Free The Enchanter Heir by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

work for Mr. DeVries. But Gwen kept bringing it up and bringing it up. And then, one day, she disappeared, and took you with her.”
    He grimaced. “I guessed where you were, but to tell the truth, I didn’t come looking for a long while, because I was pissed, you know?”
    “We called it the farm,” Emma said. Memories surfaced, of steamy air and a sea of purple flowers. Of horses and pigs and parrots. Scratching in the dirt with a hoe. Running barefoot through tall grass. Singing together in a large auditorium. Her mother guiding her hand with a paintbrush. Reading to her in a chair big enough for two. Emma could picture flowers on the table, framed prints on the wall, window boxes spilling flowers. Mama always wore a sun hat when she worked outside, because her skin was so fair. While her mother worked, Emma ran wild with a pack of children from dawn till dusk and never put her sunscreen on.
    She looked up and caught Tyler staring at her, a wistful expression on his face. As if he knew what he’d missed out on.
    “What finally happened?” Emma asked.
    Tyler kept staring down at the table. He sure wasn’t one to look a person in the eye. “I finally went to Brazil, hoping to talk your mama into coming back. Gwen refused to come back with me, but let you come back to the States with me until Christmas. Not long after that, she, and nearly everyone else at Thorn Hill, died.” It was like he’d fast-forwarded through a scene.
    “What do you mean?”
    Tyler’s eyes flicked up to her face, then back to the table. “The wells at the commune went bad. It may have been toxic leakage from the mines, pesticides—something like that, though there were lots of conspiracy theories. Thousands of people died—all of the adults, in fact, and a lot of the kids. That put an end to the commune. Now I was on my own to raise you, but it was the same old, same old. I was always on the road. Couldn’t make a living otherwise. As a musician, anyway. So I asked Sonny Lee to help.”
    “Seems like Sonny Lee did more than help,” Emma observed.
    “When I called him, he was pissed at me for getting myself into this kind of a jam. So he said he’d keep you, but only if I stayed out of the picture. He was worried that being connected to me would be dangerous for you.”
    Emma recalled Sonny Lee’s words: You need to get out of Memphis, because they’ll come after you, too.
    “Why would it be dangerous?”
    “Like I said. You don’t just resign when you work for Andrew DeVries. He didn’t like loose ends.”
    “But—if Mama was already dead . . . ?” Emma cocked her head.
    “Just trust me on that, okay?”
    “Why should I trust you on anything?” Emma snapped. “And don’t try playing the daddy card, because you lost that hand a long time ago.” Tyler whistled. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
    “I just don’t like being lied to,” Emma said. “I never have.”
    “Nobody does,” Tyler said, looking down at his hands. “But you’d better get used to it.”
    Emma stretched, trying to ease the clenched muscle over her shoulder blade. “How did you end up here?”
    “I came here five years ago, figuring I was getting too old for the road. I bought a house, found some regular gigs here in town, where the cost of living is low.” He rose and carried their empty plate and cups to the trash, then returned to the table.
    “Why here? Why not Memphis?”
    “Too many people know me in Memphis,” Tyler said. “This is a great music town, too, and nobody would look for me here.” He snorted. “Who knew this was going to turn into the center of the Weir universe.”
    “What?”
    “Never mind.” He paused. “I thought of trying to get in touch with you after I settled here. But a deal’s a deal, and it seemed like you were doing fine in Memphis. You’re almost grown, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”
    “It got messed up anyway,” Emma said. They both sat and stared down at the table. When Emma