19
A yellow kayak. August 1971
Caroline wasted little time to analyze and interpret her friend’s demeanor the moment they sat down at their usual table. She sensed the change. Her face was drawn as she took Emilee’s hands.
“I thought you were done with the Irishman.”
A soft rose crept into Emilee’s face. She explained how she had avoided him for six full weeks, how she had refused to see him or meet with him. His red roses had ended up in the garbage and his letters remained unopened. She knew he was bad news—a bad apple, according to her friend.
“I met with him for the first time again last Sunday, but for several hours.” She paused and glanced at her friend. “We talked a lot. I insisted that he keep no secrets from me.” She leaned forward. “Did you know, Carrie, he’s from an abusive
