“Daddy does whatever Mother says. She says she didn’t get what she wanted in a husband or a child—that both of us are spineless and have the personality of milk toast.” Emma put her hands over her eyes for a moment.
“I think we’ve done a lot of good today. You get some rest now, and before I come in tomorrow, will you try to remember what it is that you have buried in your memories? Until you face that problem, you won’t ever be able to get over it or live in a tiny house all by yourself.” Nancy took her notebook and eased the door closed behind her as she left.
Why doesn’t anyone ever slam a door in this place? Emma wondered. She could almost hear the scratch of Nancy’s pen again and could imagine what she was writing on the other side of the door: We had a major breakthrough today. Maybe tomorrow we will get to the root of this problem and she’ll talk about her repressed memories.
“Think about the good times,” Emma said as she forgot about a nap and turned her attention back to the redbud tree outside her window. “I wish I had colored the cat black with red eyes. An artist can do whatever they want. Sophie said so.”
Sophie slammed a pillow over the ringing telephone. Whoever was on the other end had better hope they were a hundred miles away from her if they didn’t hang up soon. The noise stopped and she went back to sleep, but five minutes later, it started up again. She rolled over in bed, threw the pillow against the far wall of her loft apartment in downtown Dallas, and, without even opening her eyes, answered the phone.
“Sophie, darlin’, did I wake you?”
Her eyes popped wide-open at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Yes, but is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine here,” Rebel said. “I just came home from my water aerobics class at the YMCA. I’ve got two houses to clean today, but I had a few minutes to call you. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No problem, and like I’ve told you a gazillion times, you don’t have to clean houses anymore. I’m putting enough money in your checking account each month that you can retire.” Sophie covered a yawn with the back of her hand. She’d been up until dawn, putting the finishing touches on a landscape painting with the Dallas skyline in the background.
“Honey, you might need that money someday,” Rebel said. “And like I’ve told you a gazillion times, I would go bat-crap crazy if I didn’t work. Now that we’ve beat that dead horse some more, do you remember Emma Merrill?”
“Of course I do. Please don’t tell me something horrible has happened to her.” An icy-cold chill chased down Sophie’s spine. She hadn’t talked to Emma in years—not since that first semester of college. Then she had heard that Emma had decided not to go back to college. When Sophie tried to call her, she got Victoria instead, and the woman had given her a tongue lashing.
“Depends on what you mean by ‘happened to her,’” Rebel said. “I go to my aerobics class with the lady who cleans for her mother these days. She said that Emma is in Oak Lawn Wellness Center somewhere over around Fort Worth. Anyway, my friend Annie said that she overheard Victoria talking on the phone and saying that they were going to put her in a permanent-care facility. I guess she’s been in and out of places like that since she came home from college after the first semester.”
“What in the world? Why would they do that?” Sophie shoved back the covers and slung her legs over the edge of her bed. Something horrible must have happened for Emma to give up on her artist dream. Hoping that Emma might be the one to answer the phone, Sophie had tried to call her one more time after Victoria’s outburst. That time she got a recording saying that the number was no longer in use or had been changed.
“Seems she can’t shake this depression she’s been in since she quit college,” Rebel said. “I thought you might want to go visit her before you leave to go down to south Texas. I loved that little girl and felt like we had deserted her. If Victoria’s not there, y’all might get to spend a little time together.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way.” Sophie opened her packed suitcase and threw in a few more items. “Victoria fired you. If anyone deserted her, I did. I gave up trying to get in touch with her when I should have marched up to that house and demanded that they let me talk to her.”
“Victoria would have never let that happen, and honey”—Rebel paused—“I would have said no if Emma had talked Victoria into paying your tuition back in the day so that you could have been tutored with her.”
“I had no idea that Emma tried that,” Sophie said.
“Me either, until Annie told me a few weeks ago. It was water under the bridge, so I didn’t mention it to you before now. Victoria was ranting about the fact that if Emma had never known you, she wouldn’t be in the shape she’s in now,” Rebel said.
Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. “What did I do that would put her in a mental institution?”
“Victoria says that Emma depended on you for everything and that when you deserted her, she was never the same,” Rebel answered. “We both know that’s a crock of bull crap. We were kicked out of Emma’s life. We damn sure didn’t leave her because we wanted to, but there’s no telling what Victoria told her.”
“Emma never mentioned anything like that when we met those few times that first semester of college, but, Mama, I’m glad I went to public school,” Sophie said. “I’m just sorry that Emma couldn’t have been there with me. The few times she called me after we couldn’t go to her house anymore, she told me that she hated not getting to go to school. I’ll go see her this morning and give you a call afterward.”
“Better let me call you this evening. You know how these rich folks are about their maids talking on their time.” Rebel laughed.
“Yes, ma’am, I surely do,” Sophie agreed. “Love you. Don’t work too hard.”
“Never happen,” Rebel said. “Love you, too.”
Sophie laid the phone on the end table and checked the time. Straight up twelve o’clock noon. She wasn’t one to work on a schedule. If she really got into painting, she might get up at dawn and work until noon. If she decided to paint a night scene, she might not go to bed until sunrise, which was the reason she had slept until noon that day.
As she got dressed, she did the simple math. If she spent thirty minutes with Emma, she could still be moving into her place near Big Bend National Park before dark. She loved that area and for the past several years had rented a little two-bedroom trailer in the Hummingbird Trailer Park, aptly named because it was located on Hummingbird Lane.
“I’m going to tell her that there’s no way I deserted her, no matter what Victoria says,” Sophie said as she closed her suitcase, threw a few more items into a tote bag that held her toiletries, and took one last look at the loft. Bed made. Dishes all done and put away. The last three pictures she had painted were covered with canvas. The rest of the past year’s work—all thirty paintings—had already been shipped to London. They would travel from there to Paris and then to Rome for her gallery tour. Her boyfriend, Teddy, was over in Europe now, taking care of all the details, but he would be home in a few weeks.