Chapter 2 - Whiskey Kind of Girl
Emma woke before the sun, just as she usually did. Normally, she would have gotten right out of bed so that she could start her chores for the day. That morning, Emma took her time. She laid still in bed under the covers, watching Skipper twitch in his sleep at her feet. She watched the light change outside. The sun would rise soon. Emma knew that no matter how long she laid in bed, she couldn't stop the inevitable. Within the next few days, the bank would take the farm. Emma didn't want to be there when their representatives came to claim Hershel's home. She knew she wouldn't have been able to bear it. So, Emma finally got out of bed.
Emma normally bathed at night after a hard day's work, but she had skipped her bath the night before. While water boiled on the stove, Emma fed and watered Skipper. She had a cup of strong black coffee and a piece of dry toast. It was surreal to think it would be her last breakfast in Hershel's kitchen. As she sat drinking her coffee and crunching on her toast, she could almost hear his voice swirling around her. She could hear his hearty laughter and his quiet chuckling. If Emma closed her eyes, it was as if Hershel had never died. They were eating a quick breakfast before getting out to work. Then, they would sit out on the porch with a couple of sandwiches before they finished up whatever else needed to be done. When Emma opened her eyes, she was alone.
When the water was hot, Emma poured it into a basin. She stripped out of her clothes and got into the piping hot water. Skipper came over to investigate, probably puzzled as to why Emma was bathing in the kitchen instead of out on the porch like she usually did. When he was satisfied that all was well, he returned to his food and water bowls. Emma soaked in the hot water, wondering what she was going to do. She planned to ride into Scarlet Town to see if there was any work she could find. If there was no work available, Emma would have to move on. She only had so much saved up. It would cost money to keep her carriage hitched up somewhere.
When the water started to cool, Emma got out of her bath so that she could freshen up and get dressed. She brushed through her loose, blonde curls until they more resembled waves. Then, she pinned those up into a bun at the back of her head. There were tendrils that got loose, but there was little to be done about them. They had minds of their own. She wore one of her men's shirts, a white one, which she tucked into her brown trousers. If she were going to work in that outfit, she would have worn a pair of suspenders.
With nothing more to do in the house, Emma started for the door. She turned and took one last look around. It would be the last time she would see it. The house that was so full of memories, that had been her home for the past five years, not to mention the most stable place she had ever known in her life. She would miss everything about it, from sitting by a warm fire in the winter to waking up every morning to the sound of someone else nearby moving around. Emma felt that she should do something to commemorate her last moment in the house, but she could think of nothing that would best represent just how much her time on the farm had meant to her. So, she did the only thing she knew how.
"Goodbye." Emma whispered to the empty house.
Hershel owned a small carriage. There was enough room for two people to sit on the bench, but barely enough room for the two trunks Emma had to load. They were stacked on top of each other. Emma secured them with heavy ropes while Skipper made himself comfortable on the bench. Then, she hitched Nelly up to the carriage. Emma glanced up every so often at Barrow, who had his head poked out of his stall. He was eyeing Emma curiously. He wanted to know what was going on. Emma wished she could tell him, but all she could do was go to his stall and pet him one last time. She looked up into the horse's brown eyes and tried to soothe him, but Barrow knew something was off.
Before it got any harder, Emma climbed up to sit on the bench next to Skipper. The old dog looked up at her with questioning eyes. Emma gave the dog what she could manage of a smile, and stroked his head until he laid it down in her lap. Then, Emma picked up the reigns. She clicked to signal Nelly that she was ready to go. The old horse didn't need any other encouragement. She started out of the barn and in the direction of town. Emma looked back at the house and the barn as they got smaller and smaller. It was too painful to watch them fade away, so Emma turned back around and didn't look back again. She had to leave the past behind her.
0o0o0
Emma's first stop in town would be the town watering hole. She had a dog and horse to water. So, Emma pulled the carriage up to the community troughs. She pulled Skipper into her arms and got out of the carriage. Emma set the dog on the ground. She made sure that Nelly was drinking before she got Skipper's bowl and dipped it into the trough. The dog lapped up the water noisily while Emma took a drink from her canteen. There was an inn across the street. She would go there to look for work. Either way, she would have to stay there.
When Nelly had all she needed, Emma guided her to the inn front. She tied her to a hitching post.
"Guard the carriage, Skipper." Emma pointed a finger at the dog while petting him with her other hand.
Emma headed into the inn. It was nothing fancy. There was a chow table open to any paying customers and a little bar that served liquor at night and gave out rooms during the day. The owner of the place, Ed Peletier, was behind the bar cleaning out a glass. Emma approached the bar. As she did, Ed looked up from his glass. He gave Emma a smile.
"Hello there, Ms. Thorne." Ed continued cleaning out the glass. "What brings you here today?"
"Morning, Mr. Peletier." Emma took a seat at the bar. "I'm sure it's all over town, what happened with Hershel's farm."
Ed shook his head.
"It's a crying shame." Ed stopped cleaning and sighed. "Hershel was a good man. It's a shame his farm won't stay in the family."
Ed looked down at Emma with a smile.
"By family, I mean you, not his devil children."
"In any case, the reason I'm here is 'cause I'm looking for work." Emma got straight to the point. She didn't have any kind of time to waste. "I was hoping you were looking for some extra help around here. I can do just about anything."
Ed set down the glass, handkerchief balled up inside of it. He set his hands flat down on the bar with a sigh.
"If I could help you out, I would, but I can't afford to hire anyone."
"Do you know of anywhere else in town I could go looking?" Emma asked.
"I don't, but you might try asking the reverend." Ed suggested. "If anyone's looking for extra help, he'll know about it. He'll be able to put in a good word for you, too."
"Thanks, Mr. Peletier." Emma got up from the barstool.
Emma wasn't going to beg Mr. Peletier to reconsider. He could be nice enough, but Emma knew he was a hard nosed man with a short temper. His wife was a quiet little thing because she knew better than to speak out against him.
After checking on Skipper and Nelly, Emma headed down the street towards the reverend's house. It was one of the nicer homes in town with sharp black shutters and a bright red front door to match the name of the town. There was a chapel inside on the first floor. That was where Hershel's service had been held. He and the reverend had been close friends. Emma liked the reverend and his youngest daughter, Amy. His oldest daughter, Andrea, was a different story. She was stuck up and self righteous. She didn't approve of Emma at all, and hated when Amy tried to speak with her or spend any kind of time around her.
Emma knocked on the reverend's door and waited. A few moments later, Amy answered the door with a smile. She was eight years younger than Emma and looked the part with her innocent face and pastel dresses. The ribbons keeping her hair in braids matched her dress perfectly. She looked like a doll.
"Emma!" Amy exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arms around Emma.
"How are you, Amy?" Emma asked, returning the girl's embrace.
Suddenly, though, Amy was letting go of Emma. She looked down at her shoes.
"I'm sorry about the farm, Emma." Amy murmured solemnly.
"Oh, Amy, stop." Emma reached out for Amy's hand so that she would look up at her. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm glad to see you, too."
Amy's smile slowly returned. She squeezed Emma's hand.
"Let's go inside." Amy tugged on Emma so that she would follow. "My pa would love to see you."
Emma closed the door behind her when Amy let go of her hand.
"Pa!" Amy called from the bottom of the stairs. "Pa, Emma's here!"
Amy turned around.
"Let's go sit in the parlor room." Amy suggested, already skipping into the next room.
Emma went into the parlor room after Amy. There were two floral couches across from each other. Amy was seated on one of them. She patted the cushion next to her. Emma sat down beside Amy. She knew Amy and her older sister weren't very close. Andrea was nearly thirty. By the time Amy was three, Andrea was married and living with her husband on the other side of town. She never was able to have children and her husband died in a farming accident around the time Emma came to be on Hershel's farm. Andrea still lived on the other side of town, but she was hardly ever there. It was as if she was trying to make up for lost time with her sister, but the girls had almost nothing in common. The only thing they both enjoyed was fishing with their father.
"What are you doing here in town?" Amy asked, adjusting one of her hair ribbons.
"Well, you know about the farm. I'm here looking for work." Emma leaned into the couch.
"Where are you staying?" Amy asked.
"I suppose I'll stay at the inn." Emma brushed strands of hair out of her face. "Skipper's there now keeping watch over everything."
"You brought Skipper?" Amy asked, her eyes lighting up.
"Of course I brought Skipper." Emma laughed. "You didn't think I'd leave him behind for the bank to take, too?"
Amy suddenly grabbed both of Emma's hands.
"You should stay here with us." Amy said with a bright smile. "I would just love that. I'm sure Pa would, too. He likes you."
"Amy," Emma released one of Amy's hands so she could pat hers, "you should know better than to say things like that without your daddy's permission. This is his house."
Amy sighed.
"You're right." Amy looked down at her lap. "I was being selfish. I was just thinking of how much fun it would be to have you and Skipper here."
Emma placed her hand warmly on Amy's shoulder.
"You were gracious to think of me like that." Emma reassured the girl.
"A father always likes to hear that his daughter has been gracious." The reverend's voice came suddenly from the foyer.
Emma stood up as Amy got up off the sofa to kiss her daddy on the cheek. Reverend Horvath looked away from his youngest daughter to smile at Emma. He was dressed in his black clerical clothes, but that wasn't uncommon. It was rare to see the reverend out of uniform, so to speak.
Emma went to greet the reverend once Amy had stepped away from him.
"Reverend." Emma held her hand out to him.
"Please, Emma, you are my guest. Call me Dale." The reverend shook Emma's hand enthusiastically. "Now, may I ask how my daughter was being gracious just a few moments ago?"
Emma saw the look of horror flash across Amy's face.
"Amy was just concerned about my lodging while I'm here in town." Emma covered for Amy quickly so that the reverend wouldn't be cross with her for offering up the house without his permission. "I let her know that I would be staying at the inn."
The reverend first looked at Amy, then at Emma.
"Have you already rented a room?" Reverend Horvath asked.
"Not yet." Emma replied, putting her hands into her pockets. "Ed sent me here in the hopes that you knew of anyone in town looking for work."
The reverend made a fist.
"Emma, I'm so sorry." The reverend apologized. "Like everyone else, I just assumed the farm would be yours after your meeting with Cap. Had I known you would be looking for work, I would have put in a good word with Gideon."
Gideon Hawkins owned the only general store in town. He and his wife, Lorna, lived above it. Whenever Hershel had needed supplies for the farm, he and Emma had gone to Gideon for all of their needs.
"Were they looking for help at the store?" Emma asked, crestfallen that she had missed out on the opportunity to claim a job.
"They were, indeed." Reverend Horvath sighed and put his hand to his forehead. "I am so sorry, Emma."
"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Reverend."
"Maybe Miss Westin would like some help at the school house." Amy piped up, hoping to be of some help.
Emma knew she had to get out on the town while the day was still young. She would already be spending money on a room at the inn, plus extra for every day her carriage took up space in front of the inn. She needed to find work or move on. To where, she didn't know.
"Thank you anyway, Reverend, Amy." Emma reached out to shake the reverend's hand again before leaving. "I'll try to call on you again while I'm still here in town."
"Still here?" Amy asked concernedly, following after Emma as she made her way to the front door.
"Emma, wait a moment." The reverend said as Emma reached for the doorknob.
Emma turned to face the reverend and his daughter, who looked very worried about what Emma had just said.
"The reason I asked before about the room is because I was going to suggest that you stay here with us." Reverend Horvath put his arm around Amy. "We'd be glad to have you."
Emma was surprised by the reverend's offer. He had always been kind to her, but she would have never expected that he would offer his home to her. She hadn't even considered that possibility when planning out her course of action after leaving the farm. When Amy had made the suggestion before, Emma hadn't taken it seriously. Amy was just an excited teenager making offers she shouldn't have been making without her father's permission. Emma wasn't sure if the reverend had overheard his daughter or not, so she was unsure as to what his motives were for opening up his home.
"I couldn't." Emma blurted out immediately. When she saw the surprise and confusion on the reverend's face, plus Amy's protruding bottom lip, Emma quickly softened her tone. "It's very generous of you, but I couldn't possibly intrude on your routine."
"How could you intrude if I'm making the offer?" The reverend asked, lowering a quirked eyebrow. "How could your presence possibly be an intrusion?"
"Please, Emma?" Amy begged, but her daddy rubbed her arm to silence her.
"I..." Emma glanced behind her at the door. "I don't know how long I would be here."
"It doesn't matter to me whether or not you're here for one day or one year." The reverend let go of his daughter to put both of his hands in his pockets. "Hershel was a good friend of mine. The fact of the matter is, had I known the farm would be taken from you, I would have asked you to come and stay with us the day of his funeral."
Emma could see and hear that the reverend was being genuine. In any case, she figured she couldn't accuse a man of the cloth of being disingenuous. Before living with Hershel, Emma had her reservations when it came to people. She was cynical and skeptical, but then Hershel taught her that there were some people who were truly good and pure of heart. If Hershel trusted the reverend, Emma would, too.
"If I'm going to stay here, I insist on working around here for you." Emma looked up from the floor after making her decision.
The reverend took a few steps towards Emma with a sigh.
"If you feel it necessary to clean up or cook a little from time to time, I won't put up a fuss." Reverend Horvath cracked a smile. "I'm glad you reconsidered."
Amy enveloped Emma in a hug. She then asked Emma if she needed any help bringing the carriage over. Emma insisted that she return for her things alone. She still needed to look for work while she still had daylight. Even though the reverend had told Emma she could stay as long as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't stay forever. She didn't want to stay forever. Emma wanted a place of her own. She wanted to work hard for a home that was all hers.
Emma returned to where she had left the carriage. She saw right away that there was a man standing beside it. He was dressed well, wearing a pair of black slacks with a high collared, white shirt. Over his shirt he wore a maroon vest and a fitted gray coat. He had a black hat in one hand, while the other was petting a lounging Skipper. Emma approached the carriage loudly, getting the attention of the stranger. He looked up at her with a smile.
"I thought I told you to guard the carriage, you useless dog." Emma scolded the lazy dog, but he didn't seem to care.
The man laughed and ruffled Skipper's fur.
"I didn't mean to get you in trouble, boy."
"Can I ask what you're doing, sir?" Emma asked, locking eyes with the stranger from the other side of the carriage.
The man suddenly stopped laughing.
"I'm sorry if I scared you, ma'am-"
"You didn't scare me." Emma corrected the stranger. "I asked what you were doing."
The man held his hat in both hands.
"You probably don't remember me, ma'am, but we crossed paths yesterday morning in front of the courthouse." The stranger explained. "I held the door for you as you were going in."
Emma thought back to the moment the stranger was referring to. She remembered a man opening the door for her, but she had been so consumed with the meeting she was headed to that she hadn't been paying attention to anything or anyone else.
"I remember." Emma tucked a blonde wave behind her ear. "I'm sorry for being so rude. You were only petting my dog."
"You don't have to apologize, ma'am." The man smiled over at Emma. "We haven't been properly introduced, so I could understand why you would be protective of your belongings."
Emma reached for Nelly's reigns.
"Well, if you would excuse me-"
"My name is Clarke Dunlap." The man introduced himself as he walked around the front of the carriage towards Emma, hand outstretched. "Can I ask your name, ma'am?"
Emma gave Clarke's hand a quick shake before she grabbed hold of Nelly's reigns to lead the horse away from the inn. Skipper yawned from his perch.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Dunlap." Emma said simply as she walked past Clarke in the direction of the reverend's house.
"Nice to meet you too, ma'am!" Clarke exclaimed after Emma.
Emma rolled her eyes as she made her way to the reverend's house, but she did glance back once to see Clarke watching her with a grin.
0o0o0
Emma's job hunt was fruitless that first day. Her first night in the reverend's home was somewhat awkward. Amy had done up Andrea's old bedroom for Emma by the time she had returned to the house that evening after searching for work. The bed was freshly made, the furniture had been dusted, and all of Emma's things had been put away. Skipper slept tucked up into bed with Emma. He had lived his whole life at Hershel's farm. Being in a new house was just as jarring for him as it was for Emma. She took comfort in his warm fur, pressing her nose to him so that she could smell the scent of the barn. It took her several hours to fall asleep.
Bright and early the next morning, Emma was up and dressed to get back out in town. She left Skipper behind knowing that Amy would dote on him until she returned. As she descended the stairs to leave, the front door opened. In walked Andrea, whose eyes immediately settled on Emma. They narrowed as she closed the door quietly behind her. She had a basket in one hand. It was full of apples. The other hand settled on her hip.
"Morning, Andrea." Emma greeted Andrea, biting the bullet she couldn't dodge.
"Good morning, Emma." Andrea replied through pursed lips. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm in town looking for work." Emma answered. "Your father was kind enough to offer up his house to me until I'm on my feet."
Andrea lifted both eyebrows, then scoffed.
"You actually took him up on his offer?" Andrea asked in disbelief.
"I did." Emma replied, taking a step to the side. "I'm on my way out right now to start my search again."
As Emma made her way out into the street, she heard the door open behind her.
"Damnit." Emma mumbled to herself before she turned around.
Andrea was without her basket of apples. Her blonde hair was pulled up underneath a lavender bonnet, a navy blue ribbon tucked under her chin. Her large skirt swayed from side to side as she made her way down the steps towards Emma.
"I just can't believe you actually took my father up on his offer." Andrea smoothed her skirt as she spoke.
"Andrea, I'm on my way out to look for work." Emma replied frankly, wanting to avoid having any kind of conversation with Andrea, especially pertaining to her staying at the reverend's house. "If you have a problem with me being here, take it up with your daddy."
"I'm speaking with you." Andrea said coolly. "Before you even think about it, don't try to cause a scene in front of my father's house. I heard all about your run in with Maggie Brooks outside the courthouse yesterday."
Emma cracked a smile as Andrea prattled on about her encounter with Maggie.
"That wasn't me causing a scene." Emma reassured Andrea with a shake of her head.
"Oh?" Andrea lifted an eyebrow.
"No." Emma shook her head. "You'll know when I cause a scene, Andrea."
Andrea appeared very taken aback by Emma's reply.
"If you'll excuse me, then."
Without another word, Emma was on her way. She heard the door shut as she crossed the street to walk along the other side of the dirt road. Andrea didn't bother Emma in the sense that Maggie did, but boy, was she a nuisance at times. Emma didn't understand her demeanor towards her. She figured that if anyone in town could understand Emma, Andrea would. They were both older and single. Andrea lost her husband, but if she wanted, she could already be married again. There were more men in Scarlet Town than women. It was why women didn't stay single for long once they were old enough to be married.
As Emma made her way through town, she suddenly heard a sound to her left. She turned to see Carol Peletier standing in the alley outside the inn. Carol was small and thin. She had that look about her that a strong wind would knock her over. She kept her light, graying hair short. She and Ed had a child late in life, a daughter called Sophia. Carol motioned for Emma to come into the alley. Emma was curious, so she did.
"I heard you were looking for work." Carol spoke in a hushed voice.
"I am." Emma said slowly, confused by Carol's behavior. "I talked to your husband yesterday. He said he couldn't afford to hire anyone."
"That's true, but I had an idea." Carol explained quietly. "You're a good cook, right? Hershel always went on and on about your cooking."
Emma nodded along with what Carol was saying.
"What if you cooked here for us?" Carol asked, glancing over her shoulder quickly. "I usually cook lunch and supper for anyone who wanders in, but without any help, work has been piling up around here and Ed won't..."
Carol looked down at the ground, but before Emma could speak, she looked back up.
"We would both get something out of it. You would be able to cook in the hopes that somebody would hire you and I could have time off from cooking to do other things around here."
"That sounds okay, but what if nobody bites?" Emma folded her arms over her chest. "I can't just keep cooking for ya'll for free. I need money."
"I understand." Carol nodded. "Let's give it a week? Two at the most?"
Emma thought it over. Since she was staying with the reverend, she could afford to work for the Peletiers' for free for a week or two. That would be her limit, though. She didn't want to stay with the reverend and Amy forever.
"All right." Emma agreed. "I'll do it."
"There's just one more thing. I was hoping you would...well, I was hoping you would talk to Ed yourself, make it sound like it was your idea?" Carol admitted sheepishly.
Emma lifted an eyebrow. At first, she wasn't fond of the idea of inquiring about work with Ed only a day after she had already asked. She knew she would look weak and desperate, but then she remembered that stormy night in Hershel's barn.
"All right, Carol." Emma sighed, uncrossing her arms. "You've got yourself a deal."
0o0o0
Ed reacted just the way Emma figured he would. He was very visibly annoyed with Emma for approaching him again about work. After pointing out how much free time Mrs. Peletier would have if Emma did the cooking for the next couple of weeks, and for free to boot, Ed saw the light. He quickly agreed to accept Emma's offer after that. Of course, he wanted Emma to start right away. So, she threw on an apron and got to work making lunch. After taking inventory of all the Peletiers' had in their kitchen, Emma decided on chili.
Emma heated oil in a good quality and good sized skillet so that she could brown the three pounds of chuck she had already seasoned up. It was working to her advantage to be in a well stocked kitchen where she could truly show off her stuff. As Emma cooked, she didn't have to hunt far for the things she needed - beans, seasonings, cornmeal, flour. Emma even found the time to cook up rice and rolls to go with her chili. By the time she had finished, the delicious smells wafting out of the kitchen had attracted double the amount of customers the Peletiers' usually had for lunch. When Emma came out of the kitchen with a pot of rice in one hand and a basket of rolls in the other, the men at the long table cheered.
"Smells good, miss." One of the men licked his chops as he reached for a roll.
Emma smacked him on the back of his hand with her wooden spoon.
"You boys wait until I come back with this chili, you hear?" Emma pointed her spoon at the men sitting impatiently around the table.
"You don't mess with Emma, boys." Al Smith warned the men sitting around him.
"That's right." Emma agreed, pointing one last time at the man who had tried to serve himself. "You wait like a good boy."
"Yes, ma'am." The man complied softly, rubbing his hand.
Emma returned to the kitchen for the chili. She spooned some into each and every one of the bowls when they were lifted up to her. When everyone was served, she gave the go ahead for them to pass the rolls and the rice to each other. It was at that point that the conversation picked back up, and the inn became cheerfully noisy. The men licked their bowls clean and promised Ed they would be back for supper so long as Emma was cooking. Ed was thrilled.
Emma started cleaning up the dishes when she noticed someone watching her. She turned to see Sophia standing near the bar, a schoolbook tucked under her arm. Her face was covered in light freckles and her dirty blonde hair curled in at the ends. She was watched Emma carefully, as though she were studying her for a school assignment.
"How was school, Miss Peletier?" Emma asked the young girl as she stacked up the bowls.
"I gotta go back in a little while." Sophia mumbled, looking down at her shoes. "Miss Westin is helping me with my arithmetic."
"Is that so?" Emma asked, wiping down the table with the rag that had been tucked into her apron.
"Yeah." Sophia slowly approached the table. "I'm not so good with it."
"I never was either." Emma replied, tucking the rag back into her apron.
"Did you go to school?" Sophia asked.
"No." Emma shook her head as she picked up the bowls to take into the kitchen.
Emma could hear and sense Sophia trailing after her.
"How come?" Sophia asked.
"I was too busy working to go to school." Emma explained, depositing the bowls onto the counter.
"I think I'd rather work than go to school." Sophia admitted quietly.
Emma turned around towards the little girl. Their eyes met.
"No you wouldn't." Emma placed her hands on her hips. "Do you know how lucky you are to be getting an education? I can tell that you don't. You should be grateful for Miss Westin, and for parents that send you to class so that you can learn."
"Why?" Sophia asked.
"Learning, knowing things, is an important part of life." Emma replied simply.
"More important than working?"
"How do you think you become a good worker?" Emma asked. "You're able to get things done because you've learned how to do them. How else do you think the town doctor cures people when they're sick, or how the midwife births babies, or how Miss Westin is able to teach you kids arithmetic?"
Sophia was silent.
"It's because they learned how to do those things." Emma murmured. "They were taught in classrooms and in schoolhouses, just like the one you go to every day."
Emma looked at Sophia and wondered how her life would have been different had she gone to school. She wondered where she would be and what she would be doing. She wondered what her life would have looked like, but she had no concept of anything different other than what she had been doing her whole life.
"Run along back to school, Sophia." Emma went to the door leading outside. "I have water to fetch and dishes to do, or would you rather stay and help me?"
Sophia looked down at her book.
"No thanks." Sophia shook her head before jogging out the door.
Emma washed the dishes she had used, then returned to the reverend's house. The reverend was in his office writing his Sunday sermon while Amy had taken Skipper out for a walk through town. So, Emma quietly cleaned around the house so as not to disturb Reverend Horvath. She dusted the furniture, swept the hardwood floors, and gave the pews in the chapel a good wipe down. The work kept Emma busy until she had to return to the inn to make supper. While she tidied up, she thought about what she would make that night. By the time she finished up the housework, she had decided on fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy.
There were already men seated at the table when Emma arrived at the inn. Others were sitting at the bar. As Emma made her way into the kitchen, she recognized Clarke Dunlap sipping on what appeared to be whiskey. When their eyes met, Emma looked away from him before he could smile or speak to her. She wondered why he had shown up at the inn. She knew it couldn't be a coincidence that the day before he had been petting her dog just outside the inn and now he found himself inside after Emma had landed the cooking gig. Emma wondered, as she went out back to kill a few chickens for dinner, if Clarke was interested in her. Men had never really paid her any mind, or if they had, Emma hadn't paid enough attention to notice.
When dinner was ready, Emma carried the pot of mashed potatoes and the skillet full of gravy out to the table. She wasn't surprised to see Clarke seated there. She avoided his gaze once again before returning to the kitchen for the chicken. She couldn't help it when the corners of her mouth lifted when she saw that the men had waited patiently for her return without helping themselves to the potatoes and gravy. Emma slowly made her way around the table, plating the fried chicken along the way. When she got to Clarke, she finally spoke.
"What are you doing here?" Emma muttered just loud enough for his ears.
Clarke smiled up at Emma. He smelled like soap and aftershave.
"I heard you were a great cook." Clarke replied sweetly.
Emma ignored Clarke's compliment as she moved onto the next man. When everyone had been served their chicken, Emma disappeared into the kitchen as they fell onto the mashed potatoes and gravy. She kept herself busy with dishes, but she found herself wondering if Clarke was enjoying the meal and if he was still sitting at the table. As she scrubbed the dishes, Emma tried to decide why she was wondering. Was it because she was hoping Clarke was in need of a cook, or was it because she was intrigued by his interest in her? Emma had to admit that Clarke was attractive in a very put together way. His eyeglasses were polished and his hair was neat and greased. Emma caught a glance of herself in a small mirror hanging on the wall. Several waves had not only snuck out of her bun, but they had curled themselves back into tight spirals. There were suds on her face and neck, not to mention the wet spots on her blouse from splashing water on herself as she washed the dishes. She was a mess. How could someone like Clarke be interested in Emma?
When the dishes were done, Emma went out to collect the men's plates. Most of the men had stayed for a drink, but some of them had gone home. As Emma picked up the dishes, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see Carol approaching her. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand.
"This is from the gentleman at the bar in the brown vest, Mr. Dunlap." Carol explained as she held the whiskey out to Emma.
Emma looked at the bar and saw Clarke sitting there. He lifted a glass to her, wearing the same brilliant smile as before.
"I can't." Emma told Carol as she picked up another plate. "I need to finish up here."
"Let me clean up." Carol said, setting the whiskey down on the table. "You're here to cook, not to clean."
Carol took the stack of dishes and was on her way before Emma could protest. Emma glanced back at the bar. Clarke used his free hand to motion for her. He wanted her to join him at the bar. Emma looked down at the whiskey. She hadn't had a drink in years. Hershel had sworn alcohol off. Emma had been respectful of his lifestyle. She considered her options. She could return to the reverend's home, or she could stay for a drink. Emma had to admit that her discomfort with living under the reverend's roof made the drink very enticing. Before she had truly decided one way or another, Emma found herself carrying the whiskey to the bar to sit beside Clarke.
"I'm sorry for the assumption, but you just seem like a whiskey kind of girl." Clarke nodded to Emma's drink, which she had yet to have a sip of.
Emma picked up the glass. She had a taste of the whiskey. It set her mouth on fire, burning its way down her throat. She swirled the brown liquid around in the glass. The taste reminded her of years that she had put behind her long ago.
"I am." Emma murmured, studying the glass for a moment before setting it back down.
"Supper was delicious." Clarke leaned back in his stool, rubbing his hands up and down his stomach once. "In fact, delicious doesn't even begin to describe it."
"Thank you." Emma replied politely, keeping her eyes on her drink.
Clarke suddenly chuckled. Emma turned to look at him as he shook his head.
"What?" Emma asked, missing the joke.
Clarke returned to an upright position.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Clarke asked, having a sip of his drink.
Emma shrugged.
"I guess not."
"Is it me?" Clarke asked, setting his drink back down.
"Yes." Emma replied bluntly, turning her head to look Clarke in the eye.
Clarke lifted his eyebrows, but he cracked a lopsided smile in confliction with his surprise and confusion.
"What I mean is, I don't know you." Emma continued, running a finger around the rim of her glass without taking her eyes from Clarke's. "I'm not much of a talker to begin with, but when I'm unfamiliar with someone..."
"I see." Clarke gave Emma a nod before he had another drink.
"I'm sorry if that's offensive-"
"No you aren't." Clarke interrupted, setting his glass down.
"Excuse me?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't believe that you'd be sorry if what you said offended me, and if you are you shouldn't be." Clarke explained. "In any case, what you said didn't offend me."
Emma was further intrigued by Clarke Dunlap.
"Clarke, just what is it that you want out of this?" Emma asked right out.
Clarke turned towards Emma. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then wiped his greasy fingers on a handkerchief he produced from inside his vest pocket. Emma watched Clarke carefully as he removed his glasses to polish them with his hanky. It took her only a few moments to realize that Clarke had suddenly become nervous. She stifled a smile as he cleared his throat several times before he finally answered her question.
"Since you have been so blunt with me, I suppose I should extend the same courtesy to you." Clarke cleared his throat again. "I think you're very interesting, and the fact of the matter is...I like you."
Clarke lowered his eyes after his reveal. He ran his palms up and down his slacks. Emma reached out for his drink and picked it up. That caused Clarke to look up. Emma offered the drink to him, which he gratefully took from her. He drank more liberally from the glass than he had before.
"Do you feel better now?" Emma asked, allowing a small smile to seize her lips.
Clarke sputtered after such a large swallow of whiskey. Emma's smile grew.
"I'm not sure." Clarke returned Emma's smile as he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.
Emma took a sip of her own whiskey as she thought about what Clarke had said. He liked her, but why? They barely knew each other. It suddenly donned on Emma that she had never even given Clarke her name. How could Clarke be interested in a woman whose name he didn't even know? It seemed silly to Emma, foolish even.
"You know, Clarke, you don't even know my name." Emma pointed out.
"What does that matter?" Clarke asked.
"Come on." Emma set her drink down. "You seem like a practical person."
"I would say that's a fair assumption." Clarke replied.
"Would you say it's practical for a man to become interested in a woman before he even knows her name?"
"Maybe not." Clarke admitted sheepishly.
"Well, there you have it." Emma finished her drink. "You simply can't have made up your mind about whether or not you like me already. Now, thank you for the drink, but I should be getting home-"
"Wait." Clarke raised his hands as Emma started to rise.
Emma sat back down.
"Let me guess your name."
"What?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing.
"We'll even make a wager to make things interesting." Clarke finished his drink too.
"What sort of wager?" Emma asked warily.
"If I don't guess your name, I'll buy you another drink tomorrow night." Clarke looked down at the floor momentarily before continuing with his idea. "If I do guess your name...I get to kiss you goodnight...on the hand of course."
Emma had to admit that she was impressed Clarke had gotten up the nerve to ask for a kiss, even if it was only on the hand.
"The way I see it, Clarke, you're coming out a winner either way." Emma folded her arms over her chest.
Clarke laughed.
"Give me three guesses."
"All right." Emma agreed with a nod. "You have three guesses."
Clarke fingered his chin as he became lost in thought as to what Emma's name could be. She rested her elbow on the bar, her chin in the palm of her hand. Even though she had been defensive before, Clarke seemed pretty harmless to her. There wasn't a single thing he said all night that signaled a red flag in Emma's mind.
"Is it...Sarah?" Clarke asked. "You look like you could be a Sarah."
"No." Emma replied without lifting her head from her hand.
"Rats." Clarke mumbled, snapping his fingers. "All right. Let's see then..."
Clarke thought it over for a few more minutes before he guessed again.
"Mary?"
Emma shook her head.
"That was a wasted guess." Clarke sighed. "You don't look like a Mary."
"You have one more guess." Emma said, eyeing the clock on the wall.
"Just give me a minute." Clarke insisted. "I almost have it."
Emma waited, glancing at the clock every few seconds. She didn't want to arrive at the reverend's house too late and wake him or Amy.
"Is your name...Emma?" Clarke asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Are you a medium?" Emma asked flatly. "How ever did you guess?"
Clarke hung his head, but grinned.
"Was it that obvious that I already knew?" Clarke asked.
"It was." Emma replied, standing up. "Now, I really do have to go."
"Should I walk you home, Ms. Thorne?" Clarke asked as Emma started to walk past him.
"That wasn't part of your wager, Clarke." Emma wagged her finger at him.
"Well, goodnight then, Ms. Thorne." Clarke stood up to see Emma off.
"Goodnight." Emma repeated as she walked towards the door.
Emma turned to glance over her shoulder as she opened the door to leave. Clarke was watching her go, a smile stretched from ear to ear. Emma gave him a little wave over her shoulder as she left the inn and headed back to the reverend's home.
"Orphan Girl" - Gillian Welch [Emma gets ready to leave, leaves the farm]
"Wrecking Ball" - Gillian Welch [Emma works at the inn]
"Whiskey Girl" - Gillian Welch [Night life at the inn/Emma talks with Clarke]