The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 14
EMMA, THE EXTRAORDINARY
Thomas broke the news to his family that weekend, and it went much like they’d thought it would. As Thomas had relayed to her on the phone, Mr. Barnes had stormed out after a shouting match, assuring Thomas he’d never give him another dime. Mrs. Barnes had finished her drink and poured another. Emma had gone to her room.
Over the course of the next week, Emma refused to take Annalisa’s phone calls, and Annalisa had to work hard not to let the Barnes family’s lack of support knock her down. She and Thomas had made their choice, though, and as Nonna said, it was theirs and theirs alone to make.
Toward the end of April, after the snow was gone, Annalisa invited herself over to their house for the first time. Try as he might, Thomas was having very little success prying Emma from her gloom, so Annalisa hoped she might have better luck. She’d been there, feeling all alone, and she didn’t want Emma to think she’d abandoned her.
It was just a matter of finding a time when Mr. Barnes wasn’t home. Thomas suggested that coming Saturday. His father, desperate to get out on the course after the long winter, planned to play thirty-six holes at the club and then would have dinner with his buddies.
Thomas picked her up early in the morning, and as they’d done several times lately, he stopped at an exit to let Annalisa test her driving skills on a quiet country road. She practiced parallel parking between two logs that Thomas had rolled out onto the road. It took her quite a few tries before she finally pulled it off. She rewarded her driving instructor with a kiss and a little bit more before they continued on to see if they could team up to help Emma.
When they arrived, Annalisa found the Barneses’ house to be even more intimidating than Annalisa had anticipated. “This isn’t really yours, is it?” Annalisa asked as they crunched gravel down the long driveway leading to a big white colonial revival house with tall columns.
“I know. It’s almost ridiculous.”
Almost?she thought.
Thomas parked on the left side and pointed through the windshield toward the water. “That’s Wilby Island out there past the cove.”
This was the first time she’d truly grasped what Thomas was losing. He’d told her they were wealthy, which was no surprise considering his father was a lawyer and they lived in Davenport, but seriously. “I can’t believe you grew up in this house. Are you sure you want to say goodbye to all this . . . for me?”
He took her hand and pecked her cheek. “If I were an emperor, I’d say goodbye to my entire kingdom for you. What’s all this if you don’t have the person you love to enjoy it with?” She would have rolled her eyes had he not said it so sincerely. As much as a sports guy as he was, she thought he, like his sister, had art in his soul.
Fair enough,she thought. He won. Again. And she loved it, the idea that he would never waver from his love or their decision. To give this all up for her. What a display of his affection. No, not affection. What a display of his devotion to her.
Leaving the car, they rounded the monstrosity to take in the full view of the cove. A wide expanse of grass turning green after winter looked to have been rolled down like carpet from the house to the water. Annalisa imagined it would take her six hours to mow all of it, but surely they had a team of landscapers. It was a splendid cloudless day, windy but magnificent. Whitecaps collided on the surface of the water. She wondered what it would be like to live here, to never have to worry about money, to wake up with a view of the water. Was it jealousy she felt? Perhaps more craving than jealousy.
Atop a tall pole near the shore, the Maine flag and a yellow-and-blue windsock gently whipped in the wind. Thomas pointed to the sailboat that danced with the current at the end of the dock. “That’s our new Hinckley, my dad’s pride and joy.” She followed his finger to the smaller boat tied to the opposite side of the dock. “And that Boston Whaler Montauk is mine. Well, at least it was. I’m sure my dad will be reacquiring it.”
He led her through the side door into the kitchen, where Mrs. Barnes waited with a tray of cookies. “I’m delighted you’re here, Annalisa, truly.” Her bright-green apron looked like it had never been worn before.
Annalisa took one of the chocolate chip peace offerings from the tray and took a bite. “They’re delicious,” she lied, thinking that if you dated outside of Italian, you were lowering the bar as far as food was concerned. She tried not to gape as she looked at all the fancy appliances peppering the elaborate kitchen. Nonna would have flipped.
Mrs. Barnes set down the tray. “I’d like to say something to both of you, if you don’t mind.”
Annalisa glanced at Thomas, who looked as caught off guard as she was.
“I’m . . .” Her eyes reddened. “I’m happy for you both, and I’m sorry for the way Bill is handling the situation. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he’s as hardheaded as they come. Thomas, as I’ve told you a million times, he only wants the best for you—”
“And he’s the best at showing it,” Thomas interrupted.
“Let me finish,” Mrs. Barnes said sternly. “I’m afraid he doesn’t know what the ‘best’ is. His parents were the same way. They essentially forced him into law school and tied him to a desk at the firm. I’m glad you’re going your own way, and I suppose choosing the woman you love is a part of that freedom.” She turned to Annalisa, who was happy to hear such sincerity.
“From what Thomas and Emma have told me,” she said, “he’s lucky to have you, and . . . he cares so much about you. No matter what Bill has to say, I don’t want to miss out on my son’s future. On both of your futures. I support the two of you in your move, and I’m happy to see that you’re so in love. Believe it or not, Bill and I felt that way for a long time . . .” Pain suddenly painted her face.
“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes,” Annalisa said, truly touched by her words.
Thomas stepped toward his mother. “That means a lot, Mom. Thank you.” They hugged awkwardly, and Annalisa thought that Mrs. Barnes looked terribly lonely, just like Nonna.
After they broke apart, she brushed off her hands on her apron like she was dusting away the past. “Anyway, you two go enjoy yourselves. I just wanted to say my piece.”
“Where’s Emma?” Annalisa asked. Maybe Mrs. Barnes and Emma were both coming around. “I’d like to say hi.”
Thomas started to leave the kitchen and gestured for her to follow. “She’s upstairs.”
Mrs. Barnes untied her apron, as if her work were done. “She’ll come down in a little while.”
Annalisa followed Thomas down a hallway, took a left, then a right, then went down another hallway before entering the living room. She almost said that she could fit her whole house in this room, but she didn’t want to show how uncomfortable she felt. It wasn’t only the house. No matter how many cookies Mrs. Barnes made—or how many confessions she gave—this place still didn’t feel warm. Neither the moose head above the mantel nor the watercolors of golf courses helped.
“I’ve never seen so many pillows in my life,” she whispered, studying the fancy furniture that was arranged to look through the large, polished bay windows out over the water. She gawked at the massive oil painting above the couch, wrapped in a gold-gilded frame. It captured a typical Maine day in the fall: sailboats and fishing boats bobbing on the water, seagulls nose-diving into the water, lobstermen dumping their catches onto the deck, the wind snapping the mast lines and rippling the water.
This was exactly what she never wanted to paint: classic Davenport. Impressive but not disruptive. She sat on a couch, noticing its stiffness. She put her hands behind her head and stared out over the water. “So this is what it’s like to be Thomas Barnes. What a life.”
Thomas sat next to her. “Trade you.”
He had a point there. “Maybe for an afternoon, but I can’t paint this view.”
“And it won’t be mine to trade anyway,” he added with an uncharacteristic coldness.
Feeling like she was on a mission and hoping she might melt some of the cold in this house, she asked, “Do you mind if I go see Emma? It’s really been bothering me. Which one of the fifty bedrooms is hers?”
Armed with his directions, she climbed the stairs and enjoyed a look at Thomas’s family photos as she walked down the long hallway that echoed with each step of her boots. When she reached Emma’s door, she gave a quick knock. A Beatles record played on the other side.
“Hi, Emma, can I come in? It’s Annalisa.” Putting her ear to the door, all she could hear was Paul McCartney’s voice offering to sing a lullaby.
After a second knock, she said much louder, “Emma?”
“What do you want?” came her angry voice from the other side. “I have nothing to say to you.”
It had been more than a week since Thomas had broken the news, and it was clearly still an open wound. “Please, I just want to talk.”
When no answer came, she tested the knob and pushed the door open. A sallow-faced Emma sat in a puffy chair in the back of the room next to her record player. Her arms were wrapped around her shins, and she was barefoot.
“I didn’t say you could come in,” Emma snapped.
“I want to explain myself,” Annalisa said softly, stepping farther into the room uninvited. The walls were a mustard yellow, and other than the records scattered across the floor, the room was clean and orderly. She could see the sailboat through the window behind Emma.
“I get that you’re hurting,” she said, “but I don’t want you to think we’re leaving you. The first thing we talked about was how excited we were to get you down to Portland . . . as often as you’d like.”
Without even a glance Annalisa’s way, Emma said, “You’re taking him from me.”
Not surprised by the accusation, Annalisa took another step, noticing Emma seemed off in some way. Was her anger causing her glazed eyes and slurred speech? “You’re seeing it wrong. I’m not taking him from you at all. We’re good together, the three of us. Our moving doesn’t change that. We’ll still see each other all the time. I love your brother, Emma. Surely you can understand that.”
“Oh, I understand it all right.”
The Beatles song ended, leaving only the crackle of the record. Emma unfolded and put her bare feet onto the rug. “He doesn’t even see me anymore since you showed up,” she snarled. “He’s leaving me and it’s your fault!”
“That’s not true,” Annalisa said, unable to believe this was the same girl who’d painted with her on the front porch, the one who’d spoken of a forest of singing trees. “I’ve never seen a brother love a sister like he does you, and nothing will ever stop that. There’s room for both of us, you know?” Still a few feet away, Annalisa knelt down so as not to be intimidating. Though she was trying to act calm, she was burning inside. “Are you okay?”
Emma turned her glazed eyes her way. “I can’t stand you, and I hated painting with you. You’re not even that good.”
“I know you don’t mean that.” The girl’s words hurt.
The music started up again, the Fab Four singing “Carry That Weight.” Emma sloppily pushed up from the seat. Annalisa wondered if Emma was about to attack her. Instead, the young girl wobbled and dropped to the floor.
Instantly terrified, Annalisa rushed to her. “What’s going on with you?” The music was so loud suddenly, making the situation even more tense.
Back on the chair she saw a pill bottle, and a tremendous fear seemed to wrap its fingers around her throat. She grabbed the bottle and read the typed print. Under Elizabeth Barnes’s name, Annalisa found the prescription: Valium.
Running on adrenaline, she pulled Emma up onto her lap and steadied her face, patting her cheek to wake her. Her eyes were open, but she was long gone. Out of pure instinct, she pushed her fingers into Emma’s mouth, feeling and searching for pills.
“How many pills did you take?” she asked.
“What does it matter?” Emma slurred. “I’m not living here alone. Why do you care?” Her glazed eyes rolled into the back of her head. “I’m making it easier on everyone . . .”
Emma seemed to be losing consciousness, and her eyes closed.
“Thomas!” Annalisa screamed, trying not to completely lose it. “I need help!”
She wasn’t sure what to do but needed to act quickly. After screaming for help again, knowing this house was too damn big for her voice to carry across it, she decided maybe she could get the girl to throw up. Not that she had any training, but it was worth a try before she left her to find help. Emma rolled over without any resistance, and Annalisa thrust two fingers down her throat.
“Emma,” she said desperately, “you have to help me here. You need to throw up.”
The girl mumbled incoherence.
“Thomas!” Annalisa yelled, hearing the fright in her voice.
Emma heaved, as if she were choking, and Annalisa pushed her fingers deeper down her throat. Then up it came, Emma’s vomit spilling out onto the rug. Annalisa saw melted orange pills and syrupy orange liquid amid the muck.
Knowing there was nothing else she could do, Annalisa pushed up to a stand. “I’m getting help, Emma. Be right back.” She raced out of the room.
Straight off the golf course, Mr. Barnes came running into the waiting room of the Davenport Medical Center. “Where is she?” Fear and anger gripped his words. A grass stain striped the cuff of his right pant leg, and his golf glove poked out of his back pocket.
Thomas and Annalisa had been at the hospital for an hour and sat in one of the chairs that lined the wall, half of which were occupied by people anxiously awaiting more news about their loved ones. The room reeked of bleach, sickness, and sadness.
Upon hearing Mr. Barnes’s voice, they both looked up. Thomas pointed down the hallway to their right. “Room 301. With Mom. She’s okay, Dad. Annalisa saved her life.”
Mr. Barnes gave a viciously angry shake of the head and ran past the front desk and pushed through the swinging doors.
Thomas slumped over, and Annalisa put her hand on his back. She didn’t have much left to say, but she hated that he felt responsible. It was almost all he’d talked about since they’d arrived at the hospital. Thank God, Emma was stable. The doctors had pumped her stomach and given her fluids. She was now talking.
Annalisa felt responsible too. How couldn’t she? No, she hadn’t given Emma the pills, but Annalisa had known all along Emma wouldn’t take the news of their moving to Portland well. She should have been there when Thomas broke the news to Emma. Or maybe she should never have asked Thomas to go in the first place. She felt so incredibly torn apart inside, and her heart hurt for Emma, knowing that she’d taken such a horrific step to end her life. It was an action that would be hard to ever leave in the past.
As they sat there in silence, doubt filled her mind. That morning she was all in, but she couldn’t shake seeing Emma’s face as she lost consciousness, her vomit spilling out of her mouth.
All Annalisa had to do was to listen to those around her, and none of this would have happened. Nonna, who had no hidden agendas, had warned her. Even Mr. Barnes, who was proving to be right in this circumstance, had told Thomas and her that they should end things.
But no, Annalisa had let her heart steer the way. She’d ignored Nonna and Thomas’s parents, and most important, her own rationality, deciding that her feelings for Thomas had to be explored. A lot of good that decision had done. She was effectively breaking this family apart.
She attempted to tell herself, No, this has nothing to do with me. If it wasn’t for Thomas deciding to leave Davenport, Emma might still have eventually ended up in this hospital. She was fragile . . . and she’d tried to hurt herself once before. That line of thought carried only so much weight.
Pressing her eyes closed, she wished it all away, wondering where Emma might be if Annalisa had chosen not to go to the Cold River concert, or if she’d at least been sensible enough not to drink and smoke herself into a stupor. Even the next day, she could have told Thomas to leave before her aunt had forced him into the house for Saturday supper. Or all she had to do was restrain herself and her little schoolgirl heart from writing her number on his hand. That was what had done it. That was the moment that had switched the tracks of poor Emma’s train, eventually bringing her to this hospital while Annalisa had her hand on the back of a guy whose life she was ruining.
No doubt she loved Thomas—and Emma, too, and she knew it because her heart broke for both of them. Seeing Thomas slouched over, his hands covering his face, she knew he was blaming himself, and she wanted to pull him out of it. As if she could. She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been Emma’s only light. Her guilt choked her as she thought about what she was doing to this family, wedging between all of them.
Annalisa wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts, wishing he’d never pursued Annalisa. Or maybe not. Maybe he wasn’t questioning their relationship, but he was surely questioning his decision to move to Portland.
She questioned his moving too. As much as she loved him and wanted to be with him every minute going forward, life wasn’t that simple, was it? As they’d both anticipated, his going to Portland would have consequences not only for his life but for Emma’s too. Her throat tightened, and her stomach ached with guilt as she rubbed his back.
Mr. Barnes burst through the double doors. Without regard for the others who were living similar fates, he screamed, “You see, Thomas. Now you see!”
Every head in the waiting room twisted to him, his angry words piercing the silence. Annalisa felt her body constrict as Thomas looked up with defensive eyes.
Mr. Barnes marched toward them, stopping three feet in front of his son. Pointing at Thomas much like Emma had pointed at Annalisa, he said, “You proud of yourself? Do you finally understand the consequences of your stupid decisions? They’re like pushing the first of a long line of dominoes, aren’t they?”
Breathing with such fury that he might have a heart attack, he pointed with that same finger back toward the swinging doors. “This is both of your faults.”
Annalisa couldn’t disagree. Thomas slouched lower.
Mr. Barnes stepped toward them. “All that I care about is that you and your sister succeed. You had everything: Weston, an open door to the firm, but you blow it all for this girl that’s no good for this family. Look at me, son.”
Annalisa was too terrified to stand up for Thomas as he looked at his father with tightened jaws. She felt herself cowering like she’d done a thousand times when her own father had unleashed his fury.
“All you had to do was listen to me,” he continued. “I might be a hard-ass, but I’ve been around the block.” He thrust up a finger and spat, “I know what I’m talking about.”
Annalisa was shaking with fear when she noticed a nurse rushing toward them.
“Excuse me,” the short-haired woman said. “I can’t have this in here.”
Mr. Barnes took a long breath, finally running out of steam. Or so Annalisa thought. He kept going. “You’re damn lucky your sister is okay.”
Thomas had finally had enough. “How in the fucking world is this our fault, you clueless sack of shit? You are the waste of oxygen that has poisoned this family. How in God’s name could Emma grow up normal with a father like you?”
“Gentlemen,” the nurse interrupted, “I am going to call security if you don’t tone it down and leave my waiting room.”
Mr. Barnes’s face turned so red Annalisa thought the vessels in his forehead might explode. She put her shaky arm on Thomas, trying to be strong. “Let’s go, Thomas.”
“No, Anna, it needs to be done.” Thomas popped up and got in his father’s face, inches from it. His spit sprayed onto his father as he said, “You are the reason my sister tried to kill herself. You and your fucking affair poisoned her.”
“I’m calling security,” the nurse said loudly, racing back to her desk.
With the last of her energy, her head a spinning blender of fear and anger, Annalisa sprang to her feet. “Thomas, stop it. Let’s go.” All she wanted to do was run away from all of it, but she had to protect him.
Mr. Barnes whipped his head toward Annalisa, his red and angry eyes burning into her. “You stay the hell out of it, country girl. Had you not showed up, none of this would have happened.” His attack was a punch in the face.
As she saw her father in those eyes, she lifted up her hands to protect herself. Just as she did, Thomas took a swing at Mr. Barnes. She saw Thomas’s fist meet his father’s cheek with a crack that sent the man stumbling backward and dropping to the floor.
Thomas lunged for him, and Annalisa watched in frozen shock as the man she loved jumped on top of his father. Mr. Barnes fought back like a bull until two security guards dragged them off each other.
Trembling, Annalisa watched the guards escort the two men, still shouting at each other, out of the waiting room. When they rounded the corner to the exit, Thomas looked back at her with swollen, defeated eyes.
They stared at each other for a long few seconds—and it felt like a daylong conversation was had between them—not a word uttered, just a stare so dense with emotion that Annalisa lost what was left of her breath.
When the guard finally tugged Thomas out of view, she very much felt like she was the reason his life was caving in.