Jon took a couple steps away. “Hello.”
“Mr. Crawford, this is Pam at Oakhurst Elementary. I’m calling about Emmy.”
“Is she okay?” His first thought was that maybe she was sick and needed to be picked up.
“Um. No, she’s not. She was dropped off late this morning. In fact, she’s only been here for the last twenty minutes.”
She should have arrived at school over an hour ago.
Pam went on with the bad news. “It seems she and her mother had some sort of . . . disagreement this morning that resulted in a rather bad haircut. At least one of the kids in her class called her ugly. Emmy is beside herself. She won’t stop crying. In fact, she’s so hysterical, she’s made herself vomit.”
“Oh my God. I had no idea.” He really didn’t know what to say, but the thought of anyone calling his daughter ugly made him livid. Knowing she was that upset only made it worse. “I’m not that far away. I can be there in a few minutes.”
“We’d appreciate that. She’s simply inconsolable.”
“I’ll be right there,” he assured Pam.
“You should know that we’ve contacted her mother as well. Because of the nature of what happened, Emmy’s rather strange appearance, and how she was delivered to us, we think it best to discuss the situation with both of you present to get a better understanding of what happened.”
The anger built inside him until he was holding the phone so tightly his fingers ached. “I would like to understand exactly what happened as well. Please tell Emmy I am on my way and I’m coming as fast as I can.” He hung up and turned to go back to Trinity, but she was already right behind him with her purse on her shoulder.
“What happened to Emmy?”
“One of the kids in her class called her ugly.”
Trinity scrunched her mouth into a disgruntled frown. “Well, that’s not nice at all.”
“I don’t think it’s all about that. Pam, the nurse, said something about her and Steph having an argument this morning before school, which is why Emmy arrived late. The school nurse called me and Steph in because they’re trying to figure out what really happened.” He took Trinity’s hand, so grateful for her calming presence during yet another Steph mess. “They said she’s hysterical, made herself ill, and is inconsolable.”
Trinity squeezed his hand. “Then let’s go get her.” She tried to pull him toward the door.
He tugged to halt her. “I’ve got this. You don’t want to dive into this mess.”
Trinity tilted her head and her shoulders sagged. “But Emmy needs us.”
Relief and deep appreciation filled him up. “She does. But Steph is going to be there. I don’t want to make a bad situation worse.”
“As in, she’ll see me and cause a scene.”
“Yes. And I like you happy and far away from Steph’s sharp tongue.”
She started walking toward the door. “Then you deal with your ex, and I will take care of Emmy.”
He caught up to her, took her outstretched hand, and linked his fingers with hers again. He’d given her an out and she didn’t take it. He appreciated her help and support. Emmy would be happy to see her. But he’d like to keep her and Steph as far apart as possible. Then again, if he and Trinity were really building something together, they’d all have to learn to get along.
He held the car door open for her.
She climbed in and met his gaze. “I’m going to table the conversation about you trying to buy me and Adria out of our business until later, but we will talk about it.” The tone didn’t bode well for him, or his proposal.
Yeah, he hated to leave that hanging between them because he hadn’t quite explained his plan. “It’s not what you think.”
He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side. He didn’t want her to believe he wanted to shut her out of the business she built. He drove out of the lot and headed for the school. “Really, Trinity, I just have some ideas. All I want is for you to hear me out.”
“Later,” she said, getting out of the car as soon as he parked in the lot. “Which way?” she asked when they met on the sidewalk.
He took her hand and led the way to the office where he supposed they’d taken Emmy. The second they walked in the door he heard a strange keening sound that broke his heart when he followed it into a room off the main lobby and found his daughter curled in a ball on the sofa, her hands over her head.
Pam crouched next to her with one hand on her back and looked up at him. “Mr. Crawford.”
He couldn’t speak. He went to Emmy and put his hand on her back. “Emmy, baby, I’m here. You’re okay.”
The eerie sound she made turned into a harsh cry.
He scooped her up and held her to his chest. “Okay, sweet girl, I’m here. You’re okay,” he assured her and held her tighter. “It’s all right now.” She clung to him with her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. She liked to squeeze him good sometimes, but this was a desperate embrace filled with fear that he’d let her go and something bad would happen to her.
“Emmy.” Trinity brushed her hand down Emmy’s disheveled and considerably shorter hair. “We’re both here for you, honey. Whatever happened, we’ll try to help.”
“I’m ugly,” Emmy wailed. “She cut it off and threw it at me.”
Jon raged inside, but he held Emmy and kept it contained because she’d had enough today, and the morning was barely over.
Pam met Jon’s gaze. “Apparently, her mother got angry while trying to brush Emmy’s hair and cut it off.”
Jon couldn’t really see the damage but it was apparent enough to Pam, and Trinity, judging by the frown and concern in Trinity’s eyes.
Trinity tried to console Emmy again. “It’s not that bad, sweetheart. We can go to the hairdresser and get it trimmed into a very pretty style.”
“It’s too short.” Emmy buried her face in Jon’s neck, but her crying had subsided as she hiccuped and tried to slow her breathing. All her long hair, which had once draped down to the middle of her back, had been cut haphazardly, as if Steph took handfuls of her hair and chopped it off, not caring that some of it was longer than other areas.
“I bet it will look really cute. Like a fairy’s haircut.” Trinity pulled out her phone and tapped a bunch of times, then held it up. “See. How about something like this?”
Jon loved that Trinity found several photos of models with short, chin-length dark hair that would look great on Emmy.
Emmy refused to look at first, so he tried to encourage her. “I think this one could work.” He made the general statement, hoping she’d want to pick one for herself.
Finally, Emmy raised her head and glanced over his shoulder at the phone Trinity held up. “Which one?” she asked him.
“I bet my favorite is the same as yours.” He wanted her to decide, because her mother obviously hadn’t given her a choice this morning about lopping off her hair.
Emmy tapped one of the photos, making it larger on the phone. “That’s nice.”
“I think that will look really cute on you,” Trinity agreed. “I’ll save the picture and we’ll show it to the hairdresser so she can cut your hair just like that.”