She dried her wet cheeks on the sheet and called him.
“Are we okay?” Teddy asked.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You’re saying the words, but your tone isn’t agreeing with them,” he told her. “I can be there in a few hours.”
“No, don’t. I don’t deserve for you to love me or to come down here and comfort me. I don’t even deserve to know someone like you. Do you even realize that there must be something wrong with you to want to spend the rest of your life with someone like me?”
“Good God, Sophie!” he said.
She could imagine him running his fingers through his hair.
“What’s gotten into you? Have you lost your mind? We were so happy right up until I left. This is more than a fight about a sofa. What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“Nothing is wrong with me. I just need to be alone,” she said and ended the call.
She turned the phone off and laid it on the bedside table. She could call her mother, but Rebel would throw a suitcase in her car and be there by suppertime. Sophie couldn’t face her, not with these feelings that had come over her.
“Would I have been that way with my baby? Would I have been a smothering mama?” she whispered as she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
Three sets of eyes full of questions met Emma when she went to the supper table that evening. She wasn’t sure what to tell them. In what should have been the happiest time of her life, Sophie had hit rock bottom. She hadn’t been out of bed all day, except to go to the bathroom. She hadn’t eaten a single bite of food, and when Emma tried to talk her into getting out of bed and going to supper, she refused.
Arty said a quick grace and then raised an eyebrow toward Emma.
“I don’t know what to do for her,” Emma said. “She’s always been the strong one. Now all she will say is that she doesn’t deserve to be happy. She and Teddy are fighting over something as silly as which sofa to take to their new house. She had a great showing and sold a lot of pictures, but that didn’t make her happy. I don’t know what happened or how to fix it, but I feel like it’s up to me to take care of it.”
“Usually when she comes home from a few days with Teddy, she’s whistling and all fired up about getting back to work,” Josh noted.
“Is she sick?” Filly asked. “Maybe she’s pregnant.”
“She’s sick, all right,” Emma said, “but not because of a baby.” She held her plate out for Filly to dip chicken potpie onto it. “I see the signs of deep, major depression. She won’t eat, and she’s holed up in her bedroom under the covers.”
“You can rescue her like she did you,” Josh suggested.
Good grief! Emma thought. I’m barely taking baby steps in this hunt to find myself. How can I ever rescue someone as strong as Sophie has always been?
“How would I do that?” Emma asked. “I can’t imagine being in a better place than right here to heal.”
“For you,” Arty said. “But Sophie needs to get her own mojo back. She used to disappear into the Big Bend park while she was here, and that seemed to make her happy. Take her there, and don’t come back until she’s healed.”
“I’ve got a couple of sleeping bags you can use,” Josh offered.
“I’ll pack food to last a few days,” Filly said.
“I’ll help Filly with that food idea. We can combine what we’ve got in our trailers so y’all won’t starve,” Arty said. “When are you leaving?”
Emma felt like a whirlwind had just hit her. She wasn’t sure how to even get to the park, much less camp out for days, or until Sophie got her mojo back, as Arty put it.
“Who’s going to help me carry her out kicking and screaming?” Emma asked.
“That part is your job,” Filly answered. “Did you kick and scream when she rescued you?”
Emma served herself another helping of the chicken potpie. “Not so much, but I was worried about Mother and what she might do.”
“Well, your job with Sophie is easier than she had with you, then,” Arty said. “Rebel won’t give you any trouble.”
“What’s in the park?” Emma asked. “Do they have places to buy junk food and stuff like tourists want?”
“Just mountains, rocks, and lots of cactus,” Josh said. “There’s a small convenience store at a junction. Fuel is expensive in the park, so fill up the gas tank in Sophie’s vehicle before you enter. You can get ice, drinks, and the essentials there, but they close early in the evening. You’ll need to take toilet paper, paper towels, and . . .”
“What about showers and bathrooms?” Emma asked. She’d just spent the night in a cave, but she couldn’t imagine living like that for days on end.
“Got several bathrooms along the way, but sometimes they’re out of toilet paper, and they’re mostly outdoor toilets—no flush. They do have picnic tables scattered around,” Josh answered. “A couple of places offer showers, but pack your own soap, of course.”
There had been a sign on one of Emma’s therapists’ desks that said SOMETIMES WHEN THINGS ARE FALLING APART, THEY ARE ACTUALLY FALLING IN PLACE. Emma had thought about that often, but it never made as much sense as it did that evening. She had been falling apart, and Sophie had arrived to help her. Now it was her turn to help Sophie find her inner strength again.
Emma took a deep breath and nodded toward Josh. If she had to stay in the desert with no showers for a week and use smelly potties, then that’s exactly what she would do. She owed Sophie that much and more for helping guide Emma back to her own life.
“All right, then, when should we leave?” Emma asked.
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow morning would be good. How long did Sophie give you to make up your mind about leaving?” Arty asked as he spooned up a bowl full of peach cobbler.
“About two minutes,” Emma answered.
“Then don’t give her more than that,” Filly said.
“We can start loading the SUV tonight,” Josh said. “Take at least three canvases for her and a few for yourself. Watching her paint was inspiration for you to start, so give her a dose of her own medicine and inspire her with your eagerness to work.”
Emma finished off her food and then dipped up her own peach cobbler. “I guess we should have it loaded and ready or she’ll make a hundred excuses as to why she can’t go. So how many canvases do you think it will take before she’s cured?”
“Take four,” Arty said. “Better to have too many than not enough.”
And she may slice one to ribbons.
“Good cobbler and great supper, Arty,” Emma said. “Maybe I could take a plate in to see if I can entice Sophie to eat. If she will get up out of bed, maybe we won’t need to leave.”
Emma knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that wasn’t the case. She had spent the better part of a week hiding in her bed after the rape, and then another week at home before Victoria checked her into the first institution because she couldn’t come out of a deep depression. That’s where she’d learned to say, “I’m fine,” just like Sophie had told her a dozen times. Now that she was on the other end of the conversation, she understood why the therapists never believed her. Saying the words did not mean anything when the tone was graveyard dead.