Emma's Secret: A Novel

and wouldn’t let it go. Hannah wanted oatmeal raisin, Alexis went for chocolate chip, and Emma asked for monster cookies. Luckily, Megan had supplies for all three.
    Megan opened a side drawer and searched for an apron that would fit Emma’s small frame. She pulled out a pink flower apron her mother had sewn for Hannah when she was smaller and held it up for Emma to see.
    “Here, kiddo, let’s put this on you to keep your pretty dress clean.” Emma had a fondness for dresses. She rarely wore the jeans or shorts Megan had bought for her after she came home. Actually, it was rare for Emma to wear anything Megan had bought for her. If Emma had her way, she’d always wear the clothes that had been packed in her suitcase. The clothes the
others
had provided for her.
    Emma turned around on the stool and lifted her arms so Megan could tie the apron strings around her waist. She had to wrap the fabric twice before tying it in a knot.
    “Grandma used to do that too,” Emma whispered.
    Megan froze at Emma’s words. She forced herself to take in a deep breath, fighting past the tightness in her chest. Her teeth clenched as she reminded herself to count to five, nice and slow.
    “She did, huh?” Megan lifted her gaze from the bow she’d just made to see Emma nod. Her daughter rarely spoke about the woman who had kidnapped her from their front yard.
    One night, Emma had overheard Detective Riley Thompson, the man who’d been the one to locate Emma after Megan took that picture at the fair, when he’d dropped by to tell them of Dorothy’s passing. Emma should have been in bed, but she’d been sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for Peter to give her a good-night hug. It was Megan who heard her small cry. But it had been too late. Megan knew Emma had heard her say “Thank God” when she learned that Dorothy was dead.
    Ever since that night, Emma rarely smiled, unless she was playing with Daisy.
    Megan made sure there was now a smile on her face. The hesitation in Emma’s eyes slowly disappeared as she lowered her arms and leaned her elbows back down on the island counter. In the beginning, Emma would bring up Jack and Dorothy all the time, asking questions and telling stories. Eventually she stopped. Peter blamed Megan for that. He didn’t mind the stories, saying that it helped them to get to know her again. But to know her daughter, Megan didn’t need to hear stories of a life lived without her.
    “Did you do a lot of baking with her?” She refused to call the woman
grandma.
Despite what Kathy Graham, their family counselor told her, Megan would never accept the relationship between the kidnapper and her daughter.
    Emma smiled for a moment, and Megan winced. It bothered her that Emma would be free with her smiles for
that
woman. She straightened her shoulders and her thinking. Emma was
her
daughter. If anyone was going to earn Emma’s smiles, it should be the one who loved her the most—Megan.
    Emma jumped off the stool and washed her hands at the kitchen sink, holding her hands up high for Megan to see.
    “Good job.” Megan nodded. “We always need to make sure our hands are clean when we’re baking.” She moved to stand beside Emma and repeated the same motions. Emma dried her hands on the red dish towel draped over the oven door handle.
    “Hey, do you remember when we used to make giant cookies and put faces on them with the candies?” Megan casually brought up a memory she was sure Emma would recall. Emma ignored her, just like she always did. And that bothered Megan more than she wanted to admit. Sure, Emma had been young, but she had to remember something from before she was kidnapped. Even Alexis could remember things they’d done before she was three years old.
    Every day, Megan would ask her daughter questions about things from before—before she was taken and raised by another family. She knew she shouldn’t, that Emma had been too young and that she might be putting too much pressure on her, but she couldn’t help it.
    When Emma returned to the chair, Megan handed her the bag of candies. “Okay, kiddo.” She sighed. “These are your cookies, so put as much as you want in.” Emma’s eyes widened in delight as she reached for the bag and peered inside.
    “All of them?”
    Megan pretended to think about that. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the bag. Emma slowly lowered the bag, the smile disappearing from her face. But when Megan finally nodded, she