“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.
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 unconscio
us 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 do
or 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.
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