Chapter 8: Emma

Emma looked up from the pages as she rubbed her eyes. After reading and looking at the pictures for several hours, she had to take a break. She stood up from the desk and stretched as she walked toward the door. She left the room and walked down the hall. She peeked into the rooms as she passed, hoping to find her mother in one of them. Emma turned the corner and looked across the living room into the kitchen, but she wasn't there. She finally walked out on the porch, and there in the yard on the swing was her mother. She thought it only fitting that she found her out on the swing.

"How's it going out here, Mom?"

Emma felt silly for having asked, knowing all too well that her mother was in her own personal hell. Elizabeth turned to see her walk outside and smiled at the sight of her daughter.

"How's it going in there?"

She hated it when her mother answered her question with a question, but she didn't see the point in complaining about it. She stood next to the swing, looking down to her, then she gazed out across the yard to the tree line on the far side of the field.

"Is that the tree line where you first met Daddy?"

Emma pointed across the field to a long row of trees that separated the two farms. Elizabeth stood up from where she sat and walked up to the tree that held the swing.

"You know, it seems like yesterday when I met your father."

She sighed loudly, crossing her arms and turned and walked back to Emma.

"It's not every day the love of your life almost falls in your lap."

Emma chuckled. "Oh, Mom."

Elizabeth placed her hand on Emma's shoulder. "I can't believe he's gone, after all these years." She looked out across the fields. "Everywhere I look I see him. I still hear him, and I feel him with every breath I take." Tears now flowed down Elizabeth's face.

Emma stepped toward her. "Mom."

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She only patted Emma and walked up toward the house. Emma wanted to go to her once again, but she felt as if every time she tried to comfort her, she made things worse. She watched as her mother walked back into the house, and as she disappeared inside, Emma turned back and looked to the fields. She didn't even know why she tried. She couldn't keep her own relationship together, let alone comfort her mother.

She stood there continuing to look at the fields, and then for some reason, she began to walk toward the fence. Emma found the gate at the edge of the yard that led to the fields and pushed through it. She walked out into the waist-tall grass and moved toward the tree line in the distance. As she walked, she watched out in front of her as hundreds of grasshoppers leaped into the air.

After she had been walking for about five minutes, she turned and looked back to where she had come from. She could see the meandering path she'd left in the grass that followed after her. She studied the house in the distance, and she let herself imagine she was a child again. She knew if she ran to the house, she would find her father there, probably in his office or maybe his darkroom. She imagined her mother out in the yard tending to her flowers, and for a moment the pain that she felt disappeared.

She looked around to where she now stood, wondering if this might have been the path her father had taken as he raced across the fields as a boy. She extended her arms, letting the grass brush across her hands, and then she looked to the ground and plopped down on the soft grass, disappearing from view.

Emma sat there hidden from the world, and it seemed at that moment that her world collapsed around her. Tears that she had learned to hold back began to flow freely, and for the first time since learning of her father's death, she let go.

She wasn't sure why she broke down at that moment. Maybe it was being back home or maybe it was reading her father's manuscript, but as she sat there hidden from the world, she couldn't hold back. Waves of emotion swept through her. Part of her wanted the past few months to have been a dream. She wanted things to be the way they used to be, she wanted her mother to be happy, she wanted to be happy, but most of all she wanted her father back.

She couldn't help but hate God for taking him. Emma felt guilty for not coming home to see her parents more. She knew her father was always there for her, and now with him gone, she found the world made even less sense. Emma sat for some time thinking of him. She let her mind drift back to when she was a girl, remembering how her father seemed to delight in her mother and her happiness. She remembered how being there on that farm with him felt like the safest place in the world, and she wanted a few minutes of that time back if only to tell her father how much he had meant to her.

As Emma sat there, she felt the wind pick up. The grass around her began to sway, causing more of the grasshoppers to fly into the air. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her hair back, trying to straighten herself up. She stood up from where she sat and looked around as if to see if anyone had seen her but knowing all too well, she was quite alone.

She turned and looked toward the tree line in the distance. Emma brushed away some chaff from the grass that had stuck to her shirt and began to walk. As she meandered across the field, she studied the trees, wondering which one was her father's. She could see one of the grander trees standing just a bit taller and fuller than the others. She decided this must have been the one.

Emma continued her march, and as she reached the far side of the field, she walked up to the row of oaks and leaned on the tree's massive trunk. She looked up to the many limbs and found a large branch that seemed to reach over toward her mother's childhood home.

The old place had been empty for years as Emma's grandparents had died when she was very young. The home had been more of a mystery to her than anything else, a place her mother spoke of that seemed far away and not just across the field. Emma turned her attention back to the tree, smelling the sweet scent of the oaks in the warm air. She patted the heavy bark, knowing in her heart that this must have been her father's spot. She chuckled as she looked to the ground, envisioning him landing there in the grass.

Emma thought about how her father had loved her mother since the day he first saw her, and she couldn't understand where she had gone wrong in her own life. She felt like all she did was just go through the motions in her relationship. As she stood there, she felt the breeze pick up again. This time the breeze had cooled a bit, and at times it had a bite to it like it did before a big storm swept across the valley. As the next cool gust blew across her skin, she decided she had better begin heading home.

When she did finally make it back to the house, she found her mother asleep in her room. Emma stood at the door and rested her head there. As she watched her, she feared the worst. She hated to think of a world without her parents in it, but as she stood there, the idea became real.

"I love you, Mom," she whispered

She turned away from the door and headed back to her father's den.

As she walked up to the desk, she found a plate of food and a glass of tea. Next to the plate was a napkin with writing on it. Emma picked it up and read it.

Thought you might be hungry after your walk. Love, Mom.

She shook her head at her mother's note.

"I assumed I was here to take care of you, Mom," she said aloud

Emma put the napkin in her pocket and moved behind the desk. She picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. She leaned back in the chair and picked up her father's notes.