Free Emerald Windows by Terri Blackstock

lights. From her window she could see the neon sign of the After Hours Bar flashing its tacky glory. Tonight the parking lot was full of cars. “I don’t see how I could help,” she said, turning back to her parents. “She barely tolerates me.”
    “It isn’t just you,” her mother said. “She’s quiet like that with everybody. She just needs to get to know you again. It would do her good.”
    Brooke tried to see them without reproach, without the pain that fogged her vision. Too much time had passed to really go home and pick up where she’d left off. But as Nick had reminded her tonight, it was never too late for a second chance. And if Roxy really needed her…
    “All right,” she whispered wearily. “I’ll come home.”
    Her parents offered faint smiles, but there wasn’t a great deal of victory in their expressions. Too much had been lost between them. “I’ll have supper waiting,” her mother said, and kissed her on the cheek. “I know you haven’t eaten.”
    Brooke nodded. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” she said. “I just have to get my things together and check out.”
    “Okay,” her mother said awkwardly. She attempted a smile, and took a deep, uneven breath. “We’ll see you at home, then.”
    “Yeah.”
    Brooke watched her parents walk toward the door, stiff with the emotion they both held trapped inside. “Mom? Dad?” she said just before they stepped outside.
    They turned back to her, and she saw the naked love in both their faces. Suddenly she forgave them for all the mistrust, and all the pain. “I’ll make you proud of me one of these days. I promise I will.”
    Her parents only smiled sadly and left her alone.

CHAPTER    
    S HADOWS SLID LIKE DANCING VISIONS along the moonlit wall of Nick’s bedroom. It was almost midnight, but he felt about as sleepy as a hungry leopard. Wearily, he slung his feet to the ivory carpet and rubbed his eyes, then let his fingers slide down his face. His gaze drifted out the window, where a weeping willow blew and danced in the breeze with the same cadence as the shadows.
    He got up and walked in darkness through the living room into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, letting its light spill out to illuminate the room. He propped his elbow on the door and peered inside, at the leftover pasta and a lone apple.
    He stared vacantly at the food and thought of the sound of despair in Brooke’s voice tonight. He wondered if she was, indeed, all right. Of course she wasn’t, he decided, shutting the refrigerator and letting the darkness swallow him again. Because of him, there was a rift again between Brooke and her parents. He must have been crazy asking her to come back here.
    He went to the telephone on the kitchen wall, braced his elbows on the counter, and closed his hand around the cool receiver. If he called her just to see how she was and woke her, would it be such a crime?
    There were worse things he could do—like getting dressed and showing up at her door. He looked up the number for the Bluejay Inn and dialed it.
    It rang four times before the desk clerk answered.
    “Would you please connect me to Brooke Martin’s room?” he asked.
    “Miss Martin checked out over two hours ago,” the man said.
    “She did? Why? Didn’t she just check in?”
    “All I know is what’s on my books,” the man said impatiently.
    “Yes, thank you.” Nick hung up the phone, running a hand through his hair. His heartbeat accelerated to a threatening speed as thoughts spun wildly in his mind, all leading to the same conclusion.
She’s gone,
he thought.
She’s left again.
    Before he’d consciously decided to do so, Nick snatched up the phone again and dialed information to get her number in Columbia.
    “Hello.” She answered on the first ring, and he caught his breath, though his heart fell miles to his feet. “Brooke, why did you—”
    “This is Brooke Martin,” her voice continued. “I’m not home right now, but if