Protector - Laurel Dewey [82]
Emily stared at the living room floor. She wanted desperately to explain what she felt inside but she knew Jane was too angry to hear it.
Her mind drifted to her best friend, A.J. She wished A.J. was still in town so they could talk. No matter what the problem was, Emily felt she could always share her troubles with her. It wasn’t fair. Emily thought. A.J. and her family quickly moved away and didn’t even say good-bye. For a moment, Emily felt anger toward her chum but that soon dissipated into sadness and a longing to know why she left so suddenly. Emily fell back against the couch, fighting the loneliness that tugged at her heart. “I wish my mommy was here right now.”
“You and me both, kid!” Jane nervously adjusted her shoulder holster.
“Everybody is going away. Are you going to go away and not come back?”
“Well, yes. This is not a permanent situation!”
“Right,” Emily said dejected. “You want me to remember something big so we can get out of here—”
“Exactly!”
“So I can go live with my aunt and uncle in Cheyenne—”
“When did you hear that?”
“When you were on the phone this morning with your boss.”
“So, you were eavesdropping?”
“I go live with my aunt and uncle and then you can have a drink.”
Jane stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to Emily, rage boiling underneath her skin. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You keep looking at Daddy’s liquor cabinet—”
“So what!”
“I saw you open it up this morning—”
“Now you’re spying on me, too!”
“I smelled it on you the first day I saw you. You’re just like my Daddy.”
“Who in the hell do you think you are? Where do you get off judging me?”
“Mommy said she could smell Daddy across the room when he drank—”
“You think you’re so smart? Well, you’re not! You think you know people? Well, you don’t! You are way out of line! You hear me?”
“I just know—”
“You don’t know anything!” Jane screamed, her voice vibrating against the living room walls. “Get away from me!”
“Why?”
“Go upstairs!”
Emily got off the couch. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded.
“I don’t give a shit!” With that, Jane kicked over the coffee table, sending all of Emily’s art pictures scattering. “Go upstairs!”
Fear gripped Emily. “Please, don’t. You’re the only one who can—”
Jane cut her off. “Upstairs! You hear me?”
Emily skirted the periphery of the living room and scooted up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Jane’s pulse raced. She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a loud grunt of anger mixed with frustration. She plopped down onto the couch, sucking the last bit of life out of her cigarette. Jane briefly turned toward the liquor cabinet. Her head pounded in punishing syncopation. If she could sleep, maybe the pain would subside. Sleep. What a wonderful concept. To sleep with no dreams, no nightmares . . . if that were only possible. Jane felt herself slipping away as the couch embraced her body. Within less a minute, she was fast asleep.
Upstairs, Emily stood in her perfectly pink bedroom, not sure what to do. If she could only talk to Jane. Really talk to her. If there was a way to make her understand . . . She wished she had her Starlight Starbright projector to keep her company. She half-considered walking back downstairs to retrieve it but decided against the idea. To make do, she flicked off the ceiling light and turned on the tiny lamp next to her bed that sported the star cut outs across its shade. The splash of projected stars momentarily warmed her heart before she lost interest. Emily turned to her bedroom window. The occasional pitter-pat of rain could be heard against the glass. It sounded like the last sputtering of action before the storm moved toward the east. If the clouds were parting just right, there was a great possibility that the quarter moon could be seen shimmering against the night sky.
Emily crossed to the window and gingerly opened it. She strained her neck outside the window. Unfortunately, the large sycamore tree obscured her view. The air was sweet and slightly cool. She turned back to her closed bedroom door and considered