Marion Ekholm - Just Like Em

What would Karen’s reaction be if he told her how his opinion of Em had changed? Instead of that teenaged brat, he saw an attractive woman with a delightful sense of humor. He mused a moment longer, remembering the pleasant afternoon they’d spent. He returned his attention to Karen’s picture, and a sensation of guilt hit him unexpectedly. Ever since he’d met his wife, no other woman had captured his interest.

He and Karen had talked about how his life had to go on after her death. She had insisted he find someone to take her place and give their children the mothering they needed. Roger focused on Karen’s smiling face. But no other woman could fill my life the way you did. A man couldn’t expect to experience heaven more than once in a lifetime.

Roger chewed over his predicament. Okay, so Em was the first woman he’d even noticed since...since he’d met Karen. But he doubted Em could ever have any interest in him. For that matter, she acted nervous and preoccupied around him. Why? And he couldn’t forget how much she’d hated him during that summer spent with his family. What had he done to create such animosity? One prank after another. If he had acted on his feelings at that time and strangled her, he’d probably still be in jail.

Roger stood and stretched. He had to find a way to retrieve that file so he could present it the next day. From the way Em handled her computer, he felt sure she would know what to do. She had offered to help. He scratched his head and tried to think how he could broach the subject. If she was willing to come here, he’d treat the whole thing as a business deal. Before he could change his mind, Roger reached for the yellow pad where he had scratched Em’s number and dialed.

“You know anything about retrieving lost data on a computer?” he asked the moment she answered. “I had about four hours of work go into never-never land, and I’m having an impossible time trying to find it.”

“Is this Roger?” a hesitant voice asked.

He grabbed a hank of hair and pulled. “Yeah. Sorry, Em, I...”

“This is Doris. I’ll see if she’s still up.”

Roger glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock! Why hadn’t he checked the time before calling? He was about to hang up, when Em said, “Hi, Roger. Mom said your computer crashed.”

“No. It’s just a lost file. Listen, I’m sorry I called. It’s late and you have to go to work tomorrow.”

“We both do. I may be able to help. What’s your address?”

* * *

EM BUSIED HERSELF in front of the bathroom mirror, removing the night cream she’d applied. She stifled a yawn. If it was nothing more than a lost file, she’d be back and in bed in no time. She fiddled with removing several curlers she’d put in before going to bed. The curls she’d planned for the next day would have to wait.

“Aren’t you primping a lot just to fix a computer?”

Em took a quick look at her mother leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. “I don’t want to look as though I just got out of bed, Mom. Give me a break.”

“You planning to go au natural?”

Em glanced down at the sleeveless T-shirt she used for sleeping. “I plan to change.” Her mother hadn’t shown this much interest in her attire since she was a teenager. Em glanced back at her mother, an edge to her reply. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Doris chuckled as she turned away. “He still walks on water.”

Em stopped and stared at her image. Was she giving Roger’s sudden need for her help too much importance? After all, more than ten days had gone by without a call. He had sent a card: a short, formal thank-you to tell her how much the boys had appreciated the swim party, the meal, and how much he’d appreciated her help. But nothing personal such as “I’d like to see more of you.”

Something unknown, maybe common sense or karma, had kept her from taking that job with Roger. Close contact with him might have ended with her making a fool of herself. Too many of her friends had become involved in office romances and lived to regret it. Before she could reconsider and take the job Roger offered, she approached her boss and told him she’d like to accept the full-time position the company offered her. It was a done deal before the end of the week, with increased pay and eventual medical benefits for Sammy.

Right now, thanks to their sons, she had a fragile friendship with Roger. She wasn’t about to ruin it and make a fool of herself. She’d provide the help he needed and get home as quickly as possible.

Em brushed her hair roughly, enough to make it sting with static electricity. She found the sports bra she had discarded earlier, pulled on a clean T-shirt and slipped into shorts. With a quick look in the mirror, she decided even her mother would approve.

* * *

THE WHITE STUCCO walls glared under the porch light as Roger paced outside his front door. Nervousness churned in his stomach. What if she couldn’t recover his file? He told himself all this anxiety had to do with that possibility. He’d offer to pay her and usher her out.

How much should he offer? Immaterial. Whatever she charged would be worth it. He’d pay for it himself if he couldn’t get reimbursed from petty cash. She was here to help him out of a jam. He hesitated. What if she felt offering her money was insulting?

Karen, Karen, what should I do? His silent query went unanswered.

The moment Em’s car pulled into the driveway, Roger ran off the porch and opened her door. “I want to get this clear from the start, Em. I’m hiring you in a consultant capacity. Name your price.”

“Fine,” she said, stepping from the car.

Fine? No argument, no negotiations? Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“Headache?”

He opened his eyes. Em stood inches away. He took a deep breath and drew in her scent. Wrong move. “No,” he said, barely able to get the word out. “Can I take that for you?” As he reached for her bag, he brushed her hand and nearly dropped the computer.

“Whoa, let me take that.” Em pulled it away from him. About to put his hand on Em’s back to direct her, he turned toward his house. The moment he saw Samantha standing at the door, looking every bit like her mother, he dropped his hand to his side.

“Oh, I need your help desperately, Em,” Samantha said. She clasped her hands prayer fashion under her chin. “Dad won’t take me shopping, and I don’t have anything but rags to wear to school.”

“Samantha, stop being so dramatic and get to bed.” Why was she still up? He pushed past her into the house. “I told you I’ll take you next weekend.”

The girl uttered a strangled cry, shook her hands in the air and looked heavenward for help. How was he to deal with such antics? Couldn’t she cut him some slack? He faced a few more important crises than her lack of wardrobe.

Em turned to him and said, “Why don’t I go upstairs with Samantha while you get me a drink? Iced tea if you have any.” She followed his daughter before he could offer a protest.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Em asked when they reached the bedroom on the second floor. The room, decorated in frills and lace, seemed too immature for someone who had given up smoking at thirteen.

“Look at these.” Samantha picked up an armload of clothes that had been strewn across her bed and tossed them in the air. “They’re all out of style. I’ve grown two inches in the last year, and Dad hasn’t even noticed.”

Samantha lowered her voice and glanced toward the open door. “Besides,” she said, pulling the bulky men’s shirt out at the bust line, “My boobs are getting bigger and nothing looks right.”

“Um, well...” Em cleared her throat, and glanced around the room in an attempt to gather her thoughts. This was way beyond what she’d expected. This weekend. What plans had she made this weekend? She turned back to the girl. “I can take you shopping Saturday, but you have to clear it with your father, first.”