Now She's Back. Anna Adams

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t know what to say. They’d been polite at the wedding about nine months ago, but neither had experienced step-relation love at first sight. And the other night, Megan had left without speaking to her.

      Maybe because no matter how much Emma didn’t want to be her old, pushy, demanding, loveless, but hungry-for-love self, she couldn’t help the hostility she used for protection. Her father had someone new, and a new child coming.

      Emma hadn’t expected life to stop while she was gone, but she hadn’t expected her father to find a whole new family that might be a bit more pleasant than she was.

      Megan turned back to the still-open door of her car and tugged a big, canvas bag of greens out of the passenger seat. “Your father said you like kale.”

      Emma nodded. “Thank you.” She crossed to her and took the bag out of her arms. The tension between them was almost palpable. It had to stop, Emma thought. She could stop it. “Do you want to come in for some coffee?” She glanced down at her stepmother’s swollen belly. “Or maybe herbal tea?”

      Megan shut her car door. “I’d like that.”

      Emma turned toward the house. Her father, Brett Candler, had met Megan at some bank do in New York, and less than a year ago they’d married. Her stepmother was barely nine years older than she was. Emma wanted to like the woman who’d made her father happy at last.

      “Mind the construction area. Owen’s off today.”

      “How much longer do you think he’ll be working here?”

      “Until sometime around Thanksgiving.” Emma glanced back. Megan was holding her stomach and clinging to the newly sturdy handrail.

      Emma stopped and held out her hand. “Let me help you.”

      Megan hesitated for a moment. Then she took Emma’s hand. “Thanks.”

      At the top of the stairs, they both released themselves from the oddly awkward handclasp, and Emma put on some speed to reach the kitchen. She eased the kale out of the bag and into the wide sink. “Take a seat. I’ll plug in the tea thing.” That was what she’d always called her grandmother’s clear plastic electric kettle. “It plugs in and heats water quickly. Nan loved hot tea when the weather turned chilly, and I’ve been drinking it, too, since I got back.”

      “A way to be closer to her, maybe,” Megan said.

      Emma measured her stepmother with a smile that felt stiff no matter how badly she wanted it to be natural. “Let me see what I can offer you.” She went to the cupboard and took down several different packets, as pretty as small square paintings. “Any of these look good to you?”

      Megan pulled a purple packet from the array. “I’ll get the mugs.” She turned in a half circle. “If you point me to the right shelf?”

      Emma did, and then she folded the canvas bag and set it at the end of the island. “It was nice of you to bring the greens.”

      Megan nodded, setting the mugs on the counter. She came back to the island, playing with the corner of the teabag. “I wanted to talk to you, Emma,” she said.

      Emma moved back to the counter. “Maybe I haven’t been as open with you as I should be.”

      “I’m not accusing you of anything.” Megan dropped the teabag. “But I love your father. I wonder if you believe that.”

      Emma would have changed the subject immediately if her mind hadn’t gone blank.

      “I asked your dad if I could bring the kale because I want to clear the air between us. You’ve been home for more than a week. I don’t know how long before you leave again, but your father doesn’t know how to invite you to our house—to your old home—without worrying I’ll be hurt. He thinks you stay away because you’re upset we got married.”

      Emma reached into a cupboard beneath the island for the tea thing. She went to the sink to add water, then plugged it in. “I’d like to see more of Dad. Just ask me when you both have some time.”

      Megan plucked her sunglasses off her head and dropped them on the folded bag. She crossed to Emma, her sudden purpose startling. “You have twigs in your hair.”

      “Thanks.”

      “Bend down.”

      Though Megan was so close to her in age, her hands, easing the crepe myrtle out of her hair, reminded her of Nan and being cared for. Small moments that mattered because Nan had glowed with a kindness Emma couldn’t even begin to grasp.

      But Megan wasn’t required to groom a testy stepdaughter.

      “You know what?” Emma said. “There’s baby stuff in the attic here. Nan kept it. Apparently, every time I outgrew an item of baby equipment, my mom dragged it over here to get it out of her sight.”

      Megan looked startled. Her mom must not have been like Pamela. Emma closed her eyes, then plastered on a smile. “Sorry. I’m trying to change, and that kind of talk was a step backward. Do you want to see if you like anything?”

      “I have a crib and a few other things.”

      Emma turned to look at her with a smile. “Throw me a tiny bone. I’m trying.”

      “I mean yes,” Megan said. “I’d enjoy rooting around in your attic.”

      “It’s cleaner than most of the downstairs, as I’m moving everything to make room for Owen to work. Apparently, we had termites almost everywhere, but the attic floor is safe. We’ll go up this way.”

      The back stairs landed on the second floor and then again at the attic, the door of which opened as if Emma had just oiled the hinges. Which she had.

      “Could we talk about what I said?” Megan asked.

      “I’m not upset you married my dad.” Emma regretted the polite lie, walking ahead of Megan to show her to the far corner of the attic. Furniture was set up as if in a nursery. A high chair her great-great-grandfather had dented with his spoon, and a crib with totally unsuitable spindles. “I take that back. I’m a little upset.” She lifted the high chair’s table. “See, this works.”

      “I do like that. I’ll need to make sure it’s still safe for a baby.”

      “Good idea. I didn’t want Dad to live alone the rest of his life. I thought he’d find some lovely, stable woman.”

      “More his age?” Megan’s laugh was gentle. “But I am stable. I can get you references.”

      Emma laughed with her. “It’s just odd. You’re practically my age. He didn’t tell me you were pregnant until I came back.”

      “So I heard. He burst out with it as soon as the exterminator turned his back while they were showing you the termite damage here.”

      “Dad and I share a pretty strong tendency toward clumsiness.” Emma moved on to a rocking horse her father had painted dark green for her. “I remember when he put this mane and tail on. The original was bedraggled and gray.” She stroked the fine, honey-brown strands. Her choice of color. “I called her Miriam, and I braided СКАЧАТЬ