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Authors: Fern Michaels

Dear Emily (35 page)

BOOK: Dear Emily
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“You were gone a long time,” Martina said.

“Yes, but I’m back. Isn’t it funny how the one place in the world that will always welcome you is home. That one place we consider to be safe, that place that warms your heart. Shit, I wish I was a writer so I could express it better.”

“I think you did a pretty good job of it just now. You’re right. It’s that wonderful, warm house that welcomes you at the end of the day and greets you the first thing in the morning.”

In the basement they formed their usual circle and sat cross-legged. Fuzzy Navels in long-stemmed glasses were passed around by the Demster twins. “I think we should make our first toast to HOME. Our home,” Emily said.

“Hear, hear!” they chorused.

“To home!”

 

Emily woke slowly, and knew instantly that she was home in her own bed. She stretched luxuriously as she stared at the young rays of sun creeping into her room. A new day. Maybe this was the first day of her new life. No, that can’t be, she told herself. This wasn’t her new life and it wasn’t her old life either. It was simply life. Her life that she’d made better by caring and sharing.

The bedside clock, a gift from Matt on her birthday, said it was five forty-five. That meant she’d slept a total of one hour. She stretched again. Damn, she felt good. Rested, raring to go. Where? To Ben’s house, of course.

That’s it, Emily, finish up one affair and go on to good old Ben. Tacky. You don’t deserve Ben. She kicked off her slippers and slid back into bed. With the pillows propped up behind her, and a cigarette that was making her cough, she tried to bring her thoughts to some kind of order. Yes, she was back. Yes, she and her friends were together and they weren’t blaming her for her long vacation. They understood about Matt. None of them had chastised her for her fling. “As long as it helped you get your shit together,” Nancy said. She crushed out the cigarette. She hated smoking in her bedroom; and only did it when she was confronting a stressful situation.

What is it I’m looking for? How am I supposed to know “it” when and if I do find it? This was probably one of those times when she should be making a list. And then she thought about the list Ian had made of the things she wanted. Be careful, Emily, you just might get what you wish for. Better to think and not commit to paper. Go to Ben, talk to him, explain your feelings.
Settle your goddamn life already! It’s time.

At seven-thirty, Emily was barreling down Watchung Avenue on her way to Ben’s house. She stopped for Dunkin Donuts and two cups of their own special coffee at the shop on Park Avenue. Fifteen minutes later she was ringing Ben’s doorbell. When there was no response after three long peals, she used her key, opened the door, and called Ben’s name. A quick trip to the kitchen and upstairs convinced her Ben wasn’t in the house. Where could he be so early on a Sunday morning? He liked to sleep in on the weekends. She looked around the tidy rooms and felt as though she was trespassing. She let herself out, locked the door, and sat down on the stoop, where she drank both cups of coffee and ate three donuts. She was finishing her third cigarette when Ben swerved into his parking space, tooted the horn, and waved. She didn’t move. He looked great in his sweats. For one, wild moment she felt as though her heart had turned over in her chest.

“Been waiting long?” he asked coolly.

“Not that long.” Why wasn’t he swooping her into his arms? Why wasn’t he saying something like, God, Emily, I thought you were never coming back? Maybe she was supposed to do the talking and moving. She felt like it. Wanted to do it.
Then goddamn it, do it!

“Looks like you drank my coffee. Did you at least save me one of those donuts? Come on, I’ll make some fresh. I was up at the crack of dawn to get Ted ready. I waited with him till his flight was called.”

“Did you have a nice visit? Of course you did; I don’t even know why I said that. I want to say so many things, Ben, I don’t know where to start. I want…expected you to…swoop me up and kiss me till I cried for mercy. Right now I feel kind of lost. I don’t know why that is. I couldn’t wait to see you. Look at me, Ben, that damn coffee can wait. We need to…to…talk.”

Ben settled the basket of coffee grounds firmly in the pot, turned it on, and then faced Emily. “I’m listening.”

“We, Ben. Not just me. Us.”

“Wrong. I did all my talking. You know how I feel, what I want. You talk.”

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Emily said miserably.

“No, I’m not.”

“I wanted…expected…bells and whistles. I wanted my blood to sing. I thought if I imagined those things, I would know I was in love. Maybe that only happens in novels and movies. Damn it, I wanted that. My life, my marriage, it was so screwed up…what did I know? Out in the woods I had a lot of time to think. The funny thing is, I didn’t realize I was thinking until…well, until I made charts, lists, memorized inspirational sayings that I thought I could apply to my life. And…I came to the conclusion that…well, what I…I did was…I put you…our relationship right up there with home. Safe, happy, warm. You know, when things aren’t going well, and you go home and sort of snuggle in…I know I’m not explaining this right. Don’t say anything, Ben. I have to get this out in my own way. That house on Sleepy Hollow Road was, and still is, my sanctuary. That’s how I feel about you. It must be love, Ben, because if you…if you moved or left me, I’d be…devastated. Just the way I’d feel if I lost the house on Sleepy Hollow Road. Now, if you put that together, it tells me I’m in love with you. I never said that to you before because I wasn’t sure…I’m about as sure now as I can be. I don’t want to get married right away. That piece of paper scares me. I don’t really want to live in sin either. Those nuns got to me. They drink and smoke—did I tell you that? And they play five-card stud on Sunday afternoons. Sunday yet! Now, you can say something.”

“Wait here,” Ben said, a strange look on his face.

Emily waited. She thought about her little speech, wondered if her heart would ever beat normally again, before Ben returned fifteen minutes later.

“Close your eyes,” he called from the hallway. Emily obediently closed her eyes.

“Okay, now you can open them.”

His voice sounds funny, Emily thought as she opened her eyes. Clamped between his teeth was a silver whistle. In both hands he held Christmas bells. “Do you hear them now?” he said around the whistle in his mouth. The bells rang and the whistle shrilled.

Emily whooped with laughter. “Only you, Ben. I swear, this makes it all right. Thank you, thank you so much. C’mere,” she said, crooking her index finger. “I want you to make love to me right here on the kitchen floor.”

“Lady, I thought you’d never ask. Can I stop with the bells and whistles now?”

“The way I look at it, you can’t kiss me with that whistle in your mouth, and I have other plans for those hands of yours.”

The whistle landed in the sink and the two bells sailed across the room. “Emily, I’m all yours. For now and forever.”

“Shhhh,
you talk too much. You made it possible for me to love again, Ben, so let’s do what we do best.”

It was midafternoon before Emily and Ben were willing to untangle themselves from the bedclothes. “You are a man of endurance, Mr. Jackson,” Emily said contentedly.

“And you, Miz Thorn, fueled and stoked that endurance. I love you, Emily, so much it hurts me sometimes.”

“So that’s what all those twinges are. I thought it was the aging process.” How wonderful it felt to be here with this man who understood and loved her the way she needed to be loved. “I love you, Ben. I guess I always loved you. I was afraid to say the words. Afraid if I said them aloud it would…be like before. I didn’t want that. This is what I want. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize…to come to you and be honest.”

“All good things come to those who wait. I told you I’d wait forever. I meant it. Look at us now, you crazy kid.”

“Ben, let’s go home. I want to tell my friends. I want to…I have so many ideas and I want you all there to hear them because each of you has a voice in our future.”

“Okay. But I have an even better idea. Let’s take a shower together first.”

“You devil,” Emily squealed as she beelined for the bathroom.

 

“What
is
this?” Emily demanded as she pushed her chair away from the table. “It tastes like one of Sister Tiny’s secret surprises.”

“It’s a bunch of cookie crumbs with pudding and brandy for zip. Tell us! Don’t play dumb either. All of us watched you two walk up the driveway and we all decided that, in the whole of our lives, we’ve never seen such sappy expressions. We’re calling it love. Are we right?”

Emily flushed and nodded. Ben displayed a silly grin.

“Toast! Toast! All we have left is, Bud Ice.”

“Sounds good to me.” Ben’s silly smile grew wider.

Emily stood, her beer bottle held high. “This is a special toast. Listen up. To bells and whistles. Who needs them? Okay, now down to business.”

They talked intensely for two hours. “Then we’re in agreement. We’re going to sell our shares in Emily’s Fitness Centers and move on. The lawyers will handle everything. Our pensions are intact; we all have excellent health insurance. We have enough money in the bank to last all of us the rest of our lives, and the money we set aside for Ben’s son’s college will grow so that, when he’s ready to go off to college, he’ll be able to go on for his MBA or Ph.D. if he wants to. The choice will be his. So, I say we start to do some good deeds. With Ian’s money. He had this house…a monster house, lots of grounds, quite a few acres. I suggest, and you all have a voice in this, but I suggest we turn that house and grounds into some kind of women’s shelter so that women who are in the same situation we were in won’t have to live with the fear we lived with. It will mean we’ll be pretty much going back to the basics, but I think we can do it. Yes, there’s a lot of money, but it won’t last forever, so we’ll have to make our endeavor a working endeavor. There won’t be a time limit as to how long they can stay either. Maybe we could buy an extra piece of property, raise chickens, sell eggs, plant gardens, and peddle the fruits of our labors. We could even board dogs and do grooming. Whatever we have to do, we can do. We proved that some time ago. That’s it,” Emily said.

“Vote!” the Demster twins shouted.

“The ayes have it!” Ben said. “Listen, this wouldn’t have anything to do with Ted living in California with his mother, would it?”

“It has everything to do with it. I suggest we make another toast. I’ll get the beer,” Emily said. Her head was half in the refrigerator, the cold air swirling about her.
Atta girl, Emily. I couldn’t have done it better myself. He’s the one for you. Good-by, dear Emily.

“Hey, what’s holding up the works?” Ben shouted.

Emily turned, a smile on her face. She set the beer on the table before she wrapped her arms around Ben’s shoulders from behind. “I just want you all to know I love this guy. And…and I have it on good authority that he’s the one for me.” The silly smile was back on Ben’s face, but Emily couldn’t see it.

The girls whistled and hooted. Emily sat on Ben’s lap and nuzzled close. She was happier than she’d ever been in her life and all because Ben had taught her how to love again. She felt herself being pulled closer, heard the whispered words, “I love you, Emily Thorn.”

“Not as much as I love you, Ben Jackson.”

“Wanna bet?”

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 1995 by Fern Michaels

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

Zebra Books and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-1-4201-1828-5

BOOK: Dear Emily
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