If Only, an emily of new moon series fanfic

If Only

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Emily of New Moon series

Perry Miller loved his new car. Not only was he proud that he could finally afford one, and of the dashing figure he cut on the road, but the sheer speed and power of it were what he enjoyed the most. Tonight, however, the rumbling purr of the engine seemed more distant than usual; the road was almost empty, and no matter how fast he drove, he couldn't seem to outrace his own thoughts.

Emily, glaring at him with her purple eyes. "How could Ilse have you as groomsman – when she hoped for years you would be the groom?"

At first he couldn't believe it. Then he was pleased – imagine that! He, a former hired boy from Stovepipe Town, had actually won the affections of a Burnley, one of the oldest families in Blair Water. But now...Ilse was marrying Teddy in three days. And that, for a reason he'd rather not identify, made him feel as if his car were skidding off the road.

The first time he saw her, he thought she was fascinating – a halo of bright golden hair, eyes like glowing bits of amber, and a sharp, vivid, catlike face. She was more beautiful than Emily, even. He'd had to remind himself quite often, during their acquaintance, that he liked Emily best. After all, it was by far the safer option – Emily was sarcastic, but polite, and with her sense of tact and diplomacy would make a far better politician's wife. Also, when she turned him down, she did it gently; Ilse (he'd thought) would be liable to bite his head off if he so much as looked in her direction. Of course, now that assumption turned out to be quite wrong.

He had never understood why Ilse would take such a violent dislike to him, just because his clothes were patched and he spoke his mind – after all, so did she, though she was a Burnley. But with Emily's explanation, it all made sense. "Do you think, if she hadn't liked you, she would have cared what grammar you used or what etiquette you smashed?" It was bizarre, but understandable.

He opened a window to let in a cool night breeze, hoping to calm his whirling thoughts a bit, and slowed the car in order to appreciate the landscape. Speed was all very well, but a moonlit summer night on a beach in Prince Edward Island was worth slowing down for.

Suddenly, among the silvery dunes, he caught a glimpse of red – a woman in a wine-red coat, standing with her hands in her pockets, letting her long golden hair blow back in the night wind.

He stopped the car.

Ilse turned around, flicking back her hair with unconscious grace, and walked over to him through the sand. "Speak of the devil," she said, giving him a wry smile. "Hello, Perry. What brings you out so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted. The truth – I was trying not to think about you and failing miserably – would hardly go down well with the wife-to-be of Frederick Kent.

"Enjoying my last hours of freedom," she said. What with the darkness and the moonlight, it was hard to see her eyes; he could not tell if she was being ironic or serious.

"I just hate the thought of this circus of a wedding," she grumbled. "The whole Burnley clan has descended on us, lock, stock and barrel, not to mention all of Blair Water gossiping about my dress and the reception. Tonight's my last chance to actually hear myself think."

Perry, impulsive as usual, heard his own voice saying something he was sure to regret later.

"Why don't you listen to yourself thinking in my car, eh? It'll be warmer."

"Um..." Ilse's hands flew up to her hair again, an unusually nervous gesture; then with a sudden, defiant toss of her head, she yanked the door open and jumped into the passenger seat. "All right. Now step on it, Perry; let's be as wild and crazy as speeding laws allow."

They exchanged wide, unholy grins, and Perry hit the gas pedal, dislodging a cloud of dust and sand. Ilse let out a shrill whoop, making them both laugh.

Wild and crazy, that was it; he'd always admired that about her. She wore flamboyant outfits, said and did scandalous things that made the Shrewsbury ladies' eyes go round; if girls were flowers, she was a sunflower among daisies – the brightest, boldest blossom of all.

"That red looks great on you," he said.

She plucked at it with faint distaste. "A gift from my future lord and master," she said. "I wanted pink, but no, he said darker colors are in fashion. Ah well, you know how it is; in a relationship, you have to compromise."

Perry snorted. "Didn't you throw the teapot at him?"

Ilse shook her head and gave a low chuckle which sounded anything but happy. "No. Teddy's no good in a row; he can never think of anything to say. He just squizzles up his eyebrows at me like Emily, and that makes me feel ridiculous. You see, I'm getting quite domesticated."

"And a darn shame too," Perry murmured to himself, not meaning for her to hear. She did, however, and lightly smacked the back of his head.

"No swearing!"

"Ow! Sorry."

They drove together in silence for a while. Ilse's hair looked silvery in the moonlight; now and then, her face was brightly lit by the headlights of another late-night traveler. She looked...like a woman, he realized; not his old, annoying friend-enemy-schoolmate, but an attractive stranger he had never really known. He was suddenly filled with a wave of unreasonable dislike for Teddy Kent, and seized with a strong wish to urn back time. If only he had figured it out earlier, would he still have chosen to love Emily?

The wedding was in three days – no, two days, he realized, looking at his watch. It was one a.m.

Suddenly the car felt stuffy; the silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Hey, remember my debate back in Shrewsbury?" Perry blurted out; the first thing he could think of to alleviate the tension. "Devil-opement. Ha!"

"I thought I'd never get you to say it right."

"But I still wiped the floor with the Queens team, didn't I? Say, Ilse...did I ever thank you for coaching me that time? You were a brick to do it, you know. Showing me how to project my voice and all that...I couldn't have done it without you."

She gave him a strange look he couldn't identify. "Oh? As I recall, it was Emily who won that debate for you. She looked at you just as you were about to start."

Perry squirmed. "I know. I was an ungrateful barbarian, like she said. No wonder you two wouldn't speak to me for days."

Could she be jealous? he wondered secretly. After all this time, can it be possible that she still...?

No. No way. She's about to be married, for Pete's sake!

"Perry...?" she said, in a soft, hesitant tone she had never used with him before.

He glanced at her; her face was tight with emotion, as if she were holding something back which she dearly wanted to say. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road.

"Yeah?"

"It's just...I'm sorry. I've been simply beastly to you all these years even when you didn't deserve it. I know I've got the Burnley temper, but if only...oh, never mind."

Perry was stunned – and, truth be told, touched. "Aww, Ilse - you don't need to apologize! I'm not such a wimp that a few hard names will hurt me. Besides, if you hadn't been such a stickler about grammar and manners, where would I be now? In Stovepipe Town with my old beast of an Aunt Tom. You helped me just as much as Emily did, if not more. Besides, fighting with you was fun."

"It was rather." She smirked at the memory. "I could always yell louder than you."

It suddenly struck him that they were using the past tense, as if it was understood that they would never fight again. Something about that was just wrong. Without the heart-pounding thrill of a no-holds-barred shouting match, without the sight of Ilse, incandescent with passionate rage, life would be like an Indian curry without spices. Bland and dull.

However, he had no wish to start a row right now. It was enough just to sit with her in the car, rushing past the world. Teddy would have Ilse for the rest of their lives – it was only fair for Perry to have this one moonlight spin.

They were in the village now, and the Burnleys' place was just around the corner. Perry swallowed a curse and slowed down the car; it shouldn't have to end so soon.

"Don't you wish we could go back?" said Ilse suddenly. She put her hand on his arm, then snatched it away as if he were a live coal. "Just be little kids again, playing in Lofty John's bush, with no worries and no responsibilities?"

"Hmm. But it's too late now." If you only knew.

She shook her head like a dog getting out of the water. "Right. Well, thanks for the ride."

"I wish you joy," said Perry, hating himself for the stiff, formal tone he was using.

Ilse grimaced, looking twelve years old again for a moment. "I swear, if one more person throws that stupid clichéd phrase at me, I'll punch them. Goodnight."

She exited the car as abruptly as she had entered, slamming the door.

As he drove away, Perry took one last look through the rearview mirror. She was standing on the curb, huddled into her coat as if for warmth, squinting against the glare of his car's headlights.

He cursed under his breath and turned the corner.