But she'd since mellowed. Now she had on her stubborn face. She'd determined a path for her life and she was going to plow through no matter what. She behaved as though she was certain Travis would take her back eventually. Now this apartment thing.
Of course, it wasn't a bad idea. The more Emma listened, the more she found the prospect exciting. It would be a level of freedom she'd never before experienced. Freedom. She hadn't known she was craving it. But freedom to do what? It wasn't like she had a curfew or anything.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure it's worth the trouble."
"Oh, come on!" Arden said. "I know you have a great relationship with your parents. But they're still parents. They may keep quiet, but they're looking on you with eyes of judgment. Just think about it. Your own place. You can put whatever you want in the fridge. You can eat a whole package of Oreos at midnight without having to sneak around quietly. You can clean house or not clean house. Lay around in your pajamas at noon. All with no one judging you. It's going to be awesome."
Emma leaned forward and swirled some cream into her coffee. "I guess it could be kind of fun," she said.
"Yeah?" Arden said, surprised.
Emma shrugged. "I guess. We could try it."
"That's right. Nothing's forever. If we don't like it we move back home."
Emma looked up and smiled. "Okay. Let's do it."
"Really?"
Emma nodded.
"Great!" Arden started cramming papers into folders and shoving everything into her laptop bag.
"Where are you going?" Emma asked.
"It's only four. I think I can get us the apartment today. I'll call you." Arden hopped up and left.
Emma stared after her.
Travis lay on his bed tossing a football up in the air and catching it. Emily was asleep in the bassinet by his bed. He was listening to The Dance by Garth Brooks on repeat. He wasn't depressed. But it was a down day. He seemed to have as many down days as up days. On down days he stared at the baby as much as possible and reminded himself how much she needed him. It made him feel good to have that responsibility.
He heard the front door open and close. Dustin came in and leaned in his doorway. "Travis, I have a question," he said.
"What?" Travis asked, monotone, tossing the football up again.
"Are you a sixteen year old girl?"
"Nope," Travis said, catching the ball.
"Then why don't you start acting like a man." He stomped over to the cd player and banged it with his fist. The track skipped to Friends in Low Places.
Travis jumped up and changed it back. "You're gonna wake her up, dammit," he said. He glanced at Emily. She stirred slightly and made a face like she might cry. But then the song started up again and the expression faded. "She likes this song," Travis whispered.
"Yeah. Whatever. If you're gonna go, then go."
Travis had been waiting for Dustin to get home so he could go visit Duane. He had been putting it off and now it was time to talk to him before they transferred him to Jefferson City.
Travis grabbed the keys to the pickup truck he'd been driving for a couple of weeks now. Dustin took his place on his bed and began tossing the football up and down. Travis smiled. "So that's what I look like."
"Yep. Ain't pretty, is it?"
Travis shook his head. "I guess we'd better either get our girls back or move on."
Dustin didn't answer.
"I'll be back in a while."
Travis drove through town to the courthouse. He hopped out of the truck and walked inside, not pausing to think. He had no idea what he was going to say, if anything. He just knew he needed to see his brother before he lost his nerve.
Travis knocked on the Sheriff's office door and went in without waiting for an answer.
"Hey, Wade," he said.
Wade looked up from his desk in surprise. "Travis. You come to see Duane?"
Travis nodded. Wade stood and ushered him to a small room with a table and chairs. Travis sat and waited for Duane to be brought in. Wade led him in a few moments later. He was in cuffs, which Travis thought was unnecessary. But he didn't say anything. Duane's hair looked longer than he remembered. It was filthy, too. The kid was painfully thin. But most surprising of all, he no longer wore that stone-cold killer expression Travis had become so familiar with. He looked...miserable.
He sat across from Travis and stared down at his hands on the table.
Travis leaned back and watched him for a few moments. He still didn't know what to say. "I tried to get them to drop the charges," he said.
Duane looked up at him. "What?" he asked.
"Six years," Travis said. "It'll change you. If you need anything while you're in there, just let me know. I mean, money...whatever. And if you want me to visit once a month or whatever, just say so."