Page 129 of Tasting Fire
“How can you possibly think that? The Kingstons are one of the closest, most loving families I’ve ever met.”
“Sandy Kingston is a poor excuse for a mother. Running off to work with a bunch of ditchdiggers instead of staying home and taking care of what God had blessed her with. Five. Five of them, and she couldn’t see what she’d been given. Selfish bitch.”
Emmy’s face tightened and she made a fist.
Don’t do it, Em. Don’t risk yourself just because this woman has gone mental.
It didn’t matter what Karen Southerland said about his mom, because Cash knew the truth. Only two people who loved each other the way his parents did could make the amazing life they had.
Just like he and Emmy were going to do just as soon as they got out of this mess.
A sliver of compassion for Mrs. Southerland made Emmy want to reach out and soothe the woman. But even more than that, she wanted both Cash and herself to make it out of this insanity alive.
When the woman had spouted her crazy I-should’ve-been-Cash’s-mama bit, he’d stopped his approach, just stood there out in the open like a prey animal that had spotted a crocodile at the water’s edge. And even though Mrs. Southerland loved him—in the only wacked-out way she knew—if she spotted him, Emmy had no doubt she would shoot him.
So Emmy bent at the waist to meet the woman’s gaze. Use a little of the psych training she’d received as a resident. “I can see why you would feel that way.”
“Don’t humor me.”
“I’m not. It must be so painful not to be able to have children of your own.” It was a guess, but one worth throwing out there.
“You have no idea. In fact, you probably won’t have any trouble even though you’re just as selfish as Sandy Kingston is. People say ‘You can adopt.’ I wanted babies from my own body.”
Ah. So this wasn’t so much about a magical vagina as it was about a functional pair of ovaries.
Emmy’s heart twisted. It had to be hard as hell to have something you wanted so badly be permanently out of your reach. To have it color and corrode everything you could’ve found joy in.
Then again, wasn’t that what she’d done to a similar extent, if not outcome? She’d allowed her father’s death—his murder—to steal her capacity to live an imperfect, joyful life. Had allowed it to cement her belief that if one major thing in life didn’t go the way she wanted, she had to do everything she could to somehow compensate for that.
No wonder she hadn’t ever been able to find a balance between her work and her life. She was the one waging the damn war this whole time.
Realizations later. Action now. She flickered a meaningful look up at Cash. She needed him to disarm Mrs. Southerland. And the best way to give him time to do that was to keep her talking.
“You probably would’ve been a much better mother than Sandy.”
Oh, yeah. She’d made the right call. The other woman’s shoulders relaxed.
“Of course I would have. That’s why none of it makes any sense. That woman. She let her kids do anything they wanted, and she ran all over that nice husband of hers. How he could stand to stay with her and raise her children, I have no idea.”
Emmy believed the Kingstons had a family and marriage that was slightly before its time and in a very good way. “So you think Ross should’ve been the breadwinner and Sandy should’ve stayed home to raise the kids?”
“That’s the way God intended it. And she didn’t even recognize when He’d punished her, telling her enough was enough. No, she had to go ahead and have another one.”
Disgust filled Emmy. Was she really insinuating that Shep…
“He gave her a defective one. That was His sign to stop, but did she heed it? No, she just went ahead and had Riley. Granted, that girl might just be the smartest of them all. But Sandy should’ve known better after the retarded one.”
Emmy couldn’t chance a glance at Cash’s face, but she knew what was likely there—pure anger and disbelief that anyone would believe Shep Kingston had been some kind of cosmic mistake. And as much as Emmy wanted to come to Shep’s defense, nothing she said would change this woman’s mind.
So she nodded as if seriously considering the merit of Mrs. Southerland’s opinion.
From behind Mrs. Southerland, Cash rushed forward and chopped her on the forearm. She cried out, losing her grip on the handgun. Cash caught it, but didn’t grab the woman fast enough.
Hands curled into claws, she scrambled to her feet and charged toward Emmy. “You tricked me.”
Cash lunged as if to stop her, but Emmy snarled, “This is mine.”
She let the woman attack, but used her forward momentum to twist and roll so that Mrs. Southerland was on her back and Emmy was straddling her torso. She grabbed and pinioned the woman’s grasping hands. “If you don’t stop struggling, you’re going to force me to hurt you.”
