Escaping Her Troubled Past – Extended Epilogue

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Emma clutched baby Isaac tightly as she peered at the train. It had arrived ten minutes ago. Why weren’t the doors opening and discharging the passengers? She had waited months for her father to meet her son, and now, it seemed like the moment would never come. It had been so long since she had seen her father that she felt a little nervous herself. Would he have changed? Would he treat her differently?

Isaac turned his head around like he wanted to see the action, his head bobbing back and forth as he tried to get the best view.

“Just wait a minute,” Emma told him. “Nothing is happening yet.”

Isaac was sitting up by himself now, and that meant that he always wanted to see what was happening around him, even when Emma had him bundled up against the cold. Isaac started whining, a little cry that would quickly billow into something more demanding if Emma didn’t figure out what he wanted quickly.

“You’ve just eaten,” Emma reminded him. “I know that can’t be it. Huh? You are a big boy. You don’t need to cry about anything. Do you feel too warm in your hat and coat? I promise you that you’ll be cold without it.”

“And I promise you that he doesn’t agree.” Her father’s familiar voice shook her for a moment, and Emma slowly lifted her head, looking to the left as she took in her father. She had expected him to look exactly the same, but he didn’t. A year and a few months had affected him, and for the first time in her life, Emma thought he looked old. His hair had more gray in it than anything else, but his smile was still as genuine as before.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes for no reason she could see, and Emma wrapped one of her arms around her father, holding Isaac in the other one. 

“It’s so good to see you, Emma,” her father said, squeezing her tightly so that Isaac was pressed between them. “You have grown up so much.” Emma didn’t feel like she had changed, though obviously, having a baby had changed her lifestyle. She still felt like the same person.

“It’s good to see you too,” she finally echoed back, not sure why her throat felt scratchy. “How about I take you home? It’s colder today than it normally is in February, and I don’t want Isaac out here too long.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me officially?” her father asked, bending over Isaac. Emma watched as he touched Isaac’s plump cheeks and stared into his bright blue eyes. 

“Isaac, this is your grandfather, Big Jim. And this is your grandson, Isaac.”

“Isaac,” her father repeated. Emma had written to him all about Isaac, of course, but seeing him in person must be different. “Can I hold him?” 

Emma nodded and reluctantly transferred her son into her father’s arms. She stretched her arms out in front of them. He was getting quite heavy already. “You can hold him if you want while I drive us back to the house. Thomas’s parents want to meet you tonight, so they’re going to come over for supper. I hope you’re ready for some company.”

Her father laughed. “I’m always ready for company.” He passed Isaac back to her. “I need to carry my bags. They’re kind of heavy.”

Emma looked away from her father’s familiar yet aged face to look at his bags. He had a smaller bag, then two larger trunks. “You’ve brought a lot for a couple of weeks,” she commented. “Maybe I should have had Thomas come along.”

“Do you think I can’t carry my own things?” her father asked. He slung the smaller back onto his back then picked up each of the trunks with one of his arms, shouldering them with a grunt. Emma looked around to see if anyone was watching her father’s Herculean act. 

“Come on,” she ushered him forward, leading the way to the carriage. Her father settled everything in the back of the carriage as Emma climbed up in the front. 

Isaac whimpered, and Emma frowned at him. She was about to remind him that he had no reason to cry when her father hopped deftly up in the carriage next to her. “I’m not sure why he’s so out of sorts today,” she told her father.

“He’s probably wondering who this handsome visitor is.” Her father beckoned for Isaac, and Emma passed him back. It was a lot easier to guide the horses when she wasn’t holding Isaac with one hand. 

She started the carriage in motion, and Emma glanced at her father every few moments to see how she was reacting to her home in Oregon. “Was your journey out here pleasant?” she asked.

“It was boring. Most of the other passengers didn’t want to talk or play cards. They wanted to sleep.”

Emma smiled as she imagined her father trying to make friends with the other passengers. One worry sat deep in the pit of her stomach, but she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up yet. The reporter hadn’t nagged her any further, and soon after he had left, she had buried his notebook far out under some trees. She wasn’t completely sure that she remembered where it was. Her father had told her that he had seemed upset but had finally left him alone. But Emma wondered if her father had used his time without her in New Orleans to become involved with the Domino Gang again. Now wasn’t the time to ask, however.

“These are two beautiful horses,” her father commented, pointing at the ones leading the carriage. “Are they products of your husband’s breeding?”

“Yes,” Emma smiled proudly. “These are two-year-olds, so he was still training them when I came, but they’re perfectly behaved now.” Joker still wasn’t perfectly behaved, but Emma didn’t think he ever would be.

“That’s where we live.” Emma pointed up the road. She could just make out the shape of their house. Isaac copied her pointing and reached his hand out, trying to grab the air. Her father played with Isaac’s hand until he giggled.

“He’s usually a pretty happy baby,” Emma told her father. “He doesn’t fuss unless something’s wrong, except today.”

“Maybe he was just excited. He was wondering where I’ve been all his life.”

Emma pulled into the drive and led the horses to the edge of the pen. “You can go on inside,” Emma told her father. “I’ll take care of the horses and join you in a minute.” 

Leaving the trunks in the back of the carriage, Emma followed after her father and son a few minutes later. Thomas could help her carry everything in later. 

When Emma entered the house, she saw her father already making himself at home on the floor. He had set Isaac down on the rug and was handing him a book.

“He can’t have that!” Emma cried when she saw what he was doing. She rushed forward and rescued her book before Isaac had a chance to put it in his mouth or rip it. 

“Why not?” her father asked. “I gave you books when you were a baby, and look how smart you are.”

“Because he’ll destroy it.”

“Now, just because he’s little doesn’t mean you can’t trust him,” her father told her. “I’m not going to be one of those annoying parents who tell you how to do everything, so I’ll just give you this one piece of advice, then leave it be. But babies are smart, and you should give them the tools to grow instead of talking to them with silly baby talk. Isaac can have a real conversation.” He turned to Isaac. “Isaac, did your mother wrap you up too tightly out there?”

Isaac’s lower lip trembled like he was about to cry, so her father pulled his hat off in one swift motion. It must have surprised Isaac because he looked up to see what had happened and almost toppled over. 

Emma bent down on her knees to catch him. “I talk to him like that sometimes,” she justified. “But, he is still a baby. I’m not going to give him a knife and tell him to cook supper.”

Her father laughed with her at the idea. 

“Speaking of which,” Emma climbed to her feet again even though she already felt exhausted. “I should probably see to that. Thomas’s parents will be here soon.”

“And when will I be able to meet the man himself?” her father asked.

“Soon. He’s checking on a foal. The first one of the season was born last night, and he’s been out there most of the morning making sure that everything’s alright. The horse hasn’t stood yet, which is apparently not good news.”

“And you, Isaac, are five months and can barely sit. What a disappointment!” her father teased Isaac.

Emma opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. It was a beautiful picture seeing her father interact with Isaac, so she would tell him how he could and could not speak to him. Besides, she had been raised mostly by her father, and she hadn’t turned out half bad.

“Father, I did want to ask you something before everyone else gets here.”

She brought over the bread dough and began kneading it in the bowl on her lap.

“I haven’t seen you for a year and a half, and you want to bring up serious topics already.” 

It was as though her father could sense her mood. 

Emma nodded as she focused on the dough. “I don’t want to bring it up when everyone else is here. But your old gang, you’ve really stopped all communication with them?”

Her father reached across the space and tugged at a piece of her loose hair, the way he always did when he teased her. “Even old Ricky and I haven’t been talking. I think the constable finally gave up his idea that I committed some robbery at the bank. The reporter disappeared after he came here. He must have found something else to chase down, maybe something more substantial.”

Emma’s eyes darted toward the back of the house where the woods were. She couldn’t tell anyone about it. No one here would ever understand, but her father? He would.

She leaned forward, her hands pausing the dough. “It probably doesn’t help that he seems to have lost his notebook with all of his important notes in it.”

Her father made eye contact for a moment, then laughed a hearty laugh. “Oh, Emma, I should have known I wouldn’t have to worry about you. Isaac, are you going to take after your mother and make trouble around here?”

“I don’t make trouble!” Emma protested. “Not anymore, at least.” She grinned, knowing that her secret was safe with her father.

After the bread dough was ready to rise, she set it beside the already-prepared food and peered out the back door. She didn’t see Thomas in either of the pens close to the house. He must still be in the barn with the foal.

But then, she heard voices from the front of the house. The front door opened, and Thomas ushered his parents inside. Even though Mary always insisted that Emma not bring anything to their house when she was cooking, Mary could always be counted on to bring some sort of dessert.

Emma hurried forward to take the pie pan from her hands. She could smell the blueberries inside, and her mouth watered, wishing they could start with dessert instead of the meal she had cooked.

“How is little Isaac doing?” Mary gushed, bending over the boy. “Well, we can certainly tell you are getting enough to eat!” She plucked at one of his cheeks. 

“Mary, this is my father, B-” she stopped herself. “Jim,” she corrected. “This is my father, Jim.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Mary greeted him cordially.

Thomas’s father came over, and Emma took care of the rest of the necessary introductions. She watched with a pleased eye as her father greeted everyone, slapping Thomas on the back like an old friend.

“What a nice place Oregon is,” he commented as he settled back on the floor. Mary had scooped up baby Isaac as she always did when they came for a visit, but Emma’s father continued to sit on the floor and wait for his prodigy to return.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Thomas Sr. agreed. “The fresh air can be compared to none other in the country; at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“How was your journey?” Mary asked.

“Boring,” her father answered.

Emma winced, wondering how his personality would be received. Thomas’s father laughed, though, so Emma allowed herself to relax some. “Is everyone ready to go ahead and eat?” she asked.

There was agreement all around, so they sat down for a nice meal, Emma taking Isaac on her lap. She thought it was about time for him to take a nap, but he seemed too interested in everything else going on around him. 

“Isaac,” Emma pleaded with him. “You’re going to get really grumpy if you don’t nap for a little while.” As everyone else ate, she rocked Isaac back and forth at the end of the table until his eyes slowly drifted shut. Then, she ate her meal with one hand, something that wasn’t unusual for her. 

“Emma has told us a little bit about you,” Thomas Sr. said, “but it’s much different getting to know you in person. She said that you’re a businessman?”

“That I am!” her father responded loudly. “I am. I make different investments, and it’s worked well for me over the years. But in the last few months, I’ve thought about doing something a little different.”

Emma’s ears perked up. Her father hadn’t told her anything about doing something different other than not being involved in the Domino Gang anymore.

“I’m thinking about moving my business into town here. Everyone is moving out west, and towns are booming. Besides, being close to my only grandchild wouldn’t be a bad bonus.”

Emma’s jaw dropped open as she looked at Thomas for assurance that her ears weren’t betraying her. Had her father really just said he was considering moving out there? She wasn’t sure she was ready to receive that news.

Mary was already sharing recommendations about the town, though. Emma blinked a few times as things fell into place. Her father would never travel with so much stuff just to stay a couple of weeks. She should have guessed that he was planning to move here. Even though the idea first shocked her, she was pretty sure she liked it as it had a chance to grow on her.

As she rejoined the conversation, she realized that her father and Thomas’s were laughing about something. She hadn’t heard the joke, but to see two different men from two different backgrounds and beliefs enjoying each other’s company, she knew that she couldn’t ask for anything more.

Later that evening, after Thomas’s parents had gone home and her father had settled himself by the fire with the paper, Emma pulled Thomas into their bedroom. Isaac was already asleep on the bed, swaddled up tightly in his favorite blanket.

“I can’t believe how well our parents got along,” Thomas said as he sat on the edge of the bed and untied his boots.

Emma nodded. “I was surprised myself. I was eager to see my father again, of course, but I didn’t know how well he would fit into the life we have here. He’s so different from everyone.”

“So are you,” Thomas pointed out. “Do I need to remind you of the prank you played on poor Mrs. Hazelton?”

“You can’t put ‘poor’ in front of her name. She started the trouble before I did, so I plead my innocence there.”

Thomas reached for her, and Emma allowed him to pull her down onto his lap. He pulled the tie that released her hair from its bun, and it tumbled down her back. “Your father certainly has a personality, but I should have guessed that, knowing you as I do.”

“He told me today that I should stop baby talking Isaac and talk to him like a real adult.”

Thomas smiled and stroked her hair gently as he listened. 

“My father didn’t tell me he was thinking about moving here. I do want you to know that. I wasn’t keeping a secret or anything.”

“Your face when he announced it at supper was clear enough,” Thomas responded. “I think it will be good for him to move here, though moving his business here . . . I’m not sure what that entails exactly.”

“Neither am I, but hopefully, it will be all right.” Emma was a little concerned about that, but everything had worked out so far. There was no use borrowing worry from tomorrow.

“I guess even if he doesn’t learn mischief from you and all your pranks, Isaac will have your father around to instill it in him.”

Emma laughed loudly, then glanced at Isaac behind them on the bed. He stirred but quickly settled again. “Don’t make me wake up the baby, or you can be the one to rock him back to sleep.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Emma on Thomas’s knee as he stroked her hair. It felt surreal, the fact that this was her life, a mother of a beautiful baby and perhaps more in the future, but Emma couldn’t feel happier. She bent down and kissed Thomas gently. 

“You are an amazing husband,” she told him.

“And you are an amazing, although mischievous, wife.” Thomas kissed her back.

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