Always Emily. Mary Sullivan

      Salem shook his head like a bewildered old man, so far out of his element. “Mika says it’s boys. She’s at that age, right?”

      Emily tilted her head, thinking. “Aiyana’s what? Fourteen?”

      “Fifteen. Almost sixteen.”

      “Yeah.” Emily’s mouth twisted wryly. “It’s probably a boy.”

      “So, you’ll talk to her?”

      A wash of emotion that might have been sadness painted Emily’s features.

      “Okay.” She seemed to rouse herself. “Where is she? In her bedroom?”

      Salem nodded and went back downstairs, hoping he could deal with the repercussions of Emily leaving—again—later. Maybe. He hoped.

      * * *

      EMILY LEANED HER forehead against Aiyana’s door to summon her strength before entering. She had to help the girl however she could, even though her resources were depleted. She just didn’t know what she had to give. Damn this illness.

      Aiyana, the girl who used to follow Emily around like a perky kitten, needed her. While Emily had completed high school, she’d spent time with Aiyana on the weekends, bringing her gifts—stuffed bunny rabbits, books and toys.

      The child might have been born to another woman, and Emily might have resented Annie for marrying Salem, but Aiyana had been Salem’s daughter, and a darling. And Emily had loved her from the first moment she met her.

      Funny that Annie hadn’t minded, but then, Annie had been a proud mother, and happy to show off her baby. She had even let Emily babysit.

      When Emily had gone to college, she had sent Aiyana birthday cards and sweet little notes at Christmas, and more presents.

      As an archeologist, she had mailed Aiyana postcards from all the exotic countries she had visited. So, Emily had enjoyed a correspondence both ways, with Maria in the Sudan when she was at home, and with Aiyana when she’d been away.

      And now Aiyana was hurting.

      Aware of how hypocritical it was to offer boy advice when her own love life was a mess, she knocked anyway, because Salem had asked her to. How could she say no?

      “Go away, Dad.” The voice sounded sullen, as only a teenager could, but Emily heard more. Desolation.

      “It’s Emily.”

      “Emily?” Emily heard a nose being blown. “Oh, um, just a sec.”

      Emily waited.

      “Okay. Come in.” It sounded thick with tears.

      Emily opened the door cautiously. Aiyana sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around an oversize teddy bear, looking so much like a female version of a teenaged Salem that it brought back memories, both warm and tough. Aiyana was too old for stuffed animals, but Emily remembered the misery of unrequited love. Salem came to mind. She approached the bed.

      “Hi,” she said and smiled.

      Aiyana didn’t respond. Strange.

      “Your dad says something’s going on. Do you want to talk?”

      Aiyana shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her nose was stuffed up, and her eyes bloodshot. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

      Emily was taken aback by Aiyana’s vaguely belligerent tone. It used to be that the girl would run into Emily’s arms when she returned for her visits. But the past couple of years, Aiyana been a bit cool, and now this. Was it normal adolescence, or something deeper?

      “I slept over last night.”

      “Did you sleep with Dad?”

      Whoa. Did Aiyana mean sleep sleep or have sex sleep? Emily was pretty sure she meant sex. Where had this come from?

      Before Emily could react, Aiyana asked, “So, like, did you guys kiss and make up?”

      Ohhhh. Was this about Emily and Salem fighting before she left last year? Aiyana must have picked up on the change in Salem’s attitude toward her.

      Why did adults never think that kids understood what was happening around them?

      “I slept here because I was sick last night. I fainted at the Cathedral and your dad brought me home and took care of me.”

      “How long are you staying this time?”

      Emily finally got what was going on. The daughter had the same issues as the father.

      “I’m staying for good this time.”

      Skeptical, Aiyana shrugged.

      “You look really pale,” Aiyana said, begrudgingly, as though she cared, but didn’t want to. “Are you okay?” A glimmer of compassion softened the blunt edges of Aiyana’s teenaged pique. Maybe they would get through this after all.

      “It’s the tail end of an attack of malaria.”

      “Isn’t that really bad?”

      “I’ll be okay in a few days.”

      Emily tucked her hands into her pockets. She felt as lost as Aiyana looked miserable, and just as uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say or do.

      This kind of thing had been easier when Aiyana’s problems had been as simple as scraped knees and broken toys.

      On the wall on the other side of the bed, Emily spotted a corkboard filled with all the postcards Emily had sent over the years. Oh. Aiyana had kept them, every last one.

      Aiyana might as well have reached into Emily’s chest and petted her heart as she was doing with the teddy bear’s head. Emily had to find a way to help her. She wanted to regain what they used to have.

      “You know, when your dad and I fought last year, it had nothing to do with you. I love you as much now as I ever have.”

      At the word love, Aiyana’s expression softened even more.

      Emily took advantage. “Maybe I can help you through this.” It sounded like a question instead of an offer of help because, honestly, she had no idea what to do. She knew how to be a good listener. Maybe that’s all it would take. “Do you want to talk about it?”

      “I don’t know,” Aiyana wailed. Oh, she must be hurting badly if she would consider confiding in Emily even though she was still so angry with her. “It’s embarrassing.”

      “Did something happen to you?”

      Aiyana buried her face in the bear’s head. “Sort of.”

      Sort of? Oh, dear. “Can you explain what you mean?” Emily sat on the edge of the bed, but made sure she didn’t touch Aiyana. She didn’t want to invade the girl’s space if things weren’t fully right between them.

      Aiyana covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can. You wouldn’t understand.”

      “You’d be surprised.”

      Aiyana’s head jerked up at the depth of emotion in Emily’s voice.

      Maybe in this situation, Emily would have to give before she would receive. “I broke up with my boyfriend three days ago when I left the Sudan to come home.”

      “Oh, that’s so sad.”

      “It was long overdue. We’d been together for six years, but he didn’t treat me well. I tolerated his behavior way longer than I should have. It was time for me to smarten up.”

      Something about the phrase smarten up must have resonated with Aiyana, because she opened her mouth to speak, and the dam broke.

      Through tears, haltingly, she told her story, about how she’d thought the boy had cared for her, about how she was honored and happy he’d asked her to be his girlfriend, about