In My Father's Eyes (10 page)

I miss you
. She cried silently.
Wait for me.

Emily sat there for a long time. She thought about her father and the years that separated them. Thought about Emma and what could have been. Thought about Harold’s words and the long struggle he had when Lydia died. Somehow he had found the strength to break free, to find his feet again and begin a new life.

Things were shifting in her, she knew. She’d long tried to bury her guilt and shame, sought to feel nothing at all, only a numbness that allowed no other emotions to touch her. If should couldn’t be touched, then maybe she couldn’t be hurt.

But the scars on her legs, the slices where she’d opened her skin to let out the pain, proved how wrong that effort had been. She hadn’t succeeded in ridding herself of anything; merely buried it beneath the surface where it seethed and roiled until it had to come out, had to erupt to the surface or drown her forever.

She’d promised Harold she wouldn’t do that anymore; yet it was getting harder and harder to keep that promise. Being with him, talking with him, confronting her fears she kept under the façade of toughness, left her with no means of dealing with those emotions.

And worse, along with the anger and guilt and shame, Harold had made her feel something she hadn’t felt in so long it took her a long time to put a name to it.

Hope.

It was a dangerous feeling; the idea that tomorrow would be better. It felt wrong. Feeling it made her edgy and exposed; vulnerable.

For years she’d trained herself to feel nothing, to keep everyone away, at arm’s length. How had Harold gotten past that barrier? How had he become so important to her; so much a part of her thoughts?

Settling onto her back, Emily tucked her arm behind her head and let her eyes drift close. Her thick coat protected her from the wet turf and the bright sun warmed her despite the November chill as her thoughts tumbled.

She wished Harold had been her father. He would be a good father, she thought. He was patient and gentle; never demanding and abrupt. He always looked at her with kindness as if he could see just how fragile she was and wanted to protect her.

Not like her own father. Not like those eyes filled with pain and anger that turned on her, that blamed her, that made her want to cut and cut until nothing was left of her but a mass of scars; scars thick and tough and unfeeling.

Worn out from crying, warmed by the sun, Emily drifted in and out of slumber.

She didn’t know how long she dozed. The sun was still high in the sky when she felt a cold, wet nose nuzzle her cheek.

Startled, she sat up quickly, blinking sleep from her eyes to find herself face to face with a shaggy Golden Retriever looking at her with deep brown puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, boy,” Emily said, catching the friendly dog before he could lick her chin, ruffling his fur. “Where’d you come from? Are you lost?” She asked. The dog looked at her appreciatively as she stroked his soft fur.

“Sam,” a man’s voice admonished, “quit bothering her.”

Emily looked up as the young man approached carrying a leash in one hand. He was breathing hard having chased the dog through the cemetery.

“He’s no bother,” Emily said, scrunching Sam’s mane. “Are you, boy? No. You’re not. You’re a sweet boy, aren’t you?”

“Don’t encourage him,” the young man laughed. “He’ll lick you to death if you do.”

Emily smiled.

“Well, we’re in the right place for it.”

The young man chuckled. “Yes…I suppose we are.” His eyes shifted back the way he’d come and Emily saw the flash of pain and realized he must have been there visiting someone as well.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t joke about it…not here.”

“It’s all right,” the man said, turning back to her. “It’s been a long time.” Stepping forward, the young man clicked the leash onto Sam’s collar. From this close, Emily caught the scent of him; a freshet of citrus and pine underlying a soapy cleanness.

When he looked at her, Emily tensed. His eyes caught hers and warmth spread over her face and neck. She was sure she’d never seen him before. He was older than her by a few years and she would have recognized him had he been at her school, but something about him tugged at her memory.

Her mouth went dry and she licked at her lips.

“I’m Colin Connors” the young man said, standing, Sam’s leash held loosely in his hand.

“Emm…” She cleared her throat. “Emily Walls,” she finished.

Colin’s hand stuck out, and Emily took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. His hand was warm and dry in hers. Despite her height, she found herself looking up into his eyes; those eyes that seemed familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said softly, looking down.

“About?” Emily asked, confused.

Colin nodded at the stone and brass marker.

“Your sister?” He asked.

It was Emily’s turn for pain and loss to flash across her face before answering.

“She was very young,” Colin noted sadly. “It must be hard.”

Emily struggled to find her voice.

“Who...who are you visiting?” Emily said quietly.

“My mother,” Colin answered his eyes again going back over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Emily repeated herself.

“Like I said,” Colin replied, “It was a long time ago.”

“Never seems to make it any easier, though, does it?” Emily said.

“No. No. I don’t suppose it does.” He looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead,    Colin took a deep breath, letting it out with a silent sigh. Sam, quiet for too long, tugged at his leash. “I should go,” he said taking the hint.

“Me, too.” Emily agreed, “It’s getting late.” She looked at the sun as if it would agree.

Colin turned and took a step before looking back at the girl.

“Can I give you a lift?”

Emily considered for a heartbeat before accepting his offer.

“I’d like that.” She joined Colin and they walked across the trimmed lawn toward the cart path leading back to the parking lot.

“Are you from around here?” Emily asked, still trying to figure out where she’d seen him before.

“Not really,” Colin informed. “I was born here. I moved away shortly after my mother passed. This is my first time back.” Sam was busy testing the extent of his leash chasing after the panoply of strange smells in the brush and grass along the path. “How about you? You grew up here?”

“All my life,” Emily answered, unable to disguise the boredom in her voice.

“That exciting, eh?” Colin chuckled.

“Worse.” Emily confirmed, enjoying the throaty sound of his laughter.

Reaching the parking lot, Colin held the truck door open for Emily and shut it behind her, leading Sam around to the driver side and onto the bench seat. Emily scratched Sam’s ears until Colin shooed him into the small back seat.

“Buckle up,” Colin advised.

“Aye, aye,” Emily saluted, before snapping the seatbelt across her shoulders.

The truck roared as Colin turned the key. Following her directions, Colin left the parking lot. “Do you go to school around here?” Colin asked, looking for some way to open up the conversation. He’d been in town for a few weeks. Settled into his apartment and gone through the orientation at the university, worked up his research schedule and class assignments. It had left little time for anything else and he’d been growing increasingly claustrophobic in his office and apartment. Coming out to the cemetery had been the first afternoon he’d had to stretch his legs and let Sam off his leash.

He was still trying to work up the nerve to go see his father. The university schedule kept giving him plenty of excuses to put it off.

“Turn here,” Emily ignored his question, not wanting to get into it; unwilling to explain her ambivalence about school, the conflict with Tom and her mother over her plans…or lack of them…for her future.

Colin let the subject drop and followed Emily’s directions until he sat before her house. Emily thumbed the seatbelt latch and opened the door.

“Well…thanks for the ride,” she said, facing him across the seat.

“Anytime,” Colin replied. Emily paused expectantly. After a moment, she shrugged and gave him a wistful smile.

When she closed the truck door, Colin watched her walk away. Leaned his head on the steering wheel berating himself for not at least getting her phone number.

Emily yanked open the truck door, startling Colin.

“That’s it? ‘Anytime.’ That’s all you’re going to say?” Emily’s face was flushed and she stood looking at him defiantly.

Colin looked at her guiltily.

“I’m…” he swallowed, “Yeah…I thought that was pretty lame myself.” He replied blushing.

“And now?” Emily glared.

“And now you’re kind of scaring me.” Colin grinned, flashing white teeth at her.

“Good,” Emily answered scowling before breaking into a smile of her own. “Be here Thursday. Noon.”

Colin looked at her. The short, chin length black hair, the dark eyes and pale skin. He nodded, “Isn’t that Thanksgiving?”

“You don’t have plans, do you?” Emily challenged.

“No. No.” Colin hurried to admit. “As long as it’s okay with your family.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“I imagine it will,” Colin agreed, wondering just what he was getting himself into with this spirited girl.

“Fine.”

“Anytime.” Colin said forcing a sharp laugh from Emily.

“And bring Sam,” Emily added, before closing the truck door once again and heading with brisk steps up the walk.

This time Colin’s eyes followed her all the way to the house, his smile growing wider as she turned back and gave him a quick wave before ducking behind the door. The smile stayed on his face as he pulled away from the curb and made a u-turn.

Sam yipped from the back seat.

“Yeah,” Colin agreed. “She’s something, all right.”

Chapter Twelve

Emily was taking a break on the back dock, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge, smoking in quick bursts when Mathew found her.

Things had been going well at home despite her deciding not to go back to school just yet. For once, Tom and her Mother had accepted her decision without the usual recriminations and disappointment and Emily was reluctant to spoil the détente.

Her mother had been busy with preparations for Thanksgiving and had roped Emily into helping. For once Emily had readily agreed, surprising her mother and Tom, and assisted her mother with making pies and cleaning up the good china. She’d not told them about meeting Colin and inviting him to the holiday dinner knowing they’d only make a bigger deal out of it than it really was; and she didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions or put up with their knowing looks either.

Still, as the days passed, she found herself thinking about him more and more. It was disquieting to her sense of self and made her nervous to imagine him sitting down with them over dinner. Half a dozen times she bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t call him and make an excuse to cancel only to later find herself thumbing through her closet picking out what she would wear.