“The director of the Hourglass? Oh crap.”
Lily dropped into an empty chair, and the shop exhaled.
“She knows?” I asked Em.
Lily’s frown started in her eyes, spreading to her forehead and mouth like an afterthought.
Em worded her answer carefully. “She knows about the time travel thing, and what happened with your dad, and about the purpose of the Hourglass. I got permission from your dad to tell her that much.”
So she hadn’t given Lily specifics about other people’s abilities. Hopefully.
“What does he know about me?” Lily asked.
“Nothing,” Em answered.
“Nothing,” I repeated. “At all.”
Lily looked up at me balefully. “Except how my ass feels in your hand.”
A group of older women spilled into the shop, chattering in delight. Tourists, definitely, here to antique shop and soak up small-town atmosphere.
“I need to get back to work,” Lily said, scooting to the edge of her chair. “Pumpkin Daze is starting, and I have to stock the pastry case so I can go hand out candy.”
“Do you need me to stay and work?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Call me?” Em asked.
“After my shift.” She lifted her arms to adjust the apron strings around her neck, and then shook out her hair before catching it up in another knot. She caught me looking.
“What?” I asked, with a failed attempt at innocence.
“Did you need me to stand up? Twirl around?” Lily stuck her index finger in the air and made a spinning motion.
I had the good sense to respond by mumbling, shaking my head, and staring at the floor.
Chapter 8
Emerson’s expression was priceless as we filed out of the shop onto the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you grabbed Lily’s… You know, Kaleb, maybe you should start drinking organic milk. It has less hormones.”
The town square teemed with people and energy. The fall festival ran for the whole month of October, kicked off by the masquerade. Today was the Town Trick or Treat, and little kids rushed around everywhere, holding out bags and taking candy from shop owners and employees. A cauldron with individually wrapped chocolates sat unattended in front of Murphy’s Law.
“Exactly how much does she know about the Hourglass?” I asked Emerson.
A tiny ballerina in a purple tutu danced up and held out her bucket. I scooped some chocolates from the cauldron and gave her two. She smiled up at me with sparkly pink lips, exposing the space where her two front teeth should have been.
I gave her the whole handful.
“Lily knows everyone at the Hourglass has a time-related ability,” Em answered. “But I kept the details to myself.”
“We gave her specifics about travelers, but we didn’t go into anything else,” Michael said. His cell phone rang, and he read the caller ID. “Be right back. Hello?”
“Why were you and Lily apologizing to each other?” I picked up the cauldron and passed out more candy to a couple of boys with king-sized pillowcases bursting at the seams.
Em stared at Michael’s back and sat down on a bench flanked by flowerpots filled with yellow mums and purple pansies. “I can’t really talk about that.”
Even though I could sense emotions, I didn’t always know the cause of them. When someone was angry, it could be directed at me, something I did, or it could be because the Yankees won. If someone was afraid, it could be because of a social situation or because they were awaiting the result of a medical test. I hated never being sure.
Like with Em right now. I didn’t understand why I felt fear from her, especially fear wrapped up in guilt.
“Why can’t you talk about it?” I asked.
She dug at the concrete with the toe of her sneaker. “It would mean betraying a confidence. Not that I don’t trust you… it’s just… I can’t.”
I picked a piece of candy out for myself. “But Michael knows?”
Em hesitated for a brief second before answering. “Well, I had to tell him.”
“Sure you did.” Putting the cauldron back in its chair, I smiled thinly at her, turned on my heel, and walked away.
“Kaleb, wait!”
I’d just crossed the square, weaving through craft booths bursting with canned vegetables and jars of jam, as well as homemade candles and really creepy-looking dolls, when Emerson caught up to me in front of the Ivy Springs Cinema.
She grabbed my arm. “Please.”
Her face was so vulnerable, just like it had been the second before Poe had cut her throat open. The memory of her bleeding and broken on the ground made me soften. “What?”
“Michael’s known about this particular situation for a while… I’m not trying to hide anything from you on purpose. But I promised to keep a confidence and I can’t break it.”
Her raw honesty almost leveled me. This girl wouldn’t know betrayal if it punched her in the face. “You’re excellent at keeping your word. Aren’t you?”
Her hand was still on my arm. “I’ve never told him how you took the pain from me when we thought he was… dead.”
“You mean how I tried to take it.” I’d been completely willing to carry her grief for her, but she’d stopped me.
“What happened was between us,” she said. “And it’s not like it was a betrayal.”
I knew part of her felt it was. Taking emotion from someone was intensely personal. It created a strong bond. And with Emerson, it was a bond I didn’t want to break, even though I knew I had to.
“You can tell him. I want you to. It was your pain, your business,” I argued, when she started to disagree. “It’s your place to share that, not mine.”
“Only if you promise to talk to him about it after I do.”
I nodded. She’d tell him how it connected us. I’d have to promise to disconnect it.
“Soon. And you need to talk to your dad, too. After the way you argued with him today-he just wants what’s best for everyone.”
“I’m not ready to talk to my dad.” I stared at the line of movie posters on the brick wall in front of the theater. They must have been running a revival of some sort, because all of the posters advertised black-and-white films, with the exception of Gone with the Wind.
“He loves you. He’s proud to have you as his son. His only son.”
“Yeah.” He loved me. But he trusted Michael. Everyone did. The last thing I wanted to do was to get into that with Emerson.
A faint breeze brought the smell of caramel corn and cider. It sent Em’s hair flying, and she tucked it behind her ears. “Also, about Lily-”
“Oh no.” I shook my head. “You don’t get to yell at me now. Lily already took care of the shaming portion of the day. I won’t bother her again, swear.”
Em laughed. “I’m not worried about you bothering her. If you do, you’re the one who’ll be in trouble.”
I got a really strange feeling, and I looked around. We were in a crowd of people, but none of them were little kids in costume. The smells of the festival had disappeared and been replaced by the smell of popcorn.
“The line for the theater is really long,” I said, mostly under my breath. “What’s so exciting…”
“Everyone has on hats. Those are 1940s-style coats,” Em said slowly. “Hells bells.”
We looked up at the giant marquis at the exact same time.
GONE WITH THE WIND
MIDDLE TENNESSEE
PREMIERE TONIGHT AT 7:45
ADMISSION $1.10
“What do we do?” I asked, overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies lined up on the sidewalk. Em and I were the only modern people in sight. “Where did our Ivy Springs go? What happened?”