Finding Emma by Steena Holmes Page B

in the eye. He'd give her a few minutes to think about what he said. He'd learned the hard way with Mary that promising to keep secrets from his wife did more damage than anything else.
    She kept her head bent. Jack noticed she wouldn't look him in the eyes. This must be bad. He placed his finger underneath his chin and gently tilted her head up until she looked at him. Her lips trembled.
    “I have a friend, Papa,” she said. Her eyes sparkled as she told him her secret. Jack bit back his smile.
    “You do?”
    He took his hand out of hers and placed it on the counter. With a groan, he used it as leverage to help him stand. Emmie stepped forward and offered her hand, which he took. He grunted as his back screamed in agony and his knees locked together.
    “What's her name?”
    “Friend.”
    Her answer took him aback. Friend? What kind of name is that? Maybe Dottie found one of Mary's old porcelain dolls and gave it to her. But why would she want this to be a secret?
    “She wore a yellow dress, Papa, just like the flowers on my dress. And she gave me a popsicle too. But Daisy ate it. Well, she licked it. But then she sat. Papa, she sat. And my friend, she likes Daisy. She says she's a good puppy.” Emmie's face beamed with happiness as the secret burst out of her.
    Jack looked at her picture again. At the two little girls in a field of yellow flowers and Daisy sitting beside them. This must be the age of imaginary friends. Jack tried to remember if Mary ever went through this stage, but he didn't think she had.
    Jack turned back to the ingredients on the counter. It had been awhile since he last surprised his girls with a homemade breakfast, but if memory served, French toast wasn't that hard.
    “Can I play with her, Papa?” His shirt tugged at the back. He looked over his shoulder and saw Emmie's hand had a firm hold on his shirt.
    “Of course you can. Any friend who likes Daisy is a good one.” No harm in that. He'd read an article in one of those parent magazines he bought Dottie for Christmas. A child's imagination is a powerful tool.
    “Now?”
    About to crack open an egg, Jack stopped. Now?
    “Well, if you want to? But be quiet okay, Grandma's still sleeping.”
    He expected to hear her footsteps scurry up the stairs, but instead it was the sound of the screen door as it slammed into its frame that shocked him. Dottie had been after him to fix the hinge on that door, but right at this moment, he was glad he hadn't.
    Jack dropped a half-cracked egg into the bowl and hurried over to the door. Emmie, half way across the yard, was skipping up the hill to the fence that separated their property from the neighbors.
    “Emmie!”
    She stopped mid-skip and turned. He could see the confusion on her face. He blinked his eyes. So, not an imaginary friend? He motioned with his hand for her to come back and waited. She didn't skip back. She took tiny steps with her head bent as she held the picture in her hand, one trailed to the side. When she reached the porch, he held out his hand and waited for her to take it.
    “Emmie, you still have your pajamas on. You can't go out to play in those.”
    His granddaughter looked up at him, hope filled her eyes.
    “After?”
    He didn't know how to respond. He thought she was talking about an imaginary friend, not the kids from next door. But when she looked up at him with those big baby blue eyes, saying no wasn't an option. He ruffled her hair a bit.
    “Tell you what, Princess, after breakfast we'll talk to Grandma and see what she has to say.”
    The moment Emmie's eyes clouded over and her bottom lip stuck out in a royal pout, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Seemed like Dottie had been a tad bit overprotective lately. He watched as Emmie stared at the picture she held in her hands. He might be an old man with a waning memory, but he could still put two and two together. His baby girl found a new friend, 'bout time too.
    “You know, having friends is never a bad thing. I know