Chapter 11

When the alarm went off at eight on Sunday morning, Emma felt like she hadn’t slept. She’d lain awake for what seemed hours, reliving the humiliation Rachel’s journal had stirred up. When she finally slept, she'd seen Rachel and Evan whispering together and laughing at her.

She shook off her dreams and steeled herself for a few more hours of heavy cleaning, this time with a whining preteen at her side. Andrew was even less enthusiastic about getting out of bed than she was, and she had to threaten to take away his Gameboy to get him up.

But by the time they reached Nappanee, he stopped sulking and took an interest in the Amish farms that dotted the area.

“So this is where Aunt Rachel lives?”

“Lived. Yes, the house is right over there. See it?”

They pulled off the gravel road and onto the long driveway. The dog ran back and forth in the pen and barked hysterically.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me there was a dog.” Andrew threw open his door and ran up to the pen. “What’s your name, boy?”

Emma shut Andrew’s door and came to stand by him. “This is Trixie. She’s a girl.”

He knelt and stuck his hand through the fence, holding it palm up for Trixie to sniff. When she licked his fingers, he grinned. “She likes me, Mom!”

And then he voiced her own thought. “Who’s going to take care of her?”

How had she forgotten this inconvenient detail? “There’s a neighbor who’s feeding her, a nice man named Matthew.”

“But what about later? Who’s going to keep her?”

She could see the hope sprouting, growing like the smile that spread across his face. “What if we–”

“We can’t take her,” she said, firmly nipping his plan in the bud. “We’ll just have to find someone.”

“Oh, why not? Why can’t we keep her? Isn’t she cute?”

Trixie’s tail thumped against the concrete driveway, and she tilted her head to one side as if to say, “Yeah, why not?”

Emma searched for a definitive argument. “Our yard is too small. She wouldn’t be happy.”

“But she’s living in a cage right now. We could take her for walks every day. I’d take care of her myself. Please, Mom? She needs us.”

“We’ll see.”

Andrew’s shoulders slumped. “ ‘We’ll see’ means no.”

“No, it means we’ll see. I’m not making any decisions until I talk to your dad.”

Placating him with a promise to call Joe on the way home, she set him to work on the overgrown yard. He started by scooping up the dog poop with a shovel they found in the garage. The timing was perfect; instead of his typical complaining, he was actually cheerful, eager to prove he could take care of a dog. Dumping a load into the garbage can, he said, “Picking up dog poop isn’t so bad. It’s almost like an Easter egg hunt—without the candy.”

Emma laughed until tears trickled down her cheeks. “Just don’t get confused,” she choked out. “It does kind of look like chocolate.”

“Gross, Mom!” Andrew looked at her with shock and admiration, as if he’d never dreamed she could share his crude sense of humor.

When their laughter faded to an occasional snort, she said, “I needed that, Andrew. It feels good to laugh. Know what? You have your father’s sense of humor.”

He grinned. “I do?”

“Yes. He used to make me laugh so hard when we first met. We were supposed to be studying, but it was hard to think about tax accounting when he was in one of those crazy moods.”

***

The rest of morning passed quickly, and Emma was surprised at how she enjoyed her son’s company. After they got the lawnmower working, with a little help from Matthew, Andrew mowed the whole yard.

He showed her his blistered palms afterward, his face glowing with pride. “Did I do a good job, Mom?”

“Oh, yes,” she assured him, applying a bandage over the worst wound. “Your dad will be so proud of you when I tell him how hard you worked.”

“When you call him to ask about Trixie?” 

Emma rolled her eyes. “I suppose.” 

“What’s next? Is there something else I can help with?”

Could this be the same boy who always made cleaning his room such an ordeal? 

“No, we’re taking the afternoon off,” she answered. “I think Grandma is taking us to the Dunes.”

“Awesome! Can Adam come too?”

“We’ll see.”

***

Emma closed her eyes, savoring the breeze off the lake. She felt safe here, surrounded by her family, enjoying a picnic of her mother’s famous ham salad. Surely, everything was the same as it ever was.

Uncle Robert settled onto the faded quilt next to her. “How much longer are you staying?” he asked. “You must be almost finished with Rachel’s house by now.”

She pondered her answer over a bite of sandwich, gritty with the sugar sand that coated everything. After her initial reluctance to stay, now she was almost afraid to go home. As long as she kept herself busy cleaning up the mess Rachel had left behind, she didn’t have to think about the rest of her life without her.

“There’s still a bit more to do,” she answered at last. “I need to go through the closet and box up their clothes so we can donate them. And I’d like to give the whole interior a coat of paint.” She didn’t mention her plans for the nursery, afraid of being challenged as irrational.

“You don’t have to do everything, honey. Brian and I can at least do the painting.”

“Yes, I know. Maybe I’m just not ready to go.”

“Do you feel close to Rachel there?”

Emma’s mouth twisted. “Yeah,” she whispered. Robert rubbed her back lightly, saying nothing.

She was thankful when her mother joined them and changed the subject. “Andrew tells me you're going to take Trixie. What did Joe say about that?”

Emma sighed forcefully. “I was hoping he’d be the voice of reason, but all he said was ‘Why not?’. With Andrew sitting next to me, leaning close to the phone, that settled it. In his mind, at least.”

“How will you get her home?” Robert asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” her mother said. “I was hoping you might drive my car back to Texas with you. Since Rachel left me her Corolla, I need to sell my old car. But I figure you’d be better at managing those details.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said. “It’s a long drive for me without Joe. Can the car even make it?”

“You’ll have Andrew with you, and your cell phone,” Robert interjected. “Brian and I can look the car over before you go, give it a tune-up.”

The longer she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She was in no rush to get home anyway, and this would give her a chance to connect with Andrew.

“That just might work,” she said. “I’ll talk to Joe about it.”

***

After dipping one toe in the icy lake, Emma retreated to her sandy quilt. She lay on her stomach on the lumpy sand, luxuriating in the sun on her back and the echoes of the children’s laughter over the water. It took her back to the times she and Rachel had played here with their cousins, and then to her nightmare about Rachel drowning.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and reached for her massive straw tote, the one Joe called her Mary Poppins bag. Pushing aside the lotions, sunscreen, and camera, she drew out the journal with trembling hands. Time to find out why Rachel betrayed me.

She flipped through page after page of Rachel’s often sloppy handwriting, but found no mention of the prom. Rachel wrote about exams, a couple of disappointing dates (none with Paul), and Emma’s departure for college.

                Sunday 8/23/92 PMEmma left for Indianapolis today, and I’m sprawled on her bed now. I’ve wanted my own room for so long, but it’s boring without her. Actually, it’s been lonely lately, even with her here.

It’s been three months since the prom, and Emma’s still… aloof. Not angry exactly, but different. I miss her! I tried to talk to her once, apologize even, but she brushed me off. “I’m just busy,” she said. 

And she was. She was always out, hanging out with friends, going to the movies, making arrangements for college. When there was no way to avoid me, she was polite, but she never really talked to me. It hurts! We went from sharing everything to just being civil—in one night.

If only I’d never gone to the prom. It wasn’t worth it, to lose my best friend. How can I get her back when she won’t even admit anything’s wrong?

I think she chose to go away to college just to get away from me, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe spending some time apart will make all this awkwardness fade away.

Emma was stunned. And ashamed. Why had it never occurred to her that Rachel might have suffered too? She’d had her anger to protect her, but Rachel…. Why didn’t I just talk to Rachel, yell at her, make things right?

Although she hadn’t admitted it at the time, even to herself, she realized now that Rachel was right about her motivation for choosing University of Indianapolis. She’d had scholarship offers both from there and from IUSB, but South Bend would have been much easier. She could have lived at home instead of working twenty hours a week to pay her living expenses.

Instead, she had run away to Indianapolis, away from Rachel and Evan and every reminder of her humiliation. She’d been naïve enough to believe she could run away from herself, too, and start a whole new life. But here she was all these years later, still bruised and lonely, her life crumbling inexorably around her.

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