Emma's Secret Read online

  Jack’s arms reached down, and he gathered his angel close. He rubbed his cheek against her hair and inhaled a soft vanilla scent. If he died right now, he’d die a happy man, ready to see his Dottie and let her know their girl was all right.

  “Papa! I missed you so much!” Emmie’s face lifted, and the smile that beamed from cheek to cheek warmed his cold heart. Just her smile seemed to wake him up inside, filling him with hope. With love.

  Jack knelt down but didn’t release his hold on his baby girl. Instead, he gathered her closer and lifted her up, not caring about the stress on his back. She felt lighter in his arms than he remembered, and that worried him.

  “Emmie-mine, what are you doing here? Where are your parents?” He lifted his eyes from her piercing gaze to scan the room. Surely, her parents had to be here somewhere, and no doubt they would not be pleased to see her in his arms. He knew he wouldn’t be if the situation were reversed.

  Emmie twisted in his arms and pointed to the lone man standing across the room with a shocked look on his face. “I’m on a date with my daddy. He bought me a chocolate donut with sprinkles. Come see, Papa.” Her eyes suddenly widened, and she pointed down to the floor. “Oh, no, I dropped my donut,” she whispered.

  Jack gave the woman at the counter a slight nod. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll get you another one. Don’t worry.” He stroked her back in tiny circles and reminded himself to remember this, having her in his arms once again. He had a feeling the moment he let go, he’d lose her all over again.

  Knowing it was the right thing to do, Jack walked toward Emmie’s father. The hesitation in his steps must have been evident, but there was nothing he could do about that. Watching her walk away the last time had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and having to do it again wouldn’t make it any easier.

  “Daddy”—Emmie twisted in his arms—“now Papa can be on our date too!” Her voice sang with happiness.

  Jack saw the look in her father’s eyes and knew the feeling was not mutual. He didn’t blame him. Jack cleared his throat but the words wouldn’t come.

  Someone else cleared his throat as well.

  “Jack?”

  He turned to find Doug standing beside him.

  “Is this…?”

  Jack nodded. “This is my Emmie girl,” he managed to whisper past the large rock lodged in his throat. He was not going to cry. Not here. Not now. Not with his girl in his arms and her father looking on.

  Doug nodded and smiled. “Well, sweetheart, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your grandpa sure has missed you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jack turned toward Emmie’s father and sighed. He hated to let her go, but he knew he had to. He wasn’t sure how, though. His arms refused to unlock from around her small frame.

  “Come sit down, Papa.” Emmie wiggled against him. She held tight to his hand, not letting him go as she dragged him over to the table where her father stood.

  “This is the best date ever, Daddy! I can’t believe that Papa is here, in our donut shop! I’m so excited!” She chattered away as the two men stood still, eyeing each other before they both sat down in unison.

  Both men remained silent while Emmie babbled, picking at the sprinkles on the new donut that the waitress brought to her. She didn’t seem to notice their silence. Jack listened to his girl talk, drinking in the sound of her voice as she described how Daisy had grown. He expected the little pup he’d picked up for Emmie to be almost full-sized now, although, seeing how it had been the runt of the litter, he didn’t expect the dog to be too big.

  Jack didn’t fail to notice the way her father suddenly reached his hand across the table and waited for him to shake it; nor did he miss the way Emmie’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men as if she were waiting to see what would happen.

  “We were never introduced. I’m Peter.” A look filtered across his eyes that Jack understood all too well. “Emma’s father.”

  Jack gripped the man’s hand and was assured of the strength in the grip.

  “Jack.”

  Emmie shook her head. “No, he’s Papa.”

  Jack smiled at her, his features softening as he was mesmerized by the bright sheen to her eyes. “To you, I’m Papa. But to everyone else, I’m Jack.”

  Emmie cocked her head. “Like how I’m Emmie to you, but everyone else calls me Emma?”

  “That’s because your name is Emma,” Peter confirmed.

  Jack nodded as the truth of what Dottie and he had done hit him square in the face again. “Do you remember when I first met you?” He wasn’t sure if she’d remember that far back, or if her mind had blocked those first few months, like he’d been told might happen.

  Emmie’s face scrunched up. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved as if she were talking to herself. “I remember you gave me a balloon.”

  Jack’s eyes misted at that memory. He’d found a bag of balloons in one of their junk drawers while Dottie had been out that day. Emmie looked so scared and alone, and all he could remember was how much Mary had liked balloons as a little girl.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Peter’s back straightening and the tightening grip on his coffee cup. Jack nodded, as if to assure him that he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt their little girl. He could only pray that Peter believed him.

  Jack lowered his voice. “Do you remember what happened before I gave you the balloon?”

  Emmie shook her head.

  Jack made sure he added a smile to his voice. This was just like when he’d read her a story at night. Sometimes he’d tell her stories of his daughter Mary, and sometimes he’d tell her stories of when she first came to stay with them. “Well, you were holding on to Grandma’s hand real tight. You were such a brave little girl, though.” He quickly glanced at Peter to gauge his reaction. Peter’s lips thinned at the word “Grandma,” but when he saw Jack’s penetrating look, he gave a slight dip of his head. Jack took that as acceptance and continued.

  “You were so quiet, and you were holding on to your stuffed animal so tight. I asked you what your name was, and you whispered it so quietly that I could barely hear. But I think Tiger knew I couldn’t hear, because you whispered your name again into its ear and then held it up high to whisper in mine. Do you remember that?” Jack waited as Emmie bit her lip.

  “I think so,” she said. She glanced up at Peter. “Papa knows that Tiger is really a lion, so it’s okay, Daddy.”

  Jack smiled. Apparently, they’d had the same discussion. Dottie tried to get Emmie to change the lion’s name to something other than Tiger, but Emmie wouldn’t have it. The girl could be so stubborn at times, just like…

  He pushed the thought out of his mind. He’d never stop grieving the death of his child, but there was no sense bringing her into today’s conversation.

  “Well,” he continued, “Tiger whispered your name to me and all I heard was, ‘I’m me.’”

  Emmie shook her head. “That’s not what Tiger said.” She giggled as she sipped on the container of chocolate milk in front of her.

  Jack’s brow rose. “It’s not?”

  “Daddy, I wouldn’t say ‘I’m me,’ would I?” Emmie rested her elbow on the table and leaned her chin into the palm of her hand.

  Jack caught the way Peter cleared his throat. “Well, now, I’m not sure. Maybe Tiger heard you wrong?”

  Emmie glanced back at Jack. “Is that really what Tiger said?”

  Jack kept the smile off his face and nodded. “Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers. “That’s where we got the name Emmie. Sure is close to Emma, though, isn’t it? Must be my bad hearing.” Jack winked.

  “That’s okay. Right, Daddy?”

  There was a hint of hesitation in her voice, and Jack winced. She was too young to be worried about things like that. And it wasn’t fair of him to put her in that position. Her real name was Emma. Not Emmie. He caught the look on Peter’s face, as if he were trying to figure out how to resp
ond without hurting her feelings. It wasn’t right to put Peter in that position either.

  “Emma is a beautiful name. I think it’s the perfect name for a princess.” Jack reached for Emma’s hand and brought it to his lips. He laid a gentle kiss upon her palm, and she giggled.

  No matter what, she would always be his princess.

  Time stood still, and Peter had no idea what to say or how to react. A first for him. An image flashed in his mind of the first time he’d seen Jack.

  Peter had stood beside Megan, his arms encircling her waist in an attempt to keep her by his side. The screen door edged open, and Jack stepped through it. He was old and worn. Tears streaked down his face, and Peter could see the anguish in his eyes. He stared at them as if trying to tell them something, but whatever Jack had to say disappeared the moment Emma stepped out of the house.

  As soon as he saw her, he knew he’d recognize her anywhere. Her blonde hair, held in pigtails, framed a face that looked so much like Megan’s. His heart lurched. He didn’t expect this. He’d convinced himself that that day would be about accepting that Emma was really gone. After the way Detective Riley spoke to him on the phone, he’d been persuaded that this was the end to the small dream he’d held alive in his heart.

  When Detective Riley stopped them from running to Emma, it took everything inside Peter to stand still and allow the older man to say his good-byes. Peter would never forget his voice, the gruffness and loss the man struggled to mask. It hurt his heart to have the other man’s arms around his daughter, to see him place a kiss upon her forehead. He wanted to lash out, to protect his daughter the way he should have two years ago. But the look in Emma’s eyes stopped him. She loved the older man.

  Peter turned his gaze to Emma and Jack. He knew if Megan was here she’d have picked Emma up and taken her out of the store and back home within a heartbeat. And that had been his first reaction when Emma screamed.

  But it was the way she locked onto the older man and the smile on her face that had stopped him from reacting and set him instead to observing. She had actually laughed. It was a sound he wasn’t about to forget. For the first time since they’d brought her home, his daughter was happy, content. At peace.

  Maybe Jack wasn’t the monster they had made him out to be. Emma certainly didn’t think so, and he trusted her judgment, even if she was only five years old. He knew all about Stockholm syndrome, had read books on it late at night while the kids were in bed, but he didn’t think this was the case with Emma. They had never harmed or tortured her. And as far as he knew, Jack honestly had thought this was his granddaughter. The monster was Dorothy, his wife—but then, she was also a victim.

  It was hard to stay angry with someone who loved your child almost as much as you did. His gut wrenched. He never thought of Jack and Dottie in that way. It was easier to paint them into evil villains who stole his child. He didn’t want to think of them as real people who were important to his daughter.

  But the way Emma glowed told Peter he needed to start.

  “What if you had a special nickname?”

  Peter wasn’t sure where that came from or why he even suggested it, but it seemed like a good compromise. Emma cocked her head and smiled. Her fingers tapped against her lips for a moment or two. He could see the wheels turn in her mind. She wanted to please both of them but knew, even at her young age, that it was a precarious position.

  She leaned over, cupped her hands over her mouth, and whispered into his ear, “Can it be Em?”

  Peter stared into Emma’s eyes and thought about it. Em would be acceptable and easy to remember. Em was even what Kathy, Emma’s counselor, had suggested when they discussed Emma’s trying to combine both of her lives into one. Em would be a sign that she didn’t have to choose after all.

  Peter winked and gave her the thumbs-up. She giggled and then leaned over to Jack and whispered into his ear.

  “Well, now”—Jack cleared his throat—“I think that is a good nickname. And easy for my old brain to remember.” He patted her hand as he visibly struggled to swallow.

  This wasn’t easy on him. Peter tried to put himself in Jack’s shoes, to understand the man a little more. He’d lost his wife and the child he thought was his granddaughter all at the same time, while also having to deal with the consequences of his wife’s actions. The publicity surrounding Emma’s return and Dorothy’s death had to have taken a toll on the man.

  Peter glanced at the table where the other two men sat hunched over their coffees, neither one saying a word. The man who spoke to Emma earlier watched them.

  “Those men…” Peter nodded toward the table.

  Jack grunted. “Don’t mind them. They’re harmless. Doug is the one watching us, and then there’s Kenny.”

  “Are those your boys?” Emma piped up. She waved at the men before taking another bite of her donut. “Grandma says Papa only comes to town to be with his boys, and when he’s with them, all he thinks about is—”

  “Hush now, child,” Jack quickly interrupted. “Your grandma’s words don’t bear repeating.”

  Peter had to smile when Jack’s lips quirked, and he shrugged his shoulders. He took another sip of his coffee and realized it was gone. He knew what he was about to do was going to be difficult, but he needed to head into work, and Megan would be waiting for them by now. They’d stayed longer than he’d thought they would.

  He reached across and placed his hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Em, honey, it’s time to leave.”

  Her whole body stilled before she lifted her tear-filled eyes to him. “Do we have to?” she whispered.

  Those four words hurt him more than a jab to the heart would have. He didn’t miss the way Jack straightened in the chair across from him; nor did he miss the way Emma leaned into Jack until she rested against his arm.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Peter tried to smile, but he doubted it worked. “Your mom is probably waiting for us at home, and I need to get to the office.”

  Her head dropped, and she fiddled with her hands, which had fallen into her lap. Peter glanced over at Jack’s friends and then back at the older man. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing for him to do.

  Having Emma return to them was a dream come true, an answer to a prayer—except the little girl who returned was more like Emmie than Emma, and it was something neither he nor Megan wanted to accept. In the beginning, he’d agreed with Megan that immersing Emma back into their family dynamic was the right decision and that removing Jack from her life was for the best.

  But what if that time had changed? What if it really was in Emma’s best interest to have Jack back in her life? Who were they to tear apart their daughter’s heart like that? He knew Megan would disagree. But maybe it was time for them to put their daughter’s happiness first.

  Emma sat quietly by Jack’s side. Peter knew this was breaking her heart, having to leave Jack again, just like he knew it was tearing Jack apart to let it happen.

  “Do you come here for coffee often?” Peter struggled to keep his tone neutral.

  When Jack managed to tear his gaze from Emma, Peter’s breath caught at the dimmed look in the older man’s eyes.

  “Every day. It’s the only way I can keep an eye on the boys without them ransacking my house.” His voice strengthened as he stared at Peter. “Every morning at this time.”

  Emma raised her head but kept her gaze downward. She reached up and grabbed hold of her drink container.

  Peter cleared this throat. “I normally drop by for a cup a few days a week.”

  The light in Jack’s eyes brightened. “Maybe I’ll see you then,” Jack said.

  Peter gave a slight nod. It was the best he could do for now. He was going to have to figure out a way to bring Emma with him now and then without raising Megan’s suspicions or making Hannah or Alexis jealous. He also knew that a phone call to Detective Riley would be required to see if Emma seeing Jack was even something that could legally happen given the rest
rictions that had been put on the older man once Emma had been found.

  “Papa?” Emma’s voice held a tentative note to it.

  Jack leaned over and placed his arms around her. “Yes, princess?”

  “I have pictures for you. Lots and lots. Daddy has one in his briefcase that we were going to mail.”

  Peter had completely forgotten about that picture. He lifted his bag onto the table, opened it, pulled out the envelope, and handed it to his daughter.

  “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you, Papa, not like…not like your own little girl. I’ll always draw you pictures and write you letters, I promise.” Emma reached her little arms up and wrapped them around Jack’s neck.

  Peter glanced away briefly; the feeling that he’d intruded upon a moment he wasn’t part of hit him hard. His youngest daughter, despite everything she’d gone through, had grown up a lot in the two years she’d been away from them. She accepted life more easily than he could have.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ll never forget. My Mary never did either. Sometimes life gets in the way and makes it hard to keep our promises. But I’ll always love you. Always. That’s one promise I’ll never break.” Jack kissed the top of her head before he unhooked Emma’s arms and pulled back. “Now, scoot. Your mama is waiting for you, and I need to head back to the farmhouse. I’ve got some rosebushes that need pruning.” Jack held the envelope in his hands. “I’ll open this tonight before bed, okay?”

  Emma held up her hand, and then curled her fingers into her palm while keeping her pinkie up high. “Pinkie promise, Papa?”

  Peter’s lips curled into a small grin as Jack struggled to keep the smile off his face. Emma had a way of wrapping people around her little finger.

  “Pinkie promise.”

  Peter stood up from the table and waited for both Jack and Emma to do the same. Before he had a chance to take Emma’s hand, she’d launched herself at Jack again and whispered into his ear. A small pang of jealousy took root in Peter’s heart at the carefree way Emma responded to Jack. He wanted that with her. One day he would have it. He reached across and held out his hand. Once the older man gripped it, Peter squeezed tight.