Emma followed Shelagh into the master bedroom.
"Why don't you sit down on the bed?" The woman said. "I'll see if I can find you something to wear for tomorrow." She opened the top drawer of her dresser. "I'll get you some clothes to sleep in as well."
Emma looked around the room while Shelagh was busy picking out her clothes. It was another cosy room. A double bed took up most of the room. Two dressers stood side by side. On their top stood many picture frames, of the two of them, and of their kids.
"You have a lovely family, Mrs Turner." Emma said.
Shelagh smiled. "Thank you. But you don't need to call me Mrs Turner, Shelagh is perfectly fine. And Patrick, for my husband."
She looked at the girl, sitting forlorn on the bed. She picked up the dress and the nightie, and sat down next to the teenager. "What about your family? It must be hard, being away from them."
Emma took a deep breath, before letting it out in a sad laugh. "My family and I … I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess. Not as hard as it probably should." She glanced at Shelagh before looking down at the floor. "We didn't always see eye to eye on things."
Shelagh squeezed her shoulder before standing up. "Come on, I'll put your clothes through the washer." She said. "I'm sure you'd like some familiar things to remind you of home." She opened the bag, and frowned. "Why are there two sets of clothes in here, if you were only heading to school?" She continued unpacking Emma's bag on to the bed. Her wallet. Her notebook. But no school supplies.
Emma grimaced. How was she supposed to explain this?
Shelagh looked at the items on the bed and suddenly she realised what was going on. She sighed softly. "You weren't heading to school, were you? You were running away."
Emma averted her gaze. "Does it really matter?"
"Not really. Only if you want to talk about it."
Emma shook her head. "Not now, please."
"Okay." Shelagh sat down next to Emma, their shoulders touching. "As long as you know you can always come talk to me, about anything. I'll never be too busy for you."
Emma swallowed the tears down and nodded.
"So," Shelagh said, standing up. She didn't want her to dwell on the negative for too long. She squeezed Emma's shoulder in silent support. "I'll show you to your new quarters."
Emma smiled shyly. She picked up her belongings and followed the woman down the hall.
Shelagh opened the door on the other side of the hall. "This will be your room. Well, yours, Angela's and Timothy's. I hope you don't mind sharing with them."
Emma shook her head. "I don't mind, really. I'm grateful I'm allowed to stay here." She looked around the room. On one side stood a single bed, on the other wall a cot. There where toys scattered on the floor. But, despite the mess, Emma smiled. It looked cosy. None of her bedrooms had ever looked like this.
Shelagh pulled out the mattress, hidden underneath Timothy's bed. "We'll find a better solution, but for now I'm afraid you'll have to sleep on the mattress on the floor."
Emma shrugged. "I slept on a stone floor last night. Trust me," She smiled. "A mattress sounds amazing right now." She shrugged. "Besides, I've shared a room with my brother for four years. I'm used to sharing."
"You must miss him."
"I do." Emma said, turning around to look at the shelves. "But not more than usual." She cleared her throat. "He died eight years ago." She explained.
Shelagh nodded. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
Emma shrugged. "It's okay. Like I said, it was eight years ago."
Emma shifted on her feet.
Shelagh smiled. "I'll let you get settled in." Before she closed the door, Shelagh turned around one more time. "I believe God brought you here for a reason. I do hope that comforts you." She smiled and closed the door.
Emma sank on to the bed, her head in her hands. The events of the last two days caught up to her. She really was in the past. How could that have happened? And how is she ever going to get back? What is she going to do? A single tear founds its way down her cheek.