Emma's Secret

Emma's Secret book

Coming June 25, 2013!

A family struggles to adapt when their five-year-old daughter,
missing for two years, returns home and all is not perfect.

Buy on Amazon

Media Tour

Synopsis

When their five-year-old daughter, Emma, is miraculously found alive, Megan and Peter are overjoyed that their nightmare is finally over.

But Emma is vastly different from the sunny toddler who disappeared two years earlier. She barely remembers her parents or her older sisters. She is quiet and withdrawn, and, worst of all, longs for the very people who kidnapped her.

Megan is consumed with bitterness, while Peter works later and later nights in the company of his gorgeous business partner. And in the middle of everything, Megan’s best friend has become suddenly distant and secretive.

Then a chance encounter at the local donut shop leads to a secret that changes everything again. And Peter must decide between the happiness of his youngest daughter and the trust of his family.

Excerpt

Megan shut off the vacuum. She popped her head up and scanned the family room. When she’d started cleaning, Emma was sitting in the big corner chair playing with her dolls. Now only Megan was in the room. She listened for Daisy’s bark or the other girls playing, but heard nothing.

“Girls?” Her voice slightly squeaked. When there was no answer, she dropped the vacuum handle.

She checked to make sure the front door was locked and the alarm still set, then ran into the kitchen and looked out the patio doors. Hannah and Alexis sat on the deck, their legs stretched out, soaking in the sun.

Megan scanned the yard. Where was Emma? Why couldn’t she see her? Megan wrenched open the sliding doors.

“What’s up?” Alexis sat up and raised her sunglasses.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Right here.” Alexis nudged Hannah’s shoulder.

Hannah frowned. “Not me, you moron. Emma.” She turned back. “I thought she was with you?” Hannah pushed herself up from her elbows, a panicked look on her face.

“She was, until I started vacuuming.” Megan’s heart raced, yet she struggled to keep her voice calm.

“She might be up in her room with the dog,” Alexis volunteered before she laid back down. “And don’t call me a moron.”.

Hannah stood up, but not before giving her sister a disgusted look. “I’ll take a look.”

Megan shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it. Sit back and don’t fight. I’ll make you guys some lemonade in a few minutes.” She closed the sliding door and pivoted on her heel.

“Emma?” she called out, unable to keep the frantic tone out of her voice. Where was she?

Megan ran to the stairs and flew up several steps when a rhythmic thumping against the carpet stopped her.

Emma must be in her room with Daisy.

She climbed the remaining stairs quietly, and heard to her daughter hum a familiar song. It worried her that Emma’s first place to run to was her room, alone and away from her sisters. She should be blooming, like the roses in their backyard, instead of wilting now that she was back with her family.

Megan clenched her fists as she thought about the damage they had inflicted upon her daughter. She should be a loud, vibrant child full of energy and sass, not a quiet child who rarely spoke and found solace with her dog instead of her family.

Emma’s door was slightly ajar and she sat on the floor, her back against her bed and her feet propped up against the far wall. Daisy’s tail was in view, thumping wildly on the floor. She couldn’t completely see what they were doing, but Megan had a feeling Daisy’s head lay on Emma’s lap while she stroked her fur.

Nothing in Emma’s room was out of place. Her bed was made, her stuffed bears lined up in a row against her pillows, the floor clear of any toys, and the lid of her laundry basket down. Peter had put together a little bookcase where she kept her toys, baskets, and books. Even those were organized.

Emma was the only neat freak in the house—a trait she must have picked up from living with those other people. Her sisters’ rooms were a mess, and it was all Megan could do to get them to keep the floor clean. It wasn’t normal for a five-year-old to be so tidy.

“I miss Papa, Daisy. Don’t you? I bet you miss running around in the backyard the most.”

Megan gripped the doorframe. Emma’s soft voice walloped her heart into tiny pieces.

“I miss the fairy lights, too. They were so pretty.”

Fairy lights? This was the first time Emma had mentioned anything like that.

“Hey, Emma?” Megan whispered into the room.

“I miss Grandma’s muffins and her bread and the way she smelled. I think it’s ’cause she baked so much. I hope she’s happy in heaven now and gets to bake bread all day long. Maybe Papa is going to go see her soon. Then I’ll be sad, ’cause I’ll be all alone.” Emma’s head disappeared from view.

Megan’s heart hurt. How could she think she’d be alone?

“Emma?” Megan whispered again. She tried to make her voice louder but couldn’t. Her daughter didn’t hear her anyway. She seemed lost in her own little world.

Megan took a step into the room. She could have been a ghost, silent and unseen. Daisy didn’t even notice her presence. On top of Emma’s bed was a notebook, one of many Megan had bought for her to draw pictures in. It lay open, and there was an image of a small yellow dog and a girl sitting outside with round red circles floating above them.

As hard as she tried, Megan couldn’t get Emma to admit she remembered much of the day when she was taken. But deep down, that memory had to be there. She just knew it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t remember the red balloons they watched floating in the sky that day. They’d planned to take the girls to their town fair to celebrate Emma’s birthday, and instead spent the day searching for their lost daughter.

Megan took in a deep breath. She was going to do something she’d thought of for a while now. She wasn’t sure whether she was ready for the reaction, though.

“Hey, Emmie?” Megan kept her voice at the same low level as the previous times she’d called for her daughter. This time, Emma’s head lifted in response.

As much as it hurt, Megan placed a smile on her face as her daughter smiled back at her.

“It’s beautiful outside. Do you want to help me make some lemonade?”

Megan stepped into the room as Daisy lifted her head from Emma’s lap. When she smoothed out her dress and wiped at the tears in her eyes, Megan knew that she couldn’t pretend Emma’s responding to her other name didn’t happen. Even though she wanted to. So, she sat down on Emma’s bed, pushed the book out of the way, and held out her arms. When Emma crawled up into her lap, Megan rested her cheek against the top of her daughter’s head and struggled to find words.

“What are fairy lights?”

Emma’s body stiffened for a moment before she relaxed. “Grandpa put pretty lights in my room. They went from one corner to the next”—Emma pointed upward—“so I wouldn’t feel lonely.”

Megan wrapped a strand of Emma’s hair around her fingers. She was talking about Christmas lights. “That was nice of him.”

Emma nodded her head and sniffed. Daisy lay down across Megan’s toes and whined for attention.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

Emma nodded again.

Megan lifted her daughter’s face so that she could look into her eyes. Teardrops hung from her long eyelashes.

“Would you like some fairy lights in your room? I think we have some extra ones in the basement. Maybe you could help me hang them up?”

Emma’s eyes widened before a smile stretched across her face. Megan cherished the moment Emma wrapped her arms around her. Every gesture, every smile, every hug would never be taken for granted. Never again.

“It must be hard to have two names, isn’t it?” Megan kept the tone of her voice light.

Emma’s lips tightened and her brows knotted together for a brief moment before she shook her head.

“No? Are you sure?”

A frantic look crept into her little girl’s face. Her eyes widened, her nose flared, and a tiny tremor swept through her body. “My name is Emma.”

Daisy stood up and barked. Emma’s panic was palpable, and Megan hated herself for doing this to her little girl.

“It’s okay, honey. Your name is Emma. But sometimes it can be Emmie, too.” She paused for a few seconds. “Right?”

Emma’s arms unwound themselves from around Megan’s body. Her shoulders tensed under Megan’s touch.

“Only to Papa,” Emma whispered.

Megan swallowed. Papa. Of course. He had a piece of Emma’s heart, and there was nothing Megan could do about it. No matter how hard she tried.

“Did you know, when you were just a baby, I used to call you Emmie?”

“You did?”

Megan nodded. “Late at night, when I would hold you close to my heart and rock you to sleep, I would call you Emmie and kiss your forehead.” She held her breath as her daughter snuggled close to her again. “A special girl can have as many special names as she wants, just as long as she remembers one thing.”

“What?” Emma whispered.

“That you’ll always be mine.” She kissed the soft skin of Emma’s forehead, wishing for time to stand still.

“Always,” Emma said.

Megan tightened her hold. “Always.”

Emma’s Art

Emma loves to draw as most five-year-old girls like to do. She draws pictures for Papa, for Mommy and Daddy, but most of all, she draws pictures to help her express her feelings. These are drawings that will be scattered throughout Emma’s Secret.

Emma's Farm Family