Cattail Ridge (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

E
mma was sitting in the shifter stall crying when Sarah found her. Without hesitation, she went into her mother’s arms and wept harder.

A long time later, exhausted, the tears were gone. She rested her head in Sarah’s lap, her legs curled up to her chest. Her breath was still coming in hiccups and she was reminded of Sydney’s tears from earlier in the week.

Finally she spoke. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Emma did. “He’s right. If I can’t trust him, I don’t need to prolong this–this torture. That will hurt everyone more.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t make your mind up for you. You know that.”

“I do. But can you at least tell me what you would do? I feel like I’m being torn apart.”

Sarah sighed and stroked her hair. “Do you love him, Emma?”

That was one thing she was certain of. “Yes.”

“Remember when you and Zanny decided to recreate the waterslide from the park? Except you used the toboggan, and the branch that feeds the pool?”

Emma gave a snorting laugh. “Yes, I remember that. That isn’t something I’m likely to forget.”

“What about the first time you rode your bike without training wheels? Your father ran alongside you and when he let go, you didn’t even realize it. And we didn’t realize that you had never figured out how to use the brakes, and you stopped by landing in that big butterfly bush at the top of the driveway.”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember how scared you were before you started down the branch that first time? How worried you were about not having training wheels on your bike?”

Emma thought about it. She did remember those emotions, the excitement mixed in with a healthy dose of uncertainty. And she remembered how the excitement had finally won out and she’d taken the plunge—quite literally in the case of the waterslide.

“Okay. I’m with you so far.”

“Isn’t that kind of how you feel right now? With Archer?” Sarah’s voice was soft but that didn’t lessen the impact of the words.

“But Mom, it isn’t just me that would be hurt if it didn’t work out.”

Sarah shook her gently. “I am well aware of that, Emma Jean. Do you really think it’s going to hurt Sydney less to lose him now than it would down the road?”

Emma sat up slowly and accepted the box of tissues her mother had brought to the barn with her. She thought about how much comfort Sydney took from Archer’s presence, and how much better she had done with him present during her healing.

“I guess not.”

“I was fortunate enough to meet your father before I had children. I didn’t have to make the decision you’re facing, but Owen did hurt me before we got married. He hurt me quite deeply. You know a little about that.”

Emma nodded. “I do.”

“I had to choose to let go of that hurt. I wanted to be with him more than I wanted to hold on to my anger and indignation. Doing that wasn’t easy and I don’t mean to make it sound like it was. And that old insecurity popped up a few times over the years. Still does, though it’s rare. But Emma, the reward of being truly loved by a man like your father… I don’t have the words to describe what that’s like.”

“You think Archer’s like Daddy?”

“I think so, yes. And if you want him? For God’s sake, take that risk. I can’t guarantee you anything. I’ve tried to never make promises to you kids that I knew I couldn’t keep. But Emma, he’s a good bet.”

Emma leaned forward, folding her arms over her knees and resting her head on them. “And if I do decide I want him? How do I prove that I trust him so that he believes it?”

Sarah laughed softly. “That is going to be a bit of a challenge, I’m afraid. But I believe you’re up to it.”

“Short of giving him Sydney, I don’t know what it would take to convince him I’m serious. Not after the way I treated him.”

Her mother kissed her head and stood. “Well, then. If that’s what it takes…”

Emma lifted her gaze to Sarah, incredulous. “You’re serious? I should give him Sydney? How in the world would I even do that?”

“If you’re committed to spending the rest of your life with him? Why not? And as to the how, you never listed a father on her birth certificate.” Sarah held up a hand when Emma started to protest. “I understood that. So did your father. It was the smartest thing to do given the circumstances. But now? Maybe that’s something you can use. I don’t know what’s involved but it’s something to consider.”

Long after Sarah went back to the house, Emma stayed in the barn thinking about her mother’s words. About Archer’s. When she finally came out as dusk was falling and made her way inside, she still didn’t know what she had to do.

Chapter Thirty-Six

A
melia was up before the sun the next morning, more tired than when she’d gone to bed. Though she had tried to downplay her reaction yesterday, that someone had been able to get so close to her house as to come on the porch and also to disconnect the power from the pole right outside her bedroom window, disturbed her on a primitive level. Subsequently, every sound and creak last night had her jerking awake, heart pounding as she listened for anything that would tell her the vandal had returned.

Her concern for Archer and Emma hadn’t helped, either. All in all, she’d barely slept.

By eight o’clock she was ready to leave for the day. She had to be at the studio by nine thirty as she was still filling in for Zanny, and she hoped to make a couple of stops on her way to town. But before she left, she had to make a phone call.

Biting her lip, she wavered as her hand hovered over the receiver. “You are the biggest chicken in the world, Amelia Rose. All that talk to Emma and Archer about going for it? You can’t even pick the phone up and call the man.”

She wanted to check on Archer but as he’d already be at work, she’d end up talking to Logan. Just the thought of that gave her butterflies.

As angry as she was about the pranks, she was almost glad they’d happened as her fury had given her something to focus on other than Logan. When she’d walked outside and heard his voice for the first time, a zing of energy had sparked through her body. When he’d turned around and she’d seen him? Oh, dear God. Every cell lit up. She was surprised she didn’t go up in flames.

Her reaction to Archer’s brother was the last thing she’d been expecting. She had never reacted to anyone the way she had with him and it had flustered her. Without the vandalism to give her a target she firmly believed she would have melted into a sappy, senseless puddle at his feet.

Calling herself a ridiculous fool, she picked the receiver up and dialed Archer’s number. Logan answered on the second ring, his voice causing chill bumps to break out over her entire body.

“Hey, it’s Amelia. I wanted to check on Archer. Is he okay?”

“He’s still asleep on the couch. And no, I’d say he is not okay.”

Amelia frowned. “He isn’t going in to work today?”

“Not with the hangover he has. He’s probably still half-lit.”

“He–Archer got drunk?” The thought was beyond her capabilities. “He never has more than a beer or two.”

“Well, he had more than that last night.” The accusation was plain to hear in his voice, his unspoken “thanks to your sister” left hanging between them.

“And he’s still out?”

Logan grunted and she could imagine the frown on his face. It was an expression he seemed to be good at. “He’s starting to stir a little.”

“Did you call the garage, let them know he was sick?”

“Of course I did.” His tone told her he was affronted by the question. She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t let him take anything for the hangover. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

“You don’t need to come down here,” he scolded.

“Just tell him.” Amelia hung up before he could protest again. “And there’s the downside.” As yummy as Logan was and as visceral as her reaction to him had been, he was also the most somber, bad-tempered person she had the privilege to meet in a while. He reminded her of a cat with a sore paw, hissing and growling at anyone who got near it. Though he’d only really growled at her yesterday. Everyone else he’d gotten along with well.

Sarah had even remarked that he might be a good fit for Rachel. It had taken every bit of Amelia’s restraint to not yell in protest that he wasn’t for Rachel.

She picked the phone back up and called the drugstore, asking for Gilly. When her aunt came on the line, Amelia asked her to make up one of her hangover cures.

“Emma or Archer?” Gilly asked.

“Archer. If I can get past Logan to give it to him.”

Gilly laughed. “I did notice that you and he seemed to bump heads a bit yesterday. I’ll get it ready. See you in a few.”

Amelia topped off her travel mug with fresh coffee and grabbed her bag. As she drove to town she focused on Archer’s needs, and not her desire to wring his brother’s neck.

“After the last few months, that’s all we’d need.”

The ringing of the phone pierced his skull like a dozen jagged knives. Archer groaned and pulled his pillow over his head.

“Make it stop,” he pleaded. “God, make it stop.”

The pillow muffled Logan’s voice as he spoke to whoever had called, and Archer used the time to try to pull himself together. A few seconds after Logan stopped talking he tugged on Archer’s blanket-covered toes.

“You alive under there?”

“No. Go away.”

“I can’t do that. Company’s coming.”

“What? Who?” Archer shoved the pillow to the floor, wincing against the brightness of the sunlight that streamed through the windows and screen door.

“The annoying one. Pip.”

Archer scrubbed his hands over his face. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight. I called your job and talked to Jack. You’re taking a sick day.”

With a low groan of agony, Archer forced himself to sit up. His head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and angry little men were inside, pounding away with hammers. “Why the hell did you let me drink so much?”

Logan shrugged. “Little brother, I couldn’t stop you. Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t know. I remember going into the bar, getting a booth. Everything else is a blur, though.”

“Well, you were hell-bent determined to get drunk off your ass last night. And since I’m not quite up to fighting weight yet, and you’re a grown man, I let you. I just stuck by and made sure you didn’t get in trouble.”

“Thanks for that.” Archer didn’t realize he was naked until he stood up. He fumbled to catch the blanket and wrapped it around himself. “Did I strip?”

His brother laughed out loud and true amusement spread across Logan’s face. “Well, I didn’t strip you down. I guess some things don’t change all that much. You hated wearing clothes as a kid, too.”

“Yeah, well. You said Pip’s on her way?”

That fast, Logan’s smile vanished, a scowl taking its place, and it dawned on Archer that his brother had shaved his beard. “Yes. She said to tell you to not take anything.”

Archer stopped in the door of the bedroom and leaned against the jamb for support. “That mean’s she’s bringing Gilly’s hangover cure. God help me. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

When he came back out a few minutes later, showered and clad in jeans, he felt somewhat better. At least a step or two above death warmed over. Logan, however, was still in a mood. Archer was opening his mouth to ask him what the problem was when a soft tapping sounded at the door.

“Hey, you. How are you?” she asked as Logan let her in.

Archer’s lip curled when he saw the cup in her hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is.” She handed it to him and he shuddered.

“I don’t know whether to say thanks or ask you what I did to you to deserve this. Bottoms up.”

He drank it as quickly as he could, not letting his taste buds have a chance to protest. If they did he knew he’d throw it back up. Once it was empty he slammed the paper cup down, holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

“Dear God, that’s awful,” he managed, swallowing back the nausea that had risen into his throat. If he could keep the concoction down a few minutes it would start taking the hangover away.

Logan picked the cup up and sniffed it suspiciously. “What the hell is in this?”

“That is a secret only Gilly knows,” Amelia replied. “Fortunately, we haven’t had to ask her to make it that often. My family is mostly teetotalers.”

Archer went back to the couch and sat down. Amelia followed him. He shivered a bit in the cool air that was wafting in from the screen door, and she pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to wrap around him.

“Why in the world did you let him do this to himself?” she chided Logan.

“He’s a grown man. This was his choice.”

She shook her head with disapproval. “You’re the older brother. You’re supposed to be responsible. Must be the Army coming out of you.”

The laugh that Archer quickly choked into a cough surprised him. Logan’s overreaction to Amelia was telling, and given that she was the youngest of five, he figured she’d be able to hold her own pretty well against his brother.

“So why’d you shave?” Archer asked, trying to deflect their attention from the argument.

Logan blew out an aggravated breath and paced back and forth in front of the couch, very much like a caged tiger. “Because you kept calling me ‘Dad’ last night, damn it.” Amelia’s snickers made his frown grow even more, and Archer had to cover his mouth to hide his smile. But his brother’s next words wiped his humor away.

“So, now that you’ve delivered your potion, you’ll want to be going,” Logan told Amelia. “Archer and I have some private matters to discuss.”

Archer scowled. “Hey! Watch the tone. And what kind of private matters? Pip knows pretty much everything about me. Whatever it is you have to say, spit it out. And keep a lid on the attitude.”

“I can leave,” she offered, starting to stand. Archer stopped her.

“No, you’re fine. Stay.”

Logan stopped in front of him, not speaking, and it was then Archer realized his brother was quietly furious.

“What’s wrong, Lo?”

He glanced at Amelia, then focused back on Archer. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck you meant when you said last night that Candace had killed the cat? And that she’s getting out of prison in a few weeks?”

“Oh.” Archer felt his cheeks heat and he dropped his gaze. “I guess I got talky, huh?”

Amelia’s hand came up to push his hair back off his ear. “I should go. This is definitely a private discussion. Call me later if you need to. I’ll fix you some supper or something if you don’t feel up to cooking. And stay away from the hooch. That isn’t going to do anyone any good.” She gave him a motherly kiss on top of his head as she stood. “Logan, go easy on him. He had good reasons for doing what he did.”

“You’re the one who argued that I should tell him,” Archer protested, grabbing her hand. He didn’t want Logan to think she’d been part of the reason he’d kept the secrets. His brother already seemed to have a problem with Amelia, for whatever reason.

“And I understand why you didn’t. It’s done. He knows. But you’ve had a few years to adjust to this,” she murmured. “You go easy on him, too.” With a quick nod at Logan she grabbed her bag and left.

The apartment was quiet as Logan stared at him. Archer didn’t try to speak until after he’d heard Amelia’s car start up and drive away. As soon as he opened his mouth, Logan lit into him.

Archer didn’t bother interrupting the tirade. He knew Logan had every right to be upset, and he let his brother get most of the anger off his chest before he even tried to explain.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to blame yourself any more than you already were. And honestly, I didn’t know the cat was really gone until about a year after the shooting. As to her early release? That’s a fairly recent development. This has been the summer and fall from hell. Between the new job, the thing with Emma, Zanny’s wreck, Sydney getting sick… I didn’t have the strength to tackle the subject with you.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Logan’s voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, as he sat in the recliner beside the couch.

“Yes. I knew I’d have to. But I did want to wait until you were in a situation where learning about it wouldn’t potentially put you in danger from distraction and anger. I accuse you of trying to protect me too much, but I’m as guilty as you are. I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Logan sat back in the chair. His anger was fading, though it wasn’t completely gone, Archer knew. “How the hell do you cope with that? Not having the cat inside you anymore?”

“It was an adjustment. I was in denial at first, but the loss wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should have been, I guess. You know how close things were when she shot me. You know they lost me several times. I guess I eventually figured that I was lucky to only have lost the cat, and to be able to have full use of my body. It could have been a lot worse.”