Finding Emma (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The antiseptic smell bothered Jack's nose.
He scrunched it up in distaste. He rested his hand on the cold metal bed rail raised on Dottie's bed. He'd just finished tucking the thin hospital blanket around her body. He should have brought one of the afghans she'd knitted to cover her. She was always cold, even in the summer, and loved to have an array of blankets on her body as she slept. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.

Jack stroked Dottie's cold age-spotted hand. It bothered him at how cold it felt, but the nurse had assured him it was normal. He checked her face for any signs of life, but she lay as still as she had before he'd stepped out of the room fifteen minutes ago.

Jack took a glance over his shoulder. The detective had finally left. It bothered him how long the man had stood just outside Dottie's door after Jack had excused himself. The hour was late and his wife was lying in a hospital bed unconscious from a stroke. The man shouldn't have even been here.

But his words, the questions he asked, wouldn't leave Jack alone. Questions about Emmie. Questions that Jack wanted to be able to answer but couldn't. Not until he spoke with Dottie.

He leaned back in his chair and shifted his hips. He was glad Emmie was at their neighbour’s house tonight. Jack would have been lost otherwise. Hospitals were not a place for little girls. He could have called Doug to take Emmie if he needed to. He would have been here in a heartbeat. But it had been a year since Doug last stood in a room with Dottie, and he didn’t think now was the time to break their promise they made to him.

Jack reached into his back pocket and pulled out the business card the detective had given him. He agreed to call if he ever saw the missing child named Emma. Emma. Not Emmie. Or was it? On the kitchen, floor Dottie kept saying the name Emma, but he assumed she was mixed up or the fact she couldn't speak properly was due to the stroke. Could it be possible?

He held the card in his hand. He pictured Emmie when she first came to the house. How quiet she had been. He remembered the nights she would call out for her Mommy, how it tore his heart that she'd been ripped from Mary's arms at such an early age. He remembered the anger he felt towards his daughter, that she couldn't take care of her own child. Jack shook his head. What if that had been all a lie? What if Dottie hadn't taken Emmie out of a hopeless situation where her mother had just died, but instead, took her out of the arms of a mother who loved her?

Detective Riley had painted a picture earlier of a woman who refused to give up searching for her missing daughter. A woman who believed that daughter was Emmie.

Only Dottie was the one who could answer the question the detective raised. Except, Jack wasn't even sure Dottie could answer. She claimed to have no memories of that day. With the drugs she'd been on, Jack wasn't surprised either.

As the heart monitors continued to beep in the corner, Jack closed his eyes. Memories replayed in his mind. Memories of when Emmie first came home. Memories of his own daughter. Memories of Dottie and how she would react to certain things when it came to Emmie.

He snapped his eyes open and sat up straight. As much as it broke his heart, he had a phone call to make.

Two wrongs don't make a right. Isn't that how the saying goes?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Megan drummed her fingers on her knees.

“Can you please stop?”

Her fingers stilled. Her leg bounced instead.

“We need to talk.”

Megan glanced over at Peter. His jaw jutted out and his lips tightened.

Megan kept silent. Whatever he had to say, she couldn’t hear it right now.

“I called your mother before we left. She’s going to make all the arrangements for us.”

Megan stared out the window and watched the corn stalks stand tall in the early morning light. Miles of corn stretched out before them, intermitted with farmhouses and barns. She wondered how life in the country would be any different than in town, apart from the obvious smells.

“Are you listening to me?”

She took in a deep breath and forced herself to count to five. He wanted to do this now? Now, when they were almost at the farmhouse? She reached into her purse and fingered the candle she’d wished upon. Was it only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Yes, I heard you,” she heaved a sigh and turned in her seat so she faced him. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? Can’t you wait til tomorrow? Or maybe next week?”

“I also booked an appointment with the counselor,” Peter whispered.

Megan sat back in her seat. Her heart wrenched and her throat tightened as she processed what he’d just said.

“Why?” Her breath carried the word as she exhaled.

Peter reached across and laid his hand on hers. He gave it a small squeeze.

“Because I think we need to figure out what we want, what we need. All we’ve done is accuse each other lately. We need to rebuild the trust between us.”

He was right about the lack of trust. The accusations they’ve thrown at each other prove that.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Her heart shattered into minuscule pieces at the thought. What about the girls? What would it do to them to have Peter leave?

“I’ll always be here.” Peter’s grasp tightened.

Megan didn’t respond. They’d reached the farmhouse where they were to meet Detective Riley.

*****

“We’re here,” Megan choked on the words.

Peter slowed the Jeep and turned into the driveway.

A light blazed from inside the quaint farmhouse windows as they drove down the gravel driveway. It reminded her of an old farmhouse her grandparents used to live in. She thought about the people who lived there, what they were like, who they were. I hope it's a happy house.

“Why are we here anyways? Are you sure Riley didn't say anything?” Megan muttered the question. It wasn't the first time she'd asked it, and she didn't expect to hear an answer from Peter.

She hardly slept last night. She tossed and turned. Her mind would play tricks on her, a childish giggle would fill the room and she'd dissolve into tears, again. It was hard to say goodbye when there was no closure, when your heart wasn't into it. She’d finally headed down to the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea. She’d pulled out the family photo albums and thumbed through them. Wishful thoughts of the way things were when they were newly married, and then as new parents. A light had reflected in their eyes, a happiness that settled deep within. A happiness that was now missing.

Detective Riley's black car was ahead of them. He leaned against his car as he watched them drive up. Megan couldn't read the expression on his face. She wasn’t sure she wanted to even try.

The Jeep crawled to a stop. Peter grabbed Megan's hand and squeezed. She glanced down at their hands entwined together. There had to be hope. Hope for them. Hope for their family. She glanced up into Peter’s eyes. He stared back. Once upon a time, she’d garnered strength from this man she married. She thought she’d lost that strength, but it was always here. Why did she think she didn’t need it? Why did she think she had to do it all on her own?

Riley straightened and took a step towards them.

Peter released her hand and opened his door. Megan did the same. Despite her nervous energy, her body reacted as if on automatic. One foot in front of the other until she stood in front of Riley. Peter held out his hand to her. She reached for it and squeezed. She needed a life line to hold on to, an anchor to steady her. Her skin tingled as if on edge.

“Why are we here, Riley? What is going on?” Megan bit her lip. She wanted to ask more, to demand more answers. She couldn't handle the secrecy, the unknown.

Riley jerked his head towards the house and crossed his arms.

“Just a few more minutes.”

Megan's mouth dropped. A few more minutes, for what? What was he talking about?

Peter squeezed her hand. She looked at him. He shook his head.

“You asked us to meet you here. Why?” Peter's voice was low, hard. Megan knew he struggled to hold his emotions in.

Riley let out a long breath and unfolded his arms. He stood straight and faced them.

“Because I knew you needed closure. Your lives have been ripped apart the past two years. I'm hoping that today will help you to move on, to move past the nightmare you've lived. It’s not how we normally handle things, but...”

Megan tried to see if he was telling them anything in his eyes, but they were guarded. She glanced to the farmhouse. The house she hated. It gave off the persona of a quaint old farmhouse, but for Megan, it would forever be branded in her nightmares. It's the house that she thought would answer her dreams, but instead shattered them.

A figure stood in the doorway.

Riley glanced over his shoulder. “Listen. The older man you’re about to meet, his name is Jack and his wife--”

The screen door edged open and Jack stepped through it. He stopped and stared at Megan. Tears streaked down his face. Megan's heart stopped. He took another step past the door and turned. Time stopped for Megan. The seconds it took for Jack to reach his hand inside the door seemed like eternity.

A small figure with curly blond hair in pigtails stepped out of the door. Her gaze was fixed on Jack as she held his hand.

Peter's arms encircled Megan as she took a step forward. He stopped her.

Jack reached inside the door again, this time he withdrew a large suitcase.

Megan's eyes darted from the suitcase to the little girl whose head was turned enough that she couldn't get a full view.

Jack bent down to the ground and opened his arms. The little girl rushed into them, her eyes clenched tight as her little arms squeezed his neck. His lips moved as he whispered words into the little girl's ear. She nodded her head, leaned her head on his shoulder and uttered the words that froze Megan's heart.

“I love you, Papa.”

Megan chocked back a sob as the voice of her daughter reached her ears.

Detective Riley threw his arm out in front of Peter and Megan.

“Wait, please just wait,” he whispered.

Megan's head turned. Riley’s eyes shone bright with unshed tears. She glanced up at Peter and realized that his tears flowed freely down his face as well. His eyes remained fixed on their daughter.

Jack stood up. Emmie's arms were still wound tight around his neck. He gathered his arms around her and held her close to his body. He took a tentative step forward. Emma cried out. He stopped. Megan's heart fluttered as she waited for him to carry her daughter to her. Her daughter. Emma.

Jack whispered more words into Emma's ear. Megan wished with all her heart she knew what he was telling her daughter. Seconds stretched into lifetimes for Megan. Her heart ached as she struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Who do you see, Emmie? Open your eyes, Princess,” Jack's gruff voice broke every inch of self-control Megan had.

“Mama?” Emma whispered. Her voice was hesitant, unsure almost.

The tears Megan tried to withhold overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She let out a loud sob and broke free of the hold of Peter's arms. With speed she didn't imagine possible, Megan rushed across the driveway. Mere inches from her daughter, she stopped and dropped down to her knees. She didn't care that the gravel sank into the skin.

“Emma,” she whispered. Her voice cracked.

“Momma? Papa told me that you weren't in heaven. He said we were lost. You found me.”

Megan opened her arms wide. She needed to feel her daughter's body tight against her own. To ease that ache her arms felt constant for over two years. She couldn't wait to enfold her daughter in her arms.

Emma took the three steps that kept them apart. Her tiny little arms encircled Megan. Megan cried out in relief. Emma. Her daughter. Thank you God, thank you God, she muttered under her breath. She brushed her hand against her daughter's hair and rubbed her back. She stood up on shaky legs but kept a tight hold on her daughter.

As she turned to face Peter, he rushed over and gathered them both in his arms. Her husband, usually so calm and collected, was unable to utter a sound, but his face beamed. Emma scrambled from Megan's arms to Peter's. Megan’s arms were bereft, empty. She wanted to gather her daughter back up, but she stopped herself.

Instead, she leaned her head against Peter's body and marveled at the changes in Emma. No longer the pudgy almost three-year old, Emma had grown, sprouted up into the most precious little girl Megan had ever seen. Those other girls she’d thought looking like Emma, looked nothing like her. Nothing.

When Emma twisted in Peter's arms and stared at the man she called Papa, Megan did the same. Detective Riley had walked over and laid his hand on the older man's arm.

“You need to come with me,” he said. Jack nodded his head, a sad smile on his face. Megan wanted to be angry with him, desired to lash out at him, but she couldn't. The words wouldn't come.

Jack followed Riley to the black car, but stopped when he stood in front of Megan. He hung his head, his shoulders stooped as he clasped his hands in front of him.

“I'm so sorry, I had no idea,” he said. He didn't look up as the words seemed to empty his soul.

“Papa?” Emma twisted in Peter's arms and reached her hand out to him.

“It's okay, Princess,” he winked at Emma, but Megan noticed the sad smile that crept across his face. “Remember we talked about this. It's all going to be okay.” Jack leaned forward and planted a kiss on Emma's head. She buried her face into Peter's neck. Megan reached up and rubbed her back.

Megan was at a loss. Her heart broke for her daughter. She called this man Papa. She wouldn't call him such an endearing word unless she had been loved by him. Her throat, swollen from the sobs she fought to contain, whispered words she never thought she would ever say.

“Thank you. Thank you for giving my daughter back to me.”

Jack's head shook at her words. Heartache and despair filled his eyes.

“I didn’t know. Not until last night. If I had known … little girls, they need their mamas.” Jack’s head dropped. He looked old. Old and frail.

She held her arms out to her daughter who sobbed into her daddy's neck and held on for dear life when Emma grabbed on. Nothing else mattered to Megan but Emma.

Peter walked away from his family and shook Detective Riley's hand. He ignored Jack.

“Thank you. Thank you for finding my daughter,” he said.

“Don't thank me. It was Megan who found your daughter,” Riley said. He opened the car door and held it as Jack sank down in the back seat.

Megan, with Emma still in her arms, joined Peter as he stood beside Riley. Peter placed his arms around her.

“So what happens now? She called him Papa?” Peter asked. His face was turned away from Emma and his voice was low. Megan had to lean closer to hear him.

Detective Riley shut the car door. Megan winced at the sound.

“We'll take him in for questioning. Jack called me this morning and explained what happened two years ago. His wife is ill and in the hospital. Your daughter wasn't hurt, but there will be extensive interviews and consultations with doctors and psychiatrists.” He gave them a smile.

“But this is one story that can only be called a miracle,” Riley said.

Megan tightened her arms around her daughter. She thought about the candle and the wish she’d made.

A miracle indeed.