“My dad’s side is from Canada. My mom, from the states. They met when she was pretty young. The way my dad tells it, it was love at first sight. My mom just rolls her eyes.” He grinned at me between brisk scrapes. He made quick progress, stripping the boards of paint. I struggled to keep up with him as I trailed behind with the broom.
“My dad’s brother lives in Canada with them at the Compound.”
I stopped sweeping and looked at him.
“It’s a collection of old buildings; the community I grew up in. It has been struggling for decades to support itself while keeping away from the corrupt influences of the outside world,” he said with a hint of humor.
“Corrupt?”
He quickly swiped around the window. “Some believed that humans would lead the world to devastation through their wars, pollution, and overpopulation. They thought, by withdrawing from it, they could save themselves.”
“The day my mom showed up, about thirty years ago, changed the direction they’d been headed. She made them see they were hurting themselves by hiding from the truth. They’d created their own distrust by not learning about the changes they were scorning and made it harder for future generations to rejoin the world. That’s part of the reason they sent me back here to live with Nana Wini.
“The more of us who leave to learn about the world, the better it is for others when we go back and share what we learned. The money we earn doesn’t hurt, either. Part of the reason I know what I’m doing here is because I grew up helping with this kind of work back home.”
We rounded the corner, and he began scraping on the front of the house. Behind us, I left neat little piles of paint chips.
“My mom started making improvements as soon as there was money, and she hasn’t stopped. People actually have beds to sleep in now.” He looked at me after he said the last piece as if he wanted to take it back.
How horrible to be so poor that there wasn’t even beds to sleep in. After Blake appeared in my life, I’d found the opulence of Richard’s house distasteful as it represented a way of life I wanted nothing to do with. Clothes, food, an exercise room. Everything had been high-end and bought at the price of my freedom. I’d run from it, willingly risking a potential future without beds, warmth, or food, to save us all from a worse fate. And poverty would have happened, if not for Emmitt.
I reined in my thoughts. “So the remodeling inside, the painting outside, you learned all this from your mom?”
He nodded, looking adorable with paint flakes dusting his hair. “Can I ask you a question now?”
Reluctantly, I nodded. I didn’t promise to answer it, though.
“Will you tell me about your stepfather?”
I sighed and stopped sweeping again, remembering how it’d been in the beginning. “It was just me and my mom until after my thirteenth birthday. She met Richard through a friend of a friend.”
“Richard?” he asked, looking puzzled.
I nodded and realized I’d never mentioned Richard by name before. “He was nice. He treated my mom well, and I think he really loved her. Then, things changed.” Things I wasn’t ready to share with Emmitt.
My premonitions had struck. I hadn’t understood what I’d been seeing and wrote it down on paper to show my mom. By that time, they had married and were expecting their first child. Richard had found the paper and known what it was. He’d been amused by what I’d written, but after seeing the accuracy of my predictions, he’d started to use them. He hadn’t demanded anything from me, just said I could give them to him when I thought of any more.
Everything had been fine for a while. We’d moved into a better house, the one in the gated community. We’d been happy. Liam was born, time passed, I went to school, had friends, went on my first parent-supervised date, and my mom got pregnant again.
I wasn’t sure how Richard got involved with Blake, but he had; and Blake had started coming to dinner. My mom had disliked him immediately. Seeing past events clearly for the first time, I understood how much Blake had truly controlled our lives. It had started with my mom’s death. An accidental death that I could now see wasn’t so accidental. Blake had killed her just as he had Richard. After she died, Richard had become Blake’s lackey.
“How did they change?” Emmitt asked quietly, watching me closely.
I’d daydreamed through half the front of the house. I shook myself and finished sweeping quickly.
“My mom died just after Aden was born,” I said softly, remembering how alone I’d felt. “Richard shut us away from the world for four years.”
Emmitt had stopped scrapping and studied me closely.
“Richard. Then, who’s Blake?”
With Blake’s identity firmly glued to my secret, at least in my head, I couldn’t talk about him without everything spilling out. I didn’t want to tempt Emmitt with the power he could gain by possessing my premonitions. I didn’t want him to turn out like Blake.
“I have to check on the boys,” I said in a rush. I leaned the broom against the wall and fled.
I sequestered myself with my brothers for the rest of the day. The other occupants of the house let me be.
Chapter 9
Emmitt knocked on my door the afternoon following our talk. The boys were outside playing, and I was alone. I quietly backed away from the door. It seemed every time we spent time alone, I let too much slip. We needed distance. I needed distance. So, I snuck to the bathroom and avoided him with the skill of a master thief.
After his footsteps faded in the hallway, I risked a quick look out the bathroom door. The sunlit pattern of the French doors on the kitchen floor caught my eye. The island blocked a good portion of it, but not the top half. The shadow of a man drifted through the bright patch. I spent the afternoon reading on the toilet.
It proved more difficult to avoid Emmitt the following day. He stood outside the apartment door when the boys ran out in the morning. Stunned by his unexpected appearance, I gapped at him for a moment before my brain kicked in.
“I have to take a shower,” I said in a rush then slammed the door in his face.
I stayed under the hot spray until my fingers pruned, then I crept around the apartment, stealthily checking the windows and doors. When time passed without spotting Emmitt, I changed into my swimsuit and grabbed a book. No more toilet reading. My legs had gone numb the day before. I eased open the French doors and tiptoed onto the porch.
The warm summer air surrounded me, and I took a slow, deep breath and shook out my blanket.
“Michelle?”
The sound of his voice directly behind me almost made me scream. Heart hammering, I clutched the blanket to my chest and spun to face him. My master thief skills were more like apprentice level. I caught a glimpse of his hurt expression before he smoothed his features into a carefree mask of indifference.
“I need to go into town for more paint soon. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and help pick out the color.” His eyes held mine as he spoke. He stood a few feet from me, wearing paint splattered cargo shorts and an equally colorful printed shirt. A brush hung from a loop on his shorts.
I didn’t answer immediately, and he tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting. My stomach did its weird flutter. After talking to Nana, it felt more like a tug. It made me nervous all over again. Why did I react like that to him? It had to be the reason I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut.
“I’ll pass. I’m more comfortable here,” I mumbled. Riding to town to get paint meant taking the car since Jim had the truck. Thinking of any amount of time in the confines of Nana’s little putt-putt, alone with Emmitt, did funny things to my insides.