[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack Page 3

  But when I came back downstairs, Doug left to chop some wood for us and I had Mary help me get dinner started. She was the one to start the conversation. Do you want to know what her first words were?

  “At least we know Daddy got our letters and pictures. He knew we loved him, right?”

  You knew, right? How much we loved you and missed you? How much we wanted you to come home? How proud of you we were?

  It’s hard for me to write in the past tense. Loved. Missed. I still love you Jack. I still miss you. I still want you to come home and I’m still proud of you. So very proud of the man you are. That will never change. That will never go away.

  I’m not sure how I can go on, now knowing you won’t ever come home. How am I supposed to sleep tonight, knowing your hands will never hold mine again, that your body will never snuggle up to me and keep me warm in the middle of the night?

  I hope you don’t expect me to turn out like the women in town, needy and looking for support any way they can? You were my family, there’s no one else to run to. No one who can help me out. No one but myself to ensure I remain strong. No one else to hold me up when all I want to do is fall apart. No one else to make sure Mary grows up to be a strong woman.

  I love you Jack, but I’ll be honest, there’s a part of me that hates you too. I’m mad. Angry. Angry that you would leave us to fight a war that didn’t affect us. Furious that you would put your own pride above the needs of your family — above me and Mary. Couldn’t you see that we needed you more than they did? Let someone else fight in your place. That’s what I should have said to you before you left. I should have fought harder to keep you home.

  You broke your promise to me. And I want to hate you for that.

  Except, I can’t.

  It’s not your fault that you had to break your promise. I can’t blame you for another man’s actions. Jonathan didn’t know how you died, just that you didn’t return with your squadron after a routine walkabout. Whatever that means. How can a walkabout in enemy territory be routine?

  I’m not ready to accept that you’re never coming home to me. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be ready to accept that.

  I’m not willing to let go. Not yet.

  I love you Jack Henry.

  Dear Jack.

  Happy birthday!

  I know it doesn’t matter any more, but Mary and I have been planning what we would do to celebrate your birthday since last year and it was too hard to just sit at home and pretend this day never existed.

  First thing first. We made you your favorite cake and pie. Actually, if truth be told, Mary made the cake and I made the pie. German chocolate cake, along with a side of dutch apple pie with a bit of caramel. We left the cake and pie to cool on the counter and took off.

  One of Mary’s best memories of you is how you would take us on adventures every Sunday. It’s not something I’ve kept up but I’ll try to. Maybe not every weekend, but at least once a month. I let Mary choose all the turns and we ended up down a little side road west of Kinrich. We followed the trail as far as we could go and then climbed down. We found a quaint little private beach with no houses in sight.

  It’s really a beautiful place, Jack. You would have liked it. Even Mary said so. We haven’t said goodbye to you officially yet, and I’m not sure if we will. I’m not sure I ever can. I still stare down the road, waiting for the gust of dirt to billow behind a vehicle that I’m sure is bringing you home to me. Even though it’s never you, I keep praying that one day it will be.

  Mary and I dug our feet into the sand and relaxed. It was nice. She chattered away, telling me stories, asking me questions…I kept picturing you there with us, the smile on your face as you listened to her talk. We stayed there for about an hour. At one point, Mary fell asleep on the beach so I went and stood in the water, the stones beneath my feet, and I thought about you.

  That was one of Mary’s questions — if you were at the other end of the water. I told her you were, somewhere. She wanted to put a message in a bottle for you, something Doug had told her about, but I told her it wasn’t that kind of water. We needed to go to the ocean to do that, but that you would never find the bottle since you had died over there. She said that was okay, that maybe someone who knew you would find the bottle and put it on your grave.

  Jack, that girl of ours surprises me all the time. I can’t wait to see what kind of woman she grows up to be. I imagine she’ll be very compassionate but strong in character. I can see how her teenage years might be a bit trying, but hopefully she’ll be more like me and less like you in that regard.

  I wish you were here to watch her grow. She needs you. I’m thankful for Doug and for the stability he brings to Mary. But he’s not you. He’ll never be you.

  Your cake was delicious by-the-way. So was the pie. Best one I’ve made yet.

  Happy birthday husband.

  Dear Jack.

  I remember once saying I was never going to say goodbye to you.

  I was wrong. A wise man told me that.

  You.

  Doug pulled up today in his truck and hauled out a maple tree. The roots in it were good, strong. It’ll be a sturdy tree, able to withstand anything nature throws at it.

  I didn’t understand why he brought the tree until he handed me your letter.

  Jack…I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to know you wrote me a letter telling me how to say goodbye to you. The fact that you knew I would need this letter tells me that you knew you might have to break your promise to me. I slapped Doug when he first handed me the letter. It’s a natural reaction. It’s been almost eight months since I was first told you were missing, five months since he told me of the promise he made to you.

  I was angry with him for keeping this letter from me, but after reading it, I understood.

  You both know me better than I know myself.

  I love you Jack Douglas Henry. I have always loved you. Even when you made me mad. I will always love you. Even when the thought of saying goodbye to you means losing a part of myself, forever.

  I know you’ve asked me to stop waiting. To stop placing my life on hold. I know you want me to think about Mary and what is best for her. I know you don’t want me to think that I have to do it all myself.

  I know what you want. And I know you think you know what’s best for me. But Jack, I’ve changed. These two years have altered who I am at the core, more than I think we thought possible. I can almost hear you telling me how proud of me you are. I’m proud of myself too.

  One of the things you wished for in your letter was to know that Mary and I had a strong relationship. We do. You can rest easy on that if it’s still bothering you. She is a beautiful little girl and I love her. She’ll always be daddy’s little girl, but I can’t wait for her to be an adult and for us to be close. You hear about those mothers who say their daughter is their best friend — that’s what I want with Mary.

  We’ll plant your tree. And we’ll plant it exactly where you wanted it to grow. And yes, I’ll give myself permission to say goodbye. Because you asked. Because you know me better than I know myself and you knew I would need your permission, your approval to say goodbye.

  I love you Jack. I always will.

  Jack,

  It’s time for me to put away this journal. It’s been a little bit since I last wrote in here — there wasn’t much to write after I said goodbye to you. I have a new journal now that I write in, one that Doug gave me for my birthday.

  Doug — let’s talk about him, shall we?

  He’s sitting in your old chair right now. It’s a gorgeous Sunday evening. The leaves are all turning color, creating a bouquet of happiness as you once told me. I used to complain that fall meant an end to everything I loved, but you would correct me and say it was the beginning for creating new memories.

  In your letter to me, you told me that death isn’t the end of a journey, it’s just the crossroads for new decisions. I’d prefer not to deal with death, but if I must, sinc
e I must — I can only pray that the decisions I make are worthwhile.

  Mary has accepted your best friend as part of our family now. He’s a constant fixture. He still goes out and helps neighbours before work, but he comes here afterwards. He says it’s for the home cooked meals, but you and I both know it’s more. It’s about a promise.

  Doug asked me to marry him. Again.

  I haven’t said yes, yet. But I will. Tonight, after I’m finished writing this. I know you’ll never read the words, I know that you are gone from my life forever, but you were my best friend, my lover, my husband. You are the first one who deserves to know this — more than anyone else.

  I’ve had to think about why I’m going to say yes. I know why you want me to, but Jack, no matter what you’ve said, no matter what promises were made, ultimately, you’re not God and it’s not okay for you to expect things to happen the way you want them to.

  I’m not saying yes for you.

  I’m saying yes for Mary. If I say no, I can’t expect him to keep hanging around and taking care of us like he is. And Mary needs him in her life. She needs a father figure to love her and be there for her. I can’t take that away from her.

  I’m also saying yes for Doug. I know he loves me, but he loves you more. This was the last thing you asked of him and who am I to take that away from him? He feels like he’s failed you when it’s actually the opposite.

  I’m also going to say yes for me. I don’t like being alone. I don’t like having to rely on myself so much. And I’d miss him if he wasn’t here. I’ve grown to really care for him, even though I didn’t want to.

  I hope you will be happy for us Jack. I hope that you’re looking down on us with a smile on your face, knowing that the people you loved the most are going to be taking care of each other.

  I hope I’ve made the right decision.

  There’s a cloud of dust on the horizon. It’s been growing as I’ve sat here, writing you. Do you remember when I told you that I’ll watch for you? When I said that every time a car drove down our road, I prayed it was you? I still do that. I catch myself holding my breath until the vehicle can be seen. There’s always a little seed of disappointment, even today, when I see it’s Doug’s vehicle or when it’s someone else and they pass our house.

  I keep thinking that one day it will be you. I know that’ll never happen, not anymore, but old habits die hard.

  It’s time to say goodbye. I love you Jack. I will always love you. I promise to make sure that you will always be remembered. Mary will always bake you a cake for your birthday. I’ll always tell her stories from when she was smaller and you were here at home. Doug will tell her stories about you as a kid. We won’t forget you Jack. We’ll never forget you.

  Thank you, husband, for looking out for me. Thank you for doing your best to keep your promise to me even when you knew it wasn’t possible. I have to believe that when you died, you thought of me, of us, of our lives together. I have to think that you said I love you as you breathed your last breath.

  Calling you husband has been the greatest privilege of my life. I want you to know that. I will always cherish that. I will always be Dottie-mine.

  The vehicle has pulled into the driveway now. It’s hard to make it out, but I don’t recognize the car and neither does Doug. There’s someone in the passenger seat wearing a uniform. Maybe it’s Jonathan. I sent him a letter a little while ago thanking him for bringing your letters home and invited him to come visit. He seemed like a sweet kid, I can see why you took such a liking to him and took him under your wing. You had a good heart Jack Henry.

  Doug has gone down to meet whoever is in the vehicle. He’s aged. This war has been hard on him, even though he stayed behind. I hope that he’ll slow down, find others to help take care of the farms in his place. He works too hard. Cares too much. Holds too much responsibility on his shoulders. You’d be proud of him.

  He’s a good man and I’ll be happy with him. But then, you all ready knew that, didn’t you? When he comes back to the porch, I think I’ll hand him this journal and ask him to read this last page. He needs to know everything that is in my heart. He needs to know that you’ll always be first and foremost, but that he’ll have a place there too, beside you. I’m a lucky woman to be loved by two men such as you both.

  You know, it’s odd…but the man Doug is hugging looks an awful lot like you. It must be because of this letter. Because I’m thinking of you. Except, there’s a look on Doug’s face now that he’s looking at me, as he holds on to the man’s arm.

  Jack…is that you? My hands are shaking. No one is moving. I can hardly breathe. Is that you? Jack…

  THE END

  Thank you for reading Dear Jack...a Finding Emma novella.

  Dottie is a lady with a tremendous amount of strength and I hope that this little insight helped for you to understand her a little better. These letters were only a portion of one of Dottie’s Diaries and that last entry was the last entry for this particular journal.

  If you loved Finding Emma, be sure to check out “Emma’s Secret” now available!

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  Turn the page for a sneak peek look at Emma’s Secret.

  The following unedited excerpt is from Emma’s Secret. Please note that it is subject to change.

  The creak of the old wood rocker broke the silence that reigned. Jack knew he should turn on the radio so he wouldn't feel so alone, but there was something in the air tonight, a restlessness he couldn't quite understand.

  It was a night for memories.

  He let his head sink back until it rested on the worn chair and closed his eyes. Fairies danced before him, their lights flickering as they twirled in the air. Or so Emmie used to say. He could almost feel the weight of her body as if she had snuggled up in his lap, ready for a bedtime story. She'd curl up nice and close, her legs either tight underneath her or hanging loose over his knees as she rested in the crook of his arm. She'd help him turn the pages in the story, but first, they had to close their eyes and wait for the fairies to dance. The fairy lights were only her princess lights that he'd once spent hours tacking onto the wall, Christmas lights Dottie had unearthed from who knows were. But it made their little girl happy to have those lights in her room.

  Jack still came up here every night to read Emmie a bed time story. He didn't dare tell any of the boys. His head knew that she wasn't here anymore, but his heart, his feet...one moment he'd be down in the kitchen and the next he'd be opening her bedroom door to see if she was ready for bed. Seeing the empty bed covered with the stuffed animals that she didn't take with her, near broke his heart every time.

  He snuggled the floppy-eared bunny Emmie had given him on the day they had packed her suitcase closer, and sighed. He missed his girls so much, sometimes it physically hurt. Never would he have ever thought he could lose so much in so little time. He'd just started to grieve for his Mary, when Dottie collapsed and was taken to the hospital. He had to give up Emmie, only to have Dottie pass away in her sleep, oblivious to his pain and the turmoil her actions had caused.

  Or maybe she did know. Deep down, Jack suspected Dottie couldn't live with the guilt anymore. That was why she never woke up from her coma. That would be why, just moments before she breathed her last, she had squeezed his hand three times in succession. Her private goodbye, her final 'I love you'.

  He just wished he'd had the chance to say goodbye back. To tell her he loved her and that he understood why she did what she did. That didn't mean it was right, just that he understood. But Dottie had died before he understood her message.

  With a groan, Jack pus
hed himself up from the chair, his old bones cracking from the exertion. He headed over to Emmie's bed and laid the bunny down on the pillow, smoothing the fur as he did so. He knew it was silly and perhaps could be blamed on his old age, but he'd promised his little girl that he would take care of her bunny. He'd never broken a promise to Emmie and he wasn't about to start now, no matter how it looked.

  He thought about the half-written letter he'd left on the kitchen table. Did she even receive his letters? Did she know that he had planted a rose bush in his front garden just for her and that he'd cut the first bloom the other day?

  Probably not. He knew if he were in their shoes, the last thing he would do is allow his daughter to remain in contact with her kidnappers.

  Jack climbed down the stairs to make himself a cup of tea before bed. It was a heavy burden to carry, knowing that he'd been instrumental in tearing a family apart. He'd never forgive himself for that. He should have known from the beginning, when Emmie first came home with Dottie, that something was wrong. Just because he didn't, didn't make him innocent.

  "Oh, Dottie mine, you sure made a mess of things."

  Jack didn't like to be alone. While the stillness never bothered him, the silence did. He'd confessed to his doctor that he found it easier to talk to Dottie as if she were there with him, and he'd been half ready for the doctor to admit it was time to go into a nursing home. But the doctor only nodded and said that was normal. Normal, as though - as if talking to the dead was something he was used to hearing. Jack shook his head at the thought. Back in the day, if his daddy had started to talk to his momma after she'd passed away, everyone would have said he'd lost it and the only place for him was a home. But nowadays, it was “normal.”