Free The Dream by Jaycee Clark Page B

mother wasn’t here.
    Clearing her throat, she asked the next question. “Is-is-is my sister here? Anne? Sarah Anne? Did she make it here?” Her voice caught on the end.
    They had to be here. They had to.
    Her hands shook and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She closed them to will away the useless emotion. Swallowing, she opened her eyes and stared at the faces of her shocked grandparents.
    “My dear, sit down,” Edward Warring said. Emily didn’t realize he was talking to her and jumped when he laid a hand on her arm. “Please,” he asked.
    She nodded and sat in a chair across from her grandparents. No one said a word and the clock ticked teasingly.
    “What did you say your name was again?” her grandmother asked.
    “ Emmaline Merryweather Smith.”
    “ Merryweather ,” her grandfather said, his jaw clenched. His shrewd dark eyes raked over her face, down her as if trying to see the truth or lies or something.
    “Yes, Merryweather . Neil Merryweather .”
    “I know the—“
    “Edward.” Victoria laid a hand on her husband’s knee.
    Emily smiled. “’ Tis all right. I feel the same way, believe me.”
    Victoria shook her head. “You must excuse us. This is quite a shock.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be. I thought… I’d hoped… You see…” How on earth did she explain? Where did she even begin?
    Suddenly, Victoria stood, walking to Emily. She too stood, not knowing what to expect. Her grandmother engulfed her in a tight, fierce hug. “My dear, dear grandchild.” Victoria pulled back and gazed directly into Emily’s eyes. “You look so much like her. So much.” Her hands cupped Emily’s face. “Look, Edward, she even has Elizabeth’s widow’s peak, like my own. And that mole just there by her hairline, is the same as Elizabeth’s. So much like her.”
    And it had been the very bane of her existence. “Yes, I know.”
    Her grandmother smiled. “Oh, welcome. Welcome.”
    She looked over to her grandfather, who’d stood as well, though he clearly reserved his judgment. Emily stepped away from her grandmother and said, “I know you wonder at me, wonder if I must be telling the truth. I want nothing from you. I have money and will find a place to stay. I’d thought Mama would be here, you see. I thought he had to have lied, he had…” She stopped and looked away, the idea that Neil might have actually told the truth sinking into her for the first time. Her shoulder pulled and the headache built. Neil had said her mother was dead. Had he killed her? No. No, otherwise that meant he lied to Anne. Could he have lied? Oh, God, what if her mother were truly dead?
    Emily swayed.
    Edward cleared his throat. “No, you look too much like her not to be her daughter. But I can’t help but wonder why you thought she was here. We haven’t seen her in over twenty-one years.”
    Emily nodded and sat, picking up her valise. She took out the bundle of letters from the top and untied them. She gave her grandfather those that were his or his wife’s. After he accepted them, she handed him the next aged bundle. Paper, slightly yellowed by age, the edges creased from her carrying the letters around, rested within the confines of the black frayed ribbon holding them together.
    “These are for her siblings.”
    “Why did you think Elizabeth was here?” Victoria asked, resuming her seat.
    “Because he couldn’t have won. He just couldn’t have. All this time. All these years.”
    Her grandfather took a deep breath, adjusted his vest and said. “I don’t like liars and I abhor thieves, if I find you’re either…”
    “Edward!”
    “No, he’s right. He should protect his family.” Anger burned through her. And without thought she asked him. “Why? Why did you never visit? Did you not care?” Her mother’s bruised and beaten face flashed through her mind. “Did you not worry about her or her children with the kind of man he was?”
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    Deep