[Finding Emma 02.5] Dottie's Memories

Dottie
’
s Memories

Deleted Entries from Emma
’
s Secret

Steena Holmes

www.steenaholmes.com

Copyright ©
2013 by Steena Holmes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

www.steenaholmes.com

Dear Reader:

If you have read Finding Emma, Dear Jack and Emma
’
s Secret, then you know by now that Dottie
’
s journal entries show her true heart. Because you
’
ve followed me in this journey of a little girl loved by many, I wanted to share with you some of the deleted journal entries from Emma
’
s Secret.

As you read each entry, I wonder if you
’
ll think about where it was originally placed? Originally each chapter began with an entry, but during revisions I realized that I wanted you to focus more on the story of Emma
’
s return rather than all the entries from Dottie.

I hope you enjoy them.

When you
’
re done, please come and visit me on my Facebook page and let me know what you thought of these deleted entries
–
http://www.facebook.com/steenaholmes.author
.

Until then
…

Steena

August 14

Is it wrong for me to be jealous of the bond between Jack and Emmie? Was it wrong of me to think that this was 'my' time with my little one?

The bond between the two of them reminds me a lot of the one between Jack and Mary. I was always the outsider, the one who didn't understand their little jokes or side glances. I should have been the one Mary clung to, the one who had secret words with her and unspoken memories. I was the one always there for her, the one who held her at night while she cried for her daddy, the one who taught her the hardest life lessons possible. So why was it to Jack she always ran?

It's the same way now. I'm the one nurturing Emmie, struggling to ensure she grows up a well-rounded little girl, but it's Jack she clings to. Jack she wants. Jack who captured her heart.

What did I do wrong?

I know I'm not one to show my love in an outward manner. I never was. It always surprised me that Jack, who wears his heart on his sleeve, could love me like he does with us being so opposite. My mother used to say opposites never attracted, they combusted. But that hasn't been the case between us. Maybe because we know what it's like to live without each other.

I'm too old to change the way I am. I can only hope that Emmie realizes I'm showing my love by teaching her life skills.

It didn't work with Mary, but it might with Mary
’
s daughter. I'm not as rough around the edges as I once was. I only wish Mary could see that. Maybe if she did, she'd come home.

October 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 only 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 where I don
’
t remember then days that 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. I pray that when he does understand, that there is nothing left for him to forgive.

October 17

Jack was packing up a box today when I came downstairs. Inside were a bunch of Halloween decorations he'd picked up in town. Miniature skeletons that dangled from a stick, face paint, spray cans of multi colors that work in hair...all the things Mary used to ask for when it came time for Halloween.

He wanted to pack it up before Emmie woke up, he told me. He didn't want her frightened of the skeleton and vampire dolls he bought. Emmie is a very sensitive little girl, she doesn't even like to watch the Halloween cartoon of Berenstein Bears, says it scares her. I believe it since I was the one who sat with her while she cried herself to sleep from watching it. I should have known better. Mary used to be the same way when she was smaller. It wasn't until she was a teenager that her fascination with the holiday grew.

I didn't mind at first, but it was when the black lipstick and nail polish kept coming out after Christmas that it worried me. Jack used to laugh at my fears; he thought Mary needed to grow up expressing herself however she wanted.

Sometimes Jack isn't always right.

I boxed up some cookies Emmie and I made yesterday and had Jack put them in the box as well. I even wrote her a note telling Mary that Emmie helped make them. I hope that will make her smile, knowing her daughter hadn't forgotten about her.

One day, maybe she'll send a note back. I do miss my little girl.

November 2

I'm worried about Jack. It's that time again. He came home with a new bottle of Jack Daniels and placed it in the cupboard above the stove. He hasn't been talking much, just hiding in his little tool shed, building god knows what out there. I made the mistake in suggesting he start to build things for the local churches Christmas drive. The only person he wants to build for right now is his baby girl. I understand. But his baby girl is getting spoiled and that's not right.

How long is he going to mourn like this? It's been too many years to count. At first, he would pull away from me for more than a month. Thankfully it's only for a week or so now. I'm too old to deal with this.

When my folks passed away, I had a good cry and then carried on. I had to. There was no other choice. And when I thought Jack was dead, it was only at night, when Mary was in bed, that I'd let the grief wash over me.

Jack, please, when I die
—
don't grieve. If you read this, please live your life. I'll be waiting for you. I will always love you. But for Emmie's sake, I need you to let me go.

February 7

Jack handed me a box today and asked me to mail it while in town getting groceries. It was only a small box, not heavy, and I could hold it with one hand. When I asked him what was in it, his shoulders slumped and he said it was for Valentine's Day.

What he didn't say was that it was for Mary.

Most days I'm able to forget, to pretend that she is still out there, somewhere. Most days I live in a fog where not much is clear.

I'm not sure anymore what is memory and what is make believe. It's hard to discern between real and dreams. Between what I want and what I have. I don't think I know the difference anymore.

I parked on a deserted back road today and sat there in my car. I know this sounds crazy, but it was as if I saw things happen right in front of my eyes. As if there were a movie playing out on the road. I had to pull over. I don't want to go crazy. Not like this! Please let it be a nightmare. Please let it be something my mind wants me to believe that isn't real.

I saw an article in the paper of a possible kidnapping again in Kinrich. Not the first, the article said. It highlighted a family still looking for their toddler. A beautiful little girl named Emma. She looked so much like our Emmie, but younger. I tore out the section and burned it in the fire before Jack could read it. I'm not sure why
—
it was an unexpected reaction. Maybe she reminded me too much of Mary, of what I went through when she first ran away.

That has to be it. There's no other explanation.

March 30

There are days when I am so angry. At Mary for leaving me to raise her daughter. At Jack for not understanding the situation we are in. At myself for being so angry. The only person I'm not mad at is Emmie. But I take my anger out on her. Not physically. But I pull away. It's the only way I know how to deal with my feelings. I'm not a talker. I don't believe in the theory that if I talk through my feelings things will magically get better. They won't. They'll just become more real.

Today I hid myself away in our bedroom. Thankfully Jack understood. I used to do this when Mary was a young child. I needed time to myself. Quiet when I could get lost in my own thoughts and not worry about anything else. I'm too old to raise a child. We're too old. Why can't Jack see that?

Jack wants to reach out to Mary, to convince her to come home and raise Emmie. I think it's a bad idea. I'm not sure why, but there's something inside me that tells me it wouldn't work. I told Jack I would try to contact Mary. But I won't. I can't. She knows where we live. She knows our phone number. Our daughter knows she can come home any time she wants to. But she's chosen not to.

Her last words to me were, "I hate you." I'll never forget her tone. Every child eventually says that to their parents, but they never believe it. Deep down. But Mary did. I heard it in her voice. I don't know what I did that was so evil, so horrific to earn her hatred, but it's there.

Every day I remind myself that I can do it differently. That I can raise Emmie to be a loving young woman. But every day I'm also reminded of my age and how tired I am and I get worried. What happens if I die too soon? What if Jack is the one who dies first? What if we die together, like we had talked about, knowing that without each other, there was no reason to live? What would happen to Emmie then?

Mary will never be a mother to Emmie. She might as well be dead. What kind of mother says that about her own child? Maybe this is the reason Mary hates me so much, because she knows that I'm the type of mother to say that.

Because both she and I know it is true. Mary is dead. And there's nothing I can do to change that.

June 20

It's not often we go on family trips, but today was an extra special day: the one year anniversary since Emmie came to live with us. We wanted to do something extra special with her today. Actually, I wanted to make her a cake and give her the new tea set I'd found, but it was Jack's idea to go out.

There's a little town about an hour away that has a playhouse. Jack once took me to see Romeo and Juliette there for our anniversary back when we were younger. We even stayed at a bed and breakfast, something that was quite the novelty back in the day.

Last night I finished sewing a new dress for Emmie. The fabric was on sale and so girly. Something Mary would never wear, but perfect for her daughter. I sometimes wonder how Mary could birth a child like Emmie. At times, she's the complete opposite to the child I raised.

I laid the new dress out for Emmie this morning while she was eating breakfast with Jack. I swear, if our neighbours still lived next door, they could have heard her squeals when she saw it. But she looks like a button as my mother used to say. A button worth sewing. And she did. I made sure Jack took a picture today before we left.

Emmie was a little ball of energy on the drive today. She kept asking where we were going, but Jack would only wink at her and leave me to calm her down, as usual. I swear, he has no idea some days of how to raise a young child. He likes to get her worked up over the littlest things. He says her laughter is a balm to his soul. Honestly
—
a balm to his soul. The old man is growing soft.

We stopped at a little tea shop and ate cucumber sandwiches with homemade lemonade. It was too sour for Emmie so Jack snuck in a few extra packets of sugar, not thinking I'd notice. The scones were light and fluffy, but nothing like what I make. They could have used an extra teaspoon of vanilla and a little less salt, in my opinion.

The play we went to see, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, was quite enjoyable. Emmie loved it, I don't think she stopped smiling until she went to sleep. The best part of course was when Emmie got picked out of all the kids in the small crowd to go backstage during the intermission and then have a small role on the stage. I was a bit wary of her doing that, she's so small and not used to crowds, but Jack was there at the side and stood guard, protecting her like the man he is. She was as cute as a button, playing the role of a sunflower swaying in the breeze.

This will be a day we'll never forget.