Emerald

  But that wouldn’t happen with me . . . not like it did with her. I’m sure of it. We’re close, but we’re very different. She was always the take-charge older one. It doesn’t matter that she was born only a week before I was; it’s always felt more like years. Whenever there’s a problem, she steps forward and fixes it. I’m more the look-the-other-way type when things get hairy, and Rose is always too busy to bother with other people’s problems; she’s more into animals than humans. I think the farm might have been too tame for Amber . . . not enough conflict to keep life interesting or something.

  Unlike her, I don’t relish conflict, and I definitely don’t enjoy butting heads with people. Not that she loves those things, but she doesn’t shy away from them either. Whenever things in my life get ugly or even just uncomfortable, I prefer to disappear into my painting studio. Even if I’m not in the mood to create anything, I can always rearrange my tubes of acrylic colors, clean out the dust, build canvases, or make frames that might someday hold new pieces. I don’t always need to be creating to feel satisfied; sometimes just being in that environment soothes my soul.

  I leave the porch and my melancholy thoughts behind as I enter the house, walking into the kitchen and placing the basket of eggs on the counter. There’s a recipe book resting open on a wooden stand a guest made years ago from wood on the property, which means Sally will be mixing up something delicious today. I leave the eggs out so she’ll know that they’re here for her. She can be a little scatterbrained sometimes and forget that we put them in the cupboard these days to keep them safe from the stray kitties that sometimes wander in and think eggs are fun toys to knock off the counter.

  “Is that you, Emerald?” Sally’s voice sails from the living room into the kitchen.

  Speak of the devil. “Yes!” I say, turning to shout through the doorway. “I have some fresh eggs for you. I’m leaving them on the counter.”

  Her voice is closer now, coming from the front room. “Thank you. I was thinking about making some cream puffs.”

  “Yummy.” I love Sally’s cream puffs. She and her daughter, Rose, have one thing in common: they’re both healers of a sort. Rose heals animals with medical care, and Sally heals sad feelings with delicious baked goods. Amber’s mother, Barbara, is a pretty good cook too, but I’m a huge fan of Sally’s stuff especially. I search for the cream puff recipe in her book and leave the page open to it. I don’t want her forgetting what she just promised.

  She walks into the kitchen, her salt-and-pepper hair not caught up in braids for a change, creating a fuzzy frame for her face. It always strikes me how different Sally looks compared to her daughter Rose. Sally has frizzy gray hair that used to be brown, and Rose’s hair is blond and straight. It makes me wonder if Rose takes after her father, if he has blond hair too. I immediately push that thought out of my head. I don’t want to think about those men right now. I’m already feeling emotional enough as it is.

  I walk over and give her a hug. “Good morning, Momma Sally.”

  “Good morning, my darling.” She holds my face between her hands. “Look at those pink cheeks. Are you cold?”

  I shake my head, sliding my shawl off my shoulders. It’s warmer here in the kitchen with the wood stove going. “No, I’m okay.”

  She frowns. “You look sad. Is there something wrong?”

  I back away from her touch. I don’t like the idea that she can see into my head and read my thoughts about Amber being gone. “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  “Your sister called while you were out,” Sally says.

  “Amber?” Even though Rose lives here and it’s still morning, wondering which sister called is justified; Rose is at her clinic up the street more often than she’s home. She slept there last night to keep an eye on a critically injured owl.

  “Yes. She has some exciting news, but she didn’t want to share it until we were all together. I called Rose already, so she’s on her way.”

  Dread fills my heart. “What’s going on? Is it good news or bad?”

  “Amber sure seems to think it’s good.”

  That doesn’t reassure me. These days, my sister’s idea of good news doesn’t always jibe with mine.

  The front door creaks open and a female voice calls out from the foyer, “Is anybody home?” The door slams shut.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” I say loudly so Rose will hear me.

  She walks into the room and stops, her hands on her hips. “Where’s the emergency? I got here as quickly as I could.”

  I roll my eyes, pointing at Sally behind her back. “Apparently, Amber has news.”

  “Since when is that an emergency?” Rose drops her alert stance and comes over to give me a quick hug. We’re big on hugs in our family.

  Sally is busy pulling a mixing bowl and saucepan out of the cupboard. “I just said it was really important; I didn’t say it was an emergency.”

  “Please, Mom, you acted like the house was on fire.”

  Sally shrugs, smiling through her hair explosion. “What can I say? She sounded excited.”

  The telephone on the wall rings, interrupting the conversation. I stare at it, mistrust filling my heart. I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t help it. So many changes have happened in Amber’s life, and it feels like her personal evolution is spilling over into our house. I don’t like change. I want things to stay the same as they’ve always been: three moms, three daughters, lots of love and laughter, and no one here to break us up into little pieces.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rose walks over and grabs the handset off the wall. “Hello, Glenhollow Farms.” There’s a pause as she takes in the caller’s response and smiles. “Hey, Amber. What’s going on? I hear you have some big news.” After listening for a few seconds, Rose looks at me. “She says she wants to tell us all at the same time. Go get the other moms.”

  I leave the kitchen without a word, walking over to the staircase and resting my hand on the wooden rail as I shout: “Barbara! . . . Carol! We have an important phone call downstairs! It’s Amber!” My heart rate picks up as I try to imagine what my sister is going to say. Is she getting married? Pregnant? Leaving the country and never coming back? Knowing her, it could be anything.

  Floorboards creak above my head as the women move to respond to my summons. I go back to the kitchen without them, my feet dragging. I have a really bad feeling about this.

  Soon enough, we’re all together standing by the phone. It’s the old-fashioned kind, with a long spiral cord and a rotary dial. We try to fit our five heads over the earpiece so we can hear at the same time, but fail miserably—Sally’s hair tickles my nose so much it makes me sneeze. I back away, giving the rest of them room. Listening to Amber’s news firsthand isn’t going to change anything.

  Amber’s voice comes out sounding tiny. “Can you guys hear me? I’m yelling so you can all hear me!”

  “Yes, we can hear you,” Carol says, also shouting.

  “What’s going on, baby?” Barbara asks. “You’ve got us on pins and needles over here.” She’s grinning broadly, the pride she has in her daughter shining out from her every pore.

  “I have really big news,” Amber says. “You guys are going to totally pee your pants.”

  I shake my head, my face going warm. This is not good. I don’t want to pee my pants over anything she might say. It’s going to involve the band. The men. The ones she shouldn’t even be talking to. We had an agreement.

  “Don’t keep us waiting; tell us,” Rose says.

  I search Rose’s face. She doesn’t sound any more excited about this than I am, which makes me feel like I’m not totally alone. A trickle of relief comes in. It’s good to know that not everything has to change.

  “Okay, the big news is that the band is going to Japan for two weeks, and they want our moms to go with them!”

  I’m not sure I heard her correctly. Japan? “What?” I’m asking anyone who will answer, but everyone is too stunned to respond.

  All of a
sudden, Barbara stiffens, her eyes opening wide. She speaks in whispered tones. “We’re going to Japan. With the band.”

  I hear Amber’s voice off in the distance, but my ears are ringing, making it impossible to understand what she’s saying.

  “You guys are going with the band to Japan?” Rose asks. She presses her ear closer to the phone, effectively blocking our moms out. “Are you serious? Red Hot wants to take them along?”

  I don’t hear the rest of it. I don’t want to. I move over to Sally’s recipe book and start pulling ingredients out that she’s going to need. My stomach feels like it’s rolling and flipping around inside my abdomen, making me nauseated. Our mothers are being dragged into this fantasy too. First Amber has left, and now they will too. Will Rose go next? Will I be left here all alone?

  I look over my shoulder. Our mothers are going crazy, giggling and crying, hooting and hollering. They don’t seem to care that the invitation is coming from Amber and not the actual band members. If it were me, I’d insist on a little more respect than that. But my mothers are not me. Twenty-five years ago they left these men behind for good reason, yet now they want to go running back. I just don’t understand it at all.

  I turn away so no one will see my tears. I pull out the flour and then the sugar, placing them on the counter.

  “That’s really exciting, Amber. I don’t know if you’re the one who put this together, but thanks. The moms are super thrilled.” Rose sounds grateful, her tone matching her words.

  I hold on to the edge of the counter, a wave of dizziness hitting me. Rose doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that these men are snapping their fingers and our mothers are running back like puppies craving attention. She’s happy. She’s okay with this. I want to scream with frustration, but I don’t.

  Of course I don’t, because I know I’m letting my emotions get away from me again. I’m out of line. What the heck is wrong with me? Obviously, I need to get a grip on myself. It’s just a two-week trip to Japan. It’s not like my moms are selling the farm and leaving me forever. And besides . . . they’re well into their forties; they should be able to make decisions about how they’re going to live their lives without any fear of me judging them.

  I take out the salt and place it on the counter next to the flour. A few deep breaths help take the edge off my runaway emotions. I make a mental note to go out into the trees later, to our meditation area, so I can re-center myself. I hate feeling so off-kilter, but even more so, I hate that it’s those men again who are causing me to feel this way. They don’t deserve to have that kind of power over me. I don’t care what anyone says . . . they are not my fathers.

  “When do we leave? What should we pack?” This is Carol who asks these questions—my mom, ever the practical one of the group. She’s always been the take-charge type, and anyone who meets our family of women always assumes she’s Amber’s mom because they’re so alike. But nope . . . she gave birth to me—the girl who’d rather run into the woods than deal with conflict face-to-face.

  “Less than a week. Here . . . you take the phone and talk to her yourselves.” I hear footsteps, and then Rose is next to me, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I nod vigorously, trying to convince myself as much as her. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I don’t need my anxiety to upset Rose. She has enough on her plate with all the sick animals in her clinic.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she says. She’s another woman in this house who’s way too adept at reading my thoughts.

  I try to smile away her worry. “Of course not. But if you want to go, you can.” I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”

  She looks at me funny. “I have no desire to be anywhere but here. And we can talk about this more later if you want, but I really need to skedaddle back to the clinic. Duty calls.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll take care of their chores while they’re away; it’s no big deal. We have a couple of our regular, seasonal guests coming soon; they can help out with the laundry and household stuff that the moms usually do.”

  Rose leans in to give me a hug. I force myself not to cling to her in response. Instead, I withdraw to pull a wooden spoon from the drawer. Sally will need it to make those cream puffs.

  “It’s only temporary,” Rose says. “They’ll be back in no time.”

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.” I focus on the recipe book in front of me, squinting my eyes to read the tiny print, hoping I’m being convincing at not caring.

  Rose leaves my side and walks back over to the mothers, who are signing off the call. As soon as the phone is back on the cradle, I force myself to turn around and smile. I don’t want to be a downer. This is a really exciting moment for them, something they’ve been dreaming about for over twenty years, probably. I know they’ve been feeling very sad and mixed up with all the things Amber’s been telling them about the band, and this is their chance to get it straightened out and have all of their questions answered. They didn’t get a chance to see the men when they were in New York helping Amber move in with Ty, but I know they wanted to really badly. And when the band was here for a short visit in the summer, none of them had the guts to get into any deep conversations about the choices they made way back when. They deserve this time together, and I’m not going to stand in the way of it.

  They’re holding hands, gibbering on and on about what they’re going to pack, who they’re going to hug first, and how they’ll finally be backstage again. And then they start moving en masse through the door without a backward glance.

  “What about the cream puffs?” I call out at Sally’s back.

  Her hand goes up above her head to wave as she disappears from view. “Sorry! No time for cream puffs. Gotta go to Japan!” They all shriek with laughter, the sound fading as they gain distance. Rose leaves behind them, on her way back to the clinic.

  I turn around and start putting the necessary cream puff ingredients into the bowl, crying as I realize there’s really no point in going through these motions when I’m going to be the only one left here to eat the damn things.

  The phone rings again, and I turn to glare at it. Amber must have forgotten to give them some details about their trip. I wish I could ignore it and let the call go, but I can’t; it’s my sister, and I’d never abandon her.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey there, Grumpy.” Amber’s tone makes her sound as excited as our mothers.

  “I’m not grumpy. Just . . . tired.” Even though I had a solid eight hours of sleep.

  “I wanted to talk to you too, but they hung up the phone.”

  “They’re a little excited.”

  “I should think so. Can you believe it? I’m finally getting them back together. It’s going to be amazing.”

  I don’t want to lie by agreeing or burst her bubble by telling the truth, so I say nothing.

  “Anyway, listen . . . I need your help.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll cover everything while they’re gone.”

  “No, not that. Something else. I need you to come here.”

  “What?” She’s not making sense. She wants to shut the farm down completely? She must be insane. “Come there? Why?”

  She laughs. “To visit me. Duh.”

  “Oh.” I imagine myself getting on a plane and flying into JFK like she did three months ago, and goose bumps jump out all over my skin. “I can’t, really. It’s going to be way too busy here without them.”

  “Rose can help out and so can Harold. I know he’s there.”

  I chew my lip. “But there’s the hives and . . .”

  “Oh, please . . . Don’t act like you’re doing anything with my hives, you big fat liar. You’d let the honey overflow and the colonies swarm before you went anywhere near them. I get weekly reports from Smitty on the bees, so don’t even try it.”

  I sigh. “We have animals, you know. Lots of them. Who’s going to take care of them?”

  “Harold and friends. I know for a fact there are at least
four tents pitched out there right now. Our visitors love helping with the animals. And besides, it’s not rocket science; you feed ’em, water ’em, and call the vet if there are any injuries. Done.”

  I glance out the window and scowl at all eight tents just beyond the window. “Why now?” I ask, trying not to be offended by her casual dismissal of my contribution to our farm’s operations. “Why don’t I wait until they get back from Japan?” If I can stall, it’ll give me enough time to come up with a better excuse. I should have known the bee thing wouldn’t work.

  “Because, while the band is gone, this is the one short period of time where I don’t have any work to do.” She switches to her pitiful voice. “I’m all alone in the middle of New York City with no one to share it with.”

  “Why don’t you come here, then?”

  “Because! I still have to keep up with things. And I have to be here in case there are any emergencies. Shit happens all the time, without warning, and I’m the one who has to straighten it out. I can’t do that long-distance. Besides, don’t you want to see my new life? See my new apartment? It’s huge, and I’m going to be all alone up here.” She sounds pitiful.

  I’m surprised by this; to hear her talk, you’d think she has a hundred new friends by now. “Why not Rose?”

  “Because I know very well she has at least ten sick animals that need her there at the clinic or they’ll die.”

  She has a point. No one will die if I’m not here. And it’s not that I want anyone or anything depending on me for their lives, but it makes me feel very . . . expendable.

  “I don’t know . . .” The idea of going to that city literally makes me sick . . . sicker than I was already feeling over the Japan news.

  “Pleeeease? Pretty please? I’m so lonely. I miss you. I miss us.”

  Her words grab me by the heart and squeeze. I can’t breathe for a few seconds. To imagine that she could be missing me as much as I’m missing her is too much to ignore. “Fine,” I say, sighing loud and long. “When?”