His voice cracked at the end. There was a long pause while Emily wondered if he was going to continue. Her throat tightened painfully. “Are you okay, Luke?”
He cleared his throat. “I think so. I need to ask you a favor.”
Anything. She almost said it, hating herself for being so easy even if it was only on the inside. Her fingers gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles cramped. “What is it?”
“Can you come?”
Her knees wobbled and she sat down on the back steps, the cool cement pricking into her bare legs. “You want me to come for the funeral?”
“Yes. And to talk.”
Her breath caught in her chest. She hadn’t thought she’d ever hear his voice again, let alone see him. But she couldn’t get her hopes up. “Talk about what?”
“There were things I should have said but didn’t.”
“You seemed to say enough.” He had been the one to turn her away, and now he expected her to come when he crooked his finger? She knew it was a difficult time for him and she wanted to help, but she refused to put herself in the position of being hurt again.
“I know, and I need to explain.”
“I don’t know…” She wanted to be there for him, but the wounds were still too fresh. She was still too close to be objective.
“The service is the day after tomorrow. If you can’t get away, I’ll come to you afterwards. Give me your address.”
Come here? Impossible. As kind as her parents had been, Emily had glossed over her pain at leaving Alberta. She’d let them believe she was so down because of her divorce—they had no idea she’d been foolish enough to have her heart broken all over again. Luke showing up here would create all sorts of problems. Especially considering what Sam had just said.
“No, I’ll come,” she decided. If it was that crucial, she’d take a day and go.
“Thank you, Emily. It means a lot.”
What was she doing? Setting herself up for another round of hurt? Getting over him was taking too long. Maybe they would be better this way. Despite what had happened, it felt as if they’d left loose ends. Maybe they needed to tie those off. Cauterize the wound so she could finally heal.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” she said quietly, pressing the phone to her ear, not wanting the conversation to end so soon. Lord, she had missed him. The line went quiet again and she thought she heard him take a shaking breath. Her heart quaked. She had so many things she wanted to say, and her one regret over all these weeks was that she’d never told him exactly how she felt. Would it have made a difference if he’d known she was in love with him?
“We’ll talk about it when you get here,” he replied.
After the phone went dead, Emily sat on the steps a long time. She was going back. The memory of his face swam through her mind, scowling, smiling, and that intense, heart-stopping gaze he gave her just before he kissed her. She would see him the day after tomorrow.
If nothing else, she would tell him how she felt. How his dismissal of her had cut her to the bone. And then she would let him go once and for all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMILY TURNED UP THE drive at half past twelve. The midday sun scorched down and Emily noticed the petunias in the baskets were drooping, in need of a good deadheading and watering. Luke’s truck sat in the drive, and the field equipment was lined up in a mournful row next to the barn. The farm work had ceased for today, a sad and respectful silence for the man who had started it all and passed it on to his son.
His son. Luke stepped through the screen door and on to the porch as she parked. He rested one hand on the railing post while Emily tried to calm both the excitement of seeing him again and the sadness of knowing the reason why he’d traded in his jeans and T-shirts for a suit. Black trousers fitted his long legs and the white shirt emphasized the leanness of his hips and the breadth of his shoulders. The gray tie was off-center and her lips curved up the tiniest bit. Luke was the kind of man who would hate being bundled up in a tie.
She stepped out of the car. Her shoes made little grinding noises on the gravel as she walked to the house. Luke waited as she put her shaking hand on the railing and climbed the steps to the porch.
God, how she’d missed him. She faced him, drinking in every detail of his features. Regular Luke was irresistible. But this dressed-up Luke felt different and exciting. He’d had a haircut recently—a razor-thin white line marked the path of his new hairline. His mouth, the crisply etched lips that remained unsmiling, and his eyes. She stopped at his eyes. She had expected pain and sadness. But what she saw there gave her heart a still-familiar kick. Heat. And desire.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly. He reached out and took a few strands of her hair in his fingers. “You let your hair grow.”
She reached up and touched the dark strands without thinking. When she realized what she was doing she dropped her hand to her side again. “I felt like a change.” She meant to speak clearly but it came out as a ragged whisper. If she reacted like this now, how would they make it through a w
hole afternoon?
“Emily…”
She waited. As the seconds passed, she wondered how long before they would have to leave for the church. He’d said he wanted to talk to her, but they wouldn’t have much time. Surely he had to be there early. To be with his sisters. To say goodbye. With every second that slid past she felt Luke sliding away as well.