Another long chapter…whoops! This one is a little more drama filled, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Emma had spent a lot of time in her yellow bug, both driving and working in it. It felt comfortable to her though it certainly lacked some of the accessories and tools that were available on more modern vehicles. It had a barely working radio, no mention of a CD changer, MP3 player or satellite radio. Air conditioning worked better in the winter and heat in the summer. It was temperamental at times and rarely blended in when she went to any place. The only other good thing she could say for it was that it was a conversation starter, as people often came up and mentioned how they or a friend/relative used to own one just like it. She heard how people had lost their virginity, been proposed to, lived in, and various other things in a car just like hers.
So just when she went to take her morning nap, hoping that a few hours of sleep would prepare her for a conversation with Walsh, the parents' dinner, and dealing with whatever Gold had planned, she was a little surprised to get a call from David Nolan. She agreed to meet him at the station and was waiting for him to arrive and unlock things. Sitting in the well-worn and lumpy seat, she texted her friend.
Emma: Your sister woke me up this morning.
Elsa: If you were alone in your bed, you deserved to be woken up by the cheerleader.
Emma: I'm working up some courage here. Don't test me.
Elsa: You texted me. So spill it?
Emma: Yes, I need help finding someone.
Elsa: You have a boyfriend, a boy toy, and now you want a third. Kinky.
Emma: I don't.
Elsa: Sorry to ask, but which one are you denying.
Emma: I need to find Kathryn.
Elsa: The woman I spent time kicking out? At your request, I might add. What's with you?
Emma: Just do it.
Emma stared at her phone after the conversation ended, wondering if Siri could answer tougher questions than the closest Chinese restaurant. But thankfully David arrived and she had very little time to worry about Elsa's understanding of the instructions.
David blew through the small talk quickly, asking after both she and her son, plus getting in a few questions about Killian that she promptly ignored. He nodded and became all business, pulling out an 8X10 photograph and using two fingers to push it across the desk. Emma glanced at the picture and felt her eyes widen with surprise. "She…"
"Let me explain," David said, closing his mouth and going to stand before he continued. He took the four steps to the door and shut it tightly. "I have someone coming in and I'd rather not let him overhear this."
She nodded, feeling a bit sick to her stomach. "Just tell me."
"Gold Holdings is a rather large company with a lot of interests up and down the eastern seaboard," David said, folding his hands in an almost prayerful manner. "Kathryn is one of his employees. He paid for her education and has had her working on his legal team ever since. He has another employee in that area who I think you might know. Judging from the way you looked like you'd seen a ghost…"
"She's my boyfriend's ex," Emma said stoically, neglecting the part where she saw a picture from a cell phone of them the night before. "She's…"
"She's the half-sister of our town's mayor," David explained a bit impatiently. "She's not got the best reputation, but as I understand it Mr. Gold has helped her out in the past and found her a job with some sort of fashion magazine."
"Accessories editor," Emma supplied, as though the title made any difference at all. "I don't get it. Why does Mr. Gold need an accessories editor?"
"There is little that Gold does that does not include a deal of some kind, blackmail really. He paid for school for Kathryn and I'd assume he did something similar for Zelena. He doesn't do these things out of the goodness of his heart. He does it to control them, own them, or make them do his bidding."
Her thoughts immediately turned to her son, the boy whom Gold wanted to control now. It would be easy enough to accept tuition money from the man, but at what cost. Would he expect things of Henry immediately or would he get that call someday and meet his grandfather in some abandoned warehouse with several associates nearby. She needed to stop watching mob movies.
David seemed to be able to read her mind. "He's looking for your weakness, Emma," he said. "From best I can tell, Kathryn's been assigned to look into your business and see if things are truly as strong between you and your partners as you have portrayed. Zelena is probably looking into your private life." Looking down at the photograph again, he frowned. "You've been spending time with Killian Jones, which I'm sure you realize is not exactly something Mr. Gold would like you to do. So maybe this is a way to make sure you pay more attention to your boyfriend. If you view Zelena as competition, it would work in Gold's favor. Your jealousy and possessiveness would take over." He pulled open another drawer and extracted a single sheet of yellow paper. "Emma, I don't usually do this kind of work. I'm not an investigator and I'm sure not in the white crime unit. It's just that all of this seems to be pointing to one thing."
"Which is?" Emma asked, well aware of her own interpretation. He waited for her and she waited too. A game of chicken ensued, willing the other to blink first. David lost.
"He's been watching you and Henry. Or having people do it. He's not your run of the mill stalker type though. He's not searching out your Facebook page or friend requesting you under an alias."
"Is he dangerous?" Emma asked, for the first time considering that she might not be able to handle things.
"He's not someone you want to mess with, Emma. I don't know his plan, but you can bet he has one for Henry and probably for you. So I'm going to tell you to be careful. I probably sound like your father saying that, but I'm serious. Be careful, Emma."
***AAA***
Just like before she had met with David, Emma held the phone in her hands and waited on the exasperated but still friendly voice of Elsa to pick up and answer her. She was not disappointed.
"The train was late, escalator was broken, and I swear they are letting anyone into the city right now," she said, panting and then barking out a coffee order. It was Elsa's one vice, iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream no matter what the weather. "I'm about to pack up and move to the wilderness with you and Henry."
"This isn't the wilderness," Emma protested, unsure why she was defending the town. "It has stuff…"
Elsa huffed in annoyance and barked out another instruction about using a dome top for the cup rather than something to squish down her whipped cream. "So this must be serious," she said. "You aren't texting and you said something about meeting with a police chief or sheriff."
"He's been watching me. Probably for years." Emma said the words that sounded ominous to her own ears. "He's been…"
"Wait," Elsa said, a loud clatter indicating that she was settling herself into one of the metal patio chairs rather than continuing to walk while balancing her purse, briefcase, phone, and coffee. "Start over. Who are we talking about?"
"Henry's grandfather," Emma said with her own sigh of frustration and vague fear. "He's actually the landlord on the building where we rent office space. He's the reason that we got a good deal."
Elsa was taking a long sip, thinking about her response. "Well, it's not that good of a deal. The fuses keep blowing and I lost a four page report yesterday because of it. Whatever. What else? I know there has to be more."
"That Kathryn woman and Walsh's ex-girlfriend both are connected to him. Then there is Walsh. This law firm he's decorating? The loft space that needed staging for a real estate friend. That's Gold too. And I'm not sure but it looks like he's even had people hire us. Some of our bigger paydays have come from him"
If Emma could picture her friend right then she knew that Elsa's lips would be pursed and her eyes practically swirling with the information in her head. "Seriously?" she asked, sounding almost condescending. "So this guy…this rich guy…has been watching you and helping you out financially? Yes, it's creepy, but it's not that bad of a thing. Let's face it he's being more of a fairy godmother than a mobster godfather."
Emma groaned loudly at the pun. "I don't like it," she reconfirmed. "I don't like people controlling me, even from a distance. He's been pulling the strings on my life and making me think that things happened because of chance or even fate. Instead, it's because of him and his desire to have control over Henry? That's sick."
"But what if it was just him trying to help you," Elsa said warily, playing devil's advocate to perfection. "Henry's his grandson. And for most of Henry's life, his father did precious little to help you either emotionally or financially. This could just be his way of…I don't know…helping support him."
"Then write me a check," Emma said, flopping back against the seat of her car. "If you want to help someone, you don't do it like this. And don't put this on Neal. He didn't even know Henry existed until a year or so ago. I didn't track him down and tell him."
"So we've established that the guy's tactics are a little creepy and could potentially be seen as stalkerish. Now what? Do you calculate how much the guy's helped you? Us? Do you write him a check? Do you tell him off? What's the plan here, Emma? I'm here for you. I'll do my part, but my coffee is getting cold."
"Your coffee is always cold. It's iced coffee."
"True, but the ice is melting and it's getting watery. So what's the plan? I haven't heard back from any of my leads on this Kathryn woman."
"I'm not sure that I have one, but I guess I need to deal with this. I need to figure out how and what to do about everyone he's had spying or interfering."
"Walsh?" Elsa asked, sounding more hesitant than usual. "You're going to break up with the guy because he worked for this Mr. Gold – whose name sounds like a comic book villain by the way."
"I kind of have to," Emma declared, closing her eyes. "It's not just that connection. I figured out before all this that he's not the right guy for me. I just don't feel anything when we kiss or when…"
"You kissed the hot guy with the accent and the boat!" Elsa screamed as Emma wondered how many people were in the coffee shop that heard her friend. "I'm so proud of you!"
"I'm not sure that my kissing a guy while I'm in a relationship with someone else deserves your appreciation, but thank you," Emma said with a short laugh. "Anyway, that's what I need your help with too."
Elsa, clearly still gloating with the news, stopped her humming celebration to question Emma. "What? You want me to deliver a note?"
"He's not in his office or store today," Emma said. "Can you locate him for me? It'll be easier for you since my wifi sucks right now."
"No wifi in the wilderness, got it," Elsa said. "Sure. I can do that. So you want to break up with him in person?" Emma got the distinct impression that her friend was chewing, probably on a cheese danish, which was her other weakness.
"I think I owe it to him rather than over the phone."
"I don't know, I broke up with a guy via text message once," Elsa recounted. "And then there was that date that went so bad I ran into the restroom and texted him that I was called away. I waited until he was gone and then snuck out."
"They don't call you the ice queen for nothing," Emma said with a laugh. "But seriously, thank you."
***AAA***
Killian proudly inspected the fish that his students had caught that morning, giving praise to each of them for their bountiful selections. He was enjoying himself, despite the drama that came with working with children that age. There had been three arguments that morning, a tearful girl on the verge of a break down because some other boy in town had been seen holding hands with another girl from an upper grade.
"Do we have to learn how to cook these?" Henry asked when Killian moved to him. His nose wrinkled at the smell and he looked a bit green. "I like fish sticks, but this is…"
"You'll be getting a few lessons from Mrs. Lucas over at the diner, but the majority of the cooking will be done by the adults, I presume." His smile flashed to the boy who stepped back from the bucket of fish. "You did a marvelous job. All are a good size, variety, and will taste great. Much better than fish sticks."
"Better than dino chicken nuggets?"
Killian chuckled lightly, not wanting to catch the other children's attention. Henry was a favorite of Killian's, but he also knew the boy did not need the pressure of his peers learning that he was spending extra time with a teacher. Children at that age could be callous in their attempts to build their own self-esteem. He did not want Henry to feel the brunt of that. "Aye, lad, there is nothing better than a good seafood dinner that's fresh from the day's catch."
The students were packing up their items and bidding Killian a goodbye as Granny managed to load the diner's van up with the fish. Waving off his help, Granny lifted, tugged and tossed the buckets into the back of the vehicle and shot a half smile at him before reminding him that he still owed for dinner from two weeks ago. She had a mind like a steel trap.
He peeled off a few dollars to hand to her, asking as innocently as he could if Emma had been around that morning. The woman's glare was certainly a warning.
"She's a good girl," Granny said, squinting over top of her glasses. "She doesn't need you being a bad influence on her."
He frowned back at her. "You have so little confidence in me?"
"I know you, Killian Jones. I knew your brother. I knew your parents."
"Aye, that you did. But maybe Emma's a good influence on me?" He smiled at the thought that he might actually could see that. He did feel like he was becoming a better man for just knowing her and wanting to not only impress her but make her proud of him.
She threw her hands up as if she was giving up on the conversation. "You're probably beyond help. Just be careful with her. I don't need her coming back to her room crying over something stupid you did or said." She pursed her lips. "She's been around this morning, but she left a little bit ago after she talked to the sheriff. Seems she was a bit angry about something and was outside for a while in her car on her phone. I hope that had nothing to do with you."
"I swear milady," he said in his most formal tone. "I have done nothing…"
"Sure you didn't," Granny declared. "Either way. She wasn't there when I left."
Killian was about to ask more when his phone vibrated and Granny took that as her clue to leave and follow the bus from the docks back to the school for the afternoon of cooking and teaching. Like Killian, she was not typically one who worked with children. Her gruff nature was certainly not something that brought out the best in children and sometimes scared them. He almost wished he could watch her attempt to teach knife skills to the group.
Looking down at the phone, he felt his heart sink.
Emma: Rain check on lunch? I have to take care of something out of town. I'm sorry.
Killian: Is everything alright?
Emma: Yes, just need to clear a few things up before dinner tonight. Did you guys catch anything good?
Killian: The sea was good to us today. Perhaps you would let me take you out for a sail one of these days?
Emma: I'd like that. I need to go though. Just stopped to get gas and need to drive now. See you soon?
Killian: Not soon enough.
***AAA***
Emma nosed her car into the parking spot at the Portland, Maine municipal building, grateful to find one of the few remaining places. Elsa's research had been quick and accurate, pegging Walsh as being at an estate sale in the northern state. Ignoring the pang that he had been so adamant that he did not want to visit her in Storybrooke when he was going to be no more than 90 minutes away, Emma gathered her bag and gave the door a final shove as she climbed the stairs and followed the signs to the multipurpose room near council chambers.
She saw him almost immediately with his back ramrod straight and his suit perfectly pressed in a light tan shade that made Emma wonder how he ever kept it clean. He was dutifully perusing a catalog of the items up for auction that included antique furniture and first editions of both books and prints that would make a shop owner like Walsh drool in anticipation.
She swallowed, her eyes blinking behind a large pair of sunglasses as she watched him. This was going to be a difficult thing and for not the first time she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She could have done this over the phone or a dozen or so more modern ways of communication. She could have gone old school and written him a letter, but she was not like that. She wanted to see him. She wanted to say what she had to say and end things without doubts or worry.
She moved up two more rows and was just starting to breathe again when he turned. Maybe he heard a sound or maybe he felt her eyes on him, but the recognition was almost instantaneous. Surprise registered on his face and so did a bit of sheepishness as his hands seemed to pull at his thin tie.
"I needed to talk to you and the phone didn't seem appropriate," she said when his eyes implored the unspoken question of her presence. "I just needed…"
"We didn't leave things well last night," he agreed reluctantly. "And I'm guessing you are angry that I'm here and hadn't called you or texted you yet."
Emma stood anchored to the beige carpet that seemed threadbare and dirty despite the advertisements of its time claiming stain resistance. Florescent lights overhead hissed and flickered in a way that she knew would make Walsh crazy. He hated artificial lighting and florescent lights were at the top of that list. "You would have called eventually," she said, not sure if she believed that was true or even cared that much. It was more of a convenience that he was in the state and not an issue over her ego at that point.
He bobbed his head in agreement, his right hand twisting the tie around his knuckles and then unwinding it again. "I'm glad to see you."
Her tight lipped smile was not exactly welcoming, nor was it a sign of her acceptance that he was being upfront with her. "We need to talk. Things…things are complicated right now." She inwardly cringed, recognizing the standard speech she was about to give and hoping that she could at least manage some unique words that wouldn't sound like a script.
"Emma," he said, shaking his head. "Let me go first. I know you're upset about my not supporting you in all this. I know that. And I wish I could say that I would do things differently. But I think we have something, Emma. I think we have something promising and special."
The circles were dark under his eyes and his skin seemed a bit pale, which made her wonder if he was coming off a bender or a sleepless night. She had never seen him quite so thrown together before, she thought, noting the faint coffee stain on his cream colored shirt. "No," she said. "I don't think we do. I think we have something comfortable and it would probably be that way for a while."
"You don't want comfortable?" he asked, sounding nearly appalled. Someone nearby looked at them and Emma realized it sounded like they were talking about furniture.
"I think we both want more than comfortable," Emma said.
"You met someone?" he asked, very little question to it. "I can tell."
Emma rocked backwards, almost taken aback by the accusation that was legitimate, but out of character for him. Then it hit her again. The connection with Zelena. The connection with Gold. She narrowed her eyes on him, squeezing out the last vestiges of emotion. "Why didn't you tell me about Mr. Gold? Your client? One of your biggest, I assume?"
"I…I didn't…"
"You knew," Emma said, more matter of factly than accusatory. "You knew who Henry's grandfather was because we talked about it. I even showed you a profile of him online. You knew I was coming to visit and you didn't bother to tell me that two of your last three big clients were him doing business as different companies. You didn't tell me that a woman who still has strong ties to him is your ex-girlfriend? When were you…Never mind. I don't care. I don't want to know the answers to those questions because they don't matter. Just like Gold was trying to manipulate my life and my son's life, you were right there playing along. Were you spying on me? Were you telling him things?"
Walsh's surprised turned to a simmering rage, his eyes flashing and nostrils flaring angrily. "You weren't worth the paycheck, darling."
"What?"
He clearly had not meant to say that, but there was no going back now. "He's been aware of you and Henry for years, but his attention was focused on that ungrateful son of his. After Neal died, he had to make sure that Henry was being raised right and properly. You aren't exactly the poster child for stable motherhood, Emma. So he began to intervene. Didn't you notice that after Neal's death that Henry began to win scholarships?" Walsh's fingers made air quotes around the word that he practically spat out. "You got more jobs. I think that was his total plan for a while, but then he heard you were dating. I think it was that writer guy – August. So that's when he contacted me."
"You were paid to date me?" Emma asked, her voice trembling not with regret but anger. "Were you?"
"I was paid to keep an eye on you and keep the unseemly sorts away from you," he clarified. "I'm not an escort. I'm just a furniture shop owner who saw it as a quick way to make some money. You're hardly my type though so that should have been your first clue."
"I didn't…" She knew he was right. It was a clue. She wasn't his type and his persistence that she go out with him was yet another one. Her eyes closed for a brief second as she let it sink in fully. "Then this whole thing shouldn't be a problem for you. You shouldn't care that I met someone new. You also shouldn't care that I know about you having drinks with Zelena last night or up until about five minutes ago that I was worried I was going to hurt you by telling you that I've been…"
"Save yourself the words," he said, waving his hand as though he could push away the confession. "Mr. Gold knows all about you and the one handed guy. He's not happy about it and I can guarantee that he'll put a stop to it. You have fallen into his plans perfectly. For someone who claims to be so smart and observant, you have pretty much failed."
***AAA***
Elsa told her to just hang on that she would be there as soon as she could, swearing that Anna and Kristof would probably supply her with enough chocolate gelato for them to lock themselves away for a month and never come out. "We can watch romcoms and bash men. We can bar hop and find new men. I can tell you about how Will accidentally called me by his late wife's name. We're both horrible at this relationship stuff, Emma. Let me come up there and get you. It'll make me feel better."
"Elsa, that's sweet, but I have to get back for Henry's thing. It's tonight and it's really important." She had pulled her car into the side parking lot of a diner that looked as though it had seen better days. Paint peeling and letters burnt out on the sign, Emma knew it must be better than it looked for the number of customers going in and out. "I need to drive back."
"Where are you now?" Elsa asked, the sound of her pencil scratching on paper indicating that she was writing something down as Emma told her the name of the place. "Just stay there. Don't leave until I call you back, okay? You sound upset and I don't want you driving like that."
Emma's throat burned and her eyes stung. She had not cried in front of Walsh, but it had been a full-fledged breakdown over the phone with Elsa. Every doubt she had about herself and every thought she'd ever hyper-obsessed on was stirring inside her, confirmed by a man who admitted he had feigned interest in her strictly for a paycheck. She looked at the clock on her dash and sighed. Elsa was right. She had time for a cup of coffee and to calm herself down before she took off again.
As the parking lot had indicated, the business was booming and almost every seat was taken. Emma chose a stool at the bar and ordered a coffee from a waitress who had merely grunted and shoved a menu in front of her as she barked out someone's order to a hairy man working the grill. Emma might have been annoyed that it took a full 20 minutes for her coffee to arrive and even then it wasn't what she ordered, but she was too busy thinking how she was going to tear Mr. Gold's fingers off one by one. It was more than hour before her order of a grilled cheese and cup of soup arrived and another 10 minutes before she waved down one of the waitresses for a spoon. Throwing down the exact change for her bill, Emma jumped as she heard his familiar voice.
"Fancy running into you here, love," Killian said, a smiling and slightly windblown Ruby beside him. She wasn't sure why he was standing there looking as though they had just ran into each other at Granny's rather than some dump in suburban Portland. He opened his arms wide and she landed against him while Ruby prattled on about her car, bugs committing suicide against her windshield and a speeding ticket.
"You're going to get David to call and get that taken off my record," she told Killian, who was still cradling Emma against him and trying to gracefully move them toward the door as a waitress told them to either sit down and order or leave.
The sun was still high overhead in the parking lot as Ruby provided the brief explanation that Elsa had called the main number and Granny's and demanded to talk to the waitress with the red streak. Two minutes later Ruby was calling Killian and the two of them had made a drive that usually took 90 minutes in 65, which would have been shorter if they hadn't been pulled over. Killian said nothing, just watching Emma as she leaned against her car and nodded that she understood.
Ruby lurched forward a bit uncomfortably and hugged her, saying she was glad to help. She then slapped Killian on the chest and smile. "You take her back. I'm driving myself."
He smiled, reaching out to pluck the keys from Emma's hand as she gaped. "I'll get the lady safely home," he said. Unlocking the passenger door, he held it open for her and then ran around to the driver's side for himself. "I've always wanted to drive one of these."
They were a good 15 miles out of the city when she finally spoke. "What about the dinner? Weren't you supposed to help with that?"
"David took my place," he said. "He and Mary Margaret are going to keep Henry at their house until we return. Don't worry. I didn't say anything about what was going on, just that I needed to get to you and they were eager to comply with my wishes."
"Do you know what happened?"
Killian swallowed, making a quick glance into the rearview mirror as his one hand rested on the steering wheel and the other arm was folded at his side. "I don't know all the details," he said. "Your friend told Ruby that you had gone to see Walsh and that it went badly. That's all I needed to know."
"That's an understatement." She sighed, uncurling her fingers and inspecting the red half-moons that appeared from digging her fingernails into her palm. "I didn't need to be rescued though. I was okay to drive. I am okay."
"I don't doubt it," he said sincerely. "Don't think of this as a rescue, love. Think of it as a road trip. You're rescuing me from Ruby's driving at the moment. The woman is a bloody hellcat behind the wheel. She'll beat us back by a good half hour at least." He let himself look at her, winking as though she looked amused at him. "Since it is a road trip, do you think we have time for a quick souvenir stop? Maybe some t-shirts, postcards, or one of those collectible spoons."
She managed a laugh, her bare knees hitting the glove compartment. "I'm holding out for a magnet. Something with the word Maine on it and the outline of the state with a whale jumping out of it."
"Anything you desire is yours, love, just say the word."
She reached between her legs to pull up the bag she had been carrying and rooted through it for her hair brush. Silently she brushed her hair, waiting on him to ask her a question or make some remark about her obviously distraught state. "Are you going to ask what happened?"
Killian shrugged. "I suppose that you'll open up and tell me when you wish or you won't," he said, merging in with some of the travelers who had gotten an early start on the weekend. Every car around them had a canoe or kayak on the roof, bicycles held to the trunks. "And for that bastard's safety, I prefer not to know at the moment. We're still close enough that I could turn this car around and go back to Portland. I may only have one hand, but I could do some damage. Plus I have friends in the fish cannery business. We know what to do with the body."
She provided her first genuine smile at the image of Killian punching Walsh, which she in part regretted that she had not done herself. "He wasn't who he seemed."
Killian nodded as though waiting for her to say more. "You deserve better," he said when she remained silent.
"Like you?"
"It would be bad form for me to market myself to you after saying something distasteful about your former lover." He frowned, not liking that word.
"Other than calling him a bastard, you haven't said anything distasteful or untrue," she said, examining the nails on her fingers and paying attention to her cuticles. "I don't mind."
"Then I must have only thought those distasteful things," he said. "Believe me. I've been telling him off in my mind since Ruby called." A car passed them with so many people that the back end hung low to the ground. The car's stereo created a vibration through them.
"You don't even know what he did," she said.
"He hurt you. That's the only thing I needed to know."
***AAA***
The Nolans' backyard was the perfect place for the students' dinner for the parents. Paper lanterns hung on strings from tree to tree. There were activities set up in various corners, including a photo booth with various costumes and props for the participants. The food overflowed from the table where both Granny and Mary Margaret fussed over it and were quick to tell the parents which dishes their little scholars had made for the occasion so that they could get extra helpings.
Henry did not comment on Emma's red cheeks or puffy eyes. She hoped it was because her makeup covered it up, but he could not have been blind to the sympathetic looks from Killian or the way that the man never left her side. Henry had dragged them both over to the photo booth and after two shots with his mother, he waved the man in and asked him to join them. Emma nodded in agreement.
"You probably have things to do," she said as they watched Henry attempt a duet on a karaoke machine that someone named Jefferson had brought. He didn't respond verbally, just taking her hand in his and watching at Henry and some boy began to add dance moves to their routine. "He gets his musical inability from me."
"Does that mean I cannot convince you to serenade me, love?" he whispered. "I was starting to like the idea."
She laughed, bumping his shoulder with her own. "One of my music teachers in middle school told me that there was no shame in lip-syncing. I don't think you want to hear me."
He did not look as though he believed her, but waited until Henry's performance was over and he was running to join an impromptu game that was a cross between Frisbee and baseball. "Come with me?" he asked. He pulled her up next to him and walked along the perimeter of the yard, telling her of how hard it had been to move the Nolans into their house when none of their furniture matched and both were at odds as to its placement.
"Sounds horrific," she said mockingly, grinning at him.
"You have no idea, love," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I will never endure such a task again."
She did not ask him where they were going and even managed not to think about what anyone else might think of their disappearance. He passed to the end of the property and through a pretty wide opening to a rocky and sandy path to a small dock where a boat was located. She raised her eyebrow.
"This is our transportation tomorrow, but I didn't bring you here for that," he said. "I thought you could use a few minutes away from everyone."
She looked at the wide creek and smiled at the darkened woods on either side that hid their contents from her in the dimming light. "Does that mean you're going to leave me here alone?" she asked, bending her arm and pulling him closer to her.
"If you wish for me to," he said, his head slanted downward to look at her. "I don't want to…"
She closed her eyes, trying to remember how she had felt the night before when he had kissed her. How had she managed to feel free and light, despite her lingering doubts and guilt about Walsh? Why was it harder now? "I want to tell you," she said, her eyes opening to his look of concern for her. "I don't want to tell you so that you'll get mad or pity me."
He kissed her forehead gently, the warmth of his lips spreading on her skin. "You don't have to," he said. "I don't have to know."
She breathed deeply and began to tell him. There were pauses when her voice cracked and when she saw his jaw pop in clenched anger and his eyes flash with untold plans for revenge or some other vengeance. She found herself forgetting her own feelings of inadequacy and betrayal as she soothed his anger. It may have been on her behalf, but she felt herself realizing the depths of his anger against Mr. Gold that had been years in the making. Her free hand smoothed over his jaw and fingers silenced him when he muttered things that she wasn't sure were totally about her.
"Emma, no man should treat you in such a way," he said when she had finished explaining how things had been left. "And while I cannot deny that I have feelings for you, I say this as objectively as I can. I hope you and Henry find happiness whether that's with someone new in your life or within yourselves. You deserve so much better than a fraud like Walsh could ever offer. And as for Mr. Gold, I cannot say I'm surprised, but that doesn't make it right. You're a wonderful mother to Henry. I have seen that since we first met. Don't let that man's low opinion of anyone but himself do anything to make you feel like you aren't good enough."
"You must think I'm a mess," she said. "Since I've met you, I've cried, screamed, fallen all over myself at least a thousand times."
"That's pure hyperbole," he said with a smile. "Maybe 100 or so would be more accurate."
"In five days, that's pretty sad."
"I don't know," he said, leaning back as though examining her. "I like the fact that you are comfortable enough to show me and tell me your insecurities. I like to think that it perhaps means that you trust me not to hurt you." His blue shirt seemed to compliment his eyes rather than compete with them and it felt soft against her skin that was exposed in the red and white sundress she had worn.
"That's a hard thing for me to do," she admitted. "I don't have a good track record there, but I'd like to be able to do that. I want to trust you."
His eyes closed as though her words somehow hurt him. She tensed at his reaction, trying to figure out what she had said wrong. "Love, I don't want you to have any doubts over me or if I am going to protect you or hurt you. If I am so lucky that you wish for me continue to pursue you and win your heart, I can assure you that I will treat it and you as the most precious gifts I have ever been given. If I don't, I will hand you the knife to cut out my own heart and feed it to me."
She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him as he waited for her response. Pulling her head back to look up at him, she smirked. "That's sweet, Killian. And a little gross."
"Perfect imagery for the mother of an almost teenager," he said with a chuckle, his handless arm pulled her tighter around her shoulders, dropping a kiss to her mouth, quick at first and then more fervent. When she pulled back from him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, he couldn't help but smile a little proudly at her. "Just so you know, Emma, I trust you."
Bye-bye Walsh!
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