Emma's Secret Page 21

  She asked for love but not forgiveness. He would have given her both, no questions asked.

  A heavy tread up the stairs alerted him that he’d soon have company.

  “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late. Kenny’s all in a panic.” Doug edged Jack’s bedroom door open and stood there.

  “Tell the old man to keep his pants on. I’m coming.”

  Doug pointed to the journal in his lap. “You found another one?” His gaze strayed over to the bookshelf full of Dottie’s journals.

  Jack considered how much to tell Doug. He caught the worry in his friend’s eyes and knew the time for secrets had passed.

  “It’s her last one.”

  Doug took a step into the room and sat down in the wicker chair beside the door.

  “Did you read it?”

  Jack nodded. “She was a stronger woman than I gave her credit for.” He shuffled the book in his hands, not willing to part with the feel of it, for even a moment. It was the last thing she’d written, her last letter to him.

  “Does she talk about Emmie?” Doug leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  Jack shrugged.

  “What are you going to do about it?” They’d had this discussion many times, about how Dottie found Emmie and brought her into their lives. They’d both tried to understand, to reckon how Dottie’s mind must have been during that time.

  “Nothing.” Jack grunted. “It’s time to leave things in the past. That girl is where she should be, with her family. Living in the past, having these questions hang over my head, and needing answers does nobody any good.”

  He pushed himself up off the bed and reached for a box he’d set behind him. He slid the journal beneath balls of yarn and lifted the box into his arms before turning around.

  “I can hear Kenny whining. Let’s go.” He followed Doug out of the room and down the stairs. Kenny sat at the kitchen table, with the new oxygen tank at his side.

  “Sure you want to go? It’s only bingo.” The old man needed to be back in bed, not traipsing about, especially in his condition. But there was a fire in Kenny’s gaze and Jack knew bed was the last place he wanted to be. The nurse, after checking on Kenny earlier, had told Jack to let the man enjoy what little time he had left. So that’s what he was going to do.

  It was advice Jack meant to live by as well.

  The smell of roasted turkey wafted through the kitchen. Megan stood at her kitchen island, chopping sweet potatoes to make Peter’s favorite dish—candied yams. Every element on her stove was in use, as well as her slow cooker and oven. Chaos reigned in her house, and she was loving every minute of it.

  It was Thanksgiving, and she had so much to be thankful for this year. In the last few months, their family had grown closer; the rifts once so deeply entrenched now healing. Her relationship with Peter was stronger than it had ever been. They worked as a team in their marriage, in their home, and she was even working a few hours in the office during the day. It almost reminded her of the early years of their marriage.

  The past couple of years Thanksgiving dinner had been held at her parents’ house, but this year Megan wanted her home to be full of laughter, love, and family.

  Sheila stood at the sink washing dishes, while Laurie sat at the kitchen table putting together a photo album with Emma and Hannah. Daisy was outside barking up a storm as she chased a squirrel around the yard.

  “I can’t believe it hasn’t snowed yet,” her mom muttered as she stared out the kitchen sink window. She smiled over her shoulder at Megan, who smiled back. So far, fingers crossed, there’d been no arguments, no nitpicking about the dishes. Hopefully, it would continue that way.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Peter’s arms snaked around her waist, and his lips left a lingering kiss against the pulse in her neck. Megan leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Just cutting the last veggies. We should be ready in an hour.” She slid the knife through the last half of the sweet potato and pushed down. These might be one of her favorite root vegetables, but she hated the effort it took to cut them.

  “Want me to do that?” Peter reached his hand out for the knife. Megan relinquished her hold and stepped away to check on the pots on the stove.

  “Megan, you look gorgeous here.” Laurie held up a picture. Megan blushed. Peter had taken that last month when they’d gone for a walk down the boardwalk. The girls surrounded her, their arms all around her, while the wind blew her hair every which way. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were rosy from the nippy wind. She’d never been happier, and it showed.

  “You should frame that one,” Peter said as he peeked over her shoulder.

  “Mom, when can we eat?” Hannah barreled into the room, almost tripping over her feet before Peter stopped her with his arm.

  “Not yet, honey.” Peter twisted her around by holding on to her shoulders and pushed her back in the direction she came. “You’re supposed to be keeping Grandpa Dan company.” Peter leaned closer to her ear. “Remember, we need to keep him out of the kitchen.”

  Megan winked at Peter once Hannah left. Her father knew nothing about cooking, but he thought everyone wanted his opinion. It was Hannah’s job to keep him out, and so far she’d done a great job.

  “Which one’s your favorite, Alexis?” Megan stood behind her daughter and played with her hair. Alexis was hunched over the photos, shuffling them back and forth.

  “I like this one.” She pointed to a picture she’d taken herself of Emma playing in the backyard with Daisy. Daisy sat in her lap, a bone between her paws, while Emma stared at something in the distance, not shown in the picture. There was a peaceful look on her daughter’s face. Megan could see why Alexis liked it so much.

  “You take great pictures. Maybe you should add a camera to your Christmas list?” Megan thought about the new camera hidden away in the upstairs closet. She couldn’t wait to give it to her and hear the excitement in her voice when she opened the gift.

  “Thanks,” Alexis mumbled. She lowered her head and tried to hide her face behind her hair as it swung forward.

  The atmosphere in the kitchen was full of energy. Daniel and Hannah were shouting at the television in the other room, while Sheila was humming to herself at the counter. Emma kept checking the clock on the microwave while Laurie tried to distract her.

  Megan poured herself a small glass of white wine and refilled both Laurie’s and her mother’s glasses as well. “Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes, Mom?”

  Sheila wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the glass. The doorbell rang at the same time.

  “Do you want me to get that?” Peter asked.

  Megan shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

  The doorbell rang again just as Megan grabbed the doorknob.

  Jack stood on the other side, wearing his Sunday best, from what she could tell. He held a box, and from the way he shuffled it in his hands, he looked a bit nervous.

  “Jack.” Megan opened the screen door. Butterflies took off in a dizzying pattern in her stomach as she worked on keeping her smile in place.

  Jack’s fingers whitened as he tightened his grip on the box.

  “Thanks for inviting me.” He cleared his throat before his focus dropped to the box.

  There was an awkward moment of silence. “Are Kenny and Doug okay being home alone today?”

  Jack shrugged. “I dropped the boys off at the retirement home. There’s a game of bingo playing, and Kenny wanted one last chance at winning the pot.”

  Last month, Doug and Kenny had moved in with Jack. Peter had mentioned to Megan one night that the only reason he’d held out for so long was due to their morning coffee dates. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Jack felt he needed an excuse to continue seeing Emma, and he thought that was the only way—to be at the donut shop every morning. After a little bit of coaxing on Peter’s part, Jack had invited his friends to move in.

  She was about to look inside the
open box, to see what was so important to him, but there was a look on his face that stopped her. “Is Kenny getting worse?”

  Jack shrugged. “Not sure he’ll make it to Christmas.” She caught the bright sheen of tears in his eyes and knew it was time to change the subject.

  “Jack.” She needed to say this before anyone else came out, especially Emma. “I’m glad you could accept our invitation. This is Em’s first Thanksgiving since she’s come back, and it was important to her…” That didn’t quite come out the way she wanted.

  It had been a hard battle for Megan ever since that day when Emma had run away to the donut shop. The last thing she wanted to do was accept Jack as part of Emma’s life. She’d been livid with Peter, and it had taken many counseling sessions before her anger had subsided.

  Emma needed Jack in her life. He helped stabilize her, and his presence in her life created a sense of security. He was her grounding. As much as Megan hated it, she had to accept it. It would have been better if Peter hadn’t gone over her head and allowed the relationship to grow, but in order to keep a solid front with the girls and to rebuild their marriage, Megan swallowed her pride and put her daughters’ interests ahead of her own.

  Emma and Peter continued their dates with Jack, and Megan tagged along a few times, until, at the urging of their counselor, they invited Jack to join the family for activities outside the donut shop. It started with trips to the beach and out for ice cream; then Peter invited Jack over to watch a football game; eventually, he began to come for Sunday dinners.

  Whether she wanted it or not, Jack was now a part of their lives. And to be honest, he was growing on her. She kept her distance at first, not really interacting with him much other than the polite basics. But it was as if Emma knew her hesitation, and she did everything she could to bring them closer.

  Jack shook his head. “Megan, I know inviting me wasn’t your idea, but…” His voice choked up, and he didn’t meet her gaze.

  Megan reached out her arm. “No, it was. My suggestion.”

  Jack’s head lifted, and she saw the surprise in his eyes. He held the box out for her.

  “I, um, well, I was going through the house, and I found a few things. There’s wool—not sure if anyone knits, but there’s plenty in here for hats and scarves and whatnot. Plus, there’s…”

  Megan looked inside. Amid the colorful balls of wool was a book. It almost looked like a notepad or a journal. She reached for it but didn’t open it.

  “There’s nothing I can say to explain what happened to my girl, to Dottie. I wish I could. I’ve wanted to give you a reason or something to help answer questions I know you have.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Jack’s eyes gleamed. “No. It’s not. But I found Dottie’s journal. She was meticulous about writing in that thing daily. For years. There’s a bookshelf full of her diaries. But this one…she didn’t write in it as much. It starts when Em…when she brought Em to our house, and it ends just before…” He cleared his throat a few times.

  Megan held the journal close. “You’re saying it’s all in here? Everything from those two years?” She couldn’t believe it.

  Jack placed the box down on the ground. “Her mind was already going, so she didn’t write every day, but…I wanted…I thought it might help you get to know my Dottie…and why she thought Em was our granddaughter.”

  Megan’s heart swelled as she read the honesty in Jack’s gaze.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. The sound of a chair being pushed back on the tiled floor and bare feet running toward them forced her to be calm. “Thank you.” She smiled as she held the journal close to her chest.

  “Papa!” Emma launched herself into Jack’s outstretched arms. “You’re here!”

  Megan watched the barrage of emotions sweep across Jack’s face as he held her daughter tight in his arms. If anyone had asked her a few months ago whether she would have welcomed this man into her home like this, she would have laughed. Never in a million years. It had taken a lot of soul-searching before she realized this man wasn’t the enemy.

  “You’re part of our family now.” Megan placed her hand on Jack’s arm and smiled. Peter met them in the foyer and shook Jack’s hand in greeting before walking him into the family room where the football game was playing.

  Megan sank down on the steps and opened the journal in her hands. There was a bookmark at the back, and it was where she went to first. She was curious as to why this spot in the book was marked. What she read would forever change her.

  Dear Jack…

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I wrote this book specifically for those who fell in love with Emma’s story in Finding Emma. Without your input, without your e-mails and your comments, I would have never created Emma’s Secret. I hope you will fall in love with this story and feel drawn even closer to the characters, and that after you read the final page, you’ll be able to put this book down with a sigh of satisfaction.

  To my husband and family for encouraging me to write a story from my heart and for all your ideas on how to create a family worthy of this story. And to my girls of awesomeness, for standing by me, for believing in me when I didn’t, and for just being awesome! This is just the beginning…

  A special thank-you once again to Sherri Gall. Thank you for listening to me ramble, for reading and responding to my frantic text messages when I’m trying to figure out a plot point, and for all your ideas and suggestions on how to create a secret that only Emma could have.

  To Jean Brewer and the Dachshund Group—there’s a special spot in this story just for you. To Wendy Keel, Amy Schaubel, Lyn Campbell, and Alyssa Palmer—thank you for your keen eye, your suggestions, and your belief in me as a writer.

  And, finally, to Carmen Johnson, my amazing editor who fell in love with Emma’s story and also believed in me as a writer. One day, I’d love to share some chocolate with you and celebrate our success!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Steena Holmes is the author of two previous novels, Chocolate Reality and Finding Emma. Holmes enjoys writing stories that other mothers of young children can relate to. She currently lives in Calgary with her husband and three daughters.