Dear Emily (30 page)

“Okay. So, what are you two up to?” Rosie grinned.

“Up to? As compared to what?” Matt asked, matching her grin.

“You know, are you off today? What’s going on at the Retreat? How are those renegade sisters doing? Ivan has told me some pretty wild stories.”

“Don’t believe half of them. Those sisters are the finest people I’ve ever met. They contribute to this hospital every year. Did you know that?”

Rosie and Emily shook their heads.

“They give to the old age home and the orphanage too. Money as well as their time. They practice what they preach. Not too many people do that,” Matt said.

“I wasn’t criticizing them,” Rosie said. “I think it’s wonderful and funny at the same time. I wish I had their philosophy and disposition. Guess what, I lost twelve pounds.”

“No!” Emily laughed.

“Yes, I did. It’s going to be that much easier to start that regimen you’re going to map out for me.”

“Only when the doctor gives the okay,” Emily said firmly.

A nurse bustled into the room. “Doctor is making rounds now. Visitors can wait in the waiting room or they can leave,” she said briskly.

“This takes forever, guys, so you might as well leave. Thanks for coming by. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Did you bring me anything to read?”

Emily nodded.
“The Woodchopper Murder
and
Venom in the Blood.
I passed on
Nights in the Bayou.
It’s about alligators chewing up the residents at a religious retreat.” Matt burst out laughing. Emily joined him. Rosie threw a box of tissues at their retreating backs.

In Matt’s car on the way to his house, Emily realized something strange was happening to her. She was feeling. The process, as she thought about it, was like pinpricks of awareness making her alive again. Really and truly alive. She risked a side glance at Matt. Great profile. Maturity. Muscular in all the right places. Her neck felt warm.

She was feeling. I’m Emily Thorn. Divorced. Widowed. CEO of a thriving company. Successful. It hit her like a bolt of lightning. Those are things I did…do, not who I am. I’m Emily Thorn. Me, Emily the person.

Something was happening to her, had been slowly happening since her arrival here in the Smoky Mountains. She was viewing things differently, feeling
everything.

“Well, here we are, my humble abode. It looks small from the outside,” he said, hopping from the jeep. He walked around to the side and opened the door for Emily.

“It used to be a summer cottage and I added on and winterized it. I was born about a mile from here. Do you like it?”

“It’s very nice,” Emily said. “I love front porches. Do you ever sit out here?” she asked as Matt guided her up to the wide plank porch.

“When I have the time. Usually late at night when I have things to think about. I tend to fall asleep in the chair and wake up with a crick in my neck. Come on, I’ll give you the two-minute tour.”

“It smells wonderful,” Emily said, wrinkling her nose in approval.

“Garlic. And onions. This is the living room,” he said airily, his arm waving about.

Emily looked around. The room was square with deep furniture covered with flowered chintz that matched the drapes. A braided rug was in the middle of the floor. It looked homemade. Everywhere she looked there were pictures of a smiling young woman. Emily felt her tongue grow thick in her mouth. Too many pictures. Too many memories. She wondered how she compared to the smiling woman with the pony tail and laughing eyes.

“This is the dining room, which is really an extension of the living room. We eat in the kitchen. The truth is I think we live in the kitchen. As you can see, it’s big. I extended it when I added the family room on to the back of the house. A bathroom too. Those kids of mine stay in there for hours. I’d never make it to work if we only had one.”

It was a wonderful kitchen, sunny and warm with green plants tucked into corners and on the windowsill. Copper that needed to be shined hung from long chains hooked into the rafters as did net bags of garlic and herbs. The cushions on the burled oak table and chairs were bright red and matched the placemats, which were old and worn.

A braided rug rested by the sink, another by the stove. Notes and memos were plastered all over the front of the refrigerator. And on all the walls were framed petit point pictures. The kitchen held two, one a bowl of striking red apples, another of lemons and limes next to a pitcher of lemonade. The ones in the living room were different, more personal. A sailboat with figures of four people. A family. Matt’s family. Another of a little boy and girl playing ball in the yard. Emily felt something catch in her throat. This family lived with their memories the way she had.

“The bedrooms are just bedrooms. Kind of messy. How do you like my deck? Ivan helped me build it.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. What a magnificent view. It takes your breath away. You must love it here very much.”

“I do. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else.”

He’s making a statement, Emily thought. Warning me ahead of time that this is where he belongs.

“Who’s Al Roker?” Matt asked quietly.

“Why do you want to know?” Emily asked, flustered with the question.

“Ivan said that when he found you, you thought he was Al Roker. I’m asking you who he is.”

Emily laughed, a nervous sound even to her own ears. “I thought there, right before Ivan found me, that I was becoming delirious. At first I thought he was a Sasquatch. Then I thought he was Al Roker. Back home I always watched the five o’clock news and weather when I could. He’s the weatherman and he’s always talking about his Doppler radar. I don’t even know what Doppler radar means. When I saw Ivan I thought it was Roker with the Doppler radar strapped to his back. I didn’t know if I was dreaming…I don’t know what I thought. I was scared out of my wits.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What does uh-huh mean, Matt? Are you trying to ask me something without actually coming out and asking me. Like, is there a man in my life or something like that?”

Matt’s head bobbed up and down. “Something like that. Is there?”

“Yes and no. I have a very good friend back home. We have an understanding of sorts. He’s free to do as he pleases and so am I. We get along well. He has no real baggage and I don’t either. He’s seen me through some rough times. He’s a very good friend. What about you?”

“No, no one. I don’t know why that is,” he said.

“I think I might be able to give you a clue,” Emily said quietly.

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah. Your living room is like a shrine to your wife. I just walked through it and I counted twenty-four pictures, nine on the mantel, two or three on every table, several on the wall, not to mention the needlework pictures. It’s the same thing here in the kitchen. I would imagine it intimidates women if you bring them here.”

“Does it intimidate you, Emily?”

“Very much so. I could never kiss you here, or if we ever decided to go to bed, it can’t be in this house.”

“The kids…”

“The kids should have the pictures in their rooms. You should have one too. There comes a time, Matt, when you have to put it all away if you want to get on with your life. If you’re happy looking at the pictures, happy with your memories, then you don’t have to do anything. This is just my opinion. Am I still invited for supper?”

“Yes. Of course. I don’t really bring women here, Emily. Perhaps one or two, but they were really just friends. They were a little jittery now that I think about it.”

“Can I set the table?”

“End of discussion, right?”

“Right.” Emily smiled.

He was clumsy, but at home in the kitchen. Emily sat in her chair and fought the urge to offer to help, knowing instinctively he wanted to perform for her.

“I’ll never be a renowned chef,” Matt said, dropping spaghetti into the boiling water.

“Guess what, I’m never going to be a trail blazer either. We each have to accept little things like that in life.”

“You’re funny. I like that. Not too many people have a sense of humor.”

“I used to be as dry as year-old mud. I’ve been involved in a steady learning process for the past few years. Life’s just too damn short to dwell on the past, even yesterday for that matter. It’s gone. What’s that saying, the past is prologue, something like that? What do you want to be when you grow up, Matt?” she teased.

“A caring human being. Bet you thought I was going to say a fireman. How about you?”

“I met my goals. I guess I want to do something…meaningful. Hopefully, all the bad times are behind me. This portion of my life is important to me. Whatever I do has to do with who I am now. One of the sisters put the idea into my head, but I happen to think she’s right when she said God had a design for me. He got me this far and now I have to figure out what He wants me to do. One of these days I’m going to figure it out.”

“How long are you staying at the retreat?”

“I’m not sure. It’s kind of open for me. Certainly as long as Rosie stays. The sisters said I could stay as long as I want. Hey, I may never leave.”

“Gets pretty cold here in the winter.”

“It’s cold in New Jersey too,” Emily said, her voice neutral-sounding. “The reason your sauce is so watery is because you aren’t letting the spaghetti drain and I never rinse mine.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. And the vinegar in the salad contributes to the wateriness of the sauce. I thought chefs, even good cooks, liked criticism.”

“Not this cook. Eat.”

“Tell me about your kids, Matt.”

“Benjy’s twelve. He’s a good kid. Into sports. He does well in school if I keep after him. He loves the outdoors as much as I do. He looks just like his mother. He has her temper too, I’m sorry to say. Molly is like me. She’s easygoing, pretty. She doesn’t think she’s pretty, though. She’s fourteen and she has definitely discovered boys. I think the phone is growing out of her ear. She accepted her mother’s death very well. Benjy had a lot of problems we had to work through.

“They both worry about me. Back then…they were afraid every time I left the house that I wouldn’t come back. They’re very close. I’ve never had to really deal with the problem of another woman. I don’t really know what their reaction will be. I guess that sounds like I’m giving you a warning.”

Emily nodded. “Forewarned is forearmed, that kind of thing? This is…not exactly hypothetical, but what if we do…start to see each other and the children don’t like or approve of me? What happens then?”

“I don’t know, Emily.”

“I don’t know then if I can let myself be open to something like that. I like you, I feel attracted to you. I liked it when you kissed me. But I don’t need any more heartache in my life, Matt. It’s taken me a long time to get where I am.” Her pulse was beating so fast she was sure he could see it bouncing up and down. “Why don’t we go back to being friends. Let’s not plan anything and that way…”

Matt leaned across the table. “Listen to me, Emily. I take my relationships seriously. My body is telling me I want to go to bed with you and I think your body is telling you the same thing. Now, that’s the physical side of things. We can deal with that when the time comes. I like you. I find myself trying to find ways to be in your company. I was worried sick when Ivan brought you down from the mountain. I wanted to take care of you, to make you better, to dress your wounds. I never felt like that about anyone except my wife. I wanted to tell you, but it seemed kind of…wimpish. My kids are a separate issue. I’ll deal with them as a father. What we’re talking about here is you and me. I really tuned into you that first night when I came by your cabin and woke you up. You sneaked into my heart, Emily.”

Emily’s eyes misted. “I think you sneaked into mine too. There’s every possibility your kids
might
like me.”

“Molly will. Benjy won’t. I’ll deal with it, Emily.”

“I don’t know the first thing about kids. I’ll probably make things worse. I’ll say something when I shouldn’t. I’ll bend over backwards when I should be stern.”

“I cooked so you can clean up,” Matt said airily.

Emily got up from the chair, her thoughts in a turmoil. She could feel prickles of electricity run up and down her arms as she carried her plate to the sink.

His embrace, when it came, was neither expected nor unexpected. It was natural, just the way it was in the elevator. She felt herself melting into his arms as though she’d been doing it for years and years. He felt good. He felt so right, she was dizzy with the thought. She felt his lips, his fingertips, his hard body. She couldn’t help it, she wanted this man. But not here, not now. She said so.

Matt backed away, swatted her rump, and handed her the dishtowel at the same time. “Just put them in to soak. I’ll do them later.”

“That’s good because I had no intention of doing them. I’m a guest.” The charge of electricity ricocheting between them was so strong, Emily moved to the other side of the kitchen.

“I think you should take me home,” she said quietly.

Matt nodded. “I think so too.”

“Supper wasn’t bad, thanks for inviting me.”

“My pleasure,” Matt said formally.

“Why don’t we have dessert at my cabin?”

“Let’s go, lady.”

They ran like two kids to the jeep. They were driving away, the wind blowing in their faces, when Emily said, “You didn’t lock your door.”

“I never lock my door.”

“We know why we’re going to my place, right?”

“Right. No game playing. We’re going to have sex. Good, old-fashioned sex. Jesus, I feel like a kid. It’s been a while, Emily. I might be a little rusty.” She laughed and laughed until he joined her, throwing back his head in delight.

They tripped over each other as they ran up the four steps to Emily’s porch. Both of them tried to squeeze through the door opening at the same time. Thinner than Matt, Emily bounded through, turning on the lights as she went along. “Forget the damn lights and come here,” Matt ordered.

Their eyes met in the dimness of the bedroom, and without a trace of modesty or embarrassment, she was aware she could drown in Matt’s incredibly dark gaze and emerge again as the woman she needed to become.