Page 61 of We Are All Guilty Here

Emmy smoothed together her lips.

He said, “You should run.”

“It’s almost half-seven. The only thing I’m running is to work.” She stood up from her chair. “I’ve got too much on my plate right now to take on trouble. You need a ride?”

“Nope,” he said. “Talk it out.”

“Dad—”

Gerald held her in his gaze like a tractor beam pulling her toward the chair.

Emmy let out a long, frustrated sigh as she sat back down. They had started to do this when they were alone in his office, just the two of them, the people who never talked to anybody would talk to each other.

She tried, “Cole’s just spinning his wheels. I keep telling him to move out. He doesn’t need to be tied to his mother. He needs to get on with his life.”

“Set an example,” Gerald said. “Run for sheriff.”

“Dad.” She tried to think of a way to deflect him, but the words spilled out on their own. “I’m already losing Mom. The thought of losing you …”

“Still here.”

“But I need you here.” She put her hand to her chest, indicating not just her heart, but the chief deputy star that her father had pinned on her shirt when Virgil Ingram had retired. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, baby. But change doesn’t stop just ’cause you’re standing still. It’s gonna happen. You know that as well as me. Turn it into a good thing. Fresh blood. New ideas. Computers. Internet. Podcasts. Snapchat. Tic Tac.”

Emmy laughed. “Now you’re just listing things you hate.”

“Doesn’t make me wrong.”

“I don’t want it, Dad. I don’t know how to run a campaign. I don’t know how I could possibly ever replace you.”

“Somebody will,” he said. “Eventually.”

“Hey-hey-hey!” Tommy rapped his knuckles on the door as he sauntered into the office. He was filled with the relentless positivity of a teacher close to retirement. “What’s up, family?”

Emmy forced a smile. “Are you ever not a dork?”

“Are you ever not a brat?” Tommy’s hand rested on her shoulder. He wasn’t fooled. “Everything okay, kid?”

She nodded, but she felt ambushed. Tommy wasn’t here by happenstance. Obviously, Gerald had asked him to swing by before work. Emmy thought about the letter her father had been writing when she’d walked into his office. Was he resigning? Was he going to push her into making a decision? There was no wayEmmy was ready for this conversation. Not on two hours of sleep with a mother who was losing her mind and a son who thought he was Encyclopedia Brown.

“Okay,” Gerald said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Emmy’s eyes found Tommy’s. He shook his head. He didn’t have a clue whatthiswas.

He asked, “What’s going on, Dad?”

“Sit.” Gerald waited until Tommy was seated. Then he waited some more. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “It’s time.”

Emmy felt a different kind of tightness in her chest. This wasn’t about her. It was about Myrna.

“I broke my promise,” Gerald said. “Your mother told us what she wanted.”

The tightness turned into a crushing force. Emmy looked at Tommy again. He’d always called herthe Dad Whisperer, but this time, they both knew exactly what Gerald was talking about. The day after Myrna’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis was confirmed, she had called a family meeting. The request she’d made could not have been more clear—

“Promise me that you won’t try to keep me at home when it gets bad,”Myrna had begged.“Put me in a facility. Stick me in a shipping container and send me off to sea. I won’t know the difference, and I don’t want any of you living with me that way.”

“Dad …” Tommy’s eyes were wet with tears. “We can’t.”

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