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I laughed as I stepped up to the countertop that separated her from the rest of the kitchen. The way it curved created an almost U-shape that pinned her in and made it seem like she was performing a show for the rest of us. I loved watching her cook, merely because it was a skill I couldn't master. Or rather, hadn't mastered. Because Emmy was adamant that I'd learn how to make all her best dishes.
"Hey, Emmy. What's cooking today?" I asked as I leaned my arms on the counter.
My body felt heavier, like it was weighed down by some invisible force. I knew it was the surprise I'd found earlier, but my body was fooled. Had it not been for the counter itself, I feared I might collapse to the ground. No need for dramatics Dante.
"Jambalaya. I figured it was about time I hit you with some spice. I've taken it easy on your boys. Now that Mr. Lyon is gone, I'm going to build and set a routine for y'all." Her grin was magnetic. I felt my mouth curling at the sides.
"Sounds interesting. Tell me about what's in it."
She goes into a long list of ingredients, each making the dish sound more and more amazing. My mouth waters, eager for a taste.
"What brought you to see me anyway? I figured you and the mister would be off making another room yours," she teased once finished.
I choked out a laugh. That was Emmy for you. Always busting our balls. She's caught me and Daddy in a promiscuous position more than once since she was hired.Thankfully, she took it all in stride saying something like, "Get it boys!" or "Great form!" before strutting out of the room. It always lightens the tension knowing we haven't traumatized her.
"For your information, we've hit nearly every room. The last few are on the list to hit tomorrow. You might want to stay away from the east wing during the morning hours."
At my words, she tilted her head back, and screeched a sharp sound that had her shoulders shaking as she leaned across the counter to touch my hand. "I promise to stay far, far away. As entertaining as you two are, it's best I don't become anymore of a voyeur than I've already been."
"Sounds good to me. Preacher sent me in here thinking I could use some sweets."
She nodded her head knowingly as she pulled away to move to the pantry in the corner. I watched as she disappeared inside before coming back out with a tray of cookies in hand. "I've got you covered, boss."
As she put the cookies in front of me, I dove into them with gusto. She was an excellent chef in general, but her cookies were fucking witchcraft. I was obsessed beyond reason.
"Not to pry, but what made you so upset you needed sweets relief? You don't have to share if you don't want to, but I've been told I'm an excellent listener." She winked as she went back to check on her pot of jambalaya.
I paused for a minute to think about whether or not I could tell her. It was news only Daddy and I knew so far, though I suspected others would learn soon enough.
Besides, Emmy had a way of looking at things that often made me rethink scenarios. Whether it was some random Southern turn of phrase or her slow and steady cadence, I couldn't deny the calming effect she had on me.
"While cleaning out the office, I found proof that my father had other children. I have siblings. Three of them," I admitted after deliberating over what to do.
She let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be. That does indeed deserve a couple of my award-winning cookies. Girls? Boys? Ages?"
I shook my head. "I was too shocked to pay much attention. I think there were two boys and one girl, but I can't say ages. It could be that they're older than me or maybe younger. There's so much I don't know yet."
"Yet?"
"Preacher offered to do some digging. He's going to let me know everything later." I waved a hand in the air as if it would explain it all.
She hummed as she kept stirring the pot. "That makes sense. You wouldn't want to go the rest of your life not knowing about them. Just think, they could be wonderful people. Maybe they're the family you always deserved but never got."
I bit my lip, unsure if I could voice my thoughts. What she suggested was a dream. Something I'd craved for far too long.
How many nights had I wished I had someone to commiserate with before Preacher came along? How many times had I wished there was someone, anyone, to tell me things would be ok?
Even though they might not have lived the same life as me, I suspected there would be some type of camaraderie between us. At least, I hoped there was.
"You know," Emmy said as she turned to face me, her gaze contemplative. "This reminds me of the time my Uncle Jim came home after a deployment to tell my mama, his sister, that he'd knocked up a woman overseas. The woman didn't want to move, so he said he'd be a long-distance baby-daddy. Mama told him he was an idiot, and it wasn't possible living paycheck to paycheck like he was. Your father had more money than God, though. Maybe it wasn't so impossible for him."
"You think he got a woman pregnant three different times and kept her hidden for years just to be a... a...."
"Long. Distance. Baby. Daddy. Look, I know it's a mouthful, but Uncle Jim said it verbatim so I'm just sharing. And yes, I do think he might have done so. Or maybe they're triplets? You won't know until that husband of yours tells you what he finds." She put her hand on her hip as she gave me a sassy stare.
I shook my head at her storytelling antics. "What happened with your Uncle Jim?" Were we really having this conversation?
"He wound up getting a talking to from his mama, my grandmother Verle, God rest her soul. She told him we didn't shirk our responsibilities. Not only did he send her money through the pregnancy, but he wound up getting out of the military a year later and showing up when the baby was young. They've got four kids now and are happy as can be living in her home country." Emmy beamed at me as she pulled her phone from her pocket. "This is them just last week."
