They strolled in the dusky twilight, hand in hand, away from the homestead when they should be returning to it. He said nothing, and Emma knew he was waiting for her to explain. She didn’t know how. She’d spent so long keeping everything to herself. That was her natural inclination now, and she wondered if he’d let her stay silent.
At the same time, Emma didn’t want him to let her. Things had changed within her, and she’d almost decided that all of this was happening for a reason.
“Sorry I ran out on you yesterday,” she said.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“I know,” Emma said. Ginger had grabbed onto her an hour ago and hugged her tightly for a very long time. The other women in the West Wing had too, and Emma had never felt so loved. “I’m sorry.”
“You have things you don’t want anyone to know,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I get that.” His boots crunched over the gravel, and Emma looked out over the marshlands that marked this side of the ranch. “I guess the good news is I got your phone number.”
Emma looked up at him, sure she’d heard him wrong. He started to chuckle, the sound growing into a full-blown laugh. “Oh, come on,” he said. “That was funny.”
Emma finally cracked a smile. “You wanted my phone number?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Why?”
He looked at her, something hooded in his eyes. “You want to know why I wanted your phone number?”
Emma shook her head, some of her senses returning. She really needed to get back on top of her game if she was going to keep her secret. The problem was, she wasn’t sure if she was going to do that. She went back and forth every other minute, and right now, everything was up in the air.
“No,” she said. “I know why you wanted it.”
“Yeah, so I could get you alone and hold your hand,” he said with a grin. He squeezed her fingers lightly.
“You want to know the things I don’t want to tell you,” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I get that,” she said, reconstructing the conversation they’d just had. “I’m—I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell you.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “One thing I learned from everything that happened to me is this: No matter what, everything comes out in the end.”
Emma’s internal organs trembled, and she adjusted her hand in his. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to tell you.”
Ted let more silence go by as he continued to walk. “You will when you’re ready,” he said. “I learned that too. Everything comes out when it’s the right time. When it’s ready.”
She nodded, her throat so tight. “Thank you, Ted.”
He squeezed her hand in response, and said, “I’ve got to get back. These old bones are still trying to adjust to all this work.” He sighed as he reached back with his free hand and pressed against his back. “And here’s a confession for you. I haven’t ridden a horse in many long years. And it lasted six seconds.”
Emma tried to hold back her laugh, but it came out anyway, a sort of pop of her breath. She laughed fully then, and Ted joined her.
“I can teach you to ride,” she said.
“Would you?” he asked. “I think Jess liked me until she saw me on my back in the dirt.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, still giggling. “And I’m sure Jess still likes you.”
“Maybe,” he grumbled. “I’m not a natural cowboy.”
“Sure you are,” Emma said. “I mean, you look the part, and you walk the part, and you definitely have that Texan twang.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” He reached up and put his hand on his cowboy hat. He turned around, and she went with him, and they started back toward the homestead.
“That’s the truth,” Emma murmured, and she enjoyed the leisurely stroll back to the homestead.
Ted released her hand in the garage, tipped his hat, and said, “See you tomorrow, Emma,” before continuing to the Annex.
She waited until he’d gone inside and closed the door. Then she said, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
She had no idea what tomorrow held, and that normally upset her. Made her stomach nervous and her skin crawl. But she had to accept it. She had to face each day with a new kind of bravery and handle one thing at a time.
Inside, she found Ginger sitting at the dining room table, looking at a spread of papers in front of her. She abandoned them the moment she looked up and saw Emma. “There you are.” She crossed the kitchen to her and hugged her again. “Where did you go?”
“To check on my babies,” she said, holding her friend tight.
“How are they?” Ginger fell back and looked at Emma, her dark green eyes never missing much.
“Good,” Emma said, her voice a touch on the high side. “Ted was out there.”
Ginger said nothing, but a frown appeared between her eyebrows.
“I gave him the beard oil and thanked him for taking care of my horses. He…he wants me to…Ginger, I need to tell you something.”
Emma swallowed, her throat sticky and rough at the same time.
“Anything,” Ginger said, glancing toward the hall that led to the bedrooms. When she looked back at Emma, there was no time left.
No way to find the right words. They didn’t exist. Emma could only pray that her best friend wouldn’t feel too betrayed. So she did that and then opened her mouth and said, “I have a daughter.”
Ginger absorbed the words, and Emma couldn’t believe how four words could change so much. “You do?” she asked, but her voice carried no surprise.
“Yes,” Emma said, nodding. “She’s ten—she’ll be eleven by the end of the year—and she lives with a couple in San Antonio. I send almost everything I make to them, and I hid her because her father is a bad man.”
Emma took a deep breath, trying to get everything to settle again. She’d never imagined this day, because she’d never intended to tell anyone about Missy. Ever. Her hands shook, and she couldn’t quite meet Ginger’s eye.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Ginger was so strong, and so capable. She ran this ranch with a lot of help, but nothing was done without her knowledge. To Emma, she held the world in her hand, and she couldn’t expect a woman like Ginger to understand her reasoning.
“It’s okay,” Ginger whispered. She gathered Emma into another hug and held her tight. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this by yourself for so long. You could’ve told me.”
Emma clutched her best friend, as she hadn’t felt this level of true comfort in a long time. In that moment, she missed her mother powerfully, and the bond between her and Ginger became even stronger.
“I wanted to,” Emma said, her voice tinny and childlike. “But I didn’t dare. The guy I was involved with is dangerous. He has a dangerous family, and I was so scared. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—put my baby in any danger.”
Ginger released her, and Emma wiped her eyes and kept her head down. “You think he may have found you.”