Chapter Sixteen: The Phone Call

"Emily!" Mrs. Hawkins called up the stairs, "There's someone here to see you!"

"Coming!" Emily responded from the bathroom as she dodged in to check her appearance. Deeming herself ready, she descended to the living room to find a tall, dark-haired man sitting and talking to her mother.

At her approach, he stood and bowed slightly. Mrs. Hawkins also stood. "Emily, honey," she said by way of introduction, "This is Jameson Tallent. I believe you know each other from your lit class?"

Now that she had a frame of reference, Emily could finally place his face. She sat a few rows behind him in her basic modern literature class and she'd always considered him rather stuffy and too smart for his own good. A typical California airhead. She betrayed none of these thoughts, however, as she put on a polite smile and extended her hand. "Mr. Tallent. Professor Engle's class, right?"

"The very same," he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. "I've wanted to meet you personally for some time. You've grown on me quite a bit."

"Jameson told me that he would be interested in taking you to dinner sometime and wished to know when you were available," Emily's mother said, smiling broadly. She leaned forward and said in a low voice that only Emily could hear, "He's a nice boy and I thought he might take your mind off of that Shepard boy."

Emily bristled suddenly. "Mom, Jerry is twice the man this spoiled kid is. And I don't need to –"

"Em?" Brockton suddenly interrupted, leaning around the corner from the kitchen. When she turned to look at him, he held out the phone. "Someone wants to talk to you. A doctor McLarey or something."

Feeling a wave of relief that she'd been spared any further argument with her mother, Emily covered the distance between her and Brockton in a few strides. She pulled her brother around the corner. "Brock, you have to help me," she whispered urgently. "I don't want to date him; I don't want to see him. Scare him off if you can, please?"

Brockton said nothing. Instead, he glanced pointedly at the phone resting on the counter, waiting for her. "You still have to take that call, big sis," he said in a low voice.

Pursing her lips in frustration, she sent him a wrathful glance and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Emily Hawkins?" Dr. McLaren's voice inquired.

"This is she."

"Katie Yamesch told me to call you. She said you might be up for a little trip down south," he replied, hesitating ever so slightly on the last word.

Feeling a wave of suspicion, Emily quickly asked, "How far south?"

"Oh," the doctor's voice came across dripping with casualness, "just to your old stomping grounds in Antarctica…"

"Are you crazy?!" Emily yelped, nearly dropping the phone. She'd expected those words since she heard who was calling, but hearing them directly from Dr. McLaren still shocked her. "It's the dead of winter!" Hearing this, Brockton looked up and glanced sharply out the window, where the sun poured its punishing heat on the parched brown grass in the back yard. His brows knitted in confusion, but he said nothing.

Dr. McLaren chuckled softly. "Yes, Miss Hawkins, it is the dead of winter down there, but Jerry hasn't given us much choice. He's already down in New Zealand, looking to barter for passage across. He's going after the dogs."

"Of all the stupid, harebrained, idiotic things to do," Emily growled feelingly. "He's a moron to go down there alone, what if something happens to him?"

"That's why we're going down, Emily," Dr. McLaren pointed out. "Katie and Charlie have already agreed to meet me at the San Francisco airport tomorrow morning. They were both hoping you'd come with us."

This was her opportunity to skip out on Jameson, Emily realized suddenly. She had more than enough money saved away to cover the cost of the trip and she could pack and make the two-hour drive to Frisco tonight, spend the night in a motel, and meet the others in the morning. It was brilliant. "Of course I'll come," she said aloud into the phone. "What time does our flight leave?"

"Eleven 'o clock, on the dot," Davis McLaren told her. "We'll want to be there at around ten, though, so plan on it, okay? Thank you, Emily."

"Thank you," Emily returned sincerely before hanging up the phone. Now to break it to Mom, Emily thought apprehensively. Rubbing her hands on her pants, she took a deep breath and stepped back into the front room.

Emily was not wholly surprised to see her mother on her feet, hands on hips and glaring reproachfully at her. Of course she'd listened in to the conversation. "Are you seriously considering this, honey?" Mrs. Hawkins asked abruptly, in a dangerous tone. "I will not have you taking off who-knows-where after that-that-that ruffian."

"But…" Jameson put in, looking confused and distressed, "I thought we had a date!"

"You are crazy, 'Mily," Brockton stated lazily. Of all the people in the room, he was the only one still sitting, comfortably sprawled across the overstuffed armchair.

Emily looked at each person in turn, weighing her words before responding to their comments. "First of all, Mom, it's not 'who-knows-where.' Antarctica is more my home than California is, and I know it like the back of my hand. And secondly, Jerry is not a ruffian, or a jerk, or a boy, or any other disrespectful term you care to use on him. He's one of the best men I know."

"Then you obviously need a larger sampling, honey," her mother hissed, her green eyes – so like Emily's – flashing dangerously. "I think it's high time you spend time with a refined, cultured young man, not the rough-and-tumble military and risk-taking company you've been keeping for the past few years."

"Mom," Emily moaned in exasperation, "Mom, I'm twenty-six for heaven's sake! I've been living totally on my own for almost eight years and now you think you can run my life again? I'm a bush pilot! It's in my blood, Mom! Remember Dad?" She knew she was treading on dangerous ground now – she could see it in her mother's eyes – but she had to make her mother understand, once and for all. "I know you want to forget, Mom. Believe me, I really do understand. It's because of Dad's love for flying in the Far North that he's no longer with us, and you don't want anything to do with it anymore." She paused for a moment, feeling the tension in the room as Brockton stared at her with mouth hanging open and as Jameson's eyes bounced between her and her mother as though watching a tennis match. "But I do. This is the kind of thing that would make Dad's blood race. He loved to go in against impossible odds, just to prove that he could get out again. Even if I didn't care about Jerry the way I do, I would still do this. It's as much a part of me as my breath, Mom." She studied her mother for a moment before lowering her eyes slightly. "I'm sorry that it hurts you, I really am."

She started to turn away, then thought better of it and turned back, her eyes falling on Jameson. "Sorry to disappoint you, Jameson," she said gently, "But I didn't come back to California to fall in love. Or even to stay for very long. I'm just leaving a little sooner than expected. Believe me, there wouldn't have been time to get to know each other." She reached out and clasped his hand, shaking it firmly, then turned again to her mother. "I'm leaving tonight for San Francisco. I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll write, I promise." For a long moment, she simply stood, staring at her mother. "I love you, Mom," she said at length, stepping forward to give her a quick embrace before going up to her room to pack.

Author's Note: Hello to all my faithful readers! Sorry it took so long to update this story! I'd been working on a different one and it was going well, so I temporarily set this one aside rather than risk my good train of thought for the other one. But here is the next chapter. And thanks to all of you who PM'ed me and reviewed on my other stories to ask for this one to be updated. You have no idea how good that makes me feel. Thank you and don't forget to review!