Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 43

Theodore’s phone rang, abruptly cutting off the music.

Caller ID: Baby Cici.

That name was enough to stop Emma’s tears in their tracks.

Theodore switched off the Bluetooth, pulled the car over, and answered.

Emma couldn’t make out what was being said, but she watched as Theodore’s expression grew increasingly grave.

“I’ll be right there,” he said at last, lowering his phone and looking at her. “Emma, I’ll take you home first. Cici’s sick. I have to check on her.”

Just as she expected.

She opened the car door. “Don’t bother. I’ll get home on my own.”

“Emma-”

Whatever he was about to say was lost behind the slam of the door. She left him standing there, cut off as cleanly as the conversation.

Theodore didn’t linger. He swung the car around and sped off without a moment’s

hesitation.

Emma stared after the car as it disappeared down the street. She felt numb, as if some sharp–clawed creature had ripped through her chest, leaving her heart raw and bleeding–but even the pain was gone now, replaced by empty silence.

She pulled out her phone to call a cab, but it rang before she could. Unknown number.

“Hi, I have a delivery for you–two boxes of fruit. Are you home?”

Fruit? She hadn’t ordered any fruit. “Who’s it from?”

“It’s local. Grapes. The sender’s last name is Bennett.”

Emma understood instantly.

It was her grandmother.

Grandma lived out in the country, tending her garden and vineyard. She must have sent Emma some fresh grapes to enjoy.

Emma stood on the sidewalk, watching as the sky above her faded from blue to dull

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gray. Suddenly, she found herself aching for her grandmother–missing her so much

it hurt.

“Someone’s home. Please just leave the boxes inside and tell them to put the grapes. in the fridge,” she said, her voice thick. She needed to see Grandma. She couldn’t wait another minute.

She flagged a cab and headed straight for her grandmother’s house.

If there was anyone left in this world who truly loved her, it was Grandma.

After retiring from her teaching job, Grandma had moved back to the old family house in the country, where she lived alone, tending flowers and growing fruits and vegetables.

Emma only wanted to repay Grandma’s kindness, to take care of her in return. She’d pleaded with Grandma to move to the city, even offered to buy her a small apartment nearby, but Grandma always refused, saying she couldn’t bear to leave her garden and

her flowers.

Emma knew that was just an excuse. Grandma didn’t want to be a burden. Even when she sent fresh produce, she’d never come herself, always choosing to mail it, never wanting to disturb Emma’s life in the city.

But what Emma longed for most was for Grandma to need her, to trouble her, to show up at her door unannounced.

When she was a child, Emma had loved dancing. Her parents hadn’t supported her–it was too expensive, they said. But Grandma insisted, scraping together the money to send Emma to classes, paying for everything herself.

From then on, it was Grandma who paid Emma’s dance tuition, and even her high

school fees.

Emma had boarded at school since high school. Tuition, living expenses–her parents hadn’t given her a cent. In their eyes, educating a daughter was pointless; sooner or later, she’d marry and belong to someone else’s family. Why waste money?

Worse, her mother saw Emma’s looks and dance skills as a ticket to a wealthy marriage. The plan was simple: as soon as Emma turned eighteen, she’d be married off to a rich man, and the wedding money would pay for her brother’s future.

Later, when Emma was accepted by a top dance academy, her parents pressured her to apply to the local free teacher’s college instead–become a dance instructor, earn some money, and stay close to home.

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Her father had put it bluntly: “We don’t have the money for you to go away to college. Either you enroll in the free program here, or you stop going to school.”

It wasn’t that Emma looked down on teaching. But she’d placed first in the national audition for the best dance academy in the country.

It was Grandma who encouraged her to follow her dreams, to choose her own path. Thanks to her, Emma had made it.

And when Emma hurt her leg, her parents just shook their heads in disappointment. “How’s a cripple supposed to marry rich?” they sighed. Then immediately started calculating how much compensation they could get out of Theodore.

Chapter 44

Chapter 44