Emma's Secret Page 5

  “Hey, Dad?” Alexis unplugged her earphones. “When can we go golfing?”

  “Soon, hon. I promise.”

  “You said that last time I asked.” A pout formed on her face. “You’re never going to take me, are you?”

  Peter shook his head. “What? Of course I am.”

  “When?”

  He wasn’t sure he liked her tone or the defiant look in her eyes.

  “You promised once school was over. You even said you’d take some afternoons off and we could go out, just you and me.”

  She was right. He did promise that.

  “Let me see what I can do to rearrange some meetings, okay?”

  She must have been trying to read the honesty in his eyes, because she didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she nodded and put the earphones back in before giving him the thumbs-up.

  Okay, then. He returned the gesture and blew her another kiss good night before walking to Hannah’s door. He knocked softly, and when she called out to him, he peeked inside.

  “Hey, I love you,” he said as he watched her fluff her pillows behind her head. The beaming smile on her face lit his heart.

  “I love you, too, Dad. It was nice to have you home tonight.”

  The honesty in her gaze hit him hard. He stepped into the room and sat on the edge of her bed. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss. She giggled, and it brought him back to when she was only a little girl, maybe three years old, who loved pretending she was a princess.

  “You’ll always be my little princess, you know.” She was growing up so fast.

  Her head tilted to the side as she gazed at him.

  “What are you thinking?” He gently squeezed her hand.

  She fiddled with her blanket. “Just wondering if you’re happy.” She dropped her gaze.

  Peter rubbed his chin as he thought about her remark. Was he happy?

  “Right here, right now, I’m more than happy, love. Do you know why?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  Peter leaned forward. “Because I’m with you.”

  He wasn’t prepared for her leap as she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight.

  “I love you, Daddy,” Hannah whispered in his ear. Peter stroked her hair and tried to speak through the lump in his throat. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it.

  “I love you more, princess. I love you more.”

  Closing Hannah’s door behind him, Peter checked the message on his phone.

  I’ve given a lot of thought to what’s been happening. We need to talk.

  Peter hesitated for a moment. This is not the time. Can’t it wait? He waited for her response. But it was the sound of Emma’s quiet voice that forced him to replace the phone in his pocket and move forward.

  He knew what Samantha wanted to talk about, but it wasn’t a topic for tonight.

  Peter pushed any thoughts of Sam out of his mind the moment he stood at Emma’s door. He still couldn’t believe she was home. There had been so many sleepless nights when he’d find himself in Emma’s room, trying to remember her laughter. He’d almost forgotten. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? He had forgotten. And for some reason, he had a feeling Emma knew he had.

  “What are you drawing?” He sat on her bed while she still lay on the floor.

  If there was one thing he was learning about his youngest daughter, it was that she loved to draw. Megan had bought a folder last week for all the pictures she’d drawn, and every night when he came home late from work, he’d find something special from Emma on his desk. He liked to consider them her letters to him. Almost like the journal he’d kept for her while she’d been missing.

  “A picture for Mommy.”

  He leaned down to look at her picture and smiled. Megan, a woman who hated to wear dresses, was dressed in a bright-red dress with a yellow apron. Emma stood beside her holding a very large circle in her hands.

  “What’s that circle?”

  Emma looked at him over her shoulder. “A cookie.”

  His brow rose. “That’s one big cookie. Sure hope you saved some for me.”

  She reached for another crayon and started to print in the corner, I am, before she stopped and looked at him again. “How do you spell ‘sorry’?”

  Peter spelled it out for her, watching her carefully form the letters across the page.

  “What are you sorry for, Emma?” He couldn’t think of any reason she would need to apologize to Megan.

  Emma didn’t answer. Instead, she carefully took each crayon scattered around her and returned them back to the container.

  “I hurt Mommy’s feelings,” she finally whispered.

  Peter’s body wilted at her words. He waited for her to finish cleaning up, but the moment she stood, he gathered her into his arms and lifted her up onto his lap. Daisy jumped up beside them.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” He pulled her close until her back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. Tendrils of her hair tickled his chin as she shook her head.

  Peter rested his chin on the top of her head. “Did you eat all the chocolate chips that were supposed to go in the cookies today?”

  Emma shook her head again.

  “Did you eat all the cookies and forget to leave her one?” He made sure there was a lighthearted tone to his voice.

  She shook her head again, but this time she looked back at him.

  Peter lifted his shoulders up high and then dropped them down. “I don’t know what you would have done, then, to make her sad.”

  Emma’s bottom lip protruded before she lowered her gaze and snuggled back close to his chest. Peter tightened his arms around her.

  “I miss Grandma.”

  Peter’s heart crumbled inside his chest. It wasn’t the words that hurt, but the way she spoke them. As if he would be angry with her.

  “I’m sure you do, honey. She was very special to you, wasn’t she?”

  Emma didn’t respond. It didn’t take much for Peter to realize what might have happened today.

  “Did you used to make cookies with…her?”

  Emma nodded. “And muffins, bread, cakes. She let me break the eggs too.” She squirmed in his arms until he loosened his hold on her.

  “Breaking those eggs can be pretty tricky. You must be really good at that.”

  Emma’s head bobbed up and down. “But Mommy didn’t let me do the eggs today.”

  Peter tilted his head. “Does Mommy know how awesome you are at breaking eggs?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “Then I guess we’d better tell her, huh? I happen to know that’s her least favorite part of baking. Did you know that?”

  Emma’s eyes widened at the news.

  “Yep.” Peter nodded. “She always gets pieces of shells in the batter, and I always end up eating them. Have you ever eaten an eggshell?” Emma shook her head. “Trust me, it doesn’t taste good.”

  “I can do it, Daddy.” Emma leaned back and straightened her shoulders.

  “I know you can, honey. Of that I have no doubt. Now, how about we get you and Daisy all tucked into bed before Mommy comes home, okay?” He lifted her off his lap and stood. Emma scampered under the covers and then straightened the small blanket that Daisy slept on. It was their one condition for the dog sleeping with Emma: never under the covers and always on top of the blanket.

  Peter reached for her lion and stroked its fluffy mane. Emma reached out her hands. “Can I have Tiger, please, Daddy?” He loved the fact that this was still her favorite stuffed animal. He’d bought it for her the day she was born. When she’d first disappeared, Peter was able to find a little bit of comfort knowing that the lion was with her.

  “You know this is really a lion, right?” He winked at her.

  Emma shrugged. “I know.” She tucked her lion beside her, beneath the covers.

  Peter picked up Emma’s clothes from the floor and dropped them into her hamper. The clos
et door stood open, and he couldn’t help but notice the pile of clothes on the floor. The other day, Megan had mentioned that Emma’s room was always so neat. She must not have seen her closet.

  “Emma, why are all these clothes on the floor?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw a flash of anger on his daughter’s face. Anger?

  “I don’t like them.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

  Peter knelt down and picked up a shirt from the pile. “But this is a nice top your mommy bought you. What’s wrong with it?”

  She gave him a look he would have expected from Alexis. “I like dresses. I feel pretty in them.”

  Peter dropped the shirt and picked up a skirt. “Will you wear a skirt then?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “Why not?” Peter reached for another top in the pile and stood. He paired the two together and held them up for Emma to see. “It’s just a dress cut in half.”

  Emma frowned as she glanced from the outfit in his hands to the dresses hanging in her closet.

  Peter reached for a hanger with two clips on the bottom. He struggled to clip the skirt onto it before adding the shirt on top, pushed some dresses aside, and hung it in the middle.

  “I remember Mommy coming home with bags and bags of clothes for you. Don’t you? She was so excited to buy you new clothes and couldn’t wait to see them on you. How about if you try to wear one new outfit for Mommy?”

  Emma’s eyes widened. He knew she was about to panic. She clutched the blanket in her hands, and her nose flared as she tried to breathe.

  “Not every day, Emma. How about…” Peter tried to think of a day when they had nothing going on. “Sundays? How about on Sundays you try to wear something Mommy bought you? The rest of the time it can be one of your dresses.” He didn’t like seeing Emma this way. Even now, two months later, that woman still had a hold over Emma. He felt helpless.

  It wasn’t until Emma released her grip on the blanket that Peter relaxed. And when she nodded her head in acceptance, he struggled to keep the smile off his face. It was a step in the right direction, at least. He sat back down on the bed and put both of his arms on either side of Emma’s legs. He waited for her to lie back on the pillows before he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

  “I love you, Emma.” There was so much more he wanted to say. Like how she was the glue that put him back together, and that every time she smiled at him, his heart melted. That all he wanted was for her to be happy and loved, and he would do anything, anything to make sure she was always happy. But he couldn’t say it. He didn’t know how to say it.

  But when she reached up and touched his cheek, he knew that she already knew the words he couldn’t say. He patted the dog gently before leaving the room. He switched off the light and was about to close her door when she called out.

  “Daddy?”

  He turned the light back on.

  “I made a picture for Papa today. I think he misses me.”

  Peter leaned against the doorframe.

  “Could you give it to him?”

  He wanted to say no. But when he saw the look in Emma’s eyes, he realized that was the last thing he could say to his daughter.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you and I go out for breakfast tomorrow and on our way home, we can drop it off at the mailbox.”

  When her eyes lit up, he knew he’d just said the right thing.

  “Really, Daddy? A date, just you and me?”

  Peter winked. “Just you and me, kiddo.” He should have done that a long time ago.

  “Daddy? Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making Papa happy. I know he misses me, and my letter will cheer him up.”

  Peter could only nod. He didn’t really want to think about Jack. He honestly didn’t care about what would make the old man happy. But the light in his daughter’s eyes told him it made her happy, and that was all that mattered.

  Even if it meant making his wife angry.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated once again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Megan thought she’d given herself enough time to make some stops along the way and still arrive before Laurie. She always used to come to Brewster’s Bakery for her morning coffee after dropping the girls off at school, until the Safe Walks program took up more of her time. As the school year ended and after Emma was found, well, she’d kind of preferred to stay close to home.

  She opened the door and the bell above it jingled. She immediately looked down to see whether Shelly Belle was there. Sure enough, the old dachshund raised her head and huffed. Megan bent down and scratched the dog’s big ears and then glanced up at framed photos of Jan’s three dachshunds when they were all young—her babies. Two had died in the last few years, and Megan worried about what Jan would do when Shelly died too.

  Megan couldn’t stop the smile that grew when she thought of Jan Brewster, the owner of the shop who’d helped to raise funds when Emma first went missing.

  During those first few weeks, Megan had lived in a perpetual fog. Jan had come to her rescue. First, she’d brought over treats like chocolate croissants or almond scones, coaxing Megan back into the land of the living. Then, she started leaving pamphlets about organizations for missing children in Megan’s mailbox. It took one brainstorming session over coffee and cookies to come up with a plan beyond the local authorities’ to ensure that Emma’s photo was plastered everywhere. Jan was the driving force, and set up the fund-raising barbecue in the town square. Megan would forever be in Jan’s debt.

  She dropped her purse at the corner table and headed to the counter. She smiled as she heard the slight shuffling behind her. On the corner of the counter, Jan kept a basket of homemade dog treats for Shelly Belle. She put out only a few each day, but it quickly became a favorite thing for customers to do. Megan picked out a flower-shaped treat, turned on her heels, and waited for Shelly to sit before offering her the treat.

  “Well, good morning, darlin’.” Jan pushed open the swinging door from the kitchen, holding a tray of fresh muffins. Megan leaned over the counter to see what type Jan had made. Today was her lucky day—banana nut, her favorite.

  “These look delicious.” She inhaled the sweet smell.

  Jan smiled as she set the tray down. “They taste good too.” She poured coffee into two mugs and placed a small plate on the counter.

  Megan picked a muffin and headed over to a table.

  “It’s been a long time since you joined me for morning coffee. I’ve missed you.” Jan lowered herself into a chair and sighed.

  Megan glanced around the bakery. The place was homey. The walls were lined with shelves of wooden birdhouses and pictures of people and events special to Jan. One of Megan’s favorite photos was a shot of a cloudy sky over the lake. The way the wind had blown the clouds and the way the light shone through them made it look like angels’ wings in the sky. Seeing it always calmed her.

  “I’ve missed you too.” Megan smiled and briefly touched Jan’s hand.

  The moment Megan had met Jan, there was a connection. It had been more than five years ago on a cold winter night in the town park. The locals had been putting on a nativity play, and Jan was passing out Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. Seeing that she was shorthanded, Megan had offered to help. The day after the play, Jan showed up at Megan’s door with a basket full of freshly baked muffins as a thank-you. They’d been friends ever since.

  “Where’re the girls?”

  Megan leaned back in her chair. “I have the morning off. Hannah and Alexis are with friends for the day, and Peter took Emma out on a date.”

  Jean’s brow rose. “On a workday?”

  Megan nodded. “For breakfast and coffee before he heads in to work. He took her to the donut shop down the road. It’ll be good for them. Peter has had a hard time figuring out how to deal with Emma. She’s not the little girl we knew before everything happened.”

  Jan leaned forward and placed her elbows on the tabl
e. “Of course she’s not. She grew up without your influence in her life.”

  Megan shrugged. “Right. Someone else raised her, read her stories at night, and taught her how to bake.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head. There was no sense dwelling on it. She couldn’t change things.

  Jan leaned back, her eyes full of pity. “You need to learn to forgive them, honey.”

  Megan shook her head. “No, I don’t. What I need to do is learn to let it go and move on. I know that. It’s just hard sometimes.”

  Jan snapped her fingers and waited as Shelly Belle trotted over and sat at her feet. “You know, when my other babies died, I was mad. Mad at God for taking my babies away from me, even though I knew they were old and ready to rest. But that didn’t matter. What I knew in my head and what I felt in my heart were two very different things. I convinced myself that the only person my feelings were affecting was me. But I was wrong.” A low groan came from the floor. “Poor Shelly Belle was affected as well. She’d just lost her family, and instead of being there for her to help her deal with her loss, I took it out on her.” Jan shook her head as a tear welled in her eye. “Oh, I wasn’t mean or anything, but I didn’t show her as much love as I could have.”

  Megan broke off bits her muffin and cast her eyes downward, thinking about Jan’s words. “I do love my children.” Her voice lacked conviction, because she understood exactly what Jan was saying.

  “No one doubts how much you love your girls. But, honey, you need to learn to love yourself too.”

  Megan sighed deeply. “And how do you do that? My girls mean the world to me. They are my everything. How exactly do I put myself first without losing that?”

  The bell above the door jingled. Without glancing behind her, Jan stood up and laid her hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Honey, the only babies I ever raised were my pups, so I can’t tell you how to parent. But I can tell you that the first step to loving yourself is learning how to forgive yourself.”