Getting by (A Knight's Tale) (9 page)

“When Liam assigns me something, it’s out of Sam’s jurisdiction.” Her tone was getting low and close to a whisper. “But he barely asks for me. Hope it’s not because—”

“Don’t be absurd, Emma.” I fought to take the edge off my voice. Snapping at her wasn’t a good idea. “Is it the truth that you moved your grandparents to an assisted home?” She nodded and kept quiet. “How are you handling things?” She shrugged, not looking at me. “Nate’s is all yours, Em. I wish I could do more. You have my number, call me if you need me—for anything. I mean it, baby.” I restrained myself from reaching for her and enveloping her tightly. The need to protect her from whatever it was that had her on the edge grew stronger.

Thank you,
she mouthed.

Side by side, Emma and I walked toward where my cousin and Gaby had moved. She excused herself and said something about helping Gaby’s mom.

“And that was Emma.” Cade’s humorous comment made Gaby chuckle, but none of my brothers welcomed it. He composed himself and continued. “Not Chloe, but you get the gist. As looney as they get, you can’t understand half of the crap she says at times.”

Emma acted cool, but it appeared as if Cade’s acceptance was important to her. It made sense, losing Gaby, her only friend, seemed extreme. So when he began to talk shit about her, I decided to give him a little piece of my mind. “Yes, she’s different, and has a quirky sense of humor.” I took a deep breath. “That doesn’t make her crazy, Cade. Careful, I mean it.” He broke our eye contact but not before I got the message across—no one messed with Emma, not even my cousin.

Chapter 10

Jake

“SHE WAS ACCEPTED to the Sorbonne,” Gaby’s Mom repeated, and Emma rolled her eyes and grunted. Before she realized I was close, I got out of the kitchen. For what Mrs. Clement said, it appeared as if Emma had been a serious artist. “I have a few of her pieces, the ones I recovered from the trash.” She continued talking nonstop about Emma—bragging was the correct word. “She just got a promotion. Where did you say you work, Emma?”

“I’m a creative director at K&W.” Sneaking closer to get a view of them, I caught Mom, taking a second look at the girl. “The Sorbonne was only a childish dream.”

I leaned on the opposite wall from the dining room, next to the door frame of the kitchen. It was the perfect place to listen and watch, but was out of sight from them. I was nervous because Mom’s intrusion could trigger Emma and make things inside the kitchen awkward for both. Not that I cared if they got along. Their talk continued, and Mom diverted the conversation to a safer one. She asked questions about Emma’s trips, got excited about Australia and talked with her about the Opera house.

They both criticized the summer tourists in Europe—both detested them. I took another glance at them, they were almost the same height. Mom’s blond head of hair contrasted with Emma’s brown-reddish one. They worked around the kitchen while talking, and Mom now had my girl relaxed.

I was the one that tensed when Mom mentioned Tuscany. I hoped Emma wouldn’t talk about our stay at the Villa. Rachel Knight connected dots like no other person I knew. If she smelled something had happened between Emma and one of her children, she’d find out who and try to marry them—us. I love my Mom, but hate her meddling. We all kept our trysts safe and away from her.

Tina interrupted the traveling tales, asking Emma for advice. The girl wanted to maim her when she asked for suggestions about how to redecorate the living room.

“I’m not a decorator,” Emma groaned. “The last time I attempted it, Grandma kicked me out of the house. You must recall the incident. Dad grounded me for an eternity, though Mom bailed me out three weeks later. The time coincided with the day Gaby performed her first aquatic surgery.” There was a smirk peeking on those pouty lips, but it disappeared with the same speed it arrived. “Grandfather Anderson moved me from the favorite column to the most unwanted.” Mom gave her a perplexedly concern look and Emma dismissed it, continuing the story. “I was eight, by the way. During our summer vacations, Mom and Tina here needed a sitter, and Grandma dear offered her services.”

“You were a child.” The woman who believed children should explore and learn by their mistakes, defended her. “My granddaughter can burn down my house and she’ll still be loved. Not banished from my home.”

“Mom would’ve burned the house for her granddaughter.” Emma’s voice lost its equilibrium for a nanosecond, but she recovered her business voice fast. She chopped the vegetables she was preparing, nonstop. I wondered if I should look for a first aid kit, because her fingers seemed to be in danger. “But that’s beside the point. As we all know, years ago Mr. Wilmington played God and didn’t let her have the choice to burn it down or not. Good times. Where do I put these veggies, Tina?”

Mom’s stumped look was priceless. That was Emma, whatever Mr. Wilmington did, seemed not to affect her. The pain hid pretty well, but her slumped body was the first sign of it. I bet if I could see her eyes, they’d showed me exactly where it was. Snips from our nightly talks began to make sense. Her sister’s kinky side, her parents leaving without a goodbye note, and her art. She spent hours looking at pieces of art at museums or gallery openings. Analyzing and absorbing them. Her finger traced my bare back or chest after a fulfilling session of sex. Was she drawing something?

Emma pressed her lips and eyes closed when she realized Mom had no idea what she was talking about. “Oh I thought Tina told you.” Mom responded with a simple no, and gave her an expectant look. I hoped this would give me a clue as to why my girl secluded herself—punished herself.

“Dad,” was the first word before she unveiled the story I had wanted to hear since I met her. No, a little later, when I began to like her more than for one night—or one weekend. “He messed up pretty bad. Embezzled from his clients and left them high and dry. One of those clients was dear Mr. Wilmington.” Then it hit me in the gut.
Hold on, wait, you just met her. Why are you telling Mom about this, when you never told me anything.
I deserved more from her. Without a second thought, I pushed myself from the wall to leave.

However, the tremble in her voice made me stay. “The cherub decided to use my parents as range targets.” No, no. I thought. This wasn’t what I expected. Anything but. “Messy results, the news reported. I left for school twenty minutes before he showed up. If only I had stayed.” A heavy breath helped her steady her words and continue. “Among the contents of his trunk was the body of his wife. The woman had a hanky-panky deal with Daddy. She and half of the women in San Francisco knew him pretty well.

“Dad, he’d be proud that I took charge of my life and grew up, like he wanted. I stopped drawing with crayons and did what real people do.” Emma moved the conversation from the painful tale of her parents to work; a safe subject. “Though I still haven’t figured out how to do something nice for Mom, perhaps I don’t—” She stopped, and I left not waiting for her to continue.

Survivor’s guilt.
She isolated herself into a place where no one except Gaby was admitted. I left the house and took a walk around the block to think, to forget or to cool down. My own mind didn’t understand what I needed to do in order to feel better. Nothing worked, because once I was back in front of the Clement’s door, my ambiguous feelings remained. I felt the need to run away and never look back, while the other side of me wanted to hold her until all the pain was gone. Opening the door to the chaos a simple barbecue had become, I looked for Liam and Mitch. Both were talking to the bridesmaids we had been introduced to earlier in the day. Dad and Mr. Clement continued their conversation, while Gavin sucked face with the flavor of the month. Emma had become complicated.
Run, Jake, listen to the maddening girl.
Not knowing her past, present and future made her perfect. She was a hot number available when we met, and ready to take everything I threw at her. We began with the basics, according to Jake Knight. She came on our first night, more times than she had in her entire life. Her tight body accepted all of me without any complaints.

“We fit perfectly and synchronized our bodies on a deep-hard-rock-your-bones tune,” she used to say.

Two lost lovers, who finally found each other after an eternity of solitary confinement. That was then, but today I had to get her out of my system. Not an easy task when I kept tabs on her and observed from afar. I was on one side of the backyard and she was close to the old house where tragedy struck and took away her family.

I didn’t notice when or how Mom approached, but suddenly she appeared in front of me, carrying a plate full of food; potato salad, chips, hamburger, hotdog, and coleslaw. I needed to get away from her before she picked up on my mood, or began to psychoanalyze the party. Or worse, notice me observing and avoiding Emma. Em, whose empty eyes continued watching the neighbor’s house, looking as if at any moment someone would come out and say it was a mistake and her parents were inside. Her actions were robotic, salad bite, nose scratch and then a crinkle. The pressure in my chest from seeing her agonizing increased.

“She’s lonely.” Great, Mom had decided to fix the girl, because that’s what she did best. Meddle. I took a deep breath and listened. “Tina mentioned she has a set of grandparents in Connecticut. Her grandfather had an accident and is recovering at home. But his health is declining.”

No, she moved them to an assisted home.

This was worse than I thought; I cared about Emma too much not to give a shit. I needed to find out how bad everything was. An email to my people, and I should be able to find out her blood type and every other part of her life.

“I think she has survivor’s guilt,” Mom continued with her scheme.

“You think.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm.

“Yes.” She smiled sadly. Mom had worked with a case of SG before. Not that she should’ve done it. “That’s her house, the one she stares at. Gaby’s her only friend, and yet, Cade doesn’t like her. He told me. At times he’s so much like his father.”

Cold…an asshole?

“I hope his bride keeps him straight. We should work with her, Jake.” Mom pointed discreetly toward Emma. “Mitch, Liam and your Dad know how to handle these cases too.”

“Mom, you’re the only certified therapist.” The woman took off her listening ears, and my words meant nothing. I tried anyway. My entanglement had to stop, not go deeper. “We can’t save everyone, you taught me that.”

“I’m aware,” she responded, then cupped my face with one hand and locked our eyes. “But Emma isn’t everyone, Jake. She caught your attention. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I call her a miracle, son.” My eyes grew wider. How did she notice? “After your accident, you don’t look at anyone with such interest, not even us. I’m killing two birds with the same stone. Be a hero, Jake. Remember when you were little and we asked you what you wanted to be?”

“Let it go, Mom. It didn’t work,” I said, but she shook her head as if I was the one speaking nonsense—not the other way around. Her little therapy sessions annoyed me. It was unethical to treat your own children. Then just as she came, she decided to leave. I followed her inside the house to convince her that she had lost her last coherent brain cells. “People die, lose limbs, their mental abilities and the desire to live. Nothing I did helped, I lost them. Emma doesn’t want help.”
I lost her.

“Admire.” She pointed to the painting over the chimney. The bay, it was a nice piece. Then she pointed to a pencil portrait of Chloe. “She made that at seventeen. It’s Anna, her mom. Before her world collapsed her talent had been recognized by many artists and schools—internationally. Do you think she’s living?”

Chapter 11

Jake

MOM NEVER GAVE up. Rachel Knight always got what she wanted. In this case, save the orphan girl with no life. I said no, Mitch and Liam supported me, and Dad, dear old Dad said, “Whatever you think, Rachy.” And gave us a deadly glance, his code for you three better do what she says or else.

And that’s why at nine at night, when the big barbecue ended, we headed toward the hotel with Emma riding in the back of the car with her new best friend—Mom. I turned the radio on, putting the volume as high as the other passengers would allow. Grateful it was loud enough to tune out Mom’s unsuccessful attempt to bond with her. Who was I kidding, they connected. For some freaking reason Emma felt safe with Rachel Knight—not with me.

“Why didn’t you fight the plan? She always listens to you, though it will be fun to get to know Emma.” Mitch stretched the last word with big amounts of pleasure. My twin liked to mess with me, and payback was a bitch—I counted on it. I shrugged and kept my eyes on the road. Which, Mitch took as an invitation to continue his monologue. “You’re right. No one can say no to Mom. Dad’s a freaking saint, I swear. The maniac is a force. I mean, Mom is a force.” He chuckled at his own joke. “I heard you gave Emma the account. I’m not sure you did the right thing.” I growled and grabbed the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. “Fine, I’ll shut up because you’re in a mood. I met a couple of girls, and you, Liam and I should party like old times.”

Get real,
I thought. Apart from Emma, we stopped partying and screwing around long ago. At least I did. Two years ago I became a one girl kind of guy. I glanced through the rearview mirror and saw her talking to Mom with no reservations. Plus, none of the girls at the barbecue did it for me. They all looked like women in heat, looking for something we refused to offer—at least to me.

Was that what attracted me to Emma, her light approach to us? No strings attached. My brothers did light flings too. We agreed to find a good fuck for this week. Who was I kidding? Yes, I had to consider Emma’s presence a huge cock-block, or not, since my pants became too tight in the front.

A few more blocks,
I reassured myself—
almost there.
“Which one of you boys will be driving us to the final fitting tomorrow?” Mom asked, and I know that at least Mitch and I mentally screamed,
not me!