You are strong. You can make your own decisions. Sophie’s voice was clear even if it was just in her head. Josh seemed like a nice person, but the thought of leaving the safety of the porch made her chest tighten, but it was time. If she wasn’t going to do anything but sit in a trailer, she might as well be back at the center.
“Okay.” She took several deep breaths and stopped just short of leaving the porch steps.
“You haven’t seen the back sides of the trailers yet,” Josh said. “They’re not all just alike. Sophie’s place here is a two bedroom, but that one”—he pointed—“is a three bedroom. The snowbirds that come in late October to winter and rent that trailer are the Howard couple. They make quilts while they’re here. They each use a bedroom as a craft room.”
Emma didn’t even realize she was off the porch and on the ground until they had passed that trailer and he was pointing at the next one. “This one is a lot like your place, only the bedrooms are on either end of the trailer. The Johnston couple stay here. They’re into making Christmas tree ornaments from wood, mostly scrub oak, that they find out there in the desert.” He waved toward the land between the park and the mountains.
“Christmas tree ornaments?” She could hardly believe that she was walking beside a man and didn’t feel like running away and hiding, or that she was enjoying the short trip around the trailers.
“Yep, they sell them online,” he answered. “He’s got a little scroll saw and she’s pretty good at painting them.”
“Who stays in Sophie’s trailer in the winter?” she asked.
“The Bluestones from up north in one of the Dakotas. They collect bird feathers and make jewelry out of them,” he answered.
There went any hope of Emma renting it on a permanent basis like Filly and Arty did. She was amazed that the thought even entered her head, but if she was going to be independent like Victoria said, she would need to find a place of her own and a job.
“This is my place. It’s the smallest of all the trailers and only has one bedroom. I’m more comfortable in small places than big ones,” Josh said.
“Did you grow up in a huge house?” Emma asked.
Josh nodded. “It overwhelmed me, so when I bought this place, I chose the smallest of the trailers, and I’ve never regretted it.”
She could well understand what he was saying. She wouldn’t regret living in a trailer the rest of her life, either. “I was raised in a huge house, too. I had my own suite of rooms on the second floor, and my nanny had her own rooms right next to mine. The house has always overpowered me . . . ,” she said, “or maybe it overwhelmed me. Whatever the word is, I’ve always wanted something small.
“I wanted to build one of those tiny houses, but my mother said no,” she continued. “You’ve got a table back here, too. Is this where you work?”
“Sometimes,” he answered, “when I don’t need to be by myself. On the other days, I take my equipment out toward the mountains and work out there.”
They rounded the curve, and Josh whispered, “This is Filly’s place. She and Arty live here permanently. I’m glad they do. They’re like grandparents to me.”
“Oh, my!” Emma gasped when she saw dozens of hummingbird feeders hanging across the back of the long trailer.
“That’s where we get the name,” Josh explained in a serious tone. “Hummingbird Trailer Park is located on Hummingbird Lane. In most places, that species shows up in the spring and then migrates in the winter, but we’re just far enough south that we have them all year. We buy sugar in twenty-five-pound bags so we can keep them happy.”
“What’s with the long table and chairs?” Emma asked.
“That’s where Filly works when the weather is nice. She loves company, so anytime you feel like it, just pop around here and watch her paint.” Josh kept walking.
“And this last one is Arty’s place. You can see that he has a workbench. He does metal art, and he has a welder to help with some of it. Things get pretty messy in our backyards, but it doesn’t matter. We’re all artists of one kind or another.” He rounded the end of Arty’s trailer. “And that’s our supper table. Want to sit awhile?”
Emma covered a yawn with her hand. “Maybe another time. I’m really sleepy right now. Thank you for the tour.”
“You are very welcome. I’ll walk you to your porch, since you ain’t too fond of the dark,” he said.
“That’s so sweet of you.” She smiled.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, he backed off several feet and said, “Good night, Emma. Feel free to roam around anywhere you want. You are safe here.”
“Thanks again.” She nodded and opened the unlocked door.
“Hey, are you all right?” Sophie rubbed her eyes as she poured a glass of milk.
“I couldn’t sleep, so Josh showed me around the trailer park, but I can hardly hold my eyes open now.” Emma yawned again. “Did you have trouble sleeping, too? And why is the door unlocked?”
“We never bother locking doors out here,” Sophie answered. “If you’ll remember, we drove five miles on a county road to get to the trailer park, and Hummingbird Lane is a dead-end road. Teddy called. It’s already breakfast time in France. He’s done over there and is flying to New York today. Hopefully I’ll get to see him in a couple of weeks.”
If Emma ever did have a relationship with a guy, she wanted it to be just like what Sophie had. She wanted to have the same gleam in her eyes as Sophie had.
“Will I be in the way when he comes to see you?” Emma asked.
“No, honey, by then you should feel right at home here in the trailer. Teddy will pick me up and we’ll go on a little mini vacation for a few days or maybe a week if he can be away that long. I’ll leave the SUV for you in case you get stir-crazy and want to take a drive,” Sophie said. “But that’s only if he can take the time off.”
“How do you manage a long-distance relationship like that?” Emma asked.
“It works for both of us. We love each other, but we’re kind of married to our careers,” Sophie answered. “Want a glass of milk before you try to get some sleep?”
“No, I’m good.” Emma went to her room, kicked off the boots and her jeans, and got back into her bed. She closed her eyes and went right to sleep.
Chapter Six
Emma couldn’t remember a time when Victoria had not preached—more like drilled into her—that the clothes make the woman.
“She is so right,” she said to her reflection in the floor-length mirror hanging beside the living room door. “And this is the woman that’s been hiding inside me for years.”
“What was that?” Sophie asked as she came out of the bathroom with a towel around her body.
“The clothes do make the woman.” Emma twirled around and checked her reflection from the back. “I love being able to order things and have them delivered right to the house.”
“That orange tank top matches the gauze skirt just perfect. That bright color puts a tint of pink in your cheeks,” Sophie told her. “Are you going to eat with us tonight—no pressure, but you look so pretty.”