“What about you?” Derian asked.
Emily jumped. “Sorry? What about me?”
Derian gave her a curious glance. “Have you
eaten?”
“Tea and a cookie about…” She shrugged and
grinned sheepishly. “What feels like a million years ago, but I don’t want to
go anywhere.”
“I bet I can find someplace to deliver.”
Emily grasped Derian’s arm when she reached
for her phone. “No, really. I mean, I’m certain that you can. But I don’t want
you to. I’m too nervous to eat anyway. I’ll be hungry later when we have good
news.”
Derian turned her hand over and Emily’s palm
slid easily over hers. Emily stared at their hands together. She couldn’t. She
didn’t even know her. Even as she thought the words, she slid her fingers
between Derian’s and squeezed gently. “It really is going to be all right.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Emily reluctantly extracted
her hand from Derian’s. “Just sit and close your eyes for a while, then. It
will help.”
Derian glanced at her. “You sound like you’ve
had some experience.”
“I have,” Emily said quietly.
Derian waited, watching her, and her silence,
the unspoken compassion in her gaze, brought the past rushing back before Emily
could throw up the barriers.
*
“I was seventeen, just a few weeks before I
was set to travel to America for college.”
As always happened every time Emily thought
about it, or, rarely, spoke of it, the present faded and she was back in her
old bedroom again, staring into her closet, trying to decide what to leave
behind. Living where it snowed would be fun—she hoped. At least it was a good reason
to shop, although she planned to do most of that once she arrived. For the last
month she’d scoured the university website, not just for the classes she wanted
to take—which was the most exciting part—but also for activities of interest on
campus and off, wondering how well she’d fit in when she didn’t know anyone. As
intimidating as the idea of being alone in a new place was at times, she still
couldn’t wait to go. What an adventure, especially for her, the least
adventurous member of the family. The phone rang and she ignored it, taking out
three shirts, holding them up and then putting one back. She simply couldn’t
take everything, and she had
to take her books. She couldn’t live for four years without them.
Footsteps in the hall were followed by a brisk
knock on her partially open door. She glanced over at the butler. She started
to speak, but the look on his face strangled the words in her throat.
“A call for you, Miss May,” Joseph said in an
oddly tight, formal tone. He held out the phone. His hand trembled. “It’s the
police.”