Page 27 of Holding Ground

Hollis’s eyebrows lift.

“Let’s ante up.” I toss my poker chips in the middle of the table with the hopes of getting this going.

“Deflection through poker chips. Who thought it would go another way?” Ansel takes a pull from his beer.

Hollis tosses his chips in the pile.

Clyde—and I never thought I’d say this—thankfully launches into a story about a developer who tried to buy the marina from him over thirty years ago. It takes at least twelve minutes with a lot of pauses and fact changes, containing at least three details that are patently false, but we all listen and nod anyway.

Roy keeps the game moving, and Jimmy curses when he’s the first one out, but drowns his sorrow with the other half of Marlene’s banana bread.

Sam keeps eyeing me but says nothing.

All the while, I focus on my cards and try not to think about the light from the bunkie visible through my sliding glass door.

CHAPTER

TEN

Emelia

It’s late, but I can’t sleep. If I were still in Boston, there would be lots of options, lots of places to go until the pull of sleep hits. But since I’m in Echo Lake, some wine, a blanket, and stargazing are as good as it’s going to get.

When I’m done pouring the wine into my glass, I put the bottle back in the small fridge, grab a blanket off the corner of the small loveseat, and head outside. The grass is cool under my bare feet as I make my way toward the dock where two loungers and two Adirondack chairs sit at opposite ends, facing the lake. They look as good a place as any to wallow.

I’ve been all up in my head since yesterday. First, the phone call from my doctor, then the realization that I’d missed something important in the development proposal. And, of course, it was Elliott who shone a spotlight on my oversight, in front of the whole town at that.

My steps are quiet as I reach the end of the dock.

“Holy hell!” I yelp, finding Elliott on the chair I was about to sit in.

Elliott lies there in a long-sleeved Henley and jeans, barefoot, with a bottle of beer resting on his abdomen. His gaze flicks my way, but he doesn’t move his head to look me in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were out here. I’ll leave.” I shift to turn around, ready to scurry off like a rabbit.

“Sit.”

I bristle at the sound of a command in his tone. “It’s fine.”

“Emelia, have a seat.” He gestures to the lounger to his left. There’s a hint of annoyance, and I want to just tell him off.

Rather than arguing, I walk over to the lounger and sink into the chair.

Neither of us says a word. The soft sound of the water lapping at the shore surrounds us.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually I relax. The wine helps in that regard. Closing my eyes, I attempt to let the stress of the day slide away.

The call from the doctor was certainly a surprise, but I’m not that worried. Maybe it’s because I feel fine, certainly less fatigued since I arrived in Echo Lake. Perhaps I should be more worried about the test results, but what’s bothering me most is the question about my maternal health history. Though it would be nice to have that information, that’s not why it’s on my mind.

I want to know more about my biological mom. About where I come from. About this half of me that I’ve never had any connection to. That, at times, even though I’ve never admitted it to anyone, has left me feeling adrift and like I don’t fully belong anywhere.

Elliott’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Thanks for doing Baylor’s hair the other morning.” His voice is reluctant, as though the words cost him something.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll make sure Baylor is not knocking on your door every morning looking for more of the same.”