The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,14

up to my tongue and stopped me from finishing. Emmadean lifted her eyebrows and waited. She’d casually asked me if I knew Valerie Plame once, a few years after I left the military. I changed the subject. “Charlie and Logan seem close.”

“Oh, they are. Charlie is a great dad and husband. Charlie and Sophie are a well-oiled machine. Never seen a couple so supportive of each other.”

Jealousy knotted in my stomach and started festering there.

“They’re Lynchfield’s golden couple. We’re competitive with Fredericksburg and Wimberly for weekend tourism thanks to Sophie, and the Republicans have long-term aspirations for Charlie. Maybe the Governor’s Mansion, one day.”

“No kidding?”

Emmadean nodded. “I’m not sure that’s common knowledge.”

“How did you find out?”

“Sophie. We meet regularly for lunch.”

“Why?”

Emmadean stared at me. “Some people enjoy my company.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, ashamed. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I used to sit with Logan for her when Brenda couldn’t, and we’ve become friends, after a fashion. At first, I think she just wanted to hear about you, what you were doing. I gave her your address once. Did she ever write?”

“No.”

Emmadean nodded her head slowly as if mulling over the information. Finally, she said, “I suppose I’m not surprised. She stopped asking about you after a while, and I stopped sharing. She and Charlie both needed to move on. Like you did.”

“I’m glad they’ve been happy.”

“It hasn’t been easy.”

Dormer came into the kitchen. “Chickens are fed and cooped up,” Dormer said. “The pasture needs shredding. I’ll come over and do it this weekend.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. “I want to see if shredding a pasture is as hot and miserable as I remember.”

Dormer chuckled. “Oh, it is. Have at it. Call me if you can’t get the John Deere running.”

Emmadean heaved herself up from the chair and motioned for me to hug her. “Come ’ere.” She might be old, but Emmadean still gave the best hugs. I settled into her embrace, wanting to never leave. She must have sensed my need because she held me silently for a long time. “Would you do me a favor?” she whispered in my ear.

I pulled back to see her face. “If I can.”

“You can. I want you to make peace with Sophie and Charlie.”

“Emmadean—”

“They’re good people, and deserve to be happy. They won’t ever be until you three clear the air for good.”

“Why would you think I have the power to make them happy if they haven’t been able to do it themselves?”

“Because neither one of them has gotten over loving, and losing, you.”

Emmadean’s makeup was running in the heat, and she looked tired. If she hadn’t seemed so wiped out, I would have argued. As it was, I didn’t have the heart. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” She patted my cheek. “It’ll do you a world of good, too.” Dormer took her arm and escorted her to the front door.

“I’m happy,” I called.

“Talk to you tomorrow,” Emmadean said.

The front door closed, and I was left alone in my father’s empty house.

five

nora

I woke at 7:00 a.m. with a raging headache. Bars of sunlight streamed through the gaps in the Venetian blinds, throwing stripes of golden light onto the Martha Washington bedspread that had covered my double bed for thirty years. It was the only thing from my childhood room which had survived, it turned out. Every personal item I’d left—the Steffi Graff and Pearl Jam posters, all my photos, the yearbooks, the cheap jewelry—all gone. The few clothes I’d brought for the funeral hung from the center of the long, empty dowel rod beneath a shelf that held back copies dating to 1996 of the magazines on the coffee table in the den. The closet floor was barren save for a small box of toys and a Pack ’n Play which Mary’s kids had grown out of. I wondered if Ray had burned all of my things, or if I’d find them in the attic when I started to go through his stuff.

I threw my arm across my eyes. Any small notion I’d nurtured that Ray’s making me executor, and leaving everything to me, would be an olive branch from the grave was snuffed out the night before when, while drinking my fourth Shiner, I’d opened every closet and cabinet in the house to discover they were crammed full of junk, some of which I remembered seeing in the same spot years ago. I’d stared at the door of his bedroom for the span of Shiners number five and six, before stumbling to the single bathroom, brushing my