[Finding Emma 02.5] Dottie's Memories Read online

  Dottie’s Memories

  Deleted Entries from Emma’s Secret

  Steena Holmes

  www.steenaholmes.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Steena Holmes

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

  www.steenaholmes.com

  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.

  When you’re done, please come and visit me on my Facebook page and let me know what you thought of these deleted entries – http://www.facebook.com/steenaholmes.author.

  Until then…

  Steena

  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.

  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 day 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.

  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.

  November 2

  I'm worried about Jack. It's that time again. He came home with a new bottle of Jack Daniels and placed it in the cupboard above the stove. He hasn't been talking much, just hiding in his little tool shed, building god knows what out there. I made the mistake in suggesting he start to build things for the local churches Christmas drive. The only person he wants to build for right now is his baby girl. I understand. But his baby girl is getting spoiled and that's not right.

  How long is he going to mourn like this? It's been too many years to count. At first, he would pull away from me for more than a month. Thankfully it's only for a week or so now. I'm too old to deal with this.

  When my folks passed away, I had a good cry and then carried on. I had to. There was no other choice. And when I thought Jack was dead, it was only at night, when Mary was in bed, that I'd let the grief wash over me.

  Jack, please, when I die — don't grieve. If you read this, please live your life. I'll be waiting for you. I will always love you. But for Emmie's sake, I need you to let me go.

  February 7

  Jack handed me a box today and asked me to mail it while in town getting groceries. It was only a small box, not heavy, and I could hold it with one hand. When I asked him what was in it, his shoulders slumped and he said it was for Valentine's Day.

  What he didn't say was that it was for Mary.

  Most days I'm able to forget, to pretend that she is still out there, somewhere. Most days I live in a fog where not much is clear.

  I'm not sure anymore what is memory and what is make believe. It's hard to discern between real and dreams. Between what I want and what I have. I don't think I know the difference anymore.

  I parked on a deserted back road today and sat there in my car. I know this sounds crazy, but it was as if I saw things happen right in front of my eyes. As if there were a movie playing out on the road. I had to pull over. I don't want to go crazy. Not like this! Please let it be a nightmare. Please let it be something my mind wants me to believe that isn't real.

  I saw an article in the paper of a possible kidnapping again in Kinrich. Not the first, the article said. It highlighted a family still looking for their toddl
er. A beautiful little girl named Emma. She looked so much like our Emmie, but younger. I tore out the section and burned it in the fire before Jack could read it. I'm not sure why — it was an unexpected reaction. Maybe she reminded me too much of Mary, of what I went through when she first ran away.

  That has to be it. There's no other explanation.

  March 30

  There are days when I am so angry. At Mary for leaving me to raise her daughter. At Jack for not understanding the situation we are in. At myself for being so angry. The only person I'm not mad at is Emmie. But I take my anger out on her. Not physically. But I pull away. It's the only way I know how to deal with my feelings. I'm not a talker. I don't believe in the theory that if I talk through my feelings things will magically get better. They won't. They'll just become more real.

  Today I hid myself away in our bedroom. Thankfully Jack understood. I used to do this when Mary was a young child. I needed time to myself. Quiet when I could get lost in my own thoughts and not worry about anything else. I'm too old to raise a child. We're too old. Why can't Jack see that?

  Jack wants to reach out to Mary, to convince her to come home and raise Emmie. I think it's a bad idea. I'm not sure why, but there's something inside me that tells me it wouldn't work. I told Jack I would try to contact Mary. But I won't. I can't. She knows where we live. She knows our phone number. Our daughter knows she can come home any time she wants to. But she's chosen not to.

  Her last words to me were, "I hate you." I'll never forget her tone. Every child eventually says that to their parents, but they never believe it. Deep down. But Mary did. I heard it in her voice. I don't know what I did that was so evil, so horrific to earn her hatred, but it's there.

  Every day I remind myself that I can do it differently. That I can raise Emmie to be a loving young woman. But every day I'm also reminded of my age and how tired I am and I get worried. What happens if I die too soon? What if Jack is the one who dies first? What if we die together, like we had talked about, knowing that without each other, there was no reason to live? What would happen to Emmie then?

  Mary will never be a mother to Emmie. She might as well be dead. What kind of mother says that about her own child? Maybe this is the reason Mary hates me so much, because she knows that I'm the type of mother to say that.

  Because both she and I know it is true. Mary is dead. And there's nothing I can do to change that.

  June 20

  It's not often we go on family trips, but today was an extra special day: the one year anniversary since Emmie came to live with us. We wanted to do something extra special with her today. Actually, I wanted to make her a cake and give her the new tea set I'd found, but it was Jack's idea to go out.

  There's a little town about an hour away that has a playhouse. Jack once took me to see Romeo and Juliette there for our anniversary back when we were younger. We even stayed at a bed and breakfast, something that was quite the novelty back in the day.

  Last night I finished sewing a new dress for Emmie. The fabric was on sale and so girly. Something Mary would never wear, but perfect for her daughter. I sometimes wonder how Mary could birth a child like Emmie. At times, she's the complete opposite to the child I raised.

  I laid the new dress out for Emmie this morning while she was eating breakfast with Jack. I swear, if our neighbours still lived next door, they could have heard her squeals when she saw it. But she looks like a button as my mother used to say. A button worth sewing. And she did. I made sure Jack took a picture today before we left.

  Emmie was a little ball of energy on the drive today. She kept asking where we were going, but Jack would only wink at her and leave me to calm her down, as usual. I swear, he has no idea some days of how to raise a young child. He likes to get her worked up over the littlest things. He says her laughter is a balm to his soul. Honestly — a balm to his soul. The old man is growing soft.

  We stopped at a little tea shop and ate cucumber sandwiches with homemade lemonade. It was too sour for Emmie so Jack snuck in a few extra packets of sugar, not thinking I'd notice. The scones were light and fluffy, but nothing like what I make. They could have used an extra teaspoon of vanilla and a little less salt, in my opinion.

  The play we went to see, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, was quite enjoyable. Emmie loved it, I don't think she stopped smiling until she went to sleep. The best part of course was when Emmie got picked out of all the kids in the small crowd to go backstage during the intermission and then have a small role on the stage. I was a bit wary of her doing that, she's so small and not used to crowds, but Jack was there at the side and stood guard, protecting her like the man he is. She was as cute as a button, playing the role of a sunflower swaying in the breeze.

  This will be a day we'll never forget.

  July 17

  I thought Emmie had run away today. Just like Mary. I behaved like a crazy woman and embarrassed myself when I couldn't find Jack and I called Doug for help. Why did I call Doug? I should have remembered Jack was only down the road looking at our neighbour's old lawn mower.

  Jack hasn't said anything but I know it bothered him. That I would call Doug instead of seek him out. I made his favorite cake as a peace offering. Saying I'm sorry or even trying to explain would serve no purpose.

  I know we'll do what we always do — ignore it. It might not be the right way to handle a situation, but it's our way. And it works.

  I had been outside with Emmie working in my garden while she played beside me. It was hot out and I thought it would be nice to make us some lemonade. I must have lost track of time because the next thing I remember, I was sitting in my chair in the living room. I must have fallen asleep.

  I can't believe I did that. How could I have left Emmie outside by herself? How could I have forgotten about her long enough to decide I needed a nap? It doesn't make sense.

  Although, a lot of things aren't making sense lately. I'm losing track of time, forgetting to do the simplest of things, like make dinner, or forgetting where I put the sugar. I know Jack notices. He's started to write notes for me on the fridge, having me write out lists of what I need to do and he's been after me to set timers on all the things I cook or bake. But what do all these things matter if my mind goes blank?

  I panicked when I couldn't find Emmie. I searched all through the house before I realized I'd left her outside. By herself! How could I have done that? I know we live out in the country, but it doesn't mean we're safe from dangers. What if someone had come by and taken her? What if...Jack tells me I can't live in the world of what ifs, that it does no one any good. He's right of course.

  But when his truck wasn't in the driveway and I did the first thing I could think of. I called Doug. He must have heard the panic in my voice. He helped me to calm down. There was nothing else he could do. He doesn't live close enough to come out and help search. Why I called him in the first place, I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. Other than deep down, no matter what has happened between us, I know Doug will always be there for me. Even if I don't want him to be.

  Emmie was outside sleeping in the play house Jack just finished making for her. Outside. Exactly where I had left her. Why didn't I think to look in her play house? That should have been the first place I looked. Even Jack said that. Why didn't I look in there first?

  I don't know. Why didn't I?

  October 31

  Instead of having our house lights on and waiting for a handful of children to come knocking at our door, Jack suggested we take Emmie into Hanton and go out for dinner. Without making a big deal of the holiday, Jack suggested that Emmie dress up in one of her princess costumes we'd found at a garage sale last summer.

  She sure did look like a miniature Cinderella.

  Jack surprised me by taking us to the Chinese restaurant. My favorite place — we used to go there every Sunday afternoon for their buffet. It's the only place in the area that makes decent chicken balls. Mei Ling took to Emmie as soon as we came in. It had been so lon
g since I last saw Mei Ling, even though we are the same age, she looked as delicate and beautiful as she used to. Hard to believe we were once best friends growing up.

  When Mei Ling confessed that she knew me when I was her age, the look in Emma’s eyes had me laughing. Back in those days, it was unheard of for a German family to be close friends with a Chinese family, and yet, we were. Helped that we were neighbours and born close in age. Our mothers learned to lean on one another for help. I remember having a joint vegetable garden and Mei Ling and I pulling weeds in the early morning.

  We didn't stay long. The place began to fill up too quickly for my liking and I think Jack could see how anxious I was getting. Mei Ling was kind enough to package up our meals so we could take them home. On our way to the truck, Jack took Emmie into some of the stores that were handing out candy to the kids before they closed up. She ended up with more than enough candy and I had to hide it when we got home. That much candy is never good for a young girl. The last thing she needs is to develop a sweet tooth and crave sugar all hours of the day. It's bad enough that Jack brings her home treats when he goes for coffee with the boys. Back when we were kids, having a sugar treat was reserved for extra special occasions.

  I will admit though, she looked just like a princess all dressed up tonight.

  November 5

  Mary is outside with some stray dog she found in the field. The yapping is giving me a headache. There was a reason I don’t like dogs. You can’t trust them. The moment you turn your back, they snatch food off the counter, urinate in your flower garden and dig up your root vegetables thinking it’s a bone.