The Problem with Emerson

09 | The Problem with Goodbye

THE PROBLEM WITH GOODBYE was that sometimes, you don't know it's goodbye until it's too late. And maybe knowing wouldn't have changed the course of events, but that's something you'll never know.

Although Brie knew that her tract record for decisions had been subpar at best, she thought that this one was at least mediocre.

The great Ian Reynolds, Brie's paternal grandfather, had succumbed to his sickness in the middle of the night, and today was his funeral. Despite the fact that Brie had never met her grandfather (or anyone in Christopher's family besides his witch of a wife), she figured that paying her respects was the socially agreed upon thing to do.

Except she had only just found out, and the funeral was long over by now. Which is how she wound up driving up to the gate of her father's neighbourhood, hoping to be let inside.

"You've got wheels this time," the gate attendant remarked.

It was the same attendant as the last time she had been there, and although she was momentarily shocked that he remembered her, she went with it. Easier than she thought it would be. She figured she would've had to talk her way inside.

Brie tapped the steering wheel of her mom's car.  "Yup," she replied.  "Can you, uh, let me in?"

With a smile, he reached over and pressed the control, the arm elevating so that she could drive through.

Stork's Landing hadn't changed much, other than the blanket of snow covering all the perfectly manicured lawns.  The driveways were clear and dry, a sign that most every house had splurged on a heated driveway. Brie was only slightly jealous.

As she parked her mother's car at the bottom of the Reynoldses' driveway, she braced herself for her father's reaction. He wasn't aware that she was coming, so she didn't exactly expect him to throw a welcome party, especially because he was presumably grieving the death of his father.

But she also didn't expect it to go horribly wrong.

She rang the doorbell, the chime echoing throughout the massive house. She shifted in her boots, shivering as the wind picked up and blew cold air down the back of her coat.

The door eventually swung open and Christopher stood in the threshold, warmth seeping out of the house behind him.  He was dressed in all black, clearly just returned from his father's funeral.  He didn't look happy to see her — not at all.

"What are you doing here, Brianna?" he asked.

Instead of inviting her inside, he stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.  As he did so, he cast a worried glance inside the house.

"I just heard about your father's funeral," she said.  "I would've come if I had known."

"It was a private affair."

The flowers in Brie's hands suddenly felt like the stems were riddled with thorns, slicing her fingers.  Everything stung.

Suddenly, she knew.  Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew that her father had never had the guts to tell his family about her.  She was a mistake from his youth that he was doing everything to keep buried, even from his family.

She had always been suspicious, especially because she had never met Rosemary and Ian.  But the way he was acting gave her the confirmation she needed.

"She doesn't know about me, does she?" Brie accused.  "You never told your mother about your bastard child."

Tuition money be damned, Brie was done being treated like she meant nothing to him.  She did mean nothing to him.  If she had meant anything, he wouldn't have to hide her from his mother, who was probably inside the house right then and could easily catch them.