Page 40 of Hooked on Emerson
“This was on your mom’s list too?” Emerson asked, passing her a bottle of water from his backpack.
She nodded, taking a sip before answering. “She loved being near water. Said it helped her think clearly. I guess I wanted to see if it would do the same for me.”
“And? Is it working?”
Ava considered the question, her eyes on the gentle movement of the pond’s surface. “I’m not sure yet. My thoughts are still tangled.”
Emerson nodded, not pushing. They sat in silence for a while, watching a pair of ducks glide across the water, leaving twin trails in their wake. A fish jumped nearby, the splash rippling outward in perfect circles. The sun climbed higher, burning away the last of the mist and warming their shoulders through their sweaters.
“I’m afraid,” Ava said suddenly, her voice quiet but clear in the still morning. “Of making the wrong choice. Of staying for the wrong reasons or leaving for the wrong reasons. Of waking up one day and realizing I’ve been living someone else’s life.”
Emerson was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “What does your heart tell you?”
“That’s the problem.” She plucked a small stone from beside the blanket, turning it over in her fingers. “My heart says different things on different days. Sometimes I look at the shop, at the town, at... at you, and I feel this rightness. Like I belong. Other times, I feel this restlessness, this need to see what else is out there, to find out who I am outside of Millfield.”
She tossed the stone into the water, watching the ripples spread outward. “How do you know which feeling to trust?”
“Maybe both are true,” Emerson suggested. “Maybe you can belong here and still need to explore. Maybe it’s not about either, or but both and and.”
Ava turned to look at him, surprise in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, his gaze on the horizon where water met sky. “Just that life isn’t always about clear choices. Sometimes it’s about finding a way to honor different parts of yourself.”
“That sounds wise but not very practical,” she said, a small smile softening her words. “Seattle is three hours away. That’s not exactly a commute.”
“No,” Emerson agreed. “But there might be other solutions. Temporary arrangements. Trial periods. Ways to test the waters without burning bridges.”
The idea hung between them, a possibility neither had fully considered. Ava’s fingers traced patterns on the blanket, her thoughts almost visible in the small furrow between her brows.
“Would you wait?” she asked finally, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. “If I went to Seattle, if I tried it for a few months... Would you still be here?”
The question caught him off guard, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. It was the heart of what lay unspoken between them, not just her decision to stay or go, but what it meant for whatever was growing between them.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I would wait.”
Ava’s eyes met his, searching for certainty, for truth. “Why?”
“Because what I feel for you isn’t conditional on you staying.” He held her gaze steadily, letting her see the honesty in his words. “It’s not about where you are. It’s about who you are.”
Her expression changed, a softening around the eyes, as there was release of tension she’d been carrying. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Emerson nodded, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, to close the small distance between them on the blanket. “Whatever you decide, Ava, it should be because it’s right foryou. Not for your mom’s memory, not for the town, not for me. For you.”
“But that’s just it,” she said, frustration edging into her voice. “How do I separate what I want from what everyone else wants for me? From what I think I should want?”
“By listening to yourself. By getting quiet enough to hear your own voice beneath all the others.”
She smiled ruefully. “Is that why you brought me to the middle of a pond? For the quiet?”
“Maybe.” He returned her smile, grateful for the momentary lightening of the mood. “Or maybe I just wanted to spend time with you without a leaky roof or nosy neighbors interrupting.”
They laughed together, the sound carrying across the water, disturbing a heron that had been fishing nearby. It rose with languid grace, wings spread wide against the blue sky, and glided to the opposite shore.
“We should probably head back soon,” Ava said after a while, though she made no move to get up. “If we want to make it to the bookstore.”
Emerson nodded, gathering the water bottles and tucking them back into his pack. They retraced their steps to the canoe, settling into their seats with more confidence than before. The paddle back was easier, their strokes synchronized, the canoe cutting smoothly through water.
As they approached the dock, Emerson shifted to secure the boat and climbed out first, offering his hand to help Ava onto the dock. This time, she didn’t let go immediately. Her fingers remained wrapped around his for a moment longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that still hummed between them despite the uncertainties.
