Earth to Emily (18 page)

Mother clapped her hands together. “There she is.”

Jack’s improbably topaz eyes met mine. “Merry Christmas Eve to you.” His left-sided smile warmed me inside.

I crossed the room to join them. Mother went all out for Christmas, and the living room was overflowing with jolliness. Hand-knitted Christmas stockings hung from the mantel over the fireplace. Mother had made them herself. There were three, of course: mine, hers, and my father’s, despite the fact that the last Christmas he’d spent with us was fifteen years before. Her snow globes decorated the coffee table. A nativity scene of embroidered figurines graced an end table. The tree commanded wholly a third of the room from its spot in front of the window, and wrapped gifts spilled over the dark green velvet tree skirt below it. Homemade ornaments—mostly Mother’s crafts, but some I recognized from my school days—covered the tree branches. A construction-paper chain in faded red and green. A picture of me glued in a plastic coffee can lid. A Popsicle-stick reindeer with a cotton-ball tail and red puffy nose. I loved it all.

When I reached them, Jack put his hand under my elbow, and butterflies exploded in flight in my tummy.

Fighting to cover my nerves, I asked, “Have you heard anything from Clyde?”

“They kept the old codger overnight, but he’s home now, and driving Betty up a tree.”

“That’s great.”

“Unless you’re Betty. Are you ready?”

“Well, nearly.” The butterflies crash-landed. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

My mother raised her eyebrows, pulling her thin skin thinner below them.

I put my hand up toward her and shot her a warning glance. To Jack I said, “A friend of mine from the Virgin Islands needed a place to stay tonight, and she wants to join us. Is that okay?”

Jack took one sip of tea, then another. The logs crackled and popped in the fireplace. I looked at Mother and she at me. My chest grew tight and then tighter as Jack remained silent without answering my question.

And then Ava appeared in the doorway. Or shot in like a Roman candle, rather. She had thrown a red shawl over her dress, and I couldn’t help but wither as I compared my black skirt and red sweater to her black and red ensemble.

She tossed her thick mane of sun-bronzed black hair behind her shoulder and said as only she could, “Emily, introduce me to this fine boss of yours.”

If Ava had an effect on Jack, he hid it well. He raised one brow at me, though.

The frog in my throat made my voice thin. “Jack, this is my friend, Ava Butler, from St. Marcos. Ava, this is Jack Holden.”

Ava walked to him and held out one hand.

He took it and bowed his head to her. “Ms. Butler, a pleasure.”

Her accent was a musical purr. “Call me Ava. And the pleasure be all mine, meh son.” She held on to his hand a little longer than I thought was really necessary, her glistening eyes locked onto his. “Thank you for letting me crash your party with Emily. Christmas a lonely time for me this year, far from my daughter and the island I call home.”

“Okay,” I said. My voice, meant to break her spell, came out almost a shriek. But it worked. Ava dropped Jack’s hand. “I think we’re ready. Mother, please drive carefully.”

“You know I will.”

Ava hugged my mother. “Thanks for having me. I know Emily come from good people, first time I meet her.”

Mother was always a sucker for flattery. She hugged Ava back. “Of course. Stay as long as you’d like.” She turned to Jack. “Is the weather going to be good enough for you and Emily to fly out tomorrow?”

I wanted to jump up and down and wave my arms “no,” but Ava’s phone made a noise, and she pulled it from her handbag to check it.

Jack said, “We’ll have to see.”

“See what?” Ava asked.

I grabbed Ava’s arm. “You’re going to fall on your bana in those shoes. Let me help you out to Jack’s car.”

***

As the service drew to a close, the organist and choir burst into the recessional, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” I stood up between Jack and Ava and continued singing as the front pews filed out. We had sat near the back, so we had a long time before we would be exiting.

I flipped the program to the back cover. Jack had surprised me again. I had assumed we were going to a Catholic mass, and it turned out he was a member of Downtown Methodist, a church up the street from our offices. I kept singing as I read over it: Announcements. Singles. Ladies Bible Study. Youth Group. Choir practice. A potluck—THE CHURCH WILL HOST AN EVENING OF FINE DINING, SUPER ENTERTAINMENT, AND GRACIOUS HOSTILITY. I smiled. Another gem for my collection.

Our row emptied into the center aisle and we began a slow walk toward the sanctuary exit. Jack led and Ava and I followed, side by side. Inside the nave, the carol sounded exultant, glorious. As we neared the propped-open doors, the sound changed to a happy jangle of music mixed with chattering voices. By the time we exited, the chatter was dominant and the music the background.

Without the aid of the choir, people in the foyer sang out of rhythm and off-key all around me—except for Ava, who sang at full voice and perfectly, which drew as many eyes as did her va-va and her voom. On my left, two openly gay men held hands as they talked to a heterosexual couple with twin boys. Three blue-haired women leaned against each other for support and spoke in slow, tremulous voices to my right. Someone grabbed my arm from behind, stopping me short.

I called out, “Jack,” but my voice didn’t begin to cut through the din.

Jack kept going, Ava behind him. I turned to my accoster. Officer Samson’s towering frame loomed behind me, recognizable even when he wore a sport coat, sweater, and button down over navy pants, instead of a police officer’s uniform. He continued pulling me from the crowd, and I considered resisting, but decided that probably wasn’t something one did with cops, even when the object of one’s affection was walking off with the sexiest woman within a five-hundred-mile radius. I acquiesced, letting Samson lead me to the side of the room, out of the flow of human traffic.

He put his head close to mine without letting go of my arm and shouted, “I heard you reported a murder today.”

I scowled, processing his words. Officer Jones told me he thought it was a slip and fall. I had wanted to believe it, but I remembered the eerie feeling I’d had in her backyard, like someone was watching me. I’d shaken it off, but I’d wondered about foul play, especially since she’d been scared to leave her home.

“Murder?”

“Yes, and I’m starting to worry about you.”

My fist clenched. Was he trying to intimidate me like that jerk Burrows? “Oh really?”

He released my arm. “You keep showing up where people are dying. That’s high risk. You should take up a nonhazardous hobby and spend some time away from crime scenes.”

His voice hadn’t sounded hostile. In fact, he sounded grandfatherly, even warm. I relaxed. “I’ll think about it. What are you doing here?”

“Christmas Eve service with my family.”

“Huh.” I looked around for a wife giving him the stink eye for talking to me, but I didn’t see any likely candidates.

“Anyway, since we’re here, about the other day, and your phone.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

His sudden change in subject stalled my brain like the swamped engine of my dad’s truck once when he drove through a high-water crossing in Palo Duro Canyon. “Huh?”

He shook his head quickly, in small motions. “There’s a lot I can’t say. I’m a member of the APD. You’ve filed a complaint. But I regret that it happened.”

I stared at him a moment then shook my head.

“What?”

“You’re absolutely sure it was murder today?”

“So they say. I haven’t seen the final report.”

People streamed past us toward the exits. Cold air blew in from the street, and the arctic gusts blew snow all the way to where we stood. I wrapped my arms around myself. Jack and Ava were probably going steady by now. I couldn’t stand here freezing my tail off letting that happen.

As I was about to make my getaway, Samson broke his silence. “How’d you know her? I don’t picture you as running in the same circles.”

I stuck with the story I’d given Officer Jones earlier. “Friend of a friend.”

“And you were there because why?”

“That’s all going to be in Officer Jones’s report, I’m sure. Listen, my friends have—”

“It said she needed a criminal attorney.”

“Yep.”

“She dated a cop, you know.”

The people around me blurred and their voices squelched like feedback. The crowd seemed to collapse in. All the warm bodies in the overheated space made it humid, close, and claustrophobic. I wanted to rip off my jacket and run but meanwhile my brain slowed to the speed of a slug.

“No, I didn’t. Which one?”

Before he could answer, I heard Jack’s voice in my ear. “Emily, there you are.”

Samson released me, saluting as he disappeared with a few sidesteps into the crowd.

I whirled, catching Jack by both arms. “I was just on my way.”

He peered more closely at me, then at Samson’s retreating figure, but I ignored the question on his face. I’d tell him about Samson. About my whole day, my whole last few days.

Later.

***

Jack parked his Jeep at an angle at Mother’s house, with his headlights illuminating the icy walkway. Ava got out of the backseat on his side and lurched, nearly falling. No shocker. She’d been having trouble on the ice in her heels all night. Jack put his hand under her elbow and guided her around the front of the Jeep, where I joined them and took his other arm. I glanced at the pristine new bumper and silver bodywork—yet another shade in the rainbow of colors on the Jeep. He still refused to take my money for the repairs. Slowly, we walked toward the house on the ice-rink walkway and stepped carefully onto the slippery porch.

I said to Jack, “Would you like to come in? Maybe we could talk about whatever it is you wanted to talk about?” I hoped to give him his present tonight, too.

His eyes darted to Ava, then back to me.

Ava eyed him like a Grade A steak. “Yah, Jack, come in. It so cold out here, and there two women inside to warm you up.”

Jack’s eyes looked as terrified as a calf in the chute before a roping competition. I didn’t blame him a bit. Possibly I should have warned him about Ava. Possibly I should have warned Ava I had dibs on Jack. If I had, then maybe I wouldn’t be imagining strangling her sparkly throat right now.

He said, “Uh, well, we can talk in New Mexico.”

I was disappointed, but I smiled at him.

Ava smiled, too. “New Mexico! When? That where I gig next.”

“Tomorrow,” Jack replied.

“You two driving?”

“Flying in my plane.”

“Sweet! Carry me with you?”

“Uh . . . I guess we could . . .”

“Perfect. I take a bus to Albuquerque from there.”

Jack looked at me. “Okay, then?”

Not okay. But what could I say, really? She was my friend, she was stranded, and if Jack didn’t object, then how could I?

“Okay, then,” I said, and hard as I’d tried to sound enthusiastic, my voice rang a false note to my ear, but neither Jack nor Ava reacted.

“I’ll get a report on conditions and text you when I know more in the morning,” Jack said to me.

“Sounds good.”

I stood my ground in the cold, trying to wait Ava out. I opened the door. “Better get in before you freeze to death, Ava.”

She put her arms around Jack and tilted her head back. “I falling in love with Texas, Jack.” She kissed him, on the mouth. “See you tomorrow.” She walked in the door, then cocked her hip and put a hand on it. “You coming, Emily?”

“I-I-I . . .” I licked my lips, my eyes darting between Ava and Jack. I wanted to give him a chance to kiss me. This was supposed to have been a date. But there was no way the ultra-private Jack would put his lips anywhere near mine with Ava staring at us, if he’d even been considering it at all.

“Ava, give us a moment?” Jack smiled at her and gestured toward the inside of the house.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Ohhhh yah.” Ava disappeared from the open doorway, but not before shooting me a lascivious grin.

When she was gone, Jack closed the distance between us. “I thought we’d never get rid of her.”

“Me either.” My heart pounded harder, and I was afraid he could feel it through his chest.

He took off one glove then slid his hand under my hair at the base of my neck. I closed my eyes and his warm lips covered mine. They were soft and full, and they clung to mine like I realized I was now clinging to him with both my hands. He nudged my lips apart and took my top lip into his, sucking gently. I groaned, and I reached up to grasp the back of his head. Within seconds, we’d drifted away from the porch light and Jack’s hands had worked their way inside my wrap, my top, and the silky bra I was suddenly oh-so-glad I’d worn. The man had lightning hands, but mine found his butt just as fast and I squeezed and pulled him close. As cold as it was outside, suddenly, I had an urge to rip a few layers off. Jack turned my back to the wall of the house and leaned into me, harder and harder. His lips broke from mine and he kissed his way down my neck, his lips rough against my cold skin.

“Ooooh,” I gasped.

He didn’t answer, which was good, because I didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. I grasped his hair with both hands and laid my head against the wall.

“Emily, I making hot tea. You want some?” Ava said, her voice shattering the silence only inches from my eardrum.

I yelped, and Jack’s face shot back from my chest.

Ava grinned. “Oh, sorry.” She turned away. “Um, um, um,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

“Awkward,” I said to Jack. But she’d probably arrived in the nick of time to save us from a citizen’s arrest for public indecency from the nosy neighbor lady across the street who used to bang on the window when I made out with my high school boyfriend in his car. That wouldn’t have looked good after my bogus bust by Burrows and Samson last week.

Jack didn’t answer. He pushed me back against the wall, and his mouth claimed mine.

To hell with the neighbor lady,
I thought, and ripped his shirt hem out of his jeans.