Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Emma opened her eyes to bright golden sunshine streaming through the window, illuminating an unfamiliar room. For a moment, panic rose in her throat. How on earth did she get here and – more importantly – where was "here"? Then the memory of everything that had happened came crashing down on her. Guerrero's decision to kill her, the total disaster with the Brax brothers, her forced relocation to the wilds of Canada…. For a moment Emma was torn between wanting to cry at the ugly mess her life had turned into and raging at the highhanded methods of Chance and his "team". She would have liked nothing better than to hop on the next plane back to her old life, but even she had to realize that with that damnable paper trail they had effectively trapped her.
Well, at least the house they had selected was okay. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it was the kind of house she might have chosen herself. But having it forced upon her was a whole different kettle of fish. Emma wondered if that was how someone in the Witness Protection Program might feel, thrust into a new identity and a new life.
With a deep breath, Emma climbed out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Emma supposed that the team's efficiency had included filling the fridge. She only hoped that she'd find something edible in there and not more rabbit food.
Last night she had been too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to give the interior of the house more than a cursory glance. Now she was relieved to find that someone had had the foresight to equip the kitchen with everything she might need. Including a coffee machine. After a little rummaging around, Emma even managed to locate a coffee jar. Anticipating a nice fresh cup of coffee, she opened the lid, but inside she did not find any coffee, only a note in decidedly female writing. In a few months you can drink all the coffee you want. Until then, stick to tea. Emma barely refrained from throwing the jar through the whole kitchen in a fit of rage. Instead she vented her frustration by tearing the note into very small pieces.
With a feeling of dread, Emma opened one of the cupboards to find quite an extensive selection of tea. Well, at least it wasn't only chamomile and fennel. Actually she wasn't averse to a nice relaxing cup of tea now and then, but right now, it was just one more thing that had been forced upon her. She decided not to spoil her mood any further by looking into the fridge. Collingwood had to have at least one supermarket, so she'd just go shopping after work. Work…. That was another point that really rankled. Not only did they have to choose a name for her that sounded like something straight out of an Agatha Christie novel, no, they had to go to great lengths to find her the most boring job possible – that of a librarian. Emma almost fumed thinking about that. Not that being a librarian was not a very honorable, rewarding occupation – it just wasn't a suitable job for her, child or no child.
Well, she'd just have to get breakfast on the way, she decided on her way back up to the bathroom to get ready. At least they had graciously allowed her to keep her own wardrobe.
About half an hour later, Emma was on her way to her new job in a nondescript compact car. Unlike the house it was certainly not the make and model she would have chosen herself, but it would do for now – and there was nothing keeping her from getting another one, once things had settled down and she could be sure that the team had more or less forgotten about her.
Her first conscious look at the town confirmed her worst fears. With the bright sunshine and cloudless blue sky, Collingwood looked like something straight off a picture postcard. She had to admit, if she were on vacation, she would probably love it for the contrast it provided to the hectic hustle and bustle of a major city like San Francisco or Washington, but the thought that she was supposed to live here for any length of time…. . Emma had been in her old job long enough to know that ugly things could hide behind even the most harmless façade, but for a moment she felt eerily reminded of the film "Pleasantville".
Finding a parking spot on the street, Emma took another deep breath to steel herself for the things to come. If nothing else, the job would provide her with a steady income for now. And since it was a library, it should offer any number of opportunities for research. Yes, Guerrero had warned her about not trying to go after the Brax brothers, and from what she already knew about them and what she had witnessed herself lately, she was inclined to heed the warning. But that didn't mean she couldn't try to find some other way to repay the "favor" of her relocation. Head held high she walked through the doors of the library, feeling absurdly like she was walking into a trap.
The first person she came across was a short, dumpy woman with iron-grey hair and a friendly smile.
"Good morning! How can I help you?" the woman asked.
"My name is Mildred Endicott. I'm supposed to start working here today." Emma answered, trying not to let the woman see just how much she didn't want to do that. It was a miracle she hadn't choked on the name.
"Oh yes, of course!" The woman practically beamed at her. "I'm Margaret Miller. Very pleased to meet you, Ms. Endicott. We've so been looking forward to your arrival. I had no idea it would be that difficult finding a Russian speaking librarian. We had applicants with pretty much every other language. We even had someone apparently fluent in Suaheli!. We had all but given hope of finding someone suitable. Imagine our surprise when we suddenly received your application. And since we will be working together, please call me Margaret. What exactly made you consider us?"
Oh great, an inveterate chatterbox. Just what she needed. Emma barely managed not to roll her eyes – at least not too obviously. Belatedly realizing that the woman waited for an answer, Emma frantically tried to come up with something that sounded at least half way believable. "A…. friend suggested that it might be the right place for me. I had a little trouble in my old job and needed a change of scenery….". There, that didn't sound too bad for a spur of the moment fib. At least Margaret seemed to be satisfied with it. Her eyes softened and her smile became more gentle and sympathetic than delighted, as if she sensed a hidden – and probably terribly romantic – meaning behind the words.
"Oh, that's nice. It's so good to have friends like that, isn't it?"
Emma almost snorted. Lady, if you only knew…..
"But here I am, prattling on as usual, when you haven't even really arrived. Please follow me, we'll get you settled and then I'll show you around. I'm sure you'll like living and working here…"
Margaret all but dragged her down a corridor, keeping up a running commentary of everything and nothing, from the history of the library to the social calendar of Collingwood and the suggestion that she might like to join one or the other of a variety of clubs and organizations 'to make a lot of new friends'. Emma felt so overwhelmed by the flood of words, that for the time being all she managed to do was try to nod in the right places. If that's what was going to await her here day in and day out, she would shortly be wishing that Guerrero had killed her after all…..
Later that afternoon, Emma arrived home after a day that had somehow been sedate and hectic at the same time. At least she had really found a supermarket, and a rather large and well-stocked one at that. As soon as she had mentioned the word shopping, the fountain of information that was Margaret Miller had provided her with information on every shop and store in Collingwood, including a number of outlets and shopping malls in the general area. Juggling two large paper bags filled with everything her heart desired – and she was pretty certain would not be found in her kitchen right now – she fumbled with the front door key. All she wanted was to drop the bags in the kitchen, make herself something to eat and then drown her sorrows in a nice long bubble bath. Thank God the bathroom had a tub….
She had just about finished putting everything away, when she heard a strange noise apparently coming from under the kitchen sink. Cautiously she crouched down and opened the cupboard door – only to frantically jump back as a pair of eyes apparently glowing in the dark under the sink looked back at her. When her heart rate had calmed a little and her breathing had returned to normal, she dared to take another look. A raccoon…. With all the things that had happened to her in the last few days, absolutely the last thing she needed was to come home and find a raccoon camped out under her sink. Washington had quite a large raccoon population, so that certainly wasn't the first one she had seen. But she also knew how hard it could be to get rid of them, once they had decided that something made for a good sleeping place. Emma closed the cupboard door again and started a search through the house for something she could use to shoo the animal out of its hiding place. Raccoons could become pretty aggressive, so she was certainly not going to just pick it up and carry it outside. But she had no intention of letting it stay under her sink either. She had to admit they were kind of cute, but she certainly didn't want to share her house with one….
After a couple of minutes she had found nothing more usable than a broom. Whoever had furnished the house had certainly not thought she'd become interested in gardening. No shovel, rake or garden hoe anywhere in or around the house. It looked like her only alternative was to go out and ask one of her neighbors…..
Outside she looked around, trying to decide which house to try. To the left of her, she could see a man in faded jeans and a t-shirt raking leaves in his front yard. Determinedly she walked over to him. Seeing her approach, the man stopped what he was doing, straightened up and shaded his eyes against the sun. For a second, he looked so much like Chance that Emma felt her heart skip a beat. Then she shook her head to get rid of the image and when she got a little closer, she breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the number of differences. Yes, he was tall and broad-shouldered and obviously in very good shape. And if she was honest with herself, he was rather good looking. But his hair was definitely more a light brown than blond and he certainly didn't have that indefinable air of carefully contained power. Just your average, nice, friendly, harmless neighbor.
"Hello, I'm Mildred Endicott. I just moved in next door and I have a little problem. Do you think you could help me?"
"Nice to meet you, Mildred Endicott. Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Matt Harrison. What exactly is your problem?"
Close enough to shake hands, Emma noticed that his eyes were a very nice shade of green. "I have a raccoon under my kitchen sink and no way to get it out of there."
"Actually that happens quite a lot around here. Usually they hide out in trashcans or garden sheds or something like that, but your house has been empty for some time, so I guess your little fellow decided it would make a good home. Give me a few minutes to get some gloves and a box and I'll get him out of there."
"That would be wonderful. I'd really appreciate your help."
"Not a problem. See you in five." Matt turned away and headed back to his house, while Emma slowly walked back to hers. Just for a moment, life in Collingwood didn't seem quite so bleak anymore.
As promised, a few minutes later Matt was standing before her door with a pair of heavy leather gloves and a wooden box.
"Nice house you've got here," Matt commented once Emma had closed the door behind him.
"It's okay. I haven't been here long enough to really feel at home in it," she answered, leading the way into the kitchen.
Matt went over to the kitchen sink, put the box down within easy reach and pulled on the gloves before opening the cupboard door. Emma leaned against the center island and watched. With Matt kneeling in front of the sink and reaching into the cupboard to catch the raccoon, she couldn't help notice his decidedly shapely backside, perfectly outlined by the rather tight-fitting jeans. For a moment she allowed her thoughts to wander, until a muffled curse brought her mind back to reality. Apparently the raccoon was not ready to give up its cozy hiding place quite that easily. Before Emma could decide if she should go get the first aid kit in case the raccoon won, Matt reappeared and quickly stuffed the raccoon into the box, before it could struggle free.
"Okay, your house is now officially raccoon-free. At least for the time being. Somehow these critters seem to be able to let their friends know where the best places are, so this might not be the last time this happens. If you need help again, just let me know, okay?" Matt stood up and picked up the box.
"I'm sure I will." Emma replied. "And thanks a lot for the help."
"Don't mention it. That's what neighbors do. Well, I'll get this little guy out of your hair now. Oh, by the way, the local theatre is showing 'Arsenic and Old Lace' tomorrow evening. They're usually very good, so if you'd like to go…..".
Is he really asking me out? Already?
For a moment, Emma was tempted. Not because she was really interested in the play, whatever it was, but because Matt seemed to be a genuinely nice, harmless guy and after all that had happened in her life lately, she could do with a dose of nice and harmless to make her forget about the mess her life had turned into. But then something seemed to shift in her vision, she noticed the picture perfect sunset through the window, another neighbor walked past, waving at her with a friendly smile, even the raccoon chose exactly that moment to peek over the rim of the box and Matt looked at her with a sort of little boy smile on his face that suddenly made him look way too much like Chance again, and the feeling of being caught in a bad soap opera (and not one of those "lifestyles of the rich and famous" ones) came crashing down on her, bringing with it all the sadness, rage and frustration she had felt this morning, together with an overwhelming exhaustion.
"Not interested. Now get out of my kitchen." She practically growled in answer to Matt's unspoken question.
Matt looked as if she had just punched him in the gut. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.
I can't do this….. Emma thought as she closed the front door behind Matt and leaned against the wall. Right now she had absolutely no idea how she was supposed to go through the next few months, let alone years stuck in a situation like this. But on the other hand she couldn't just give up. She had her unborn child to consider now…..