expecting you. You take the bus all the way up here?”
“A couple of streetcars too.” She smiles. “I was over at my Mom’s, and she’d offered to drive me, but I could tell she’d had a bad week and just wanted to relax.”
“And what about your week, Emma? I feel like you and I have only had a couple of hours together in the past seven days.”
“That’s because we have,” she says as I unlock the passenger door for her.
“I’d quit the legal clinic if I could,” I offer once we’re both inside and I’m pulling out of the parking lot. “I made a six-month commitment, but after that, I can reassess, and—”
“John, I don’t want you to change your life for me. I’m busy too, and this is important for your career, so we’ll find the time, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, continually amazed by Emma’s ability to put us first in a way that respects both of our dreams. I’m sure Madison would have already had me quitting the legal clinic and turning my back on any other commitments just to attend whatever functions she deemed necessary.
But Emma isn’t like that. And yet I have to be sure not to take advantage, not to get complacent. A girl like Emma is a gift, one I don’t ever want to lose.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA
“Are you telling me you have an entire day off and I’m going to be stuck in classes and legal aid?” John says, holding my naked body underneath the covers of the bed we’ve been sharing for the better part of two months.
“I’m afraid I am.” I drag my finger along the line of his jaw and his perfectly manicured beard, down his strong neck and over a broad shoulder.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “So unfair when all I want to do is spend the entire day in bed with you.”
When he kisses me with a sensual slowness and drags his warm hand around the curve of my ass, I’m immediately drawn into a longing for him that hasn’t lessened after the many times we’ve been together. I easily position myself for him, an immediate wetness between my legs that turns him on to the point that he’s hard and inside of me before there are any further words between us.
What follows is a mix of yearning and release, our bodies so tightly woven together that I can’t help feeling that not only is John physically rooted inside of me but that his very psyche is commingling with mine. I’m not an overly spiritual person, but my experiences with him make me wonder, make me search for words to describe the indescribable.
Pretty amazing stuff for a weekday morning.
After our physical needs have been relieved, we curl up together like two kids in a tent, talking softly like we don’t want to wake up whomever might be outside. We are in our own little world.
“I think you should sleep in, just this once,” I say, looking at John’s tired eyes, made even more tired by the toll our physical and emotional closeness takes on our sleeping schedules.
“I can’t, babe.” He sighs and attempts to move toward the edge of the bed. “If I miss even one class, I’m going to feel so behind. And I’m sorry, damn sorry I can’t spend the day with you.”
“It’s okay. I told you last night that I understand your commitments, and besides I’m going to work on some stuff in the library and then meet Jennifer for lunch.”
“Well, that’s good. Why don’t you take my SUV for the day? Just drop me off at school, and I can get to the clinic on my own.”
“I don’t want you to have to do that. I’m used to the bus, and I’m not the best driver.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.” He kisses me on the forehead before getting up and allowing me a good long look at the masculine nakedness of his body.
“John, I really don’t think it’s—”
“What? A good idea? It’s a fine idea.” He moves back toward the bed, takes my hands and pulls. “Looks like you’re going to need to get ready with me in the shower, babe… to save time.”
“Of course,” I say, the smile on my lips as big as the one I can feel in my heart.
The house is quiet, as it is most mornings. Stephen heads out to work crazy early, and Denny’s erratic schedule makes it difficult to know when he’ll be home or not. If I thought John’s calendar was full, I could only imagine what it would be like to date Denny who was being gobbled up by med school.
When I drop John off at the university, I notice that girl, Shannon, waving at him as I’m driving off. In the rear view mirror, I can see her catching up with him, but I turn my eyes back to the road—I don’t want to start the day running anyone over. Other than a brief squeeze of jealously, I’m not any more worried than I was when I’d seen Shannon with her hand on John’s shoulder last night, laughing along with him about something that just might have gone over my head if I’d heard it. But I just can’t imagine John straying or being tempted to stray because I’m not—I couldn’t dream of it.
On my drive toward Seattle Central’s library, I do think about Mr. Thatcher. The connection I still share with him has nothing to do with romantic love, especially not now. Unlike him or Ike, John has shown me what real love is about, the g
ive and take that is necessary, the mutual respect and tending to the needs of one another. What I had with Mr. Thatcher feels like a lifetime ago, and yet he’s a part of my story.
“It’s so good to see you when we don’t have a million classes to deal with,” Jennifer says after we’re seated at the pizza place a few blocks from school.
“Let’s hope for more school-wide admin days off then, okay?”
“Sure, except we’d probably just drag ourselves to the library again like we did today. So much for a day off,” she says with a laugh.
“Just remind me I didn’t even make a dent in my homework today, and I’ll reconsider just staying home next time.”
“And here I thought Seattle Central was going to be a piece of cake, but I was wrong, way wrong.”
“It really is stressful, isn’t it?” With my elbows on the table, I drag my hands across the sides of my head and through my hair. “Not sure it compares to John’s schedule and all that volunteering he does at the legal aid place.”
“Wasn’t that just supposed to be a few hours a week?”
“If only! He might have signed up for that, but it’s become like a full-time job. I’m guessing Shannon sees him more than I do.”
“Shannon? Who’s Shannon?” Jennifer leans in, her eyes narrowing before growing wider.
I sigh. For as much as I’d told myself I had nothing to worry about, the cute law student is obviously on my mind. “She goes to school with John, and works at the legal aid clinic with him.”
“Okay… well, that’s to be expected, right? It’s not like every lawyer is a man.”
“Oh, I know, and I’m not suspicious or anything. It’s just that John is really handsome, and…” I shake my head, not wanting to finish the thought, not out loud or in my head.
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