Emma's Secret: A Novel

her?” Anguish filled her voice as she looked to Peter for answers.
    He reached for her hand and pulled her back down. “Maybe she didn’t see you, Meg. Maybe she saw someone else.” He laid a kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her.
    Megan tried to stop the tears. She curled her arms up across her chest and let herself believe him. Maybe it was true. Emma must have seen someone else. There was no way Megan would have not noticed her. No way. If there was one thing her counselor had mentioned, it was that Megan had been hypervigilant about catching a glimpse of Emma. She didn’t trust anyone else to know her daughter the way she did.
    “It had to have been someone else. I would have known it was her.” She breathed in the musky scent of her husband and was soothed by the gentle strokes on her back.
    “Of course you would have.” He tightened his grip, and Megan cuddled in closer. “You found her when no one else was looking.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    F ebruary 7
    Jack handed me a box today and asked me to mail it while in town getting groceries. It was only a small box, not heavy, and I could hold it in one hand. I knew before I asked what it was for; why didn’t I just keep quiet? Every year, every holiday, Jack sends boxes like this. A shadow passed over his eyes as he whispered that it was for Valentine’s Day.
    What he didn’t say was that it was for Mary.
    I hid myself away in our bedroom. Luckily, Jack understood. I used to do this when Mary was a young child. I needed time to myself. Quiet time, when I could get lost in my own thoughts and not worry about anything else. I’m too old to raise a child. We’re too old.
    Jack wants to reach out to Mary, to convince her to come home and raise Emmie. I think it’s a bad idea. I’m not sure why, but something inside me tells me it wouldn’t work. I told Jack I would try to contact her. But I won’t. I can’t.
    Her last words to me were, “I hate you.” I’ll never forget her tone. Children eventually say that to their parents, but they never believe it, deep down. But Mary did. I heard it in her voice. I don’t know what I did that was so evil, so horrific, to earn her hatred, but it’s there.
    Every day I remind myself that I can do it differently. That I can raise Emmie to be a loving young woman. But every day I’m also reminded of my age and how tired I am, and I get worried. What happens if I die too soon? What if Jack is the one who dies first? What if we die together, like we had talked about, knowing that without each other there is no reason to live? What would happen to Emmie then?

    Megan’s running shirt was soaked. Despite the early hour she’d left the house for her morning run, the humidity had made it a struggle to breathe. Peter had warned her to use the treadmill today, but she thought she’d be able to beat the weatherman at his prediction. She should have listened.
    Hannah opened the door as Megan stumbled up the walkway.
    “Thanks, kiddo,” Megan huffed. Throughout the last half hour, all she could think about was walking into her air-conditioned home. Not even jumping off the pier and into the lake had cooled her off.
    “Dad asked me to keep an eye out for you.” Hannah skipped ahead into the kitchen.
    “Thanks, hon,” Megan called out. She plopped herself down on the stairs and eased off her running shoes. Her entire body was drained. More than likely, she was dehydrated. Her head dropped down to her chest as she reclined against the steps, not caring how uncomfortable it was for her back. She wouldn’t have been able to move if she’d tried.
    “Here.” She opened her eyes to see Peter squatting down in front of her, holding a glass of water with a straw. Megan smiled at him, thankful for his foresight. With her hands heavy at her sides, she let Peter guide the straw to her lips, and she sucked at the water.
    “Do you need me to carry you up to the shower?” His eyes twinkled. “I could always wash your back.”
    Megan rolled her head back and didn’t respond. She wasn’t in the mood to say yes, but she was too tired to say no. Instead, she grunted as he lifted her in his arms and carried her up the stairs. She felt the strain of his muscles against her back as they flexed holding her.
    He sat her on the bed, where she flopped down. Minutes later, the sound of the shower filled their bathroom. She should move, make it look like she was putting an effort into undressing, but her body was