said a not-so-nice word that made Emily snort with surprised laughter.
“I called him that several times, too, over the last year. And I’ll admit, I waited, thinking he’d come to his senses, that it was just a sort of crisis he’d get out of his system and we could put it all back together. But when he didn’t, and the bills were piling up and the bank account dwindling, I filed for divorce and support.”
“Sometimes life throws you one hell of a monkey wrench and all you can do is deal. Put one foot in front of the other,” Luke replied.
Emily looked over at him, but his face was shadowed in the dark. Was that the voice of experience? His mother had passed away years ago. That must have been difficult. There was so much she didn’t know about Luke Evans. On one hand she wanted to know more, to find some sort of solidarity with someone. On the other she knew she’d be better off to leave well enough alone, so she kept the questions on her tongue unsaid.
They turned and started walking back towards the house. An owl called from a nearby line of trees and Emily jumped at the sound, chafing her arms with her hands.
“You’re cold.”
“No, it’s good,” she replied. “I needed this. I needed to get away. So did Sam. That’s the real reason we left Calgary. Everything there was a reminder to Sam of our old life. He couldn’t move past just wanting it back—how could he? He’s not quite five. He doesn’t understand. I don’t understand. Sam just wanted Daddy to come home. He wanted family vacations and a huge pile of presents under the Christmas tree. I couldn’t provide all of that on my own. Lord knows I did my best.”
Emily shoved her hands into her pockets. “I’m not lazy, Luke. I applied for jobs for months. Anything I found was minimum wage or shift work or both. On minimum wage I can’t afford babysitting. And shift work is horrible for finding good child care.” She pursed her lips. “But this job is the best of both worlds. I get to do something I’m good at and be with my son. I’ve sold the Calgary house and I’m going to start over.” She smiled, but it didn’t chase away the cold. “I hope. I suppose if it doesn’t work, there’s always my parents. But no one wants to move back in with Mom and Dad, do they?”
Luke halted in the middle of the driveway. He looked up at the house, then up at the sky, and finally blew out a breath. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “It might not be so bad,” he said quietly as the owl hooted. He turned to her and she felt her chest constrict beneath his gaze.
“But I don’t think you’ll need to worry. You strike me as the kind that always lands on her feet, Emily.”
Luke studied her face as she smiled up at him. There was no denying that Emily was beautiful. But there was more. There was a quiet resolve to her that was equally attractive. She was a hard worker—he could tell that in the sheer volume of tasks she’d accomplished today. Even as her world spun out of control, she seemed in charge of it. Grounded. Calm in the middle of a storm. Sam thought the sun rose and set in her, because she put him first. He remembered the way she’d smoothed Sam’s hair today, or had firmly made him mind his manners during dinner. Her kid was damned lucky.
“I hope you’re not saying that just to be nice. I don’t want pity, you know.”
“Would I say anything for the sole purpose of being nice?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Good point.” Her eyes sparkled up at him and he felt an unusual knot in his gut as her tongue wet her lips.
It was only a partial lie. He did feel sorry for her. Sorry that she’d been hurt and sorry she was having to deal with things alone. He knew all too well how that felt. To know that everything rests on your shoulders. To know that any decision you make affects others forever. He’d wished for a helping hand so many times when he was younger, first when his mom had died and then when his dad fell sick with Alzheimer’s. He knew what it was to bear the weight of a family on his shoulders. In the past two days he’d questioned his sanity in letting Emily and Sam stay, but now that he knew a little more about their situation, he was glad.
And he was smart enough to know that if he told her such a thing she’d be furious. He was on good terms with their friend, Pride.
Meanwhile his body was tense just from being near her. He only wanted to help. Why then did just the soft scent of her, the sound of her voice, make his body tighten?
“If we keep on as we’ve started, I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said, thinking it sounded incredibly hokey, but he had to say something. She was a mother, for God’s sake. A mother with a ton of baggage she was carrying around. The fleeting impulse to kiss her was beyond crazy. That was definitely a complication he didn’t need.
“I think so, too,” she agreed.
They drew nearer the house, the walk coming to an end and with it their confidences in the dark. “Thank you for telling me about your situation,” he said. He looked up and thought he saw movement at the curtain of Sam’s room, but in the dark he couldn’t be sure. Was the boy watching them? Now that he knew more about it, he could understand Sam being mixed up and protective of his mother. Not that it excused bad behavior. There’d be no more sneaking out after bedtime.
“It was only fair. I’m a stranger, right? You agreed to this arrangement without knowing anything about me. You don’t need me to bring trouble to your door. No fear of that, anyway,” she said softly. “Rob doesn’t care enough to come after us.”
She tried to make it sound as though she didn’t care, but he knew she did. He wondered what kind of man didn’t love his kid enough to keep in touch, to know where they were? Luke didn’t want the added responsibility of children, but if he had them, he’d do a damn sight better job of parenting than that.
He wasn’t sure how a man could let his wife go either. Especially one like Emily.
“I’m sorry,” he offered, and meant it.
“Me, too.” She sighed in the moonlight. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your story,” she suggested.
“Not likely,” he replied quickly. “Not much to tell.”
She laughed, and it seemed to lighten the evening. “Now why don’t I believe that? You’re pretty close-mouthed when it comes to your own saga.” She grinned, looking impish in the moonlight. “But you have been kind and generous, letting us both stay.”
“No one’s ever accused me of being either,” he replied, their steps slowing, scuffing along in the dirt of the driveway. “Most would say I’m practical.” He’d had to be, getting the girls the rest of the way to adulthood and making sure the farm could support them all. There hadn’t been time for what most twenty-year-olds had been doing—working hard, but playing harder. It made him think of the old Bible verses from Sunday school, about leaving childish things behind.
“Do you ever wish you’d finished your degree, Emily?”
She looked up at him, putting one hand on the wood railing of the steps. “When the money was dwindling, I confess I did. But sometimes you exchange old dreams for new ones. After five years, this is what I do best. I love being home with Sam. I loved looking after my house and cooking and doing all the special things I couldn’t do if I’d been working all day. I was very fortunate, you know?”
“And do you ever think of going back?”
