Page 74 of Ten Christmases Without You
His skin was almost translucent, and the dark circles under his eyes gave away the struggle he’d just been through. While he was awake at times, he was nowhere near out of the woods. The nurses had already explained that if he could remain stable, he’d have a long recovery ahead of him.
A pinch of panic took hold. She couldn’t lose this man. She needed him too much. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I keep getting visions of your mom,” he said out of nowhere, “and your face goes in and out on hers. She’s her, then you... It’s odd.”
Emmy wrinkled her nose. “That is odd.” She straightened his blanket. “Speaking of Mom, you were kind of out of it at the time, but you mentioned earlier that you saw her washing dishes, and she said that you needed to tell us. Tell us what?”
His face turned white, his eyes round. “Did I say anything else?”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Well, I don’t know what it was.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Madison said.
His reaction was surprising. Was there something he wasn’t telling them?
The question lingered in Emmy’s mind all the way back to her sister’s house, as she got ready for bed, and until she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Morning,” Jack said when Emmy came into the family room the next day.
“Good morning.”
Emmy took a seat on the edge of the sofa and set her mother’s design book on her lap. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled in the gray of early morning.
“The clouds are rolling in,” she noted.
“Yeah, a pretty big snow is predicted. If you get snowed in, you’re more than welcome to hang out with us for a few weeks.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Where’s Madison?”
“She had to run out. She’s picking up some things.”
“Oh.”Groceries.She’d forgotten.
“Are you hungry? I can make some breakfast. I was planning on pancakes.”
“I think I might scoot out to that coffee shop again before I pop in to see my dad. The time alone clears my head.” She held up her mother’s book. “I have some reading.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I’ll only be out a little while. Need anything while I’m out?”
“No, thanks.” He got up from his chair, and Emmy followed suit.
Her mind was still absorbed by her thoughts about last night. She’d gone round and round with questions that had no answers: Why had her mother said so little about her past? Why had Mitch been uptight about her mother early on? Why had her dad looked positively panicked when she’d said he needed to tell them something? She was busy speculating while she climbed into her rental car and headed to the coffee shop.
When she got there, she settled in at the same table with a cinnamon latte and opened her mom’s book. While Christmas music jingled above her, she flipped through the pages, delighted to find that it was more of a scrapbook of sorts. She had designs, but also magazine clippings, notes, and endless pages of journaling.
The first few pages were drawings Emmy had never seen. Each sketch carried new weight after spending a year in the industry. Her mother had written notes on the silhouettes and cuts that she’d sketched. Emmy took note of the tailoring details.
She took a drink of the warm latte and flipped the page, reading her mom’s handwriting that labeled vintage fashion references under fabric swatches and texture samples, tear-outs from fashion magazines, and photos of street style and runway looks. The book was like a manual for how to design, and Emmy was incredibly lucky that her dad had found it.
The next page was a montage of art, architecture, and nature images that must have inspired her mother’s designs. She scanned the grainy photos of Parisian moldings and landscapes.
Just as she was about to turn the page, a particular photo caught her eye. She set her coffee down and leaned in, squinting at the image of a rainy street. Was that Rue des Lumières d’Automne, the street from the note in her mom’s clutch? It was a different angle from the view she’d seen on the internet, so it was difficult to tell. It definitely looked similar. Then, somethinghit her:rain. Vivienne’s comment floated back into her mind.Rain. Lots of rain. There’s nothing there anymore, dear.
