The Finding Emma Collection (Books 1-5)

by Steena Holmes

  I’m not willing to let go. Not yet.

  I love you Jack Henry.

  Thirteen

  Dear Jack.

  Happy birthday!

  I know it doesn’t matter any more, but Mary and I have been planning what we would do to celebrate your birthday since last year and it was too hard to just sit at home and pretend this day never existed.

  First thing first. We made you your favorite cake and pie. Actually, if truth be told, Mary made the cake and I made the pie. German chocolate cake, along with a side of dutch apple pie with a bit of caramel. We left the cake and pie to cool on the counter and took off.

  One of Mary’s best memories of you is how you would take us on adventures every Sunday. It’s not something I’ve kept up but I’ll try to. Maybe not every weekend, but at least once a month. I let Mary choose all the turns and we ended up down a little side road west of Kinrich. We followed the trail as far as we could go and then climbed down. We found a quaint little private beach with no houses in sight.

  It’s really a beautiful place, Jack. You would have liked it. Even Mary said so. We haven’t said goodbye to you officially yet, and I’m not sure if we will. I’m not sure I ever can. I still stare down the road, waiting for the gust of dirt to billow behind a vehicle that I’m sure is bringing you home to me. Even though it’s never you, I keep praying that one day it will be.

  Mary and I dug our feet into the sand and relaxed. It was nice. She chattered away, telling me stories, asking me questions...I kept picturing you there with us, the smile on your face as you listened to her talk. We stayed there for about an hour. At one point, Mary fell asleep on the beach so I went and stood in the water, the stones beneath my feet, and I thought about you.

  That was one of Mary’s questions — if you were at the other end of the water. I told her you were, somewhere. She wanted to put a message in a bottle for you, something Doug had told her about, but I told her it wasn’t that kind of water. We needed to go to the ocean to do that, but that you would never find the bottle since you had died over there. She said that was okay, that maybe someone who knew you would find the bottle and put it on your grave.

  Jack, that girl of ours surprises me all the time. I can’t wait to see what kind of woman she grows up to be. I imagine she’ll be very compassionate but strong in character. I can see how her teenage years might be a bit trying, but hopefully she’ll be more like me and less like you in that regard.

  I wish you were here to watch her grow. She needs you. I’m thankful for Doug and for the stability he brings to Mary. But he’s not you. He’ll never be you.

  Your cake was delicious by-the-way. So was the pie. Best one I’ve made yet.

  Happy birthday husband.

  Fourteen

  Dear Jack.

  I remember once saying I was never going to say goodbye to you.

  I was wrong. A wise man told me that.

  You.

  Doug pulled up today in his truck and hauled out a maple tree. The roots in it were good, strong. It’ll be a sturdy tree, able to withstand anything nature throws at it.

  I didn’t understand why he brought the tree until he handed me your letter.

  Jack...I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to know you wrote me a letter telling me

  how to say goodbye to you. The fact that you knew I would need this letter tells me that you knew you might have to break your promise to me. I slapped Doug when he first handed me the letter. It’s a natural reaction. It’s been almost eight months since I was first told you were missing, five months since he told me of the promise he made to you.

  I was angry with him for keeping this letter from me, but after reading it, I understood. You both know me better than I know myself.

  I love you Jack Douglas Henry. I have always loved you. Even when you made me mad. I will always love you. Even when the thought of saying goodbye to you means losing a part of myself, forever.

  I know you’ve asked me to stop waiting. To stop placing my life on hold. I know you want me to think about Mary and what is best for her. I know you don’t want me to think that I have to do it all myself.

  I know what you want. And I know you think you know what’s best for me. But Jack, I’ve changed. These two years have altered who I am at the core, more than I think we thought possible. I can almost hear you telling me how proud of me you are. I’m proud of myself too.

  One of the things you wished for in your letter was to know that Mary and I had a strong relationship. We do. You can rest easy on that if it’s still bothering you. She is a beautiful little girl and I love her. She’ll always be daddy’s little girl, but I can’t wait for her to be an adult and for us to be close. You hear about those mothers who say their daughter is their best friend — that’s what I want with Mary.

  We’ll plant your tree. And we’ll plant it exactly where you wanted it to grow. And yes, I’ll give myself permission to say goodbye. Because you asked. Because you know me better than I know myself and you knew I would need your permission, your approval to say goodbye.

  I love you Jack. I always will.

  Fifteen

  Jack,

  It’s time for me to put away this journal. It’s been a little bit since I last wrote in here — there wasn’t much to write after I said goodbye to you. I have a new journal now that I write in, one that Doug gave me for my birthday.

  Doug — let’s talk about him, shall we?

  He’s sitting in your old chair right now. It’s a gorgeous Sunday evening. The leaves are all turning color, creating a bouquet of happiness as you once told me. I used to complain that fall meant an end to everything I loved, but you would correct me and say it was the beginning for creating new memories.

  In your letter to me, you told me that death isn’t the end of a journey, it’s just the crossroads for new decisions. I’d prefer not to deal with death, but if I must, since I must — I can only pray that the decisions I make are worthwhile.

  Mary has accepted your best friend as part of our family now. He’s a constant fixture. He still goes out and helps neighbours before work, but he comes here afterwards. He says it’s for the home cooked meals, but you and I both know it’s more. It’s about a promise.

  Doug asked me to marry him. Again.

  I haven’t said yes, yet. But I will. Tonight, after I’m finished writing this. I know you’ll never read the words, I know that you are gone from my life forever, but you were my best friend, my lover, my husband. You are the first one who deserves to know this — more than anyone else.

  I’ve had to think about why I’m going to say yes. I know why you want me to, but Jack, no matter what you’ve said, no matter what promises were made, ultimately, you’re not God and it’s not okay for you to expect things to happen the way you want them to.

  I’m not saying yes for you.

  I’m saying yes for Mary. If I say no, I can’t expect him to keep hanging around and taking care of us like he is. And Mary needs him in her life. She needs a father figure to love her and be there for her. I can’t take that away from her.

  I’m also saying yes for Doug. I know he loves me, but he loves you more. This was the last thing you asked of him and who am I to take that away from him? He feels like he’s failed you when it’s actually the opposite.

  I’m also going to say yes for me. I don’t like being alone. I don’t like having to rely on myself so much. And I’d miss him if he wasn’t here. I’ve grown to really care for him, even though I didn’t want to.

  I hope you will be happy for us Jack. I hope that you’re looking down on us with a smile on your face, knowing that the people you loved the most are going to be taking care of each other.

  I hope I’ve made the right decision.

  There’s a cloud of dust on the horizon. It’s been growing as I’ve sat here, writing you. Do you remember when I told you that I’ll watch for you? When I said that every time a car drove down our road, I prayed it was you? I still do that.
I catch myself holding my breath until the vehicle can be seen. There’s always a little seed of disappointment, even today, when I see it’s Doug’s vehicle or when it’s someone else and they pass our house.

  I keep thinking that one day it will be you. I know that’ll never happen, not anymore, but old habits die hard.

  It’s time to say goodbye. I love you Jack. I will always love you. I promise to make sure that you will always be remembered. Mary will always bake you a cake for your birthday. I’ll always tell her stories from when she was smaller and you were here at home. Doug will tell her stories about you as a kid. We won’t forget you Jack. We’ll never forget you.

  Thank you, husband, for looking out for me. Thank you for doing your best to keep your promise to me even when you knew it wasn’t possible. I have to believe that when you died, you thought of me, of us, of our lives together. I have to think that you said I love you as you breathed your last breath.

  Calling you husband has been the greatest privilege of my life. I want you to know that. I will always cherish that. I will always be Dottie-mine.

  The vehicle has pulled into the driveway now. It’s hard to make it out, but I don’t recognize the car and neither does Doug. There’s someone in the passenger seat wearing a uniform. Maybe it’s Jonathan. I sent him a letter a little while ago thanking him for bringing your letters home and invited him to come visit. He seemed like a sweet kid, I can see why you took such a liking to him and took him under your wing. You had a good heart Jack Henry.

  Doug has gone down to meet whoever is in the vehicle. He’s aged. This war has been hard on him, even though he stayed behind. I hope that he’ll slow down, find others to help take care of the farms in his place. He works too hard. Cares too much. Holds too much responsibility on his shoulders. You’d be proud of him.

  He’s a good man and I’ll be happy with him. But then, you all ready knew that, didn’t you? When he comes back to the porch, I think I’ll hand him this journal and ask him to read this last page. He needs to know everything that is in my heart. He needs to know that you’ll always be first and foremost, but that he’ll have a place there too, beside you. I’m a lucky woman to be loved by two men such as you both.

  You know, it’s odd...but the man Doug is hugging looks an awful lot like you. It must be because of this letter. Because I’m thinking of you. Except, there’s a look on Doug’s face now that he’s looking at me, as he holds on to the man’s arm.

  Jack...is that you? My hands are shaking. No one is moving. I can hardly breathe. Is that you? Jack...

  THE END

  DID YOU KNOW…

  Thank you for reading Dear Jack...a Finding Emma novella.

  Dottie is a lady with a tremendous amount of strength and I hope that this little insight helped for you to understand her a little better. These letters were only a portion of one of Dottie’s Diaries and that last entry was the last entry for this particular journal.

  DOTTIE is a character that I based a portion of her personality on my own grandmother. How much she loved to bake, the love she had for her husband, her children, how strong she was as a person.

  EMMA’S SECRET

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from

  the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2013 Steena Holmes Printed in the United States of America.

  Published by Amazon Publishing P.O. Box 400818, Las Vegas, NV 89140 ISBN-13: 9781477800669 ISBN-10: 1477800662

  LCCN: 2013914371

  “Excerpts from FINDING EMMA and EMMA’S SECRET, reprinted under a license arrangement originating with Amazon Publishing, www.apub.com”

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  For two years, Megan, Peter, and their two older daughters, Alexis and Hannah, dream of nothing but being reunited with the family’s youngest child, Emma, who was kidnapped just before her third birthday. When Emma is miraculously found living with an elderly couple just miles from the family’s home, they are hopeful that her return will heal the wounds her disappearance created.

  But Emma is vastly different from the sunny toddler they remember. She barely remembers her parents or her older sisters. She is quiet and withdrawn, and, worst of all, longs for the very people who kidnapped her.

  Megan is consumed with bitterness, while Peter works later and later nights in the company of his gorgeous business partner. And in the middle of everything, Megan’s best friend has become suddenly distant and secretive.

  Then a chance encounter in town leads to a secret that changes everything again for Emma. And Peter must decide between the happiness of his youngest daughter and the trust of his family.

  INCLUDED ARE THE FIRST 5 CHAPTERS.

  WANT TO READ THE WHOLE NOVEL? DOWNLOAD THE REST OF THE BOOK AND START READING…CLICK HERE

  WHY I WROTE EMMA’S SECRET

  I wrote EMMA’S SECRET mainly for my readers. They wanted to know more about Jack. More about Emma. More about what happened.

  How could I say no?

  Just like with FINDING EMMA, there is so much about this book that is personal. The town is based on where I grew up (just with a different name). The donut shop is one I worked in as a teenager. Jack’s friends are based on a few of my uncles.

  I hope you enjoy these first 5 chapters of the novel. Thank you to my publisher who allowed me to add these five chapters for you!

  If this is the first time you’re reading EMMA’S SECRET…enjoy!

  I hope that knowing more about Jack and his relationship with his Emmie is exactly what you were wanting!

  TURN THE PAGE TO START READING…

  This book is dedicated to all those who fell in love with Emma and wanted to know more. Without you, there would be no story.

  One

  June 20

  I found her.

  I was driving in a neighborhood that I’d never visited before. I had been headed somewhere else, but now I can’t remember where. I’m not even sure how I got to be in that part of Kinrich—I rarely go there anymore unless it’s to my special spot on the lake. Jack thinks I was there for groceries, but I prefer going to Hanton for my shopping, even though it is farther away.

  Call it fate or divine intervention or just a deep awareness. If my mother were here, she’d say it was God’s angels directing me, but God turned His back on me a long time ago. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, it was destined that I was to be there, at that time and place, for a specific reason.

  My poor little girl was wandering all alone. I don’t know how she got to be so far from home or why she was alone, but I’m so glad I saw her as I drove by.

  My sweet little Mary has come home!

  No, not Mary. Her daughter. My second chance.

  Such a brave little girl to be out by herself. She kept telling me that she wasn’t alone, that her small stuffed lion was watching over her.

  As I buckled her into the backseat, she introduced me to her little toy, which she called Tiger. What a sweet little girl.

  She didn’t talk much; only cried a little before she fell asleep. The poor thing must have been exhausted.

  Jack was confused when I brought her home. She looked so much like Mary, almost her twin. Of course, we never knew Mary had a daughter; why would she tell us? Or rather, why would she tell me? But I can’t believe she’d let her little girl be out on the streets by herself. Jack wanted to call Mary, to find out why she never told us about her daughter, but I stopped him.

  No. She’s now our little girl. Our
second chance. God knew that she needed to be loved and that we were the perfect people. This is our gift.

  She is our precious little Emmie.

  Megan burrowed deeper under the covers, arms tucked tightly to her chest. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Not yet. The desire to hold on to her dream a little longer was too strong.

  Instead of another nightmare of Emma disappearing, last night’s dream was as if her little girl had never been kidnapped. They’d gone for a picnic as a family; there was a cabin in the back- ground and a field of flowers with butterflies flitting about. Emma was running among the flowers, her laughter filling the air as she and the butterflies danced. Peter sat beside her on the bright red blanket—funny that she remembered its vibrant color.

  Megan smiled to herself. She’d been so happy in her dream. Peter was with her, and Alexis and Hannah played off to the side.

  But the part that held her eyes closed was the heavy feel in her arms and the soft cooing of a baby. Megan couldn’t see the baby’s face and didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, but she knew the child was hers.

  Once upon a time, they’d been a happy family, and if Emma hadn’t gone missing, maybe things would have turned out differently. The sound of Emma’s laughter still rang in her ears. Such a beautiful sound. One she no longer heard very often.

  Megan rolled over and patted the sheets but found them empty. Again. Lately, Peter had been leaving earlier than normal, not even waking her up for her run. She splayed her fingers across the sheets and realized he must have woken up some time ago; his usual spot was cool.