Silently opening the front door with her house key attached to her book-bag, Emma prayed Mr. Elms wouldn't hear her come in and she could go straight to her room for the night. Clutching her stomach that growled with hunger pains, she decided trying to sneak food wasn't worth it, she'd eat later when he was asleep.
Tiptoeing past the foyer and getting as far as the third step up the stairs, she froze as she heard the step beneath her squeak. Her hope shattered as she cringed away from Mr. Elms' booming voice coming from the dining area. "Emma. Get in here. Now."
Squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to fix her features to show no emotion, Emma slowly made her way towards the inevitable verbal lashing.
Sitting at the head of the table was a very cross Mr. Elms – his once jet black hair, now peppered with gray, was slicked perfectly back across his scalp – not a single hair out of place. His gruff features hidden behind a thick mustache and a bushy set of eyebrows were pulled into an intense scowl. So intense, that if Emma didn't know him well the intensity emanating from his face would have caused her to shrink back in fear.
"Why are you so late? Your dinner is cold." His dark eyes flashed.
Emma attempted to remind him of her Robotics Club meeting, but before she could get a word out he raised his hand, motioning for her to be silent.
"I don't want to hear your excuses. You're late, that's all that matters." Slamming his elbow down on the table and pointing a thick pointer finger in her direction, he barked, "You will eat your dinner cold, go upstairs for the night, do your homework, and go to sleep. Do NOT bother Mrs. Elms, no matter how much she may call for you. I will take care of her, she is not your concern." Slowly easing himself down into the dining room chair just behind him, his eyes never left Emma's face as he maintained his intense demeanor, "I don't want to see you work her up telling her your stories of your pieces of scrap metal machines and fill her head with nonsense. You will let her rest and do as you're told. Do you hear me?"
The words boomed out of Mr. Elms like a clap of thunder vibrating inside of Emma's head, making the headache that had been developing since leaving Pete's house worse. When the pain caused Emma's reaction to be delayed, Mr. Elms began to become unhinged.
Anger rising, Mr. Elms forcefully pushed his chair back, causing it to slam into the wall and stomped over to Emma. Towering over her, he bent down to Emma's level, yanking her within an inch of his face by the front of her shirt, and yelled "Damn you selfish child, you will answer me when I talk to you. I said, DO YOU HEAR ME."
Eyes widening in shock and fear, it took all of Emma's will-power to remain calm and not show any signs of her inner turmoil. She looked up at him and replied with a surprisingly calm, "Yes sir."
At her response, he let go of his painful grasp on her shirt and shoved her towards her seat at the dinner table. "Good, now eat and get out of my sight."
After a painstakingly long dinner of choking down cold food, Emma quickly washed her plate and escaped to her room. Thankfully Mr. Elms didn't berate her for accidentally slamming her door a little too loud.
Taking a shaky breath to calm her nerves, Emma slid down her door and took in the peaceful silence of her room.
Painted a rich, deep purple that contained nothing but the bare essentials, Emma's room was very neat and organized with not a single item out of place. Her small twin sized bed was in the far right corner of the room, made nice and crisp—military style—with her favorite flannel blanket folded at the end. To the right of her bed was a small, oak-wood dresser filled to the brim with perfectly folded undergarments and clothes. Decorating the top of the dresser were trinkets and memoirs collected over the years. She wasn't allowed to keep much from the different places she'd lived but always made sure to keep at least one thing to remember each family by. Despite how some of the homes had treated her, she was still grateful to them for taking her in when they didn't have to and wanted to preserve their memory.
Crammed in the far left corner of the tiny room was her favorite place in the world: her work desk. Strewn about were countless stacks of hand-drawn blueprints for robot prototypes, covering every square inch of the desk and pinned all across that corner of the wall. A hand-built extension to her desk took up the rest of the left wall, containing her soldering tools and random electronic devices collected over time to take apart and use as parts.
Setting her backpack down next to her desk, Emma plopped down into her simple metal desk chair and began to clear some desk-space to take a better look at her new and improved laptop.
Time seemed to stand still as Emma lost herself in her work. Finishing her homework in record time, she decided she could afford to delve into the code Pete had constructed for her computer. The rhythmic clicking of her nails against the computer keyboard soothed her as she meticulously went through the programs and code character-by-character.
A light knock on her bedroom door stirred her from her work. It could only be one person. "Coming Mrs. Elms" Emma responded with a nervous catch in her voice. Mr. Elms' warning from dinner came to the forefront of her mind and the ball of anxiety returned to her stomach.
Emma quickly stumbled out of her chair to answer the door, knowing Mrs. Elms didn't have the strength to stand for long and she didn't want to keep her waiting.
"Mrs. Elms" Emma responded on edge, peering down the hallway. "It's late, you should be in bed. Are you feeling ok?" she extended her arm for Mrs. Elms to grasp when she could see her start to lean heavily on the door-frame.
Mrs. Elms was a tall and willowy woman, her form covered in a long, thin nightgown that touched the ground, her matching blue slippers peaked from underneath the satin blue material. Her long, blonde hair that flowed down over the front of her shoulder was tied in a loose braid, and her gentle baby blue eyes radiated love and warmth as they came to rest on Emma. She smiled down at Emma, showing a hint of smile lines that told she lived a life full of many smiles.
"Nonsense" she waved Emma's concern away, attempting to hide her fatigue.
"I'm fine! And please, call me Alese." She teasingly chided. "I wanted to catch you before you went to sleep for the night and congratulate you on finishing school!" excitement seeping into her tired voice.
Face softening, Emma began to gently guide her back to her room, "Thank you Mrs.- Alese, but you really shouldn't stress yourself over me." She could tell the trip down the hall had tired her, and the last thing Emma wanted was for Mrs. Elms to lose her strength, or worse, for Mr. Elms to come up the stairs and catch them together.
Noticing the worry on the girl's face, Mrs. Elms patted Emma's arm she had been leaning on, bringing her to a halt.
"Emma" she softly cooed. "What's wrong? You look frightened."
A confused look knitted its way across her brow at the small girl's shaky sigh, then it dawned on her.
"Did Richard say something to you?"
Hesitating only a moment, Emma meekly replied, "Yes."
The broken tone in Emma's voice was enough to keep Mrs. Elms from inquiring further.
Eyes downcast, Emma continued to let Mrs. Elms lean on her as they slowly made their way down the hall to the master bedroom. She tried to not let Mrs. Elms feel her shake as she thought about how angry and almost hateful Mr. Elms had been at the thought of her spending time with Mrs. Elms'. She didn't understand.
"Don't you worry yourself about Richard, I will handle him." Mrs. Elms assured with a breathy voice.
"He has become a bit of a grump in his old age," she mused with a light chuckle as they entered her room. "My predicament has been taxing on him. He's not one to show weakness and feels being anything other than grumpy is being weak."
As Emma helped her climb back into her bed she gave a pained sigh that caused Emma to instinctively cringe. She hated seeing Mrs. Elms this way. For a year now she's watched Alese rapidly decline. After countless doctor visits, painful treatments, and a misdiagnosis that has caused the sickness to take a turn for the worse, there was nothing left to do except make her as comfortable as possible as her time ran out before their very eyes. She was the only family Emma had left, and now she was about to lose her too.
With tears beginning to blur her eyes, Emma turned to leave when Mrs. Elms' voice stopped her. "Emma, do stay awhile. I need to talk to you."
Trepidation shot through her system as what felt like ice began to fill her veins. Emma didn't know how many more talks she could handle today, she was emotionally drained.
Mrs. Elms patted the space beside her with a beckoning smile Emma could never deny, "Come, make yourself comfortable and sit with me." Tiredly, Emma did as she was told.
"So tell me, how is this going to work with school? When is the ceremony? I want to hear all about it."
"Well," Emma hesitantly began, "I'm finishing a semester earlier than I was expecting to. So really, I guess today was my last official day of high school since winter break starts tomorrow."
"Oh my, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Elms' exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you sweetheart!"
A warm sense of pride filled Emma at Mrs. Elms' genuine joy. "Thanks, Mrs. Elms, I-"
"What's going on here?" A gruff and unhappy voice cut in, causing Emma to almost jump out of her skin and fly off of the bed faster than she thought possible.
"Richard, please.." Mrs. Elms tried to calm the storm she could see brewing before her in her husband.
"I thought I told you to leave Mrs. Elms be." Mr. Elms barked, completely ignoring his wife's vie for his attention as he crossed his thick arms over his broad chest, looking about ready to explode.
"Richard." Mrs. Elms' pleaded to get his attention.
"Not now Alese, don't defend her." He snapped his attention to his wife and eased his tense stance a bit, "she shouldn't be bothering you and she knows that you need to rest." He started walking towards Emma to corral her out the door.
"Richard, enough. I asked her to come in here." Mrs. Elms stated in surprising indignation, stopping him in his tracks and causing both Mr. Elms and Emma to look at her in surprise.
"Emma, I want you to stay." She calmly requested, not breaking eye contact with Mr. Elms. "And you," she continued, eyes filling with disappointment, "stop this. Stop taking your anger and frustration out on this innocent girl who has been through enough." Once Emma had returned to her spot on the bed, Mrs. Elms reached for her hand and grasped it as she continued.
Tears silently spilled down her face, "I don't know how much time I have left. And the time I do have I want to spend surrounded by the people I love, and that includes this girl." She squeezed Emma's hand tighter. "Emma accomplished a great feat today. I at least deserve to hear about it before I go, don't I Richard?"
"Alese..." Mr. Elms said in a broken voice, "All I'm trying-"
"I don't have the energy to keep fighting with you on this. Please, just give us a moment and let us talk." Mrs. Elms huffed.
Frozen in what could only be hurt at Mrs. Elms' rare display of upset, Mr. Elms' face was unreadable as he turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
With an exasperated sigh, Mrs. Elms let go of her grip on Emma's hand, giving it a reassuring pat as she sank back into her pillows.
"Do forgive him, dear. He means well, he just isn't the best with his emotions. You know how boys can be right?" She peeked at Emma through half-closed eyes, a glimmer of humor there.
"Now before I drift off to sleep again there is something I need to show you." Sitting up straighter, Mrs. Elms leaned over and dug around in her bedside table drawer before presenting a box to Emma.
"This," she stated, opening the box for her, "Is a family heirloom of mine, I want you to have it." She placed the small golden-velvet jewelry box with shaky fingers into Emma's awaiting hand. Emma gasped, inside the box rested a gorgeous pink diamond necklace.
Emma fingered the necklace appreciatively, "This is for me?" looking up at Mrs. Elms with wide eyes.
Measuring the girl's reaction with a whimsical smile, Mrs. Elms took the necklace out of its box and handed it to Emma for closer inspection.
The centerpiece was a flawless pink diamond that was the size of her entire hand, surrounded by what appeared to be a dozen smaller white, yellow, and blue diamonds. It glistened through its endless faucets as it dangled loosely on a solid silver chain. What caught Emma's attention the most about it was that the centerpiece diamond hung upside down, in a triangle shape. She loved it.
"It's beautiful," Emma said wistfully as she held the necklace. "I can't accept something like this, it's too much." she murmured as she handed the necklace back to Mrs. Elms.
"I insist," she said as she motioned for Emma to lean towards her, and clasped it around her neck. "I want you to have it. I don't have any children of my own so I have no one else to pass this on to." Emma turned to look at her sadly, the unspoken message between them acknowledged.
Breaking the moment of tension Mrs. Elms nodded towards her vanity. "Go take a look in the mirror and tell me what you think."
Tentatively walking towards Mrs. Elms' vanity, she quietly gasped at the image staring back at her, speechless. Emma maintained her outward composure as a plethora of thoughts whirred inside her mind. The most prominent one being how the necklace fit her small frame perfectly, almost as if this necklace was made for her.
"I'm glad you like it." Mrs. Elms beamed as her eyes filled with tears.
Reaching over to put the necklace back in its case as Emma returned, Mrs. Elms' continued. "I was planning on giving this to you for your 18th birthday, but it seems time is moving along faster than I expected. So this will have to do as a graduation present instead."
Emma gave her a perplexed look, "What do you mean my 18th birthday? Mr. Elms put in the one month notice for me to leave last week."
Now it was Mrs. Elms' turn to give Emma a perplexed look. "I never agreed to... Oh, Richard." Placing her fingertips on her forehead and giving a sigh of frustration, she looked over at the small girl with guilt written all over her face.
"That man… The pain you must have felt." She reached over to give Emma a hug, a catch in her voice. "I'm so sorry sweetheart for the hurt I've caused you, but trust me when I say you're not leaving. Not if I have anything to say about it. Which I do." She hugged Emma tighter before releasing her, tucking a single curl of Emma's hair behind her ear that always managed to hang right in the middle of her right eye.
Emma placed her hand over Mrs. Elms', eyes brimming with happy tears. No one had ever been more of a mother to her. "It's not your fault. It's ok."
Growing weary, Mrs. Elms settled back down against her pillows. Surprised to feel Emma cuddle up next to her after a moment.
A long stretch of silence passed between them, both content to simply be with one another before the silence was broken by Mrs. Elms' voice, thick with emotion.
"I still remember the first time I saw you. You were five years old and so small, I thought you were still a toddler." Staring up at the ceiling, Mrs. Elms' smiled as she began to comb her fingers through Emma's hair. A rhythmic motion that soothed both woman and child.
"You were so quiet and shy, hiding behind the police officer who had found you that day by the pier. Which is not unusual for kids first entering the center, but you were different. You didn't speak at all, no matter how much the counselors and I tried to coax it out of you. You spelled out what you wanted to say with legos. Always building, even from the start." She lightly chuckled.
Emma peered up at her when she felt her chuckles turn into coughing and shivering, and held her close to keep her warm.
Trying her best to control her shivering, Mrs. Elms' continued. "As the years went by and your case continued to pop up on my desk as you moved homes, I was drawn to you. I couldn't let you go. Not anymore, I knew that I was meant to be your mother." Leaning down to kiss Emma's forehead, Mrs. Elms' eyes' shone with something she was far from feeling as she recalled this memory, a spark of life and hope.
"At the time I was merely a secretary for the foster care center in this district. I wasn't a licensed foster parent in the system so I couldn't have you stay with me, not yet. While I worked on meeting the requirements to foster and getting Richard to agree, I had to let you go to whatever home you were assigned to."
Holding her close as she continued to weakly stroke her hair, Emma felt tears drip onto her face. "It was so hard to watch you go, not knowing where you were going or who you would be staying with. By law, I had to not invade the privacy of the foster families and look into them, but I knew we had some bad families in the system, and I prayed every night that you would be spared from being placed with one of them." Emma' buried her face into the blue satin of Mrs. Elms' nightgown, trying to hide tears of her own at the overwhelming feeling of love and appreciation for the woman next to her.
She had been fortunate enough to not have been placed with one of those homes, but she had friends who had been and had seen how it had changed them. She shivered at the memory and gave a silent thanks to any God willing to listen for this woman who had looked out for her all of her life, and begged for her to be spared from the end coming from her. She wasn't ready to lose her yet.
"10 years passed, and as Richard and I failed to have children of our own, I finally convinced him to give fostering a try. He had always wanted to be a father, but sadly I became ill before I could provide children to this family."
Gently tipping Emma's chin up to meet her gaze, Mrs. Elms' voice broke, "Please understand. It's not that Richard doesn't want you," Mrs. Elms' searched her eyes, silently pleading with Emma to understand, "he is afraid."
"He is afraid to love again. Watching me suffer, I know him. It has affected him more deeply than he would want anyone to know. He is afraid to watch someone else he loves get ripped away-" she gasped as a sudden stab of pain overtook her. Emma tried to prop herself up to help but Mrs. Elms' held her close, not allowing her to move. "-As I am...".
Trying desperately to silence her sobs as she held Mrs. Elms until the spasm of pain ceased when she finally felt Mrs. Elms relax it was several long minutes until Emma dared to move again, hoping she had fallen asleep and could rest. Carefully disentangling herself from her position of being nuzzled into Mrs. Elms' side, she was able to get a good look at Mrs. Elms at long last.
Even over the course of this single conversation, she had grown so much more pale, like she was slipping away right before Emma's very eyes.
Hovering her shaking hand over Mrs. Elms' still, pale form to check her temperature and pulse, Mrs. Elms' eyes slowly slid open right as Emma made contact with her skin at the base of her neck.
"Emma," Mrs. Elms whispered, startling Emma and grabbing her attention. When their eyes met, Emma noticed Mrs. Elms no longer was able to focus her gaze on her. Almost as if she was looking at something far off into the horizon that was calling to her. She covered Emma's hand on her neck with her own, her grasp on Emma's hand light as a feather.
"Your home is with me for as long as you need it," she reassured, motioning for Emma to come closer and kissed Emma's forehead. "I love you," she murmured in a barely audible breath as she drifted off to sleep.
Mrs. Elms was asleep too quickly for her to catch the look of astonishment on Emma's face. That had been the first time anyone had ever said "I love you" to her, and truly meant it. Allowing her tears to spill over at long last that she had been holding back on and off all day, she carefully took hold of the golden-velvet box containing her newfound treasure and went to sleep herself. Comforted by the warmth of Mrs. Elms' body resting next to her, and by the loving warmth of her words.
Emma was not able to bask in her new-found warmth for long. A feeling of chilling cold that was a nightmare come true woke Emma later that same night. Mrs. Elms was dead.