Finding Emma
Page 22
“Mama?” Emma whispered. Her voice was hesitant, unsure almost.
The tears Megan tried to withhold overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She let out a loud sob and broke free of the hold of Peter's arms. With speed she didn't imagine possible, Megan rushed across the driveway. Mere inches from her daughter, she stopped and dropped down to her knees. She didn't care that the gravel sank into the skin.
“Emma,” she whispered. Her voice cracked.
“Momma? Papa told me that you weren't in heaven. He said we were lost. You found me.”
Megan opened her arms wide. She needed to feel her daughter's body tight against her own. To ease that ache her arms felt constant for over two years. She couldn't wait to enfold her daughter in her arms.
Emma took the three steps that kept them apart. Her tiny little arms encircled Megan. Megan cried out in relief. Emma. Her daughter. Thank you God, thank you God, she muttered under her breath. She brushed her hand against her daughter's hair and rubbed her back. She stood up on shaky legs but kept a tight hold on her daughter.
As she turned to face Peter, he rushed over and gathered them both in his arms. Her husband, usually so calm and collected, was unable to utter a sound, but his face beamed. Emma scrambled from Megan's arms to Peter's. Megan’s arms were bereft, empty. She wanted to gather her daughter back up, but she stopped herself.
Instead, she leaned her head against Peter's body and marveled at the changes in Emma. No longer the pudgy almost three-year old, Emma had grown, sprouted up into the most precious little girl Megan had ever seen. Those other girls she’d thought looking like Emma, looked nothing like her. Nothing.
When Emma twisted in Peter's arms and stared at the man she called Papa, Megan did the same. Detective Riley had walked over and laid his hand on the older man's arm.
“You need to come with me,” he said. Jack nodded his head, a sad smile on his face. Megan wanted to be angry with him, desired to lash out at him, but she couldn't. The words wouldn't come.
Jack followed Riley to the black car, but stopped when he stood in front of Megan. He hung his head, his shoulders stooped as he clasped his hands in front of him.
“I'm so sorry, I had no idea,” he said. He didn't look up as the words seemed to empty his soul.
“Papa?” Emma twisted in Peter's arms and reached her hand out to him.
“It's okay, Princess,” he winked at Emma, but Megan noticed the sad smile that crept across his face. “Remember we talked about this. It's all going to be okay.” Jack leaned forward and planted a kiss on Emma's head. She buried her face into Peter's neck. Megan reached up and rubbed her back.
Megan was at a loss. Her heart broke for her daughter. She called this man Papa. She wouldn't call him such an endearing word unless she had been loved by him. Her throat, swollen from the sobs she fought to contain, whispered words she never thought she would ever say.
“Thank you. Thank you for giving my daughter back to me.”
Jack's head shook at her words. Heartache and despair filled his eyes.
“I didn’t know. Not until last night. If I had known … little girls, they need their mamas.” Jack’s head dropped. He looked old. Old and frail.
She held her arms out to her daughter who sobbed into her daddy's neck and held on for dear life when Emma grabbed on. Nothing else mattered to Megan but Emma.
Peter walked away from his family and shook Detective Riley's hand. He ignored Jack.
“Thank you. Thank you for finding my daughter,” he said.
“Don't thank me. It was Megan who found your daughter,” Riley said. He opened the car door and held it as Jack sank down in the back seat.
Megan, with Emma still in her arms, joined Peter as he stood beside Riley. Peter placed his arms around her.
“So what happens now? She called him Papa?” Peter asked. His face was turned away from Emma and his voice was low. Megan had to lean closer to hear him.
Detective Riley shut the car door. Megan winced at the sound.
“We'll take him in for questioning. Jack called me this morning and explained what happened two years ago. His wife is ill and in the hospital. Your daughter wasn't hurt, but there will be extensive interviews and consultations with doctors and psychiatrists.” He gave them a smile.
“But this is one story that can only be called a miracle,” Riley said.
Megan tightened her arms around her daughter. She thought about the candle and the wish she’d made.
A miracle indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jack shuffled down the driveway and kicked some of the large rocks out of his way. He needed to lay fresh gravel before the snow. Hard to believe it was already fall.
He shielded his eyes against the glare that glistened off his mailbox. The red arm was up which meant only two things. He prayed it wasn’t more condolences. He had nowhere else to place the cards.
Without glancing through the stack of mail he pulled out of the box, Jack tucked the bundle beneath his arm and headed back towards the house. He cut across his front lawn and grimaced as his tread left an imprint in the overgrown grass. Maybe he’d cut the grass today. Something he should have done weeks ago. If Dottie were here, she’d bite his head off for neglecting the yard.
If Dottie were here, things would be different.
Jack rested against the porch railing and gasped for breath. It wasn’t too long ago he had enough energy for a man half his age. Now he felt his age, plus some. One leg at a time Jack climbed the stairs and sank down in his wicker chair. He dropped the bundle of mail on the little table beside him, leaned back and closed his eyes.
The stillness around him suffocated him. The birds didn’t even chirp. Since the funeral the death song of silence had draped his property like a heavy farmer’s coat.
He missed Dottie. Some days he didn’t think he could go on. Most days he couldn’t. The only thing that kept him going were the little pink envelopes he received in the mail.
Three weeks after his little girl left him they arrived in his mailbox. The first one was covered with flowers and rainbows. One after the other they would arrive. For a while he’d get one every day.
The first one made him cry like a baby. He kept it in his pocket; its creases were stained with his tears.
She still called him Papa. He hadn’t been sure if she would. Each card that arrived was a gift. One he wasn’t sure he would have given if the shoes were reversed.
A week had passed since the last envelope. Walking to the mailbox to return empty handed was hard. The condolences were thoughtful and caring, but meant nothing compared to Emma’s letters.
Jack reached for the mail and fingered through the envelopes. No pink ones. He rubbed his whiskered jaw and cleared his clogged throat. The echo of Emma’s giggles whenever Jack had given her a whisker rub tickled his memory. He’d give anything to hear her laughter again.
Anything.
What Dottie had done, there were no words. No excuses. But he would never trade the days he had with Emma. Never. Jack swiped at his face and sniffed. He’d change how though. No parent should have to go through that nightmare. Poor Dottie. She had no idea the horror she escaped while in her coma. Jack was thankful she slipped away, silently without having to say goodbye. It was easier that way. For her.
Not for him. He would relive that day for the rest of his short life.
Writing on one of the envelopes stood out. Childish letters carefully drawn.
Jack ignored the tears that ran down his face. No one was around to see him wear his foolish heart on his sleeve. He carefully slit open the envelope and took out the folded paper within.
Pink and purple flowers covered the edges of the paper.
Dear Papa,
I lubs you Papa. I have a new dress for school. It’s yellow. Like Daisy. Daisy says hi. She misses you. So do I.
Did you fall in love with Jack and Dottie as much as I did? Want to know more about their story? You’re not the only one! Sign up
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Emma’s story doesn’t end now that she’s reunited with her family. Visit www.steenaholmes.com to find out more information about “Bringing Emma Home”.
Proceeds from every book sold of Finding Emma will be donated to Missing Children’s Society of Canada - www.mcsc.ca. Thank you for helping to reunite families back together!
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