Hummingbird Lane by Brown, Carolyn (good books to read for beginners TXT) 📕

what happened,” Emma answered. “I remember the details now—the satin sheets, the pain, and all of it. Now that I’m thinking rationally, Mother would have said I was stupid and irresponsible to get myself in that situation, and then she would have asked me if I’d been leading them on by wearing inappropriate clothes.”

“Nothing could make me madder or sadder or . . .” Sophie’s voice cracked. “Or make me want to shoot someone myself than thinking about what was done to you. You trusted your friend, and he betrayed you. The first time you went to a guy’s apartment, he molests you. You don’t trust your mother enough to tell her what happened. I’m so sorry this happened to you, but I’m most sorry that I wasn’t there to help you through this.” The waterworks turned loose, and Sophie sobbed. “No woman or girl should ever have to endure something so horrible. Please remember, none of this is your fault.”

“My mind is reeling.” Emma grabbed Sophie in a fierce hug. “All these years and now I find out that I’m really, really damaged goods. Even if I could ever be”—she wiped her eyes—“in a relationship, who would have me? Please don’t tell the others. I couldn’t bear the sympathy right now. I need to sit on this for a while before we tell anyone else, not even Rebel.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here. We can talk. We can take walks. Whatever you want to get through all this. It won’t be easy.” Sophie hugged Emma again. “It’s up to you when we tell other people, if we ever do.”

“I blamed myself.” Emma wiped her wet cheeks on her shirtsleeve and then buried her face in Sophie’s shoulder. “Even in the hospital before I ran away, I knew I was at fault. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have had any of the champagne. No one would ever have believed me if I had told. He was the big shot on the football team. So I made myself believe that it didn’t happen. Do you think the nightmares will ever stop?”

Sophie hugged her even tighter. “Like I said before, and I’ll say every day from now on, none of this is your fault. Remember that most of all. Hopefully, in time the dreams will stop.”

“Do you really think that’s even possible?” Emma’s chin quivered.

“Yes, I do. You will find your strength, Em, right here away from everything and everyone in your past except me. I love you like a sister. And the other three folks here—well, they already care about you, so you’re among friends. If you want to throw stuff or scream or curl up in a ball and cry, I’m right here for you,” Sophie said.

“Look at us.” Emma tried to smile. “We look like we did that last day when we knew we wouldn’t see each other again. We both cried, and after Rebel left with you, I curled up in a ball in my bed and wept until there were no more tears.”

“Tears wash our souls,” Sophie told her as she stood up and went to the kitchen.

“Tears on the outside fall to the ground and are slowly washed away. Tears on the inside fall on the soul and stay and stay and stay,” Emma whispered. “I’m glad you are sharing this soul cleansing with me.”

“Who said that?” Sophie opened the refrigerator and brought out a quart of strawberry yogurt.

“It was a framed quote on one of my many therapists’ walls. I have no idea who said it.” Emma took the last paper towel on the roll and wiped her swollen eyes. “I thought friends cured their emotional pain with ice cream.”

“Not artists.” Sophie handed Emma a spoon. “We color lizards purple and neon green, and we eat strawberry yogurt right out of the container when we hurt.”

Chapter Seven

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Sophie’s eyes popped open. “My poor Em,” she sighed. “I’m not sure I’m smart enough to help her through this, but I’ll do my best.”

She went to the bathroom, washed her face in cold water, and then headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. While the coffee brewed, she went out to the porch and stared at the painting she’d been working on. No wonder Emma couldn’t paint. She had related that last work she’d done with the horrible experience.

“Nothing smells better than coffee in the morning.” Emma yawned as she made her way into the kitchen. “Do you still know how to French braid?”

“Of course, but I still can’t braid my own hair. You want to do it for me?” Sophie stepped inside the trailer. “How are you holding up?”

“I was afraid to go to sleep last night,” Emma answered. “I finally got up and went out on the porch. I told myself that those stars up there were the same ones that were shining the night all that happened, and they’d gone right on living, so I could, too. I’m not sure if knowing what happened is any better than not knowing. Then Coco showed up and followed me into the house. She curled up beside me, and then I slept like a baby.”

“We should get a cat when we go back to Dallas,” Sophie said.

“I’m not ready to go back, Sophie. This is where I’m figuring out things. I don’t even know why, but I love it here—all of it. The trailer, the cat, the people, and maybe someday, if I stay long enough, I’ll even love myself.” Emma waved her arms to take in the trailer and everything that made up Hummingbird Lane. She crossed the living room and opened the refrigerator door. She took out the milk and made herself a bowl of cereal, shaking the box in Sophie’s direction as if to offer.

How could Emma think about food at a time like this? Sophie’s heart was breaking again for her friend, and yet she understood so well that