When she turned for the courtyard, Mom sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. She called Emery to sit with her.
“Why the blanket?” Emery sat on the ground beside her. “It’s hot and humid out here.”
“I had a bit of a chill. Delilah wonders if it might be a summer cold. I’ll be fine.” Her soft palm stroked Emery’s wild hair. “Why don’t you get your brush?”
Mom brushing her hair was Emery’s favorite pastime. In the cottage, Dad was hovered over his computer with a serious expression.
“Hey,” she said, “whatever happened to our unplugged summer? No work. No TV or videos.” She ruffled his curly hair. “No computer.”
“Just researching.” He looked up, bleary-eyed. “Did you see your mother? How was she?”
“Good, I guess.” Emery ducked into her bathroom. “She wants to brush my hair.”
Dad reached for her as she headed back out. “Did Caleb behave himself?”
“Always. Oh yeah, his parents invited us to dinner at their house.” Emery glanced down, blushing, wondering if Dad could see through her. That she was in love. “Can we stay longer? Please?”
“We’ll see.” Okay, that was progress. Closer to a yes than a no.
Back at the firepit, Emery rested against Mom’s blanketed legs. With each pass of the brush, she drifted away with the sound of the night.
“You’re so tan,” Mom said. “I thought your Irish blood would never allow it.”
“How do you know if you’re in love, Mom?”
“Goodness, that’s a big question in this small moment.”
Emery twisted around to see her face. “I’m serious.”
“Are we talking about Caleb Ransom?” Mom said.
“Are there any other boys I hang around with?”
“Well, you’re young, but not so young to know love means you don’t count the cost. You don’t hold grudges or offenses. You forgive. You sacrifice. You can imagine a life with them. Be with someone you can livewith, not live without.” Mom ran the brush through her hair from the nape of her neck and then over the crown of her head. “You might be a bit young to decide on a life partner, but if he makes your heart go pitter-patter, and if you want good for him over yourself, you might be in love.”
“He kissed me, and I thought I’d fly away and melt all at once.”
“Goodness, that was some kiss,” Mom said. “The first boy who kissed me, Randy Needleman ... hmm, it was like kissing a toad.” Mom’s pretty laugh fluttered in the wind, along with a few embers from the smoldering fire. “I’ve not thought of him in eons. Anyway, I told him if he ever kissed me again, I’d knock him down.”
“Way to go, Mom.” Emery raised her hand for a backward high five. “How old were you?”
“About your age. He’d asked me to dance at a friend’s party.” There was a moment of silence, and Emery began to drift away when Mom said, “Emery, about being in love ... be careful, hear me? I want to take home the same girl I brought down here.”
“What?” Emery popped awake. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Meaning I don’t want my girllosinganything on the beach or in the back of a Chevy S-10.” She made a face—brow arched, eyes wide.
“Oh.” Emery shrank down. Mom gave her part of the “the talk” when she was ten, then again when she was thirteen. But since Emery never had a boyfriend, the nitty-gritty details seemed more like theory than reality. A one-day-in-the-future-moment.
With Caleb’s kisses, the future had arrived. While their declarations of love seemed innocent enough, she wondered if he’d expect more than a kiss before she went home. Naw, not Caleb. He wouldn’t ... would he?
“You know I want you to wait. You’re too young for sex, Em. There’s more to it than physical affection.”
“I know,” she muttered, shrinking down further so Mom could only brush the top of her head.
“But if you feel things are getting out of hand, talk to me. Do you hear? I’ll have your father kill the boy.”
“Mom!”
