Emma's Secret: A Novel

him over her shoulder. “A cookie.”
    His brow rose. “That’s one big cookie. Sure hope you saved some for me.”
    She reached for another crayon and started to print in the corner,
I am
, before she stopped and looked at him again. “How do you spell ‘sorry’?”
    Peter spelled it out for her, watching her carefully form the letters across the page.
    “What are you sorry for, Emma?” He couldn’t think of any reason she would need to apologize to Megan.
    Emma didn’t answer. Instead, she carefully took each crayon scattered around her and returned them back to the container.
    “I hurt Mommy’s feelings,” she finally whispered.
    Peter’s body wilted at her words. He waited for her to finish cleaning up, but the moment she stood, he gathered her into his arms and lifted her up onto his lap. Daisy jumped up beside them.
    “Want to tell me what happened?” He pulled her close until her back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. Tendrils of her hair tickled his chin as she shook her head.
    Peter rested his chin on the top of her head. “Did you eat all the chocolate chips that were supposed to go in the cookies today?”
    Emma shook her head again.
    “Did you eat all the cookies and forget to leave her one?” He made sure there was a lighthearted tone to his voice.
    She shook her head again, but this time she looked back at him.
    Peter lifted his shoulders up high and then dropped them down. “I don’t know what you would have done, then, to make her sad.”
    Emma’s bottom lip protruded before she lowered her gaze and snuggled back close to his chest. Peter tightened his arms around her.
    “I miss Grandma.”
    Peter’s heart crumbled inside his chest. It wasn’t the words that hurt, but the way she spoke them. As if he would be angry with her.
    “I’m sure you do, honey. She was very special to you, wasn’t she?”
    Emma didn’t respond. It didn’t take much for Peter to realize what might have happened today.
    “Did you used to make cookies with…her?”
    Emma nodded. “And muffins, bread, cakes. She let me break the eggs too.” She squirmed in his arms until he loosened his hold on her.
    “Breaking those eggs can be pretty tricky. You must be really good at that.”
    Emma’s head bobbed up and down. “But Mommy didn’t let me do the eggs today.”
    Peter tilted his head. “Does Mommy know how awesome you are at breaking eggs?”
    Emma shook her head.
    “Then I guess we’d better tell her, huh? I happen to know that’s her least favorite part of baking. Did you know that?”
    Emma’s eyes widened at the news.
    “Yep.” Peter nodded. “She always gets pieces of shells in the batter, and I always end up eating them. Have you ever eaten an eggshell?” Emma shook her head. “Trust me, it doesn’t taste good.”
    “I can do it, Daddy.” Emma leaned back and straightened her shoulders.
    “I know you can, honey. Of that I have no doubt. Now, how about we get you and Daisy all tucked into bed before Mommy comes home, okay?” He lifted her off his lap and stood. Emma scampered under the covers and then straightened the small blanket that Daisy slept on. It was their one condition for the dog sleepingwith Emma: never under the covers and always on top of the blanket.
    Peter reached for her lion and stroked its fluffy mane. Emma reached out her hands. “Can I have Tiger, please, Daddy?” He loved the fact that this was still her favorite stuffed animal. He’d bought it for her the day she was born. When she’d first disappeared, Peter was able to find a little bit of comfort knowing that the lion was with her.
    “You know this is really a lion, right?” He winked at her.
    Emma shrugged. “I know.” She tucked her lion beside her, beneath the covers.
    Peter picked up Emma’s clothes from the floor and dropped them into her hamper. The closet door stood open, and he couldn’t help but notice the pile of clothes on the floor. The other day, Megan had mentioned that Emma’s room was always so neat. She must not have seen her closet.
    “Emma, why are all these clothes on the floor?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw a flash of anger on his daughter’s face. Anger?
    “I don’t like them.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.
    Peter knelt down and picked up a shirt from the pile. “But this is a nice top your mommy bought you. What’s wrong with it?”
    She gave him a look he would have expected from Alexis. “I