Henrietta stands, tugging me to my feet. I follow her out of the house before remembering I left my purse in the sitting room.
When I open the door, Knightley is standing there as if he was going to walk outside. “Um, excuse me. I’ll just—” I try to scoot around him, but he steps in front of me.
“Are you okay, Emma Jane?”
“I will be okay,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
“I’m here for you.” His voice is a pained whisper, and after a beat, I gather the courage to look at him. His blue eyes are dark, his jaw set.
I manage a soft smile, my heart breaking as I say, “You can’t be. Not anymore.”
Knightley
Rule #15: When your clients begin to fall in love, be prepared for the masks to fall. Help them navigate truly seeing each other.
“Where’s your better half?” Stone Harper, the director and founder of the Juniper Grove Community Center, asks. He approached my campaign booth at the Juniper Grove Sweet Tea Festival minutes ago to make sure I received his invite to the Halloween Bash the center is putting on for Halloween in a little over a week.
I scratch the back of my neck. “She’s working, but she’ll drop by here after.”
Stone nods, his blond hair catching in the slight wind, then glances back at his girlfriend, who is chatting with Emma Jane by some booth set up for a friendship bracelet exchange.
Why is that a trend?
Should I have “Knightley for Mayor” friendship bracelets made to appeal to younger voters?
I cringe. Nope. Not happening.
“Hey, have you thought of how we could go about a community-wide Fourth of July fireworks display?” Stone asks, his blue eyes widening with excitement. “We have this event back in Dasher Valley, and it’d be cool to have one here, too.” He continues to tell me all about the logistics of the event and how he thinks we could transfer something similar to Juniper Grove. We continue to chat for a few minutes before his girlfriend and Emma Jane approaches.
“Mayor, have you met my girlfriend, Lucy Spence?” Stone asks, slipping his arm around her, though his smile as he looks down at her doesn’t quite meet his eyes. When she gazes up at him, there is… fear? Concern? Sadness?
Should I look deeper into this? Surely Stone wouldn’t be hurting a girl, right?
I exchange a quick look with Emma Jane, trying to have a silent conversation with her, but she turns her head and looks everywhere else. I reach out my hand to shake Lucy’s. “Nice to meet you, Miss Spence. Emma Jane has told me a lot about you, and of course, I’d recognize a lady that looks like my former employee, Lorelei, anywhere. I hear you’re our local romance author?”
She chuckles, but the sound is weak. She’s ghostly pale beneath her freckles. I cut my eyes toward Stone, who wears a worried expression. Maybe she’s just sick today or something. I need to stop reading political thrillers.
“That’s me.” She smiles once more, but it’s… haunted. She rises onto her toes and whispers in Stone’s ear, and then the two of them say their goodbyes, leaving me and Emma Jane alone at the tent.
“Emma Jane.” Once she looks at me instead of organizing the pamphlets on the fold-out table, I ask, “Is everything okay with Lucy? Is Stone… hurting her somehow?”
“What?” She throws her hands onto her hips. “Not a chance. Though I have noticed Lucy hasn’t been quite the same lately. She says it’s because of a book deadline or something.”
“All right, well. I trust you.”
“We need more water.” Gerald and Fred, the two guys helping with today’s campaign stuff, approach.
“I’ll go purchase some,” Emma Jane offers, and the guys take a seat in the shade.
I watch as Emma Jane leaves, wondering if she’s having a better day. The past month since everything went down at Mom’s house, she’s been different. More standoffish, but not mean or rude. Just reclusive, I guess. Some days her smile is genuine while other days it’s forced.
But no matter how much I press, she won’t tell me what’s wrong. And when I ask Marcus if he has heard anything from Henrietta, he tells me that Emma Jane is working through stuff but she’s okay.
I wish she would let me be there for her. Like she has in the past.
Except…
I’ve never cared this much. Have never had her on my mind as I fall asleep. Or typed and deleted text messages over and over. Or prayed to God that He would destroy whatever mental monsters she’s facing that she won’t share with me.
