The Book of Luke (25 page)

M
y mom used to take me to the Park Plaza Hotel when I was little. We’d go there for afternoon tea in Swan’s Café so she could observe lapses in etiquette for future article and book ideas. I used to love dressing up like a “lady,” as my mom called it, and sitting behind the gilded railing overlooking the lobby. With the starched table linens and fine china, I couldn’t help but feel like I was supposed to sit perfectly still, my shoulders thrown back. Even now, I immediately sat up a little straighter, aware of my shoulders and chin (imagine a piece of string running up your spine through your head and into the sky, and then imagine pulling the string until you’re sitting absolutely straight—weird, I know, but it works).

I used to pretend I was a princess, although without the fabulous wardrobe and prince standing below my window calling my name. But right now there definitely wasn’t a prince who wanted to be within one hundred miles of me.

On the ride into the city I kept thinking about what my mom said last night, how she’d never even told my dad that she didn’t want him to stay behind while we moved.

“Don’t you want Dad to come home?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” she answered.

“So why don’t you call him and tell him that.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, Em,” she told me. “One phone call isn’t going to make everything all better.”

Even though she didn’t give me a reason, I knew why. She was afraid of looking foolish or seeming desperate or, even worse, hearing the answer she didn’t want to hear.

“It can’t hurt,” I encouraged. “Just tell him how you really feel. What’s the worst thing that can happen? He’s already not here.”

My mom didn’t answer right away. “I’ll think about it.”

While I was dispensing some well-earned advice to my mom, I figured I may as well take it myself.

I held on to the door’s armrest and prepared for my mother’s reaction. “I don’t think I want to go to Brown.” There, I’d said it.

“Did you get in?” she asked, as if she’d missed something.

“No, the letter hasn’t arrived yet. But even if I do, I don’t want to go.”

She flipped on her blinker and changed lanes. “Okay.”

Wait a minute, did she really just say okay? “Okay? Didn’t you want me to go to Brown?”

“I want you to go where you want to go. I thought you wanted to go to Brown, so I was all for it. Where are you thinking of now?”

Her reaction threw me for such a loop I wasn’t prepared to answer. “Maybe Smith. I don’t really know, I thought I’d wait and see before I decided.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Whatever you choose, I’m sure it will be the right decision.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Have you made a decision about calling Dad?”

She glanced over at me and smiled. “Emily.”

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me now,” I assured her. “But whatever you choose, I’m sure it will be the right decision.”

After the seminar and lunch, Mom dropped me off at home and went to the grocery store to do some shopping.

“Isn’t there anything to eat around here?” TJ asked, opening and shutting kitchen cabinet doors. “I’m starving.”

“Mom just went to the store.”

“Why don’t you just call Luke?” TJ asked, peering into the near-empty refrigerator.

“Just call him?” I repeated, expecting TJ to turn around and provide a more detailed explanation for this bizarre suggestion. “You mean, just pick up the phone and say, ‘hey, what’s up,’ like nothing’s happened?”

TJ nodded, still looking into the refrigerator and not at me, and reached for a carton of lemonade. “That’s what I said. I know you think he’s a dick, but last night I ran into Luke at the movies and he wasn’t looking all that happy. He even asked me how you were doing.”

“He did?” A slew of emotions swirled through me. Relief. Excitement. Confusion. But the one that I clung to the hardest was hope.

God, I hoped TJ wasn’t mistaken. “Are you sure?”

TJ rolled his eyes at me. “I think I can remember a conversation I had less than twenty-four hours ago, Emily. Just because I’m not on the honor roll doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

“I never said you were an idiot,” I replied, to which TJ just rolled his eyes again and started drinking out of the lemonade carton. “So, what did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth.” He stood there gulping down the last of the lemonade while I waited for his answer. Finally he put down the carton and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “Look, I’m not the bad guy here. You’re angry at Dad, you’re angry at Sean, you make a freaking guide outlining in detail everything that’s wrong with the male species. Why can’t you just admit you were wrong?”

“I was the one who threw away the guide,” I reminded him, sounding more defensive than I’d intended.

“Why can’t you just admit that there doesn’t always have to be somebody to blame? That sometimes it’s not as easy as picking who’s right and who’s wrong?”

“I don’t do that.”

TJ just rolled his eyes at me, as if to say, “Yeah, right.”

“
W
hat are you doing here?” I stopped in the kitchen doorway and thought maybe I was seeing things. It was Sunday morning and there was my father standing at the kitchen counter with a package of Thomas’ English muffins in one hand and a jar of jelly in the other.

“I got in late last night. I didn’t want to wake you or your brother up. Do you want an English muffin?” my dad asked, pushing down the toaster knob. “I’m making one for your mom.”

The father who had been absent for four months was now offering to make me breakfast. “Sure.”

“Eggs, too?”

“Why not?” I nodded, not exactly sure what was going on. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

I went upstairs, but I didn’t get dressed. I went to find my mom.

“What’s Dad doing here?”

“Moving in.” My mom continued making her bed, as if she wasn’t the least bit surprised that my father was in our kitchen wielding a spatula and toasting English muffins.

“And how did this happen?” I asked.

“Why don’t you ask him?” she suggested and I headed downstairs to do just that.

“So, your mom tells me you’ve had quite a week.”

I took a bite of my English muffin and nodded. I made sure to lean over my plate so the grape jelly didn’t land in my lap, and I couldn’t help thinking of Josie.

“I’m not sure I’m done being mad at you.” I glanced down the hall, looking for my dad’s suitcase.

“The rest of my stuff is being shipped,” he told me. “And I know you’re angry with me.”

I took a deep breath and forged on. “Why didn’t you move with us? Why did you decide to come home now?”

He put down the paper and looked up at me. “I’m more than willing to tell you, Emily. I only wish you’d given me a chance to explain.”

I put down my juice and waited. “I’m listening now.”

“I don’t know if this is going to make any sense to you, but things change, people change, and sometimes that’s hard. You’re about to go off to college, and TJ will be gone, too, in a couple of years. Your mom and I thought a change of scenery would be good, but when it came time to move, I think we both realized that it wasn’t where we lived that made a difference. It wouldn’t change the fact that things were going to be different no matter where we were.”

“And?”

“And I guess I’m sorry that I didn’t explain that sooner. When your mom told me to stay in Chicago and figure things out, I just—”

I cut him off before he could finish. “
Mom
told you to stay in Chicago?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “She thought that maybe some time apart would make things clearer.”

One thing was definitely clearer. “So Mom’s to blame for all this?”

“Nobody’s to blame, Em. There doesn’t have to always be a finger pointed. Sometimes life is like that.”

Sounded eerily like he was telling me that “shit happens.”

I took a sip of my juice and considered what he’d just told me. “Well, I guess I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain.”

“Now it’s your turn,” he told me.

“My turn?”

“Your mom told me what’s going on with Lucy and Josie. Any chance you can talk to them? Explain what happened?”

“I don’t know,” I told him, even though what I was thinking was,
Probably not
. “I blew it. They hate me, Luke hates me. They’ll probably never forgive me.”

“Well, why don’t you go see Lucy and give it a shot? It can’t hurt, right? It sure beats sitting around here wondering.”

Still, wondering if my friends would ever forgive me was way better than learning for a fact that they wouldn’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes you just have to take a chance and hope that people will make the right decision—Mom did and look what happened.” He held up his English muffin. “You get my famous English muffin and eggs and you didn’t even have to ask.”

I reluctantly nodded. “I guess so.”

“There’s no guessing about it. Go.” He pointed to the door. “Go tell them exactly how you feel.”

He was right, I knew he was. This wasn’t just going to blow over, and I wasn’t willing to give up on my best friends just because they seemed ready to give up on me.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I’ll give it a shot.”

My dad smiled. “Good.”

Before I turned to leave, I grabbed my remaining English muffin to take with me. “And Dad? Thanks for not cutting down the tree.”

My dad tipped his head to the right like he didn’t quite understand what I was saying, but I guess he wasn’t willing to question a thank you from someone who’d been holding a grudge against him for months. “You’re welcome, Emily.”

“What are you doing here?” I stared at the guy who answered the door, thoroughly confused. “Where’s Lucy?”

Owen stared back at me. “We were just hanging out. She asked me to get the door.”

“Who is it?” I heard Lucy call from down the hall before she poked her head around the door to see who Owen was talking to. “Oh.”

Sometimes events conspire to make a person feel like she’s just had enough. First the Luke thing, then Josie, my dad shows up, and now Lucy and Owen.

Looking at Lucy standing there next to Owen, it was almost like seeing her for the first time. Really seeing her, not the girl who’d been my best friend in sixth grade, but the girl who was my best friend now—at least I hoped she still was. And by seeing Lucy, I saw all of us—the three of us. Lucy wasn’t just the girl who was going to Duke on a soccer scholarship, Josie wasn’t just the girl who carelessly went through guys, and I wasn’t just the girl who was nicer than everyone else. Lucy liked Owen, Josie had really cared for Luke, and I was the girl who was capable of hurting her best friends.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I told her. “I didn’t know you’d have company.”

Lucy stood there deciding what to do. “Do you want to come in?” she finally asked.

Lucy led us into the family room. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I glanced at Owen.

“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of him,” she told me, crossing her arms over her chest like she was preparing for a fight. “He knows what happened.”

Obviously.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I never meant to hurt you or Josie.”

Lucy thought this over before responding. “What I don’t get is why you just didn’t tell us you really liked Luke.”

“I don’t know. I guess I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

Lucy grimaced. “Well, it seems that happened anyway, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

She dropped her arms to her sides and I took that as a sign that she was softening.

“I never would have lied to you if I thought it would turn out like this,” I continued.

“How did you think it would turn out?” she asked.

“I don’t know, just not like this.”

Lucy bit her lip. “You know, we probably would have understood. I just wish you’d been honest with us, Em.”

“Me, too,” I conceded. “Believe me. If I could do it all over again, it would all be different.”

“You really need to talk to Josie,” Lucy told me. “You meant a lot more to her than Luke ever did, you know.”

I hoped that was true.

We all stood there silently for a few minutes, and I could tell that Owen wished he could disappear. I knew exactly how he felt.

“Well,” I began, not sure what I should say, “I guess I should get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Owen offered, following me out of the room.

“Is Luke still pissed at me?” I asked him, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

Owen nodded and opened the front door for me. “What you did was shitty,” he said. “Luke didn’t deserve it.”

“I know, Owen. I messed up. I know.”

“Well, I hope Josie understands because I don’t think Luke ever will.”

I started to walk out the door, but Owen called me back. “And Emily?”

I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Luke apologized to Josie, just like you asked him to.”

Lucy was just the first stop, sort of a warm-up on my groveling road show. Only it didn’t occur to me until I was face-to-face with the script
H
on the Holden’s black gate that I’d actually have to be
let in
to see Josie. Thankfully, once I announced myself, Mrs. Holden buzzed me in. Either those meditation classes were making her incredibly Zen or Josie hadn’t told her what happened.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked when I found Josie in the stable with Ginger and Pinecone.

Josie whipped around to face me. “Who let you in?”

“Your mom.”

She turned her back to me and continued brushing Ginger. Or maybe it was Pinecone, I couldn’t tell the difference. “I thought the gate was supposed to keep out the undesirables.”

Josie obviously wasn’t planning to make this easy for me.

I decided to just get it over with before she had a chance to set off that CIA-endorsed security system and have me taken away in handcuffs for trespassing or something.

“Josie, I’m so sorry.” I stepped toward her, but she backed away.

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“I know it doesn’t make it any better, but I mean it. I really am sorry. I made a huge mistake.”

“You let me go on and on about how maybe Luke and I would get back together, and the entire time you knew that wasn’t going to happen. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Horrible.”

“Good guess.” Josie put down the brush. “You made me feel like an idiot, like my feelings didn’t matter.”

“They matter, Josie. Of course they matter,” I told her.

“Do you know what makes this so bad?”

I shook my head, even though I had a feeling I knew.

“Luke was just a guy, Emily. But you were my best friend. I expected more from you. You should have told me as soon as you knew, or at least tried to stop.”

“I never did it to hurt you, Josie.”

“I don’t know that I believe you, Emily. You were so hell-bent on not being the nice girl, you forgot that she was the person we liked. She was my best friend. I don’t even know the girl who slept with Luke.”

“It was me,” I blurted out, and then quickly added, “I mean, I’m the same person I was, Josie. I’m still your best friend. That hasn’t changed.”

“And what about Luke?”

“Look, I never meant for this to happen. I never intended to really like Luke.”

“So, you really do like him?”

I nodded.

“A lot?”

“Yeah, a lot,” I admitted, practically closing my eyes as I waited for Josie to start yelling at me.

Instead, she just asked, “Are you in love with him?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I guess I have my answer.”

“How I feel about Luke has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me, Emily. It’s almost like you didn’t want to believe me when I told you maybe Luke and I should get back together. Like you couldn’t believe that I’d actually like someone for real.”

“I didn’t plan to hurt you, Josie.”

“I want to believe you, Emily. I really do.”

“Then believe me.”

“Did you know that Luke apologized to me for the whole e-mail episode?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I’m assuming you had something to do with that?” Josie absent-mindedly stroked Ginger’s—or Pinecone’s—mane.

I nodded again and hoped I was right. “I thought you didn’t like the horses.”

“They’re not so bad, I guess. But I’m still never going to be some superstar equestrian like my mom wants.”

“That’s okay,” I told her, thinking that I was never going to be the type of person who could hurt her friends and not care.

“I was afraid of losing you and Lucy if I told you the truth,” I admitted. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Emily.” She actually seemed like she meant it. “I could never hate you.”

I so wanted to believe her.

Josie shook her head at me. “I’m just not sure I can forget what you did.”

“I’m not asking you to forget, just maybe forgive.”

“Here.” Josie tossed me another brush. “I could use some help.”

“Is this Pinecone or Ginger?” I asked, rubbing the brush against the horse’s neck in the same circular motion as Josie.

“You know what?” she confided, and for the first time since I arrived she cracked a small smile. “I have no idea.”