by Katie Lane
“In the pantry,” Boone called back.
She must’ve found it because the dog shut up. A moment later, she yelled back out to Boone. “You want Sadie’s beef stroganoff or Raynelle’s macaroni and cheese? Oh, wait, there’s another container of Reba’s chicken and broccoli.”
“You don’t need to make me something to eat,” he called. “I’m fine.”
She ignored him. “Ice tea or beer? Never mind, you probably shouldn’t drink with the pain pill you just took.”
His eyes widened and he glanced at the sliding glass doors. She had been spying on him.
A few minutes later, Emma brought him a plate of chicken and broccoli casserole and a glass of iced tea. She set them down on the table next to him, and then disappeared back into the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a plate of beef stroganoff and a beer.
“I don’t believe I asked you to dinner,” he said.
“I didn’t ask you to dinner the other night either, but that didn’t stop you from eating my lasagna.” She took the opposite couch and set her beer on the table next to his tea. Romeo flopped down at her feet. Feeding the dog was the fastest way to his heart. Emma patted his head before she leaned up and grabbed the television remote off the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”
He started to say he didn’t want to watch anything. But then he realized if they didn’t watch television, Emma would want to talk. And there was nothing left to say—except for things he wasn’t quite ready to speak out loud.
“Anything but those teen romances you used to make me suffer through,” he said.
“Party pooper.” She flipped through the channels and finally landed on HGTV. While they ate, they watched an episode of a renovation show and placed bets on whether the couple was going to love it or list it.
“List it,” Boone said as he ate his chicken and broccoli. “That guy’s wife is a ballbuster and she’s not going to let them stay in that house regardless of what Hillary does to it.”
“I disagree. She said herself that she loves their neighborhood. When she sees the new baby’s room, she’s not going to be able to leave.”
Emma turned out to be right. The woman sobbed with tears of joy when she saw the baby’s room and they decided to stay in their house. When the show was over, they started watching the next episode. But before Hillary could get through her design plans, Boone fell asleep. When he woke up, the television was off and so were all the lights. He figured Emma had left . . . until he heard the soft breathing coming from the other couch.
In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never watched Emma sleep. She slept on her back with one hand flung over her head and the other resting on her stomach. A strand of hair fell over her face, each exhale of breath causing it to flutter. One leg dangled off the couch, and the other had a dog lying across it. Romeo had found a new best friend. Boone was jealous as hell.
He didn’t know how long he lay there watching Emma before his foot started to hurt. He sat up to take another pain pill and ended up knocking over the bottle and waking her.
She blinked and sat up. “Boone?”
“Sorry, I knocked over the bottle of painkillers.”
She searched for it in the dark and handed it to him. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
He was—both physically and emotionally. All he wanted was to be alone so he could suffer in private.
“Look,” he said. “I appreciate you staying, but you can go home now. I’m really fine.”
She hesitated for a long moment before she stood. “Okay. If you need anything, just call.”
He did need something. But what he needed, she no longer wanted to give. And he couldn’t change that. He waited until she was almost to the door before he spoke.
“Em?” When she turned around, he finally said what needed to be said. “The hardware store is yours.”
Her breath came out in a soft huff of air. “What?”
“The store is yours. I don’t want it anymore.”
She just stood there not saying a word, and he understood why. They had spent so much time fighting over the store that she couldn’t believe he would let it go. He did love the store, but it had never been what mattered to him the most. It had never been what he’d been fighting for.
Finally, Emma spoke. “Jolene came by with the rest of the Simple Book Club, didn’t she? She told you that I can’t qualify for a loan. So there’s no way I can buy you and our parents out. This is just a cruel joke to get back at me for pushing you off the roof.”
“It’s not a joke, Em. Jolene wasn’t here today. You can ask her. And if you can’t qualify for a loan, then after I sell my grandpa’s house, I’ll give you one and you can pay me back when you can.”
“But why?” she asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because our parents are right. It’s time we moved on. Since you love Simple so much, it makes more sense for me to do the moving.”
She stared at him through the darkness. “But where will you go?”
Boone didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that he wanted to live far, far away from Emma Johansen.
Chapter Thirteen
“Miss Johansen? Did you hear me?”
The question pulled Emma out of her thoughts, and she realized Cheyenne Daily was standing there waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “What did you say?”
Cheyenne glanced at the open shipping box on the counter. “I asked if there was something wrong with the new shipment of paintbrushes. You’ve been standing looking at them for a long time.”
Emma shook her head. “The paintbrushes are fine. My mind must’ve wandered. I thought we’d agreed that you can call me Emma.”
“We did, but my dad said since you’re my bosses I need to call you and Boone by your last names. He says it’s a sign of respect. He’s old-fashioned like that.”
“He’s right. It’s not old-fashioned to show respect to your bosses and elders. But since you’ve proven time and time again in the last few weeks that you respect me as your boss, I think it’s okay if you use my first name—maybe just not around your dad.”
Cheyenne grinned. “Deal . . . Emma.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Did you really try to kill Boone? Is that why he hasn’t been back to the store?”
Emma wasn’t surprised by the question. She knew the entire town was thinking the same thing. Emma Johansen had finally gotten rid of Boone Murphy by trying to kill him. But the truth was that she hadn’t been trying to kill him. She’d just been trying to save herself. If Boone had kissed her, she knew it would’ve caused the wall she’d built around her heart to crumble. And once the wall was down, her heart would be exposed once again. She knew she couldn’t survive history repeating itself.
Although it was repeating itself anyway.
Boone was leaving.
Emma had won. The store was hers. She didn’t have to endure any more bad dates. She didn’t have to get a loan. She didn’t have to do anything but accept the gift Boone had given her.
At first, she’d thought it was all a joke. Or that the painkillers he was taking for his ankle had made him say something he didn’t mean. She expected him to call the following day and say “Just kidding.” But he didn’t call the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. Nor did he come into work. She would’ve thought it was because of his injury. But according to town gossip, his ankle hadn’t kept him from doing things around his grandparents’ house, getting it ready to sell. She’d also heard that Boone had given his landlady notice.
It was exactly what Emma had wanted. She would no longer be awakened by his howling dog. She’d no longer look out her window to see him tossing the ball for Romeo or mowing the lawn without his shirt.
At work, she would no longer have to watch as he rang up a customer and remember how those strong fingers had felt on her body. No longer have to look into his eyes and
remember all the hours she’d spent lost in the beautiful meadow green. No longer have to hear his voice and remember him telling her that he’d love her forever.
She had believed him. Even after he’d left town, she’d believed that he still loved her and would come back. But he hadn’t come back. He hadn’t called or texted or emailed. By the time she’d left for Texas Tech, she was devastated. She walked around campus like a lovesick zombie who had no life force. She lost weight. Her grades plummeted. And so did her will to live. It was her mother who pulled her out of her lovesick funk. One day, Gina showed up at her dorm and gave Emma the wake-up call she needed.
“I lost three babies before I had you, Emma Lou Johansen. And I’m not going to lose another one to something as foolish as a broken heart. Love is tough. Get over it.”
So Emma had gotten over it. Or at least, made the effort. She started eating and doing her school work. She started dating Kenny Stapleton and going home on the weekends to work at the store. Slowly but surely, her heart started to heal.
Then Boone came home.
One day, he just waltzed into the store and tried to pick up where they’d left off. As if he hadn’t been gone for seven years. As if he hadn’t stomped all the life out of her heart. Any love she’d had left for him turned to pure hate. That hatred couldn’t help but spew out.
Which is how she’d ended up almost killing him.
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t try to kill Boone. It was an accident.” She picked up the box. “Now let’s get these paintbrushes stocked.”
Thankfully, Cheyenne didn’t push her for any more information about what had happened on the roof. She followed Emma to the paint section in silence. On the way, Emma explained how she wanted them displayed.
“I like to place the brushes according to size. Littlest first and bigger ones last.” She set the box down and looked at the disorganized display. “Boone, of course, just hangs them anywhere.” She started organizing the brushes. “He does the same thing with the hammers. And the screwdrivers. And the wrenches. It’s the most annoying thing ever. I mean how are people supposed to find what they want if things aren’t in order?”
“He says customers enjoy looking through the jumble,” Cheyenne said. “It makes them feel they have accomplished something when they finally find what they’re looking for.”
“Well, he’s wrong. No one likes to waste their time. Things are much simpler when they’re orderly.” Now that she had the racks organized like she wanted them, she started hanging the paintbrushes.
“I think my dad feels the same way.” Cheyenne picked up a paintbrush. “He thinks life should be all mapped out.” She hesitated. “But that didn’t work out so well for him. He had a plan. He was going to marry my mom and live happily ever after. But then my mom left and screwed up his plan. So what good did his planning do him?”
A huge lump formed in the pit of Emma’s stomach. Cheyenne was right. What good had planning ever done? None of Emma’s plans had ever worked out. As a kid, she’d planned to be a librarian. Now she worked in a hardware store. As a teenager, she’d planned to marry Boone. Then Boone had left. As an adult, she planned to find another man to love and marry . . . while she continued to work at the hardware store with Boone.
Because the sad truth was that she might hate Boone, but she didn’t want to live without him. The lump in her stomach moved up to her throat. And without warning, she burst into tears.
Cheyenne dropped the paintbrush she was holding and stared at her. “Oh, no . . . umm, are you okay, Emma? Stupid question, Cheyenne. Of course, she’s not okay. Do you want me to call someone? Boone?”
“No!” Emma tried to get a grip on her emotions, but they wouldn’t listen and the tears just kept coming. “I just n-n-need a m-m-minute.”
She hurried into the bathroom in the back room. Once the door was locked, she sat down on the toilet and sobbed into a wad of toilet paper. Just when she thought she’d cried herself out, she’d start crying again. The tears might’ve gone on indefinitely if a sharp knock hadn’t sounded at the door.
“Open the door, Emma.”
At the sound of Miss Gertie’s gruff voice, Emma’s tears dried up immediately. Even tears were afraid of the woman.
Emma jumped up from the toilet. “Just a minute, Miss Gertie.” She blew her nose in the wad of toilet paper, and then flushed it before she tried to repair her makeup in the mirror over the sink. It was a lost cause. Her mascara was smeared and her foundation streaked. She ended up just washing everything off. Which left her face looking blotchy and her eyes swollen. But her time was up.
“Emma Lou!”
She opened the door and pinned on a smile. “Hey, Miss Gertie. What brings you to the hardware store?”
“A call from Cheyenne. She said you were bawling your eyes out in the bathroom over unorganized paintbrushes.”
Cheyenne peeked around Miss Gertie. The young teenager looked completely distraught. Emma couldn’t blame her. No one wanted to deal with their boss having an emotional breakdown. “I’m sorry, Miss Johansen, but I was worried about you and didn’t know who else to call. You said you didn’t want me to call Mr. Murphy and my dad isn’t good with girl tears.”
“Most men aren’t,” Miss Gertie said. “You did the right thing, Cheyenne. Now you need to flip the closed sign over and then head on home. Don’t talk to any strangers on the way and lock your door when you get there.”
Cheyenne nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She hurried out of the back room, and a second later the front door bell jangled as she left. Emma was alone with Miss Gertie. The last thing she needed was a lecture from the old woman. Her nerves were already strung tight.
“You can go too, Miss Gertie,” she said. “I’m fine. It’s just that time of the month and you know how emotional women can get the first few days of their period.”
“So I guess this has nothing to do with you trying to kill Boone Murphy.”
“I didn’t try to kill Boone!” she snapped. Realizing who she was talking to, she quickly added a “ma’am.”
“Then how did he fall off the roof?”
The image of Boone’s shocked face when he fell over the edge of the roof flashed into her mind and the tears returned. She tried to blink them back, but they fell down her cheeks anyway. Finally, she sat down on a stool and gave up.
“I pushed him. I pushed him off the roof. But I wasn’t trying to kill him.” She swallowed hard. “Still, he could’ve died.” More tears leaked out, and Miss Gertie pulled a tissue out of the sleeve of her dress and handed it to her.
“Not likely,” Miss Gertie said. “Ornery men like Boone are hard to kill. I tried to run over Lucas one time when I saw him in town, but he jumped out of the way in the nick of time. He was much spryer back then.” She moved her walker to the side and sat down on the stool next to Emma.
For the first time, Emma realized Miss Gertie didn’t have Rhett Butler in the basket on front. “Where’s Butler?”
“I left him to guard the door of my room so Reba doesn’t know I’m gone. She’d throw a fit if she found out I took her car. She thinks I’m too old to drive.” Miss Gertie opened the tote bag that was in the walker basket and took out a bottle of Jim Beam and a pretty china teacup. She poured a splash of whiskey into the cup. Was the woman planning on getting drunk?
“Maybe I should take you home, Miss Gertie,” Emma said. “Reba and Val will be worried if they find you gone.”
“They’ll be fine. They know I have a mind of my own.” Miss Gertie held out the cup. “Here. Drink this.”
“I don’t really need—”
“Drink.”
Emma took the cup and drank.
The fiery liquor burned her throat, but when the cup was empty, she felt a warm glow in her stomach and the tears had stopped leaking from her eyes.
Miss Gertie refilled the cup, then screwed on the cap and put the bottle back in the bag. “Now tell me what Boone did to make you cry.”
She
took a quivery breath. “He gave me the store.”
Miss Gertie eyes lit up. “Ahh, so that boy does listen.”
“You told him to give me the store?”
“No, I told him it was time to move on. And it is. This game you two have been playing has gone on long enough. You need to clean the slate and start fresh.”
Emma took a sip of whiskey. “Boone’s leaving town. You can’t get a fresher start than that.”
Miss Gertie sighed. “Well, that’s a shame. This town can use good men like Boone. But it’s for the best. And now that Boone’s done his part of moving on, it’s your turn to do your part.”
“I already told him I was sorry for pushing him off the roof.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Miss Gertie’s normally hard, piercing eyes softened with compassion. “You need to forgive him, Emma. That story you concocted and told the entire town about you and Boone deciding it was for the best if you broke up before college never did fly with me. I saw the devastated young girl behind those fake smiles. When he came back to town, you decided to punish him for what he’d put you through. I get it. I did the same thing to Lucas when he came back. And hate is a horrible thing. It can twist love into hideous knots. It can also twist people. You’ve lost that sweet little girl who used to smile at everyone in town. You lost her to your hate. Now it’s time to get her back by forgiving Boone.”
The lump returned to Emma’s throat and she swallowed hard. “What if I don’t know how to forgive?”
Miss Gertie reached out and took her hand. “I’d start by not looking at Boone as the teenager who broke your heart but as the little boy who used to share his popsicles with you. I think you can find that little boy if you look hard enough. Once you do, he’ll help you find that little girl.”
Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “But even if we do find those kids, I can never get back together with him like you did with Lucas, Miss Gertie. I can never trust him not to hurt me again.”
Miss Gertie squeezed her hand. “Then forgive him and let him go, Emma. Let him go.”
