Chapter 7

A twelve-hour drive would've been a full day trip for Emma with only a few stops to rest and refill on gas. Instead, she knew it would be a little longer than expected to finally be home. It was the urge to be in places that she'd never been that held her up for almost an entire week. The fear of passing by the world around her when they were simply detours scared Emma.

Asheville was a quick drive from Chattanooga where she captured shots of the Biltmore Estate, a vintage mansion with towering peaks and soulless windows looking into darkness. A line of trees flanked the front of the mansion encompassing a vast field with a fountain. As Emma had sat in the field sketching the front of the home, she thought that it definitely would've made the cut for a cover of some fairy tale book.

After Asheville, Emma spent time in Raleigh, where she'd performed another daring stunt of trespassing on top of the tallest building to get a sunset view of North Carolina's state capital. From there, Emma traveled to the port city, Wilmington, where she continued to build her portfolio with images of Airlie Gardens: an attraction as colorful and enchanted as the forests of any Disney movie.

A twelve-hour drive turned into a five-day adventure of discovering the hidden gems of these cities and the beauty of the Atlantic beaches on the eastern seaboard. It ended up being more than what Emma's body could handle. By Saturday, her muscles stiffened like clothes hung out to dry. Her bones felt brittle, ready to crack if any more strain had to be put on them other than pressing the gas pedal of her truck. She knew jeans and a long sleeve shirt would make the ride comfortable and ease the pain. Her beige slip-on shoes she'd bought at a local boutique allowed her feet to breathe for the remainder of the drive home. Emma was worn out. Emma wanted to be home.

Luckily, it was a straight shot north from Wilmington to Virginia Beach, which took about five hours and the entire afternoon. It was around eight when Emma arrived at the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. The lights on the railing cast a whiskey shade above the two lanes of the North bridge. She lowered her window to let in the crisp air. The light breeze lifted her weary eyes and massaged her cheeks. Emma didn't care that her hair was blowing all over her face. It beat the staleness of the air conditioning that she'd had on all day.

It took her another two hours to cross the Virginia/Maryland border and another twenty-minute drive down Route 50 to Route 413 to be back in Crisfield. She wanted to go to Denver's house first, but knew that she needed some kind of plan. The only place that was open this late on a Saturday was Shanty's, so Emma drove into downtown Crisfield, turned onto several side streets, and pulled into the Shanty's parking lot.

She slowly drove her truck to the end of the parking lot while her eyes rotated like a security camera to see if Denver's truck was anywhere. There was hope that he was at the bar so that they could catch up. That was if he wanted to, of course.

Emma knew she had pulled the rug under him. His reaction to seeing the one that got away might be exacerbated by a drunken boy letting his feelings out, fueled by too much alcohol.

Chris would calm him down. I know he would.

Other than him, Emma would have no other person backing her up, which scared her. Denver wasn't abusive, physically or mentally. That wasn't what had her body sinking into itself as she turned the truck off. This was a small town with small-town news. Everyone knew everyone's business, and that had the potential to be blown out of proportion as quickly as the changing weather on the eastern shore. If there was a confrontation, all the regulars that knew Emma and Denver's past would sit quietly, eyeing her with glares as sharp as shattered glass.

She sat in her truck for a couple minutes, double-checking if Denver's truck was within eyesight. The low hum of the engine pushed out small but loud revs from the long drive. Maybe he got a new car. I don't see his truck anywhere. He's probably home.

Emma awkwardly put on the gray and red Terps hoodie while in the driver's seat, fixed her hair and makeup, and flowered herself with the strawberry-melon perfume. She cautiously got out of the truck thinking that Denver had seen her pull up and hid somewhere to scare her.

That was before you left him Emma. That would be the last thing he would do now.

The boats tied to the docks danced in the calm waters next to the sidewalk as Emma approached the front door of Shanty's. She could taste the cold beer. Her empty stomach decided Shanty's crab cake sandwich with crispy fries was dinner tonight too. Before grabbing the door a slight gust forced Emma to bundle up in her hoodie. She walked in, bringing the cool fall air with her, and headed for the empty bar stool tucked into the wall.

Chris was at the opposite end of the bar, leaning forward while taking a customer's order. Another bartender, someone Emma didn't know, approached her. She was young, probably training, with black hair in a side ponytail. Her makeup looked professionally done. "Hey, sweetheart. Welcome to Shanty's. My name is Rebecca and I'll be taking care of ya." The bartender popped the gum in her mouth, then asked, "What can I get ya tonight?"

"I'll take a Miller, draft, and a crab cake sandwich with Old Bay fries."

Rebecca took down the order then returned her pen to her ear and the pad in her back pocket then repeated the order out loud. "Hey, stay awhile. We're still open for another two hours." She gave Emma a wink and a click of her tongue before she went to the register to put in the order. Rebecca returned with a cold glass of beer then left to take care of her other customers.

Emma took a couple of sips while scanning the bar. The stage was empty except for the instruments posing to the audience. About a minute later the band came back on stage. They all wore jeans and a different classic rock shirt. The front man took a sip of his Corona, brushed his bushy hair out of his eyes, then said, "So the band and I would like to thank Shanty's for having us out tonight. We would also like to thank everyone coming out tonight and having a good time. You all are having a good time tonight, right?"

There was a rush of claps and cheers from the customers. Chris and Rebecca whistled from behind the bar.

"That's what I like to hear. So who here plays drums?"

A few people raised their hands.

"Great. Who here plays guitar and or bass?"

Emma noticed more people had raised their hands to the drummer question. Rebecca came over to her with her food and another beer. "Let me know if you need anything else sweetheart."

"What's going on?" Emma asked.

She took a fry and dipped it in her ketchup. Her stomach acted as a tree shredder, devouring the fry so quickly that it wasn't even felt in the stomach. "They've been here for about six months now. Part of their show is to let people in the crowd play with them. Just to get the crowd going. It's actually not a bad idea. You wouldn't believe how good some these people are."

"All right, all right, and this is the most important question. Who all can sing?" The roar of the crowd had the front man and the rest of the band smiling. As the band tuned their instruments, Rebecca continued to chat with Emma. "Every Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturdays are karaoke nights, which brings the entire community together. It's these nights when this Ocean City band is the musical jukebox that lets us sing along to all of the classics."

The front man took another swig of his beer then held it toward the crowd.

"So you all know the deal." The front man turned to the drummer. "All right Jim-Bo, why don't you take a break from this song? Get a beer, some food, while someone takes your place."

Jim-Bo, a hefty man with a scruffy beard adjusted his blue bandanna before getting up behind the drum set and heading offstage.

"Any drummers out there that want to play along to AC/DC's Back in Black, we are holding an open call right now," the front man continued.

Emma took a bite of her sandwich as she watched several hands go up to the offer.

"You there! Let's see what you got."

The bar crowd turned to the selected winner. Emma tried her best to see who it was, but the booth divider and the packed bar made it impossible. She clapped along with the crowd, cheering the person walking toward the stage. Chris and Rebecca looked like trees rocking in the wind as they tried to see who had been picked. Only the stage was fully lit which made everyone else shadows.

The chosen drummer was helped up to the stage by the front man.

Chris recognized the man with the full beard wearing khakis and a dress shirt. "You got this Denver!" he yelled from behind the bar.

Emma's mouth opened wide in awe as she stared at Chris. She dropped her sandwich and curled up like a turtle going back to its shell. Did Chris really say his name? Maybe it's a different Denver.

Chris glanced at Emma, then returned to Denver who was now behind the drums, then looked immediately back to Emma as if she was a mirage. Still huddled in an attempt to not be seen by Denver, Emma barely lifted her hand to wave at Chris.

Chris mouthed her name under his breath with eyes as large as capital Os.

"Yep, it's me," she said under her breath. Chris went around Rebecca and leaned over the bar.

"How the hell have you been, girl?" Chris yelled in an attempt to be louder than the bar crowd.

"Been good, Chris. Come here." Emma stood up and leaned over to give Chris a hug with closed eyes and a partial smirk. She didn't mind the faint smell of grease and dried beer on his shirt. The comfort of holding a friend outweighed any concern of the harsh restaurant smell that might be rubbed off.

"What the . . . ? I mean it's been . . . I'm so glad you are . . . do you want a shot?"

"Sure, Chris."

He grabbed two shot glasses and poured an almost empty bottle of Jack. Then he went into his wallet, grabbed six dollars, and put it in the cash register. They tapped glasses before they took their shots. "It's good to see you, girl. When did you get back?"

"About a half hour ago. I was starving, so I knew I needed Maryland's best crab cake sandwich."

"You came to the right place. Should I let him know you're here or do you want to see what happens?"

The front man counted one, two, three and the band with their new drummer began the classic rock song. The bar crowd clapped in unison while cheering Denver on.

"I'll make my way over there. I don't know how it will turn out. In fact, I didn't expect him to be here. You know him, Chris. He's a homebody. He'd rather be watching a movie or working on his laptop than going out."

Chris nodded to the surprisingly good cover of Back in Black. "Yeah, you're right about that. Looks like he still has his drumming skills. He was always a good drummer back when we had our little jam sessions."

Emma finished the last bite of her sandwich then washed it down with her third beer. "That seems like such a long time ago."

"About four years ago, right?"

Emma nodded then watched Denver swinging his arms and nodding his head to the song while banging on the drum set. "Your boy recently has had a change of heart. Look at 'em. He looks like a million bucks and comes off that way too. This is the second night he's been out. Last week it was with Tim. And then Sarah came home about a week ago. I think the stars are aligned or something cause the entire month so far has been a high school reunion."

Emma chuckled as she got up from the stool. She grabbed her beer and said, "I'm going to watch the band. Chris, it was great seeing you."

"This isn't goodbye already is it?" Chris stretched his arms out.

No wonder you played point guard back in high school, Emma thought. "No not at all. This is a temporary goodbye to make googly eyes at the drummer."

Emma walked around the center booths that divided the small concert area from the rest of the bar. She made her way through the dancing crowd until she was behind the front row of spectators. The great performance from the band cast a spell on Emma's body, making her move to the upbeat tempo of the famous solo of the classic rock song. She couldn't help swing her body as her hair danced across her face.

There was a lot of explaining to do with her disappearance, but none of that was a concern to the small-town girl dancing in the crowd and the small-town boy playing the drums. Emma left all her stress behind. For the remaining minute or so of the song, Emma's escape from the world was not taken for granted as she continued having a good time, uncaring to what was about to come.

The song ended with an applause, whistling, and shouting from the customers.

"Give it up for Crisfield's own. . ." The singer pointed the mic to Denver's mouth.

"Denver Mason."

The front man repeated Denver's name then politely asked him to exit the stage. The band continued on with their selection of a guitar player in the crowd as Denver made his way to the bar.

Emma was at the opposite side of the small audience watching the love of her life walk past people giving him high fives and patting him on the back. She cupped her mouth with joy to see that he was smiling and laughing. Yet, deep within the pit of her stomach, she fought hard not to release the valve that would have her in tears from the pain she had caused him.

Denver and Chris shook hands while Chris patted him on the back and rubbed his head like the way an older brother messes with the younger one. They joked and laughed as Denver molded his thick black hair into a side combover with his hands.

Chris brought him a cold beer and they continued to talk as Emma inched her way to the opposite side of the bar. She kept a close eye on Denver, somehow able to weave her way through the crowded bar without looking. She sat in the same bar stool in which she'd had her dinner, and Rebecca immediately came over and greeted her.

"Hey girl, wanna nother drink?"

"Yea. . . a Miller. Do a shot with me Rebecca? Bartender's choice?"

I need one. God I need one now. She took off her hoodie and hung it over the bar chair.

"You don't have to ask me twice. I never got your name."

"My name is Emma." Her eyes continued to lock on Denver still chatting with Chris and one of the regulars at the opposite end of the bar.

"Shots and a beer coming right up, Emma." Rebecca stepped away, fixed the drinks, then returned. She put the Miller on the coaster and slid the shot to Emma. "What to cheer about?" asked Rebecca.

"To the unknown." Emma tapped the bar with her shot. As she lifted the glass to her mouth, she was knocked forward by a drunken man being pushed by another man. The shot landed on Rebecca's work tank top as Emma's hoodie fell to the floor. Emma bent down to pick it up as Denver looked over to the argument between the two men.

Chris and the bouncer walked around the bar together, confronted the drunken regulars, and escorted them outside. She turned to see Denver staring at her like a deer frozen in front of headlights. She gave an awkward wave and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, Yup, I'm here.

The band continued on with the song Good by Better Than Ezra, and acted as the background music to Denver's walk to her. Emma put her hands in Denver's Terps hoodie. With her head down in shame or embarrassment, or a combination of both, she went around the bar to meet Denver halfway.

"What the hell you doing here?" Denver said in a rush.

Okay, I know you're angry. That was your one free shot at me though.

"I'm back, I'm back home, Denver."

Denver put one hand in his pant pocket with a slight lean trying to relax. "I see that, Emma. How are you?"

"I've been good. Thanks for asking." Short and sweet, this was the game that Emma wanted to be the captain of. She thought simple responses might grow into a more friendlier conversation. This is what she needed in order to beat around that large bush of bad history between the two of them, mostly her doing.

"Do you want a drink or something? A Miller?" Denver asked.

She smiled. He'd remembered her drink of choice. It was a small thing, yes, but it was something. "Sure, I'll buy though. I see your Jack and Coke is looking a little low."

Denver shook his watered down drink. "I could use another. Actually make that four—that way if you do slip out on me again, at least I'd be fortunate enough to see four of you from how drunk I'll be."

Emma tapped Denver's cheek, grabbed his hand, and led the way to the bar. She grabbed their drinks and sat at the last booth.

"You hungry or anything?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I got a crab cake sandwich and fries when I first got here."

There was a brief intermission of awkward silence and stiff sipping on their drinks, but Emma and Denver's eyes told another story as they connected.

"So when did you get here?" he asked.

"Right before you were the all-star drummer up there rocking to AC/DC. You still got it, I see."

"Yeah, that will never go away. The hoodie looks good on you."

Emma scanned the Terps hoodie. "I'm sorry Den. It was raining that night and I didn't bring anything warm. I know it was the only one you bought . . ."

"No worries. I'm actually kind of glad you took it. As much as I wondered how the hell you were doing, where you were, and if I was ever going to see you, at least I knew that I was with you in some small way."

"You know, I would never throw it away or anything like that."

"That's the thing. I knew that too. 'Cause if you did, I'd be asking for my sixty dollars back." Denver tapped the salt shaker then took another sip of his Jack and Coke. "Why Emma? Why'd you leave?"

Here goes, Emma thought.

"I don't know, Denver. I mean I do, but it's something that I only understand." She took a sip of her Miller then continued. "Look, you know I always ran away when I heard my dad begin to pop the caps on his beer cans. That was the sign he was about to blame mom for his shitty life and take it out on me. But who did I come to? You. Who did I run to in the middle of the night in pajamas and pink Converses? You. Now that I'm my own woman, I'm not running from anything anymore, I'm sprinting toward a new life. My life." The band on stage announced their final cover of Aerosmith's Livin' On The Edge. The crowd was less than before. It was getting late, but the night had just begun for the couple in that last booth of the bar.

"Well, a little heads up, some explanation, something would've been nice. You ducked out on the only person that truly cared about you. After you left, I was so close to going to College Park, but as you can see I am still here . . ."

Emma almost choked on her beer then immediately cut Denver off. "Then why the hell are you still in Crisfield, Den?"

"I . . . you . . ." Denver stuttered. He finished his Jack and Coke with one large gulp.

Oh. Emma understood at once. "You stayed here for me."

"I can sprint too, Emma. Got the running shoes to prove it. But for me, I can't sprint to a new life without you in it."

Emma had no response, because any response would steer him the wrong direction. Instead she quickly changed the subject to the changes in Crisfield. They continued to talk under the cover of dim lights and the sounds of 90s hits now being played on the jukebox. Emma told Denver about her travels across the US, and she was so excited about it she was sure it all sounded like one run-on sentence. Denver never told her to slow down.

After Emma excused herself from talking his ear off, she asked how he was doing. Denver ordered another two drinks then told her about his job, his running, and the projects around the trailer. There was no mention of his winnings. There was no mention of him being a multi-millionaire. All that was put on the back burner. That moment, with Emma a couple feet away when she had been miles away for far too long, was the peak of all the past nights and the future nights to come. Life was good now. Life was balanced and not even the stroke of luck of winning the lottery could break Denver from this moment of clarity.

Chris rang the small bell behind the bar for last call. Denver bought two more drinks. "Let's see if you still got it, Emma." Denver clinked his glass to Emma's bottle of Miller.

"Oh, what you think I'm rusty?" Emma chugged her beer, then snatched Denver's fourth Jack and Coke and took three large gulps.

"Looks like you still got it."

Emma let out a burp. "Oh god that was a bad idea, excuse that burp, please."

Denver chuckled. "No, that burp was well deserved my friend. Well deserved."

Once again, silence between them.

"So do you have a place to stay for the night?" Denver asked.

Emma could feel that his intent was to not get her in bed, but to make sure she really had a place to stay. "No, I was gonna crash at Somers Cove. You know the motel off of . . ."

"Yeah, I know the motel. Why don't you stay at my place for the night? At least you'll know that it is clean."

Emma grabbed Denver's empty glass and chewed on a piece of ice. She gave him a glare that made them both reconsider the offer. "All right. Walk me out to my truck, Denver?"

They left Shanty's a little after midnight under a clear fall sky. Emma followed behind Denver's truck along backroads that came back to her with every curve. It was like she'd never left, and when Denver pushed the gas pedal Emma knew that she was back home.

The quiet, desolate roads were perfect for truck racing. Back in high school Emma had watched as Denver raced, but it was now her time to burn some rubber. She swerved to the opposite lane with precision and drove next to Denver. They were along the outskirts of Crisfield, where streets were aligned with a few houses, racing under the cover of night. The full moon acted as a stadium light, giving Emma and Denver a clear view of the pavement. They disregarded being a little buzzed. They disregarded their lives and the lives of those out at one in the morning. For another memory in the books—and this moment would be just that, another time and place between two people in love—the concern for breaking the law was like the fine print that they never read or cared about.

They turned onto the single-lane street of Denver's trailer. Both trucks were neck and neck. A tap from the trucks could send one of them barrel rolling into a ditch. With the windows down, they laughed at each other until Denver slowed down. He knew the road was getting smaller as he felt the truck hitting the grass from giving Emma the majority of the road. Emma pulled into the driveway. The headlights of Denver's truck expanded from behind until they shut off. Denver and Emma walked up to the front porch with hands weakly locked together. He unlocked the front door to his trailer and let her in.

"You care if I wash up?" Emma asked.

"No, go ahead. There's fresh towels in the . . ."

"I know where they are," Emma blurted out.

"I'll get you some shorts and a shirt for the night. They'll be in my room."

Emma nodded then closed the door to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stripped down. The steam from the hot water swirled around the entire bathroom. She massaged the back of her neck, looking at herself in the mirror above the sink.

"Denver!" Emma shouted as loud as she could.

Denver knocked on the door. "Hey, everything okay?"

Emma stared at the door, her chest exposed until she realized that a towel would be more appropriate. Her heart continued to race. Heavy and quick breathing vented out of her mouth. Was it the buzz or was it love that made her feel this way? Maybe it was regret? All these emotions made her eyes water. Or was it happiness because the man who had waited for her all this time was just beyond the bathroom door? She let out a heavy sigh and focused on what she knew was real at this very moment.

She was safe. She was home. She was with Denver.

"I'm sorry," she said softly under the roar of the water coming from the shower.

"I didn't hear that. What did you say?"

"I . . . I want you to come in."

Only the running water responded. The door remained closed for a minute until Denver slowly opened the door to see Emma wrapped in a towel. He quickly walked over to her. With one swift pull, Emma let the towel drop to the floor. A second passed before she took off his shirt while he unzipped his pants. They kissed like passionate lovers do as they made their way to the shower.

#

Snap! Denver watched the picture of them lying in his bed come out of the bottom of her Polaroid camera. Emma waved the photo to speed up the drying process. "Here. This is for you."

Denver took it as he said, "I know what this means."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that you aren't staying long."

Emma kissed Denver on the forehead which made Denver gently push her back.

"Please, don't. I need to tell you this. You have the heart of a lion, Emma. No one can deny that. We will be asleep soon, wrapped around our own dreams. I'll wake up tomorrow to find your side of the bed empty, and I'm...I'm okay with that."

Emma turned away from the truth. Denver softly pushed her chin so that she faced him again. "Emma, I am okay with that. I will never stop loving you. I will never stop loving your passion. I will never stop loving what we had and what we may have in the future. Before you leave, a letter came in for you. Don't forget to take that on your way out."

Denver lifted himself up from the bed to give Emma a peck on the lips. He rested the picture underneath his winning lottery ticket that was on the nightstand, turned off the table light, and laid on his side. Emma kissed him on the back of the head and curled up next to him. It didn't take long for them to be off and away in their dreams.