Shake The Frost (Crystal Lake #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,56
age, she was sheltered from the truth of things. But she’d never forgotten how it all happened in slow motion, that dark and twisted event that unfolded beneath a bright sun and a cloudless sky.
She felt that way today, standing at her kitchen counter, watching Samantha give her daughter a snack and asking her to go play with Bilbo. A daughter with dark hair and hazel eyes she’d know anywhere.
All her ghosts had come home, it seemed, and she trembled from the weight of them.
“She should be quiet for a while,” Samantha said, sliding onto a stool across from Emily.
“And we can talk.”
Emily could tell Samantha was nervous. Her voice trembled, and her fingers nervously played with the edge of her sweater.
“Where have you been?” Emily asked, pushing aside all that sawdust.
“California.” Samantha hunched forward, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “I’m not used to winter anymore.”
Emily found her gaze drawn back to the little girl, who was trying her best to cuddle Bilbo, while the dog was doing his best to clean her entire face.
“How old is your daughter?” Her eyes darted to Samantha.
“Chloe is four.”
“And when was her birthday?” Emily couldn’t help the sharpness that crept into her voice.
“August.”
Emily set down her phone and tried to gather her thoughts. “Is she…”
“Yes.”
Emily’s eyes widened, and for a moment, there was no sound in the house. It was dead, like all the air had been sucked out. She turned around, grabbed a water glass from the cupboard, and filled it to the top. Then she took a big gulp but couldn’t get it down and spit it in the kitchen sink. All the hurt and rage she’d kept inside for so long washed over her. She bent over the sink, gripping the edge of it until her knuckles turned white.
“Emily,” Samantha said softly.
“Give me a minute,” she bit out.
She took more than a minute. In fact, she took nearly five, and when a small hand tugged on her leg, she practically jumped out of her skin. The little girl looked up at Emily and smiled.
“You’re pretty,” she said, her voice singsong and sweet.
“Thank you,” Emily managed to say. “So are you.” And she was. Little Chloe was beautiful.
“You look like my Barbie.” She pointed to the counter. “Can I have that?”
Emily handed the little girl her glass and waited until she finished nearly all of it. She turned around to watch her skip back to the living room and sit down by the table that held all her photos. Photos of Emily and Rick.
Her gaze found its way back to Samantha. The other woman had no time to hide her own pain. In that moment, all the anger Emily felt washed away. It slid from her body like skin being shed, and she stepped back to lean against the counter. Her legs felt numb.
This woman had been her best friend for years. The girl she’d shared all her secrets with. The woman she’d complained to and commiserated with. Until she wasn’t. Until she disappeared days after Rick’s accident without so much as a goodbye. All she’d gotten from Samantha was a message on her answering machine telling her she’d decided to go back to school and she’d be in touch.
That never happened, and now Emily knew why.
“Why are you here?” Emily asked.
“My dad’s sick. His liver.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“He should be fine.” Samantha toyed with her purse. “But he needs help, and Mom is still working. You know her. She can’t be still for long.”
“I saw your mom at Rick’s funeral,” Emily said, watching Samantha closely. “She never said anything about your father.” She straightened and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “She never said anything about you. Does she know?” She nodded toward the living room.
Samantha answered slowly. “Yes.”
That hurt. There was a time when Emily had been closer to Samantha’s mother than her own. “So everyone knew except me. And Rick? He knew too?” Some of that anger came back and heated her words with a sharp edge.
Samantha glanced away.
“I was such an idiot,” Emily said, swiping at the hot tears that sprang to the corners of her eyes.
“Emily,” Samantha entreated. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she snapped. “No one ever does.”
“Em, just take a moment, and we can—”
“No, you don’t get to talk right now,” she said, walking to the island so she was inches from Samantha. “It’s my turn. You came here for what, forgiveness? Or were you just being nice