Page 6 of We Are All Guilty Here

“It went exactly like you said it would.” Emmy couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. Hannah had been walking the tightrope between caring adult and stepmonster for five years. “Sorry, I gave it a good try.”

“I appreciate it,” Hannah said. “God it’s weird. The meaner she is to me, the more I love her.”

Emmy couldn’t help but feel the same way. She had been best friends with Hannah since kindergarten. They had either seen or talked to each other practically every day since. Her love for Hannah had easily transferred onto the complicated girl that Hannah loved. “We were never like that, right?”

“’Course not, we were fucking perfect.” Hannah nodded up toward the bleachers. “What did Tinky-Winky have to say?”

Emmy snorted a laugh. Vanna looked a hell of a lot like a Teletubby in her purple dress. “Babies are a miracle from God.”

“She’s gonna shit all over herself when that thing rips out of her.”

Emmy pressed together her lips to keep from laughing again.

“Ten years from now, she’s gonna be at the Walmart and sneeze real hard and her uterus is gonna drop down between her legs like the clapper on a bell.”

“That’s very specific.”

“Happened to my aunt Barb’s friend.”

“The one with the mole?”

“Shit, I gotta go.”

Emmy watched Hannah run after her husband. Paul had been drinking off and on all day, consoling himself about Madison’s refusal to celebrate her birthday with the family. The poor guy could barely walk a straight line, especially with their two-year-old in tow. Emmy’s own cheeks burned with sympathy when she caught the embarrassed look on Hannah’s face.

“Emmy Lou?”

Her father’s deep baritone cut through the white noise of the crowd. She slipped her hat back on and walked in his direction.

Emmy tried not to think too hard about the new scratchiness in his voice. Gerald Clifton had turned seventy-four in January and suddenly, shockingly, her strong, capable father was wearing out. Bad knees. Bad back. Bad arthritis in his hands. Even the way he coughed had changed from a quick, short burst to a raggedy-sounding grumble.

Her mother wasn’t much better off. Myrna had been rushed to Atlanta four years ago for open heart surgery. She was constantly forgetting where she’d put her keys, who she needed to call, what had happened last week on her favorite TV show. Emmy’s brother had started showing his age, too. At fifty-one, Tommy spent nearly every weekend on the couch watching the golf channel and buying vintage hats off eBay.

Which left Emmy on her own as usual. She had been what was euphemistically called a surprise baby. Tommy was already in college when she was born, and her parents had buried two more children, first Henry, then Martha a year later, in between.Gerald had been too old to chase Emmy around the soccer pitch, and Myrna too set in her ways to change her schedule for game days and trips to the outlet mall. They were the only parents in Emmy’s grade who’d had to balance college loan applications against deciding when to start drawing social security.

Obviously, Emmy had always been aware of the age difference, but only now was the impact of the math occurring to her. She was hitting the prime of her life around the same time they were all sliding in the other direction. Even Tommy’s quirky wife, Celia, had started to slow down. She was a badass vice principal who ran half the high school, but she’d told Emmy last week that her idea of heaven was wearing pajamas all day and only leaving the house to swing by the Dairy Queen drive-thru.

“Emmy Lou.” Myrna appeared out of nowhere. Her expression was filled with disapproval as she handed Emmy the corner of a blanket to help fold. “Did you hear your father calling you?”

“I had no idea, Mother. I was just walking toward him for no particular reason.”

“That’s a very interesting tone you’re using. Do you mean to imply the opposite?”

“You could infer it that way.” Emmy finished folding the blanket. She knew exactly why her mother was giving her shit right now. “Go ahead and say it. I know you saw what happened with me and Jonah.”

“Saw it. Heard about it. Then heard about it again. And again.” Myrna gathered up another blanket and slapped the dirt off the back. “I’m not going to say I told you so.”

“That’s a very interesting tone you’re using.”

“From which you are welcome to infer my meaning.”

Emmy reflexively took up for Jonah. “His gig over in Macon ran late last night. He had to chase down the owner to get paid. He’s exhausted.”

“I believe you are capable of juggling full-time employment with child duties.” Myrna matched the edges of the blanket. “Meanwhile, Jonah couldn’t be assed to stick around long enough for his son to see the fireworks.”

The chocolate-covered ice cream cone. Jonah had bought itin town. Emmy was going to kill him. “He said he was going to drive Cole up to the Falls to get a better look.”

“Did he now?”

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