Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) (27 page)

“I don’t think we can ever be prepared. I can’t ever imagine a life without you, my parents, and your family. It slices my chest open thinking about it, so if it became a reality I could imagine it would be a million times worse. All we can do is start each day hoping it will be easier than the last. No guarantees you won’t have setbacks, days you don’t feel like getting out of bed. I can’t tell you what you will deal with, what stages you will go through, and some you may experience multiple times. We all heal in our own way, each unique in what we can handle. All I can tell you is you’re not alone. Ever.”

I pull his arms tighter, scoot back into him until no space remains. I cling, using his warmth, his love, and his strength to get me through. I feel his lips against my neck, his breath tickling my skin, and I drift, hoping when I wake up this is all a nightmare, or I have the fortitude to get through it.

He stayed with me for Spring Break, leaving at the last minute to make it back to school in time for his class. I’ve talked to my parents, grateful they let me deal with things how I needed to. My dad will handle the estate and everything else that has to be done. I’ve signed the paperwork, allowing him to invest the money for me. The bulk of her estate was left to me, and I don’t have a clue as to how to file the paperwork, set up accounts. We’re donating all her clothes to the church shelter. My mom assures me dad is ‘handling things.’

I’ve got a long passage in front of me, tackling one step at a time, and I know I’ll reach the end of the tunnel. One day. I’m in no rush, and it still feels like opening my eyes takes all my strength. I have family and Will to help me through it. I had finished my midterms when I got the call, so I just have to make it through the last months. I’m sure I’ll spend more time here than home this summer, the reverse of what I’d planned, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Summer is here, and I’m thankful I passed my courses. I wasn’t in the best frame of mind, but I managed to pull off a solid 3.4 GPA, making everyone happy. Will just left my apartment for camp; we opted to hide here for a week. I promised my parents I’d come home for a few days, and Will and I will spend a week or two with them. I’ve reminded them they are welcome to come see me.

I enrolled in the International Social Work course this summer, and it excites me. I’m hoping to lose myself in laws and case studies. Rejuvenate my passion.

“I’m home!” The house is spotless, smells of cleaner, and my parents both greet me looking refreshed. Time is healing our wounds.

“Hey, baby girl.” My dad’s voice is gruff. I notice some lines creasing his face that weren’t there months ago. Not haggard looking but definitely aged. Death takes its toll on the living, that’s for sure.

“Hi, Daddy.” I let him hold me as long as he wants. My mom joins in the action, and a piece of our hearts blends as one.

“How long are you home?” He’s trying to hide his eagerness.

“I’m going to stay a week, but I’ll be home when camp is over for four weeks, and I can finish my course here.”

I see his shoulders sag but my mom grabs his hand. She’s saving me and reassuring him. This is what I need . . . distance and time. “You could come see me, stay for a few weeks?” I suggest that compromise.

“That sounds good.” His smile bright and it makes my heart lighten.

I’ve almost completed my class, and it’s been tough. The rigorous paperwork, the different laws each country has. Some crazy and unjust. Will should be home in a few hours, and I need to finish this last assignment so I’m free the rest of summer. I’m reading the laws regarding same-sex couples adopting because international laws are tougher. I zoom in and reread the passage I just read. This can’t be right. “Mom!”

She rushes to me, short of breath. “What? You okay?”

I wave my hand at her. “I’m fine. Brett and James adopted Will from Honduras?” My nose crinkles, concentrating on this conundrum.

“Yes.” She reassures me I wasn’t losing my mind.

I click another link, going back years to see if laws were different. “That’s odd. It says here that same-sex couples can’t adopt in Honduras. They find it unconstitutional.” She is silent, so I look up to see if she’s left. Her face is ashen, her eyes dart to the window overlooking their house. She’s wringing her hands. “Mom?”

“Leave it be, Emma. Don’t open this can of worms.”

“Is he not from Honduras?”

“He is.”

“Wait.” I pause, letting her words sink in. “He is. But it’s illegal for James and Brett to adopt there. Did they kidnap him?” The fucking mess this will be.

“No.” Her voice quivers. “It’s not my story, and you need to drop it. A lot of people can be hurt.”

The door hitting the wall startles us both, and seeing Will storm across the yard to his house freezes me in my spot. I don’t know what I stumbled upon, but I know it isn’t good.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

William

I don’t know what conversation I just overheard, but I’m reeling. Looking at Phoebe’s face, hearing Emma’s questions . . . I’m fuming and don’t know the reason. I know where I can get answers, and I’m heading there.

“WILL!” I don’t want to stop, but I can’t resist her voice. She runs to me and is in front of me before I can process what’s happening. “I don’t know what you heard—”

“All of it. There is no way they adopted me legally from Honduras, so either I’m a black market baby, a kidnapping victim, or they’ve lied about where I came from.” Uttering those words, those conclusions I’ve formed scares the hell out of me. I search the tree line for some divine intervention, seeking answers that I don’t know the questions to. My body feels like it’s engulfed in flames, and as much as I want to confront this, I want to hop in my truck and flee.

“We don’t know anything yet.”

“Go back inside, Ems. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“I’ll go with you.” The thought of her hearing the torrid explanations waiting sends ice through my veins.

“No.” I’ve let her down too many times. I was getting to the place where I felt I deserved her, and it’s all crumbling in my front yard. I step past her and keep walking. This time, I ignore her shouts, pleas, and tears.

Slamming the door into the drywall announces my arrival. James has the phone to his ear, Brett is pacing, and I know from their looks they are rocked to the core. “I’m home,” I sneer.

The phone hits the floor, their asses hit the couch, and I stalk into the room. “Calm down, William. This isn’t something we thought would come up.”

“Which scenario is it? Did you kidnap me? Pay some poor woman to carry me and rip me from her, or am I from some other country, and you’ve lied my entire life.”

“No, none of those things happened. You were born in Honduras. We did adopt you . . .” Brett runs his hands through his hair, drops his chin to his chest and goes silent.

“That’s funny because I just heard that there was no way to adopt me from Honduras. Same-sex adoptions are banned.”

“That’s true, the system forbids it, but the system is also crooked. We paid off the government.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” I can’t believe this. I must have misunderstood the fact they bought me. “You bought me like a piece of meat?”

“Listen to us. We’ll tell you what you want to know.” James stands to approach me. I recoil from his touch and storm out. I can’t hear another word.

I find myself on the dock, searching for what, I’m not sure. I want to wake up, rewind time. This . . . this is something I don’t know how to accept, how to contemplate.

Sold.

Bought.

Paid for.

I was a commodity to them, not a person. Not a baby they wanted. I wasn’t sought out, I was discarded, easy to pawn off. Money was traded like a business deal.

“Will,” her voice soft, pulling my heart.

“Go Ems. I can’t talk now.”

“I know.”

“How fucking nice. Who else knows?” Too much anger is flowing inside me.

“My parents knew, that’s who told me. Your parents are upset, they didn’t want you to get hurt by the truth.”

“The truth shall set you free.”

“That’s not fair. Did you let them explain, or did you lose your temper?”

“Don’t stand here and lecture me, your world didn’t just implode. I let you grieve how you wanted, maybe you could give me the same courtesy.”

She steps back. “You don’t have to grieve. Your parents are at home, waiting to explain, they aren’t gone.”

“Yes, they are. The parents who instilled morals in me have none. They paid money for me. I’m no better than a cheap whore on the street.” She gasps, but I keep going. “You couldn’t have just kept your nose out of it. You pry and pry, righting wrongs, seeking the truth. You got it, are you proud? You’ve ruined everything.” I won’t look at her, but I hear her sniffling, and I feel like shit.

“I’m going to let some of this slide because you’re angry, and I’m the easiest target. But William Jacobs get your head out of your ass. Did you ask why they did it? Did you question how unjust the laws are? Discrimination because of who you love? There’s more to the story, and you need to hear it.” I ignore her.

My mom put me in that hellhole, my dads bought me, and I’m back to square one not knowing where or how I fit in this world, this place they brought me. “Are you going to talk to me?” I can picture her getting mad as hell.

“No.” I’m angrier. She can practice her therapy and speeches on others. “For someone who deals in black and white, how come this doesn’t come as a mark of immorality? Wrong? Shady as fuck?”

Now it’s her turn to be silent. Think about that, Emma Nichols. She’s always told me what I should do, who to defend; yet, she stands here defending an act that is illegal. I shake my head and walk past her, leaving her standing there for the second time in less than an hour. I’m becoming what I swore I’d never be to her . . . absent.

Instead of going home and talking to my parents, instead of getting in my truck and heading back to campus or a hotel until I cool off . . . I make a phone call that sling shots my life to hell.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Emma

I thought we were free from the losers that wreaked havoc for years; they were in our past. Seeing them pull up to his house after our biggest fight and watching him get in the truck with them makes me sick. I hurry to the door and try to stop the catastrophe this will end in. I intercept him as he is shutting the door.