Emma's Secret (24 page)

To my granddaughter,

Yes, I know you’re not even born yet and that you may turn out to be a boy, but I don’t think that will happen. Daughters have always
been the firstborn in our family, and there’s no reason why your mother’s child would be any different.

This journal is for you, from me. I’m older than I’d like to admit, and I know that I might not always be around to share stories or tidbits of wisdom with you. One day, maybe when you’re older, your mother will give you this journal and can explain to you why this is my keepsake for you. I hope your mother will read it first and realize just how much I love her.

You’ll be born into a world that is very different from the one I was born into, but we women have to stick together.

The moment your mother told me she was going to have a baby, I knew you were a gift from God. A second chance for this old woman to maybe do things a little bit differently. Maybe even this time to do it the right way.

Always listen to your mother, little one. While you might not always understand or agree with her decisions, trust me: She loves you more than life itself. That is the one gift all mothers can pass along—love.

Love forever,

Your grandmother

Jack’s eyes smarted as he laid the book back down in his lap. So there had been a grandchild. Dottie hadn’t been mistaken. A small seed of hope sprouted in Jack’s heart. Was it possible that Emmie was really his granddaughter after all?

He picked up the letter, noticing the sender. Mary. Offhand, he could recall only three letters coming from his daughter after she ran away, and they were all addressed to him.

He pulled the letter out and a vise squeezed around his heart. He missed his daughter more than he thought possible. In the past, there had always been a hope that she’d come home, that they could mend whatever broke them apart as a family. He’d thought the
silence for the past two years had been due to her stubbornness. Never once had he thought she’d been dead. Never once. Knowing for sure that she was dead, that he’d never see her again, never hear her voice…there was a finality about it that he couldn’t process. He should have been able to mourn her properly, with Dottie. Instead, he had to mourn both wife and daughter at the same time, and it wasn’t something he could handle. Not properly, anyway. It was no wonder his heart wasn’t doing very well. The grief, the sadness, they ate away at him day and night. The only bright spot in his day now was Emmie.

His vision blurred as he read over the letter from Mary to Dottie. He wanted to stop, to not let the words sink in, but he couldn’t. How could Dottie not tell him this? How could Mary keep this a secret from him? How could he not have known? Surely, there would have been signs? Clues? He checked the date and struggled to remember whether he’d visited Mary around that time. But he couldn’t remember. How could he not remember?

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry. I know you see this blanket, and I can only imagine the thoughts going through your head.

There’s only one way to say this. You were the one who taught me to “make it plain.” I gave birth to a beautiful little baby girl, but she came too early. Preterm is what they said. What they didn’t say was that it’s all my fault.

Can you keep this blanket and put it away for me? One day I’ll need it, even if it’s just to remember her by.

I named her Emily.

Before you say it, I know this was my fault. I tried. I really tried. But I’m not strong, not like you are. I didn’t think the drugs would do this. Or maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t want her enough to stop using
them. I don’t know. What I do know is that I gave in and she paid the price.

She was tiny. The nurses let me hold her. She would have fit in Dad’s hand. She had all her fingers and toes and a tiny little nose. She was perfect. And for once, I understood a little bit of what you told me, about that love. It’s been a while since I’ve said it, but I love you, Mom.

Please don’t be disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself as it is. And please, please don’t tell Dad. I know you promised not to tell him about my being pregnant until I was ready. I don’t ever want him to know now.

Mary

Jack read and reread the letter from his daughter to his wife. He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to break again, but he’d been wrong.

A line had formed outside Brewster’s Bakery that snaked around the corner. It was like this every week. Everyone wanted to take home Jan’s homemade cinnamon buns, and she made extra batches once a week. But once she sold out, that was it. There were always two lineups on days like this. One to order cinnamon buns only, and one for dine-in. Megan chose the dine-in line and almost stopped cold when the smell radiating from the open door hit her. She breathed in the sweet aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon buns as she made her way into the store.

“Well, hey there, sugar,” Jan called out as Megan wove her way around the crowded tables and wedged herself in until she found the last empty barstool in the far corner. She reached for the freshly
poured coffee Jan set down in front of her, buried her nose inside the cup, and breathed in deep.

“What is this?”

A large smile bloomed across Jan’s face.

“Caramel pecan pie. A new shipment came in with an assortment of flavored coffees. It’s my little piece of heaven.”

Megan glanced over her shoulder. “I think their little piece of heaven is your cinnamon buns.” She shook her head at the long line.

“How was the party yesterday?”

“Best day of Alexis’s life, or so she says. Emma got heatstroke, though; she’s home right now with Peter.” Megan knew worry lines creased her forehead. It was Peter’s idea that she go out for coffee this morning. She’d stayed by Emma’s side half the night. When she left her, the fever had broken and her daughter had been sleeping just fine. She glanced back at the line. “Have you thought about selling those buns in grocery stores?”

Jan shrugged. “No. But I was thinking of opening up another store in Hanton in the fall.”

Megan’s eyes widened as she sputtered the coffee she’d just sipped. She’d been bugging Jan for years to open another shop.

“Thought maybe you could help me?”

Megan thought about that for a moment before she shook her head. “I’m not sure I could handle driving to Hanton every day.” It was too far away from the girls.

“Not there. Here. You could help me manage this place.”

Megan wasn’t sure what to say. With the kids back in school in the fall, she wasn’t sure what she’d do with her time, and it would be nice to use her professional skills again. With a degree in business, she used to work beside Peter in the office, taking care of the day-to-day grind. But this was a huge change. More than just helping Peter
with the books or taking on a few more clients and working from home.

“Think about it; that’s all I ask.”

Megan nodded. She’d think about it. As Jan walked away, Megan glanced around the bakery and thought about what it would be like if she worked here. There would be long days with tired feet, but she knew there would also be a sense of accomplishment she didn’t have lately. Sure, when the walking program took off, that made Megan feel worthwhile, but it ran so smoothly now…so smoothly that she really wasn’t needed anymore.

She finished her cup of coffee and smiled when Jan set down a box of cinnamon buns and a to-go mug in front of her.

“Just think, you would get first dibs on all the baked goods…” Jan’s eyes twinkled as she waved Megan’s cash away.

“Bribery will get you nowhere with me.”

Mock surprise filled Jan’s eyes. “Who said I was bribing you? These are for Peter.”

Megan chuckled as she leaned forward and hugged her friend across the counter. She wove her way through the crowded tables and caught sight of Shelly Belle before bumping into someone. Megan held her to-go mug up high as it sloshed over the little opening in the hole.

“Sorry,” she said, before glancing up and realizing Riley stood in front of her. A slow flush crept along her neck as his hands gripped her upper arms to help steady her.

“Hey, um…I just left a message on your cell.” Riley sidestepped out of the way and brought her along with him.

“You did?” Megan furrowed her brow. Her phone hadn’t rung. She reached inside her purse for her phone, only to realize she’d left it at home to charge.

“If this is about you and Laurie…” She so did not want to talk about this. Not here. Not now, and especially not with him.

Riley scowled before shaking his head. “No, but, uh—”

Megan held up her one hand. “No. It’s okay. It’s cool. I was just caught by surprise. I had no idea about you and her.” Which hurt most of all. Out of every available woman in their small town he had to pick her best friend. Nothing like rubbing her poor judgment in her face. If whatever happened between him and Laurie became serious, how long would it take before the memory of their kiss faded away?

Riley sighed. “She was going to talk to you. Is going to talk to you. She, ah…” He gazed around hopelessly as he struggled to finish his sentence.

Megan swallowed her coffee and decided to take pity on him. She reached out and briefly touched his elbow.

“It’s okay.”

Relief eased the scowl on his face. “Good. Good. Listen.” He smiled at her. “I just wanted to let you know the restraining order against Jack has been lifted.”

Megan took a step back. What? What did he mean it had been lifted? That was the one concession she had made instead of insisting charges be brought against him. That man was to have no contact with Emma. She had let his first few letters pass through because Emma wanted to send him pictures, but he wasn’t to call her, see her, or anything else.

Riley must have seen the confusion on her face.

“I promised Peter I’d let him know once it was taken care of.”

Megan’s breath caught in her chest, constricting it until she saw tiny flashes of dark circles cloud her vision.
Oh my God
…

Peter. Peter had done this. Why? Emma’s request to Peter last night now made sense.

“Meg, are you okay?” Riley’s touch centered Megan, forcing her to let out the air stuck in her throat. She counted to five, breathing in deeply and releasing just as deeply, exactly like Kathy had told her to.

She forced a small smile onto her face.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be sure to…tell Peter.” She held up the bag containing the cinnamon buns. “I’d better get these back to the house while they’re still warm. Thanks.”

She pushed past Riley, ignoring him calling her name behind her as she wiggled her way through the crowded front door. She kept her gaze focused on the ground, steadying herself until she made it back to her vehicle.

Even then, she wouldn’t give in to the rage growing inside of her. She’d talk to Peter first. Have him confirm why he’d do something she was so dead set against. Explain why he’d think it was okay to take away what little protection was left around their daughter without talking to her first.

And if she didn’t like his answers, then he wasn’t going to like her reaction.

F
ebruary 28

Secrets. They can kill a marriage or make it stronger. I’ve always believed that.

The worst secrets are those that eat at you inside, when you know you need to be honest and face the consequences but are too afraid. Then there’s the other kind. The secrets that are kept for the preservation of sanity.

Jack has his own set of secrets that he thinks I don’t know about. The ones that he thinks he keeps to protect me.

The only thing he’s protecting is himself.

I don’t have many secrets that I keep from him. Most days I don’t even remember them; other days they weigh down on me until I feel like I’m buried so deep that I can’t breathe anymore.

Today was one of those days.

My husband sleeps like the dead beside me—other than the snoring—while I toss and turn, unable to find rest. My secret weighs on me too heavily. But there’s no release, no way out. Not that I can see.