[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack (4 page)

Jack,

It’s time for me to put away this journal. It’s been a little bit since I last wrote in here — there wasn’t much to write after I said goodbye to you. I have a new journal now that I write in, one that Doug gave me for my birthday.

Doug — let’s talk about him, shall we?

He’s sitting in your old chair right now. It’s a gorgeous Sunday evening. The leaves are all turning color, creating a
bouquet of happiness
as you once told me. I used to complain that fall meant an end to everything I loved, but you would correct me and say it was the beginning for creating new memories.

In your letter to me, you told me that death isn’t the end of a journey, it’s just the crossroads for new decisions. I’d prefer not to deal with death, but if I must, since I must — I can only pray that the decisions I make are worthwhile.

Mary has accepted your best friend as part of our family now. He’s a constant fixture. He still goes out and helps neighbours before work, but he comes here afterwards. He says it’s for the home cooked meals, but you and I both know it’s more. It’s about a promise.

Doug asked me to marry him. Again.

I haven’t said yes, yet. But I will. Tonight, after I’m finished writing this. I know you’ll never read the words, I know that you are gone from my life forever, but you were my best friend, my lover, my husband. You are the first one who deserves to know this — more than anyone else.

I’ve had to think about why I’m going to say yes. I know why you want me to, but Jack, no matter what you’ve said, no matter what promises were made, ultimately, you’re not God and it’s not okay for you to expect things to happen the way you want them to.

I’m not saying yes for you.

I’m saying yes for Mary. If I say no, I can’t expect him to keep hanging around and taking care of us like he is. And Mary needs him in her life. She needs a father figure to love her and be there for her. I can’t take that away from her.

I’m also saying yes for Doug. I know he loves me, but he loves you more. This was the last thing you asked of him and who am I to take that away from him? He feels like he’s failed you when it’s actually the opposite.

I’m also going to say yes for me. I don’t like being alone. I don’t like having to rely on myself so much. And I’d miss him if he wasn’t here. I’ve grown to really care for him, even though I didn’t want to.

I hope you will be happy for us Jack. I hope that you’re looking down on us with a smile on your face, knowing that the people you loved the most are going to be taking care of each other.

I hope I’ve made the right decision.

There’s a cloud of dust on the horizon. It’s been growing as I’ve sat here, writing you. Do you remember when I told you that I’ll watch for you? When I said that every time a car drove down our road, I prayed it was you? I still do that. I catch myself holding my breath until the vehicle can be seen. There’s always a little seed of disappointment, even today, when I see it’s Doug’s vehicle or when it’s someone else and they pass our house.

I keep thinking that one day it will be you. I know that’ll never happen, not anymore, but old habits die hard.

It’s time to say goodbye. I love you Jack. I will always love you. I promise to make sure that you will always be remembered. Mary will always bake you a cake for your birthday. I’ll always tell her stories from when she was smaller and you were here at home. Doug will tell her stories about you as a kid. We won’t forget you Jack. We’ll never forget you.

Thank you, husband, for looking out for me. Thank you for doing your best to keep your promise to me even when you knew it wasn’t possible. I have to believe that when you died, you thought of me, of us, of our lives together. I have to think that you said
I love you
as you breathed your last breath.

Calling you husband has been the greatest privilege of my life. I want you to know that. I will always cherish that. I will always be
Dottie-mine
.

The vehicle has pulled into the driveway now. It’s hard to make it out, but I don’t recognize the car and neither does Doug. There’s someone in the passenger seat wearing a uniform. Maybe it’s Jonathan. I sent him a letter a little while ago thanking him for bringing your letters home and invited him to come visit. He seemed like a sweet kid, I can see why you took such a liking to him and took him under your wing. You had a good heart Jack Henry.

Doug has gone down to meet whoever is in the vehicle. He’s aged. This war has been hard on him, even though he stayed behind. I hope that he’ll slow down, find others to help take care of the farms in his place. He works too hard. Cares too much. Holds too much responsibility on his shoulders. You’d be proud of him.

He’s a good man and I’ll be happy with him. But then, you all ready knew that, didn’t you? When he comes back to the porch, I think I’ll hand him this journal and ask him to read this last page. He needs to know everything that is in my heart. He needs to know that you’ll always be first and foremost, but that he’ll have a place there too, beside you. I’m a lucky woman to be loved by two men such as you both.

You know, it’s odd…but the man Doug is hugging looks an awful lot like you. It must be because of this letter. Because I’m thinking of you. Except, there’s a look on Doug’s face now that he’s looking at me, as he holds on to the man’s arm.

Jack…is that you?
My hands are shaking. No one is moving. I can hardly breathe. Is that you?
Jack…

THE END

Thank you for reading Dear Jack...a Finding Emma novella.

Dottie is a lady with a tremendous amount of strength and I hope that this little insight helped for you to understand her a little better. These letters were only a portion of one of Dottie’s Diaries and that last entry was
the
last entry for this particular journal.

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The following unedited excerpt is from
Emma’s Secret. Please note that it is subject to change.

The creak of the old wood rocker broke the silence that reigned. Jack knew he should turn on the radio so he wouldn't feel so alone, but there was something in the air tonight, a restlessness he couldn't quite understand.

It was a night for memories.

He let his head sink back until it rested on the worn chair and closed his eyes. Fairies danced before him, their lights flickering as they twirled in the air. Or so Emmie used to say. He could almost feel the weight of her body as if she had snuggled up in his lap, ready for a bedtime story. She'd curl up nice and close, her legs either tight underneath her or hanging loose over his knees as she rested in the crook of his arm. She'd help him turn the pages in the story, but first, they had to close their eyes and wait for the fairies to dance. The fairy lights were only her princess lights that he'd once spent hours tacking onto the wall, Christmas lights Dottie had unearthed from who knows were. But it made their little girl happy to have those lights in her room.

Jack still came up here every night to read Emmie a bed time story. He didn't dare tell any of the boys. His head knew that she wasn't here anymore, but his heart, his feet...one moment he'd be down in the kitchen and the next he'd be opening her bedroom door to see if she was ready for bed. Seeing the empty bed covered with the stuffed animals that she didn't take with her, near broke his heart every time.

He snuggled the floppy-eared bunny Emmie had given him on the day they had packed her suitcase closer, and sighed. He missed his girls so much, sometimes it physically hurt. Never would he have ever thought he could lose so much in so little time. He'd just started to grieve for his Mary, when Dottie collapsed and was taken to the hospital. He had to give up Emmie, only to have Dottie pass away in her sleep, oblivious to his pain and the turmoil her actions had caused.

Or maybe she did know. Deep down, Jack suspected Dottie couldn't live with the guilt anymore. That was why she never woke up from her coma. That would be why, just moments before she breathed her last, she had squeezed his hand three times in succession. Her private goodbye, her final 'I love you'.

He just wished he'd had the chance to say goodbye back. To tell her he loved her and that he understood why she did what she did. That didn't mean it was right, just that he understood. But Dottie had died before he understood her message.

With a groan, Jack pushed himself up from the chair, his old bones cracking from the exertion. He headed over to Emmie's bed and laid the bunny down on the pillow, smoothing the fur as he did so. He knew it was silly and perhaps could be blamed on his old age, but he'd promised his little girl that he would take care of her bunny. He'd never broken a promise to Emmie and he wasn't about to start now, no matter how it looked.

He thought about the half-written letter he'd left on the kitchen table. Did she even receive his letters? Did she know that he had planted a rose bush in his front garden just for her and that he'd cut the first bloom the other day?

Probably not. He knew if he were in their shoes, the last thing he would do is allow his daughter to remain in contact with her kidnappers.

Jack climbed down the stairs to make himself a cup of tea before bed. It was a heavy burden to carry, knowing that he'd been instrumental in tearing a family apart. He'd never forgive himself for that. He should have known from the beginning, when Emmie first came home with Dottie, that something was wrong. Just because he didn't, didn't make him innocent.

"Oh, Dottie mine, you sure made a mess of things."

Jack didn't like to be alone. While the stillness never bothered him, the silence did. He'd confessed to his doctor that he found it easier to talk to Dottie as if she were there with him, and he'd been half ready for the doctor to admit it was time to go into a nursing home. But the doctor only nodded and said that was normal. Normal, as though
- as if
talking to the dead was something he was used to hearing. Jack shook his head at the thought. Back in the day, if his daddy had started to talk to his momma after she'd passed away, everyone would have said he'd lost it and the only place for him was a home. But nowadays, it was “normal.”

He pushed away the dirty dishes left in the sink to make room for the kettle and filled it with water. If Dottie were here, she would have smacked his hand for leaving dirty dishes lying around. But then, if Dottie were here, there would be no dirty dishes.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, Jack began the slow process of tackling the dishes. He made sure to wring the cloth dry, a lesson Dottie had taught him after finding too many smelly dish cloths lying in her sink. He cut a slice of store-bought apple pie, topping it with a piece of cheese and knew, even before he took a bite, that it wouldn't taste anything close to what Dottie used to make.

He missed her more than he thought possible. This house was never meant to be so empty, so void of laughter, of childish giggles, or even of companionable silence. He often thought that he would die with Dottie, together in their bed, when they were both older and more tired. But not yet. Not now. He had never envisioned what life would be like alone.

God sure had a way of playing jokes on him. He'd promised Dottie the day he returned from the war that he'd never leave her alone again. Guess this meant he had kept his promise.

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~~~

An Excerpt from Finding Emma:

A child’s scream shattered the peaceful silence of the Sunday afternoon.

Megan shot up from the blanket, her heart hammering as she scanned the street in front of her. She groaned as two of her daughters squirted each other in a water gun fight as they came up the walkway. She’d dozed off. Again. The late nights working on Peter’s books had to stop. Yesterday she’d woken up to find Emma across the street at the neighbors’, half crawled into their dog house.

She glanced down at her youngest child who played with a dandelion on the blanket. Thank God, she was still there. Her three-year-old gazed in rapture at the sky.

“Red balloon, Momma?”

Megan twirled her fingers in Emma’s tight curls. “Later, honey.”

“Red, Momma. Red balloons,” Emma gestured towards the sky with her pudgy fingers. Megan turned her head and noticed the explosion of color that filled the air. Red, yellow and blue balloons danced with the breeze as they swept across the sky.

The annual carnival was here, just in time for the end of school celebration their small town always held. It was also Emma’s birthday. Megan wished for time to stand still. Her baby was growing too fast.

“Mom, can we have a popsicle?” Hannah shook droplets of water over Megan’s bare legs. She gasped at the coldness. Laughing, Megan jumped up and backed away from her soaked daughter only to find a giggling Emma clutched around her leg.

“Don’t you come any closer.” Megan had a hard time keeping the smile off her face before a sparkle of mischief lit up Hannah’s blue eyes as she lunged across the blanket. Laughing, Megan scooped up Emma, ran towards the front door and closed the screen in Hannah’s face. Alexis crossed the driveway, stepping over Megan’s gladiola and aimed the almost empty water gun at her older sister.

“Alexis Marie Taylor, if you douse your sister in more water, she’ll get your half of the popsicle,” Megan warned. Alexis’ eyes widened as she dropped the water gun on the grass and bounded across to the porch before placing her arms around Hannah’s shoulders.

“Would I do that?” Alexis tilted her head and beamed the most innocent smile Megan had ever seen.

Megan snorted. “No monkey business you two or Emma and I will eat your popsicles. Got it?” Megan narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Who knew, maybe the serious look would do the trick?

“Come on in and get dried off. Your dad should be home soon.” She opened the screen door for the girls to come in and then locked it. The past couple of days Emma had snuck outside behind Megan’s back to catch some butterflies. Or try to at least.

For dinner, they were going downtown to watch the parade and eat corn dogs, candied apples and cotton candy at the carnival. The girls were so excited. Peter had even promised the girls he’d win them each a stuffed teddy bear and Megan couldn’t wait to show Emma the clowns.

“Why don’t we play a game of hopscotch while we wait for your dad?” Megan called after the girls as they ran up the stairs to change. She loved being a mother, even though having three girls so close in age exhausted her. Being a mom fulfilled her in more ways than she thought possible.

“Hey, Em? How about we make some more lemonade? This time we’ll add less sugar.” She’d let the girls make it just after lunch and Alexis had almost dumped the whole container of sugar in the bowl.

The phone rang just as footsteps pounded down the stairs.

“Just going out to grab my hair band,” Hannah yelled.

“Lock the door when you come back in,” Megan called out just as the screen door slammed.

With the phone balanced between her shoulder and ear, Megan opened the fridge and rooted inside for the filtered water jug. She groaned when she realized it was empty. She’d forgotten to fill it after pouring a glass earlier. The automated message informed her that the Sears catalogue order was in. She frowned. She hadn’t ordered anything. When the automated voice repeated its message, Megan grabbed her daily calendar and flipped through the last few weeks to see if she’d written down anything. Weird. There was nothing in her notes.

A quick glance at the clock after hanging up the phone confirmed Peter should be home any minute.

“All right, pumpkin, let’s go change your pull-up and get ready to watch the parade. Just wait till you see the clowns—” Megan turned towards Emma only to find herself talking to an empty room.

“Emma?” Megan walked into the living room fully expecting to find Emma in there, playing with her new ponies Peter had given her before he left for work.

The room was empty.

She retraced her steps and headed out to the hallway.

“Emma, are you upstairs? Girls, is your sister with you?” Megan took a step, gripped the railing and waited to hear Emma’s running footsteps. She didn’t remember hearing the slam of the screen door when Hannah came back in.

“Not here,” Hannah called out.

Startled, Megan took her foot off the step, glanced around and looked at the screen door. “Hannah, did you lock the door like I told you to?” She fought to keep the panic out of her voice as she ran across the hallway to the open door.

Megan couldn’t breathe.

Unlocked.

“Emma!” Megan ran outside calling her baby’s name. She stopped in the middle of the driveway and scanned the area. Nothing. She wasn’t chasing butterflies, pulling flowers out of the garden or playing with dandelions. She wasn’t anywhere.

Megan screamed as loud as she could as tears streamed down her face.

Emma was gone.

~~~

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