Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “No, I think it’s probably time for a break,” Emma said. “Besides, I don’t really think there’s anything here that’s appropriate for a teenager.”

  The sales lady looked startled by the critique. “Oh, but all the girls her age shop here.”

  “That’s part of the problem,” Emma muttered. How could anyone think it was okay to let a teenage girl dress like she was going out to a club? “Thanks for your help, but we’ll be fine.”

  Left with no choice, the sales lady walked away. Emma turned her attention to the locked dressing room door.

  “Imogene, come on out now,” Emma said. “Let’s get some lunch, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  “I want to go home,” Imogene said from the other side.

  Emma could already picture having endless conversations with her sister through locked doors over the next few years. Eventually, she would only be able to recognize Imogene by the sound of her voice.

  “We will go home, but first we’re meeting my mother at the food court for lunch,” Emma said, determined to salvage this day, even if it meant plastic trays. “Surely they will have something you like. Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t have breakfast.”

  “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Imogene called back.

  Oh, baby, if only that were possible. “Well, I could leave you in this dressing room for the next four years. You’ll eventually turn eighteen, and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore. I have a feeling the authorities might object to that plan, though.”

  A presence stirred at her elbow, and Emma turned to see that Paige had appeared. “Genie, please come out,” Paige said. “I’m starving.”

  Not a moment later, there was a click and the dressing room door opened. Imogene’s eyes were red and her mouth pulled down. Still, she came out and took her little sister’s hand, leading Paige out of the store without a backward glance.

  Emma had forgotten Paige was her big sister’s kryptonite and wondered how often she could be used as leverage in further negotiations.

  Trudging through the mall after her sisters, Emma acknowledged that her mother had been right about the shopping trip. This was way too much stress for everyone involved. Feeling dejected and intimidated, she tried to tell herself it was only the first day. There were going to be bumpy patches as they moved forward. Something was bound to surface and trigger a meltdown at any moment.

  Emma’s first glimpse of the food court made her want to run the other way. Rows of boxed-like, fast food joints stretched as far as the eye could see. Fried everything, greasy hamburgers, wilted salads, and several places selling something passing for Asian, Mexican, and Italian cuisines. Still, she’d promised lunch and couldn’t back out now. The girls were already scanning the rows and deciding what they wanted. Emma gave them some money and told them to choose. She wouldn’t even voice her opinion on the quality of the food. As long as they ate something, it couldn’t be too horrible.

  They were sitting down to eat when her mother arrived. Mary Bertram carried a few shopping bags, which she deposited next to her chair with a happy sigh.

  “Looks like you did well,” Emma said.

  “I did.” Her mother smiled. “It’s been a while since I indulged in a real shopping trip, so it was fun.” She glanced around for their bags and frowned when she saw that Paige had two, while Imogene’s pile remained absent. “You didn’t see anything you liked, sweetie?”

  Imogene kept her gaze focused on her plate, though she’d hardly eaten a bite of the pizza she’d bought. “No.”

  Her mother’s gaze swung back toward Emma with a thousand questions. “We decided to take a break and try again later.”

  “Oh,” her mother said in bemusement.

  “You were right about a shopping expedition,” she said, not wanting to explain about the scene in the dressing room. “Too much stress.”

  “Emma and Genie were fighting over her scandalous clothes, and then Genie started crying,” Paige offered, as she popped a chicken nugget in her mouth.

  “Paige!” Imogene cried, dark eyes sparking with renewed anger. “You are so stupid!”

  “Hey…” Emma said sharply. “Not cool, Imogene. Don’t ever call your sister stupid.”

  Imogene huffed. “Sorry,” she said, though her expression remained mulish.

  Emma turned to Paige. “And don’t broadcast every embarrassing thing that goes on in our family,” she said. “Imogene might like some things to stay private.”

  Paige’s eyes went wide and teary as she looked down at her plate. “I’m sorry, Genie.”

  Great, everyone on this shopping exhibition might end up in tears at some point. Emma tried to bring order back.

  “Where did you ever learn the word scandalous anyway?” Emma wouldn’t have thought a 10-year-old would speak with such sophistication.

  “I read a lot,” Paige said.

  “She’s a brainiac,” Imogene offered. “Gets A’s in everything.”

  “Aren’t you an honor student, too?” Emma asked.

  “Yeah, but Paige is way smarter. It’s weird,” Imogene said, though there was no heat in the words.

  Paige didn’t seem bothered by the moniker, either. In fact, she forgot to be upset and grinned instead. “I like being weird.”

  Her youngest sister would either be the most beloved kid in school or the most tortured. Other kids weren’t always so tolerant of those who were “weird”. Although all the tech wizards who’d created computers and then social media had probably been called weird growing up, so Paige might be in good company.

  “Well, I’m sorry you had such a rough time,” Emma’s mother said. “It can be hard to find just the right thing. I still struggle when I’m shopping, too.”

  “You do?” Imogene asked, as if it had never occurred to her that adults had fashion problems.

  Mary Bertram smiled. “Sure, but mostly it’s because my hips have expanded over the years. I don’t have a cute figure like you.”

  “Oh, Imogene has one all right,” Emma muttered, thinking of the extra-mini dress Imogene had tried on. “And she wanted to display it for every horny teenage boy to see.”

  “I told you, everyone wears stuff like that,” Imogene said, rolling her eyes.

  Emma could see this fight would be ongoing, probably until Imogene moved out of the house. “I don’t really care what everyone else is wearing.”

  “Well, I…” Imogene’s gaze suddenly shifted over Emma’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes widened, and a smile bloomed on her face. “Oh my gosh!”

  She jumped up from the table, and Emma turned in her seat to see Reece Casings threading his way through the tables toward them. He wore a steel gray suit that emphasized his long, lean, frame and wide put-your-head-on-my-shoulders. Her mouth began to water.

  “Uncle Reece!” Imogene threw her arms around him, like she’d been awaiting a rescue from an evil stepmother…or half-sister in her case. “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned down at her. “A little bird told me I might find you at the food court.” His gaze shifted toward Paige.

  Emma twisted to stare at her youngest sister. “You called him?”

  Paige gave a little shrug. “Everyone was so upset, and Uncle Reece said if we ever needed rescuing, he’d come running.”

  “When did he say that?” He hadn’t done it within her hearing.

  “Last night, before he left.”

  Of course he had. Emma burned with humiliation, knowing it had taken less than a day before the girls called in the cavalry. At least, she told herself the newfound warmth was the result of embarrassment.

  Reece finally reached their table. He gathered Paige close for a hug. “So, what’s for lunch?” He pulled another chair over from a nearby table and sat down. Of course, he placed it right next to Emma, which meant the entire length of his leg brushed against hers.

  Emma gritted her teeth and shifted away. “I’m not sure anything in this choose-your-meal-roulett
e qualifies as actual food.”

  “Ah, you’re a food snob,” Reece drawled.

  “I’m a chef, of course I’m a food snob,” Emma returned. “I actually work very hard to create a menu that is palatable and didn’t start out the day being pulled from a freezer.”

  “So you won’t mind if I eat some of your…” Reece frowned as he looked at her plate. “What is that?”

  “It’s supposed to be orange chicken and lo mein noodles.”

  “Sounds delicious.” So saying, he picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. Emma watched with irrational fascination as the utensil passed his lips, and then his jaw worked as he began to chew. “Mmm…not bad.”

  Emma knew eating could be a sensual experience, but never had the act of someone taking a bite turned her into a quivering mass of want.

  He stabbed another piece of chicken and held it out. “Here, your turn again.”

  No way would she put that fork to her lips now. She was liable to combust from sensory overload. Just being this close to him made her half crazy.

  “Finish it if you want. I’m not very hungry.”

  Reece seemed happy to polish off her plate. He also didn’t seem unsettled or bothered by their proximity in the least. Emma knew she’d gotten a reaction last night. Perhaps he’d managed to get the attraction under control, though.

  Which was so unfair.

  Also unfair was the ease he had with her sisters. The girls lit up under his attention, like flowers lifting their petals to the sun. He teased, and they laughed. He directed, and they followed without complaint, especially when it came to Imogene. The difference in her behavior when Reece graced them with his presence was astounding. She was like another child completely.

  “So what was the emergency?” Reece asked between bites. “Paige sounded a bit desperate on the phone. She said there was arguing and hysterical crying.”

  Paige lifted her drink. “Emma and Genie were fighting about—”

  Emma shoved the straw in the little girl’s mouth before she could finish the blow-by-blow again. “What did we just talk about, Paige?”

  Paige spat the straw out. “But we have to tell Uncle Reece! How else can he fix it?”

  Reece watched them both with narrowed eyes. “Yes, please tell me what happened so I can help.”

  “There are some things even you can’t fix, Uncle Reece,” Emma said.

  He might be a great attorney and a devoted pseudo uncle, but even he couldn’t raise the dead, and nothing short of a resurrection would solve the real problem.

  “Imogene and I had a little disagreement about her wardrobe for school, but it’s done now,” Emma said. “We’re going to find a store that doesn’t try to dress teenage girls as hookers.”

  Imogene’s eyes were going to permanently stay stuck back in her skull if she kept rolling them like that. “Oh my gosh, overreact much? The skirt wasn’t that short.”

  “Honey, you were a few inches away from flashing your goodies for all the world to see,” Emma said, deciding that she needed to buy her mother a big, expensive gift while they were here. Mary Bertram should be awarded a Medal of Honor for living through the teenage years. Emma knew she would need one by the time Imogene went off to college.

  Reece leaned closer to Emma, forcing her to clench her fists so as not to touch him. “Were the clothes that bad?”

  “I’ve seen less material at a strip show,” she managed to return.

  “How often do you frequent strip shows, Miss Bertram?” he asked, like he was questioning her on the witness stand.

  She couldn’t help but chuckle at the taunt. “I’m a regular customer actually.”

  An answering grin pulled at his lips. “Maybe I should change professions then.”

  “You’d probably make a fortune,” she said before she could stop the words. Immediately, Emma knew she’d done the wrong thing. His eyes darkened, and then his gaze dipped down to her lips.

  “Would you show up and stuff dollar bills in my G-string?” Reece asked, casually, despite the heat in his dark eyes.

  Emma’s entire body heated. She cursed the errant sense of humor that had made her think she could flirt with Reece Casings and not get scorched.

  Face flaming and pulse racing like a rocket breaking the sound barrier, Emma stood. “Everybody done?” She began gathering the trays. “We should finish shopping.”

  Her mother and sisters stood. Reece took more time to gain his feet. He shook his head and scrubbed a hand across his mouth. Then he grabbed the trays and carried them to the garbage can.

  Her mother watched his retreating back with interest. “What was going on with you two?” She switched her attention to Emma. “Do I need to break out the hose and cool you guys off?”

  “No,” Emma muttered, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. Mary Bertram was one of the most perceptive women on the planet. She’d sniff out an attraction in a heartbeat. “We were just talking.”

  “I wish just talking with a man would put that glow in my cheeks,” her mother said, lips curving upward.

  Emma ignored the comment and instead grabbed her purse. “Which store should we try next, girls?” She pointed a finger at Imogene. “And no, we’re not going back to the last one so don’t start.”

  Imogene pursed her lips, but thankfully didn’t argue.

  Then Reece returned, and Emma noticed he was careful not to look at her. “I’m at your command.”

  “You’re not thinking of going shopping with us, are you?” Emma asked in horror. She would never be able to handle his prolonged presence.

  “I’m already here,” Reece said, with a shrug. “Besides, it sounds like you were having trouble. Maybe a male perspective would help.”

  Emma couldn’t believe it. “You want to hang around while they try on clothes? Won’t that damage your fragile male psyche? Men hate shopping, right?”

  “It’s not high on my list of things to do, but for the girls’ sake, I will man up and do my duty.”

  Imogene and Paige both applauded the idea, which meant Emma was outvoted. She couldn’t refuse to let him come, especially not when he’d left work in order to leap to their rescue.

  Her mother took Paige’s hand as they headed out of the food court. Imogene glommed on to Reece, while Emma brought up the rear, reflecting that once more she’d been left alone. Seemed nothing changed when it came to her place in the family dynamic.

  Emma Bertram…always alone, never quite fitting in anywhere.

  Chapter 7

  On Sunday, Emma once more unearthed her faithful, little black dress and got dressed for church. Sitting in a service would not have been her first choice for activities, but Paige had insisted. The family never missed, she’d said.

  Over the years, Emma’s spiritual life had regressed. The habit had been ingrained as a child, but after the divorce, she’d struggled with singing praises to a God who had let her family disintegrate. Once on her own, she’d only gone to church on significant holidays like Christmas and Easter.

  Once dressed, Emma went to the mirror. Her nose wrinkled. She really should have bought clothes for herself at the mall the other day. She couldn’t wear the black dress every time she went out. Right now, there weren’t any other options, however.

  A glance at the clock showed they were going to be late if they didn’t hustle. Emma hurried out of her room. She found Paige sitting on her bed, a Bible in one hand and a little change purse hanging from her shoulder. She’d chosen a blue sundress that made her eyes shine.

  “You look pretty,” Emma said, startled once more by her sister’s resemblance to Mona.

  Paige fingered the dress. “This was mommy’s favorite color.”

  Oh crap…another emotional mine field.

  “I bet your mom is looking down from heaven today, and she’s so proud of you,” Emma said, wishing she had the words to take the sting away.

  “Why would she be proud?” Paige said, eagerness replacing sadness.

&n
bsp; “Because you’ve been so brave,” Emma said. “You’ve handled everything much better than any of us.”

  “I don’t know.” The little girl looked doubtful. “I’m still so sad all the time.”

  Emma’s heart squeezed. “It’s okay to be sad. You probably will be for a long time, but that will ease after a while.”

  Paige nodded. “That’s what your mom said. Her mommy died when she was a little girl, too.”

  It seemed her mother and Paige had engaged in some deep conversations. Emma sometimes forgot her grandmother had passed away so many years ago. No wonder her mom had been able to comfort Paige in a way no one else could.

  “I think that’s probably true,” Emma said. “Are you ready to go? We’re going to be late if we don’t leave in the next few minutes.”

  Paige nodded and hopped off the bed.

  “Do me a favor and get your sister,” she said, as they passed Imogene’s room. Emma was not eager to tussle with her second sister before heading out to celebrate the Lord’s Day. God was liable to strike them both down for getting in an argument on the way.

  Paige’s lips twitched, like she knew Emma was avoiding the difficult teen, but she didn’t care. Sue her if she wanted a morning free of angst and drama.

  Before long, the family had loaded into the minivan. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, and Emma suspected they were soon in for an end-of-summer storm. A few minutes later, the radically altered Bertram family entered the vestibule again. Emma had to take in a long, deep breath in order to keep moving. Her gaze went unerringly to the front of the sanctuary where her father and Mona had laid just days before. Thankfully, this morning there was an altar table with a pretty floral arrangement.

  “Hello ladies.”

  Emma knew his voice before she even turned her head. Reece Casings had probably been lying in wait for them. Seemed she couldn’t escape him, no matter where they went. He’d endured the remainder of the shopping expedition without complaint and even performed a minor miracle by getting Imogene to settle on appropriate clothes. He’d also helped Paige make up her mind when she struggled with decisions. A man who could put up with four women while they shopped had some serious mental fortitude. Not to mention, he’d looked delicious sitting on various benches and spindly chairs while surrounded by girly clothes of all descriptions. The sales ladies at the stores had tripped over their tongues, going out of their way to bring him water or coffee or phone numbers.