Will's Point of View

I took a quick glance over at Emma, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat of my car. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and swollen, having finally exhausted herself in her sorrow. I had instinctively ran to her when I saw her face in her office, going into protector mode to try and help her through this. It wasn't until we reached Cincinnati that I realized that maybe I had overstepped my bounds by insisting on coming with her. A gentle smile and the touch of her hand on mine told me that, at least for the moment, she was proud I was with her.

As I turned onto the Frankfort exit, I gently reached over and stroked her cheek. "Emma, we're here. I need you to give me directions from this point." She sat up startled and still foggy from sleep, squinting from the intrusion of the streetlights on her eyes. Motioning my turns, we made it to the neatly groomed white house standing in the center of a cul-de-sac. Emotion hit her once again as she stepped in through the white picket fence surrounding the house, and I wrapped my arm around her waist for support. Looking up, I noticed the attractive older lady standing in the open door, her arms spread out wide. Emma rushed from my side and ran to her Mother, and the two embraced, their sobs muffled. I stood silent, not knowing exactly what to say or do; I had never been in this situation before.

Emma released from her Mother, turning to face me as she motioned for me to come closer. "Mom," she said, her voice cracking slightly, "…this is Will Schuester, my…one of my very best friends from McKinley. Will, this is my mother, Gladys Pillsbury."

I extended my hand to the woman, and she pulled me to her, hugging me almost as tightly as she had Emma. "You sweet man, taking care of my baby girl this way. I've heard so much about you already, William, and you are just as my Emma described. Please, come in."

I stepped back, looking at Emma. "Let me just get Emma's bags from the car, and then if it's OK, I'll use your phone book to see if there's a nearby hotel…"

Gladys Pillsbury scoffed. "You most certainly will NOT! You'll stay here – we have plenty of room, right Emma?"

I noticed the silent exchange from mother to daughter; on Emma's face was a look of shock, while Gladys' face held something I wasn't quite sure of.

"Um…sure, Will…there's a guest room right across the hall from my old room."

"But, with all that's happened, I don't think it would be appropriate…"

"It would be MOST appropriate, William." Gladys looked at me with insistence. "You drove my Emma down here safe and sound, and you're her boyfriend for heaven's sake – why wouldn't it be alright? Besides, I'd feel a little safer here knowing that there was a man in the house…"

With those words, the tears once again began to flow as mother and daughter once again embraced before walking through the door.

Her boyfriend? Those words continued to replay over in my mind as I retrieved our bags from the car. I guess it was true, but we'd never officially referred to it in those terms before. I rather liked it, but knew that today (or for the rest of our time in Frankfort) was not the time to discuss it.

The Pillsbury home was quaint, with warm gold and red hues accented the wood floor in the living area that led into an immaculately clean kitchen and dining area. Upstairs, four bedrooms jutted off of the main hall. The guest room was small, but housed a beautiful hand-carved mahogany bed covered with a light blue crocheted bedspread. Emma had shown me to the room and then to the adjoining bathroom, making sure I knew where all of the essential linens were stored. After stowing our things, we went back downstairs where Gladys' was mulling about the kitchen.

"You two must be awfully hungry, having come straightaway from Ohio…can I fix you something?"

I spoke first. "No thanks, I appreciate it, but…"

Emma interrupted me. "I'll take care of making us some sandwiches, Mom. You look tired. You should rest."

The older woman sat down at the table beside us, taking one of our hands into each of hers.

"We have to go to the funeral home tomorrow to finalize the arrangements. Your father had most of this already planned, but…" I could hear her voice cracking, but watched as she regained her composure. "…I need you, Em, to help me with that." Turning to me, she squeezed my hand. "And dear, sweet William – could I bother you to help me pick something from his closet to wear? I would, but…" She sniffled again, and out of instinct I squeezed her hand.

"I would be honored, Mrs. Pillsbury."

She looked up at me, her eyes still shining from the tears, and gave me a sweet smile. "Sweetheart, you can call me Gladys…or Mom - whichever you prefer."

I looked over at Emma, and saw her smiling at me as she began to speak. "Mom, you're exhausted. Why don't you go on up to bed? Will and I will take care of locking up the house after we eat."

Gladys released my hand first, and then her daughter's. "My precious Emma." She kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then turned to me. "Thank you, William, for making sure she got home to me safely, but also for making her so happy. For so long I could only hear it in her voice, but now – to see it on her face, knowing that you put it there? You are precious to me, as well."

We ate in silence, mainly because I wasn't sure of what exactly to say. I could see the hurt in her eyes over the loss of her father, but more so over the grief that she was watching her mother go through. I would have been lying had I not been totally taken aback with the things Gladys had said in reference to me. Just what exactly had Emma told her about us?

After finishing our sandwiches, Emma washed the plates, leaving them to dry in the wooden drain rack on the counter near the sink. I knew this was another of the mantras learned in her therapy coming into play. She stood momentarily over the sink debating on whether or not she should do more. I vowed to let her know how proud I was of her for her accomplishments later. She was a far cry from the woman obsessed that I used to know.

We walked together through the house, making sure all doors were locked and all lights were out. As we ascended the stairs, Emma turned to face me. "Will…I appreciate you being here. It means so much to me; to know you care…"

I pulled her into my arms, cradling her head against my shoulder as I felt the warm water droplets begin to soak through the material of my shirt. Still at a loss for words, I gently held her, rocking her dainty frame ever so slowly. Pulling away from her, I took her hand and led her to the doors that stood right across the hall from each other. "I guess this is goodnight."

"Yeah," she whispered. She stepped closer, giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight."

I awoke the next morning to a gentle knock on my door. Slipping on my t-shirt, I opened the door to find Gladys' standing there. "Oh, William, I am sorry to wake you, but - we have to get going shortly. Could you…?"

I raised my hand for her to stop. "Sure thing. Let me get cleaned up and…"

She smiled. "Alright, dear. Emms and I will be waiting for you at the end of the hall - our, I mean my room. "

I got a quick shower, and in order to save time skipped shaving. Walking into the large bedroom at the end of the hall to find Gladys' standing in the door of a large walk-in closet. "He always liked the dark navy suit in the green garment bag - but I'm not quite sure what tie and…"

"I'll take care of it, Gladys," I whispered, taking her hands into mine. I found the green garment bag immediately, and after opening it, paired it with a deep blue tie with gold accents. Emma had joined her mother on the end of the bed, and both approved of the ensemble. Placing the tie and shoes in the bottom of the garment bag, I followed the pair down the stairs and out of the house.

The rest of the morning was spent finalizing the arrangements. I kept a careful eye on Emma; she would smile and comfort her mother as she spoke with the funeral director over certain details, but when she thought no one was looking, she would shed a tear. My heart was breaking for her. I couldn't imagine the grief she was feeling, nor did I want to any time soon, but seeing the agony in her eyes hurt.

We were greeted by several neighbors and friends upon our arrival back at Emma's childhood home. Within an hour, there was a vast array of casseroles, side dishes, and desserts adorning the island and dining room table. Emma and I stood by her mother as the menagerie of visitors shuffled through their home. I smiled secretly to myself when I was introduced, more than once, as Emma's boyfriend, William. I dared to look at Emma when this was said, and she bore a smile on her face, but of its sincerity I wasn't sure. She had just lost her father; it would be presumptuous of me to think that the smile was because of my assumed title. It was most likely due to putting on a strong face in front of family friends.

As the sun began to fade into the sky, those gathered at the house began to disperse, many promising to bring dinner by tomorrow night. Gladys and Emma were gracious to the end, but I could see that both women were fighting both mental and physical fatigue. Gladys, who seemed to have aged ten years in that one day, kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek. "I'm tuckered out," she breathed. "You two going to mind if I go to bed now?"

We both shook our heads and watched as she disappeared up the stairs. "Emma," I started, "you must be exhausted, too."

She looked up at me, her face wearing an expression I could not decipher. "Walk with me, Will?"

Stepping through the French doors and onto the back patio of the Pillsbury home, I could see a small park nestled through the trees. "There's a nice trail through the woods and through the park. I used to walk through the park all the time, that is - until well….you know." I smiled as I recalled the incident that had turned Emma into such a germaphobe. "It was my happy place."

"Your home seems to have been a pretty happy place," I mentioned, nodding back toward the white house behind us. "Your Mother is absolutely adorable."

"She can be," Emma spoke. "She was constantly trying to invite the other girls in our neighborhood over to our house for tea parties and the likes. She'd spend all day making petit fours and sandwiches."

I smiled at the thought of an eight year old Emma in a big floppy hat, surrounded by several giggling girls in feather boas and clunky jewelry. "I bet those were fun."

She bit her bottom lip before responding. "Not really. No one ever came. They all made fun of me."

My eyes shot wide open at her revelation.

"It's true," she continued. "I wasn't exactly what you call social back in those days - and even now. They called me names - mostly because of my hair and my freckles. I hated it - but my Mom thought it was important for me to at least try to be their friends."

I could see her bottom lip quivering. "My Daddy would always come, though. He'd sit in the chair right beside me and tell me what a great time he was having. And he'd always turn on the stereo and find a song we could dance to."

I stopped her just short of the tree line in the expansive back lawn of the house, my hand cradling her face as I wiped the lone tear from her cheek.

"I wanted to dance with him at my wedding someday…"

Sobs overtook her now, and I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. "It's alright. Let it all out."

She lay her head on my shoulder, her arms holding me tighter than she had in the two months we had been seeing each other. I could feel her closer to me than she had ever allowed herself to become. I held her tightly, savoring the moment, but also feeling a little guilty that I was enjoying her closeness, and it was only because of her heartbreak.

Before I knew it, I had whispered into her ear. "Yo daría cualquier cosa por tener este dolor de usted. Eres mi vida, mi todo, mi amor."

And it was the truth - every word of it.

OK, so first of all - it's been several years since I've been in a Spanish class, so I am a little bit rusty - if you want to know what Will said, you can check translate(dot)google(dot)com, and you'll get the gist of it.

Secondly, thanks for taking the time to read. I hope that maybe you've gotten a little enjoyment out of this story. It will be continued, I swear. I am working on chapter 3 right now. If you feel so inclined, drop me a line and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!