Of course, that was before he started looking for her.
He knew she left only because of where she ended up. It was different when she first went to college. Younger than the other students and with a completely different educational history because of her tutors and bouncing from school to school as she grew up, Emma didn’t immediately fit in. Not that she wanted to melt into the campus and be like the rest of the students. There were far more important things on her mind. She had changed by then. Gone was the wistful, always longing look in her eyes that held all the art she wanted to create. Those eyes once brimmed with paintings and sketches waiting to be committed to paper. The very hum of her breath and the beat of her heart was music. Her lithe body danced with every movement.
But the art that crafted her was gone by the time she stepped into her first college class. That part of her died along with her mother. There was always a feeling that life was designed for her. From the moment of her birth, her future was chosen. She was given freedom. She was told to be who she was and discover what she loved. But there was always the sense she was being prepared for something. It was impossible not to. The fight was in her blood.
It took not knowing what happened that night, when she sat on the stairs and watched her mother wheeled out of the house beneath a white sheet, to push her onto the path toward this future. A future that didn’t fit in Sherwood. He knew that feeling. He didn’t fit there anymore, either. She didn’t know he watched her that night. She didn’t know how he tried to take away all the obstacles in her life.
In a way, he knew what it felt like for her to come back. Sherwood had once been a comfortable place, a place where they were welcome, where they fit. But not anymore. Not for either of them. He thought she’d never go back there. She didn’t interfere with the house there. She didn’t go back for her high school reunion or for the weddings, babies, funerals, and gatherings that marked life marching on for those who stayed within the town.
She never went back for the man who knew her maybe too well.
He missed so much. Years of not being able to be near her, no matter how much he wanted to. Things changed too much. It became too dangerous. All because of that one night. The night he waited for, planned for, readied himself for. It went wrong, and she slipped through his fingers.
Not again. He wouldn’t let it happen again. That’s why he had to be careful. He had to bide his time and be patient. Everything had to be perfect this time. It all had to fall into place just right. Then he could return and have what was his.
Her being back in Sherwood made it that much harder. Even stepping foot into Sherwood was risky. It was her face on the TV screen that told him where she was. Sitting in the tiny, dark room of a hotel that didn’t ask for his identification, he turned on the news and saw her standing beside that face from the past. She got herself entangled in another case and unraveled it in a way no one else could.
He was proud of her. But he couldn’t get near her. Not in Sherwood. He’d wait. He’d give her time to tie up the loose ends and then go back home. Home to the house bought so she could go to school. That’s where she was when he was finally able to look for her, and that’s where he would wait for her to return.
But she didn’t. She didn’t come back, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Too many years kept him away from her before, and he didn’t want that to happen again. He had to protect her. He was the only one who could. She might not understand why he did the things he did, but one day she would. One day it would all be so clear to her.
He could only be in town for short bits of time and had to stay away from as many people as he could. Someone might see his face and know who he was. They would reach back into their memories, and find his features, find eyes that had looked at them before. That couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let even a single person recognize him. Or think they did. If they did, they might mention it to Emma. It would be too much for her. She didn’t know. She never knew.
He didn’t think he would have to wait for long. She should have finished what she was doing with the case and returned to the house where her life was waiting for her. But she didn’t. She stayed and stayed. There were no hearings to draw her back. Not even the police assigned to watch her house made her come back. They were still there. Still taking turns rotating through positions to wait for something to happen. None of them knew what they were waiting for.
He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed to see her, to make sure she was alright. He felt so guilty for all the time they were apart, and for not being able to be with her now. Someday he hoped she would understand. She would know everything he had to go through. All he did to build the life she would one day get to have. It would be worth it then.
That’s when he went to Sherwood. He stayed in a hotel far outside of town and drove a car that didn’t stand out. He dressed in nondescript clothes and wore a hat or sunglasses. It afforded him the brief visits into town to catch glimpses of her and find out why she was still there. He walked along the sidewalk at dawn and drove the street in the twilight. Something had to be done. Something had to draw her away. There was too much at risk with her here.
Chapter Four
I’m fairly certain part of taking a leave of absence from work is supposed to be about getting extra sleep and staying in my pajamas for a good portion of the day. There have been a few days when I’ve happily taken up the offer of staying in my pajamas, but stretching out the hours of sleep just hasn’t kicked in. No matter how much I will myself to linger in the covers, my eyes are open before first light, and there’s nothing I can do to convince myself to keep sleeping. This morning I had my head buried under the pillow for almost an hour before I finally gave up. There’s really no point in trying.
Waking up early is just part of me. Instilled in me when I was young, it only became more important in college and then in training for the Bureau. Becoming an agent is extremely challenging for anyone. A woman just barely at the minimum age to take on the position is at a disadvantage in more ways than one. Slicing off hours of sleep and reallocating that time to working out and studying got me to where I am.
Which currently is standing at the living room window gripping a mug of coffee and watching the rest of the street try to wake up. There are a few others who catch the first moments of the day like I do. Vanessa at the end of the street is a baker and drives away from her little red house and the husband and three children sleeping inside well before the sun comes up. Two of the elderly neighbors down the other side of the street often greet the sunlight gardening or sitting out on their porch like they can’t stand the thought of missing even a single second of the day.
Then there’s the jogger. At least, that’s how I think of him. He doesn’t really jog. It’s more of a stroll, his hands stuffed in his pockets and the hood of a sweatshirt pulled up over his head. It’s only a few days into September, and the last couple of weeks have seen the temperatures in the early mornings dip low enough to justify the hood. But it’s still strange. He walks by every morning and disappears around the corner at the end of the street. I don’t recognize him, and he never pauses to wave when he does see one of the neighbors who happens to be up at the ridiculous hour.
It’s raining this morning, so I don’t expect to see him. Chilly raindrops running down the back of your neck is not the most invigorating way to start the day. Just looking at the gray sky strangling what little bits of sunlight are trying to shine and listening to the droplets falling to the grass makes me want to curl up in a quilt on the couch and not move for a while. Today would be the perfect day to marathon old movies. Since coming here and going back to sleeping in a bed, I haven’t been lulling myself to sleep with the familiar favorites. It would be nice to have a visit with them.