-29-
When they emerged from the bathroom, they found George had finished packing up the room. He'd piled it all up on Emma's bed and was waiting in the open doorway, texting on his phone. At the sight of him, so clean-cut and poshly dressed, so out of place in this run-down dump of a motel. George was such a germaphobe, she knew he must hate to even touch anything here, and yet he was here, uncomplaining. Finn was the same: less polished, perhaps, but equally out of place. They were here for her. A tiny smile cracked through the vail of misery that had engulfed her since discovering her car missing. These sweet, wonderful men! She couldn't leave them, even though the voice of her conscience insisted that leaving was the only way to keep them safe.
"I think that's everything," George said, pocketing his phone and gesturing to the pile on the bed. "I just need you to tell me whether to load it into my car or Finn's truck."
"Yours," Finn said, squeezing Emma's hand to let her know he had no hard feelings about her choice.
"No, Finn's," she corrected, lifting his arm by their joined hands and tucking herself beneath it. She was terrified to stay, so afraid that someone she loved would be hurt in the next attack. But having decided to stay, she might as well do the thing that would bring her the most comfort...and that meant Finn. She'd made up her mind that here was where she would rebuild her life, and Finn was an integral part of the life she wanted. She knew how it would hurt him if she chose to stay with George.
Finn pulled her against him in a sideways hug, and she closed her eyes and leaned into the shelter of his big body. He felt like safety, and she wanted to believe he could deliver on his promise. He kissed her temple. "Love you," he whispered.
She turned her head to nuzzle her cheek against his shoulder, but she didn't trust herself to speak.
They loaded the truck, then walked back to the office to turn in Emma's room key. Officer Nilsson was gone, and Delores reported that the viewing of the surveillance tape had not been fruitful.
"I's mostly a view of the office door, in case we have a break in. It doesn't show much of the parking lot at all, but that officer took the tape, just in case," she explained.
Emma had doubted there would be a video of the theft. Her luck just hadn't run in that direction lately.
After saying goodbye to Delores, Emma hugged George, thanked him for his help, and said she'd pick up Ludo on their way back to Finn's. George sighed. "I'm gonna miss that big ol' fur ball."
She wished she had Ludo already, as her hands felt empty and useless as she sat in the passenger seat while Finn followed George out of the lot. She hated the circumstances, but she wasn't sorry to be leaving the motel at all. She'd hated that dingy, nondescript little room, the sketchy, noisy neighbors and their never-ending drama, the need to keep Ludo crated all the time, or to leave him with George. She looked forward to seeing her dog and prayed that Finn wouldn't ever have reason to regret taking them in.
They didn't speak as the pavement rolled beneath them, but Emma didn't mind. She was wrung out and exhausted from all the talking they'd already done, though it was still only midmorning. She liked that Finn wasn't intimidated by silence, that he could let conversations lapse without feeling an obsessive need to fill the void. It was nice to be able to be with him and still have the space and privacy to be in her own head... not that her head was a comfortable place, just now.
"When do Catie and Phoebe get back?" Emma asked, a long while later. She would be glad to see Catie, but she was nervous about seeing more of Phoebe. Even though she trusted Finn's assurances about their relationship, she couldn't imagine that a closer acquaintance with the woman he'd almost married could be anything but awkward.
"Not until late. Phoebe had a full weekend planned."
"Did you have plans for the day? I don't want to disrupt your routine."
Finn glanced at her doubtfully. "My routine could use to be shaken up, and you know I'm overjoyed to have you around."
We'll see how long that lasts, Emma thought darkly, but she didn't say anything.
"To answer your question, though," he went on, "I plan to go online and then make some calls about a security system."
She bit her lower lip anxiously. Instinct urged her to object, since she hated seeing him undertake such an expense on her account. Yet should couldn't ask him to leave his home and family unprotected.
He reached across the center console and squeezed her thigh. "Hey, we've already discussed this, remember? The decision is made."
"That doesn't keep me from worrying about it."
Finn squeezed her leg again. "Love, I can't take this off your plate, but I can share the load. You're not alone."
She set her hand over his, lacing her fingers between his knuckles. There was comfort in his words, and she was more grateful than she could ever express. Yet she couldn't shake the worry that, lonely and frightening as it was, alone was safer. Alone put no one else in danger.
When they reached Wellsboro, Finn stopped at George's and they collected Ludo. Helen came out to say hello, but it was a strained conversation. Emma didn't tell her mother anything about the stolen car or anything else in her life, and Helen's only question was whether Phoebe was still in Olive's house. It was plain that she wanted to talk more about Phoebe, but since neither Finn nor Emma would indulge her curiosity, there wasn't much to say.
Back at Finn's, they brought her bags inside, and then Finn left her alone to settle in. He'd cleared a few drawers and some closet space for her in the weeks she'd stayed with him after her house had been vandalized, and it was a comforting surprise to find that space still waiting for her. Maybe Finn really did have room in his life for her, space he kept for her even in her absence. It made her nervous, tough. After spending the summer sending mixed signals and pushing her away as often as he lured her in, somehow they had reached a place where Finn was more committed to this relationship than Emma was, where he was all in while she was still on the fence.
Ludo had no such hesitation. He was thrilled to be back in this familiar house, where he could follow his mistress from room to room and didn't need to spend all of his time in a crate. He put his front paws on the bed hopefully, and Emma gave him a boost. She'd talk to Finn about his feelings on a dogs-on-the-bed policy later. (When they'd stayed here before, Ludo's injuries and the cone shaped collar he'd had to wear had made getting on and off the bed, or even up and downstairs, impossible.) For now, she wanted to spoil the pup. Those weeks in the motel had been awful for him... awful for both of them.
When she finished unpacking her meager wardrobe, Emma thought about going looking for Finn, but she curled up with Ludo on the bed instead. God, Finn's bed was so comfortable: big and soft, yet firm, with no lumps or noisy springs. The puffy comforter enveloped her like a cloud, and the sheets were smooth and cool and smelled like Finn.
She curled around Ludo, wrapped her arm around his barrel shaped body, and smiled weakly as he turned his head to lick her face. Ludo's uncomplicated love was such a gift, especially when she could feel depression settling over her like a weighted blanket, sapping her energy and her ambition. There was so much wrong. The last several months had been so full of setbacks and catastrophes, and Emma was so very tired of trying to roll with the punches.
****
Finn paid a hefty service fee for the home security company to send a representative out on a weekend, but if it would help Emma to feel safe, he'd consider it money well spent. He and the rep were out walking the perimeter of his lot and Emma's adjacent property when a State Police cruiser pulled in to Emma's driveway.
Andrea Greene got out and walked toward Emma's front door. Finn called out to greet her.
She turned and smiled. "Hi, Finn. Is your neighbor home?"
He shook his head. "Phoebe's gone to Boston with Catie. I expect them home tonight."
"I'm looking for Emma Wyatt, actually. Do you know where she's staying?"
Finn glanced overhead, toward his bedroom windows. Emma had been napping when he'd looked in on her, and he didn't want to disturb her. Especially not for more bad news.
"Have they found her car?" he asked quietly, afraid Emma might hear, even as he knew the distance and the closed windows would make that unlikely.
Andrea frowned. "You heard about that?"
He nodded, but did not feel the need to explain that he'd been with Emma when the theft was discovered. "Is there news?"
Andrea grim expression confirmed it, even before she said, "Yeah, I'm sorry to say. We found it burned out and gutted in an old gravel pit in Hartford. It's a total loss."
Finn's heart sank, though he'd been braced for such a discovery. Once again, he'd been hoping against all odds for a random crime instead of another attack targeted at Emma, but another act of vandalism-by-fire fit the pattern too closely for coincidence.
"Any leads, Officer?" asked Phil, the representative from the alarm company.
"Who are you, sir?" Andrea countered.
Phil introduced himself before Finn could. "Philip Sheldon, of Arrow Security Systems." He shook Andrea's hand politely.
Andrea turned to Finn in surprise. "An alarm system? For your place or Emma's?"
"Both," Finn answered.
She whistled. "You really think that's necessary?"
His brows rose. "You really think these incidents aren't connected?"
Andrea grimaced, and once again Finn had a sense of what she'd say before she said it. "No," she said slowly, drawing the word out, "but I don't get the sense that you're the target, Finn."
"If Em's a target, I'm a target," he announced steadfastly. "We're in this together." It felt good to say that out loud, to make a public declaration of sorts, even if only to Andrea.
Andrea's eyes widened. "I hadn't realized it was that serious." There was nothing in her tone but mild surprise, no hint of censure or disappointment.
Finn was confused. He knew Andrea had heard him announce to everyone at Stubb's the night before that he and Emma were still together, because of what she'd said when she sat down to share his table. "Relax. I don't want to talk about your girlfriend." Yet maybe she hadn't heard all of his rant, which made this conversation a bit awkward, especially since he and Andrea had dated, albeit only casually.
He shrugged off his discomfort and met her gaze steadily. "Well, it is," he declared, feeling oddly rebellious. Andrea had never struck him as a gossip, but he found himself hoping that she'd spread the word around town.
"Okay, then. Is she here? I should talk to her about the car," Andrea reminded him, her attention returning to the purpose for her visit.
Finn wanted to protect Emma from this unpleasantness as much as he could. "Is it really necessary? She had a rough morning, and I hate to wake her. Can't I tell her about the car?" After all, it wasn't as if the car would get any more totaled if it took Emma a few more hours to learn of it.
Andrea pulled a business card from the breast pocket of her uniform. "This is the number at the barracks. If she has questions, she should call and ask for the supervisor on duty."
Relief made Finn smile. "Thanks, Andrea. I appreciate it."
Andrea tipped the brim of her cap in farewell, then she strode back to her cruiser. Finn watched her go, and then he and Phil finished walking around the property.
Working out the details with Phil took at least another hour, but by the time they'd done, Finn was satisfied with the plan... and substantially poorer. The security company would send a crew to install the new system first thing in the morning, and within 24 hours, both Finn's house and Emma's cottage would be equipped with sensors on every door and window, alarms to wake up the whole block, closed circuit cameras, and enough exterior motion detecting lights to illuminate a football stadium. Finn suspected his neighbors would not appreciate these improvements, but so long as Emma was safe, he didn't care.
****
Emma woke to the clattering and clicking of the keys of Finn's laptop. He sat beside her in bed, typing industriously, his glasses obscuring a look of intense concentration. He seemed wholly absorbed in his work, but the second Emma moved, he closed the computer and set it aside, shifting his attention to her.
Emma's heart squeezed. Never in her whole life had she known anyone so attuned to her, so willing to put her above everything else going on. She hated that she had so little to offer in return for such attention, and worse, that her presence in Finn's life put him and Catie at risk.
"Sleep well?" he asked, reaching out to smooth her hair. Emma knew she must have a dreadful case of bedhead, and she reached up self-consciously to pat at her curls.
She shrugged. Naps in the middle of the day always left her groggy and disoriented, but she couldn't deny that it had been nice to escape reality for awhile. "What time is it?"
"A little after 4:00," Finn replied, pulling her into his lap as she sat up. She allowed it because her body craved his comfort, though her conscience protested that it would be safer to keep her distance. Too late, she thought, hoping to silence that little inner voice.
She tried to relax into Finn's embrace as he set a trail of soft kisses along her neck and shoulder, but she wasn't feeling it. "When does Catie get home?" she asked, hoping to change Finn's gears.
"Not until late," he answered, but although they had plenty of time, he seemed to read Emma's signals. He gently shifted her so that she was sitting sideways across his lap, so he could see her face. Once again, he smoothed her hair. One look at his too-serious expression, and Emma knew.
"The found my car."
He nodded. "Andrea, my friend who's a state trooper, stopped by a few hours ago. They found it burned out and abandoned in a gravel pit. I'm so, so sorry, love."
Emma pressed her face into Finn's shirt and shivered. She needed to breathe, to keep focused, to keep panic at bay. It was stupid to panic. From the moment the car went missing, she'd known it would end this way.
Finn held her, rubbing small circles against her back. "I met with the security firm. They're coming tomorrow to get us set up. This won't happen again, Emma. I swear they won't get to you again."
He couldn't make that promise, but she knew he would say whatever he could to make her stay. -And while a security system was no guarantee, it was a far better safeguard than anything she could do on her own. She told herself to be grateful.
"It's just a car. It was barely worth anything," she said dully. It was all I had left!, that stupid, annoying inner voice whined petulantly. "I'm more upset about George's cameras."
"I'll pay George back," Finn offered.
"No, you won't. It's my debt," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. She didn't know how she'd manage it, but Emma Wyatt paid her debts.
Wisely, Finn let it go. Initially, she felt relieved, but as the silence stretched between them and grew uncomfortable, she started to worry that he might only be humoring her.
"I'm not kidding, Finn. If you pay him, we're finished."
He nodded. "I hear you."
"I have a plan," she said, so he wouldn't think she was helpless, but after a pause, honesty compelled her to add, "Or at least I did."
"Tell me."
She hesitated. She hadn't planned to tell him about the Harvest Festival, and her work in the art show, until the day of the event. Now there wasn't much point in keeping the secret, though, particularly since it wasn't clear that she'd be able to participate. Not only George's cameras had been lost: most of her photos from the last week had been on those lost cameras.
Finn waited, still rubbing her back. Finally, she took the leap.
"I was going to show my work at the Harvest Festival. For weeks, I've been taking photos locally and making prints to sell. George and I figured I could get some exposure at the show, and hopefully enough people will see my work, and if they like it, they'll want to hire me to shoot their weddings and babies and family portraits and stuff. When I lived in Savannah, I wasn't exactly famous or anything, but I had steady work. I paid my bills. I could do that again, but everything keeps going wrong."
"That's brilliant, Emma. That's a fantastic idea," Finn said excitedly. "How can I help?"
She let her head fall back against his shoulder with an audible sigh. It was such a nice reaction, completely supportive, genuinely enthusiastic, and yet Emma felt too defeated to champion her own venture. "I was already so behind, having lost al of my equipment and portfolio in Georgia. Now I've gone and lost a bunch of George's equipment, too. It feels like I'm doomed to failure, and I'm taking my friends down with me."
"No," Finn argued, hugging her. "This is a good plan, an awesome plan. This will work. You can do it."
"How? The show is next weekend, and I've only got about half of the prints I need. I've lost George's cameras and a week's worth of work, and I don't have time to make it up. I can't get a show together in time."
"You can't give up. You have a plan, and it's a great plan, and I will do whatever you need to make it happen. What can I do?"
Emma groaned. "You're already doing more for me than I have any right to ask. So's George. You're both wonderful, but it's not enough. I'm so tired. I'm so defeated. I know I can't give up, but I don't know how to keep going," she confessed, in a small voice that quavered as she fought back tears.
Finn tucked his fingers under her chin and tipped her head up gently so he could see her eyes. He looked very, very serious. "I can see how you'd feel that way. I don't think you're crazy or overreacting. I think everything you're feeling is absolutely normal, considering all that you've been through."
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not sure I needed your validation, but thanks," she said tersely.
He shook his head. "You don't. I just want to be clear that I think you're completely sane and that everything you're feeling is rational, before I suggest that it might be good for you to talk to a counselor. I love you. I need you to get through this, and I don't know how to help you. You said yourself that my help and George's isn't enough."
She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, so very fond of him in this moment. He was so afraid she'd be offended by this advice, but she wasn't. "Babe, I am holding on by a thread. I wouldn't blame you if you did think I was crazy. I'm at least halfway there. But counseling is just one more thing on a long list of luxuries I can't afford. I've got no health insurance. I've burned through most of my savings-"
"Your mental health is not a 'luxury,'" Finn interjected.
"As long as the therapists expect to be paid, it is."
"My mom was a psychologist," he told her. "She worked with teenagers mostly."
"She must have been a saint," Emma replied, not sure where this topic shift was headed. Finn spoke of his parents so rarely, though, that she was beyond curious. "Teenagers are tough enough when they're not crazy."
"Going to counseling doesn't mean you're crazy," he chided. "Anyway, my mother's practice was part of a group of providers here in town. Her best friend, Caroline, is still working. She's an old friend, and I'm certain he would fit you into her schedule if I asked. I think you'd like Caro. Will you please let me call her?"
Emma bit her lip, hating to accept yet more help, but there was no question that she needed it. She looked up at Finn's anxious face and nodded.
He smiled in relief, kissed her forehead, and reached for his phone on the nightstand.
"Now?!" Emma gasped, alarmed. "I doubt she has office hours on a Sunday."
"She's my mother's best friend," he repeated, thumbing through his contacts. "She's like an honorary aunt to me." He held his phone to his ear, and Emma waited as he listened to it ring.
Ten minutes later, 'Aunt Caro' was on her way over to conduct a house call, and Emma was mortified, nervous... and secretly relieved.
*****
-30-
When Caro Newcomb arrived, Finn made introductions, served them coffee and a plate of Oreos, and then left them alone in the kitchen while he went back upstairs to write.
Both Emma and Caro watched him go; Emma startled by his defection, Caro with a fond smile, which she turned on Emma as soon as his footfalls made it up the stairs.
"I'm sorry for your troubles, but if this is what it takes for Finn to invite me over for coffee, I can't be entirely sorry," she admitted. "I've missed him."
Emma knew how easy it was to miss Finn, so she nodded, not sure what else to say.
"You're the first girlfriend he's ever introduced me to, since Phoebe."
"Finn doesn't get out much," Emma said quietly.
"Hmmm. Still, it's significant. You're significant," Caro noted. "Shall we sit here, or would you be more comfortable if we take our coffee and cookies into the living room?"
She shrugged, feeling intensely awkward. "I don't know how this is done."
Caro's brows rose. "A therapy noob?"
Emma nodded.
Caro smiled reassuringly. "It's easy. We're just going to talk, so all that matters is that you're comfortable. I'd prefer the living room, but some people don't like the couch: too Freudian."
"The living room is fine," Emma agreed, picking up the plate of cookies. She wasn't hungry, but having dragged this woman out of her house on a Sunday evening, cookies seemed the least she could do.
Emma sat in the corner of the couch and hugged a throw pillow in her lap as Caro settled herself into Finn's leather recliner. Caro was a tall, slim, stately woman in her 60s, with close-cropped silver hair and sharp features. She reminded Emma of a brown-eyed Judi Dench.
"Why don't you start by telling me about yourself generally, and then get into whatever's going on that spurred Finn to call me?" Caro prompted.
Emma frowned. "'Generally' is too ... well, general. I don't know what you need to know."
Caro's eyes were teasing. "I just met you. You know better than I do." She reached for a cookie and took a bite, and when Emma still didn't speak, she suggested, "Think of this as a spa treatment, not as a doctor's appointment. It's a luxury in our culture, to be able to talk about oneself without feeling guilty or self-conscious about taking too much of the spotlight. What?" she asked, noting Emma startle at her words.
"Before we called you, I told Finn therapy was a luxury I couldn't afford. He disagreed."
The older woman smiled. "It can feel like a luxury, but sometimes it's very necessary. I asked for your general background because sometimes it's easier for people to start there rather than jumping into the deep end of the problem, but if you want to dive in, we can do that. Tell me why Finn is so worried about you?"
Emma took a deep breath. She could do this. "I'm worried, too. I've always considered myself reasonably 'together,' but now I'm in a situation where I just don't think I can cope. It's just too much."
She picked up her coffee and sipped at it for warmth and fortification as she brought Caro up to speed on recent events. Caro interrupted rarely, only to ask brief questions for clarity, or prompting questions like, "What happened next?" Emma told her about Gary, about the fires, about her lost car and George's lost equipment, mentioning the ups and downs in her relationship with Finn as they fit into the narrative.
When she finally finished, Caro's delicate brows were pitched downward in a frown.
"You were expecting something easier?"
Caro's expression cleared. "Easy? From a mental health standpoint, your case is easy. There's nothing wrong with you that wont be fixed as soon as this stalker is behind bars. The difficulty is: that's a job for police, not me."
Emma sagged back against the sofa cushions. "This is a waste of your time, then. I'm so sorry to wreck your weekend."
"Hon, your weekend was wrecked. I'm visiting an old friend and his new lady love."
Emma blushed at the old-fashioned moniker (this, from the same woman who'd called Emma a "therapy noob"!), but it wasn't enough to cheer her up. "You can't help me."
"I didn't say I couldn't help, I said I couldn't fix you. You're not broken. I can't fix your stalker problem anymore than you can, but I can help you with coping strategies to manage your stress and anxiety."
"Like breathing exercises or yoga or something?"
"No, although both might help. I'm talking about safety planning. Having a plan in mind, ahead of time, for dealing with a crisis. Knowing who you will call, where you will go, having everything ready ahead of time so you don't have to think about it."
"How do you plan for something like this?" Emma asked skeptically.
"Well, first let's try to pin down exactly what 'this' is. What is the worst case scenario you imagine?"
Emma swallowed back a lump of anxiety. She had so many nightmare scenarios, but one floated above the others, the source of her resistance to accepting help. "If anything happened to Finn, or Catie, or this house, because of me."
Caro nodded. "Okay, so we need to plan for that," she said calmly. "You need a plan to stay in touch, so you know if something happens. Do you all have cell phones? Catie, too?"
Emma nodded.
"Keep them with you all the time. Make sure they're always charged. Agree to keep in touch with one another. Check in by text message every hour, or every stop, if you're out running errands. Okay?"
She nodded again.
"Next, you need a plan for where you will meet if something happens. Maybe at the police station, or at a friend's house. Plan to carry extra cash at all times."
Emma hiccoughed. "I don't have any extra cash."
The older woman sighed. "I'm sure that's a source of anxiety, too. I don't know the details of your relationship with Finn, but I know he cares about your safety, and I know he has a comfortable savings. Maybe you and he can come up with a contingency plan -- a credit card you can use in emergencies, or some cash you can carry and use only if you absolutely have to. I can tell by your expression you hate this idea, but you need to remember that this is for Finn's peace of mind as well as your own, right?"
Emma shook her head miserably. "I hate this. I hate that this is my life."
"This is not your whole life. It's a bad patch, and it's temporary. Hopefully, the police will catch this stalker soon, and your life will go back to normal, but you need a plan to stay safe until then," Caro urged bracingly. "Have you heard the expression 'fake it 'til you make it'?"
"I'm not sure I have the energy to fake it," she said wearily.
Caro's gentle smile was sympathetic. "Oh, hon, it's so important. Attitude has a real, measurable impact on health, so if you keep a bright outlook, you actually will feel better. Even more than that, though, you need to do it because Catie needs you to."
"Catie doesn't want me to lie to her," Emma said with certainty.
"No, she's too smart for that. Catie knows you're going through tough times, and it's good to be honest with her. It's one thing to let her see you struggle, though, and quite another to let her see you give up. Catie is going to have her own struggles in life, and right now, she's looking around at the adults in her life, and internalizing strategies for coping. If you crawl into bed and give up, or if you run away, you'll be teaching Catie the wrong lesson."
Emma's eyes filled with tears. Caro watched, waiting, while her warning sunk in. Eventually, Emma wiped her eyes and confessed, "I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I feel awful saying so, because I love Catie. I love being with her and taking care of her, and of course I want to do what's best for her. I just can't shut up the voice in my head that says the best thing I could do for her and Finn is to disappear, because then they won't be in danger."
Caro shook her head decisively. "You're going in circles. You need to decide: stay or go, and then you need to own that decision and move on. You'll always have doubt. You'll always wonder about the road not taken. You can't just stand at the fork in the road, agonizing over the decision. So, right now: Stay or Go?"
Emma's tears flowed harder. She'd been over this and over this, and none of the options felt right. Yet she had made the decision. She was here. She just had to figure out how to live with her choice.
"Stay," she told Caro. "But I'm terrified."
"Fake it 'til you make it," Caro repeated. "And don't be too proud to accept help."
Emma nodded. She pulled several tissues from the box on the coffee table and mopped up her face. She didn't feel much better, but she didn't want to take too much of Caro's time, especially since Finn was paying for it. Besides, there was no easy fix, short of the stalker being arrested. She took a steadying breath and stood up.
"Thank you for coming. Let me tell Finn we're done. He'll want to say goodbye."
"We're done for today. I'm going to want to check in with you in a few days, or even sooner, if things get worse."
Emma nodded again, afraid of the possibility of things getting worse, but relieved that Caro would be there. She ran upstairs.
Finn must have been listening for her, because he came out of his office before she'd even made it to the top of the stairs. Upon seeing the remnants of her tears, he pulled her into his arms and demanded, "What's wrong?" He sounded fierce, as if he'd gladly take on her problems, as a knight might take on a dragon.
"Nothing new," she murmured into his shirt, accepting the comfort of his embrace. "Caro's downstairs. I thought you'd want to see her out."
He nodded. "Come with me, and then we'll have dinner." He kept hold of her hand as they walked downstairs, and as soon as they got to the bottom, he tucked her against his side and kept an arm around her as he spoke to Caro.
"I don't want to violate Emma's confidentiality, but is there anything I need to know?"
Caro turned to Emma. "What do you think?"
Emma shrugged, though not hard enough to dislodge Finn's arm from her shoulders. "Nothing I told you is secret."
"It is, actually," Caro corrected her. "What do you think Finn needs to know?"
Emma glanced up at him. "I'm going to take it day by day. We're supposed to make a safety plan, in case something happens. And I'm not going to be too proud to accept help," she reported dutifully.
Caro smiled, pleased, and Finn hugged her close and kissed her hair. "That sounds like a good start," he approved.
"I'll come by again, say, Wednesday night? After I finish at the office," Caro suggested, holding her phone ready. She added the appointment to her calendar at Emma's nod, then tucked her phone into her bag and reached for her blazer.
"I'd invite you to stay for supper, but the larder's pretty bare," Finn apologized. "We'll give you a real meal Wednesday."
"Sounds good, and I hope I'll see Catie as well."
Finn promised she would, and he walked her out to her car. Emma waited in the kitchen, checking the fridge and cupboards. Finn had told the truth: the fridge was full of old takeout containers and expired cold cuts, almost as bad as it had been when Emma started working as his housekeeper. She couldn't help but smile. Her life might be a bus wreck, but at least she could clean a fridge.
She pulled the trash can over and started emptying the fridge, and when Finn came back inside, he said, "You don't need to do that."
"If not this, I'd probably just go back upstairs and get back into bed. It's nice to have something productive to do, honestly."
Finn looked chagrinned. "I didn't do the shopping this weekend."
She couldn't judge him; he'd spent most of the weekend taking care of her problems, after all. "I can do it tomorrow, if you lend me the truck."
He shook his head and stepped between her and the trash, interrupting her work. He took an expired carton of milk from her and threw it out, then gently spun her around so she faced him. "You don't work for me any more, love," he reminded her.
"No, now I live here. I need to pull my own weight."
Finn's face lit up with pleasure. "You live here. I like how that sounds."
She tried to pull back, her mouth open. "No, I meant, I'm staying here."
"Day by day," he interrupted, reminding her. "I'm glad to have you here for however long it lasts. And it's not your job to clean up after me."
"It keeps me off the streets," she said, turning back to the mess in the fridge.
Finn must have understood her need to be busy, because he let her get to it, but he stayed close. He took a box of pasta from the cupboard and set a pot of water to boil.
"How's your writing going?" Emma asked, tired of being the sole topic of conversation and concern.
"Much better. I missed my publisher's deadline, but I got an extension, and thanks to you, the rewrite will be so much better than the original. It took me a while to get started: I had to reread Tyson's journals,"--He gave a theatrical shudder for effect--"but it's so clear now that you were right, I can't believe I missed it."
"You see what you expect to see, and you grew up with the legend that Tyson did it."
"Exactly," he agreed. "The revelation that he didn't is going to be great for sales, at least around here, where people know the case. You want to read what I've finished so far? I'm a little over halfway through."
"I'd like that," she said honestly, though she was nervous about it. He said he appreciated her feedback, but he'd been so mad the morning they'd last discussed his writing. What if she read the rewrite and still didn't think it worked? Finn wouldn't be so gracious of her criticism then. What right did an out-of-work photographer have, criticizing the work of a bestselling author anyway? Why would he even listen to her? And yet she loved that he did listen. She loved the idea that her observations might be useful to him in his work, that she might be able to give something back to him--beyond her housekeeping skills--after all he'd done for her.
*****
By the time Emma finished scrubbing out the now nearly empty refrigerator, Finn had made a pot of penne and heated canned vodka sauce. Parmesan cheese was one of the few things to survive the purge of the fridge, so they garnished the pasta with it.
Finn apologized as they sat down. "Sorry it's not haute cuisine."
"It's fine. I'm really not hungry."
He frowned anxiously. He couldn't blame her, with the day she'd had, but she was already a good bit slimmer than she'd been in the summer. Her motel room had had an ancient microwave, a minifridge, and a hot plate: he couldn't imagine she'd been eating well. Yet her weight loss didn't seem like something he could mention. Men weren't even supposed to notice stuff like that, much less bring it up, and he was already afraid she would bolt out of his life at the slightest provocation.
She was eating at least. Not with gusto or anything, but she was making the effort. Finn let let himself be satisfied with that, and he inhaled his own serving and went back for more.
He waited until Emma had finished at least half of her dinner before he asked about the safety plan she'd said they needed to make.
Sure enough, she put down her fork and released a heavy sigh. "We need a plan for what to do if there's another attack... here, or if something happens to one of us, or to Catie."
The very idea made Finn's innards contract in sick anxiety, but he knew they had to think about it, talk about it, and plan for it. "What sort of plan?"
Emma picked up her fork again, but only used it to push her penne around her plate as she spoke. "Things like how to get in touch in an emergency -- we have to keep our cell phones charged and with us at all times."
Finn nodded, relieved that this, at least, was so simple and sensible. "I'll talk to Catie."
"We nee to warn Phoebe, too. She's in my house," Emma noted.
He knew she was right, and he loved her for thinking of it. She was the one most in danger, and yet she worried about everyone else, too, even someone with so little personal connection to her as Phoebe. "Okay. What else?"
Emma's cheeks darkened. "Caro suggested we carry extra cash for emergencies... and I don't have any." She kept her head down, watching her fork line pasta up around the edge of her plate, and did not look at Finn.
He rose, circled the table, and knelt beside her chair to put himself in her line of sight. He put his hand on her thigh. "Sweetie, you know I'd be happy to help you with this, but I know you won't let me."
Emma took a deep, tremulous breath. "Yes I will," she whispered.
His head jerked up in surprise.
She went on. "I don't want to. I hate that I need help at all, but I know that I do."
Finn was so relieved not to have to argue about it that he grabbed her in a hug, which was awkward because he was on the floor at her side and she was in the chair, still pulled up close to the table, but he didn't care. He hugged her around the waist and pressed his face to her lap, and when she put her hands down--one on his back, one in his hair, both so gentle--he nearly wept with gratitude.
That's when tires crushed over the stones in the driveway, and reluctantly, Finn lifted his head. "Catie's home."
Emma bit her lower lip nervously and lifted her hands. "Oh, good."
They rose. Emma cleared the plates from the table, emptying her scraps into the compost bin on the counter. She was at the sink when Catie barreled through the door, Phoebe just behind her.
Finn greeted Catie with a hug, which ended abruptly when Catie noticed Emma and pulled away, shrieking her name.
Emma dried her hands and opened her arms to hug Cate, all while glancing uncertainly at Phoebe, who waited just inside the door.
"You're here! I didn't see your car," Catie exclaimed excitedly.
"I, ah, lost my car," Emma murmured.
"What?!"
"Long story," Finn interrupted, sparing Emma. "How was Boston?"
Catie's "Fine" was too vague, so he turned to Phoebe.
Phoebe's smile looked a little forced. "We had fun," she said unconvincingly.
"Really?" Finn asked.
"Yes, the city was fun," she insisted, but stepped up to the island and said tensely, "but three hours is a long time to spend in the car with a kid who won't talk to you."
"Did you fight?" he asked, looking between Catie, whose expression was defiantly nonchalant, and Phoebe, who just looked tired.
Phoebe shook her head. "She just won't talk."
"She's right here," Catie said stiffly. "I talk. When I have something to say."
"Ah." Finn could imagine Phoebe's frustration. Growing up with him, Catie wasn't afraid of silence. She didn't talk for the sake of talking. "Sorry. That's probably my fault. I'm not the guy to teach her the art of small talk."
Phoebe harrumphed in acknowledgement. She tipped her chin toward Emma. "What happened here?"
"Long story, like I said," Finn repeated.
"Do I need to move out?"
Emma shook her head. "Oh, no. You paid in advance. I'll stay here."
"Really?" Catie asked in a happy squeal.
Phoebe's lips tightened, and Finn hoped she was hurt, not jealous.
"Really. You need to know, though--you both need to know--" Emma caught Phoebe's gaze seriously, "to keep an eye out." She launched into an abbreviated explanation of the situation.
"They stole your car?!" Catie gasped.
While Emma spoke to Catie, Phoebe turned to Finn, her delicate brows furrowed this worry. Pitching her voice low, she hissed, "Is this a good idea?"
He shrugged helplessly. "I have a security company coming tomorrow to install a state-of-the-art security system here and next door. I think we'll be safe, but... I love her." It was the beginning and end of his explanation on the subject, the beginning and end of his analysis. He needed her here, safe or not.
Phoebe pursed her lips. "Well. I'm going to go. Good night, Catie. Thanks for coming with me."
"G'night," Catie said absently.
"Catie," Finn said warningly.
Impatience flickered across Catie's features, but she quickly schooled it. She turned to Phoebe and said politely, "Good night, Phoebe. Thanks for everything. I had a good time."
"Me, too," Phoebe agreed. "Good night, Emma. I'm sorry about your car."
"Thank you," Emma said softly.
Finn walked Phoebe out and returned to find Catie hopping excitedly around the kitchen, peppering Emma with questions. Emma looked tired and drawn, not up to meeting Catie's enthusiasm. He put his arms around Emma from behind and told his daughter, "I know you're glad Emma's here--so am I--but it's been a rough day, kid. Tell me about your weekend. Did you give Phoebe the silent treatment the whole time?"
"No!" Catie insisted, offended. "Dad, she talks all the time. It's like she's afraid to listen to her own thoughts."
"Some people are," Emma said quietly.
Ludo lumbered into the kitchen, evidently having woken from one of his frequent naps. He sniffed hopefully around the trash can, and then lumbered over to Emma, where Catie noticed him.
"Ludo!" she exclaimed, kneeling to love him up.
"He must need to go out," Emma guessed.
"I'll take him!" Catie happily volunteered. Emma retrieved his leash from a cloth grocery bag full of his supplies and gave it to Catie, urging her to be careful.
When the girl and dog headed outside, Emma watched from the kitchen window until they disappeared around the back of the house. "She doesn't understand," she fretted.
"Yes, she does. She's a smart kid. She'll keep her eyes open," Finn assured her. "She's just so happy you're here, it outweighs her worry."
Emma said nothing; she just kept watch at the window until Catie and Ludo returned.
"Is he hungry? Can I feed him?" Catie asked, putting the leash back in the bag and pulling out Ludo's stainless steel dog bowls.
"He would love that," Emma approved.
Catie cheerfully scooped food into a bowl, then filled the second bowl with water, and set them both down on the floor in the laundry room, where they had been during the weeks Emma had stayed here after the fire at her house. It was good to have her back, and though Finn didn't consider himself a dog person, it was nice to have Ludo's things back in place, too. It felt normal. Right. He hoped it would help Emma feel at home here.
"Homework?" he asked Catie, when she'd finished getting Ludo settled in. "It's late."
"I did most of it in the car, but yeah, I've still got algebra."
"Better get to it," he said, and she grabbed her bags and headed upstairs, stopping to hug Emma on her way.
"I'm so happy you're here."
Emma hugged her back tightly, closing her eyes against unshed tears. "Thanks, baby," she said thickly.
Catie ran off, and Finn took over the hug. He kissed Emma's forehead. "How are you doing?"
She shrugged. "I'm just going to finish these dishes and then go to bed."
"Go. I'll clean up," he offered, giving her a gentle push toward the stairs.
*****
-31-
In the morning, Finn woke early to make sure Catie got up and off to school. He left Emma sleeping. He knew she'd had a restless night, as her tossing and turning had woken him several times. Over breakfast, he talked to Catie about the need to be careful and to pay attention, and to keep her phone with her at all times. He hoped he wasn't freaking her out, though she seemed fine.
He walked Catie to school (walking Ludo, too), and when he got back, Emma barreled down the stairs, wild-eyed.
"Finn? Ludo! Oh, God. I woke up, and no one was here...!"
He apologized and pulled her close. He could feel her heart racing as he held her against his chest. "Shhh, I'm sorry. I brought Catie to school. I should have left a note."
Emma pulled away, still shaky. She knelt down to rub Ludo's belly, something he'd seen her do to calm herself down. She sighed. "I should have thought of that. I'm a basket case."
"No."
"I am," she insisted, cutting off his protest. "I know I kept you up. I'm sorry. Tonight, I'll sleep on the couch."
"No you won't. Then neither of us would sleep." Not wanting to argue, he changed the subject. "Are you hungry? We've got bagels in the freezer, and there's cereal, or oatmeal..."
She agreed to let him heat a bagel, and while it toasted, he asked about her plans for the day.
She shrugged. "I said I'd go shopping, but I'd need to borrow your truck."
"We can both go. I think we should stick close." He'd thought so even before her reaction to his brief absence that morning, but now he was sure.
She arched her brows. "You want to be joined at the hip until there's an arrest?"
Finn didn't think he'd mind keeping her close until the end of time, but he knew she wasn't ready to hear it. "Within reason," he said simply.
So after she ate, they shopped, and returned home in time to meet the crew from Arrow Security. Emma didn't seem to want to have much to do with the process of seeing the alarm system installed. She claimed to need a nap, though it had only been a few hours since she woke.
It took the whole afternoon for the crew to finish and show Finn, Phoebe, and Catie (who came home from practice around 5:00) how to arm and disarm the keypads now mounted on the walls beside all of the doors in both houses. Emma never appeared, and eventually Finn went upstairs to look for her.
He found her in his bed, staring vacantly out the window at the gray, darkening sky. Finn sat down on the mattress beside her, and she didn't even blink. Finn had an uncomfortable sense of deja vu, flashing back to those dark days after Catie's birth, when Phoebe hadn't been able to summon the energy to get out of bed.
He put his hand on her hip and squeezed gently. "Should I call Caro?"
Emma blinked and finally acknowledged him. She pulled her hand out of the covers and reached down to lay her palm over his. "Sorry. I'm trying."
He turned her hand over and laced his fingers through hers. "How can I help?"
She shook her head and offered no suggestions.
"I'll call Caro."
"No. I'm okay," she said, and she got out of bed to prove it. "Is Catie home from school?"
He nodded.
"And the security system is in?"
"I'll show you how it all works."
She shrugged noncommittally.
"You hate it, don't you?"
"I hate that it's necessary."
"Me, too," he agreed.
"I hate that I can't pay for it," she added.
"Please stop worrying about money. I only care that we're safe."
Emma disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. She was in there for a long while, and Finn waited, indecisive. He appreciated her need for privacy and space, and he didn't wan to hover, but he was worried. He paced outside the bathroom door, trying to guess what she was doing from the sounds of water rushing through the pipes. He felt like a creepster, but when she finally emerged, hale and whole, with her hair damp and her face clean, he was breathless with relief.
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, her temples, her jaw, and finally, her lips. Emma opened her mouth to him, but otherwise stood motionless. Not stiff or resisting, just... still. Passive. Unresponsive.
Finn sighed, feeling like a beast as her clean smell and soft skin heated his arousal despite her obvious disinterest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pawing at you. I know your heart's not in it."
She tucked her head under his chin and leaned against him, hugging him. "My heart is yours, Finn. I'm just... busted."
"You're not." He refused to believe it. "We'll get through this."
"Hopefully without any casualties," she said grimly.
****
Having slept so much of the day, Emma wasn't ready for sleep when bedtime came. She'd not expected a problem, because despite the long nap, she still felt warn to threads. Yet she lay in the dark, willing herself to sleep, as her mind just raced and raced with worry.
None of her worries were new, either. She was still going in circles, torturing herself with imaginings of all the ways the universe might punish Finn and Catie for their kindness to her, and punish Emma for bringing others into her mess. Caro had told her to own her decision, but Emma didn't know how. She felt like they were all living under the Sword of Damocles, and it was her fault.
Finn must have sensed her disquiet, because he turned in the darkness, reached for her, and tugged her across soft sheets until she was up against the sleepy heat of his body. "Can't sleep?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
"I'm sorry. I'll go downstairs so I won't keep you up."
He didn't let go of her. "Can I read to you? Sing to you?"
"Do you even sing?" she asked, amused at the very idea.
He kissed her shoulder and admitted, "Not well, but I do have a small repertoire of off-key lullabies I sang to Catie when she was small."
He started singing 'All the Pretty Little Horses' in a low, husky voice that did indeed wander off-key now and again, but was all the sweeter for it. If he'd been more practiced, more musically inclined, his willingness to make himself vulnerable in the effort to soothe her wouldn't have been the same gift.
It took a long, long while for sleep to come, but Finn stayed close, humming soft melodies against her hair, holding her in the shelter of his body, until Emma finally felt safe enough to rest.
*****
-32-
"Ludo and I are walking Catie to school. Home by 8:00."
Emma woke to a note on her pillow. A glance at the nightstand clock revealed that it was already 8:20. She got out of bed, cleaned up in the bathroom, and was dressing when Finn came into the bedroom, a camera in his hands.
"Where did you get that?" she asked warily.
He held it out to her. "It's mine. I haven't used it much in a few years. Mostly I used to take pictures of Catie, but she hasn't had much patience with that lately. I doubt this is up to your standards, but I thought it might help you get ready for your show."
Emma frowned. It was Tuesday. The show was now just three days away, and she wasn't anywhere near ready. "I don't think I can do it. There isn't time."
"You can. I'll help. Whatever you need. It's a gorgeous day; the foliage is almost at peak. We'll go out and hike around in the woods. I'd love to see you at work."
The task felt insurmountable, but Emma didn't know what to do. If she backed out the Festival, George would be left in a lurch. He wouldn't have time to find someone to take her place, and her absence might reflect badly on him. After all he'd done for her, that was a poor way to repay him.
She took the camera from Finn and studied it. It was a respectable digital camera with a decent telephoto lens. It was outdated, probably ten years old, but it had been top of the line in its day. If she kept in mind its limitations... this could be serviceable. Not her best work, but probably good enough to give people a sense of what she could do. That was the purpose of participating in the Festival, after all: to get enough exposure for her art to line up paying work.
"What do you think?" Finn asked.
"I can work with this," she decided. "Thank you."
"Can I come with you? I don't want to get in the way of your creative process, but ... I don't want you alone right now," he said apologetically.
Emma understood. "I don't want to be alone," she admitted.
After breakfast, they hopped in Finn's truck. "Where to?" he asked.
"Take me to your favorite place," Emma suggested, the borrowed camera in her lap and Ludo in the back of the cab, panting through the gap between their seats.
Finn grinned and started the truck. He drove out of town west, away from the interstate and the New Hampshire border. Emma wasn't familiar with this more rural area, and despite her depression, she felt the stirrings of excitement as they drove through picturesque villages and along narrow country roads. The autumn foliage was spectacular--far more impressive than Emma had known in Georgia.
After driving for nearly an hour, Finn pulled into a leaf-strewn pulloff beside a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere. When Emma got out of the truck, she could hear water moving nearby, but otherwise it was so quiet: no traffic, no barking dogs (though Ludo sniffed quietly along the edge of the road), no radios or televisions or other people-noise.
Finn took her hand and led her to a narrow trail at the roaside, which Ludo had already discovered. After just a few paces, Finn released her hand a let her go ahead, since the path wasn't wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. The trail zigzagged in switchbacks down the side of a steep, wooded ravine.
Emma looked back at Finn uncertainly. "This looks like it might be a good place to hide my body."
"Good thing you trust me," he retorted.
"We have to climb back out to get back to the truck, right?" she asked, when they'd gotten about two-thirds of the way down the ravine. "I'm going to wish you had killed me."
"We're almost there," he promised, though she wasn't worried about the down: it was the climbing back up that would be a bitch.
The water was louder now. Emma was sure they were close to a river, but she hadn't seen it yet. Ludo was excited, his little round body barreling down the path at three times his normal lumbering pace, which meant she actually had to hustle to keep up.
Sure enough, the trail leveled out and rounded a bend. The trees thinned, and suddenly they were alongside a rushing river, about twenty feet wide and of uncertain depth, its white water rushing and foaming over and among boulders and it wended its way downhill. Emma could see why Finn had brought here here: the river, the autumnal splendor of the forest, the mountains rising to a brilliant blue sky. It was breathtaking.
"What's the verdict? Worth the walk?" Finn asked.
Emma hugged him, grateful that he'd shared this place with her. "It's perfect. Do you come here often?"
"I fish here sometimes."
"You fish?" she asked, surprised. Like the lullabies, this was a reminder of all she still didn't know about him.
He nodded. "I grew up fishing with my dad. I took Catie a few times, hoping to carry on the tradition, but she never got into it. -And she doesn't like to eat the fish we catch, so mostly now I just catch and release. But yeah, I like fishing. I like the quiet and the time out in nature, and I like the sense of accomplishment when I catch something, even when I just let it go again."
"What do you catch out here?"
"Trout, mostly. The occasional freshwater salmon, especially if the Fish and Game Department has stocked the stream."
"Will you teach me to fish someday?"
Finn's face broke into an eager grin. "I would love that."
Emma took dozens of pictures as they walked upstream. Eventually, they came out of the trees at a curve in the river, and she stopped, awestruck, as she first beheld a waterfall pouring over a huge rock formation some thirty feet into a wide, deep pool.
Finn squeezed her hand. "Now you see why this is my favorite spot. This is Webster Falls. Not many people know about it, even locals. It's a great swimming hole, but since it's such a hike to get in here, it's often deserted, even in summer." He pulled her closer, nudging his hips against her backside so that she could feel his anticipation. "Maybe next summer I'll take you skinny-dipping."
Emma shivered, her own arousal stirring. She tipped her head up to kiss him, opening her mouth to his head and shifting her hips to brush tighter against him. "It's beautiful," she breathed.
"You're beautiful," he countered. They kissed until he broke away with a groan. "It's cold and muddy and you have work to do. Sorry."
"Never sorry," she said with a grin, but she took his point. She raised the camera and started walking the shore, snapping photos as she climbed up on the rocks at the top of the falls, heading back downstream to capture some distance shots, taking off her shoes and socks to wade out into the freezing water and climb onto a boulder in the middle of the stream. She captured the falls from all angles.
"I want to come back again in all the seasons," she said. "Maybe every month."
"Whenever you want," Finn promised.
*****
After at least forty minutes at the falls, Emma put the camera down and put her arms around Finn. She gave him a long, enthusiastic kiss that stole his breath and knocked him off balance, literally. He fell back against a giant boulder, and Emma stayed with him, waking his baser instincts until he wanted to pick her up and brace her against the rock as he thrust into her. She wasn't ready for that, though, so he broke the kiss and pulled back while he still remembered that rough boulder sex was not on the day's agenda.
"Hi," he said, breathing like he'd just run a sprint. "I've missed you."
Emma smiled, a more solid, genuine smile than the few fleeting, forced, ghost smiles that were the best she'd been able to manage lately. "Hi. I'm coming back to you, I think."
He kissed her again, more carefully this time. He didn't want to get sucked in, or push too hard. "I'm so glad."
"This is exactly what I needed, and I didn't know. The scenery, the foliage, the falls ... they're perfect for photos, but this: being outside, getting exercise, being with you -- this is what I needed. Next time I can't drag myself out of bed, remember this moment, and carry me out to the woods."
Finn brushed her curls back from her face. "We're the same, that way. When I need to get out of my head, I go out for a hike or a paddle. It works every time."
Emma's expression grew doubtful, the glint in her eyes dimming. "I wouldn't say I'm cured. Everything that was wrong is still very, very wrong. But this is good. It's helping."
"I'm not expecting a miracle. I just want you to have a break from worrying."
They hiked slowly back to the truck, stopping frequently so Emma could snap more pictures. They made a lot of stops on the way back to town, too. Finn pulled over whenever Emma asked, so that she could take pictures of barns and stone walls, a covered bridge, an old church, pastures full of cattle, crumbling brick mill buildings, a cornfield, an ancient cemetery, and a fallow field occupied by scores of migrating Canada geese. It didn't occur to him to be impatient; he was so glad to see her engaged in her work.
*****
"It seems like you got a lot done today," Finn noted, as they pulled into the parking lot of Catie's school. It was time to pick her up from soccer practice. "Are you feeling better about being ready for the Festival?"
Emma shrugged. "I won't really know until I can look at the photos on the computer. George has some photo editing software I've been using to clean up digital images before I run prints, so if it's okay with you both, I'll probably head over there tonight after dinner."
Finn came around the front of the truck to open her door, but she'd already hopped out on her own. He took her hand as they walked toward the field, but the spell of their afternoon together was broken. She felt self-conscious as they approached the group of other parents who had gathered at the edge of the field. Several heads turned and noticed them, and many gazes dropped to their joined hands. Emma tried to pull her hand back, but Finn didn't let go. Instead, he tugged her closer, and then released her hand only to put his arm around her shoulders.
"Are you trying to make a point?" she hissed.
Finn shrugged.
"People in this town don't like me. They don't like us being together."
"Why should we care?" he asked, an edge to his voice.
Emma shrugged out from under his arm. "Because someone who doesn't like me keeps setting my stuff on fire," she snapped. "You can poke the bear, Finn, but I'm the one who will get mauled."
He stopped walking, his expression conflicted. Emma looked back at the cluster of waiting parents. She didn't recognize anyone but Phoebe, who stood out because of her beautiful blonde hair, and also because she stood about ten feet away from the cluster of bystanders, not interacting with them at all. Phoebe looked at Emma and Finn, and then quickly turned back to watch the players on the field. Emma wasn't sure what to make of that. Was Phoebe snubbing them (or, more likely, snubbing her), or was she just trying to give them privacy for what must look like an argument.
Finn finally spoke. "I don't want to do anything to put you in danger, but neither do I want to sneak around like we're doing something wrong, because we're not."
"I know, but you don't need to lay it on like we've got something to prove, either, because we don't."
"I've been with you all day, hugging and kissing you and holding your hand. Why am I suddenly 'laying it on'?" he countered.
"We were alone before. Now we're not. I'm not saying we have to sneak around. I'm here with you in public, see? But I didn't like public displays of affection in my own school days, and the last thing I want is to embarrass Catie by engaging in them here at her school." With that pronouncement, Emma left Finn behind and joined Phoebe at the edge of the field.
"Hi," she ventured, unsure of her reception.
"Hi," Phoebe replied. "Everything okay?"
Emma shrugged. "Before I settle in, are you standing alone because you want to be alone, or because the good people of Wellsboro are about as welcoming as a snake pit?"
Phoebe laughed. "The latter. I get why they don't like me—I ran off on Finn and Catie—but why don't they like you?"
"Because I'm the hoyden who led you astray. You haven't heard that story? Our lesbian love affair is the stuff of legend around here."
Phoebe's green eyes widened hugely. "You're kidding. Catie mentioned 'people thought' that, but I thought she meant 'Finn thought'."
Emma shook her head, then amended, "Well, yeah, he did, but so did everyone else."
"He really thought that?"
"He hated me," Emma confirmed, shivering at the visceral memory of his loathing. Since they'd just squabbled, the reminder that he could nurture a grudge for so long made her stomach clench, and she glanced around to see where he'd gone when he hadn't followed her.
He had joined the cluster of parents and was smiling as a man Emma didn't know clapped him on the back. Emma and Phoebe watched as Finn exchanged handshakes, air kisses, and fist bumps, greeting everyone. None of them, not even Finn, glanced at Emma and Phoebe.
"This fucking town," Emma muttered bitterly.
"Mmhmm" Phoebe agreed. "And he doesn't get it, because he grew up here, and he's everybody's darling."
It was Emma's turn to hum in agreement. "What about when you first moved here?" She understood that it would take people awhile to forgive them for Finn's and Catie's abandonment, but when Phoebe first arrived there wouldn't have been anything to hold against her.
Phoebe said, "I was always an outsider, but people were polite. When I was pregnant, everyone was so nice, especially Finn's mom." She sighed wistfully. "His parents were great. When I heard they'd died, I almost came back, because I knew Finn must have been devastated. But by the time I heard, they'd been gone for four months, and I figured it would be too late to help." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Besides, I am an inherently selfish person, and I suck at grief."
Emma didn't know what to say. Politeness dictated that she deny Phoebe's claim of selfishness, but the truth was that so many of the other woman's choices had been undeniably self-interested. Instead, she deflected. "I wish I'd known his parents."
"They would have liked you," Phoebe told her, her gaze focussed on Catie running up the field ahead of teammates, keeping careful control over the ball. Phoebe's green eyes flicked toward Emma and she flashed an apologetic grin. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're such a better hausfrau than I was. His parents would have loved that."
Emma's brows rose. "Wow. Is there a right way to take that?"
Phoebe smirked. "You cook. You vacuum. You do your own laundry. I've never been into that stuff."
"Nobody is 'into' doing laundry. It needs doing, so we do it."
"I don't. I pay the laundromat attendant to do it. I hire staff."
"Ooh la la," Emma said sarcastically. "Aren't you special?"
Phoebe shook her head. "Privileged, not special. When Finn and I bought the house, I tried to do all that stuff. I sucked at it. His mom despaired of me. All his whites were pink. Thanksgiving dinner was inedible. I kept flooding the kitchen because I put the wrong soap in the dishwasher. That's all I meant when I said they'd have loved you. 'Hausfrau' was the wrong word, but they would have appreciated your domestic competence. The only thing I ever did that they approved of was having Catie."
"Well, she is pretty great," Emma agreed.
"I didn't have much to do with it."
Out on the field, the coach blew a whistle and gestured her players to huddle around. She consulted with her team for a moment, and then the girls cheered. The huddle broke, girls scattering like pool balls.
Phoebe and Emma both waved to Catie, who jogged toward them. She eyed them nervously and demanded, "What are you both doing here? Where's dad?"
"Right there," Emma assured her, pointing. Finn noticed their attention with a wave and a smile, but he was mid-conversation with another dad and did not excuse himself.
Catie turned back to Phoebe and Emma. "You guys are talking?" she asked doubtfully. "To each other?"
Emma reminded her, "We were friends once, remember?"
"Well, yeah, but now..." Catie let her voice trail off as she tried to find words to explain her doubts. "Isn't it weird?"
Emma and Phoebe exchanged glances. Emma's cheeks flushed, and Phoebe bit her lower lip prettily. Phoebe was the one to answer. "It is a bit awkward, but I want you and your dad to be happy, and as Emma says, we used to be friends."
Catie considered this for a moment, and then decreed, "I don't like it."
Emma tugged Catie's braid playfully. "So does this mean we get veto power over your friendships?"
"Fair point, but I still don't like it," Catie pouted.
"Don't like what?" Finn asked, finally joining them.
"Emma and Phoebe being all chummy," Catie replied.
Finn slid his arm across Catie's shoulders and grimaced. He pitched his voice low, but not so low that the women couldn't hear. "Truthfully, kid, it kind of freaks me out, too... but I think it's good for them."
"It's good for all of us," Phoebe said. "If Emma's going to be raising my kid, we need to get along."
Emma made a choking sound and turned red. "I'm not- We're not-" she sputtered, only to break off in a fit of coughing.
Phoebe widened her eyes at Emma. She waited for the coughing spasms to subside, before she spoke. "Maybe you've got cold feet, but I'm leaving in a few weeks, and I want to know I'm not leaving a mess in my wake."
"Since when do you even care?" Catie groused.
Phoebe sighed. "I have plenty of shortcomings that make me unsuited to motherhood, I'll grant you that, but I've always cared."
She turned back to Emma and continued. "Finn and Catie have both made it abundantly clear to me that they're hoping to keep you around for the long term. Maybe you're not ready to hear it, but you're the only one expressing doubt here. I know you well enough, or at least I used to, to know you're not crazy and you're not unkind, so I'm assuming you'll get your head together and fall in line with the plan. So yes, odds are, you're going to be raising my kid."
"Phoebe," Finn said warningly, watching Emma nervously. He started to reach for her, but pulled back, no doubt recalling her earlier complain about making a public display.
Emma hugged her arms to her chest and glared at her feet, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. She wasn't ready for this—raising anyone's kid, thinking of herself as a permanent part of Finn and Catie's lives—but she hated for Catie see her fear. Poor Catie, who'd never known her mother's love, was now watching her mother pass the torch. Emma wished, for Catie's sake, that she felt more ready to take it. Catie was such an amazing kid. Loving her, raising her, was a privilege, and Emma knew it. Catie deserved enthusiasm, and Emma was failing her. In front of her entire soccer team and their parents. Christ.
Emma's eyes burned with tears. She reached out and put her palms on Catie's cheeks, leaned close, and vowed fiercely, "I am a wreck, but you are a fabulous, wonderful, lovable kid. Don't think for one minute that I'm holding back because of you, sweetheart. I am a hot mess, that's all."
Catie grabbed Emma's wrists and held her hands to her face, leaning her forehead until it touched Emma's. "Phoebe's right. Dad and I mean to keep you. Resistance is futile."
Emma let out a choked laugh.
Finn grinned and put his arms around them both, joining the group hug.
Left out, Phoebe tapped Catie's shoulder. "I'm going to go. See you tomorrow, Cate." She headed for her car.
Emma and the McCaffreys stepped apart. Emma swiped her damp cheeks and pulled the collar of her coat up, like a turtle trying to disappear into her shell.
It took her most of the drive home to regain her composure. Once home, she went to the kitchen to start dinner, while Catie went to the living room to do her homework. Finn watched as Emma pulled ingredients out of the fridge.
"You don't have to cook. I can order a pizza," he offered.
Emma knew Finn and Catie ate a lot of takeout when left to their own devices. There wasn't much she could for them to repay their kindness, but she could cook. "We went shopping yesterday. There's plenty of food; we should eat it."
Finn rubbed his stubbly chin uncertainly. "I feel bad."
She closed the refrigerator and put her arms around him. He hugged her back, dipping his head so that his forehead rested on her hair. "Don't feel bad," she said softly. "Today was wonderful. I haven't felt so excited about my photos in a long time. I'm sorry I'm so prickly. I'm... working through it."
He hugged her tighter. "I know you are. I'm sorry Phoebe put you on the spot."
Emma shook her head. "I'm only sorry she did it in front of Catie. Bad enough Phoebe's leaving. I don't want Catie to get the idea that I don't want her. I freaked out because I'm not ready to commit to anything, not because I don't want her, or I don't love you, you know?"
He stroked her spine reassuringly. "We know. It's okay. We can go slow."
Emma lifted her head and kissed him glancingly, before getting back to work. She put a pot of on rice to boil and started chopping vegetables for a stir fry. When Finn asked to help, she put him in charge of cutting up a package of chicken breasts.
As they worked on opposite sides of the kitchen island, she asked, "Can I borrow your truck after dinner? I need to go to George's and run today's prints."
"You're not too tired?"
Emma arched her brows. The truth was, she was exhausted—not because today's excursion had been all that trying, but because she was depressed, and it was hard to muster enough energy to do anything—but it didn't matter. "The Festival is in three days. If I'm going to do this, I need to work pretty much around-the-clock between now and then."
Finn frowned. "I want you to do the show, but not if it means running yourself into the ground."
"I have to do it. They put George in charge of recruiting local artists for the show, and he asked me. He doesn't have time to find anyone else, and I don't want to make him look bad after all he's done for me."
"Can I help?"
She considered. "If you wanted to take me out again tomorrow... that would help. If you have time, I mean. I don't want to keep you from your writing."
Finn waved dismissively. "I've got time. I'd like that."
*****
Emma drove across town to George's. As she climbed out of the cab of Finn's truck, her mother stepped out onto her porch and called, "What's this I hear about your car and another fire?"
Emma winced. Whatever her mother had heard, it hadn't been from Emma, and she would pay for that. "Sorry, Mom. Did George fill you in?"
Helen marched across the driveway. "I swear, you told me more about your life when you were a thousand miles away," she grumbled.
Emma sighed. "I had better news to report then."
"I don't care if the news is bad, so long as I hear from you. I know you're not here to see me, but come inside, catch me up."
"I don't have ti-" she started to protest that she was busy, but Helen's glacial glare stopped the words. "Yeah, okay."
"You're too thin," Helen noted, as they walked toward her front door. "Have you had dinner?"
"Yes, at Finn's."
"Dessert, then. I have ice cream." Helen steer her into the kitchen and gestured toward a seat at the table. "You're staying with Finn?"
Emma nodded cagily. Her mother knew this, since they'd seen her when they picked up Ludo from George on Sunday.
"What about that ex of his? Is she still in Martha's house?"
"For a few more weeks."
Helen tsked, shaking her head. "I've seen that girl. She's beautiful. What were you thinking, setting her up right next door to your man like that?"
Emma sighed. Only a mother could criticize her daughter for not being pretty enough to hold on to her man while serving said daughter a big bowl of ice cream. "If he wanted to be with her—which, it seems, he doesn't—he wouldn't be my man. Better to know, right?"
Helen made a sour face. "Your father was always cheating. I never saw the sense in making it easy for him."
"And even so..." Emma replied, not needing to finish the thought. Her parents' divorce was ancient history, but it had been ugly enough that wounds still festered. Emma had no intention of poking at the scar tissue.
"Coffee?" Helen asked, taking the hint that a subject change was in order.
"Sure."
"So? Talk to me!" her mother prompted impatiently, when they were both sitting with coffee and ice cream.
"Sounds like George already has."
"George told me what happened, where you're staying, that you lost your job. He can't tell me how you're doing, and apparently, you don't spare me a thought when I'm not right here in front of you."
"Oh, good. A guilt trip. Just what my day was missing."
Helen ignored her sarcastic drawl. "I'm your mother. I worry."
Maybe she did worry, but Emma wasn't the only one who didn't think about Helen unless they were together. Her mother hadn't stopped by to visit Emma one time since she'd come up from Georgia, not at Aunt Martha's, not at Finn's, not at the motel. She didn't call, either, though it was possible George hadn't shared Emma's new number. She must have seen Emma's car in the driveway, with all the hours she'd been spending in George's photo lab, but she never came by to say hello. Granted, Emma hadn't sought her out, either, but then, Emma wasn't laying on the guilt.
Still, there was no sense in arguing about the many shortcomings in their relationship. It was what is was, and there was plenty of fault on both sides. Emma didn't have time to wade through that mess tonight.
"What do want to know, Mom?" she asked, working to keep the impatience out of her tone.
"Why is this happening to you? Is it all tied to Gary's gambling, like the fire in Savannah?"
Emma shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe, but I didn't exactly get a warm welcome here in town, either."
Helen pursed her lips. "Lord knows this town has more than its fair share of Nosy Parkers, but I can't imagine any of them becoming so obsessed that they would attack you this way."
"Finn doesn't think it's anyone local, either. I don't know what's scarier. If it's Gary's creditors following me up here, they can follow me anywhere. But if it's not, then I have two different factions out to get me."
Helen shuddered. "I just hate that Gary did this. I never would have believed it of him."
"I know," Emma agreed simply. Her own sense of betrayal had worn away, leaving only a weary, defeated resignation in its place, but Helen's tone was still bitter. She had adored Gary: a doctor, soon-to-be surgeon, and picture-perfect son-in-law. Too good to be true, obviously.
"So you and Finn...?" Helen prompted.
"We're taking things slowly."
"You're living with him."
Emma blushed, but nodded. "I'm gun shy, Mom. I'm just trying to take each day as it comes."
"He's a good catch," Helen approved. "Handsome, and I hear he makes a good living with the crime novels of his. Not the most high brow stuff, but I guess that's where the money is."
Emma managed a tight smile. Her mother was such a snob.
"You should lock that down, especially with that pretty blonde right next door."
Emma almost choked on her coffee.
"He's got that little girl, though," Helen remembered, paying no attention. "Are you ready to be a stepmother? To a teenager, no less?"
"No, Mom, which is why we're taking it slow," Emma droned, impatiently. First Phoebe, and now her own mother. How many times today did she have to have this conversation? "But Catie's a terrific kid," she added loyally.
"Hmm," Helen murmured doubtfully, and Emma tried not to be offended that her own mother couldn't seem to imagine a teenage girl who wasn't a burden.
She answered a few more of Helen's questions about Phoebe and about the work Emma planned to show at the Harvest Festival, which George must have told her about. Helen seemed politely interested but not really invested or enthusiastic, which was pretty much the norm for their entire relationship.
Eventually, coffee consumed, Emma took her leave. She walked around the front of the house and knocked on George's door. When he opened it, he greeted her with a huge smile, a bear hug, and a noisy kiss on the cheek — all the enthusiasm she could want.