Finding Emma (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sherri rushed back home.
She'd left the girls giggling together over a bowl of popcorn while the latest My Little Pony movie played in the background.

Both girls looked up from the movie when she opened the front door. She quenched the concern for Dottie as she held up the bag Jack had thrust into her arms before he left.

“I have a surprise,” she announced. Grins covered the girl’s faces as they looked at her. Marie, her daughter, jumped up to her knees in anticipation.

“We're going to have a sleepover party!”

Sherri placed the bag on the chair by the door and opened up her arms. Her daughter slammed into her, excitement all over her face as her breath was squeezed out of her. Sherri glanced at Emmie. She doubted the little girl had ever been away from her grandparents for longer than an hour, let alone overnight. Emmie's face was scrunched and her eyes darted to the bag on the seat. Sherri opened the bag and took out the stuffed animal Jack had stuffed in the bag. Emmie leapt up and grabbed the pink lion. She held it close to her chest as a tentative smile crept on her face.

“What do you say, Emmie? Want to have a sleepover?” Sherri asked.

Marie pulled away from Sherri, placed her hands on Sherri's cheeks and smiled.

“Sleepover?” Sherri asked her daughter. Marie nodded her head.

Sherri chuckled and gave her daughter a quick hug. If there was one thing her daughter loved, it was sleepovers. She struggled to suppress her grin as her daughter jumped from her arms over to Emmie. She flung her arms around her friend and squeezed tight. Emmie's eyes opened wide until she giggled.

“Fort, Mama?”

She needed to make this night a happy one for Emmie. It might be her last one for a while. She held up her one hand and began to list off everything the girls would do tonight. Make a fort. Bake cookies. Have a bonfire and roast marshmallows, then read a bedtime story.

Her daughter jumped high in the air, and her yell bounced off the living room walls until Emmie was forced to cover her ears with her hands. Marie grabbed Emmie's hand and pulled her upstairs. Sherri knew the bedroom was going to be a mess as the girls attempted to make their fort. She would need to remember to take pictures.

As she prepared to make dinner, loud thumps and peals of laughter drifted from her daughter's bedroom upstairs. It's so good to hear the laughter. Sherri uttered a small prayer for Dottie. A stroke. What would that mean for Jack and Emmie? Where was Emmie's mother and why wasn't she taking care of her daughter? Sherri knew she shouldn't judge, nor allow her thoughts to grow in an exaggerated form. Many elderly couples took care of their grandchildren in today's day and age. It was just sad. Grandparents were there to spoil not to raise small children.

With a pot of water on the stove to boil, and a tray of chicken nuggets in the oven to bake, Sherri poured herself a glass of iced tea and started to clean her kitchen table. Her husband wouldn't be home until after dark tonight. Matt managed the car dealership in town and often worked the night shift. Which meant, an easy dinner tailored specifically to the girls would make it an even easier night for Sherri. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

Once everything was ready, Sherri called the girls down. When there was no reply, she had a sneaky suspicion, so she climbed the stairs and stood outside the bedroom door. She couldn't believe her eyes. Not only was the fort built and the room surprisingly clean, but the girls were inside the fort and only muffled giggles could be heard. The girls had managed to empty the bed of all blankets and sheets, and with the help of Marie's desk chair, dresser drawers and desk, they managed to create a large enough space for them to sleep under.

On tiptoes, Sherri snuck into the room and lifted a corner of a bed sheet draped over the chair and peeked inside. She was smashed in the face by a pillow. With a growl, she launched her body inside the fort and grabbed a nearby pillow. After a few minutes of blows to the body and a pain in her side from laughing so hard, Sherri persuaded the girls to join her downstairs for dinner.

As Sherri dished out the plates of homemade macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets, Marie took out the milk from the fridge and poured herself and Emmie a glass. Before Sherri could bring the plates over to the table, her daughter had already downed one full glass of milk and was in the midst of pouring herself another. Emmie just sat there, wide eyed as she watched Marie chug the milk down with superhero speed.

Emmie waited until Sherri had sat down before she reached for her milk and took a big gulp of it. Sherri smiled at her, reached for her hand and waited for her daughter to say a simple prayer of thanks for the meal. Silence reigned in the kitchen as they ate their dinner. Any time Marie would speak, Sherri marveled at how quickly Emmie recognized the need to look her daughter in the eye before she answered. Children were able to adapt and accept what adults often struggled to even notice. Her daughter's hearing disability didn't even seem to faze Emmie.

“Mama? Why is Emmie on the milk?” Marie asked

Sherri glanced up from the plate. What? Marie pointed to the milk carton that sat on the kitchen table. Sherri reached across and turned the carton so that the picture faced her. It was a Missing Children's advertisement often found on milk cartons. Sherri never really took much notice of them before.

“I'm not,” said Emmie as she continued to spoon her macaroni and cheese into her mouth.

Sherri looked at the picture on the carton back to Emmie. There was a resemblance. It was uncanny.

“It's not me,” Emmie said again, with a shake of her head. “See, my hair is longer and I have all my tooths.” She opened her mouth wide to display her teeth.

Sherri glanced back at the picture. With her two front teeth missing and her hair in a ponytail, now that she really looked at it, that little girl didn't resemble Emmie at all. Emmie was older as well, plus where were the dimples?

“Okay,” said Marie before her attention returned to her dinner.

Sherri didn't say anything.

*****

Sherri stood at the foot of the stairs and gave off a sigh of relief. It took a bit, but she finally managed to get the girls to settle down and go to sleep. The excitement level was kept high for Emmie. First sleepovers were always difficult, but the brave little girl only asked for her grandma and Papa a few times.

She checked to make sure the porch light was on for Matt. He should be home soon. She needed to talk to him about the photo on the milk jug. The campfire smoldered in the fire pit outside in the backyard. It had become a habit to sit enjoy the quiet night in the country once their daughters were in bed. She poured a tall glass of iced tea from the pitcher she’d made earlier and was about to head outside when the slam of a car door caught her attention. She looked out her window, but Matt's silver truck wasn't there.

With her iced tea in one hand, and cordless phone in the other, Sherri nudged the screen from the patio door open. A warm red glow emitted from the fire pit. The girls had so much fun out here earlier as they tried to toast their marshmallows. Sherri's stomach turned at the thought of all those sugary treats. Emmie wouldn't eat any of the ones that caught on fire, so rather than waste it, Sherri engorged herself.

The night was still. The crickets’ soft melody carried in the warm summer night breeze as the lone cow out in the farmers’ field called out to the herd. Sherri loved the quiet nights of country life. She didn't miss living in town at all. Sherri sank back in one of the white washed Adirondack chairs that encircled the campfire and closed her eyes. The scuffle of rocks sounded to the right. It was a quiet sound, but Sherri shot up and looked around.

A vehicle was parked outside of Jack and Dottie's house. Sherri walked over to the fence that separated their properties. Maybe Jack was home already, although, he drove an old Fold pickup, not a Jeep.

Sherri could barely make out the silhouette of the person who banged on her neighbor’s back door.

“They're not home,” Sherri called out during a lull in the pounding.

The figure turned and took a few steps away from the porch and into the small light.

“They're not home,” Sherri called out again. She didn't want to make her voice too loud. Her daughter's window was open and the last thing she wanted was for either one of the girls to wake up.

“Do you know when they'll be home?” A man’s voice carried in the wind.

Sherri was about to call out again when she realized the person headed towards her. “I'm sorry, there was an emergency and they had to go to the hospital.”

“Is everything okay, ma’am?”

As the man approached, she noticed something in his hand. A badge. It was a cop. Why would a police officer be looking for Jack and Dottie?

Should she say anything about Emmie and the photo of that missing girl?

“I'm sorry, but I'm sure Jack will be home tomorrow. Do you want me to let him know you were here?” An awkward silence hung in the air.

The officer walked up to the fence until he stared Sherri right in the eye.

“Ma’am, can you confirm if they have a little girl who stays with them?”

Sherri hesitated. The image of the missing child photo flashed before Sherri’s eyes.

“Yes, their granddaughter. Is everything okay?” Sherri was about to ask if anything had happened to Dottie at the hospital, but recalled that the officer hadn’t known anything about them being there in the first place.

“I'm sorry. Jack is at the hospital with Dottie.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll head up to the hospital to see Mr. and Mrs. Henry myself. I hope you have a good night. Sorry to have bothered you.” The officer took a step backwards.

Sherri glanced behind her and thought about the two girls sleeping in the upstairs.

What if Emmie was that missing little girl?

“Officer?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Megan’s hand rested on the doorknob to Emma’s room.
She never thought she would do this -- say goodbye. Not like this. It didn’t feel right.

She should be in here tidying up the room, fluff the pillow and comforter, dust the picture frames. Getting it ready for when Emma came home.

Except she wasn’t. Ever. And it was time to accept that.

A heavy shroud blanketed Megan.

She opened the door and she surveyed the walls, the bookshelves and the bed. Peter was right. This room was a shrine. She had been living with life on pause.

This room would never be anything other than Emma’s room. A coat of paint and new furniture would never change that.

The phone rang downstairs. Megan's heart stopped for a brief moment before she remembered it no longer mattered. She had to accept that the likelihood of anyone sighting Emma now was slim. She needed to stop expecting the phone call.

Still, she rushed out of Emma’s room and down the stairs, only to stop dead in her tracks. Peter stood there. The phone in his hand.

Peter cleared his throat. She stared at the phone in his hand. She raised her eyes to look in his face, and her heart dropped. His eyes were red.

“Detective Riley.” The weary anguish in his voice shattered the little shards of hope Megan still held on to.

“It’s not her, is it?” She cried. She went to move past him but he blocked her. His hands settled on her shoulders and he forced her to stay still.

“Detective Riley found the couple in the picture. But they were at the hospital. The woman, a grandmother,” Peter shook his head, “had a stroke. The child you saw in the photo is their granddaughter. The mother passed away almost three years ago. She's lived with them ever since.”

Megan’s body froze. Granddaughter. The little girl wasn’t Emma. Her body shuddered as the realization swept over her.

“We sent a police officer to the hospital to speak to a man whose wife just had a stroke based on a grainy picture that I told you wasn’t Emma. Why?” Peter turned from her. His back was rigid. Anger rippled through his muscles.

Megan’s heart seared as if poked with a hot iron. Pain, heartache, despair was forever branded upon her heart. She was gone. She was really gone.

“I had to try. I would have always wondered,” Megan sobbed. She wanted to curl up in a ball and block everything out. She couldn't do this anymore.

“I know. That’s why I sent the image to Riley. But we can’t do this anymore, Megan. Don’t you see that? We can’t hurt anyone else. Not like this.” Peter's voice cracked. His body convulsed from the sobs that tore through him.

“Peter?” She didn't like the distance between them.

A haunted look entered his eyes. He stepped away from her, only one step, but to Megan it might as well have been to the moon, that's how far the distance between them felt.

“It's late. I'm going to bed.” The sloop of his shoulders and the way his head hung spoke volumes to her.

“Peter,” Megan repeated as she reached out to him only to stop.

She couldn't handle losing him too, not tonight. The realization hit her. It was his strength, his love, his laughter that she needed. She couldn’t do this alone. She needed him to help her live again. Live without Emma.

“Come to bed, Megan. I just want this day over with.”

Megan followed him up the stairs. She stopped at Emma's bedroom. She closed the door, but not before her eyes drank in the sight of the frilly princess bed, a room where only sweet dreams should reside. This wasn't a room full of dreams anymore. Not for her.

Peter disappeared into their bedroom by the time Megan turned around. She hoped she wasn't too late. That he hadn't shut her out yet.

Megan crawled into bed beside Peter and snuggled up to his cold body. He just lay there. With her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, she closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed that there was still a chance for them to repair the cracks in their marriage, that their family would be able to heal and move forward and that Emma, no matter where she was, would be happy. A tear slipped past her eyelashes as she thought about Emma.

God, please let my daughter be in heaven, happy with you
. Megan couldn't bear the thought that she could be anywhere else, with anyone else.

“We can't do this anymore,” Peter said. His voice was heavy with emotion and rumbled deep within his chest.

“I know.” Megan rubbed her hand gently across his chest. As much as it hurt, she knew she couldn't do it anymore either. Her heart splintered into minuscule pieces.

“Saying goodbye is going to be hard,” she whispered.

Peter's arm tightened across her shoulders as he pulled her closer. Megan closed her eyes. Words didn't need to be said tonight. Tomorrow was a new day, with new decisions to be made.

Megan gave a deep sigh and burrowed into Peter's now warm body. She listened to the rhythm of his breathing, matched her breath with his and worked at clearing her mind. Sleep beckoned and she welcomed it.

The shrill ring of the phone jarred her awake. Her body buzzed with excitement the moment the phone rang. Peter reached across to the table beside the bed, and answered the phone.

“Okay, see you then,” he said after a few moments.

Megan held her breath.

“Detective Riley wants us to meet him at a farmhouse near Hanton.”

“Why?” That didn't make sense. Megan sat up to look at Peter.

His right shoulder shrugged.

Megan's chest felt like it was going to explode, the heart palpitations increased until she felt acute pain. She bit her lip to contain the cry that ripped through her throat.

Peter's eyes met hers. The pain she experienced in her chest equaled the pain in his eyes.

“Maybe he wants to show us personally that it’s not Emma. Maybe he wants to help us let go.”

Megan turned and lay on her side, away from Peter. She curled herself into a ball, stuffed her hand into her mouth to stifle the sobs that racked through her body.