[Finding Emma 03.0] Megan's Hope (8 page)
“
I have
…
I have a gift for you too, Papa. One I made myself. It
’
s a story.
”
Emma climbed awkwardly back onto the bed; one hand held the locket and the other her gift.
“
I
’
m a bit tired, baby girl. Will you read it to me?
”
Emma turned and placed her hand on his heart.
“
Is your heart tired, too, Papa?
”
Jack sighed and nodded.
“
Very tired, honey.
”
Emma sat up.
“
Mommy, can I read my story to Papa with everyone here?
”
Megan stepped forward.
“
Do you want me to tell Daddy?
”
Emma nodded.
As Megan went to the door, Doug woke up in a coughing fit. Megan rushed over and grabbed his water glass and forced the straw to his lips once he
’
d stopped coughing.
“
Take a small drink, Doug. Just a small one.
”
Doug didn
’
t say a word, but she knew from the expression on his face that he said thank you.
“
Merry Christmas, Doug,
”
Megan whispered. She helped him lean back into his pillow and he closed his eyes, his face gaunt and pale.
“
Merry Christmas, old man.
”
Jack watched his friend with a look of love in his eyes.
Doug couldn
’
t say anything but Megan caught the faint smile on his face.
“
Go say hi to my Dottie mine. Tell her I
’
ll be there soon.
”
Jack breathed in deep, as deep as he could.
“
Wait for me, okay?
”
Jack choked up and held onto Emma
’
s hand, blinking away at the tears that pooled in his eyes.
Doug closed his eyes and smiled. Megan checked his monitor and knew he was either resting or asleep because his heart rate, while slowed, still beat.
Peter and the girls all came into the room and crowded around the bed. Peter went over and squeezed Jack
’
s shoulder.
“
Merry Christmas, Jack,
”
Peter said. Jack smiled up at him and reached for his hand, squeezing back.
“
You girls look so pretty, just like your mom,
”
Jack said to Hannah and Alexis. The girls stood there, unable to say much but they smiled at him.
“
Your sister has a story to tell me and then
…
I think I
’
m ready to
…”
He couldn
’
t finish.
“
To see Grandma and give her a hug. Wouldn
’
t that be the bestest Christmas present ever?
”
Emma finished for him.
Peter nodded and reached for Megan
’
s hand.
“
The bestest,
”
Peter agreed.
Emma opened up her present for Jack and showed him the cover of her book. It was a large heart and on the front were the words
The Tales of Emma and her Papa
.
Jack reached out to the book, touching it, and gave Emma the biggest smile he could.
“
Is this a story about us, little girl?
”
Emma nodded.
“
Are there pictures too?
”
Emma opened up to the first page and showed Jack the picture she
’
d drawn of her room with the fairy lights.
With everyone silent, Emma read the story, retelling tales of her baking with Dottie in the kitchen, of working with Jack in his little workshop, and helping to take care of his flowers. She recounted the story of when Daisy had been her surprise gift and then she turned the page to the picture of a small tree, the same one where Dottie
’
s ashes were buried beneath.
“
Papa, now, I want you to lie back and close your eyes, okay?
”
Emma placed her hands on Jack
’
s cheeks and gave him a small kiss.
“
Emma.
”
Peter went to stop her but Megan squeezed his hand.
“
Papa is tired, Daddy. It
’
s okay.
”
Megan was so proud of her little girl. So proud and humbled by her strength. She was doing what no one else could
…
letting Jack know it was okay to go.
“
Emma,
”
Megan said softly.
Her daughter looked up with bright eyes and Megan knew she was holding back her tears.
“
Finish your story for Papa, okay? Jack, we all love you.
”
“
Love you, Papa Jack,
”
Hannah and Alexis both whispered.
“
Jack, thank you
…
for everything,
”
Peter managed to get out.
Jack gazed around at everyone.
“
I
’
ve lived a good life, but you all,
”
he paused as he looked at Emma,
“
you have helped to make my life worth living.
”
Jack
’
s face tightened up and it was evident for everyone to see he was in pain. He struggled to breathe
—
in and out, in and out
—
and everyone held their own breath waiting
…
just waiting.
“
I love you, Princess,
”
Jack was finally able to whisper.
Emma leaned forward and placed another kiss on Jack
’
s lips.
“
I
’
ll always love you, Papa.
”
Jack closed his eyes.
“
Finish your story, baby girl.
”
With trembling hands, Emma picked up her book and turned to the last page. She blinked a few times before she opened her mouth.
“
At the end of his days, Papa was tired and Grandma was ready for him to come home. His little girl would miss him forever but she knew he would always be watching her, protecting her, just like her grandma. Because in the end, that
’
s what love is all about.
”
By the end, Emma
’
s voice had dropped to a mere whisper until the only sound anyone heard in the hospital room was the steady tone of the heart monitor, first from Doug
’
s side of the room and then from Jack
’
s.
Peter let out a sob as he bent down and grabbed hold of his knees as the realization hit that both men had passed away. Hannah and Alexis stood there, silently crying, while Emma leaned down and curled up against Jack. Tears ran down her face.
So that was it. The end they
’
d all been dreading but knew needed to happen. Megan let out the breath she held and stepped back as the nurse came in and pulled the plug from both machines so that the sound of death couldn
’
t continue. She then, with a soft touch to Megan
’
s shoulder, left the room and closed the door quietly behind her, knowing as a family, they still were not ready to say goodbye.
Megan wasn
’
t sure they would ever be ready, even though they no longer had the choice.
The End
turn the page for some behind the scenes info
…
Did you cry?
Please tell me you cried (or are crying). I don
’
t want to be the only one.
Writing that last month - the scene with Emma reading her story to Jack and saying goodbye
…
that had me in tears. I sat in a hotel room in the middle of the beautiful rockies during a snowstorm and bawled for almost four hours straight while trying to write that scene.
And I
’
ll admit, re-reading it just now, I
’
m crying again. Why?
Jack holds such a dear place in my heart and the strength of Emma, being able to say goodbye
…
that did it for me.
When I first started writing Jack
’
s story back in Finding Emma, I was amazed at how easy it was for me to write about him. Sometimes I create a character and sometimes the character create themselves. Jack was like that - stubborn, heart warming
…
a big old grumpy teddy bear. He reminds me so much of my own father and grandfather and saying goodbye to him was like saying goodbye to a member of my family.
By now, I hope you
’
ve read all the books in the Finding Emma series. I
’
m not sure if there will be more
…
I know a few readers have asked to know more about Mary and maybe one day her story will come to me in more depth. I would love to dive back into her world with Jack and Dottie - one day.
But for now, if you
’
re looking for another story to read
…
have you read my new Stillwater Bay series? Like with Finding Emma and The Memory Child, I dig deep into issues mothers all face in one form or another - fears, heartache, life. I hope you
’
ll join me in this new series and if you do, thank you for trusting me to be gentle with your heart, once again.
Steena
PS. Don
’
t forget to sign up for my
newsletter
to be the first to know about new releases, contests and so much more! And if you
’
re not part of my Secret Society yet (where you get special gifts, sneak peaks and more) then why not join! We have a
Facebook group
and a special monthly
newsletter
just for you!
(turn for a sneak peak into my Stillwater Bay series)
A Short Look into Before the Storm - book 0.5 in the Stillwater Bay series.
BEFORE THE STORM
(an excerpt)
Julia Berry
“
Gabe, time to get up, honey.
”
Julia knocked softly on her son
’
s door and peeked her head in. She loved the way his tousled blond hair was half-hidden beneath his blankets. His long, lanky frame no longer fit the single bed, but she wasn
’
t sure what to do, unless she got a new bed custom-made, and even then she wasn
’
t sure he would fit.
His bedroom wasn
’
t very large, in fact, it was barely big enough for his bed on one side of the room and a desk on the other side. His dresser was stuffed into his closet, with a small area for him to hang his clothes.
The walls were full of zombie renderings. At one time she
’
d been worried about his obsession, but Pastor Scott had soothed her fears by telling her it was a boy thing, natural and healthy. She wasn
’
t sure how it was healthy, but what did she know? It didn
’
t help that there was a popular TV show now on the subject of zombies. Gabe would sit there, eyes glued to the screen, and then head into his bedroom, notepad in hand, and draw the images he
’
d seen. The blood-splattered sketches were lifelike, and not for the first time she hoped that somehow this gift of his would get tapped for something big.
“
Gabe?
”
Her son barely managed to lift his hand up in a half greeting before he grunted, and Julia closed the door, satisfied that their morning ritual had been completed. He
’
d lie there for another ten minutes before walking zombielike to the bathroom, where he
’
d step into a cold shower.
She had no idea how he could shower that way, but it worked for him.
Even though her son was sixteen, she still liked to make his breakfast. It was almost as if, despite all the other mistakes she
’
d made raising him, this one thing she could do right. She took out the last of their eggs and bacon, set it on the counter, and then grabbed some fresh herbs she
’
d picked up yesterday. She needed to head to the store today to replenish their empty pantry. It was time to talk to Gabe about getting a part-time job so he could start helping with groceries, especially considering he was the one eating the majority of them. Except, after everything that had happened lately, she wasn
’
t sure who would hire him.
“
I
’
m starting breakfast,
”
she called out when she heard Gabe
’
s bedroom door open and the heavy tread of his footsteps along the wood floors.
“
Don
’
t take too long.
”
“’
Kay.
”
She shook her head at his one-word reply. Typical boy
—
or so she hoped.
Gabe wasn
’
t a typical boy, though, so she never really knew what to expect when it came to his behavior. She thought of the pile of parenting books on her nightstand and wondered whether she would ever truly understand him.
No one else in town did either. She dreaded the upcoming talk she needed to have with him.
“
Hey, Mom, there
’
s no towels.
”
Julia set down the egg she held in her hand.
“
Did you not bring up the laundry like I asked last night?
”
“
Sorry,
”
he called out.
She heard the bathroom door close, and the pipes groaned as he turned on the water.
Obviously she was expected to do his chores for him. She headed down the stairs into the basement, saw the folded towels, and shook her head. So he
’
d come down and done half his chore but couldn
’
t bring up the basket?
She hefted it into her arms and climbed the stairs. Setting it down in front of the bathroom door, she knocked.
“
Maid service.
”
“
Thanks, Mom.
”
Gabe opened the door a smidgen and stuck his hand out. She picked up a towel and gave it to him before walking away.
Be patient but firm. That was what all the books advised when it came to raising teen boys. Patient but firm. Everything in her wanted to put the towels away in the closet, but she didn
’
t. Gabe needed to be self-sufficient, and she
’
d tried really hard not to raise a mama
’
s boy.
Julia went back to making breakfast. By the time the bacon was crispy, Gabe was out of the bathroom. She heard him fumble over the laundry basket, and when he mumbled low enough that she couldn
’
t hear the words, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling. It was a little mean of her to place the basket directly in front of the door, knowing he wouldn
’
t have thought to look for it otherwise.
She had his breakfast ready on the table and was in the midst of pouring him a glass of orange juice when he came up behind her and wrapped her in a hug. She smiled, knowing she needed to cherish this moment.
“
I
’
m sorry I didn
’
t finish my chores,
”
he said.
“
Is it all done now?
”
He shook his head.
“
I
’
ll put the towels away after school. Promise.
”
“
As long as it
’
s done before I get home, that
’
s fine.
”
They ate their breakfast in silence, Gabe wolfing down his eggs and bacon while she toyed with hers. When he was finished, she pushed her plate toward him.
“
You sure?
”
His fork was poised over her eggs.
“
Gabriel, we need to talk.
”
He set his fork down on his own plate, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms.
Oh, boy.
“
I need to know, as a mother, about what happened the other night. I
’
ve given you some time and space and didn
’
t want to
—”
“
What?
”
Gabriel leaned forward, cutting her off.
“
Didn
’
t want to what, Mom? Accuse me right away?
”
She swallowed.
“
I
’
m not accusing. I just want answers.
”
She watched her son for the cues, his
tells
that he was about to explode. The flaring nostrils, the cracking of his knuckles, the curl of disgust in his lips . . . but all she got was a rolling of the eyes.
Maybe she was worried over nothing.
“
Sorry to disappoint,
this time
, but I
’
ve got nothin
’
for ya.
”
He picked up his fork and began to eat her eggs.
She studied him, unfamiliar with this reaction.
“
Nothing? You knew nothing about the graffiti on those vehicles parked on Main Street? Nothing about the images drawn on the church? Or the garbage cans knocked over?
”
When his gaze lifted to hers at the last words, she knew something was up.
“
You knew about the garbage cans?
”
she asked.
He shrugged and went back to eating the eggs.
Julia leaned forward, suddenly feeling very exhausted.
“
Gabriel? Please tell me this wasn
’
t some skateboard trick you were attempting.
”
He shrugged again.
“
Okay, I won
’
t tell you.
”
“
Are you kidding me?
”
She was flabbergasted.
“
Do you realize that I told the police there was no way you could be involved, and that I was tired of them always coming to you first when things like this happen?
”
She could feel her blood pressure rise as she remembered the countless knocks in the middle of the night, police officers wanting
—
no, demanding
—
to know where Gabriel was. Most of those times he was in his bed . . . most of the time.
“
Isn
’
t that what you
’
re supposed to do as a mom? Believe in your son? Trust him? Defend him? Isn
’
t that what a parent is supposed to do?
”
“
Of course that
’
s what you
’
re to do. And that
’
s what I do
”—
she reached out and touched his arm
—“
over and over again.
”
“
So why don
’
t you believe me, then?
”
She looked him in the eye, one brow raised, and said nothing.
“
Yeah, sorry. I should have come clean about the garbage cans.
”
He lowered his gaze as he said that.
She was about to reply when her phone rang. She looked around the kitchen for it and couldn
’
t find it anywhere; it wasn
’
t until the third ring that she found it stuffed below one of the couch cushions in the living area.
“
Good morning.
”
“
Julia, I need your help.
”
Julia smiled at the sound of Jenn
’
s voice on the other end. Jenn was one of the first friends she
’
d made when she moved to Stillwater Bay ten years ago.
Gabe was six, and to keep him occupied while she unloaded their vehicle, she
’
d unpacked a small box full of toy cars she
’
d picked up at a garage sale for him. He was sitting on the front lawn playing while she carried in their meager belongings. Thank God she
’
d found a cottage to rent that came furnished. When she
’
d left the city she had to sell as much as she could to help pay for their move.
It was while she was dragging in their one suitcase stuffed full of all their clothes that Jenn pulled up and immediately began to help her.
She
’
d been stunned at first. Here was this polished woman wearing jeans, pumps, and a blouse that obviously cost more money than Julia had left in the bank, and she was carrying boxes and bags stuffed with daily essentials into Julia
’
s new home.
Julia had been a little overwhelmed. But when Jenn pulled out a huge basket full of freshly made food and jars of jams and preserves, that was when she started to cry.
She
’
d made a decision before moving here never to reveal her real reasons for coming to Stillwater Bay, so she
’
d come up with an alternate story, one that was more believable: As a single mother, raising a boy in the city wasn
’
t always ideal, especially not in the neighborhood they
’
d lived in. Julia had grown up in a small community and wanted to have that tight-knit feeling for her own son. She knew he would need it. Stillwater Bay was all that and more. She
’
d answered an ad to work in the retirement home, and the day she got the job she gave her notice at the large retirement facility she worked in Seattle, told her landlord she was leaving at the end of the month, and packed.
She never regretted that decision, despite . . . everything. She would never regret it.
***
Want to read more?
Turn the page to read an excerpt from Stillwater Rising - book 1 in the series.
