Internal Fixation - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,82
used. “An emotional crisis. She also might have insinuated that I had too much of my mother and my grandparents in me to act like my father. That’s what really stung.” I stopped for a few seconds, choking back tears. “So no, Emma. I’m not going away. I understand that as things stand now, it might actually be more convenient for you if I did leave town again, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Professionally speaking, of course.”
“Oh, you big doofus.” She swatted my shoulder. “Of course, I don’t want you to go away. And not just because it would make my work life harder, either. We’re friends, Deacon. Or at least, I feel like we are. Not to mention that I wouldn’t want to see Anna and Jimmy go through missing you again.”
“Yeah, well . . . like I said, I have no plans to travel. Even if I was tempted, I’m not going to give the board any reason to be pissed off at me again. Plus, you and I still have to build Angela’s music room, right? That project is supposed to start in a couple of months.”
“True.” She smiled, and I shot her an answering wink. It felt so right, the two of us sitting here talking, that same old easiness between us. If I was tempted to reach up and pull her face down to mine, to lose some of this grief in the comfort of her arms . . . well, that was my issue. And I was smart enough to control myself.
“Okay.” Emma rose to her feet. “I guess I better get back to work.”
“I’ll be out in a little bit, too.” I hoped I would, anyway. I needed to pull myself together.
“No, you stay in here and get some sleep.” Emma leaned over to the basket that sat between the two chairs, pulling out a light blanket that Gram had knit for me when I was in college. I kept it in here for the nights when I had to stay close for a patient. “You look exhausted, and nothing much is going on today. It’s all business as usual—and I can handle that.” She lay the blanket over me, tucking it in around my feet. “I’ll turn out the light and close the door, and no one will disturb you.”
The tantalizing scent that was so uniquely Emma—her shampoo, maybe, and the faint aroma of flowers—drifted over me. As she straightened, I caught her hand in mine.
“Emma—thank you. For coming in here and talking to me, I mean. I really am grateful to have you in my life, even if it’s not necessarily the way I’d like it to be.” And then, because I knew that later I could blame this on sadness and lack of sleep, I laced her fingers through mine and raised her hand to my lips.
For a long moment, she stood still. Her expression was filled with emotions I couldn’t quite read, but she didn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead, she reached down with her free fingers and brushed the hair off my forehead.
“Close your eyes, Deacon. Get some rest.”
I did as she said, and if I felt a pang of regret when she disentangled our hands and moved away, it was quickly swallowed up in the oblivion of sleep.
Miss Sissie’s funeral was huge. I was pretty sure the entire town turned out to memorialize a woman who had been a surrogate mother, grandmother, or aunt to many of us, a faithful friend to others. Since she didn’t have any close family in town—though her cousins came in from Alabama, including one who mentioned sheepishly that he was the one who’d been playing the ongoing game of online gin rummy with her for years—Gram, Pop and I were the de facto hosts at church and at the repast afterward, which was held at Miss Sissie’s house, as she had requested.
I had glimpsed Emma sitting with Noah, Jenny and Nico a few rows back from us at the church, but they hadn’t come through the receiving line, and I didn’t have a chance to speak to any of them. At the cemetery, though, as everyone began drifting back to their cars to drive into town, I felt a touch on my sleeve.
“Deacon.”
She looked beautiful even in black. Her dress was simple, a sleeveless deal that reached to her knees, but she wore it well. I did my best not to stare at her, since Noah was standing