Dad, does that sound like me?”
Paul Miller shrugged with frustration. His daughter had both hardened and softened during her marriage to Grant Whitecastle. She was more cynical these days, but she also lacked the spunkybackbone she’d had growing up. He missed the inner strength that used to glow from within her like a candle in a jack-o’-lantern.
“Hard to say, Emma. You used to be much more determined and focused than you are now. I know you’re hurting, honey, but it’s time to move on.”
“You trying to get rid of me, Dad?” Her tone was joking, but in her heart Emma was a bit scared.
“No, honey, far from it. You’re welcome to live with us as long as you like. You know that. We love having you here.” He paused and studied his daughter before speaking again. “But I think it would be healthier for you to get on with your life. You are far too young to be holed up here with us old folks. Travel. Buy a home. Find a career. As soon as a fair settlement is reached, sign the divorce papers and get on with your life. Kick Grant Whitecastle to the curb like he deserves and be done with him.”
“You sound like Tracy.”
“Tracy is a smart and charming woman. I’m very glad you two are spending time together again.”
Emma laughed lightly. “I’m not so sure Mother agrees with you. I think she’s afraid I’ll adopt Tracy’s bohemian ways.” It was true. Elizabeth loved Tracy Bass like a second daughter but didn’t understand why Tracy preferred vintage secondhand shops to Saks.
“And I think Tracy rubbing off on you a little wouldn’t hurt.” He smiled at her. “And that’s a doctor’s opinion.”
Emma and her father sat in silence, enjoying the evening. Archie brought over a tennis ball and dropped it at Paul’s feet. Paul picked it up and tossed it, and the dog scampered off in the direction of the throw. Archie brought it back, and Paul threw it again.After another throw, Paul decided it was time to tell his daughter about Ish Reynolds.
“Your ancestors did come from Julian, Emma.”
“So it’s true?”
He tossed the ball again for Archie. “Yes, your mother’s people were originally from Kansas but settled in Julian in the mid to late 1800s.”
“Is that what agitated Mother at dinner? That I found out?”
“Partly, yes.”
Paul Miller sat forward in his chair and studied his daughter, locking eyes with her. When Archie came back with the ball, Dr. Miller patted the animal and gently ordered the dog to lie down. Archie obeyed.
“How much do you remember about the time following Paulie’s death?”
Paulie was Paul, Jr., Emma’s older brother. He had been hit and killed by a car after dashing into the street to get a wayward ball. It was a tragic accident, both for their family and for the man whose car had struck Paulie. Emma had been nine years old when it happened. Paulie was eleven.
“I remember how difficult it was on Mother—on all of us, but especially Mother.” Emma swallowed. “Mother always blamed herself, didn’t she?”
“Yes. That’s nonsense, of course. Elizabeth was and is the best of mothers. It just happened so fast. No one could have prevented it except for Paulie. He was old enough to know not to run out into the street.”
Emma watched as a gray film covered her father’s face like plastic wrap. She knew her parents had never gotten over the death of their son, no matter how many years had passed.
“But what does Julian have to do with Paulie’s death?”
“About six or seven months after Paulie died, your mother got it in her head to try and contact him.”
“Contact him? You mean Mother went to a séance?”
Paul shifted in his chair. “Your mother went to many séances and spent a great deal of money, most of it on charlatans, trying to reach your brother. She was obsessed with it—needed to know how he was and to beg for his forgiveness—but nothing happened. Then, almost a year to the date of Paulie’s death, she went to
Paul Miller shrugged with frustration. His daughter had both hardened and softened during her marriage to Grant Whitecastle. She was more cynical these days, but she also lacked the spunkybackbone she’d had growing up. He missed the inner strength that used to glow from within her like a candle in a jack-o’-lantern.
“Hard to say, Emma. You used to be much more determined and focused than you are now. I know you’re hurting, honey, but it’s time to move on.”
“You trying to get rid of me, Dad?” Her tone was joking, but in her heart Emma was a bit scared.
“No, honey, far from it. You’re welcome to live with us as long as you like. You know that. We love having you here.” He paused and studied his daughter before speaking again. “But I think it would be healthier for you to get on with your life. You are far too young to be holed up here with us old folks. Travel. Buy a home. Find a career. As soon as a fair settlement is reached, sign the divorce papers and get on with your life. Kick Grant Whitecastle to the curb like he deserves and be done with him.”
“You sound like Tracy.”
“Tracy is a smart and charming woman. I’m very glad you two are spending time together again.”
Emma laughed lightly. “I’m not so sure Mother agrees with you. I think she’s afraid I’ll adopt Tracy’s bohemian ways.” It was true. Elizabeth loved Tracy Bass like a second daughter but didn’t understand why Tracy preferred vintage secondhand shops to Saks.
“And I think Tracy rubbing off on you a little wouldn’t hurt.” He smiled at her. “And that’s a doctor’s opinion.”
Emma and her father sat in silence, enjoying the evening. Archie brought over a tennis ball and dropped it at Paul’s feet. Paul picked it up and tossed it, and the dog scampered off in the direction of the throw. Archie brought it back, and Paul threw it again.After another throw, Paul decided it was time to tell his daughter about Ish Reynolds.
“Your ancestors did come from Julian, Emma.”
“So it’s true?”
He tossed the ball again for Archie. “Yes, your mother’s people were originally from Kansas but settled in Julian in the mid to late 1800s.”
“Is that what agitated Mother at dinner? That I found out?”
“Partly, yes.”
Paul Miller sat forward in his chair and studied his daughter, locking eyes with her. When Archie came back with the ball, Dr. Miller patted the animal and gently ordered the dog to lie down. Archie obeyed.
“How much do you remember about the time following Paulie’s death?”
Paulie was Paul, Jr., Emma’s older brother. He had been hit and killed by a car after dashing into the street to get a wayward ball. It was a tragic accident, both for their family and for the man whose car had struck Paulie. Emma had been nine years old when it happened. Paulie was eleven.
“I remember how difficult it was on Mother—on all of us, but especially Mother.” Emma swallowed. “Mother always blamed herself, didn’t she?”
“Yes. That’s nonsense, of course. Elizabeth was and is the best of mothers. It just happened so fast. No one could have prevented it except for Paulie. He was old enough to know not to run out into the street.”
Emma watched as a gray film covered her father’s face like plastic wrap. She knew her parents had never gotten over the death of their son, no matter how many years had passed.
“But what does Julian have to do with Paulie’s death?”
“About six or seven months after Paulie died, your mother got it in her head to try and contact him.”
“Contact him? You mean Mother went to a séance?”
Paul shifted in his chair. “Your mother went to many séances and spent a great deal of money, most of it on charlatans, trying to reach your brother. She was obsessed with it—needed to know how he was and to beg for his forgiveness—but nothing happened. Then, almost a year to the date of Paulie’s death, she went to
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