Emma's Secret (9 page)

Peter bent down and scooped Emma up in his arms. He’d forgotten she said she’d never been inside the store before. “No, silly. But you can choose one donut to eat now and six others that we can take home and share with your sisters.”

Emma entwined her hands around his neck and squeezed tight. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered into his ear.

Peter tightened his hold on her. For two years, he’d ached to hear those words, words he never thought he’d hear again from his youngest daughter. It almost killed him to know Megan might have had their baby girl in her sights and that he had refused to believe it was possible. “I love you more,” he whispered back.

They waited for an older man at the counter to grab his tray and slowly shuffle his way to the side, where he waited for his coffee. He glanced behind him and nodded his head in greeting to Emma.
Emma only smiled and burrowed her head into the crook of Peter’s neck.

“Good morning,” the woman at the front counter greeted them when it was their turn.

Peter ordered his black coffee and asked Emma to choose a muffin for him. He normally preferred eggs in the morning and had thought they’d go to a restaurant where he could order a real breakfast, but since this was Emma’s date, he agreed. Emma glanced at the rows of muffins and donuts behind the counter, and Peter could see the anxiety well up inside of her as her body stiffened. The woman behind the counter must have noticed as well, as she began to rattle off the different varieties to Emma, who visibly relaxed. He should have given her some options to choose from instead of assuming she would know what he’d want.

“Do you like apple cinnamon, Daddy? Or would you like blueberry bran?” Emma gazed up at him, her brows knit together as if it were the most important decision in the entire world.

Peter smiled at her. “I think I’m in the mood for…”

“Apples!” Emma finished his sentence with a nod. “Apple cinnamon, please,” she asked the woman behind the counter, who grinned as she chose the largest muffin and placed it on a plate.

“Now, what about you? Would you like a donut or a muffin?” If Emma was anything like her sisters, she would go for the donut. Didn’t most little kids?

Emma’s forehead bunched up as she shook her head. “Muffins are healthy, right?”

Peter shrugged. Really, there was little difference between muffins and donuts. Both were full of sugar. “Today’s a special date, so you can get whatever you like.”

Emma tapped her lips with her finger as she thought about her choices.

“I have some yogurt fruit cups if you’d like to try one of those too?” The woman at the counter pointed to the display case directly in front of them. There was a row of cups half-filled with yogurt and topped with fresh fruit. Emma’s eyes lit up. Peter remembered Megan complaining about the large amounts of yogurt she went through during the week, thanks to Emma. Peter nodded and held up two fingers, indicating he’d have one as well.

“Do you want a chocolate-dipped donut or strawberry-filled?” Peter whispered in Emma’s ear.

Emma glanced at the two choices and then whispered back, “You choose.”

Peter smiled. “Close your eyes. It’ll be a surprise.”

He waited for her not only to close her eyes but also to cover them as well with her hands. He then pointed to a chocolate-dipped donut with pink sprinkles on top. The woman set the donut on a plate and placed a container of chocolate milk next to it on a tray. Peter tapped Emma on the shoulder.

“You can look now.”

Her tiny squeal of delight was proof enough that he’d made the right choice.

He set Emma down on the ground and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. Emma grabbed the plate holding her donut. “Why don’t you go choose a table for us?” he suggested. He quickly glanced around the nearly empty store. In the far corner sat two older men.

He expected Emma to choose the farthest table from the men, and was surprised when she chose the table next to them. He instead placed the tray on a table a few feet away, to give both the men and themselves some privacy, and called Emma over.

Except she stood there in the middle of the store and didn’t hear him. Her back was to him as she faced a man who’d just walked out of the washroom. An older man who looked oddly familiar.

The plate Emma held in her hands dropped to the floor as she screamed.

O
ctober 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 best 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 when I don’t remember than days when 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.

Jack pushed open the restroom door with his elbow and wiped his hands on his pants. He grimaced in disgust at the wet marks along the sides of his legs.

“Papa!”

Jack’s head shot up. Emmie’s voice filled the store as she shouted his name again.

“Papa!”

He had to be hallucinating. There was no way Emmie would be here. Maybe he was having a heart attack and this was his punishment in purgatory—hearing his girl call out to him.

Except why would he feel her tiny arms wrapped around his leg, squeezing tighter than the fist in his heart?

When he glanced down, he saw a little piece of heaven in her crystal-clear blue eyes. Her hair was longer and curled only at the ends, and she seemed a bit more grown-up than the last time he saw her. A little wiser around the eyes. But she was still his baby girl. His Emmie.

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.