Emma's Secret: A Novel

dedicated to the memory of Dottie’s family. Their ashes were buried beneath the tree roots, encased in cedar boxes that Jack had made over the years. Planting a tree was one of Dottie’s family traditions, and he knew she would expect nothing less for her own remains.
    He’d planted this tree in the front yard so that he’d always see it. He loved to sit on the front porch; it was his resting place, where he could look out over his flowers and feel a sense of pride. The backyard reminded him too much of Dottie, with her flower garden now overgrown, the chairs beneath the tree branches, and the tire swing he’d hung for Emmie.
    He wasn’t ready to sit among those memories yet.
    Besides, Dottie needed a place of honor. She deserved it.
    He lowered himself onto the wood bench next to the tree and pulled out some leaves that had fallen into the wooden bucket planters beside it. Otherwise, the flowers bloomed healthy and hale. But then he made sure to water them at the same time he watered Dottie’s tree.
    “Well, Dottie-mine. I saw her. I saw our girl.” His voice choked on the words. “She looks good. Growing like a weed. And she’s happy. Our girl is happy.” Jack swiped away at his wet cheeks.
    “I wish you could have seen her, honey, one last time before you left. She misses you. She was telling me how she likes to bake with her mom, and how she’s a good little helper because you used to let her help you. She’ll never forget you, Dottie. You’ll always be her grandma.”
    Jack leaned back on the bench and crossed his legs in front of him. He should have worn his hat. Sweat dripped down his neck, and he was feeling drowsy from the heat.
    The gentle buzz of a bee filled the air amid the chirping from a nest at the side of the house. He closed his eyes and let the peace wash over him. He wasn’t much for getting emotional, but he couldn’t hide it from Dottie. He never could. She could always see right through him.
    “If you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you I’d be coming to see you real soon. I was ready, baby. To see your face again, to hold you in my arms, to listen to you rail at me for letting my flowers go…I miss you, Dottie-mine. But I can’t now. Not after seeing our girl. I can’t leave her.” Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the tree. “I want to show her this tree, explain to her what it means. I’m not sure if that will ever happen, but I want the chance in case it does.”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
    “Her father is a good man. I knew it was hard for him when Em saw me. If I were him, I’d have taken her out of the store and called the police.” Jack lifted his gaze to the sky and shook his head. “He’s a stronger man than I could ever be, Dottie-mine. He’s going to bring her back to the donut shop. Can you believe it? Not everyday, but maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to see her once every few weeks. I can’t let her down. What if she comes and I’m not there?” He tried to clear his dry throat, but it hurt. “I know I’m just a foolish old man, but I can’t give up hope.”
    Jack unfolded the picture in his hands. “She drew us something. Our Emmie. She’s quite the artist. I thought she’d have forgotten us by now, but she hasn’t.” Jack traced the images on the paper. “We’re all holding hands, Dottie-mine. Our girl…” The image blurred in front of him. Jack berated himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. He didn’t want to lose this picture.
    “She drew us. You, me, and her. Holding hands, with Daisy. I’m going to frame it and put it in the living room, right next to the other ones she made for us.”
    Jack cleared his throat. “Be happy, Dottie-mine. Be happy and at peace. All is well, and I’ll see you soon.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    D ecember 9
    My heart is so heavy, and I’m so angry lately.
    I know Jack is concerned. He has an anxious look in his eyes when I lash out at him, but the old man, he doesn’t say anything.
    I’m afraid that I’ll lose everyone I love, and I’m afraid of what that means—being alone. I’m scared.
    I have nightmares most nights. Even my dreams are filled with empty coffins.
    Yesterday passed so quickly. There are moments I can’t recall anything that went on.
    I almost broke down last night with Jack during our tea, but then I heard Emmie’s cries throughout the house and I went to comfort her. She