“Wait,” John said. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you know?” His words were sharp and commanding, and John felt both seen and rebuked all at once. “Emmanuel.”
* * *
Gemma
“The car is here.” Gemma knocked on Imani’s door, listening. It was a Friday night and she half expected her to have plans, but she’d been in her room since she came home from volleyball practice. At which time she declared, “I can’t wait for basketball season.”
“Imani?” Gemma knocked again.
A loud bump-bang was followed by a slam. “Hey,” Imani said, leaning against the doorframe, one hand on her hip, her shirt twisted at her shoulders. Seeing behind her, Gemma noticed a rumpled comforter and the old window shade slightly off-center.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” The teen added a nod and an awkward shift from one foot to the other. “Watching volleyball videos. Coach sent some plays we’re going to run. Also, talking to Penny about basketball season. I don’t think I’ll play volleyball next year.”
Gemma leaned to see farther into the room. Imani’s phone lay facedown on her bed.
“I’m going to ask point-blank,” Gemma said. “Was Justin in here?”
“What? No. Gemma, give me some credit.” Her tone dripped with the defensiveness of a sixteen-year-old. A sound Gemma had perfected.
“Remember we have a deal.”
“I know, I know. Deal.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and as much as Gemma wanted to challenge her, she remembered how it felt not to be trusted. Of course, she’d deserved not to be trusted.
“I guess this isn’t a warm goodbye.” Gemma drew Imani into a hug. “Sorry for my suspicions. I’ve got to go. Scottie’s here.”
Imani’s eyes welled up and spilled over. “H-have fun.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gemma drew her into a hug. “Is it school? Justin?”
“Y-you.”
“Me?” Gemma pulled back to see her charge, her ward, her pseudo-daughter. “What’d I do besides remind you we have a deal?”
“You’re leaving. How do I know you’re coming back?”
Gemma dried her cheeks. “Because I’m telling you.”
Imani dropped down on her bed. “Mama and Daddy were supposed to come back. Granny and Gramps Cook, Grandpa Shumaker weren’t supposed to die. Gigi Shumaker was just going to her high school reunion. Now she lives in Florida with a fat man named Rick.” Add Rick to the list of nasty four-letter words. “Uncle Roy’s left for Texas ’cause he met someone on the internet. You’re flying to Lauchtenland on a private jet to meet a prince. How can I compete with a prince? And what if the plane crashes?”
Gemma laughed. Not intentionally, because Imani delivered a stellar argument. More because she heard herself in the girl’s reasoning. How many trips downWhat-If Avenuehad she taken? Especially since losing the property. But the funny part of the speech was how Imani believed she competed with a prince.
Even if Gemma had lost her mind and allowed herself to love him, she’d never confess it out loud. She would never allow him to hitch his wagon to hers. It’d ruin his life.
“First, I’m coming back. I’ve a job I love, a kid I love, animals I love.”
“Okay, where are we going to live?”
“Where are we… Here of course.”
“Cut it out, Memaw told me. She made me swear not to say anything to you. She says we might have to move in with them. We lost this place and we’re broke.”
“Good ole, Mauve. Wait until I see her. And we didn’t lose this place, I lost this place. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I had a plan to go to Ella’s for pie, show you the adoption papers, and then drop the bomb. Do you still want to be adopted? I can’t offer much but love.”
