Em was genuinely taken aback. She’d just insulted her mother’s wifely skills and she was more concerned with a piece of paper.
Em snatched it from her hand. “Someone thought it would be funny to scratch off my father’s name and put in Ethan Davis. It’s just another one of the many pieces of hate mail I get because I work where women fornicate with their words, Mother.”
But Clora wasn’t responding to her snipe. Her hand was shaking as she slumped down on the floor against the wall. “Who sent it?”
She peered at her mother, confused by the look of terror in her eyes. “Mama, are you hearin’ anything I said? I don’t know who sent it. People who send things like that don’t leave a return address.”
“Someone knows.”
The ominous tone to Clora’s voice startled Em. “Should we cue the spooky music? Someone knows what?”
“That Ethan Davis is your father.”
*
Dixie opened the door to Em’s with her spare key to dead silence. Nothing but Dora greeted them. Dixie cupped Dora’s muzzle in her hands and cooed, “Where’s your mama, Dora?”
Jax reached down and scratched Dora’s head, taking in Em’s house. It was just like her—everything about it said Emmaline Amos lived here. From the warmth of all those crazy pillows she was so big on to the wall of pictures of the boys—it said Em. It smelled like her, it felt like her—if he could wrap himself up in it, he would.
Dixie began digging through a pile of papers on the counter.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go through—”
Dixie’s hand with the bangle bracelets on her wrist flew upward, her eyes fixed on the manila envelopes amongst the sale circulars. “Emmaline and I know everythin’ there is to know about each other, Jax Hawthorne. We have no secrets. There is no privacy when my best friend is missing. I know your arrangements are different, but I’m not above snoopin’ through her things if she’s in some kind of trouble. So you just hush with your concerns.”
Jax could see why Caine had chosen Dixie. She was a leader, a strong personality, strong and smart. So he nodded and kept his mouth shut. But he couldn’t stand still. Pacing in front of the wall of pictures of Em and the boys, he stopped at one in particular.
Em with Clifton Junior in a pile of autumn leaves, his chubby hands bracketing her face, his toothless grin wide, his eyes gleaming with adoration for his mother.
And Em, happy, free, beautiful.
His gut tightened when he reached for his phone again to see if maybe he’d missed a text. It was pointless because it hadn’t vibrated in hours, but he looked anyway.
Nothing. Damn it, Em, where the hell are you?
Dixie’s gasp pulled him from fruitlessly scrolling his phone. “You okay?”
She slid onto the breakfast bar stool and took deep breaths.
Jax crossed the room with Dora in tow and put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you feel okay?”
She held up a finger this time. “Give me just a second to process.”
Jax looked over her shoulder at the papers she’d been rifling through then he leaned in closer to be sure he was reading correctly. His eyes narrowed. “That son of a bitch is suing her for custody?”
Dixie’s nod was slow. “That’s not all.” She held up another piece of paper that looked official. “I know where Em is, and we have to go before a murder occurs right here in Plum Orchard!”
*
Em felt the life whoosh out of her then return in a rush of flashing lights and her blood pulsing through her veins. “What?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Clora crumbled, right in front of her eyes. Like someone had stuck a pin in her and she’d deflated. “Ethan Davis is your father.”
Her breathing picked back up. “No. Thomas Mitchell is my father.”
“Emmaline, we need to sit down—”
Em shook her head, horror spreading throughout her body. “No! I will not listen to you tell me you slept with Ethan Davis! I will not listen to you tell me my whole life was a lie!”
Clora reached for her hand. Physically put her hand out and sought to touch Em’s. Who was this woman? Em cringed, pushing herself away from her mother across the smooth linoleum. “Don’t.”
Clora pulled her hand back and shook her head, using the towel on her shoulder to wipe her eyes. “Then will you at least listen?”
Em fought for breath. Tears? Her mother was shedding real, live tears? “I will not listen to something so despicable. All my life you’ve lied to me. All of it. You’ve been hateful and angry and now I’m supposed to listen?”
“That’s why I lied to you, Emmaline! To protect you from the people of this town!”