Healing the Wounds by M.Q. Barber

Concussive blast, a woman standing too close to a building demolition shoved back by the force.
    Alice studied Emma differently from the way she had all night. Not considering what Henry might see in Emma or want from her. Not considering how Alice herself might measure up beside her. What did Emma see when she looked at Henry?
    “You have—” Emma cleared her throat. “Henry, may we speak in private?”
    Jay curled tighter, rustling Henry’s pants and clutching his knee.
    “I’m afraid not, Em.” Henry rested his hand on Jay’s neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth. “Not tonight.”
    Alice stared, beyond caring about the rudeness. She needed data. If she hadn’t been staring, she’d have missed the tightening around Emma’s mouth. The tension in her calf as she flexed her leg. Emma had acted pleased for them earlier, for their little family or Henry’s happiness. Her friendship with Henry had begun when Alice and Jay were in elementary school. And now Henry had placed himself in their corner.
    “No intention at all?”
    Emma’s requests wouldn’t budge him.
    Voicing her sympathy wouldn’t help. Apologizing for having Henry’s support when Emma feared losing it smacked of gloating.
    “Not even if they asked? If they needed it?” Emma gestured toward Alice and Jay, but her eyes stayed with Henry. “Do you recall what we discussed last summer, the irreparable harm—”
    “Emma.” His voice a low command, Henry tightened his arm around Alice’s shoulder.
    She barely dared breathe. This near stranger might know things about her. Private things.
    “We spoke in confidence.”
    “But your concerns were unfounded, weren’t they?” Emma’s voice rose in volume and speed. Their eyes met, Emma’s tight and pinched and ringed by deep lines beneath drawn brows. Emma flipped her gaze to Henry, her fingers tapping the chair arm. “Here she sits, accepting your discipline and your love—”
    “Emma.”
    Emma’s gaze dropped to her feet.
    Alice almost expected her to fall into a waiting pose. She felt the impulse herself. Hell, Jay had startled as if that tone had carried instructions for him.
    “Your behavior tonight—” Henry shook his head. “Victor would have taken—”
    A high, thin note pierced Emma’s clamped lips and cut off in an instant.
    Henry’s struggle, his leashed anger, spilled into Alice’s skin. He turned his face into her hair and breathed out, hard.
    Across from them, Emma curled bloodless hands in her lap.
    Henry left a ghost of a kiss against Alice’s head.
    “Emma.” Henry softened his voice. “ Sverchok . Even were I to renounce my membership at the club, our friendship would not end.” He took another deep breath.
    Alice attempted to identify what he’d said. A command? An apology? A nickname? Her lack of knowledge itched at her.
    “But we’ve finished with the subject for tonight. I won’t hear more about it. Not one word.”
    Without looking up, Emma nodded once. “Not a word, Henry. Of course.”
    “Good. We’ve kept you overlong in any case. Jay.” Henry patted his back, encouraging him to rise. “Retrieve Emma’s coat, please. It’s late, and she ought to be getting home soon.”
    Jay rolled off the couch and onto his feet, trotting to the armoire that served as a coat closet. If he moved fast, well, Jay did everything fast unless Henry specified slow. But his hope for some alone time manifested in every bouncing step.
    Emma, in her stillness, rode the inverse line. Head bowed, she wore the blank face she’d had accepting Henry’s judgment at the table. If not for her slow blink, she’d have been a store-window mannequin.
    Alice scrutinized Emma for a shift from potential energy to kinetic. A sign of irritation. Of frustration or resentment at being silenced. But it didn’t come. Maybe Emma didn’t feel she’d been treated like a child. Or was accustomed to it. Or had the good sense to recall she was a guest in Henry’s home. Or maybe Alice