Melinda Curtis - Dandelion Wishes

Glaciers were warmer than Will’s expression.

“So if I was smiling, if I looked happy, I’ll admit, there may have been a moment when the music swelled and I felt hope. Hope that I’d finally see for myself that Tracy is okay.” She searched the area again for any sign of her friend, but she was gone. “I’d switch places with Tracy and take on all her suffering if I could. It would mean the world to me if she forgave me, but she doesn’t have to. Whatever she thinks, whatever she feels, I’ll honor that, but she has to tell me herself. Please,” she added, feeling suddenly weary.

Will’s gaze cast about as if searching for his arguments. Finally, he said, “Tracy was crushed when she saw you.”

“She was here?” Emma clung to hope.

“You upset her. She went home.” Will looked along the river toward his family’s property. “She’s hit a plateau in her recovery. She needs rest before her next round of therapy. Once her communication improves, she’ll be better equipped to handle the stress of the everyday world.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “And people like you.”

“Me?” Emma stepped back.

The edge returned to his voice. “People like you don’t look before they leap, you don’t think about the burn you’ll get twirling near the fire. You and your grandmother get a whiff of excitement and off you go, without considering the consequences.” His gaze returned to the river. “But people like Tracy, like my father and me, we have to be careful of every step we make.”

Will was referring to something other than the car accident. He’d been fifteen and Tracy eleven when their mother died at work. Mrs. Jackson had been a frequent Sunday visitor at Emma’s house, taking part in Rose’s theatricals along with Emma, Tracy and, occasionally, Will. Emma had loved Mrs. Jackson’s infectious laugh, her boundless energy, her joie de vivre. She and Granny Rose were like sisters and Emma had wanted to be just like them. And she had, up until the accident.

After his mother’s death, Will had seldom left his computer except to haul Tracy back home for supper or away from whatever mischief the two girls had gotten into. He’d never come over for Sunday theatricals unless forced. He’d started treating Emma as if she had a contagious disease.

She hadn’t realized. She hadn’t known.

This was why Will had shunned her all those years, treating each trip or excursion she and Tracy took as if it was hazardous. This was why Will had kept her away from Tracy, because he thought she’d hurt Tracy worse than she had in the accident. He planned to cocoon his sister the same way he’d cocooned himself, burying himself in work instead of living life to the fullest.

Emma wanted to tell him, I don’t leap without looking. But he wouldn’t believe her. He’d spent nearly fifteen years forming an impression of her as someone he and his sister should avoid. Emma wanted to tell him, You can’t cover yourself in bubble wrap the rest of your life. Instead she said, “You can’t hover over Tracy the rest of her life.”

“Why not?” He held himself very still, as if he wanted to be swayed by her logic.

“Because she deserves the right to choose her own road, be it safe or risky.”

Will shook his head. “She tried your way, Emma. It’s better if she stays on my road from now on.”

“Don’t do this.” Emma touched his shoulder as he turned to go. “You’ll lose her.”

Will turned back, his gaze anguished. “Can you guarantee I won’t lose her if I let her go her own way?”

Emma couldn’t. No one could.

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