Emma's Secret: A Novel

“No, I can take care of her.” There was a wildness to her eyes that unsettled Megan. She wrapped her arms around Hannah and held her close.
    “I know you can, honey. You always do.”
    She saw the protest building in Hannah’s eyes, and she pulled back and held up her finger to stop whatever words Hannah was going to utter. “Listen, you’ve been such a huge help for me with Emma since she came home, but it’s summertime, and you should be out playing with your friends instead of trying to keep Emma entertained during the day.”
    “But, Mom—”
    Megan shook her head. “No, honey. This is all my fault. Ever since Emma came home, you’ve stuck to her side like glue, and I’ve let you.”
    Hannah’s lips trembled. “I’m just trying to help. To make sure she stays safe.”
    Megan’s heart sagged. “Because you feel it’s your fault she wasn’t safe in the first place?”
    Hannah nodded.
    “Oh, honey,” Megan’s chest constricted at the depth of her daughter’s pain. “That wasn’t your fault. Nothing that happened that day was your fault.” Megan reached up to touch her daughter’s cheek.
    “I need you to believe me. When we lost Emma, it wasn’t your fault at all. And keeping Emma safe now isn’t your job; it’s mine. Mine and your dad’s.” She wasn’t sure what it would take for her eldest daughter to believe that.
    “I’m so sorry, Hannah, that I let you live with the guilt of losing Emma. It was never your fault.” Tears misted in Megan’s eyes as she watched her daughter take in her words. Did she believe her? Was it too late?
    “I need to be with her, Mom.” Hannah’s voice quavered as she gazed down at Emma.
    “I know.” Megan said. She rubbed Hannah’s arm for a few moments before she let go.
    Hannah stepped back, but not before she bent down and laid a kiss on the top of Emma’s head. It broke Megan’s heart to see her daughters like this, knowing that it was partially her fault. No, if she were honest, she’d admit it was all her fault. Hannah wasn’t old enough to take on the role of mothering a five-year-old, and yet that was exactly what was happening.
    Megan bent down and gathered Emma in her arms. She wanted to cry when Emma rested her head against her shoulder but kept her eyes closed. She should have kept a better eye on her youngest daughter.
    “You just don’t trust me,” Hannah whispered before she walked away.
    Megan heard her, but instead of turning and calling out to her eldest daughter like she should have, she pretended she didn’t hear. It was hard, but she needed to concentrate on Emma at the moment. When she tucked Hannah in tonight, she’d talk to her about the whole trust issue.
    Hannah wasn’t the one she didn’t trust. It was herself.

    Jack looked at his house, at the white porch and dirty windows. He needed it to become his home again. Jack stood and straightened his back. With Emmie back in his life, he had a whole new reason for living.
    He wasn’t going to give her up again. Not this time.
    The old house creaked around Jack as he puttered around, picking up piles of things he’d long forgotten about. He’d let the housework lapse, and if he had to look deep, he knew he was reacting to all the changes in his life instead of acting.
    The loneliness was starting to get to him. Talking with Dottie today reminded him of that. And if he didn’t smarten up, he’d soon regret it. He had a lot to live for, even if his old heart didn’t want to accept that. He didn’t care what the doctor said at his last appointment. He’d live to be one hundred if he had his way. What did his doctors know? Nothing. Not the important stuff, anyway.
    He tapped his heart twice with the palm of his hand. “You’re living for Emmie now, you hear?”
    That was all that mattered anymore. Just his little girl.
    He stood at the base of the stairs from the kitchen and looked up. Maybe he could pack up some of her favorite books she’d left behind, or maybe one of the stuffed animals, and make sure he had them with him the next time he saw her. She might like that. Jack heaved his body up the stairs, his grip on the handrail firm.
    There were a few old suitcases high on a shelf in his closet. He could always use one of those to put Emmie’s things in. He should probably also use a few of them for Dottie’s things. He was running out of boxes, and he didn’t need the extra luggage anymore.
    When he stepped into his room, the amount of clutter hit