Prejudice Meets Pride (16 page)

“Why are her eyes two different colors?” Kevin gestured to the woman’s face, where one brown eye and one blue eye stared back. “She looks freaky—like her body’s been taken over by an alien or something.”

Emma fought back a smile as she twisted toward him. “Okay, that’s it. You’re fired. From here on out, I get to make up the stories.”

“Fine.” He cocked his head toward the painting. “If not an alien host, then what?”

Emma considered it once more. “It’s a form of triangularism.” She pointed from one face to another. “See how her head is the top point of a triangle, and her daughters make up the other points? And notice how one daughter has brown eyes and the other blue, which is why the artist depicted the mother with one blue and one brown eye. It symbolizes a unique and special bond between mother and daughters. I think it’s beautiful.”

Kevin stared at the painting once again, then shook his head. “I still think she looks creepy.”

Emma shook her head and stepped to the next painting, where a young girl ice skated across a frozen pond. The trees surrounding her were lit up with little white lights like Christmas trees. Emma smiled. “Go ahead and try to come up with a lame story for this one.”

With a finger on his chin, Kevin studied the painting, attempting to look like a serious art critic. Then he gave up and dropped his hands to his side. “You’re right, I can’t. She looks like a younger version of you.”

Emma took a step closer. Sure enough, the girl in the painting had long, brown, wavy hair and wore a mostly pink skirt with black swirls, similar to the one Emma now wore. Emma couldn’t help but wish that the moment had been a part of her childhood.

“Can you ice skate?” he asked.

Emma shook her head. “It wasn’t an option where I grew up. They did have some outdoor rinks in Providence, but I never tried. She makes it look so fun, though, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. It makes me want to put on a pair of hockey skates and join her.”

Emma glanced up. “You played hockey?”

He nodded. “Nothing organized, but I grew up in New Hampshire, where they have really cold winters. Every year, my friend’s dad would frame in a large rectangle out of two-by-sixes in their backyard. He’d line it with a huge white tarp and wait for the weather report to say the temps would drop below freezing. Then he’d fill it up with water, wait a few days for it to harden, and, just like that, we had our own private skating rink in his backyard. We’d call our friends over and spend the winters playing hockey.” He paused, looking lost to the memory. “Those were some good times.”

For a memory that sounded so wonderful and happy, Kevin looked more melancholy than anything, as though “good times” hadn’t been that common for him. Emma considered him like she would a painting, wondering about the story behind the picture he made right now. But unlike the other scenes in the gallery, she couldn’t invent a story for him. His past was real, and she wanted to know the true reason behind the sadness.

“Your dad never built a rink in your backyard?” Emma asked.

Kevin shook his head, still staring at the painting. “He never had the time.” The sentence was delivered with so much loneliness and buried pain that Emma’s heart constricted.

“But your friend’s dad had the time.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” answered Kevin. “Never the money, but always the time.” He glanced at Emma and attempted to lighten his tone. “But hey, he didn’t get the brand new Land Rover for his sixteenth birthday like I did. Instead, Andrew always had to borrow his mom’s old minivan.”

Emma’s heart broke in two, not that he’d want her pity any more than she would want his. “A minivan? That’s horrible! How did he survive those teenage years?”

Kevin gave her a small smile. “He snagged lots of rides with me.”

Not sure what else to say or do, Emma placed her hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Lucky him to have you for a friend.”

“No,” said Kevin, his gaze back on the painting. “Lucky me.”

The scent of pine reached Emma’s nose as she and Kevin sauntered past a large evergreen tree. It complimented her peppermint ice cream and made her feel like Christmas was just around the corner, even though it was still three months away. After the gallery, Kevin had taken her out for ice cream, and now they were walking through a beautiful, dimly lit park, with trees as large as skyscrapers and a full moon that peeked in and out of sight. It all felt so… romantic—at least to Emma. Kevin, on the other hand, seemed lost to his thoughts. Either that, or his mint and chip ice cream must be really something.

It had been such a strange night. What had started off as not-a-real-date had morphed into a big question mark. They’d flirted, teased, he’d embarrassed her, and then she’d tried to embarrass him. He’d made some comment about how they should do “this” again, and all Emma could think was
Do what again?
What did “this” mean, and what about Nicole? Maybe it didn’t really mean anything. Maybe “this” was just one of those magical nights that became a one-time journal entry, a scrapbook page, or a wonderful memory locked away for safe-keeping.

The thought was a depressing one.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she finally hedged, wanting desperately to hear something real, something genuine, something that meant “this” might actually continue past tonight.

Kevin didn’t say anything for a moment—just ate another spoonful of his ice cream. When enough time had passed that Emma wondered if he’d heard her question, he finally answered. “I’m trying to figure out the riddle that is Emma Mackie.”

Her heart stuttered, not knowing if it should skip or fall flat. He was thinking about her and calling her a riddle. Was that a good thing? “Let me know when you figure it out. I’ve never been good at riddles.”

“Not even if
you’re
the riddle?”

“
You
called me that, I didn’t. For me, the riddle is the reason you’re calling me a riddle. That’s what I can’t figure out, and I’m really not sure I want to.”

Kevin chuckled and tossed his half-eaten ice cream into a nearby trash can. “How about a game of Twenty Questions?”

Twenty? That was a lot of questions. She’d be hoarse by the time she finished answering that many, and he’d be flat out bored. Her life wasn’t that interesting. “I’ll give you five.”

“But the game is called Twenty Questions. Five Questions doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Emma ignored him. “
And
, for every question you get, I get to ask you one back.”

“But that’s not how—”

“Take it or leave it.”

He gave her a wry smile, then shrugged. “Fine. Question one: Where are you from?”

“Everywhere,” she answered. “Now for my ques—”

“Hey, it’s not your turn yet. You didn’t answer mine.”

“I did too. I’m from everywhere.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve lived at the North Pole? Madagascar? What about Palau? Because that would be really cool. I’ve always wondered if scuba diving there is as great as people say it is.”

What was he talking about? Palau? Was that even a real place, or had he made it up to stump her? She decided to play along. “Even better. In some areas, visibility is close to three hundred feet.”

“Three hundred? Wow.”

“Yeah, totally opposite of the North Pole, where glowing reindeer noses are needed to have any visibility at all. Madagascar, on the other hand, is all clear blue skies, talking zebras, spiky-haired lions, and hilarious penguins.”

“Just like you—
hilarious
.” Kevin said wryly, nudging her shoulder with his and sending a myriad of goose bumps down her arms. “Just remember, what goes around comes around.”

He made a good point, though she still hesitated. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed of her past, but after everything else, she worried it would be one more unconventional thing to add to her already staggering list. Something told her Kevin was after a conventional woman.

Emma sighed and tossed her bowl in the next trash can that came along. She couldn’t change who she was, and if he didn’t like it, that was that. “I was born in Colorado Springs, believe it or not—but only because my mother didn’t want to give birth to me in Sierra Leone, which was where my parents were living at the time. So she flew to the states, had me, and lived with Aunt Maude for a few months before taking me back. According to my parents, we lived in Africa for three years before a nasty hurricane struck Honduras, and my father was asked to head up a relief effort there. Since that time, I’ve lived in Costa Rica, Guatemala, and the Dominican Republic. I’ve slept in tents, on dirt floors, and have been home schooled half my life. But it wasn’t until I was a teenager and spent a summer living with Noah and his new wife in Ohio that I realized what a strange life I’d led.”

Emma paused as the memories came rushing back—both the good and the bad. “Going back to live with my parents was the hardest thing I ever did.”

“Why?”

“Uh-uh.” Emma wagged her finger at him. “My turn first.”

“Fair enough,” said Kevin. “What’s your question?”

“Hmm…” Emma wanted to make it good—something that would require more than a one-word answer. She finally settled on, “Why pediatric dentistry?”

“You want the short version or the long?”

“The longer the better.”

“You asked for it.” He cast her a sidelong smile. “Though after hearing about your altruistic past, I’m a little worried you’re going to think I’m too self-centered.”

“Try me.”

Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to walk beside her. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed that I grew up in a wealthy family. But while I loved my friend’s family and the close connection they all had, I also knew I didn’t want the financial struggles they always seemed to face. I wanted a career that made good money but that also wouldn’t require eighty-hour weeks. Since my dentist only worked three or four days a week, I figured why not? It was interesting to me, and the more I learned, the more I liked what I learned. I chose pediatric dentistry over general for two reasons: One, it pays better, and two, because it required a residency instead of additional schooling, like orthodontia or endodontia did. I was sick of school and ready to start a career. So I applied for the residency, got accepted, and found out that I really liked working with kids.”

Emma cocked her head to the side, studying him. “Why? I mean, what made you—”

“Uh-uh. My turn.” He stooped to pick up a smashed cup that had been left on the pathway and threw it away. Then he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Why was going back to Honduras, or wherever your parents lived at the time, the hardest thing you ever did?”

It was a simple enough question, but the answer was much more complicated and emotional. Emma wasn’t sure she could put it into words. “Um… well, my dad worked for a non-profit organization, which I eventually learned was funded by grants and the generosity of a lot of people. Even though we were doing good things and making a difference, I hated that we were also on the receiving end. Every time I ate a meal or needed to buy new clothes or shoes, I knew where that money was coming from. It didn’t matter that my parents worked hard for what little they earned. I could never get past feeling like a charity case. And every day that came and went, I wished more and more for a different kind of life. A normal life—one where I could be the donator instead of the recipient.” She sighed. “And wouldn’t you know, years later, I’m still wishing for it.”

When he didn’t say anything, Emma glanced up and caught him watching her with an expression she couldn’t begin to decipher. His steps slowed, and his hand reached out to grasp her arm, pulling her to a stop. “I—”

Emma pointed her finger at him. “My turn, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “Next time, you’re not allowed to change the rules. This back and forth thing is getting really annoying.”

“What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?” she teased.

“Is that your question?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He was still staring at her, his eyes deep, his expression half serious, half teasing. What did it mean?

“What are you thinking about right now?” she blurted.

His eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled and shook his head, breaking the connection. His hand left her arm, and he started walking again. “Whatever happened to wanting to know what made me like working with kids?”

She had to quicken her steps to catch up. “It’s still there, just a little lower in the queue now. And stop stalling already and answer the question.”

“Sorry. What was the question again?”

“The one that apparently has such an awful answer that you feel the need to avoid it at all costs.” Emma lifted her hands in surrender. “But, no biggie. If you want to end this game, that’s fine with me. You’ll just never know what life-altering event convinced me that it was time to move to the states for good.” She wiggled her eyebrows, implying that it was something huge.

He chuckled again. “Okay, fine. What am I thinking about right now—that was the question, right?”

“Yes. But by now, I meant then.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Back there.”