Secondhand Sinners (7 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Emily

After her shower, Emily went downstairs to put her clothes in the washing machine. She found Jack outside watching Miller clean and de-bone the fish. Her son had never been in such close proximity to knives and boiling oil. Actually, her son had never been in such close proximity to a man who showed interest in him. Her stolen glances at Jack evolved into stolen glances at Miller. The muscles in his back moved underneath his t-shirt as he lowered the fish into the fryer and then stepped back. He motioned for Jack to move back, and Jack obeyed. Then he said something and put his hand up, and Jack gave him a high five. That made Emily smile.

So this was really happening. She was going to have dinner with Miller and his daughter, after taking a shower and putting on Miller’s sweatpants, which were pretty baggy on her, thank God. This was weird, right? It had to have been. Although it didn’t feel weird. It was…comfortable. No. That wasn’t the right word. Comforted. That was it. She was
comforted
by being in Miller’s house, possibly because it was once the house she lived in with her brother. Or it was because he seemed to be pretty happy with his life. Maybe it was because when they were in the pond, and she brushed his wet hair out of his face, she felt something spark between them.

Or it was all her imagination, and she was a fool to hope.

Since Miller and Jack were busy with the fish, Emily and Abby looked in the kitchen for the ingredients to make her grandmother’s famous fried potatoes and a salad. They found what she needed, including some bonus items to make fried pies. She hadn’t made anything her grandmother had taught her to cook since she was a teenager, probably because she always hated the way Ma’am would tell her she needed to learn how to cook because that was the only way she’d ever be able to get a husband. Truthfully, thanks to Ma’am, she was a pretty good cook, and she taught Abby a few of the basics.

“Emily?” Abby asked.

“Huh?”

“I asked what it was like to be back on your family’s property after all these years?”

“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t thought much about it. Actually, though, I used to live in this house.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yep. My grandfather built it for my mom and dad when they got married.”

“Did you have my room?”

“Sure did. I shared it with Levi until I was about ten. My parents decided we needed our own rooms, so they built the house they live in now.”

“So you used to live in my room?”

“I did.”

“Hold on.” Abby disappeared up the stairs and came back with something in her hand. “Is this yours?”

“Oh my God.” Emily took the mass of silver and held it up. “My charm bracelet. I thought I lost this. Where was it?”

“I found it on a shelf in the closet.”

“I wonder how it got there.” As she inspected each charm, her mind pummeled her with the memories of her grandfather coming to pick her up on her birthday every year and taking her to the jewelry store to pick out a charm. She got the horse for her seventh birthday, the painter’s pallet for her ninth. There was one missing. “There was a tree, like a family tree. Have you seen that one anywhere?”

Abby shook her head. “I would have seen it if it was up there. I cleaned my closet out really good after my mom moved out.”

“You keep it.” Emily opened the clasp and motioned for Abby to put her arm out. “Think of it as a gift from me and my grandfather.”

Abby inspected the new jewelry on her arm, wearing a huge grin. “I’ll never lose it. I promise.”

“All right, then. Let’s cook.” Emily picked up a tomato and washed it.

“What do you do in Dallas?” Abby asked her. “You know, like what’s your job?”

“I don’t have a job. I was a receptionist at an accounting firm. I quit when I had Jack.”

Abby opened a drawer and pulled out forks, knives, and spoons. “A receptionist. That’s cool.”

Emily laughed. “It was boring and not at all what I wanted to do.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t graduate from high school, and I was on my own so I had to do something.” Emily realized she was looking…really looking at Miller’s daughter for the first time. Now that they were closer, she could see how pretty she was. Her hair wasn’t just blonde; it had natural highlights from the sun. Her eyes weren’t just green; they were lagoons.

“Oh. Well, what about now?”

“Now I take care of Jack. I have to be available all the time in case he needs me. If you hand me that knife, I’ll cut this tomato.”

Abby handed Emily a knife. “Even while he’s at school?”

“Especially while he’s at school.”

“You could move back here. We have a great school system. I know my dad would like it.”

“I’m not so sure my family would be too crazy about that.” Emily was struck by how familiar she looked when she smiled. It was too vague for her to put her finger on it. It might have been an expression she’d seen on Miller when they were teenagers. She studied Abby’s face. Maybe there was a little Miller in her smile. That wasn’t it, though. There was something more. Was it Sara? Emily tried to concentrate on the tomato she was supposed to be slicing, but she kept looking at Abby, trying to figure out what was so familiar about her.

Abby stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Well. My birthday is coming up, and Daddy said I could have a pool party.”

Emily tried to imagine Miller planning a girl’s birthday party. The thought made her smile. “That sounds like fun.”

“I know, right? It’s…” Abby moved to shut the door and then came back to stand close enough to whisper. “I might have a problem. I don’t know how to use this.” She pulled a tampon out of her pocket.

“Oh.”

“I mean. I know where it goes and stuff. I don’t know how it works.”

“So this is your first summer since…”

“Yes.”

Emily took the tampon with the words
Super Plus
printed on the wrapper. “Where did you get this?”

“My dad.” Abby rolled her eyes. “He brought home two great big boxes of these things like he was stockpiling them for the apocalypse. I think he hopes that’s all I’ll ever need until I move out.”

“You don’t want to use this.” She handed it back. “Sometime while I’m in town I’ll take you to the store and get you what you need.”

“Thanks.” Abby sighed and put the big tampon back into her pocket. “My dad actually tried to read the instruction sheet. Talk about embarrassing.”

Emily couldn’t stop herself from laughing a little at that. The more she thought about Miller trying to figure out the complicated teenage girl’s world, the more tender she felt toward him. He really was a good dad. “So do you have a boyfriend?” she asked.

Abby said, “No,” through her not-quite-hidden smile.

“What’s his name?”

“Alex. Please don’t tell my dad. He doesn’t even like to talk about it. He gets all freaked out about boys. I think it’s because he’s afraid I’ll have sex because he and my mom had to get married. You know, like
had
to get married. It’s so backward, right? Getting married right after high school because you’re pregnant. Oh…” Abby’s eyes darted around for a few seconds. Then she said, “My daddy’s not really backward. He’s cool. I mean
really
cool. I’ll finish this salad if you want to go check on Jack.”

Miller and Sara had to get married? Sara always did have a huge crush on Miller. They were an unofficial couple ever since their sophomore year, so when Emily heard they’d gotten married, she wasn’t too surprised. Devastated, but not surprised. Miller must’ve turned to Sara for comfort after that night Daniel killed himself and she left. She was all he had left. Emily knew they had a baby. She didn’t know they
had
to get married. How old was Abby? When she first saw her in the police station, she guessed she was twelve, mostly because there was no way she could have been any older. Having spent the day with her and hearing that Miller and Sara got married because she got pregnant, thirteen was a reasonable assumption.

An old wound was opening up, and Emily could feel herself bleeding again. It wasn’t simply the guilt that was seeping from her veins, there was regret too. Guilt and regret, her lifeblood.

She snagged a beer from the refrigerator and took it outside to Miller.

“Thanks,” he said and twisted the cap off.

“Everything is ready in there.” She took Jack by his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go wash your hands.”

“No.” Jack squirmed out of her grasp. “I’m going to wash my hands like a man.”

Emily looked at Miller and raised an eyebrow. “How does a man wash his hands?”

Miller nodded to the side of the house. “There’s a bar of soap on the shelf next to the faucet.”

Emily walked Jack to the side of the house, handed him the soap, and stepped back when he insisted he could do it by himself. When he finished, she sent him inside for a towel to dry his hands and legs, which were drenched from all the spray. He ran into the house, giving Miller a high five when he ran past him.

Emily smiled when Miller held up his hand and Jack responded appropriately. Damn it, she’d been smiling all night. That was one of those social situations that they had worked on—how you can tell the difference between a high five and an assaulting slap, and it was good to see Jack was mastering it.

When the back door slammed, she walked back to Miller. “He’s going to start peeing in the grass, isn’t he?”

Miller shrugged. “That
is
how men do it.”

Emily inspected Miller’s profile to see if she could get a glimpse of the familiarity she saw on Abby’s face. She might have been right about the resemblance in the mouth. There was something else, though.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“I was just trying to decide if Abby looks more like you or Sara.”

He took a long drink. “Sara. She looks like Sara.”

“I thought there was a little of you in her too.”

“Yeah. That’s what Sara said. Then she left.” He walked back to the fryer and pulled the basket out of the oil. “This is almost ready. It’ll be a few minutes.”

Emily felt terrible. She shouldn’t have brought up Sara. They were having such a nice day, and she’d tainted it by reminding him of his ex-wife.

“Miller, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t—”

With his back to her, he waved off her apology. “I’ll be right in.”

They ate an awkward dinner where Abby talked too much and Miller didn’t talk at all. After they cleaned up, Emily put her own clothes back on and said she and Jack should leave so they could get back to Levi’s before it got too dark.

Abby frowned, her eyes darting around the room, then she grabbed an empty jar from the counter. “I was hoping to show Jack how to catch fireflies. Daddy can drive you back later, right, Daddy?”

Miller sighed. “Sure, Abigail.” Then he walked out the front door and sat on the porch steps.

Emily sat next to him while Jack ran and jumped around the front yard singing, “Twinkle! Twinkle! Little star! How I wonder what you are!” at the top of his lungs.

It was the first time Jack could play freely without being shushed, monitored, or expected to conform to social rules he didn’t understand. It was also the first time she could remember being free to enjoy her son. She loved it. She loved the whole day.

“Look, Mom! I’m chasing the stars!”

“They’re fireflies, baby.”

“Nope. Gotcha! See? They twinkle. They’re stars.”

“It’s so dark out here. I don’t think he’s ever seen so many stars. He’s in heaven,” she said.

Miller smiled a little. “Looks that way.”

“Are you sure he’s not bothering you? I can tell him to settle down.”

“I told you, he's fine. Relax."

Despite Jack’s screaming and Abby’s laughing, Emily could still hear the underlying quiet she’d noticed when she was alone in Miller’s room. There were no cars, no planes, and no sirens. The air was so clean.

She inhaled. “I miss that.”

“What?” Miller asked.

“That musty, wet-wood, spring-night smell.”

“Oh. That.”

She’d obviously ruined Miller’s mood. After their little swim in the pond he’d seemed so relaxed. Then she had to go and mention Sara. She put her hand on his arm. “Miller. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up—”

Miller took her hand and pulled it to him, forcing her to scoot closer. When he rubbed her empty ring finger, she tugged her hand away, but he tightened his grip.

“No wedding ring?”

“Yeah. Sorry I lied. I don’t like to talk about it. The whole marriage was such a—”