Page 16 of When We Were Young
She padded down the hall to the kids’ room. With practiced quiet she opened the door and looked at them. They were both asleep, unaware of the terrible weather, the fear from earlier gone. Emily felt the sting of her own tears again. Watching Aiden and Olivia tonight had been the saddest thing she’d ever done.
And Noah hadn’t even left yet.
What was the future going to be like for these two? For the three of them? She looked from Aiden to Olivia.Lord, we’ve made a mess of this family. It’s Noah’s fault, but it’s mine, too. I should’ve told him I needed a break from social media after Clara died. I can’t accuse Noah of pretending, when I did the same thing.The prayer got stuck there. It had been a while since she had prayed on her own like this.
Emily narrowed her eyes and looked through the dark room to her babies’ faces.Despite Noah and me, even with our failure, please, God, would You protect these two? None of this is their fault. Please, God. We all need a miracle.
Without making a sound she shut the door.
Outside the rain was settling down again, the way storms in early November often did. The humidity from early autumn was long gone, so the air was crisp. A preview of winter. Emily walked to the coat closet, grabbed her longest, warmest jacket and slipped it on. She headed out the back door and took a seat on the porch swing. It was far enough under the roof that it hadn’t gotten wet in the storm.
She pulled her coat close to her body. Noah had installed this swing the week they moved in. She could still hear him, still see the smile on his face. “Most people have a swing on theirfrontporch.” He laughed. “Not us. Know why?” He walked up to her and took her hand.
Their eyes held as if time had stopped.
“Because our front porch is too small?” Laughter had come easily for both of them back then.
“Not at all!” Noah spread his hand toward the swing and then the fenced grassy yard where Aiden was running in circles, chasing a butterfly. “This”—he grinned at her—“is the view I want when I’m on a porch swing.” He came close to her and kissed her. Slow and with a passion that they had taken for granted back then. “You’re the only view I ever want, Emily.”
His long-ago words died on the chilly night breeze.
Emily set the swing in motion, slow and easy. She never meant to fall in love with Noah Carter. Never meant to fall in love, at all. She and her sister, Clara. That was all she needed. Love would only hurt and cut and leave. Emily had been through enough of that.
The sky was still dark, not a star anywhere. More storms were forecast. Emily looked deep into the night and suddenly it all came back to her. Life as she’d lived it before Noah. Emily was a toddler when Clara was born, too young to remember. Too young to know why her mom looked sad so often or why her daddy was gone all the time.
Too small to understand that Clara had cerebral palsy, that she wouldn’t be like other little sisters. Not ever. Emily didn’t mind. She didn’t know anything else. Clara was her best friend as far back as she could remember.
Emily filled her lungs with the cold lonely air. Children had an uncanny ability to love, to look past the flaws grown-ups so easily noticed. Usually before they saw anything else. Emily wasn’t sure when she understood that Clara was different. That it wasn’t normal for a little girl to walk with braces on her legs and crutches in her hands.
All Emily knew was that she loved Clara. Loved her with a fierce protective kind of love that lasted every day of Clara’s life.
She blinked and the memories in her heart came alive.
Emily running slow on purpose, so Clara could keep up with her. Clara laughing, her eyes bright, as they sat on either side of the teeter-totter at the park. And the swings. Clara’s favorite part.
There she was, so close Emily could almost touch her. Little Clara, swinging high, her damaged legs dangling, very different from the way other kids looked. But no little girl ever smiled so big. “More, Emily. More!”
And Emily would push her again and again and again. Because when Clara was at the park she seemed so happy. “You’re flying, Clara,” Emily would cry out, celebrating with her sister. “Look at you!”
Their mom would always be nearby. On a park bench or right beside Emily taking turns pushing Clara. The three of them would laugh and talk about Peter Pan and Tinker Bell and how Clara was on an adventure every time she climbed in a swing.
An adventure to Neverland.
Those were Emily’s first memories. Clara and her, together all day, every day.
But at some point school interrupted those days. Clara was special, that’s what their mother said. So she had to go to a different school. Ride a different bus. Emily could remember climbing out of bed one night and finding their mother alone at the kitchen table.
Always alone.
“Where’s Daddy?” Emily sat in the closest chair, the hem of her white flannel nightgown low around her ankles.
“He’s out, honey.” Her mother smiled, but even as a child Emily could see how it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’ll be back soon.”
Her dad was always out, so Emily hadn’t worried too much about that. Instead she had gathered her thoughts, the reason she had left her bed that night. “I want to go to school with Clara.”
“What?” Her mother was kind, gentle. She put her arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Honey, you can’t do that. You’re doing so well.” Concern seemed to fill her eyes. “Mrs. Baker says you’re the smartest child in class.”
That didn’t matter to Emily. She shook her head. “I can be less smart, Mommy.” No words from a seven-year-old were ever more sincere. “Please. I want to be with Clara. She’s my best friend.”
