The Calamity Janes

“Maybe she just has good instincts about who belongs with whom,” Lauren said, casting a speculative gaze at Emma. “I can see you with a journalist.”

“Me? Never,” Emma said fiercely. “They’re always poking their noses in where they don’t belong. Just look at the way he’s been watching Sue Ellen and Donny, taking mental notes. If the opportunity arises, he’ll report this without giving a second thought to the consequences.”

“Which are?” Lauren asked.

“If Donny and Sue Ellen have a serious problem, putting it in the paper will only escalate the tension,” Emma predicted.

“Or maybe getting it out into the open will force them to face what they’re doing to each other,” Karen said, looking thoughtful. “Everybody tiptoes around it, because Sue Ellen clearly doesn’t want to acknowledge that Donny hits her. It’s just one of those unspoken truths that everyone knows.”

“And you think publicly humiliating her will make the situation better?” Emma demanded. “I say she needs to be able to cling to whatever dignity she can.”

The others sighed.

“I doubt we’re going to solve Sue Ellen’s problems for her,” Cassie said. “She has to want to get out of the relationship.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t wait too long,” Emma murmured. She glanced in Sue Ellen’s direction, but when their classmate realized she was the subject of Emma’s scrutiny, she fled, her cheeks flaming.

“Okay, enough of this,” Karen said. “I’m going to look for my husband. I want to dance.”

Gina and Cassie drifted away as well, leaving Emma alone with Lauren.

“You’re really concerned about Sue Ellen, aren’t you?” Lauren asked.

Emma nodded. “I’ve seen too many women like her in my pro bono work. They’re scared to go and they’re terrified to stay. Either way, their lives are hell. A few make it out. Too many stay and wind up severely beaten or dead.” She shuddered. “It’s the most depressing kind of case I handle. I don’t do it often, because it takes a terrible toll on me emotionally. I keep thinking, ‘there but for the grace of God go I.’”

Lauren stared at her in shock. “Kit?”

Emma nodded reluctantly. She never spoke about what the last days of her marriage had been like, but she couldn’t bring herself to skirt the truth with Lauren. “He never laid a hand on me, but the psychological abuse was almost as bad.”

“You never said a word about this,” Lauren said, her gaze filled with concern. “What did he do?”

“He did everything he could to convince me I would never make it as an attorney,” Emma said, chilled by the memory. “He wanted me dependent on him, emotionally and financially. I was lucky—I’m stubborn and strong willed. He couldn’t intimidate me. I believed I could succeed without him. After all, I had made it into one of the best colleges in the country and had finished law school at the top of my class. I refused to let Kit diminish those accomplishments.”

“Yet even now that he’s out of your life, you’re still proving yourself to him, aren’t you?” Lauren said, regarding her thoughtfully. “That’s why you work so hard.”

Emma opened her mouth to disagree vehemently, but the denial died on her lips. “You could be right,” she admitted slowly. “I never considered that before.”

“Maybe you should think about it now,” Lauren advised, “so you’ll be able to give yourself permission to slow down. You don’t want to wake up one day and realize you’ve missed every single important event in Caitlyn’s life all because you were trying to prove something to a man like Kit Rogers.”

“Caitlyn’s only six,” Emma said defensively. “She hasn’t had a lot of important events.”

“She’s had birthdays, hasn’t she? And Christmases? And school vacations? How many of those have you spent with her?” Lauren asked.

“I’ve never missed a birthday or Christmas,” Emma retorted.

“Good. But I know for a fact that this is the first trip the two of you have taken in two years. Part of the joy of being a mother is seeing things through your child’s eyes. You’re missing that.” Her expression turned wistful. “If I had what you have, I wouldn’t waste a second.”

Lauren’s words struck a nerve, which was probably why Emma felt inclined to snap at her. She resisted the urge, confining herself to a pointed question. “When did you get to be an expert on motherhood?”

“Wishful thinking,” Lauren said lightly.

“I’ve never heard you talk about kids before.”

“Maybe I just never heard my biological clock ticking quite so loudly before.” Lauren forced a smile. “Enough of this. I’m going out right this second to find myself the handsomest man in the room to dance with, even if he’s married to somebody else.”

“Just don’t forget to give him back,” Emma teased. “I don’t want to have to rescue you from a vengeful wife.”

Lauren waved off the suggestion as she began weaving through the couples on the dance floor. Only after Lauren had gone did Emma realize that her friend had taken Emma’s cell phone with her.

“You look a little lost,” Ford Hamilton noted, pulling out the chair next to her. “Missing your phone?”

She was startled by his intuition. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Do you conduct a lot of business on a Saturday night?”

“When necessary.” She frowned at him. “I still don’t want to be interviewed, Mr. Hamilton.”

“I got the message. You don’t object to dancing with a journalist, though, do you? I promise I won’t take notes if you miss a step or two.”

Emma hadn’t been on a dance floor in…well, too long. Listening to the oldies being played by the band reminded her that once she had loved to dance. She’d been good at it, too. If she could forget for a minute who and what he was, it could be fun.

“Let’s wait for a fast dance,” she said, eyeing him with amusement. “Then we’ll see if you can keep up.”

“No contest,” he retorted. “Anything you can do—”

Emma laughed. “Don’t finish that thought. I might view it as a challenge.”

“It was meant to be.” His gaze clashed with hers.

To Emma’s astonishment, she felt a little tingle of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Her pulse did an unexpected dip and sway that left her feeling giddy. Fascinating. Lately the only time she felt any stirring of excitement was in a courtroom. Discovering that Ford Hamilton could have the same effect was more than mildly intriguing.

One dance, she promised herself. No more. Just for the sheer exhilaration of it. And if she felt a bit off-kilter, a bit breathless at the conclusion, she could blame it on the unfamiliar exertion. It certainly wouldn’t have anything at all to do with the man who was regarding her with such an amused glint in his blue eyes.

The beat of the music slowed, as the band slid from one tune to another, but then the pace quickened. Emma recognized an old Chubby Checker hit.

“They’re playing our song, Mr. Hamilton,” she said, reaching for his hand and drawing him onto the floor.

He was a tall, lanky man, and the twist was definitely not his dance. He was a good sport about it, though, laughing when they drew a cheering, clapping crowd of her friends.

At the end of the song, Emma was ready to claim victory, but Ford wasn’t quite so quick to release her. As the band began a slow song, he drew her into his arms. She went with less reluctance than she’d intended.

For a beat or two, Emma held herself stiffly, but then the music, the scent of Ford’s aftershave, the gentle pressure of his hand against her back, had her relaxing into the rhythm. Her cheek fit perfectly against his shoulder. It was rare that she’d been with a man who had several inches in height on her own five-ten. She caught herself right before she sighed with the pure pleasure of it.

This time, when the song ended, he released her, then took a step back. He seemed suddenly wary, as if the dance had been more than he’d bargained for, as well.

“Thanks for the dance,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around town.”

His dismissal irritated her, but she managed to keep her voice and her expression cool. “I doubt that. I’ll be leaving on Sunday.”