Hummingbird Lane by Brown, Carolyn (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📗

here all these weeks and you don’t even know her name?” Sophie said impatiently. She had to get Emma out of this place in a hurry. If Victoria walked through the doors or by chance happened to call, all hell would break loose.

“Don’t remember ever seeing her out of her room,” the woman shot back as she hit a few keys. “You only have one week left in the program. Are you sure you want to leave? There will be no reimbursement of funds.”

Nancy came from a room, noticed Emma, and ran all the way up the hallway. “Emma, what are you doing? I have strict orders to call your mother if you decide to check yourself out,” she said between bouts of catching her breath.

“Nancy, I’d like to introduce you to Sophie,” Emma said in a very formal tone. “This is my friend, and I’m leaving with her. We plan to spend a few weeks in southern Texas. Do you think I might see a purple lizard?”

Nancy gave a brief nod toward Sophie. “We met earlier.”

“Does she need to sign something?” Sophie asked.

“Just one paper,” Nancy answered. She nodded to the lady behind the computer and said, “Print it out.” Then she turned back to Emma. “And I’m very busy right now, so it might be a couple of hours before I have time to call your mother. I hope you find many happy places where you are going, Emma.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emma nodded and signed the paper that the receptionist put in front of her.

“Take good care of her,” Nancy whispered to Sophie. “If anyone can help her, it just might be you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sophie said. “Will you get in trouble for this?”

“Not at all. Emma checked herself into our facility. She has always been free to check herself right back out. She’s an adult.” Nancy smiled.

“Thank you,” Sophie told her.

Emma turned around. She wasn’t smiling yet, but her eyes looked a little less dead when she said, “I’m ready, Sophie. Let’s go find that crazy hippie lizard.”

Chapter Two

I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” Sophie said when they were underway. “I tried to call, but Victoria told me in no uncertain terms that I was never talking to you. The second time I tried, the phone number had been changed.”

“Mother is the boss. And I wasn’t there for you, either. I haven’t been to one of your shows . . .” Emma looked out the side window. “But I don’t do well in crowds or around men. Are there guys where we are going?”

“Ye-es.” Sophie heard the anxiety in her friend’s voice and wondered if maybe she had made a big mistake in taking her away from people who were trying to help her. She reached across the console and laid a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Arty is past seventy and does metal art. He used to make the big stuff out of junked cars, but now that he’s older, he works on smaller projects.”

“Is he a big man?” Emma wrung her hands. “Maybe you better take me back to the center. I don’t want to be a bother.”

I will not give up, not after what Nancy said as we were leaving. I might be Emma’s last hope of getting well, Sophie thought.

“Arty isn’t much taller than me, if that. He’s a short, round guy who wears bibbed overalls. He’s bald headed and reminds me of Ralph, the old gardener at your folks’ place when we were kids,” she said.

“I liked Ralph.” Emma stopped twisting her hands.

“Me too,” Sophie said as she drove south and caught Highway 20 going west. “And then there’s Josh.”

The hand-wringing started again. “Is he a big guy?”

Evidently just thinking about those kinds of guys made Emma very nervous. No wonder there was that sign on her door. Something had happened to her that involved a big man. That much Sophie was sure of. Thank God Josh and Arty were not imposing guys.

“Remember Marty Stephens from elementary school?” Sophie asked.

Emma drew her brows down in a frown and finally nodded. “He wasn’t even as tall as we were, and he had trouble learning.”

“Josh is kind of like that, maybe five feet three inches tall, only he’s brilliant. He’ll be our landlord—he owns the park. Arty told me he has the IQ of a genius, but he’s really shy and kind of keeps to himself. Don’t let that fool you, though—he’s so kind. He’s an artist, too. He works with pencil and ink instead of paints, though, and sells his stuff at the gift shops in that area. He’s never made it big, but he doesn’t care, because he hates crowds. I wanted to set him up with a gallery showing, but he told me that money wasn’t all that important to him, either. He’s got family money, so he doesn’t depend on his art for his income.”

“Marty was awkward, too. I felt sorry for him,” Emma said. “The kids picked on him something awful.”

“Until I knocked a couple of them on their butts.” Sophie laughed.

Emma didn’t laugh with her, but at least her hands went still. Sophie remembered that Emma had been so excited about her art classes and her freedom that first semester of college. Those were the days when she was still hoping to be a famous artist someday, and Sophie had had no doubt that she would be. She had the money from her parents to back her until she got a start, whereas Sophie had had to work anywhere from two to four jobs to support herself until she finally sold a couple of paintings.

“I was so focused on getting you out of that place that I didn’t think to ask if you are on medicine that we needed to pick up at the desk or get refilled,” Sophie said.

“The whole reason for me going to the center was so I could get off my pills and only take supplements. Mother is on a healthy kick these