Emmy stuck her hand in her pocket as she walked down the aisle. Jude watched her until she disappeared around the corner.
“Ma’am?”
Jude shouldn’t have been surprised to see the man from the library in a town with fewer people than her apartment block in San Francisco. His hair was neatly parted. The nametag on his blue vest readMy name is Carl. I’m here to help!
His smile showed a missing tooth. “Hey, the lady from the library. Small world, huh?”
Jude caught the sour odor of stale cigarettes and fresh whiskey on his breath.
“Can I help you find anything? We’re closing in a few minutes, but don’t let me rush you.”
Jude was about to demur, but then she remembered what Emmy had said in the car about telling Cole to move out. That was at least one tangible thing Jude could help with. “Do you sell moving boxes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gestured up the aisle. “Right there on the end cap. Lemme walk you to ’em.”
“I can find them, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He started to leave, then seemed to change his mind. “Don’t mean to intrude, but I saw you with the sheriff. I heard about that poor lady and her daughter. I hope she catches the guy soon.”
“She will,” Jude said. “Only a matter of time.”
“Good deal.” He gave her a thumbs-up before shuffling off.
Jude could still smell the tobacco and whiskey as she walked up the aisle. The endcap was loaded with packing supplies. Cole’s room was a mess, but she could get him started. She wrapped her fingers around a roll of tape. Then logic struck her with a sudden paralysis.
What was she doing? Was she going to help Cole pack? Go apartment hunting? Pick out sheets and hang curtains? Would Jude move into his old bedroom and become Emmy’s roommate? Was she going to pretend for the rest of her life that she was his aunt, that Emmy was her sister?
After four decades of yearning to tell the truth, hours of therapy, countless sleepless nights and deep, dark periods of depression, was Jude really going to let herself embrace this lie?
She let go of the tape. She looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears in her eyes. She had been thinking about this on the metal bench in front of the flower shop before Emmy had shown up, but now she let herself come into a complete understanding. The path she was currently on suddenly felt very familiar. Old habits rearing their ugly head. Denial seeping back in. The trickery of negotiating with herself, pushing herself to believe that she could have a few moments, then a few more, without getting pulled down a path that could only lead to destruction.
They had gotten too close. Gone too deep. There was a real friendship developing. An appreciation. A kinship. A close bond. But Jude was not Emmy’s sister. She was her mother, and shehad to stop pretending otherwise. Celia was right. Her kindness had turned into cowardice. The only solution was for Jude to remove herself from the situation. To stop making memories. To go back to San Francisco. To rebuild her courage. To think about the things that mattered. Time away would give them both some perspective. She would return to North Falls when Emmy was able to sit down and talk. For now, separation was the only way to stop the bleeding.
“Jude?” Emmy was at the other end of the aisle. She looked anxious. She was wringing her hands the same way she had at Myrna’s funeral.
All of Jude’s resolve broke. She rushed toward Emmy. Stuck her hands into her jacket pockets so that she wouldn’t reach for her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Emmy’s face told a different story. “Sonny told me Louis had a nap earlier, so he’s having a good day. You’ve never been around somebody with dementia, right?”
“Not to interview.” Jude paused. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Emmy spoke with a tangible sense of dread. “Having a good day doesn’t mean back to normal. He’s still going to mix people up, use the wrong words, blank out. Just roll with whatever he says. Anything else might upset him.”
Jude followed her to the back. She shook her head, told herself she wasn’t a coward. She would find the right moment, but that moment could not be right now.
The office was crammed with overflowing shelves and bins. Jude let her gaze settle on the disparate pieces: machine screws, bolts, washers, and specialized parts that looked like they belonged in a steampunk exhibit. She felt her resolve start to strengthen, her purpose come into focus. She was here for Emmy. When Emmy stopped needing her, she would be gone.
Louis Singh was perched on a stool pulled up to a tall drafting table. Photos lined the wall—his wife and kids, some of the men he’d served with in Vietnam. A set of wooden in and out trays showed that his pretend work was almost finished for the day.
He put down his pen when they walked in. A smile lit up hiswrinkled old face. His laugh lines were deep because he had always loved a good joke. Jude could’ve been blindfolded and still found him by sensation alone. The man had an aura that projected kindness. She remembered him as always looking for the positive. Unrelentingly happy. Forgiving. Generous to a fault. In so many ways, he was the opposite of Gerald Clifton, who had been brooding and conflicted and so trapped in his own head that he could go days without speaking.
As a young girl, Jude had been furious with her mother for cheating. As an adult, she wondered why her mother hadn’t cheated more.
“Martha!” Louis called Jude by her old name. He pulled her into a bear hug. “You look just like your mother.”
Jude was almost overcome with emotion. She hadn’t been properly hugged since she’d left San Francisco. Holding Millie had felt like embracing a barbed icicle, and Tommy’s idea of affection was a quick pat on the shoulder.
Louis held her at arm’s length. “My God, you’re a knockout! Are you seeing anybody?”
