Surviving Emma

by Jen Atkinson

  “Amazon,” Carter said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

  “Fine, you bring the Amazon foods, I’ll bring the Superfoods foods.” We couldn’t afford wifi or chocolate pretzels so really it all worked out.

  Carter turned his head until I could just see his lopsided grin, somehow not wavering from his boat pose. “Fine.”

  Carter

  I rolled the yellow bike with its crisp white seat next to the side of the Sunday’s cabin, just where it would be out of sight from the main road. I didn’t want to give it to Dakota until Emma returned home. Her face always became a mixture of fury and wonder when I gave Dakota a gift and I kind of loved it. I had just as much fun waiting for her reaction as I did Dakota’s.

  Keith howled from the inside of my car.

  “I’m coming,” I muttered into the wind. “You’re going to give us away, mutt.” Keith didn’t bark or make any type of noise as long as he had a companion. The minute he was left alone, though, he howled like a banshee. The last time I pulled someone over, I had to bring the dog with me to the car window so the man could hear me speak above his racket.

  Keith pranced around me as I knocked on Virgie’s door. Dakota flung the thing open and bent to her knees with her arms stretched out. Keith about knocked me over to get to her.

  “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed. “Keith’s a good boy. Yes, he is.” She stood and brushed off the knees of her blue leggings. The small hole in the knee made me take a mental note to ask her what size she wore.

  “Ready?”

  She grinned up at me. “Yep. Bye, Virg,” she called back into the house.

  “See you tomorrow, Stink.” Virgie’s voice called back.

  “Is Virgie busy today?” Usually the women met me at the door. Usually we had a five minute chat before she let me leave.

  “There’s a special episode of Mi madre es tu madre también on today. It’s Virgie’s new favorite and they’re playing back to back episodes. She can’t leave the TV room, not for anything. You understand.” She shrugged.

  “Oh sure, I understand. Did you want to stay and finish?”

  “No. I have something important to talk to you about.”

  “All right. What’s up?”

  She took Keith’s leash from me and we started back toward her house. “Next week at school, they’re doing this thing called donuts with dad. It’s brand new. Mabel’s mom is the new PTA president and she heard about a school in Jackson doing it.”

  “Jackson is a pretty cool place.” I held the door open for the sweet girl. Of course I’d go with her—if that’s what she wanted. I felt pretty honored that she thought it important enough to ask me.

  “Yeah.” She twisted her lips. “Well, she thought it would be fun to do that here. But I have a problem.” She tossed her backpack into the entryway and heaved out a sigh.

  “Come on,” I waved her toward the kitchen and pulled out the last bag of chocolate covered pretzels. “All families are different, Kotes. You know that. But you have lots of people who love you.” Including me.

  “I know,” she said, her forehead still wrinkled. “The problem is, I want to call Keith and see if he’ll come, but I’m afraid it’ll make Mama mad.”

  “Keith?”

  “My dad, not my dog.”

  “Right.” Okay—I read that wrong. But that didn’t change that I wanted her happy, even if my ego had to step down a notch. “Well, I think your mom loves you no matter what and she’d want you to talk to her about this.”

  “Yeah, but I think it’ll upset her. Maybe you could do it. She gets mad at you all the time.”

  I chortled out a snort. “Well, that’s true enough. But I still think you should be the one to tell her.” Besides, I didn’t know what to say. Her dad lived across the country. From what Emma had said, I didn’t think he’d hop on a plane to come for a donuts with dad event. Emma would know what to do. And she wouldn’t get mad—it may cause her some discomfort, but she wouldn’t get angry with Dakota.

  “I don’t know. I like the idea of you doing it.” She stole another pretzel from the bowl. “She gets mad at you, but then she gets over it. She doesn’t really do that with anyone else. Like she’s always mad a Taggart—he’s incorrigible, though.”

  Incorrigible? I’d never get over that. Still, she had a point. I nodded. “True. But then she never gets mad at you!” I pinched her side and she let out a loud squealing giggle.

  “True, but Mrs. Olson says there’s a first for everything.”

  I laughed, enjoying Dakota’s logic more than I should. Twenty-nine-years old and my best friend was a seven-year-old girl. Wouldn’t most men my age be jumping for joy that Tess didn’t want to split her attention between a child and the man she loved? But Dakota had this special way about her. She reiterated everything I knew logic or the world said I shouldn’t care about, but did.

  I watched as she grouped the remaining pretzels into two bodies, broken pieces and whole pieces. “Only a couple more,” I told her. “I’m going to start dinner.”

  “Okay.” She arranged the broken pieces into a large heart shape. I stole a broken fragment from the heart and popped it into my mouth. She beamed and moved another broken piece in its place. “Mama’s like these broken pretzels.”

  “Yeah?” I read the online instructions from the food show I’d watched last night, but listened as Dakota explained her advanced seven-year-old logic.

  “Yep. I heard her once tell Virgie that she’s broken. She said, broken and good for nothing. She thought I was sleeping. But I just had my eyes closed. I didn’t know what that meant. But I think I do now.”

  My brows pinched together and I stopped my busyness to sit at the table again. I could hear in my head Emma telling Virgie just those words. And this little girl tried after all this time to interpret them. “What do you think?”

  “I think it means that most people don’t see how special she is. Most people would want this one.” She held up a whole pretzel covered in chocolate. “But the broken pieces still taste good, they just aren’t as pretty.” She met my eyes, her expression serious. “Not that Mama isn’t pretty, because she is. But sometimes when she’s yelling at someone, I don’t think they see her prettiness.” She added to her broken pretzel artwork. “The broken pieces can be made into something even prettier than a pretzel twist.” She sat back to look at her artwork.

  I didn’t know what to say. Had her mind really just worked that out? I took another one of the pieces. “Well, you’re right. They do taste just as good.”

  “Most people would want to eat the whole pretzel, but you aren’t most people, Carter.” She looked down at the small gap I’d made in her heart, at the broken piece I’d chosen over the pile of whole pretzels beside it. “You’re special, too.”

  Carter

  I had learned to get creative with my dinner preparations. Dakota and Emma thought of me as some kind of Iron Chef and I didn’t want to disappoint. On tonight’s menu—homemade turkey pot pie. The guy on the cooking channel made it look easy. And it hadn’t been too difficult, not with the jarred gravy and frozen veggies I’d bought.

  Emma looked tired, but she seemed different—good different. Taggart had gone for the night. A friend had taken him into Jackson for the weekend. I couldn’t imagine that man having a friend, but I guess he did.

  “Did you notice the grass outside?” More shoots had broken through their snowy prison since I’d ordered the bicycle. I’d waited until we’d almost finished eating, but Dakota’s bike practically screamed at me from outside the cabin.

  “The grass?” One of Emma’s brows perked up.

  “Yeah, and the sidewalk.”

  “You can see it now,” Dakota said, scrapping her plate with her spoon.

  “Exactly! Hopefully spring is coming.”

  “And?” Emma sat back, arms crossed, her plate empty too.

  I felt some sort of strange, tingly success when they both left their plates clean. “And I’m
pretty sure that means we should celebrate.”

  Dakota clapped. “How? Ice cream?”

  “Wait here. I’ll show you.” Giddy, I ran outside into the chill and wheeled the yellow bike through Emma’s front door—something I would surely get yelled at for. The white wheels rolled smoothly into the kitchen and I watched for Kote’s reaction, but Emma’s too.

  Dakota’s mouth fell open. “No way!” She looked at Emma, who bit her lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Mom, a bike!” She flew from her spot at the table, but didn’t stop to touch the sunshine yellow metal or white handles. She didn’t even ring the pink bell attached at the front. She wrapped her small arms around me and pressed her face into my stomach. “Thank you, Carter,” her voice muffled into my shirt. She pulled away to admire the two-wheeled beauty. “I’m going to learn to ride a bike.”

  I peeked up from Dakota just in time to see a tear escape Emma. She swatted at it and sort of smiled at the two wheeled cycle in her kitchen.

  Dakota’s fingers ran along the white leather seat before finding her mother’s gaze and smiling. “Mama, can Carter take me to donuts with dad? It’s new this year.”

  My voice caught in my throat. She wanted me to go? What about asking her dad?

  Emma beamed down at Kotes and ran a hand over her cheek and under her chin. “Of course, baby.” More tears brimmed in her eyes. “You better take a seat,” she said, nodding toward the bike. “I’ll be right back.” She walked passed me, her smile gone, another tear falling, and then she disappeared around the corner.

  “Can I?” Dakota squirmed beside me.

  I held the bike steady. “Well, yeah.”

  She held to the handle bars and threw a leg around the bike, seating herself. It sat a little low. I’d have to raise the seat, but not much. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Good choice.”

  “Thank you. I channeled my inner Dakota.”

  She giggled. “Will you help me try it tomorrow?”

  “You got it.”

  Awkwardly, she shimmed her way off of the bicycle and took the handle bar from my hold. “Come on, Keith.” She called to the pup beneath the table. “I need to read to Keith. You should probably check on Mama.”

  I thought about the broken pretzel pieces that perceptive Dakota had changed into something beautiful. I did need to check on Emma. I’d upset her—again.

  “It’s so pretty,” she said, her tone hushed. “Thank you, Carter.”

  “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

  Dakota wheeled the bike into the living room and Keith followed after her.

  I took in a breath, mustering my bravery, and started down the hallway. I knew the dim room belonged to her—and that she sat somewhere inside of it. I could hear her heavy breaths and small sobs. “Emma,” I said, my voice soft and timid. I stepped into the room, my eyes adjusting to the dark. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—”

  “It’s fine.” She sat up on her bed and wiped her face dry.

  I sat next to her, the bed pressing in with my weight. “Well, I don’t have to go to this donut thing. I know I’m not her dad.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat, but her watery eyes met mine. She sniffled and said, “You are going.” Her gaze roved over my face in a slow and careful way. “You bought her a bike.”

  I didn’t say anything—what did she want me to say. Sorry? You’re welcome?

  Her shoulder brushed mine as we sat wordlessly staring at each other. And then she spoke. “Donuts with dad, March twenty-eighth. I don’t care if you have to quit your job, you will be there.”

  I’d planned to answer, to agree, but she leaned in and touched her lips to mine. This time I felt ready, though. I didn’t go into shock. Instead, I combed my fingers beneath her hair, cupping my hand around the back of her head and held her next to me. She didn’t pull away, and when I came up for air—just for a second—I realized she practically sat in my lap. I snaked my free arm around her back, her waist much too tiny, and resumed. I expected her to stop me, but she didn’t.

  “Mama!” Dakota called from down the hallway, her little feet galloping on the ground like a pony.

  It only took two seconds for Emma to pull away, slide herself onto the bed and shove me hard enough that I slipped to the floor. My butt smacked the hard ground and I frowned up at her. “Was that really necessary?”

  “Mama, I balanced!” Dakota slid into the bedroom doorway. “I sat on my bike and put my feet on the pedals and it didn’t fall over—well not for a second, anyway.

  Emma covered her mouth like I might have left evidence there and gasped beneath her fingers.

  “Come see! You too, Carter.” Dakota waved us on before taking off down the hall.

  At least she didn’t forget about me.

  Emma stood and I snatched her hand before she could walk out the door. “Hey,” I said, standing up. “We should talk. After Kotes goes to bed, I could stay—”

  “Why do you always say that?” She shook her fingers from mine and took a step away. “I can stay. I can stay.” She mocked my voice in a low gravelly tone that sounded nothing like me. “No, you cannot stay. You have to go.”

  “But Emma—”

  “Carter,” she said, cutting me off. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have.” She crammed her eyes shut. “I honestly can’t tell you why I did it—again. But it’s not as if I’m looking for a relationship, and you have a picture of a girl on your fridge, so you certainly aren’t.”

  “What? Tess? I told you that’s over.” Even as I said the words, I questioned them. Wasn’t I saving every extra penny—or at least I had been before I met the Sunday girls—in an attempt to give Tess something special, something to change her mind about family life?

  “It’s not over when her picture is still hanging up in your house,” she said, and without giving me a chance to respond she hurried from the room.

  Chapter 24

  Emma

  I had somehow managed to avoid Aiden Carter for more than forty-eight hours. Saturday, I snuck home early and even though he had a bag of chocolate pretzels and other mystery groceries in a sack, I made Dakota send him away, telling him I didn’t feel well. Sunday I sent a text.

  Monday came and I didn’t have time to worry over Carter. Somehow my massage time slots for the day were full. Jodi called Sunday night to tell me she’d booked appointments for the entire day—something that had yet to happen in my career. Poor Mr. Bear found himself stuck with the nine a.m. slot instead of his normal afternoon time. He booked the day of if he wanted more than his standing Thursday appointment—and normally that would have worked.

  I ran the dog to the station, knowing Carter wouldn’t be there yet. I left him with Andy, along with a note for Carter that asked him to tie the dog up at four o’clock and to leave Dakota at Virgie’s. I didn’t explain more—I merely added a busy day at the end of the note.

  At the Do or Dye, I looked over my scheduled appointments—Amy Hudson, Jack Garrett, Heidi Shuler, Will Hiser—who were these people? I had a booked schedule and only knew Mr. Bear. I hadn’t thought that possible in Dubois.

  I stepped out of my little room and held up the schedule. “Jodi, do you know any of these people? I haven’t met one of them.” Four new clients in one day? Maybe things were picking up. If I had a full schedule every day I could save money. We could move away—one day.

  “I went to school with Amy Hudson,” Jodi said, but she never took her eyes from Mrs. Colson’s head.

  “Huh, I’ve never met her.”

  “Well, you aren’t exactly friendly, Emma. You don’t know everyone in this town.” Her words were quick and snappy, but her tone strained from its normal irritability.

  “Fine,” I said. I understood my social life. I didn’t need Jodi telling me. I turned on my heels and went to prep for Mr. Bear.

  An hour and a half later I poked my head from the room again. “I’m cleaning up. Will you let me know when my next appointment arrives?”
r />   “You bet.” Jodi sat in her own styling chair, turquois ringlets falling around her face and onto her shoulders. She grinned—so odd—then, she spun the chair so she couldn’t see me any longer.

  Five minutes later she tapped on the door. “Your next appointment’s here.”

  “Thanks,” I called from my room. “I straightened my scrub top and dimmed the lights in my workroom. I planted a smile on my face and opened the door to meet Ms. Hudson. But I could only see Jodi. She stood in the background, watching me like I’d become the star on one of those reality TV shows she liked so much. And then Carter stepped into my view, right in front of me.

  My nerves lit up inside, but I ignored them. I peeked around Carter to see Jodi, who still watched us like a day-time soap, the only thing missing her bag of popcorn. “Where’s Amy?”

  “I’m Amy,” Carter said.

  I wrinkled my brow, trying to process what he meant.

  “And Jack and Will and Heidi.”

  An angry knot formed in my gut and my head started to burn. I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him into my workspace, slamming the door behind us and cutting off Jodi’s program. “What do you mean you’re Amy—and everyone else?”

  “I mean I booked four fake appointments to get a minute with you.”

  My right hand balled into a fist all on its own, the sweet memory of slamming it into his jaw blossomed in my mind. I wanted to feel that again. But Carter wrapped his hands around both of my wrists and held them to my side.

  “Don’t hit me.” He cocked one eyebrow, looking down at me. His hands locked mine in place at my sides. He stood so close, but I had no desire to kiss him, only pummel him.

  “Why not?” I snapped. “It’s proven to release stress, you taught me that.”

  “I’m taking you to Jackson for the day.”

  “No, you are not.”

  “I am. I already talked to Virgie and Jodi. Even Andy.”