Breaking Emily's Rules. Heatherly Bell
tree, she seemed to believe she was the Grand Pooh-Bah of their little club. Emily didn’t dare disagree, and probably no one else would, either.
“Yes, please, Julia. Get us back on track. Where were we when we left off?” Grammy opened the notebook she used to take notes.
Grammy’s official parchment family tree was probably still under lock and key. It wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon, not when the ladies were drinking. Grammy guarded the document like it was the US Constitution.
“I’m still trying to find out about my Uncle Bob, the one who owned the barbershop back in Maine. I can’t find a certificate of death anywhere,” Luanne said.
“We’ll get to that,” Julia said with authority. “But you won’t believe this. Remember how Emily hasn’t been able to find out much about her namesake, the first Emily Parker?”
“I can’t find her on any census records except for the one in nineteen hundred, and by then, she had married.” Emily had tried to find out the name of her great-grandmother’s parents, but time after time reached nothing but a dead end.
“We know she had a son, Lonnie, and then she died shortly thereafter. Her husband remarried and they had six more children,” Grammy added.
“It’s like any record of her before her marriage doesn’t exist. Where did she come from? Who were her parents?” It bothered Emily to think that a two-year-old had been left motherless, but what bothered her most was it seemed no one would ever remember the first Emily Parker.
Julia smiled and peered over her bifocals. “I’ve got good news.”
Emily’s heart did a little squeeze, and her fingers froze on the keyboard. News for her? “What did you find?”
“You won’t believe it.” Julia looked through the binder she carried with her everywhere—the Bible, she called it.
“Don’t keep us in suspense!” Grammy said.
Julia pulled out a piece of paper she’d covered with a plastic sheath.
She did that with all official documents. Emily stopped breathing.
“Now it wasn’t easy to find this, but you all know how I have connections now.” Julia probably wouldn’t spill the beans this century.
“Yes, yes we know!” Luanne leaned forward, like she might reach across the table and rip it out of Julia’s hands.
“This little piece of paper is a private pilot’s license,” Julia said, her chin rising slightly as she placed it on the table for all to see. “For an Emily Parker.”
“Let me see that,” Grammy reached for it, only to earn a glare from Julia.
“Careful.” Julia slid it over to Grammy.
Emily watched, not moving, as Grammy read it over. “My goodness. How about that.” She handed the document to Emily.
It really was the official pilot’s license of an Emily Parker. Frayed around the ages, yellowed and worn. “This is my relative?”
“It is,” Julia said with authority. “Same date of birth, as you can see. She was only twenty-one at that time.”
“And she would have died only three years later,” Grammy added.
“Imagine that. A pilot. Isn’t that the funniest thing you ever heard?” Marjory elbowed Emily.
“Funny?” Emily put down the paper. It was a connection all right, to a woman who sounded as different from her as any two women could be. Emily had never done anything even remotely that adventurous. The first Emily Parker sounded like a maverick. A rebel.
“You have to admit it. This Emily Parker sounds like she was a risk taker, maybe a bit of an eccentric.” Grammy leaned over Emily’s shoulder now.
“It’s true,” Julia said. “At that time, there weren’t many women pilots. Amelia Earhart comes to mind, but that was much later. And that’s about it.”
“A woman at that time, flying a plane. That’s dangerous. Irresponsible. What if she had crashed and left her children behind?” A second after the statement, Marjory clapped her hand over her mouth.
They were all aware this Emily had died of consumption and left a young son behind. But at least she’d lived her life fully before dying. Something the new Emily wasn’t sure she could say about herself. Then again, hadn’t she decided she would change some things?
“It’s true. I’ve always played it safe,” Emily said to the license. Maybe that was what Greg had been all about. Greg and his 401K, sensible shoes and plans for a rock-solid future. A future that would have included their 2.5 children. She could have never guessed that he, of all people, would humiliate her the way he had.
“I wouldn’t call it playing it safe, dear. I’d call it being practical. You’re by far the most dependable girl I know.” Grammy patted Emily’s shoulder. “Why, I’d trust you with anything.”
“Which is why she’d make a good doctor’s wife,” Luanne said with a nod.
“Why does everyone want to marry me off?” Emily’s voice rose. “Maybe I don’t want to get married anymore. Ever.”
“Don’t say such a thing,” Marjory grimaced and then waved her arms in the air. “Cancel that, cancel that.”
Marjory believed every word spoken had power, and that if one waved their arms around like they were shooing away a bug, the Universe might forgive it. Wipe it away, so to speak.
“Don’t cancel it.” Emily waved her arms around in the other direction. “What if I mean it?”
“Hear that, Universe? She said if.” Marjory cast her eyes heavenward. “She’s not thinking this through.”
Emily stood. “I’ll tell you what I want. I want you all to stop thinking about me as good ol’ dependable and steady Emily. I’m not a vacuum cleaner. I’m ready to be a wild woman now. Take a risk.” There. She’d said it out loud. It didn’t sound as crazy as she thought it might.
“Oh, Julia, look what you’ve done,” Luanne shook her finger.
The Daughter of the American Revolution stood up now, hands on her waist. “I’m merely a conduit to the past. We all have our path to take. I’m happy if this leads to personal insight.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with being sensible,” Grammy said, practically wringing her hands.
“Nothing wrong at all,” Luanne agreed.
“Did I say there was anything wrong with it? It’s just that maybe, for the first time in my life, I want to do something crazy. Something none of you would expect of me.” Emily crossed her arms.
From now on, she was going to do what she wanted, when she wanted, like Molly. No more Little Miss Perfect.
She’d show her family. She’d show everyone she could, at a moment’s notice, if the mood so struck her, be a wild woman.
“LET ME GET this straight. Your great-grandmother, your namesake, was a pilot.” Emily’s oldest friend, Rachel Harwood, leaned across the booth and touched the official pilot’s license, still wrapped in the plastic Julia had put it in.
Emily was still a bit surprised she’d been able to wrestle it out of Julia’s hands. “What do you think? Are you going to laugh, too?’
“Laugh? Why would I do that?” Rachel stirred her coffee. “Please. Let me just have a nice whiff of your leaded coffee. This decaf is killing me.”
Emily pushed her mug over and let Rachel take a nice long sniff. She obviously wanted Emily to feel sorry about the awful caffeine