“How about we take our ice cream outside? It's a beautiful night and it's too stuffy in the house.”
Alexis stood at the kitchen table where she’d dumped out the contents of her school bag and sorted through it.
“What are you looking for?” Megan brought a sundae to her daughter and set it beside her. A scowl filled Alexis' face as she tore through all the papers.
“Mr. Morley sent a note home for you. It's the last week of school. You'd think he'd let up a bit,” she grumbled.
She held a white envelope with Mr. & Mrs. Taylor scrawled across the front. As soon as Megan took hold of the envelope, Alexis dug into her ice cream.
“Why don't you eat that outside with us?” Megan headed outside with her own sundae in one hand and the envelope in the other. She wasn’t too concerned about the letter. There were only a few more days of school left. What could possibly be wrong?
The silence between the three at the patio table spoke volumes. Megan enjoyed her hot fudge sundae. She loved the taste of the chocolate on her tongue and made sure she savored each spoonful. Alexis inhaled her butterscotch sundae, while Hannah dipped her spoon into the ice cream with delicate precision. She was usually the last to finish.
The white envelope, discarded on the table, caught Megan’s attention. Alexis hadn't brought home a letter from her teacher in quite a long time.
“You're not going to read that in front of her, are you?” Alexis pointed towards Hannah with her spoon.
“Alex!”
“What? It's personal. I don't want her to hear.” Alexis shrugged her shoulders. Hannah stuck her tongue out.
“Hannah.”
“Alright, alright. I'll go inside.” Hannah stood and gathered the trash.
Megan waited for a nod from Alexis before opened the envelope. Since it was the last week of school, she doubted Mr. Morely would have anything negative to say.
She should have known better.
“Alex, what is this?” She waved it in front of Alexis, who now slouched in her chair, her arms folded and her head down.
“Is it about today?”
“Of course it is, you know that.” Megan's blood pressure rose as she looked at the letter in her hands. She had to remember to breathe, in and out, in and out.
“I didn't mean it.” Alex peeked up at Megan.
“But you said it.” Oh God, how would she deal with this now?
Dear Mr & Mrs. Taylor;
An incident occurred today after school that I wanted to bring to your attention.
Words were said between Alexis and a fellow classmate. Alexis brought the incident to my attention, but also said something to me that raises my concern.
Has she ever said to you that she wished it were her that was taken instead your other daughter?
Alexis has made a tremendous effort this year and her attitude has improved, but I wonder if seeing a child psychologist would benefit her in dealing with her emotions. There is one that I recommend if you would like to pursue this.
I know this has been a difficult time for you, but I am concerned for your daughter.
She placed the letter back in the envelope and laid it down on the table. Her heart fluttered with unease.
“Alex, honey, why...how could you even wish this? Do you think ... you don't think ... that I love you less than Emma, do you?”
She reached across the table and laid her hand on her daughter's arm. It was cold to the touch. Alexis unfolded her arms and grabbed onto Megan's hand for a moment before she let it go.
“But you do love her more.”
Megan's heart twisted. She didn't know how to answer without hurting her daughter even more.
Alexis' chair scraped along the wood deck as she pushed it back and stood.
“Seriously, its fine, Mom, you don't have to explain. You love us all the same, yadda yadda.” She stomped away in a huff, wrenched open the patio door and turned.
“Sometimes I just wish you could love me more. That's all. Not all the time. Just sometimes. More than Emma.”
Megan reached her hand out and caught her daughter's arm before she entered the house.
“I do love you, Alexis. I love you more than life. If it were you that were missing, I would be doing every single thing that I could to find you. Everything. Just like I am for Emma.”
Alexis' back straightened and a light shone in her eye. Megan knew that light. Alexis was ready for a fight.
“Yeah, but would you forget about Emma if she were here and I wasn't?”
Megan’s stomach clenched as if she'd been sucker punched in the gut.
“What? Why you would you say that?” She gasped, fought for her breath as her daughter stood there. The light in her eyes shone brighter.
“'Cause it's the truth. Isn't it. Ever since Emma disappeared, it's like you forgot that I was here still.” Alexis shrugged her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. You don't have to worry about me. I've got Dad. At least he loves me.” Megan flinched at Alex’s scathing look.
Megan stood helpless as her daughter walked away. The patio door stood open. She cringed with each stomp up the stairs Alexis made. When her music blared through the open windows, Megan covered her ears. She wanted to block out the sound.
Hannah stood by the kitchen table. Megan reached for her, wanted to hold her close. She prayed Hannah didn't feel the same way. Her daughter didn't move. She just stood there, sorrow etched in her eyes. Megan took a step towards her, but Hannah shook her head.
“You can't ignore everything, Mom. I try to fill in the gap, but I’m just a kid.” She turned and walked away.
Megan stood there, with her hand stretched out. She'd been left alone.
Where was Peter? How dare he leave her alone to deal with this? It was after nine o'clock at night. Why wasn't he home yet? He hadn't called, hadn't emailed or answered any of her texts she sent him on her walk along the beach that evening. On their way home, the girls wanted to stop at the office to give him his ice cream, but his truck wasn't there.
Only one thought came to mind. There was only one place he could be. One place he would go to if he thought our marriage was over. HER house.
Megan’s heart broke. If he was there, it was all her fault.
*****
The porch swing creaked as Megan stared into the night sky. It was almost midnight and she was still alone. The night breeze kissed the skin at the back of her neck. She tugged the blanket wrapped around her body tighter with one hand. The other held a cup of lukewarm mint tea.
She knew she should head to bed. If Peter hadn't come home by now, he probably wouldn't. Yet, her lethargic body wouldn't move. Her legs were tucked under her, covered by the blanket, and the cushion behind her head was soft enough that she could pretend it was a pillow.
With her head leaned back, her eyes closed, Megan began to hum. It was a soft song, barely distinguishable. A lullaby she would sing to the girls when they were little. The distant sound of a car door as it closed reached her ears. Part of her hoped it was her husband, but it could have been their neighbor arriving home from the late shift.
It wasn't until the patio door opened that she knew her husband had come home.
Her eyes remained closed even as the swing shifted under his weight when he sat down. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
“There's a chocolate caramel sundae in the freezer for you.” Megan's mouth barely opened when she spoke.
“Thank you.”
“Thank the girls. They wanted to surprise you after their lessons, so we stopped by the office.”
She opened her eyes then. She wanted to see the expression on his face as he thought of an answer. He wouldn't look at her. His face was turned so she only saw the outline of his face. She shook her head.
“You weren’t there,” she said when he didn’t say anything.
“Sorry. I needed time to think.”
She lifted her head off the cushion. “I'm sorry. Did you say you needed time to thin
k? About what, if I'm allowed to ask?” If he didn't grasp the sarcasm in her voice, she'd be shocked.
“Yesterday and today kind of threw me for a loop. I thought after last night ... I overreacted today and that’s not me.” He still wouldn't look at her.
Overreacted? You think? A torrent of accusations pooled on Megan’s tongue, but she kept her mouth shut. What else needed to be said that hadn’t been already?
“Where were you?” She whispered instead.
A picture of Peter and HER filled Megan’s mind. HER – with her long, legs and short skirts. HER – with her long hair and Angelina Jolie lips. HER – the woman she despised.
She suppressed the picture in her mind. A cold fury settled deep within her.
Peter bowed his head. “At the office.”
Megan snorted in disbelief. “Really?”
This time he looked at her. There were bags under his eyes and new frown lines around his lips.
“At the office. I swear.”
She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. Every marriage had its ups and downs. Theirs was no different. But there was something in the back of her mind that wouldn’t let her believe him. Not yet.
“You don't need to lie to me, Peter. I already told you I stopped at the office with the ice cream. Where were you?” She gripped the blanket tighter around her body.
“I went for a drive. I must have just missed you. Honest.”
Megan pursed her lips. A drive. Uh huh.
“So that's where you've been. All night? You couldn't call or answer any of my texts?” Her fists gripped the blanket so tight, her knuckles turned white from the pressure.
Peter rubbed his face. “I don't want to fight anymore, Meg. I just went for a drive. I stopped somewhere and walked along the beach. I just needed to think.”
She wanted to believe him. If their marriage was going to work, she needed to believe him. But she also needed to know.
“Were you alone?”
Peter straightened and shot her a look of horror. “Yes, of course I was. You didn't think ...”
She refused to blink as he stared at her. He had the gall to accuse her this morning of having an affair. But what about him? Did he accuse her of something he himself was guilty of?
She wasn't going to let him off that easily. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She didn't squeeze back.
“I was alone, Meg. I swear. I was thinking, that's it.” He rubbed his face again. “I can't believe you would think that ... what have I done?”
Megan shrugged her shoulder. She had no answer for him. Not one he wanted to hear anyway.
“I miss her. Emma. I miss her. Seeing those pictures today, it opened my eyes. To us. You and I, we've held different roles. You've dedicated everything you have into finding her, while I,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I focused on our family. Trying to keep it together, be there for the girls.”
The swing rocked as he shifted his position and faced her. His thumb rubbed her hand.
“I realized today that we forgot to focus on us throughout all of this. And I think we lost each other. Not only have we lost Emma, but we lost each other. I was trying to figure out if there was anything left between us, if there was still hope in finding what we once had. That's why I went for that walk. Why I didn't call you.”
Megan bowed her head. The pain that crept into Peter's eyes as he spoke hurt too much to watch. They were lost. They'd been lost for a while.
“I realized that most of all, Megan, I miss you. I miss the woman you were before this nightmare entered our lives. I miss my wife. And the girls, they miss their mother. We've all become a shell. No matter where Emma is,” Peter's voice caught, “she would never have wanted us to be like this.”
Megan wiped away the tears that poured down her cheeks. She raised her head and looked her husband in the eyes. She saw heartbreak, loneliness and fear. But most of all, she saw a small glimmer of hope there. She believed him. She didn't want to squash it, but she needed to tell him the truth.
“I don't know how to live life without Emma. It's like my life is on pause. If there were a rewind button, I'd push it. I'd wish it all away. But God's not that nice. He doesn't give us those options. Instead he toys with us, sees how much we can handle. Why else would He tear our child from her home? Why else would He destroy the life that we lived and loved? You ask too much of me, Peter. I'm sorry.” Her head shook as tremors flowed through her body until she couldn't determine where they stopped or began.
“Have you talked to the girls about Emma? I mean really talk to them? Did you know that Alexis keeps a journal like me? That she writes to her sister every day? We do this together, her and I. And did you know that Hannah writes stories for Emma? She draws pictures and everything, so that when she comes back, Hannah can read them to her.”
Megan shook her head. She had no idea. She was clueless to their daughters’ pain. What kind of mother doesn't know these things? She covered her mouth as a sob ripped through her throat.
“I had no idea. None. What have I done?”
Peter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Megan sobbed on his shoulder.
“I don't want to lose you, Meg. I don't want our children to lose their mother.” He stroked her hair as he spoke.
Megan wiped the tears from her eyes.
“You're asking me to give up on Emma though.”
“I'm asking you to not give up on us. Emma is included in that.” The gentle pressure of a kiss on the top of her head spread heat throughout her body. The swing rocked back and forth as they listened to the night sounds in their yard.
“I was thinking, that maybe, you should see someone. Someone to talk to. We could go together, if you want.”
Megan struggled to sit up. She pushed Peter's arms away.
“Like a counselor?”
She wasn't sure how to respond. Shortly after Emma's disappearance, they'd all gone to psychiatrist as a family. But that was well over a year ago.
“I was thinking more along the lines of the pastor at the church, or even the pastor’s wife? Maybe we could even try going back to church?”
Megan shook her head. No way. No way was she stepping back through the doors of their church. Nor would she talk to the pastor or his wife. No.
“Peter, where was God when Emma was taken? Why hasn't He answered any of our prayers for her return?” She shook her head again. No way.
“Maybe it's not God's fault--”
“NO. Don't you dare. I don't want to hear any platitudes from you or anyone else about how God doesn't take small little girls from their families. If you want to go see a marriage counselor, fine. Let's go. Let's see if we can salvage our marriage. A counselor. Not a pastor.”
She stood up from the swing and faced Peter as he sat there with a shocked look on his face.
“I'm going to bed. It's late and I'm exhausted. Don't forget the ice cream in the freezer.” She gathered the blanket around her and walked into the house.
The trail ends of the fabric caught in the door as it closed behind her. She tried to yank it out, but it wouldn't budge. She cried out in frustration. How dare he suggest they needed to bring God back into their life?
They weren’t the ones who abandoned God. He abandoned them first.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The light filtered through the white curtains and showered Emmie's room with its golden presence. Her eyes fluttered open. With a yawn, she stretched out her arms and rolled over. She grabbed onto her pink tiger and cuddled it close. She loved her pink tiger. Grandma said that she came to their house with Pink, so she must be a special tiger. Maybe Mommy gave her Pink before she went away?
At the thought of Mommy, Emmie sat up in bed, threw the covers off and scrambled to the floor. Her toes flexed when they met the carpet. She slid her feet into her slippers and wiggled her toes, they didn't like being cold.
She headed to her bookshelf, grabbed some white paper and her basket of crayons and carr
ied them to the table. Something was missing. Emmie glanced around her room and spotted Pink alone on her bed. She tiptoed across her floor, careful not to make any noise, and grabbed her tiger.
She had a dream last night that she wanted to draw. Papa said that she was good at drawing.
Emmie was hunched over her table when her door opened. It used to creak, but then Papa fixed it with some oil. This way she wouldn't wake up Grandma in the mornings when she went down to color with him. She peaked up and smiled. She knew it would be him. Papa looked happy this morning. She liked it when he was happy. Maybe he would have another surprise for her today.
“So there you are, sleepyhead.” He patted her hair and pulled out a chair. Emmie giggled. He always looked funny when he sat in her chairs. They were too small for him. But he never broke them, not like Goldilocks did to Baby Bear's chair.
Emmie reached into her basket for the pink crayon. “What does heaven look like?” She loved to draw fluffy clouds. Would they feel like the cotton balls Grandma let her use to make snowmen?
Papa leaned forward until his elbows rested on the table. He looked like a bear all bunched up. He was looking at her picture. Did he like it?
“Well now, Princess, I think ...” he rubbed his bald head, “well, why do you want to know?”
Emmie shrugged her shoulder. She finished her pink clouds and tapped the crayon against her cheek. What else is in heaven? She sat up, dragged the basket of crayons from the middle of the table to beside her and looked for the grey one. She held it up for Papa to see, then began to outline her castle. There's always a big castle in heaven. Just like at Disneyland.
“Cause,” Emmie said. She didn't look up. “Mommy must be in heaven.”
Once the castle was done, Emmie reached into her basket again for another crayon. Purple. She drew flowers all around her castle.
“Well now,” Papa cleared his throat, “why would you be thinkin' that? Heaven is a too heavy of a topic to clutter your pretty little brain so early in the morning.”
Emmie shook her head. She didn't want to tell Papa about her dream. It would make him sad. She saw Mommy in heaven. She held Pink in her hands and she called out to Emmie.
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