Chapter 3 - THE FLIGHT WEST
Emma landed in Portland with swollen ankles, a stiff neck, and no plan beyond driving south.
She turned on her phone in the rental car.
Thirty-one missed calls.
Most were from Nathan.
Five from Eleanor.
Two from Rachel.
One message sat at the top of the screen.
I found the medical bill.
Emma stopped breathing.
She read the rest.
I know about the baby.
I won't chase you.
Something inside her cracked open.
Not forgiveness.
Relief.
She had been braced for a demand.
Where are you?
You can't keep my child from me.
Call me now.
Instead, Nathan had written Please tell someone you trust that you are safe.
Emma hated how much that mattered.
She called Rachel.
Her friend answered from Denmark on the first ring.
"Oh my God."
"Hi."
"Do not say hi like you forgot to return a library book. Eleanor called me. Are you okay?"
"No."
"Good."
Emma frowned.
"Good?"
"If you'd said you were fine, I was going to fly home and slap you."
Emma laughed.
It came out as a sob.
Rachel's voice softened.
"The apartment is empty. Aunt June has the keys. She knows you're coming but not why."
"Thank you."
"Does Nathan know where you are?"
"No."
"Do you want him to?"
Emma looked through the windshield at rain moving across the parking garage.
"Not yet."
"Then he doesn't."
The drive to Newport took longer than the map promised.
Emma pulled over twice because nausea hit without warning.
At a gas station outside Salem, she stood beneath fluorescent lights eating crackers from a vending machine while the woman behind the counter argued with someone about lottery tickets.
No one recognized her.
No one knew Nathan Whitmore.
No one cared that Emma's marriage had probably become gossip before her plane landed.
She felt anonymous.
It was intoxicating.
The apartment above Harbor Light Books had slanted floors and windows facing gray water.
June Mercer met her on the stairs.
She was sixty-two, compact, silver-haired, and wearing a sweater with a hole near the elbow.
"Rachel says you're staying."
"For a while."
"Good."
June handed her a key.
"Tea or coffee?"
Emma blinked.
"What?"
"You look like somebody asked you every question in the world except the useful one. Tea or coffee?"
Emma smiled despite herself.
"Tea."
"Excellent. Coffee here tastes like punishment."
The apartment was small enough that Emma could stand in the kitchen and see both bedrooms.
The furniture did not match.
The couch had a faded blanket over one arm.
A chipped blue mug waited beside the sink.
Emma set down her suitcase.
She had left behind a penthouse with a wine refrigerator worth more than this entire kitchen.
She had never felt safer indoors.
That afternoon, Emma called her obstetrician in New York.
The nurse transferred her records to a clinic in Newport.
"Emergency contact?" the new patient coordinator asked.
Emma automatically opened her mouth to say Nathan.
Nothing came out.
"Ms. Whitmore?"
"Eleanor Whitmore."
She gave the number.
Her hand shook after the call ended.
She was not punishing Nathan.
She simply did not want a medical emergency to become the first time he learned where she lived.
That night, Emma opened a cheap yellow notebook she bought at a pharmacy.
At the top of the first page she wrote:
THINGS I AM ALLOWED TO WANT.
Sleep.
Quiet.
A doctor who knows my name.
To finish a sentence without someone checking a phone.
To be angry without immediately becoming reasonable.
To love Nathan and still leave him.
She stared at the last line.
Then added another.
To want a life that might not include him.
Her phone buzzed.
Eleanor.
Emma answered.
"I'm safe."
"That's all I needed first."
Emma sat on the floor beside the couch.
"He knows."
"Nathan?"
"He found a bill."
Eleanor exhaled.
"Emma, I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"Olivia asked Nathan if you were pregnant before anyone outside the family should have known."
Emma's hand tightened around the phone.
"How?"
"Nathan doesn't know."
Emma looked toward the dark windows.
Then remembered the gala.
Olivia watching her near the bar.
Olivia offering champagne twice.
Olivia saying, "You look tired lately."
Emma had thought it was cruelty.
Maybe it had been observation.
Maybe it had been more.
"Eleanor."
"Yes?"
"Tell Nathan not to contact Olivia alone until he knows how she knew."
A pause.
"Do you want me to tell him that came from you?"
Emma looked at the yellow notebook.
"No."
She closed it.
"I'm done managing his problems from three thousand miles away."
---
The chapters are on the left side of your screen.
Thank you so much for reading this far.
If you enjoyed the story, bookmark my site: https://metro.treeiq.biz
May you like
New stories are posted every day, so check back often for the latest updates.
