Chapter 51 Running Toward Something
Olivia: POV
The morning we brought Emma home from the hospital, I was a nervous wreck. Mike and I had spent the previous day frantically preparing our story—Emma had been working at a diner across town and was finally ready to come home. No mention of kidnapping, hospitals, or Jenkins.
"Remember," I reminded Mike as we drove to pick up Emma, "Mom and Dad think she's been working at that diner this whole time and living in some crappy apartment. They have no idea about any of the other stuff."
"Got it," Mike replied, adjusting his rearview mirror. "Though I still think we should tell them something."
"Dad's blood pressure can't handle it," I insisted. "And Mom would never let Emma out of her sight again."
When we pulled into the driveway with Emma in the backseat, I could see Mom's face appear in the living room window. Her expression went from curious to shocked to overjoyed in about two seconds flat.
The front door flew open before we'd even gotten out of the car.
"Emma?!" Mom practically shrieked, rushing down the front steps. "You're home! You're actually home!"
Dad appeared behind her, his newspaper still in his hand, looking completely stunned. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, then quickly caught himself and cleared his throat.
Emma climbed out of the car slowly, still a bit stiff from her ordeal, though she looked completely normal now. She'd insisted on wearing her own clothes: ripped jeans and a faded band t-shirt.
"Hey, Mom," Emma said. She actually smiled as Mom engulfed her in a crushing hug.
"I can't believe you're here," Mom sobbed into Emma's shoulder. "When you called yesterday and said you wanted to come home, I thought I was dreaming."
Dad approached more cautiously, like he was afraid Emma might bolt if he moved too fast. "Welcome home, kiddo," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.
"Hi, Dad," Emma replied, surprising everyone by giving him a genuine hug.
As we moved inside, Mom couldn't stop touching Emma—smoothing her hair, squeezing her hand, as if she needed physical proof that her daughter was really there.
"I made your favorite pancakes," Mom said, practically vibrating with excitement. "And I got those strawberries you like. Oh, and I cleaned your room, but I didn't throw anything away, I promise."
"Mom, breathe," Emma said, but she was still smiling. "I'm not going anywhere."
Dad settled into his chair, still looking dazed. "So this diner job... it's over now?"
Emma nodded, accepting the orange juice Mom thrust into her hands. "Yeah, it was always supposed to be temporary. Just needed some time to figure things out."
"And have you?" Mom asked anxiously. "Figured things out?"
Emma took a long sip before answering. "Actually, yeah. Which is why I wanted to talk to you all together."
Something in her tone made me tense.
"I've made a decision," Emma continued, sitting up straighter. "I'm joining the Army."
The kitchen went dead silent. Mom's hand froze halfway to her coffee cup. Dad's newspaper slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.
"You're... what?" Mom finally whispered.
"Joining the Army," Emma repeated, her voice steady and determined. "I've already looked into it. There's a recruitment office downtown. I'm going next week to start the paperwork."
Dad recovered first, leaning forward in his chair. "Emma, that's... that's a big decision, honey. The military is serious business."
"I know," she replied, meeting his gaze directly. "That's exactly why I'm doing it. I need structure. I need discipline. I need to be part of something that actually matters. A complete reset." She paused, her expression more serious than I'd ever seen it. "After I completely reshape my character, then I plan to go get my degree."
I found myself staring at my sister in amazement. This was the most self-aware, mature thing I'd ever heard come out of her mouth.
"But the military..." Mom's voice cracked. "It's dangerous. And they'll yell at you and make you do push-ups in the mud. You'll have to follow orders without question."
Emma's old smirk made a brief appearance. "Sounds like exactly what I need, don't you think?"
"She's not wrong," I admitted, surprising even myself. "Emma's stubborn as hell—the military might actually whip her into shape."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Emma said, shooting me a look that held more gratitude than sarcasm.
Dad folded his hands, his business mind clearly working through the implications. "You've obviously thought this through. What's your long-term plan?"
"Intelligence or communications specialty after basic," Emma replied immediately. "Use the GI Bill for a degree that actually means something. Maybe work toward becoming an officer eventually."
I was genuinely impressed. She really had done her homework.
Mom still looked stricken. "But you'd be gone for months... years. And they could deploy you anywhere."
"Most likely stateside for training and first assignment," Emma said gently. "And honestly, Mom, it's not like I've been super present even when I've been physically here."
The raw honesty in that statement hung in the air.
"I just..." Mom's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want you to suffer more than you already have."
Emma's expression softened completely. "I know, Mom. But sometimes we need to go through hard things to become who we're supposed to be." She glanced at me briefly. "I've been running away from everything my whole life. I want to start running toward something instead."
Dad reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I'm proud of you, Emma. This won't be easy, but I believe in you."
"You'll write?" Mom asked in a small voice.
"Every week," Emma promised. "And they do have phones in the Army, Mom. It's not World War II."
Mom laughed through her tears, and just like that, the tension broke.