Peter nudged Hannah again with his foot. “Hannah’s a great big sister.” A sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled in his heart as Hannah flushed with pleasure.
If he could freeze time, it would be this exact moment, with his children happy and himself at peace. The only thing missing was Megan.
“When’s Mommy gonna be home?” Emma asked, almost as if she knew what he was thinking and missed her too.
“Never. She ran away,” Alexis pouted. Emma’s eyes widened in fear, and Peter gave Alexis a stern look.
“She didn’t run away,” he said soothingly to Emma. “She went out.” He focused on Alexis and waited for her to look up. “Why would you say something like that?”
Alexis shook her head. “’Cause she always goes out at night without us.”
Peter sighed. “That’s not true. Your mother rarely goes out anymore and when she does, it’s usually grocery shopping. You know that.”
Alexis grunted. “She just doesn’t want to spend time with us.”
“What?” Was he missing something? Megan loved being home with the kids. School was out, her Safe Walks program was on break, the kids weren’t in sports, and she was excited to have the summer to reconnect with Emma. So why did it bother them so much that she was gone now?
“We never spend time as a family anymore.” Alexis raised her face and stared defiantly into his eyes.
Peter shook his head. That didn’t make sense. “We’re spending family time now.”
“No, we’re not. Mommy’s not here.”
Peter cocked his head and looked at his daughters. This had really upset them. Emma buried her head back into her drawing; she wouldn’t look up. Alexis’s shoulders were pushed back and her chin up high. This was his fighter. But there was nothing to challenge, nothing to fight over. The look in Hannah’s eyes was sad, downcast, and defeated.
Did they honestly think that Megan didn’t want to spend time with them? That she couldn’t wait to go out in the evenings? He could count on one hand the times Megan had gone out alone since Emma’s return. Where did this come from?
He put his hand on Hannah’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around Alexis, drawing her close.
“Listen to me. Everything your mother has always wanted is right here in this room. Her family. That’s you”—he nodded to Alexis—“and you”—then to Hannah—“and you, little monkey sitting in my favorite chair.” Emma glanced up, her eyes wide. “The only thing that matters to your mom is her family. Nothing else.”
“Are you sure about that? I heard her tell you she needed time to herself tonight.” Alexis taunted him.
He had to give her that. Megan did say that before she left. He’d even agreed with her. He didn’t know what was wrong with her or where her head was at but maybe some time alone, to think about how ridiculous her earlier claims were, would be good for her. He nodded.
“She did, didn’t she. And that’s allowed. Just like when you go up to your room for some quiet time and listen to your music. It’s the same for Mom.” Peter slowly removed his hand from Hannah’s shoulder and laid it on his leg, inches away from Alexis’s bare foot. “Right, kiddo?” He started to tickle her foot and waited for her belly-wrenching laughter.
Alexis tried to yank her foot out of his grasp, but it was point- less. He continued to tickle, and once she started to laugh, the stress in the room dissolved. Daisy started to jump and bark and Emma even laughed a little. Peter memorized the welcome sound as Han- nah rose up on her knees and reached for Alexis’s other foot.
Yes, to hear all three of his girls laughing together, this was heaven on earth.
As soon as she could, Megan had escaped from the house, away from her husband and her fears, and drove to the pier. She didn’t blame him, though; she wasn’t sure she understood it herself. Why did it bother her so much that Emma wouldn’t respond to her name in the same way she responded to that other name? Why was she so sensitive to this?
Was Peter right? Was she just looking for a reason not to be happy? Why couldn’t she just accept life as it happened and stop trying to control it?
Megan parked by the old pier and walked along the rugged path. Once she reached the end, she dangled her legs over the water and drank in the stillness. She gazed at the lake, mesmerized by the gentle swells and the way the seagulls dipped down into the water. She breathed deeply, trying to force the calm of the scene before her into her body, but it wasn’t working.
She wished she were as free as the birds above her, without the stress she heaped upon herself. Emma was home. Her family was healing. Why couldn’t she be happy? Because she wanted more. The hope she felt from her morning dream lingered. There had to be more for her, for them.
Earlier she had confessed to Peter that the incident with Emma had scared her. Without asking why, he turned it around and accused her of doing the same thing to their daughter. But he never asked her why she was scared, and to be honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit the answer.
What she needed was a fresh perspective. Someone to help her understand her doubts and worries. And she knew exactly where to go.
Megan climbed to her feet and headed back toward her vehicle. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure if it was with her or her daughter.
Megan pushed open the door to Dr. Kathy Graham’s office and glanced around the waiting area. The eight chairs were empty, as well as the coatrack. A small folded sign sat on top of the desk with “Please Be Seated” scrawled across it.
She placed a coffee from the drive-thru on the desk and sat down in one of the chairs, clasping her purse tightly between her fingers. She prayed that coming here was the right decision.
“I’ll be right with you,” Kathy, their family counselor, called out.
Coming here was an impulsive decision made on the pier. Peter would never know.
“Megan, come on in.” Kathy stood in the doorway, wearing a light-blue summer dress with her hair in a ponytail.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Megan grabbed the coffee she’d set down on the desk and offered it to Kathy.
Buying Kathy a coffee for seeing her after hours was the least she could do. A tiny seed of doubt wormed its way through Megan. She should have taken the time to calm herself down instead of panicking over something as silly as Emma not responding to her name. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation. Just groundless fears.
Megan followed Kathy into her office, and they both sat down in the leather armchairs. There was something about this office and the way it was decorated, as if it were a room in a friend’s house instead of a doctor’s office. This helped ease some of the tension in Megan’s shoulders.
Off to the side, by the large bay windows, were framed drawings that had been made for Kathy. Megan immediately picked out the picture Emma had drawn during the first few weeks she’d been home. It was a picture of a little girl and a dog, sitting in a field with trees all around them. She had drawn large blue swirls indicating a brisk wind that wrapped itself around the little girl.
Megan hated that picture even though Emma had been so proud of it and asked if Kathy could put it on her wall. She hated that Emma had felt so obviously alone and unsettled.
Kathy crossed her legs and sipped her coffee while Megan sat straight in her chair.
“What’s going on?” Kathy asked.
Megan bit her lip as she searched for the right words. Words that wouldn’t make her sound crazy or ungrateful. Words that would convince Kathy that she wasn’t a bad mother for doubting her child.
“I don’t think Emma is really my daughter,” Megan blurted out instead.
She waited for Kathy’s reaction, for the confusion, the worry, and then the doubt that she knew she deserved. She steeled herself, knowing that she’d been foolish to come and admit her fears. Her grip tightened around her purse strap.
“Why is that?”
Megan was surprised to hear the sincerity in Kathy’s voice. She glanced up an
d saw the concern in Kathy’s gaze. She relaxed a little and set her purse on the floor.
“I know it sounds odd and might not even make sense. But it’s things she says or remembers.”
“What kinds of things? It’s possible she’s confusing early memories with those from living with Jack and Dorothy.”
Megan shook her head. “Why would she respond to being called Emmie and not her real name? It’s not like the two names are completely different. Plus, I thought she would have been more settled and happier by now.” Megan sighed. Was it all her fault? Was she failing her daughter somehow?
Kathy leaned on the armrest. “She still needs time, Megan. This could be Emma’s way of keeping the memory of that life alive.”
Kathy gave a small smile. “Let’s talk about how she’s adjusting. Is she talking more?”
“A bit. She offers more to a conversation now if she’s involved in some way. But . . .” Megan hesitated.
“Is she talking about things from the farmhouse?”
Maybe it was the way Kathy asked, or the tone of her voice when she asked it, but tears welled up in Megan’s eyes. All she could do was nod.
“Remember, we talked about that. It’s completely normal— healthy even. She’s trying to find ways to involve herself with you. For her, sharing memories still fresh in her mind is one way of doing that. It’s good, Megan.” Kathy leaned forward. “Really, it’s a good sign. She’s engaging more.”
Megan’s brow rose. “So am I being oversensitive? Am I making the whole name thing more than it is?”
The way Kathy crossed her legs and took another sip of her coffee angered Megan. She wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was how relaxed she appeared or the look in her eye, like she was only appeasing Megan.
“Why would she respond to Emmie and not Emma?” she blurted out. That was the real question, the one that bothered her the most.
Kathy cocked her head and reached for the pad of paper on the small table beside her. “Maybe she was responding to the first few letters of her name, the Em part. It’s possible that’s all she heard.”
Megan shook her head. She leaned forward and rested her el- bows on her knees. She knotted her fingers together. “No. I called her name repeatedly, but she didn’t hear me. The moment I called her that other name, she did.”
Kathy scribbled some notes down on her sheet, and Megan couldn’t help but wonder whether she was going to suggest that
Megan go on some type of drug again. Just like before. She was not crazy. She knew something was wrong.
“What was she doing before all this happened?”
“Excuse me?”
Kathy set her pad back down on the table and folded her hands
together. “Was Emma in the middle of something when you called her name?”
Megan recalled the quiet conversation she’d overheard between Emma and Daisy.
“She was talking about how much she missed them. The others.”
She didn’t tell Karen about the fairy lights. She didn’t need to. The way Emma’s eyes lit up when Megan said she could have some in her room confirmed that had been the right thing to say.
“Kathy, she’s been with us now long enough that she should remember what it was like to be part of our family. How much we loved her. I’ve done everything you suggested, and I’m very aware of when Emma’s had enough. I don’t force her to interact with us; I give her as much time as she needs while still accepting her feelings. But . . .” She hesitated, unwilling to say what she’d feared all along.
Kathy waited.
“It was as if she had been waiting all this time to be called Emmie again.”
DOWNLOAD THE REST OF THE BOOK AND START READING…CLICK HERE
DID YOU KNOW…
Thank you for reading Emma’s Secret.
I wrote this novel specifically for readers - they wanted to know more about Emma and Jack.
There is so much about this book I love. The fact I was able to keep it personal - from adding the donut shop where I used to work as a teenager, to using my uncles as characters in the story.
I really hope you enjoy the read!
If you turn the page, you’re going to read DOTTIE’S MEMORIES. These are deleted scenes from EMMA’S SECRET that had to be cut. I didn’t want to delete them though…enjoy!
DOTTIE’S MEMORIES
ABOUT THE BOOK
The following chapters you’re about to read are deleted scenes from EMMA’S SECRET.
These are scenes that were cut from the book for one reason or another, but I wanted you to have them, to gain more insight into Dottie.
I hope you enjoy them!
Dear Reader
If you have read Finding Emma, Dear Jack and Emma’s Secret, then you know by now that Dottie’s journal entries show her true heart. Because you’ve followed me in this journey of a little girl loved by many, I wanted to share with you some of the deleted journal entries from Emma’s Secret.
As you read each entry, I wonder if you’ll think about where it was originally placed? Originally each chapter began with an entry, but during revisions I realized that I wanted you to focus more on the story of Emma’s return rather than all the entries from Dottie.
I hope you enjoy them.
Steena
One
August 14
Is it wrong for me to be jealous of the bond between Jack and Emmie? Was it wrong of me to think that this was 'my' time with my little one?
The bond between the two of them reminds me a lot of the one between Jack and Mary. I was always the outsider, the one who didn't understand their little jokes or side glances. I should have been the one Mary clung to, the one who had secret words with her and unspoken memories. I was the one always there for her, the one who held her at night while she cried for her daddy, the one who taught her the hardest life lessons possible. So why was it to Jack she always ran?
It's the same way now. I'm the one nurturing Emmie, struggling to ensure she grows up a well-rounded little girl, but it's Jack she clings to. Jack she wants. Jack who captured her heart.
What did I do wrong?
I know I'm not one to show my love in an outward manner. I never was. It always surprised me that Jack, who wears his heart on his sleeve, could love me like he does with us being so opposite. My mother used to say opposites never attracted, they combusted. But that hasn't been the case between us. Maybe because we know what it's like to live without each other.
I'm too old to change the way I am. I can only hope that Emmie realizes I'm showing my love by teaching her life skills.
It didn't work with Mary, but it might with Mary’s daughter. I'm not as rough around the edges as I once was. I only wish Mary could see that. Maybe if she did, she'd come home.
Two
October 1
Sometimes it’s hard to understand why things happen the way they do.
Why did Jack have to disappear and leave me to raise Mary by myself? Why did Doug have to take his promise to the extreme and make me...why did Doug have to be Doug? Why did Mary have to grow up and decide I was the devil incarnate when all I tried to do was love her the only way I knew how?
There are images in my head that I don’t understand. A street lined with trees and the laughter of children, of balloons covering a clear blue sky and a crying child. It’s a street I don’t recognize and when would I have seen balloons in the air like that?
I know the dementia is getting worse and that I’ll have more days where I don’t remember then days that I do. Right now, that is a blessing. For Emmie. For Jack. For myself. There is nothing I can do to stop my mind from working against itself. I know that. No matter the medication I take, or the specialists I see, I’ll eventually forget who I am and who I love.
I hope I die before that happens. God forgive me, but I hope I do. I’m sorry Jack. I know we made a promise but the thought of living a life lost within myself scares me.
I hope Jack will read these journals one d
ay when I’m completely lost to him and understand, even when I don’t. I pray that when he does understand, that there is nothing left for him to forgive.
Three
October 17
Jack was packing up a box today when I came downstairs. Inside were a bunch of Halloween decorations he'd picked up in town. Miniature skeletons that dangled from a stick, face paint, spray cans of multi colors that work in hair...all the things Mary used to ask for when it came time for Halloween.
He wanted to pack it up before Emmie woke up, he told me. He didn't want her frightened of the skeleton and vampire dolls he bought. Emmie is a very sensitive little girl, she doesn't even like to watch the Halloween cartoon of Berenstein Bears, says it scares her. I believe it since I was the one who sat with her while she cried herself to sleep from watching it. I should have known better. Mary used to be the same way when she was smaller. It wasn't until she was a teenager that her fascination with the holiday grew.
I didn't mind at first, but it was when the black lipstick and nail polish kept coming out after Christmas that it worried me. Jack used to laugh at my fears; he thought Mary needed to grow up expressing herself however she wanted.
Sometimes Jack isn't always right.
I boxed up some cookies Emmie and I made yesterday and had Jack put them in the box as well. I even wrote her a note telling Mary that Emmie helped make them. I hope that will make her smile, knowing her daughter hadn't forgotten about her.
One day, maybe she'll send a note back. I do miss my little girl.
The Finding Emma Collection (Books 1-5) Page 11