Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis

Chapter 5

Ember stood in his embrace for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity Eli would gladly spend with her. Unconsciously swaying with her, Eli’s mind went back to the first time they’d swayed like this. Back to a day he replayed often. The day he should have made Emmy his. Whenever their song played on the radio, Ember often brought up the memory, reliving the embarrassing story of her father’s mischief, scheming, and ultimately what was unknown to her—the best, and worst, night of Eli’s teenage years.

* * *

The past

It was prom night. Senior Prom to be exact. Ember was working in the barn, her chores were done, but she wanted to get a few more bales stacked to make the morning chores easier. She bent to pick up the next bale when she heard her father’s approach.

“There’s my baby girl,” she could hear the love in his voice, and though she was seventeen, she loved that her daddy called her, baby girl.

She heaved the large bale up and over, settling it with a heavy thud on the rising stack. Brushing her hands together and then wiping them on her dust-clad jeans, she turned to see her father with an ear-to-ear, Cheshire Cat grin across his face. Oh, shit! She knew that grin. She knew he was up to something, as the smile only shone when he had mischief planned.

It was the same smile he wore when Ember was ten and he taught her how to peel the tape off the Christmas presents to sneak a peek at what was inside. The secret to the 007 mission: her mom reused the wrapping paper from year to year, and with that being the case, it didn’t matter if the paper got a little torn when peeling the tape. It could always be blamed on last year's frenzied excitement of unwrapping gifts. No one was the wiser and each year she and her daddy would bring Christmas early and open each gift whether it was theirs or not. Leave it to her dad to know their spying game wouldn’t be discovered and would live on to be played each year. If her mom ever knew, she never told.

It was also the smile he wore when he let her play hooky from school and convinced her mom that he’d stay home with her and nurse her back to health. And by “nurse her back to health,” he meant a day of fishing, taking the horses on trail rides, maybe ATVing across the pastures or just a day of daddy/daughter time lounging in PJs, eating junk food while watching reruns of Walker Texas Ranger or Riflemen, and hoping mom didn’t come home unexpectedly.

Yup, she knew that grin. But the sinking feeling in her gut told her that she was not going to like what he had in store.

He walked closer. In his hand he held a large, flat, rectangular box. “Have a seat, honey.” He motioned to the single layer of bales she hadn’t stacked yet.

“What are you up to?” she asked slyly, pulling off her gloves and taking a seat.

He sat beside her and stared at the box a moment before looking over at her. “You know I love you, right?”

Oh, shit. That’s not a good preface to a conversation.

“Yeeees,” she said it, holding the word a bit longer for dramatic effect.

He paused. “I think I may have done you a disservice,” he said while running his palm over the box.

“Let me guess, you’re not my biological father.” Ember joked to cut the seriousness of the moment. Her deadpan humor was a trait of her father.

“No…I mean yes. Yes, you are definitely my biological daughter. If not, I have a long-lost twin somewhere, because no one could have given you those baby blues except me. Every time I see them, it’s a carbon copy of my own DNA,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

“Well, mom would have a lot of explaining to do if these aren’t yours.'' Ember fluttered her eyelashes at her dad, tilting her head as if to say Look at these beauties!

“Don’t even joke. Your mother’s off-limits when it comes to your sarcasm.”

There was a silence in the air, and the seriousness was back. The mood hung thick in the air.

“What’cha need, Daddy?” Ember put her hand on her dad’s knee and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“I wanted a boy.”

Ember furrowed her brow, tilting her head in question, and waited for her father to continue. “Go on…” she held onto the statement while trying to figure where he was going with this.

“When your mother and I found out she was pregnant with you, I knew, I knew I was going to have a son. Guaranteed! I just knew it. Someone to play ball with; someone who would like the same sports teams as me; a son who would be my shadow and grow up to be just like his old man.” He paused a moment to catch his breath. “I wanted a son to fix cars, build things, ride on the ATVs. Someone to work right beside me in the hardware store and hopefully run it when I taught him all the things I knew and the day would come to pass it on to him. I wanted a protege, a legacy.”

His voice slowed after the rambling of the long, drawn out declaration. He continued, “The moment I knew I was going to be a father, with a son of my own, I had big plans ahead.”

“You’re not making me feel very good dad...kinda feeling like a disappointment here.” Ember said the words with sarcasm. “Is there a reason you’re tearing my soul out?”

Not looking at Ember and speaking more to the ground, he gave a little chuckle, took a deep breath, and continued without answering her rhetorical question. “Every father wants a son. I don’t know if it’s primal, or just a man’s psyche, but it’s true. I wanted a boy, like my father and his father before him. Hayes Y chromosomes live on!” he said with a grin.

Ember cleared her throat and questioned, “You gotta a point?”

“The moment you were born, when they put you in my arms and you looked at me with my very own eyes, none of that mattered. Not one single thing I thought I needed mattered from that moment on.” He smiled. “The love that I didn’t know I was missing shattered all the things I thought I wanted.”

He went on. “I knew that I would do anything for you. You had my heart from that day and every day since. You had me wrapped around your finger as tight as I was wrapped around yours.” His smile lit his face as he looked over and saw Ember smiling back. She felt moisture in her eyes and blinked it back. “And, I did get my boy, just not in the packaging I thought it would come in.” He bumped Ember with his shoulder and she laughed at his lame dad joke.

“So, where’s this going, and why are you monologuing the story of my disappointing gestation?”

“My point,” he paused, looking over, getting her full attention, “is I raised you just like I would have if you were a boy. Didn’t matter you were a girl, you were my shadow. Everywhere. Couldn’t even go to the bathroom without you waiting on the other side of the door.” He shook his head, “You love the same sports as me; you love the outdoors as much as your old man; you're an amazing marksman,” he corrected himself, “marks-woman.”

“Thank you,” Ember interjected, noting her father’s faux pas.

He went on, “You hunted and camped...worked beside me, absorbed everything hardware and you're only seventeen.”

“Does this mean you’re giving me a raise?” she quipped half-jokingly.

“A lot more to learn, little lady.” He raised one eyebrow while giving her a stern look.

Ember mimicked her father, mirroring him by raising the opposite brow at him.

“Anyway, all these years, I taught you like you were a boy…”

“Ah—”

He cut her off, “Not saying girls can’t do these things, but in the years that you were imitating me, I never gave you the tools to be a ‘girl.’” He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

“Look, I love that you’re a miniature me. Not sure how happy your mother is with that, but that’s not the point. But, it’s oddly satisfying to see myself in female form…”

Ember raised the same eyebrow to her father in question of his possible Freudian slip. “Something you want to tell me, Dad?” She said in consternation.

“There, right there, that’s what I mean. Female body, projecting me.” They broke out into a fury of laughter, slowly catching their composure. “My point,” he went on, “as a dad, I couldn’t be prouder of you. But, there are some things in a young woman's life that need to be experienced.”

“Such as?”

Her father thought for a moment and said, “Learning to put on make-up.”

“Hate that, not doing that, next,” she said with a deadpan face.

“Um…” he searched his thoughts, “buying their first bra.”

Ember hooked her thumb under the neck of her sweat-stained tee and beneath the strap of her sports bra, pulling it upward, exposing it. “Got it covered.”

“First date…”

Ember fell silent.

“First kiss…”

She looked away from her father and off into the distance of the dimly-lit barn.

“First time she brings home a date, and a father gets to put the fear of God into the young man that dares to approach his princess with the desire of deflowering on his mind.”

“Dad!” Ember slapped his arm and blushed as red as her hair.

Softening his tone, he said, “A girl’s last high school dance.”

Ember tipped her head, schooling her father. “You know I’m not going.”

Her father didn’t say a word, but handed her the box.

“Dad? What is this?” she asked while looking at the box.

“Open.”

She inhaled deeply, rolled her eyes and took the box with trepidation.

“Dad...” The word, more a whisper than a sound.

Her dad waited her out, anticipating her opening the box.

Blinking her eyes closed and shaking her head, she slowly removed the lid. Removing the tissue paper, she paused a moment seeing what lay inside. She threw her head back, looking at the barn rafters, and let out a single word. “Da-aa-ad!” She gave a fake, breathy, three-shudder breath, shaking her shoulders for full effect. “Dad, no...why? What is this?” she pleaded.

Her dad waited for her theatrics to dwindle before answering, “Humor me. Go inside, clean up, and put on the dress.”

“No, Dad. I’m not going to some stupid prom.” She looked down at the light pink dress, “And, pink! Really?”

“Ember.” He waited until her eyes met his. “Please, for me. Please.”

Ember saw the pleading in his eyes though he didn’t show it in his voice. She shook her head and looked back down at the pink nightmare laying in the box. “I’m not going to the prom.”

Her dad sat silent.

“I’ll humor you, old man,” she shook her head back and forth slightly, “but, promise, I won’t have to go to the stupid school dance. Promise.” The last word was a stern plea. She held out her pinky which her father wrapped around his and they shook on it, just like the pinky promises he made with her as a child.

“Wrapped around my finger,” her dad said with a grin and tightened his pinky around hers.

With that, Ember stood, hoisting the box under her arm with no finesse and headed out the barn doors towards the house.

Mitch watched her leave, and when she was out of sight, he laid his head in his hands and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to give her this moment. Even if it meant she was kicking and screaming the entire way.

* * *

After taking the world's quickest shower, Ember stepped into the floor-length, formfitting dress. It hugged the developing womanly curves of her youthful body quite nicely. It was the lightest hue of pink—more of a crepe pink, than a pink-pink. Nothing that would make her want to vomit, so it was doable.

In all truthfulness, Ember was kind of hoping to go to this dance, her Senior Prom, a milestone of high school most got to experience. But, of course, she was non-existent to the boys in her grade. None of them paid her any attention.

Not true.She corrected her thoughts. Elijah was the only boy on the planet who knew she existed, probably the only one in the universe, and she was hoping he would’ve asked her to the prom. But, he had to work and wouldn’t be able to go even if he wanted. He worked constantly, taking any hours he could get, always asking her father for extra shifts his co-workers didn’t want. Ember knew he was most likely saving for college, and he helped his mom with the bills even though she, too, worked at the hardware store. But, he didn’t want his mom to have to scrape by to make ends meet, so he helped her every chance he got. Not only financially, but fixing her clunker of a car, doing chores around the house, yard work, running her errands. He was the man of the house before he was eighteen.

Ember fingered the bodice of the dress and looked at her reflection in the mirror. This was the girliest she could remember seeing herself. God’s honest truth, she really liked the color—it actually complemented her hair instead of contrasting with it as was the case with almost any color palette she wore. She pulled the elastic tie from her hair’s messy bun. She kept her hair up in the shower, not wanting to have her masses get wet. The fiery curls cascaded over her shoulders and around her face, framing it, making the paleness of her ivory skin seem a bit more rosy. She would do the dress but would draw the line on make-up. Make-up and girly-girl was her sister Rhys’ thing. Ember didn’t do makeup, and she’d refuse if that was her father’s next request.

She turned in the mirror to see the back of the dress. The smooth material clung to her ass. An ass Ember wasn’t aware she possessed. It was always buried beneath denim or sweatpants. Not exactly flattering and accentuating to her derriere.

Also, inside the box, she’d found a strapless bra and matching lacy panties. Her boobs were a little too full to go braless and her black sports bra was not going to cut it with the cut and straps on the bodice. Reluctantly, she had to wear the new one. And when she slipped on the lacy panties, she despised the instant wedgie it gave her.

Feeling as ready as she was ever going to be, she left the bathroom in search of her humiliating doom of modeling the dress for her parents. Luckily, Rhys had already left for the dance, so Ember was thankful she wouldn’t have to endure her sister’s incessant ridicule of all the fashion faux pas she was committing. She loved her younger sister—the two were surprisingly close—but Rhys was over the top and a drama queen. Ember thought of her as valley-girl-meets-the-Kardashians. Heaven help the poor sap who ended up with her. Ember shivered at the thought of the poor man.

She navigated the stairs, lifting the dress knee-high and un-lady-like to make sure she didn’t fall ass-over-tea-kettle down the steps. Although, if she did take a dive down the staircase, maybe it would get her out of having to parade the stupid thing. As tempting as it was, she carefully continued her descent of the stairs.

Entering the living room, her mother rose at the sight of her with a hand cupped over her mouth as she inhaled sharply. Her dad sat stoic, his eyes taking her in from head to toe. She was sure she wasn’t striking the correct pose as she stood, posture slumped like Quasimodo, and her arms dangling at her sides. More in the likeness of a wet cat than a prima donna.

Her mother came to her and Ember was afraid her mom was going to burst into tears. “You look stunning, Ember,” she said in a tone on the verge of cracking, “absolutely stunning. Turn.” She motioned with her finger, circling it in the air.

Ember complied, turning in the most ungraceful circle, continuing the dog-and-pony show.

“So pretty.” Then her mom scampered out of the room saying, “Shoes. Gotta get the shoes.”

Ember turned to her father, who was still sitting, and mouthed the word Shoes? His eyes were still soaking her in. “Dad, I don’t need shoes. I’m not leaving this house.” Her voice was serious and tinged with a bit of anger.

Mitch stood in one smooth motion and slowly approached his firstborn. No words were said; he just drank her in. Putting both hands on her nearly bare shoulders, he closed his eyes and tipped his forehead to hers. She stood in silence giving this moment to him. Without lifting his head, he whispered, “You’re beautiful, baby girl. Nothing but absolute beauty.”

Ember felt the rush of tingles in her nose and behind her eyes. She wasn’t a crier, but this moment, with her daddy, could have opened floodgates if she allowed it. He pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

“Daddy? You’re making this really awkward. Even more awkward than the awkward it was to begin with.”

She could feel her father's smile against the crown of her forehead.

“Thank you, baby girl, for giving this moment to your old man.”

Ember blinked away the moisture pooling in her eyes.

“Shoes, I got shoes!” Her mom entering the room broke the awkwardness Ember was experiencing.

Her mother laid a pair of low-heeled, white satin shoes at her feet and Ember stepped into them, thankful they weren’t the skyscrapers Rhys wore. Sprained ankles weren't in her forecast. Ember stood, not sure of the purpose of the whole show, when her mom pumped a tube of mascara in front of her, holding the wand out to Ember’s eyelashes.

“Mom! No. No make-up.” She looked over to her dad and saw the plea in his expression. Surrendering in defeat, she fluttered her lashes at her mom and endured the torturous primping. Before she could step back though, her mom swept a brush across her cheeks, painting them as well.

“Okay, enough!” Ember said stepping back, careful not to trip on her dress.

“Okay. Okay. I’m done.” Her mom waved her hands, “I’m done.” Ember didn’t think she could endure any more. “You look beautiful, sweetie,” her mom said as she held up a hair clip and gave her daughter a hangdog look.

“Fine,” she said with a huff, and her mother pinned up one side of her red locks.

Her mom stepped to the side and sprayed a mist of perfume in the air above Ember’s head, and the light fragrance danced down over her body. Ember gave a stink-eyed glare and her mother sweetly smiled back at her.

Mitch joined their little huddle. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning. My two favorite girls in the world.” He wrapped them both in his embrace.

“What about Rhys, dad?” Ember asked, knowing she was calling him out.

He chuckled, “I mean, my two favorite girls in this room.” Ember laughed when her mom gave him a disdainful glare.

The doorbell peeled throughout the house, and her parents gave each other a knowing look. The Cheshire grin made another appearance. Oh shit! Ember felt a jolt of panic course through her. No way was she going to the stupid prom.

From the living room, she heard the front door open and shut in the foyer. Whoever it was just let themselves in. She was about to voice her defiance when her body went stiff and her jaw went slack.

Standing in front of her was Eli. He was dressed in a black suit, coat buttoned at the waist, complete with a crepe-colored bow tie that matched the pink of her dress. His hair looked freshly cut and his short beard trimmed tight and neatly groomed. For an eighteen-year-old, he grew a sexy-as-fuck beard. He was gorgeous! Knock-down, wet-your-panties gorgeous. The full grin on his face slowly fell when he took in the sight of her. The shock of seeing him rose to self-consciousness, as she tried to figure out what made his smile flatten. She pressed her hands to her stomach, flattening the material under her palms, and then skimmed the waistline down the sides of her hips and then down the lengths of her upper thighs.

Her parents left the room, her dad slapping Eli on the shoulder as he ushered Susan in front of him, and it was now just them. Eli and Ember. She stood awkwardly, imagining her self-consciousness was easy to read.

He closed the gap between them, gently putting a hand on her jaw and lightly caressing her cheekbone. “You look beautiful, Emmy,” he said, staring into her eyes and giving one more swipe of his thumb, then lowering his hand.

“Emmy? You haven’t called me that since grade school.” Her cheeks deepened with a faint blush.

“I guess it just popped out. Didn’t even think about it.” He fumbled, “Here, these are for you.” He handed her a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers, some still with their roots and dirt dangling from them. “Sorry, they're not the prettiest things, but I forgot a corsage...and I didn’t have time to stop and get you flowers, so...yeah…I picked them in the field before I came in.” He gave a little one-shoulder shrug. “They’re actually pretty sad.” He reached for them with embarrassment to take them back.

“No!” she said, pulling the bouquet out of his reach, her voice a little more forceful than she meant, “I think they’re precious,” her tone quieted, “they’re beautiful.”

And they were beautiful, roots and all. Anyone could buy a dozen roses or an expensive bouquet, but Eli took the time to gather these, even if it was spur of the moment, because he knew she’d like them. They were the most precious thing anyone had ever given to her.

Her mom rushed back into the room, digital camera in hand, “Almost forgot, gotta get a picture!” Her exuberant happiness and glee were a bit too cheery for Ember.

“Mom!” Ember whined. “Really?”

“I promised Elijah’s mom I’d get a picture.” Her dad tried to feign an I'm sorry look, but his stifled grin betrayed him. He was loving this.

“One picture. And don’t show any of your friends!”

“Geez, a mother can’t have any fun, can she?”

“Not at my expense.” Ember volleyed back.

Her mother took pictures, a lot of pictures. As many as Ember assumed were taken at a Hollywood movie premier. The type where the actors are blinded by a barrage of flashes...Yes, that many pictures.

“Okay, that’s enough,” her father said, as her mom took one more. “Leave the kids be.”

Ember’s eyes met her father’s and she silently thanked him.

“Have a nice night, kids.” Her father nearly pushed her mother out of the room, and Ember stood in mortification.

“Well, that went well.” Eli laughed.

“That’s your definition of well?”

“Could have been worse.”

Ember shamelessly shook her head. “Yeah, the house could have started on fire, and we all could have perished in a fiery death. That would have been about the same.”

Eli laughed at her over-the-top comparison. “I'm actually glad she got so many pictures. I can’t wait to get copies.”

Ember’s heart bloomed and she too couldn’t wait to see them.

“Shall we go?” Eli motioned his hand towards the foyer, and Ember’s eyes rounded.

“Go where? I’m not going to the school. Please, say we're not going to the school.” The fear rose in her voice.

“Nope.” With his voice softened and leaning into her ear, he spoke softly, “We’re going somewhere way better.”

“Where?”

Eli lifted one brow and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers, a gesture Ember loved. It settled her nerves. She trusted him implicitly, so she followed him out the door into the unusually warm springtime night.