Crap. That was the only word that came to mind as Emersyn took the phone out of Kiel's hand and held it up to her own ear. "Hi, Makayla," she said, giving Zeke an apologetic look as she stepped out of the room. After spending so many years away from her mom, it just felt weird to call her anything but her actual name. And she'd never seemed to care before. "What's... what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Emersyn Collins," her mother growled into the phone, and Emersyn closed her eyes, wishing that Kiel could be like everyone else in the world and not answer his phone to numbers he didn't recognize. "I have been scared to death. I woke up and you were gone, and I've been trying to reach you for days. I thought you were hurt or dead. What the hell?"

She shook her head, and then remembering that her mom couldn't see her, she said, "Nope. Not hurt. Not dead. Just not there." She took a breath to steady herself before adding on, "And to be honest, I didn't think we had anything more to say to each other. Didn't we say all we had to say the other night?"

"That conversation was not over, and you know it," her mother said in a whispered growl that made her think she must've been at work. Emersyn shook her head. Even now, she couldn't get her mom's attention. It was infuriating.

"It was over to me," she said. "Why would you call Kiel? How did you even get his number?"

"I've always had his number," she replied, as if this was obvious. As if Emersyn was stupid for even asking. She felt the rage bubble collect more air in her chest. If she'd always had Kiel's number, then why hadn't she called sooner? Like all those years she was with her grandparents, waiting at the window for her mother, the only parent she had left, to come walking up the path to the house. Why hadn't she ever called to wish her a happy birthday or congratulate her for winning first prize at the art show for five years straight?

The answer was simple, and it was in the journal sitting snugly under her pillow on her bed. She'd never really wanted to be a mom. And she'd definitely never acted like one.

"Oh good," she said, the bitterness projecting out of her mouth like vomit, "I'm glad you called now."

"What is that supposed to mean, Emersyn?"

"Nothing," she replied, the bubble getting dangerously close to bursting. "Just that if you had his number this whole time, why didn't you ever call before? Like, when grandpa died when I was eleven? Or when grandma got diagnosed with dementia when I was a teenager? Why do you care now?"

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment Emersyn thought her mom had hung up. But then she heard her voice say, a little louder than the whisper she was using before, "How dare you? You don't understand."

POP. It had burst. "No, YOU don't understand," Emersyn yelled, feeling the rage warm her entire body from head-to-toe. "You have NEVER understood anything. You've never understood how to pick up a damn phone and make a simple call. You've never understood what art means to this family. My real family. And you've never understood ME. AT ALL." There was a breath of air on the other end, but Emersyn had had enough. "You never wanted to be a mother, right? Well, now you got your wish. Do NOT call me again, Makayla! We are DONE! Do you hear me? DONE!"

She wished phones could be like they were in old movies. That she could slam the receiver into the base. She needed the satisfaction of making a loud noise. And in this moment, she finally understood why people punched inanimate objects when they were furious. She stormed back into the living room, where Kiel and Zeke were both sitting on the couch. Zeke was averting his eyes from her awkwardly, and Kiel was staring at her, as if she was a piece of fruit at the grocery store that had fallen to the floor. Checking for visible bruises. Scars in places where he could see. But none of her scars were where he, or anyone else, could see them. They were all inside of her, and they reopened every time she talked to that woman who called herself her mother. But not anymore. She was done.

"Thanks for letting me use your phone," she said as she handed his phone back to him. Kiel took it and slid it into his jeans pocket, still watching her anxiously. "Sorry about that. I just... hate her."

And there it was. The words she'd never been allowed to say in this house, spilling from her lips like lava oozing from a volcano. It had been her grandma's hard and fast rule. No words of hate were allowed to be uttered in her house. But no one deserved to hear those words more than her mother, who acted like she was worried when she wasn't. When she never had been. When she didn't know the meaning of the word.

"Em," Kiel said, and she could hear the pity in his voice.

She held her hand up to stop him from saying another word on the subject. She really couldn't handle him playing devil's advocate. "Thanks for stopping by. I'll pull the money from the estate tomorrow for the new water heater. Think you can pick it up for me?"

He nodded his head. "Sure. Zeke and I will pick you up a new one in town tomorrow, and I'll let you know how much it costs so you can pay me back. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," she said in agreement, her body still quivering with unprocessed rage.

Kiel gave her a hug goodbye while Zeke stood by his side awkwardly. She could tell he didn't really know what to say, and she was mildly embarrassed by her outburst in the kitchen. Kiel collected his tools that had been sitting by the front door and walked out, leaving her alone with Zeke.

"I'm sorry about—"

"It's fine," she interrupted, not wanting to get into it in fear that she would explode again. "Really. I'm fine. There's just a lot of bad blood between us. A lot."

He nodded his head. "I get it. I'm just sorry you have to deal with it." She gave him a small smile. "So, are we still on to meet up tomorrow evening at the graveyard?"

There was something about the calm tone of his voice. The rage in her was dying down, and she could feel her heart rate slowing. "Yes. Absolutely, yes. Get my number from Kiel and text me when you're done with work. I'll walk down there and meet you."

His light blue eyes stared directly into her green ones, and she felt that tickle in her stomach again. A flip, almost. Like she was driving down a hill really fast. "Thank you for offering to help me. Seriously. I really appreciate it."

Another smile, this time wider. "Sure. I'm happy to help."

He turned to leave, but then paused, swung back around, and hugged her. She felt another blush rise in her cheeks as his warm body enveloped her. "Sorry, but I'm a hugger. And if I'm being honest, you looked like you could use one."

She couldn't help herself. She put her arms around him and hugged him back, whispering so quietly she wondered if he could even hear her, "Thank you." He smelled like sawdust and sweat and something else. Something woodsy, like pine or oak. She breathed it in, feeling a wave of comfort crash through her as she did. It was strange. She didn't even really know this guy. But something about him was making her feel like she was finally home.

He pulled back and gave her a look, as if making sure she was okay. She nodded, answering his unasked question, and he gave her a tiny smile. "See you tomorrow," he said, and this time when he turned around, he actually walked away. She waved, even though his back was to her now, and he couldn't see. And she watched as he hopped into Kiel's truck, stuck his hand out the window, and waved back. His head tilted in Kiel's direction, and she wondered what they were talking about.

She closed the door and headed out to the old garage, knowing her grandma had a bunch of books and written notes about the history of the area. It was in one of the boxes she had planned to donate to the church. She pulled the box away from the others and carried it into the house. Maybe there was something there that would help Zeke find his family. She didn't fully understand why she felt the need to help him like she did. But still, for the rest of the day, she found herself tearing through the old box, digging through dust and spiderwebs and hoping there weren't still spiders living in them. The books that didn't seem relevant she put aside ,but the ones that did she set on the coffee table.

While looking she found an old photo album, and when she flipped through, her breath caught in her throat at seeing her grandma as a young woman. It was a black and white photo of her grandma in a wedding dress standing next to her grandpa. They looked so happy. She kept flipping the pages and found pictures of them on vacation. Pictures of them around the house. Pictures of her grandma with a big pregnant belly. And then the lump rose in her throat again when she saw her grandma holding her dad as a baby. He'd had ginger colored hair, just like hers. She was asked all the time if hers was natural, and it was. But sometimes it was easy to forget where she got her natural red hair. She kept flipping through the pages of the photo album, seeing her dad grow older and older with each page.

And then, on one of the very last pages, was a picture of her dad with three other people. He looked to be in his late teens to early 20s, and he had one arm around the younger version of her mother, and the other around an equally younger version of Kiel. Kiel had the arm that wasn't around her dad around some girl she didn't recognize. They looked so different then. Especially her mom. She looked vibrant and carefree. Emersyn couldn't see it in the woman she knew now, but there was a strong resemblance between her and the version of her mother from the old photo. They had the same face shape. The same forest green eyes. The same button nose. Even the same smile, although it was hard to tell since her mom never smiled now. But here... yes, here it was obvious. They were definitely mother and daughter.

She wondered if this younger version of her mother knew then that she was capable of cheating on her partner and abandoning her only child. Just looking at the picture, Emersyn didn't think so. But just a couple years after this picture was taken, her mother would give birth to her. And just a few years after that, her husband would die in a house fire. And her mother would leave the island and never come back. Not for holidays or birthdays or any of the days in between. She never would've thought the girl in this picture capable of those things. But time and tragedy changed people. It was very clear that her mother was not the same person she was back then. The person her grandparents had described to her as she grew up. And really, after reading the journal and learning about Ed and the unwanted pregnancy, she wondered if her grandparents had really known her mother like they thought they had.

She pulled the picture out of the photo album and slid it carefully into her pocket, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she did.

Chapter Seven

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