~ Twenty-one ~

Baby, baby,
when first we met
I knew in this heart of mine
That you were someone I couldn’t forget.
I said right,
and abide my time.

—ALISON KRAUSS

“Baby, Now That I’ve Found You”

Michael heard three knocks at his front door. He reached for the remote that controlled the stereo, turning down the volume on the Alison Krauss song as he walked through the living room.

Emma smiled at him when he opened the door.

She was beautiful. He wondered how many times he’d dreamed of moments like this. Her smile softened, her eyes connected with his like an answer to a prayer, and a slight breeze caught her hair, sweeping strands across her face.

“Emma … you look …”

“Cold?”

“I’m sorry … I was a little distracted there for a moment. Yes, come in, please.”

Emma stepped onto the entryway rug. A pair of Michael’s work boots toppled over as he shut the door.

“Have you decided what you want to eat?” he asked.

“Yes,” Emma said. “Anything edible … and portable. Let’s just grab something and come back here, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to face a crowd.”

After an awkward pause, Michael stepped toward Emma. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped and instead wrapped his strong arms around her like he couldn’t last another minute without her. It felt good to hold her again. She brushed her cheek against his, and the moment blurred into a kiss. Her kiss. He was lost in a spell of dizzying perfection. The kiss ended, the spell was broken, but Michael continued holding her.

“What was that?” he asked, hoping she felt the powerful electrical current that had just passed through them like lightning.

“I don’t know,” she said, setting her forehead against Michael’s shoulder. “I don’t have words.”

Michael let her go and they both took a step back.

“I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she said with a smile—the sweetest Michael had seen from Emma all week.

“Um … I think this would be a good time to go get some food then,” he said, collecting his truck keys from off the entryway table, and lifting his coat from a wooden peg next to the front door. He held the door for Emma, and she waited for him in the porch light until he’d locked up the house.

“So you really don’t have any specific thoughts about food?” Michael asked, once they’d climbed into the truck.

“Well … those shrimp we had the other night were pretty good. Where did you say you’d gotten those?”

“Allen’s Place. Seafood is a great idea,” he said, fishing his cell phone off a storage ledge on the dash.

“Then Allen’s Place it is.”

Michael pushed a button on his cell while he backed the truck down the slanted driveway.

“Hey, Jennifer, it’s Mike. Do you think I can get a to-go order for a dozen grilled shrimp …”

“You have their number programmed?” Emma teased. He nodded.

“… rice and hush puppies.”

“Can you ask if they have stuffed crab?”

“… an order of stuffed crab, and how about a pound of crab legs too … yes, to go … all right, Jennifer. Thanks, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Michael set the phone back on the dash, next to a package of peppermint gum. “About fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“That’s fast,” Emma said. “But what’s with the ‘Mike’ … and who’s Jennifer?”

“Jennifer? She’s my girlfriend, of course. I thought maybe you two should meet.” She punched his arm teasingly.

“So where is Allen’s Place? Or should I say Jennifer’s place? Is it off Main? I think I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, it’s not too far from where we ran into each other a week ago today. We ran past it on our way to Meredith’s Bakery. It’s just down the street. If you like their shrimp, you’ll like the rest of their menu too. Allen’s is one of those places that manages to get everything right.” Michael turned on the radio.

“Mmm, I love this song,” Emma said, reaching over to turn up the volume. They had twenty minutes or so to kill before dinner would be ready. Michael just cruised around downtown. Shop signs on Main Street were lit in radiant neon cursive letters spelling out the names of the businesses. Emma hummed along with the song.

“You sound happy tonight,” said Michael.

“I am. And if I had to come up with a reason, I’d stumble. There are too many to count,” she said, still humming along with the sweet country tune.

“Hey, you’ll get no cross-examination from me, counselor. If you’re happy in more ways than one, I’m good with that.”

Michael turned the truck around in the town square; kids were hanging out near their cars, laughing and teasing one another. The officer in a nearby police car gave Michael a friendly wave as they drove past.

“You know everybody in Juneberry, don’t you?”

“Most, I guess,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Emma turned to face Michael. “Is it just me or does this feel like a perfect night to take a stroll?”

Michael didn’t answer; he just slowed the truck and parked it underneath a gas street lamp on Main about two blocks from Allen’s. It was still early, though the town wore the look of a much later hour. Only a few people walked this part of Main Street.

“I feel like Christina. I just want to shout and say hi to everybody we meet!” Emma said, jumping down the sidewalk.

“Go crazy,” Michael said. “Don’t let me stop you.”

They strolled along Main Street, window shopping, though many of the stores were already closed. Emma threaded her arm through Michael’s.

“What is it about this place, Michael? It’s so far removed from the rest of the world. Things seem so simple, it’s almost perfect here.”

“I think it is perfect,” Michael said. “Well, not perfect, but people work hard and treat each other with respect here. That makes more of a difference than you might think.”

They walked beyond the awnings, past the St. Charles Pub.

“I’ll miss it,” she said.

“Really?” he said. “That surprises me a little.”

“Surprises you?” She tried looking into Michael’s eyes as they walked. “Why?”

“Because it’s a big change. I mean, you’ve obviously been through a lot this week, we all have. I would have thought you’d be missing Boston right about now.”

“I do miss Boston. I really like it there. But this is so peaceful, you know? Well, of course you know. Dad says that sometimes after church, when it’s been especially meaningful, he experiences a time of reflection he calls the afterglow. I love that word. That’s exactly what I feel like now. It’s almost as if the whole week’s been a church service and this is my afterglow.” Emma looked up at the stars, pinpoint specks of pure energy. “I think I’d classify it as a spiritual thing. I can’t really tell. I just know I feel it going through every part of me.”

Michael squeezed Emma’s hand. “We’re almost there.”

He meant “almost to Allen’s Place,” but another thought crossed his mind after the words spilled out. Almost.

What sort of “almost” would tomorrow bring?

Michael took Emma by the hand and they headed across the street. A single car’s headlights appeared, its loud muffler rumbling as it drove toward them. Michael pulled Emma as they ran between the white lines of the crosswalk. A blinking sign, an orangey-pink and white, instructed them: “Don’t Walk.”

“Michael, we’re not suppose to walk,” Emma laughed.

“We’re not walking, we’re running.”

On the other side of the avenue, they crossed one more street and walked downstairs into Allen’s. A three-hundred-gallon aquarium stretched the length of the rear wall, filled with exotic tropical fish swimming between underground ferns and treasure chests. The smell of butter and garlic filled the air.

Michael approached the hostess, a smiling woman who looked to be in her late sixties. She smiled broadly when she saw Michael.

“Mike, you’re right on time. I’ll get your order.”

The woman disappeared into the kitchen.

“Jennifer?” asked Emma.

“Yup. I did some work here a couple years back. She kept calling me Mike even though I told her my name was Michael. After awhile I just gave in. I mean … with food as good as this, she could call me Stan for all I care.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Yes, I do.” Crazy for you, Em. “You know, it might have been fun to just get a table,” he said.

“I was thinking the same thing, but let’s just take the food home. I’d love to have dinner by the fire.”

Jennifer returned with two paper grocery sacks filled and rolled closed at the top.

“Wow, did we really order that much food?” Emma said.

“It’s probably the crab legs,” Michael said.

“How many legs does a crab have?”

Michael shot a smile to Emma and gave the hostess two twenty-dollar bills.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, Mike? Wait … you’re Emma. Am I right?”

“Jennifer, meet Emma. Emma, Jennifer. It may be called Allen’s Place on the sign, but Jennifer is the brains behind the operation.”

“Good to meet you,” Emma said. “I really like this place. And the food …”

“That’s Allen’s department,” she said. “But I don’t mean to keep you, the night is young.”

“Be sure and tell Allen I said hey,” Michael said.

“I will,” Jennifer said, smiling. “You two have a good night now.”

They stepped out into the night and nearly ran back to the truck.

Emma was right, Michael thought. A real wood fire was exactly what they needed to chase away the chill from their bones.

“Gosh, it’s turned cold,” Emma said, sliding into her seat and rubbing her hands together for warmth.

“Let’s get this truck started.”

Michael’s house wasn’t five minutes away. He turned right at the stoplight, which had switched over to a blinking red. A few more side streets, each shorter than the last, and they were once again parked in Michael’s lighted drive.

They let themselves in through the front door, shutting the cold behind them. A simple lamp on an end table by the sofa welcomed them with a golden glow. Emma grabbed the bags of food like a relay race baton and took them into the kitchen. Michael collected a handful of kindling and paper, and soon a growing flame burned.

Michael took a thick flannel blanket out of the cedar chest in the guest room and pitched it open on the floor in front of the fire. He added another, larger split of wood to the flames and moved the mesh screen back in place.

Emma appeared from the kitchen carrying their dinners on a large cookie sheet she’d covered with a patterned kitchen towel. She set the do-it-yourself tray on the hearth of the fireplace, already warm from the fire.

“This is perfect,” she said, sitting down on the soft blanket next to him. “The fire’s wonderful, Michael.”

Michael clasped his hands together, entwining his fingers to offer the sign-language symbol for prayer.

“Say grace?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Emma closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting her breath pour out like a comma, a pause between whatever had happened before and what was about to happen now. She felt the crackling fire caress her face with its warming fingers.

Michael offered thanks for the meal.

“What else can I do to make this, your final night in Juneberry, perfect?” Michael asked, tasting a bite of stuffed crab.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she smiled. “It already is.”

“So are you still in the afterglow?” he asked, leaning against the leather ottoman behind him.

“I must be,” she said. “I have this feeling like everything is just as it ought to be.”

“That sounds like a very good feeling.”

“It is,” Emma said. “It dawned on me at some point this week how special this whole experience has been.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, the way I ran into you, for example, that felt special. And how Samantha happened to visit my dad the day he had his heart attack. I’m not sure that was mere coincidence, you know?”

Emma brushed her hair away from her face. “So much of life is all about the ordinary, and then suddenly—whoosh! You find yourself in the middle of a week where nothing is ordinary. I feel a kind of peace I’ve never felt before, Michael. It can’t be put into words.”

Michael scratched at his ear in the crackling light of the fire.

“Do you mind if I ask you something … about us?”

“Yes, I mind,” Emma said, wiggling a grilled prawn from its skewer. Then she laughed. “I mean, you can, but I can’t promise a clear answer on that subject.”

Michael shrugged. “Okay, I won’t ask then.” The fire seemed suddenly dimmer.

“No, don’t do that. I didn’t mean to …” Emma set down her plate. “Ask me anything, Michael. I’ll answer best as I can.”

“Have you noticed how much this week has felt like that summer before you left for law school?”

“I have noticed some similarities.”

“Well, I’ve really enjoyed every minute we’ve shared and … I guess I’ve been wondering if you’re feeling the same way I am, which is to say, I think I’m falling in love with you …”

Emma looked into the fireplace, then back at Michael.

“Michael …” she began.

“Yeah.”

“You already know how much I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I’m still processing everything.” Emma sat upright. “There is one thing I know I need to do before I go, one thing I need to say.”

Michael listened intently, the room a perfect glow from the fire.

“I didn’t get it right last time, and I’m sorry. I’ve always regretted my decision.”

A prickling sensation rose up the side of his neck.

“What decision?” he asked, waiting on the next words that would come from her mouth.

“I left without saying good-bye,” Emma said. “This time, I’m not going to sneak away. I’m going to do right by us.”

Michael nodded in short, quick motions.

“And doing right means … saying good-bye to me, in person?” he asked. He wanted Emma to hear how it sounded in plain English.

“Yes,” she said. “I want us to stand face-to-face and be able to say ‘good-bye.’ I want to do my best this time.”

“I have to be honest with you, Emma,” he said, sounding like a cowboy who’s slept more nights under clouds than under the stars. “Your best could still use some work.”

o o o

Earlier that evening at a popular watering hole in Boston frequented by lawyers, politicians, and others who plied the legal trade, Lara Gilmor spotted Colin ordering a drink at the bar. In his charcoal suit and tie, he looked like he’d just left court. To Lara, Colin always looked like he was on the verge of claiming the city as his own.

She’d spoken to him when he’d visited Adler, McCormick & Madison, only about business, but she’d hoped for a casual conversation some day, or night, in a less formal setting. Lara approached him from behind.

“Colin?” she said, like she had just noticed him.

Colin turned around to discover the 5'4" blonde standing at his elbow in the crowded, noisy bar.

“Hi, it’s me, Lara Gilmor. I’m an attorney at Adler, McCormick & Madison. I saw you standing here by yourself, so I thought I’d come over and say hi.”

“Yes, Lara, right. I think I remember you. Didn’t we talk about the Jackson case? Or was it about the latest episode of Boston Legal?”

“The Jackson case. I work with Emma—we’re really good friends. We talk on the phone all the time.”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry, it’s just hard to place someone out of familiar context,” he said, taking a seat on a tall, trendy bar stool. He gestured for Lara to take the other open seat. “So what do you hear from Emma?”

“I just spoke to her not long ago, and she’s doing fine. You know she’s coming back soon.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow. Everyone will be thrilled to get her back in the office. You know, losing a partner unexpectedly really throws everything into a spin.”

“I can imagine.”

“I’m sure her friends and family won’t be as excited about her going home as we’ll be about getting her back.”

Lara took a sip of her drink.

“Well, she is fun to have around. I can imagine they’ll miss her,” Colin said.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she hasn’t come right out and said anything, but I think she’s sorta conflicted about coming back,” Lara said, raising her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” Colin asked.

“I could be wrong, but I think she’s hesitant to come back because she’s found a boyfriend. I mean, why else would she drag her feet about coming back all this time?”

Working her eyebrows again, Lara gave Colin the cue that it was time for him to read between the lines. He set his drink down on the bar.

“Well, maybe she’s just enjoying reconnecting with old friends.”

“Hmm … could be, if by ‘old friends’ you mean an old boyfriend …”

Colin stared at his drink, then looked into Lara’s eyes. “Did you ask her directly about this?” He sounded like an attorney questioning a witness.

“No, I don’t like to meddle in someone’s private affairs,” Lara said. “Still, it’s not hard putting two and two together.”

Colin stood, traces of jealousy pinching his face. He removed his billfold from his front suit-coat pocket, and tossed a few bills on the counter.

“Thanks, Lara. I’ll see you later,” he said, and excited the bar.

Lara sipped again from her candy-striped straw before returning to her friend’s booth along the wall. She was very pleased with herself.

o o o

The embers glowed orange in the still, dim room. Emma was lying on her back, traces of firelight softening her skin. Michael was next to her on his stomach; balanced on his elbows, chin resting on his hands. She looked at him, half marveling, half curious. Their faces were mere inches apart, but there was a greater distance between them she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Please, I want to know,” said Emma, continuing a conversation that had been left incomplete at least ten minutes earlier.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing’s obvious to me these days.”

Michael leaned over and kissed Emma on the forehead, then the bridge of her nose, finally, on her lips.

Emma closed her eyes. When she opened them, Michael had returned to his relaxed posture. He was looking into her eyes.

“I love you, Emma. How much more obvious can I be?” he said.

“Michael …”

“I can love whoever I want, Emma, but I can’t make someone love me back,” he said. “That’s how it feels to be in love with you.”

“Michael, I do love you … it’s just that …”

“You don’t love me, Emma. You just love the idea of love.” Michael stood and turned on an overhead light.

“I know it’s been an emotional week for me—okay, that’s an understatement, but we have a certain connection. If it’s not love, what is it?” she asked.

“Emma, you don’t leave someone you love. When you can’t live without somebody, that’s when you know you really love them.”

“When you can’t live without someone …” Emma repeated, then suddenly sat up. “Wait … are you saying you can’t live without me?”

“Not this week,” he answered. “You didn’t say good-bye last time, Emma, but you’re saying it tonight. There’s something I should have said last time, too. Something that I’ve regretted all these years.”

Somehow, Emma knew the word he was going to say before it left his lips.

“Stay.”