The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River) (27 page)

His disapproving expression made Emma feel very self-conscious. “It’s the only one I have. I know it’s the right one.”

Cooper said nothing. It was that look, always that look, that suggested he could see right through her, could look right into the strange lands that inhabited her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking a little.

Cooper’s jaw clenched. “Unfortunately, sorry won’t do. You can’t sorry your way out of this one. We had a great time. No, fuck that—we had more than a great time, we had
meaningful
sex. Real sex, Emma. We connected. In other words, we made love. Unless I was on some mind-bending trip and went there by myself. Was that it? Was I the only one feeling it?”

Emma shook her head and swallowed down a nauseating lump of regret.

“And then you did
that
?” he said, wincing, gesturing at the charm. “After that extraordinary moment between us, you could turn around and toss me into a basket with all the other meaningless men you’ve used? How could you do that? How could you equate what we had with all those
. . . others
?” he asked her, sounding disgusted.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t. I know it seems like I did that, but it was different, and I honestly, sincerely, don’t know why I did it. It’s like a weird compulsion. But Cooper, you have to believe me, that’s not why I wanted to be with you. I swear it.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to say more, but Emma didn’t know what more to say. It
wasn’t
what she’d wanted. What she’d wanted, what she
still
wanted was
. . .

The waitress appeared with a slab of cheesecake, two coffees, and two forks.

“I thought we were better than that,” Cooper said bitterly when the waitress had left. “I thought what you wanted was for there to be something real between us.”

“I did,” Emma assured him. “I
do.
”

“Tell me,” he said, gesturing impatiently for her to speak. “Explain to me what was between us.”

“What you said.”

Cooper grunted, clearly dissatisfied with her answer. He picked up a fork and took a big bite of cheesecake. And then another before putting the fork down.

“I’m sorry, Cooper—”

“Goddammit, stop telling me you’re
sorry
.”

“I don’t mean I’m sorry for taking the St. Christopher,” she said earnestly. “I mean I
am
sorry for that, but I’m so sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

He glanced up at her, interested.

“You’re not alone in your confusion and frustration,” she said. “I actually have a family I’ve been disappointing for a long time. There’s just something in me that won’t work right,” she said, and fidgeted with the end of her braid.

Cooper watched her closely, waiting. He wasn’t going to help her explain herself. He wasn’t going to tell her it was all right.

“I am not trying to hide anything or be purposefully vague,” she said. “It’s just something I can’t really explain, you know? All my life, from the time I was a little girl, I wanted to be was the girl everyone wanted,” she said, flicking her wrist to the vast universe of
everyone
. “I wanted to be the girl my dad wanted to be a father to. I wanted my mother to think that I was
. . .”
She paused here, uncertain. “I wanted her to think I was as good as my stepsister, Laura.”

He looked down when she said Laura’s name.

“But instead, I was the kid who never said the right thing. I wasn’t cute and friendly like Laura. I wasn’t fun to be around. I wanted to be, but I couldn’t figure out how to be.”

Cooper lifted his gaze again. He was listening. Intently.

“I was—I
am
—really awkward. I always say the wrong thing, even when I’m trying to say the right thing. And God, please, don’t ask me if I have Asperger’s syndrome. I’m just socially awkward.”

“You’re not,” he said low.

“I
am.
I can say it, Cooper. I know it’s true, and I can live with it. But I wish, I
wish,
” she said, pressing her hands to her chest, “that I was different. Unfortunately, wishing doesn’t make it so.”

“I understand,” he said.

“No you don’t. All that wishing has turned me into someone I don’t like very much. I do things I don’t even understand,” she said bitterly, “things I don’t
want
to do. And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself.”

He reached across the table and put his hand on her arm. “I
do
get it
.
You think it’s easy having a brother who is always in trouble? When he’s the kid that the neighbors suspect stole their lawn mower, and by extension, think
you
stole their lawn mower, too, because you’re the kid they always see tagging along behind him? I have wished my brother was different. I have wished my dad wasn’t as strict as he was with Derek, and I have wished he could have been a little more understanding. I have wished for a lot of things that never happened. But here’s the thing I know about my brother. Derek isn’t a bad guy. I mean, yes, obviously, he is missing some moral fiber and he does some reprehensible things. But at the same time, he was a great brother to me. He had a big, warm heart, he loved animals, he loved
me
. He was a good guy underneath, but he couldn’t make himself fit in like the rest of us. He tried, but he could never seem to do it.”

“Boy, do I get that,” Emma sighed.

“Maybe that’s why I’m so angry with you right now, Emma. Because in some ways, you are like my brother. You’ve got issues, but underneath it, you’re a good person. I always knew with Derek it didn’t have to be that way. He could have been anything he wanted to be if he’d only allowed himself to believe it. The same goes for you. I would hate to see you live your life alone and on the fringe.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think it’s the same thing.”

“Yes, it is,” Cooper said adamantly. “Look, I can’t begin to understand why you pick up guys and take things. I hate that—it’s disgusting, especially because I know you are so much better than that. You
deserve
so much better than that.”

She could feel those words squeezing around her heart, holding it tight against the guilt that was roaring up from the bottom of her soul. “Don’t kid yourself about me.”

“Don’t run yourself down,” he said. “Who made you think you were less than zero? Who put that idea in your head?” he demanded a little angrily. “Because they couldn’t be more wrong.”

How was it that he could put into words things she was feeling before she could do it herself? It made her shiver, and she rubbed her arms.

“Remember that night in Beverly Hills?” he asked.

Emma remembered every single thing about it, every moment, every smile. The way his eyes danced in the low light, the way he’d laughed at her recounting of the polygamist anniversary. The way he’d looked at her when she’d left him, the way Reggie kept stroking her earlobe, making her feel like a dog, and most of all, the look in Cooper’s eyes when Reggie had rolled down that window.

She nodded.

“You were different with me that night. You were real. There have been moments here in Pine River when you’ve been that girl. And then you
. . .”
He made a sound of impatience. He leaned across the table again and grabbed her hand, holding it. “It could be like that night in Beverly Hills with us all the time. Do you get that?”

She wanted to believe it. She wanted that more than anything, but she had no faith in herself. Emma bit her lip and squeezed his hand.

Cooper squeezed her hand, too, and let go, shifting back, sliding away from her. She almost grabbed his hand before he could slip out of her reach, but in a moment, it was too late. “I need to get back to the airport,” he said.

He tossed a twenty onto the table and stood up.

“What about your St. Christopher?” she asked.

He picked it up, took her hand, and pressed it into her palm, then folded her fingers over it. “You keep that.”

“I couldn’t. It’s yours—”

“You need it more than me. And when you look at it, I want you to remember what could have been.”

Emma’s heart stopped. She wanted to say what Cooper wanted to hear. But Cooper wasn’t waiting for her to find the right words, to try and put some spin on it. He put his arm around her waist and walked with her out to the car.

Neither of them spoke on the short drive back to the airport. At the curb, Cooper looked at her, his gaze moving over her face, searching for something. Could he see how close she was to tears? Could he feel how certain she was she would disappoint him? Could he understand how hard it was to let him go?

“You’re not coming back to LA, are you?”

Emma shook her head. If she spoke, she would cry. She would
not
cry. Because if one tear fell, she would melt, right there in front of the airport, melt away into nothingness.

Cooper closed his eyes a moment, and with a shake of his head, he reached for the door handle.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she whispered. “And I will. I will disappoint you so badly you will hate me, and I can’t do that, Cooper. I can’t
bear
that.”

He suddenly twisted in his seat and cupped her face. “That’s where you’re wrong. You told me you don’t do ordinary love, remember?”

Emma nodded, her vision starting to blur with tears that were building behind her lashes.

“I told you I was strong enough for you, and I meant it. I am strong enough for your extraordinary love, Emma. I’m strong enough for both of us. So this is your loss.” He let go of her then and got out of the car. He stepped up onto the curb, then turned around and tapped on her window. Emma rolled it down. “And your sister, Laura? She is no friend of yours,” he said. “She’s a snake in the grass around you, waiting for a chance to bite. Steer clear of her.” He st
raightened up and walked into the terminal without looking back.

She watched him disappear inside, watching him through the plate-glass doors, certain she could still see him.

A policeman knocked on her hood, gesturing for Emma to move on.

She put her car in gear, her mind twirling around his warning about Laura, but mostly, hearing the same thing reverberate in her head.
I am strong enough for your extraordinary love, Emma.

She gripped the St. Christopher medal in her fist as she drove.

TWENTY-TWO

Emma drove back to Homecoming Ranch without stopping, even when fat lazy flakes of snow began to fall. As she climbed up over the mountains, the snowfall was heavier, and she had to slow down.

It was ten o’clock when she pulled into the drive at the ranch. She was exhausted, starving, and emotionally spent, having replayed everything Cooper had ever said to her on the long road back.

The snow had spent itself by the time she reached the ranch and was falling very lightly when Emma stepped out of her car. She paused to pet the dogs that had come out from the garage to greet her, then hauled herself up the porch steps and inside. In the entry, she braced herself against the wall and pulled off her boots.

“Emma, is that you?” Libby called from the kitchen, and a moment later, she was standing in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Hey, where’d you get off to today?” she asked cheerfully.

“Is there any food?” Emma asked.

“There’s some sandwich stuff,” Libby offered. “So where’d you go?”

“Denver,” Emma said, and walked into the living room.

Madeline was on the couch under a throw, a notebook in her lap. “Denver!” she said, and yawned, stretching her arms high above her. “How come?”

Emma halted her drive toward the kitchen and looked at her sisters. “Cooper was flying through and I went to meet him.”

Libby’s face suddenly broke into a grin.
“See?”
she said gleefully to Madeline. “I told you!”

“It’s not what you think,” Emma said. “I stole a St. Christopher medal from him that his grandfather had given him. He wanted it back.”

Libby’s very gleeful look faded. “Huh? You stole what? You
stole
something?” she asked, as if those words made no sense to her.

“A St. Christopher medal. A charm,” Emma said with a flick of her wrist.

“But didn’t you take something from that
other
guy?” Libby asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Emma said. She felt very weak, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her. In fact, she felt herself swaying a little.

“I don’t get it,” Libby said.

“Hey,”
Madeline said, frowning. She sat up, tossing the throw over the back of the couch. “Are you okay?”

Emma couldn’t help the sour laugh. “No,” she said. “I am really, seriously fucked up,” she said, and her legs gave out. She crashed to the floor in a heap. She heard Libby and Madeline shriek, felt hands and arms around her.

“Damn it, Emma, when was the last time you ate?” Libby demanded.

“I don’t know,” Emma said, and rubbed her forehead, only now realizing that she had a biting headache as well.

“What is the
matter
with you?” Madeline cried and jumped to her feet, running into the kitchen.

Libby tried to help Emma up, but it required Madeline’s help when she came back from the kitchen. Together, they put Emma on the couch, and Madeline shoved a banana into Emma’s hand. “
Eat
it,” she ordered. “Eat it now.”

Emma took one bite of the banana and began to cry. “I’m so hungry,” she said tearfully.

Libby disappeared and returned a moment later with a bag of chips. “Eat that! I’m making you a sandwich!”

Emma choked down the banana and a few chips before Libby returned with a slab of ham between two thick slices of homemade bread. “What happened?” Libby asked Emma, stroking her hair.

“I’ll tell you,” Emma said, tears streaking her cheeks. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“What else is new? Just tell us,” Madeline said. “It is very possible that we could help, you know?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Emma said sadly between bites of food. “Maybe with Grant.”

Madeline and Libby exchanged a look.

“You can’t really be surprised,” Emma said flatly.

“
I’m
not,” Madeline said. She settled back onto the couch beside Emma and had a few potato chips as Emma began her story, beginning with the year Grant and Libby had come to Orange County.

She told them how she had been envious of Grant’s attention to Libby, and then had felt so overlooked when he had sent Libby back to Colorado. No one had told her, no one had warned her Libby was leaving. Soon after that, he left, too, without a word to Emma. Not even a goodbye.

Madeline uttered something under her breath about that, but motioned for Emma to continue.

So Emma told them about her mother and Wes, and Laura, and how she’d adored Laura, had wished she was like Laura. So had her mother, apparently, always comparing Emma to Laura, wanting Emma to be more like her stepsister.

“That’s horrible,” Libby muttered.

Emma told them about the summer of her seventeenth year, when Grant had returned to her life, wanting to be the father he’d never been. She had thought him so dashing, and she confessed how excited and hopeful she’d been. “I always wanted him to want me. Always.”

“Welcome to the club,” Libby sighed.

She told them about Laura and Grant, how she’d discovered them. “It’s horrible, right?” Emma said.

“Of
course
it’s horrible!” Madeline shouted angrily. “What a pig. What a
damn pig.
”

Emma told them how it was Laura everyone felt sorry for, that Laura was the one who had been devastated by the things Emma’s father had done. And how difficult it had been to live with that, and how she’d begun to understand that summer that she’d been playing second fiddle to Laura for years.

Emma admitted that she didn’t know when her relationship with men had begun to spiral out of control, but somewhere along the way, she’d begun to lure older men in, men old enough to be her father, and then take something from them. She told them about Grif, a rough man with rough appetites.

Emma could tell by the look of alarm on Libby’s face and the shock on Madeline’s how disgusted they were by her behavior and it made her feel awful. “Believe me, I hate me, too,” Emma said. “I feel so dirty all the time.”

“I don’t hate you,” Libby said instantly. “But
. . .
you didn’t do that to Cooper, did you?” she asked, wincing as she anticipated Emma’s answer.

“No. I mean, not at first.” She told them about running into Cooper in Beverly Hills, and how amazing she’d thought him. And then here, in Pine River, even though he’d known what she was, he had still cared about her. “He was able to see something in me that no one else had ever seen,” she said, her voice sounding as dead to her as she felt.

“Then for God’s sake, what happened?” Madeline exclaimed.

“Me! I happened! What we shared that day was
. . .”
She sighed to the ceiling. “There are no words for how incredible it was,” she said. “And he
. . .
he wanted something more. But I knew, I knew in my gut that even if I wanted it, I would not be able to live up to my end of the deal. I would do something to disappoint him. So I told him to go back to LA. I honestly wanted him to go back to LA. But then, I took his St. Christopher.”

“Oh my God,
why
?”
Libby exclaimed.

“God, Libs, if she knew that, she wouldn’t take them,” Madeline said.

Emma looked at her with surprise. “That’s what
I
said. But I think I know why now. I think I took it so he would come back.”

Madeline and Libby regarded her solemnly. “Well? He did, he came back, right?” Libby said hopefully.

“He did. And we talked. And we
. . .
well, me—I was honest. I told him the truth about myself.”

“Oh, Emma,” Madeline sighed.

“I had to, Madeline,” Emma said. “Isn’t it better that I tell him up front instead of him finding out down the road about the things I’ve done and all the issues I have? I love him. I really think I
love
him. But I’m my own worst enemy, and a leopard doesn’t change its spots, does it?”

“It does if it’s important enough. But you’ll never know, thinking like that,” Libby said, sounding angry.

“Why are
you
mad?” Emma asked.

“Because!” she said, casting her arms wide. “So far, you’ve told us about Grant, who we all know is a loser, and these other men who are so disgusting I can’t even
think
about them, and this
Grif
guy, who you chose because he was bad news. Don’t you see, Emma? You’ve never been with one decent guy in your life. How do you know you’d disappoint him? How do you know it wouldn’t be the best thing that ever happened to you? How do you know that it wouldn’t change you somehow and make you a better person? How can you know anything until you’ve at least tried it?”

“You can’t upend years of behavior,” Emma argued. “You can’t suddenly become socially adept. You know me, Libby,” Emma said. “
I
know me too well. I’ve been wanting to be wanted for so long that I
. . .”
Without warning, Emma burst into tears. Big, thick tears and gulping sobs, for all that she’d lost today.

The unexpected part of it was that Libby and Madeline wrapped their arms around her and cried, too.

“You’re not the only one,” Madeline said with a swipe of a tear beneath her eye. “Grant left me with the worst mother on the planet. And then threw you two at me after he’d died. I can see now that even as a kid, so much of my life was out of control that I had to control
something.
”

“Me, too,” Libby said. “I got moved around so much as a kid that I kept looking for that one place I actually belonged, you know? I needed a family, and when I finally had one, I couldn’t let go.”

“Did you tell Cooper you love him?” Madeline asked.

Emma shook her head. “I thought it would only make things worse. You know, the old, I-love-you, it’s-not-you-it’s-me shtick.”

“Yeah. Bad idea,” Madeline agreed.

“It’s so screwed up,” Emma said morosely. “The worst is
knowing
that it’s so twisted and not knowing how to untwist it.” She smiled sadly at Madeline. “I’m sorry that I’m the sister you got.”

“Me, too,” Madeline said gravely.

Libby gasped.

“Seriously,” Madeline said. “All those years of wanting sisters, and then I get one who bashes pickups with a golf club and spends a week in a psych hospital, and somehow manages to turn that around and build an amazing rehabilitation center for war vets.
Plus
manages to raise money for Leo’s van. And then another one who is amazingly beautiful and a straight-shooter, which I happen to like, and takes care of Leo every day—for free—and makes big donations to afterschool programs and who finally,
finally
found a way to open up to us. Yeah, I definitely got screwed.”

“You!” Libby scoffed. “What about me and Em?”

“Oh, definitely screwed,” Madeline said, nodding. “A super–control freak who goes around highlighting little chalk outlines around you two.”

Emma couldn’t help a sad laugh. “It’s not funny, because it’s so true. You’re very controlling.”

Madeline snorted. “God, Emma, never stop being you, do you promise? I think you’re the only one in my life I can trust to
never
beat around the bush.” She suddenly took Emma’s hand and Libby’s hand. “Look at us. Three misfits, three sisters. Three women who had one really shitty father. And somehow, I couldn’t have created better sisters myself.”

“You know what?” Libby said, her voice shaking a little. “I couldn’t ask for better, either.” She laid her head on Emma’s shoulder.

“Christ, I told you guys I wasn’t going to let you turn this into some Lifetime movie,” Emma complained, but she didn’t protest at all when Libby put her arms around her to hug her.