While watching the Emmy's I typed up more of my story... that was good home work break.
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| Found at "Will Type For Food" |
That night at dinner Emmy sat next to Brandon.
“Your
sister, Mr. James tells me you are the British Ambassador’s right hand man.”
“I don’t
know if I would say that.”
“Didn’t you
just return from a trip from England with him where you met the Prime
Minister?”
“I did.”
“Well I
would say you are quite important then.”
“You are
kind Miss Cromwell.”
Emmy
laughed, no one ever called her Miss Cromwell, no one called her Miss anything
she was just Emmy. But she could see laughter was not the right thing to do by
the way he looked.
“I am sorry
Mr. James, I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at being called Miss
Cromwell that title belongs to my sister. I am just Emmy.”
“How old
are you?”
“Sixteen?”
“It is not
right to call a lady by just her first name.”
“But
everyone does. Everyone calls me Emmy minus Miss Pembers; though my real name
is Emmaline.”
“That is an
interesting name.”
“What you
mean is odd.”
Brandon saw
her sulk a bit. “No I mean not common but beautiful.”
“It was my
father’s mother’s name, I was born a month after she passed away. But everyone
calls me Emmy. I am not graceful enough to have such a name as Emmaline.”
“Why do you
say that?”
“My Grandma
Danford tells me.”
“Well I
don’t want to dispute your Grandma but I disagree.”
Emmy
smiled.
Then it
struck Brandon how much this young girl looked like Martha, his love from
Oxford. Their faces could almost be identical with the same almond shape eyes
and sweet smile that made her nose crinkle. Before he could speak again her
sister Gloria had grabbed her attention. He overheard them talking and heard
them talking about the piano.
“Oh do you
play, Miss Emmy?”
“Hardly,
Gloria and I were discussing how she and Laurel should put on a show for you
and Miss James. They have the beauty and musical skills of the family. I can
barely play hot cross buns.”
“You don’t find
music amusing then?”
“To listen
to yes but I cannot play music, even though to appease my Grandma I practice. I
have neither the ear not the talent.”
“Well then
how do you delight your time?”
“With
stories. I love to write stories, one day I hope to be published,” she saw his
little smile “I know it’s silly,” she said lowering her head.
“Not at
all,” he saw like she had before. “What do you write about?”
“Adventure,
passion, knights fighting for the girl he loves, princes in Africa. Everything
my life is not.”
“What do
you mean?”
“I have not
lived any but this house and this town of Pine Haven. Not very adventurous and
my Grandma Danford tries to stifle out all passion.”
“Maybe one
day you will see the world.”
“Maybe, but
it’s unlikely.”
“Really?”
