Page 141 of When There Was You
“I don’t know, but you said when the time was right, you’d tell Emmy about her mom and then she can decide. It’s alright to not have it all figured out this second.”
He looks toward the house, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I just don’t want Em to get hurt. And I sure as shit don’t know how I’d ever trust Darlene to be in our daughter’s life again. I thought all this fucking bullshit was over. Maybe I need to get a restraining order.”
Helpless to do much else, I wrap my arms around him. “Just keep being her dad, Butch. You’re doing a wonderful job with her, and until your gut tells you something different, just stay the course. Trust your instincts.”
Butch’s instincts propel him to act in the week ahead. He speaks to Emmy’s elementary school principal to explain his concerns. He holds a family meeting. He reiterates to his daughter how careful she needs to be at her age, reminding her to be suspicious of strangers. And he doesn’t leave Emmy unattended.
They’re all precautions, but hopefully, Darlene will abandon this mission and disappear, just like she did when Emmy was young.
Sixty-Seven
Emmy and I play in the colorful autumn leaves, raking them into a big pile before running and jumping in, both of us shrieking with laughter. Leaf confetti sticks to our hair and clothes—and in Emmy’s case, sometimes catches in the sparkling tiara secured to her crown with combs.
Emmy considers herself a princess—with vast costumes, tiaras, wands, and attitude to back it up. You won’t find me arguing. Right now, she’s the princess of the forest, framed by the glorious ruby, auburn, and golden hues of nature’s palette as she lies flat on her back.
Hemi circles us, barking animatedly. He wants to be part of the fun but refuses to step one paw in the pile. Butch tried taking him over to the restoration shop, where he’s attempting to catch up on the backlog of work, but Hemi seemed hell-bent on staying with us.
Emmy’s shushing the dog when my stomach roils with a sudden, sharp distress. I blow out a harsh breath.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say.
“And I’m thirsty,” Emmy adds.
I stand, offer my hand, and hoist her up. She runs towardthe house as I wade out of the pile. “Brush off before you go in,” I yell just as another twinge hits my gut.
When I get to the door, I hastily add my detritus to hers, another cramp hammering my insides as I hurry to the restroom. What the hell?
Awarded a moment of reprieve—even though my guts are tight as a drum—I flip through the magazines stuffed in a basket:Reader’s Digest, Car Collector, Muscle Car Review,andCosmo.
Emmy’s footsteps thunder down the hall and stop by the door. “I’m going to see Daddy. M’kay? Bye!”
“Wait!” Sudden pain doubles me over, and I break out in a cold sweat. “Em?” I croak, trying to breathe through it. “Emmy!”
She doesn’t answer, already gone.
Damn it.
The next assault strikes, this one bringing a wave of nausea. What is happening to me? I need to catch Emmy. But my body has other plans, hitting me with spasm after spasm.
Hemi barks outside and my head jerks toward the sound. His barks turn insistent. Unrelenting. Alarm shrieks in my head, but I can’t hear anything but the dog. What’s going on?
A fresh cramp hits. Goosebumps skitter across my flesh. My vision darkens at the corners, head woozy, and I slump forward. Bile edges up my throat, and I pant through the attack.
Hemi howls.
Oh god, I’m going to hurl. I scramble to my knees and retch into the toilet, trapped in my own personal hell. My stomach empties, and I’m at the mercy of biology, just here for the revolting ride.
It takes several offensive minutes and when I think—hope—it’s over, I rest my forehead against the cool porcelain of the upended seat and get my bearings.
The dog has fallen silent.
I pray Emmy’s alright. And that I am too.
I’m weak but need to pull myself together and find her. I splash cold water on my face then hasten on unsteady legs to the front door. Flinging it open, I lurch onto the porch, sweating head to toe.
Hemi stares down the driveway, growling menacingly at a faint cloud of dust hanging in the air. That’s when my eyes catch on something sparkling near his feet.
Emmy’s tiara.
