reputation

Wedding Planning

June 8, 2018.

Sixteen - Emma

London was, to no one's surprise, dreary. The wind nipped at every piece of goosebump-riddled skin that Emma had made the mistake of leaving uncovered and the small droplets of water that fell randomly from the sky frizzed up her hair. It was the kind of day perfect for watching raindrops fall down the window of a cab or curling up by a fireplace with a new book and hot drink. According to her mother, it was the kind of day perfect for visiting her father's grave.

Emma had resisted when the idea had been presented to her. She had pleaded with her mother, giving the older woman every reason why she didn't want to go, saying that it would be a waste of time and she wanted to make sure Taylor was settled in at the stadium, but she reluctantly agreed when her mother brought out the fact that she hadn't been to visit his grave since he died because she didn't want to go alone. As much as Emma couldn't understand it, her mother really did love him. Besides, he couldn't be much more than bones by now.

"Thank you for coming with me, Emmybear. It means a lot to me."

Emma scrunched her nose up before letting out a deep breath and forcing a smile. "I'm happy we're doing something that makes you happy."

Evelyn hummed appreciatively, sat down the bouquet of white roses she had carefully plucked the thorns off of, and turned to Emma expectantly, waiting for her to give him whatever gift she had brought with her. She hadn't brought anything, so she picked up the little gray pebble in front of her feet and sat it on the little headstone next to the flowers. Evelyn sat in the damp overgrown grass and talked to her dead ex-husband while Emma stood awkwardly by her side, quiet as a mouse.

Luke opened the door for both of them and drove them home without a word. He may have been about as sharp as a marble, but even he could tell that Emma wasn't in the mood to make pleasant conversation.

Taylor was sitting on the front porch with her mother when they pulled into the stone driveway that led up to their London house. It was nearly noon now, the sun was shining, and small drops of sweat were forming under the waistband of her leggings.

A pink three-ring binder sat on the table between the chairs Taylor and Andrea were sitting in, left forgotten when both women got up to go to the parked car. Andrea tugged Emma into a hug the second the door was open, leaving Taylor standing next to them, hands on her hips and her foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

"It's good to see you, dear. I brought you some hot chocolate from the cafe by the airport. I think it's cold now, but it might still be good. I'm glad you got to go visit your father, you must miss him."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you for the hot chocolate."

"Mom-" Taylor started, but Emma shot her a look to get her to stop talking. Andrea didn't know anything about her father, and Emma was content with keeping it that way. The little she knew about James was enough.

Andrea kissed her head and pulled away, moving to take her mother into a hug that lasted just as long. When the two women finally released each other, Andrea's face lit up like she had suddenly remembered something and she left them to go back to where she and Taylor were sitting without a word. Taylor shrugged and motioned for everyone to follow her mother. Andrea grabbed the binder and herded everyone through the front door.

The foyer was cleaner than it was when Emma had left that morning. Pillows on the small couches that lined the wall had been fluffed and months of dust had been removed from the tabletops. A couple pairs of shoes line the doorway, making the large white entrance to their house look more lived in and a little less like a display piece. The large chandelier that adorns the center of the room was turned off, but the room was still aglow with natural light from the tall windows along the wall.