Chapter Seventeen

 

It had been three days since her awful argument with Jake. He hadn’t texted or called. Neither she nor Faith had seen him at the inn. Where was he? Yesterday morning Emma had sneaked into his room, and his clothes were still there.

Missing him was painful. Her stomach, her throat, and her heart ached. How was it possible to go without seeing a man for nine years, then suddenly feel like she might wither and die without him? Was she completely wrong about his offer to help her?

She’d rebuffed all of Maddie’s efforts to cheer Emma up. Finally, last night, her friend browbeat Emma into acceptance and dragged her to dinner and a movie. Even her favorite lobster ravioli at La Scala, her favorite Italian restaurant, and two hours with Mark Wahlberg failed to cheer her up.

When she’d returned to the inn. There was no light beneath Faith’s door, so Emma climbed the back stairs to her room. The door to Jake’s room was ajar. Her spirits soared. Now, at least they could talk.

Nervous, she bit her lips as her heart started to pound. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath. You can do this, Emma. It’s Jake. Your Jake. Maybe you misunderstood what he was trying to tell you. She’d squared her shoulders and attempted to put a smile on her face.

“Jake?” She pushed the door open.

The streetlight outside softly shone into the room—the stark, empty room. No sign remained that he had ever been here. Even the scent of his aftershave had vanished. Her shoulders drooped under the weight of her disappointment.

“Where are you, Jake?” she whispered.

Her spirits were still dragging the next morning, but she had two essential activities on her agenda. First, she was visiting Mrs. McBride at Rollicking Hills Camp. In the afternoon, she was going to the farm to exercise the horses, which she was really excited about.

After meeting with Griff and the stable hand, Jimmy, last week, her schedule was set. Dressed in jeans, a turtleneck, and a thick wool sweater, she pulled on her tall riding boots and dragged her hair into a ponytail. Already the smell of freshly baked pecan sticky buns wafted up the back stairs, tempting her to eat something. Faith was doing everywhere in her power to lure her into eating. In her misery, she couldn’t rally any appetite at all.

Before heading out to Rollicking Hills, she cruised by Jake’s apartment and his office. There was no sign of his big black SUV in any parking lot, including the hospital. She’d even called his office, not giving her name, asking if he was in, only to be informed he was taking a few days off.

What was wrong with her? Ignoring the heat of embarrassment spreading across her face and ears, she tried to rationalize her stalkerish behavior. All she needed to know was that the man was all right. Obviously, if he’d taken a few days off, he was perfectly fine. No doubt he was skiing.

Glancing at the old Jeep’s gas gauge, she saw it was sputtering on empty. Clearly, she didn’t have enough to drive out to the camp and quickly turned into the Gas and Go. Seriously? Her nemesis, Amber Waite Headlee, pulled in right behind Emma. No way could Emma chance making it to another gas station downtown. What insults did she have to endure from Miss Spiteful today?

“Well, well.” Amber checked out Emma’s riding boots. “Since Jake’s moving to the country, are you getting all horsey on us?”

What the…? Moving where? “Hello, Amber. I’ve been pretty horsey since I was six years old. Are you off work today?”

“Unfortunately, no. I have to deliver sale documents to Jake.”

Pay dirt. Emma would be damned if she’d ask Amber where Jake moved. By noon half the town would know Emma didn’t know where her own boyfriend was living.

“You headed out there now?” Amber asked.

“Later today.” Emma lied since she didn’t have a clue where there was. Anger and disappointment welled up inside her. It seemed strange Jake wouldn’t have told her he was moving. Was he still as angry with her as he was the day he stalked out of the inn?

She removed her gas cap. After starting to pump, she glanced at Amber’s older blue hatchback and noticed an easel in the back seat.

“Do you paint?” Emma asked.

The other woman ducked her head, shifting from one foot to the other, caught off-guard. “Well, sort of. I mean, I’ve never been to art school or anything.”

“May I see?” Emma pointed to the painting she could barely make out through the dirty hatchback window.

“I guess.” Amber popped the glass open.

Astonished, Emma’s mouth fell open. Even her pulse ratcheted up at the discovery of the stunning painting. Amber used a remarkable technique of layering a translucent human subject over the landscape of dark, mysterious woods. For a moment, Emma’s argument with Jake vanished as she found herself drawn into the dark setting of Amber’s creation.

“This is amazing.” Emma’s breath hitched. “You really have talent. Why aren’t you painting for a living?” Maybe it was a rude thing to ask. After all, Amber had a son to raise and needed a steady paycheck.

For once, Amber seemed at a loss for words. Then her chin lifted, and a shy smile appeared. “Seriously? The daughter of the famous Margaret Shay Kimball likes my work?”

“She does.” Emma couldn’t be more surprised than Amber. Who would have thought?

“Well…thanks.” Amber’s lips twitched a little before blossoming into a dazzling, full-fledged smile. The first she’d ever shone to Emma, ever.

“Sometime, I’d like to see more of it.” Who would ever have thought mean old Amber would possess a talent like that? Emma shook her head in disbelief. “Right now, there is someplace I need to be.”

When her tank was filled, she spun the Jeep toward the station entrance, shooting Amber a quick wave. Emma’s break from reality was over. Jake bought a house and didn’t see fit to tell her. It was like a knockout punch to the gut. Obviously, the sale had been in motion before their big argument, and he’d chosen not to tell her. Buckling under the weight of her hurt and frustration, she blew out a long, ragged breath and dropped her shoulders.

Shoot! Glancing at her watch, she barely had fifteen minutes to get to her meeting with Mrs. McBride, which was several miles out in the country on the opposite side of town. Not having any idea where Amber would lead her, Emma called Mrs. McBride to reschedule their meeting.

After circling the block, Emma caught up with Amber just past the Dairy Queen. Careful not to be spotted, Emma hung back, staying behind a semi and another car, exactly like any good TV cop would do.

Jake must really be moving to the country because they were past the city limits. She was surprised when Amber swung onto Paradise Road. Without having the semi in front of her, Emma slowed. Her breath caught when Amber took a left into the driveway of Griff’s old farmhouse.

What was this? Emma practically choked on her own disbelief. A moving van was parked in front, and Jake’s black SUV sat beside it. Did something happen to Griff’s housekeeper? Was Jake renting the house?

No. Amber worked for a title company. She was delivering sale documents to Jake. He’d bought the house, her house.

White-hot anger flushed through Emma as she pounded her fist on the steering wheel. The pulse point in her right temple started to throb, which meant a migraine was on its way. He had gone behind her back and bought the beautiful old house. His betrayal and subterfuge eviscerated any thoughts of an apology. Why would he do this to her? Hadn’t she said the old house and barn would be perfect for a camp?

No way could she confront him with Amber in the house. Hoping she wasn’t spotted, Emma blasted by the house, taking several backroads to circle back to the driveway beside the barn. No way would she neglect her job, the only one earning her money at the moment. Ghost, the big dapple-gray gelding, would be her first ride. Griff said he hadn’t been ridden in almost two weeks and needed exercise.

Since the sun was shining and the temperature was in the low thirties, she would let the other horses, including Christmas and his mother, out to pasture for a few hours. She made a concerted effort not to look over at the house.

As soon as she rolled the barn door open, she was greeted by whinnies, snorts, and hoof stomping. “Hi, guys.”

She pulled a bag of carrots out of her pocket, giving each of her charges a treat. After the horses were out into the front pasture, she located Ghost’s saddle, pad, and bridle in the tack room. Excited, the big gray pranced out of his stall and bobbed his head while she put him in crossties to saddle. He was a big guy, over sixteen hands tall. Once she had saddled and ready to go, she grabbed a helmet and walked him outside, closing the barn door behind her. This colossal boy required the mounting block.

When she swung onto the saddle, she forced her anger to the back of her mind, determined not to let it spoil her ride. Setting off briskly toward the woods, Ghost danced, his ears twitching as the wind skittered across the snow-covered ground. The animal’s nervous energy and excitement sparked her own. For a time, the only thing she focused on was being astride the beautiful, spirited animal.

After giving him his head, they rode the perimeter of the grazing fields for almost an hour. Time to head back. She nudged him with her heels and click-clicked to him, urging him into a canter. Stretching forward, her face low over his neck, she moved with Ghost as he galloped flat out. The only sound was those of his hooves pounding across the hard, snow-covered earth.

Later, she brought him to a walk to cool down on the return trip to the barn. Jake’s SUV was gone along with the moving van. Glaring at the beautiful old farmhouse, her anger bubbled to the surface. This isn’t over, Jake Cutter, not by a long shot. I’m sure your explanation for this must be epic. But there’s nothing you can say that will fix this.

Emma gnawed on her lip. Her emotions were zinging all over the place. Rolling her neck to loosen her tense muscles, she remembered her mother’s words on the subject of people remarrying their spouses.

“If it didn’t work the first time,” her mother used to say, “it certainly isn’t going to work the second. Pure madness to deliberately repeat the same mistake twice. People may say they want to change, but nine times out of ten, they don’t.”

Of course, Emma and Jake weren’t married. He’d sounded sincere when he claimed he’d changed, yet his actions didn’t support it. The first thing out of his mouth undermined her knowledge of real estate and insurance, talking down to her like she was ignorant on either subject.

Emma was a social worker, not an attorney or businessperson. However, she was intelligent enough to consult qualified professionals to help her through the process. So why did the men most important in her life think she was incapable of accomplishing something on her own?

Sitting astride Ghost in the quiet stillness of twilight, their frosty breath billowing in the night air, her anger had somewhat cooled, but her frustration mounted. She bared her teeth. This would be yet another day passing without talking to Jake, without hearing the truth.