“I’m sorry, May.” Emmy borrowed her sister’s earlier words. “Seriously biggomen nasai.”
“Doshite?”
“I underestimated you. A lot. I didn’t trust you could take care of yourself.”
May waved that away. “Nobody’s perfect, Emmy. You’re harder on yourself than you ever were on me. I’m glad we got that all cleared up, though, because I want to know what’s wrong. Are you up to talking about it?”
It all came back to her at once, and her hands shook around the rapidly cooling tea in her grip. She didn’t want to cry again. Physically, it felt like she couldn’t produce more tears. She swallowed back the rising panic and heartache.
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”
May gave her a look. “Emmy… who are you talking to?”
“Oh… right.”
She started with the visit to Lucy. It was surprisingly easy once she got going, especially if she pretended she was simply telling a story, a tall tale to amuse her big sister. She summed up the Tarot reading, moved on to browsing for a new romance novel, and remembered at the last second to skip over seeing the vanity set in all its glory. No need to spoil anything there.
May listened without interruption. Even when Emmy got to the part where she woke up in Will’s bed, inside the world of the novel. May laughed a little, then sat forward and gestured for Emmy to continue, like she was excited to hear what happened next.
Then Emmy got to the part where she’d looked at Gordon the flashlight, and May stopped her for the first time.
“I guess I can accept he’d name a flashlight since it was from his grandfather or whatever, but why Gordon?”
“It’s a reference toFlash Gordon.”
May gave her a blank look.
“It’s an old TV show from the eighties.”
“Never heard of it. How do you know about it?”
“Sarah’s uncle had it on DVD. We got a kick out of watching it. It’s ridiculously cheesy. I never told you about it?”
“I, too, am shocked that there’s something about you I was not aware of, but more interesting to me is the fact that this particular obscure show was referenced in a magic book you happened to pick up. Almost like it was made for you. Or Will was.” When Emmy frowned at that, May added, “If it had been me, I probably would have thought he was a basketball fan or something.”
Now Emmy wrinkled her nose in pure confusion. “Why basketball?”
“Because of the famous basketball guy. Come on, everyone knows him. His last name is Gordon.”
Emmy let out a bark of laughter as she connected the dots. “Baka! You mean Michael Jordan?”
“Yeah, him! Wait… MichaelJordan? Oh.”
Emmy had thought it would be a long time before she could laugh again, but as her sister’s face turned red, and she began to giggle at her own mistake, the joy bubbled up. They laughed together, drank cold tea, ignored the remaining slice of toast. Emmy sat back against the couch and tried to pick up the threads of the story. She opened her mouth, and, without any warning, burst into tears all over again.
Then she was lying with her head in May’s lap, sobbing until she thought she’d die.
“You fell in love with him,” May said quietly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Emmy’s back.
Unable to speak yet, Emmy nodded.
“Do you want some water?”
Now she shook her head, got her breathing under control. “I need to finish it. There’s so much more.”
She didn’t bother to sit up as she resumed the story. Once again, May listened without question, without offering censure, or judgment, or incredulity. Her lap was comfortable, and Emmy could smell some kind of delicate body spray. Honeysuckle maybe. May always had one or two scents in her purse. As well as deodorant, lipstick, mascara, a compact, cold cream, hand lotion, nail clippers, eye drops, tissues, and peppermints.
Emmy breathed her sister in and took comfort in it. Until she got to the part of the story where Will had encouraged her to try landscaping professionally, and she’d balked. She admitted now what she’d only thought to herself at the time—that Andrew had played a big part in her hesitance.
