Protector - Laurel Dewey [62]
“Well, I guess this conversation is over,” Jane surmised, observing Emily.
“What do you mean?”
“Your arms told me.”
Emily looked down at her arms folded across her chest. “What’d they say?”
“You’re cutting me off. You’re feeling defensive.”
Emily thought about it. “What’s defensive?”
“It’s like you’re building a big wall around yourself so no one can find you.”
Emily slowly uncurled her arms. “What does this mean?”
Jane looked across at Emily who was almost sharing her identical pose. “That’s what you call ‘mirroring.’ It’s that I look like you and you look like me.”
Emily carefully observed Jane. “Oh, yeah . . . Is that good?”
“Well, you changed your position to mirror mine, so that means you’re trying to make me feel more comfortable.”
Emily considered the idea. “Is it working?”
Jane looked at Emily and felt a slight smile come up on her lips. “Maybe.”
“What does this mean?” Emily slid her index finger down to her tummy and gently poked it again and again.
“You’re telling the pitcher to throw a fast ball,” Jane said with a deadpan expression.
Emily smiled at the joke. “It means I’m hungry. Would you please fix me some scrambled eggs?”
“Eggs?”
“Yeah, eggs.”
“Okay,” Jane said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen. Emily quickly followed behind her. Jane opened the refrigerator and found a carton of eggs that Chris bought. Setting the carton on a nearby counter, she contemplated what to do.
“Mommy and I made eggs every morning on our camping trip! I’ll get you a bowl,” Emily said, opening a cabinet and removing a white bowl.
“Okay.” Jane awkwardly grabbed an egg and broke it over the bowl, landing most of the yolk on the table. “Shit,” she said under her breath.
Emily opened a drawer, pulled out a towel and diligently sopped up the mess. “Try it again,” Emily said quietly, her eyes pinned onto the bowl.
Jane cracked another egg against the bowl and the same thing happened, this time knocking some of the yolk onto her hand. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Jane grumbled. Emily quickly swept up the residue. “I’ll try it this way,” Jane said, slamming the egg against the inside of the bowl, scattering tiny flecks of the smashed eggshell into the broken yolk.
“You got to pick those things out,” Emily said, looking into the bowl.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Jane said, digging for pieces of the eggshell.
“This isn’t the way Mommy does it.”
“Look, it’s been a long time since I made scrambled eggs and I’ve pretty much forgotten how it’s done.”
“Don’t you cook at your home?”
“Not really.”
“How do you eat?” Emily asked, astonished.
“I know how to put food in a microwave and I’ve got Domino’s on speed dial.”
“Are you joking?” Emily said seriously with a semi-shocked look on her face.
“No. How does a pizza sound?”
“How about a sandwich?”
“Pizza.”
Emily held her fist in the air. “Rock, paper, scissors. If you win, pizza. If I win, sandwich.” Jane rolled her eyes and held out her fist. “Okay, on three,” Emily instructed. Jane and Emily brought their fists up and down in unison as Emily counted it out. Emily made the form of a pair of scissors and Jane kept her fist clenched. “Rock crushes scissors,” Emily said, defeated. “Pizza.”
Jane rifled through the nearby phone book until she found the number for a pizza parlor. Pulling the cell phone from her jacket pocket, she dialed and rattled off her order like a seasoned pro. Emily slid onto one of the kitchen chairs and watched Jane intently. She noted that Jane’s navy blue pants were wrinkled, her denim shirt had a spot on the pocket and that her tan leather jacket looked as old as her leather satchel. Jane removed her jacket, tossing it on a chair. Emily immediately eyed Jane’s shoulder holster and black pistol. “No anchovies, right?” Jane asked Emily, lowering the phone.
“Huh?” Emily said, still in awe of Jane’s pistol.
“Never mind.” Jane lifted the phone, continuing the order. Emily crept out of her chair and worked her way around the kitchen table toward Jane. She stood next to Jane, her eyes on the same level as Jane’s Glock. Jane