Read Online Cross My Heart, Hope to Die by Sara Shepard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sara Shepard
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Emma’s hand in his and squeezed. “That really wasn’t how I wanted you to meet your mother,” he said.
“Yeah,” she muttered, looking out the passenger window. She could just make out the hole Mr. Mercer had dug in the lawn before his accident. He’d been planning to plant something there, but in the dark it looked like a fresh grave.
“I’m so sorry,” Mr. Mercer went on. “It must have been hard to see her like that.”
Emma didn’t say anything. Her body felt bruised and weak. She’d always imagined she might look for her mother someday, track her down with a private investigator or maybe by herself, with her own research skills. Sometimes in her fantasies, she told Becky off for abandoning her. Sometimes she ran to her, threw her arms around her neck, and all was forgiven. But never in all her daydreams had she pictured it like this.
After a long pause, Mr. Mercer spoke again. “I’m going to visit her tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have stabilized her a little and she’ll be more coherent. Do you want to come with me?”
Emma bit her lip. She had questions she wanted to ask Becky, but nothing she could ask in front of her grandfather. And what if Becky kept calling her Emma? Someone might start trying to figure out whom Becky was referring to. In her deluded state, Becky might say anything—even that Sutton had a twin named Emma. And then what?
Mr. Mercer gave her an understanding look and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to decide right now.” He undid his seat belt. “We’d better go in. Mom’s probably worried.”
Emma squinted in the harsh bright light in the foyer. Down the hall, she saw Laurel perched on a stool at the kitchen island, wearing her favorite terrycloth robe. Mrs. Mercer was standing behind her, pouring tea into two pineapple-shaped mugs. She almost dropped the kettle when she saw them.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “It’s after midnight. Why didn’t you call? I tried you a thousand times.”
Looking abashed, Mr. Mercer pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the missed calls. Emma didn’t have to look at hers to know that there were probably a dozen calls from her mother on the screen. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he mumbled.
Laurel narrowed her eyes at Emma, giving her a long, scrutinizing look. She pointed to something on Emma’s jacket. “What’s that?”
Emma looked down. The hospital visitor badge was pinned to her lapel. She caught her breath. She’d been so tired on the way home that she hadn’t remembered to take it off. She tried to slide it into her pocket, but it was too late.
“You were at the hospital?” Mrs. Mercer demanded.
Mr. Mercer and Emma exchanged glances. He waited a beat too long before speaking. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you, but I was feeling a lot of pain in my knee. I went in to have it checked out and see if I could get some meds from the pharmacy. I’m so sorry we didn’t call, honey. The signal in the hospital is awful, and we lost track of time.”
The clock over the kitchen table ticked noisily. Drake, the family’s Great Dane, rose from his dog bed, shook out his coat, and then lay down again. Mrs. Mercer stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Emma wondered if this was how Mrs. Mercer had spent her evenings when she was raising Becky—up late, making tea she was too nervous to drink, waiting for bad news to come in the door. She felt a flare of guilt for making her grandmother worry.
Finally Mrs. Mercer sighed and turned to Emma. “Well, it was your night to walk Drake, Sutton. It’s too late for that, but the least you can do is to take him out to the yard.”
Emma nodded. “Come on, boy.”
The Great Dane lazily stood once more. Emma slid open the door to the backyard and followed him out into the night.
While he sniffed along the fence, Emma flopped into a wrought-iron chair and stared at the stars. As a little girl, she’d had a habit of naming the stars after
“Yeah,” she muttered, looking out the passenger window. She could just make out the hole Mr. Mercer had dug in the lawn before his accident. He’d been planning to plant something there, but in the dark it looked like a fresh grave.
“I’m so sorry,” Mr. Mercer went on. “It must have been hard to see her like that.”
Emma didn’t say anything. Her body felt bruised and weak. She’d always imagined she might look for her mother someday, track her down with a private investigator or maybe by herself, with her own research skills. Sometimes in her fantasies, she told Becky off for abandoning her. Sometimes she ran to her, threw her arms around her neck, and all was forgiven. But never in all her daydreams had she pictured it like this.
After a long pause, Mr. Mercer spoke again. “I’m going to visit her tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have stabilized her a little and she’ll be more coherent. Do you want to come with me?”
Emma bit her lip. She had questions she wanted to ask Becky, but nothing she could ask in front of her grandfather. And what if Becky kept calling her Emma? Someone might start trying to figure out whom Becky was referring to. In her deluded state, Becky might say anything—even that Sutton had a twin named Emma. And then what?
Mr. Mercer gave her an understanding look and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to decide right now.” He undid his seat belt. “We’d better go in. Mom’s probably worried.”
Emma squinted in the harsh bright light in the foyer. Down the hall, she saw Laurel perched on a stool at the kitchen island, wearing her favorite terrycloth robe. Mrs. Mercer was standing behind her, pouring tea into two pineapple-shaped mugs. She almost dropped the kettle when she saw them.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “It’s after midnight. Why didn’t you call? I tried you a thousand times.”
Looking abashed, Mr. Mercer pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the missed calls. Emma didn’t have to look at hers to know that there were probably a dozen calls from her mother on the screen. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he mumbled.
Laurel narrowed her eyes at Emma, giving her a long, scrutinizing look. She pointed to something on Emma’s jacket. “What’s that?”
Emma looked down. The hospital visitor badge was pinned to her lapel. She caught her breath. She’d been so tired on the way home that she hadn’t remembered to take it off. She tried to slide it into her pocket, but it was too late.
“You were at the hospital?” Mrs. Mercer demanded.
Mr. Mercer and Emma exchanged glances. He waited a beat too long before speaking. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you, but I was feeling a lot of pain in my knee. I went in to have it checked out and see if I could get some meds from the pharmacy. I’m so sorry we didn’t call, honey. The signal in the hospital is awful, and we lost track of time.”
The clock over the kitchen table ticked noisily. Drake, the family’s Great Dane, rose from his dog bed, shook out his coat, and then lay down again. Mrs. Mercer stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Emma wondered if this was how Mrs. Mercer had spent her evenings when she was raising Becky—up late, making tea she was too nervous to drink, waiting for bad news to come in the door. She felt a flare of guilt for making her grandmother worry.
Finally Mrs. Mercer sighed and turned to Emma. “Well, it was your night to walk Drake, Sutton. It’s too late for that, but the least you can do is to take him out to the yard.”
Emma nodded. “Come on, boy.”
The Great Dane lazily stood once more. Emma slid open the door to the backyard and followed him out into the night.
While he sniffed along the fence, Emma flopped into a wrought-iron chair and stared at the stars. As a little girl, she’d had a habit of naming the stars after
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