Emma's Secret: A Novel

like dresses. I feel pretty in them.”
    Peter dropped the shirt and picked up a skirt. “Will you wear a skirt then?”
    Emma shook her head.
    “Why not?” Peter reached for another top in the pile and stood. He paired the two together and held them up for Emma to see. “It’s just a dress cut in half.”
    Emma frowned as she glanced from the outfit in his hands to the dresses hanging in her closet.
    Peter reached for a hanger with two clips on the bottom. He struggled to clip the skirt onto it before adding the shirt on top, pushed some dresses aside, and hung it in the middle.
    “I remember Mommy coming home with bags and bags of clothes for you. Don’t you? She was so excited to buy you new clothes and couldn’t wait to see them on you. How about if you try to wear one new outfit for Mommy?”
    Emma’s eyes widened. He knew she was about to panic. She clutched the blanket in her hands, and her nose flared as she tried to breathe.
    “Not every day, Emma. How about…” Peter tried to think of a day when they had nothing going on. “Sundays? How about on Sundays you try to wear something Mommy bought you? The rest of the time it can be one of your dresses.” He didn’t like seeing Emma this way. Even now, two months later, that woman still had a hold over Emma. He felt helpless.
    It wasn’t until Emma released her grip on the blanket that Peter relaxed. And when she nodded her head in acceptance, he struggled to keep the smile off his face. It was a step in the right direction, at least. He sat back down on the bed and put both of his arms on either side of Emma’s legs. He waited for her to lie back on the pillows before he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
    “I love you, Emma.” There was so much more he wanted to say. Like how she was the glue that put him back together, and that every time she smiled at him, his heart melted. That all he wanted was for her to be happy and loved, and he would do anything, anything to make sure she was always happy. But he couldn’t say it. He didn’t know how to say it.
    But when she reached up and touched his cheek, he knew that she already knew the words he couldn’t say. He patted the dog gently before leaving the room. He switched off the light and was about to close her door when she called out.
    “Daddy?”
    He turned the light back on.
    “I made a picture for Papa today. I think he misses me.”
    Peter leaned against the doorframe.
    “Could you give it to him?”
    He wanted to say no. But when he saw the look in Emma’s eyes, he realized that was the last thing he could say to his daughter.
    “Tell you what. Why don’t you and I go out for breakfast tomorrow and on our way home, we can drop it off at the mailbox.”
    When her eyes lit up, he knew he’d just said the right thing.
    “Really, Daddy? A date, just you and me?”
    Peter winked. “Just you and me, kiddo.” He should have done that a long time ago.
    “Daddy? Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For making Papa happy. I know he misses me, and my letter will cheer him up.”
    Peter could only nod. He didn’t really want to think about Jack. He honestly didn’t care about what would make the old man happy. But the light in his daughter’s eyes told him it made her happy, and that was all that mattered.
    Even if it meant making his wife angry.
    The phone in his pocket vibrated once again.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    M egan thought she’d given herself enough time to make some stops along the way and still arrive before Laurie. She always used to come to Brewster’s Bakery for her morning coffee after dropping the girls off at school, until the Safe Walks program took up more of her time. As the school year ended and after Emma was found, well, she’d kind of preferred to stay close to home.
    She opened the door and the bell above it jingled. She immediately looked down to see whether Shelly Belle was there. Sure enough, the old dachshund raised her head and huffed. Megan bent down and scratched the dog’s big ears and then glanced up at framed photos of Jan’s three dachshunds when they were all young—her babies. Two had died in the last few years, and Megan worried about what Jan would do when Shelly died too.
    Megan couldn’t stop the smile that grew when she thought of Jan Brewster, the owner of the shop who’d helped to raise funds when Emma first went missing.
    During those first few weeks, Megan had lived in a perpetual fog. Jan had come to her rescue. First, she’d brought