Fiercely Emma: Cake Series Book Three by J. Bengtsson

Author:J. Bengtsson [Bengtsson, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-10T18:30:00+00:00

13

Emma, 2004: Remember Me

The phone call came one day shy of five weeks. I was in the kitchen with Quinn and Grace when it happened. A few minutes before the ringing began, Mom had entered with Kyle. Although nowhere near the woman she was before the kidnapping, Mom was at least making an effort to show some emotion toward the rest of her children.

“Mommy!” Grace cried out, excitedly jumping from her chair and throwing herself onto our mother’s wilted body. My sister had been struggling for weeks now with the lack of attention. I did my best to cuddle and soothe her when the situation demanded, which honestly felt like a lot for a kid her age. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly the snuggly type to begin with, and I found myself pushing her away when she got too needy. Still, I wanted this so badly for Grace. All she craved was a little loving. My stomach tightened as the scene played out in front of me, and I silently prayed my mother would show her even the slightest bit of interest. To her credit, she bent down and hugged her youngest child.

“Oh, Mommy, Mommy, I missed you,” Grace said, cooing as she burrowed herself in deeper. Tears immediately filled my mother’s eyes. At least she seemed to understand her neglectful behavior was horribly impacting the lives of her other children. Grace lifted her arms, begging to be held, but that was where Mom drew the line.

“No,” she whispered. “Mommy doesn’t have the strength to pick you up right now. Go sit back down.”

I watched her pat Grace’s head and then turn away. Confusion and hurt skipped across my sister’s face, freezing my heart. I grabbed her hand and led her back to the table. By the time Grace climbed into her chair, tears were rolling down her face. I worried about my sister. How could she ever mature into a strong, secure woman without the support of the one person she needed most?

Quinn caught my eye and rolled his. I smiled sympathetically in his direction, and he groaned before dramatically burying his head in his outstretched arm. Six years old and he was quickly becoming as jaded as the rest of us. Mom glanced in his direction, studied him a moment, and visibly winced. I wondered if Quinn registered the visceral reaction his resemblance to Jake was inciting in the rest of us. Did he read it as something it wasn’t?

After Mom’s heartless declaration of Jake’s unconfirmed death, Quinn had changed, and although I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, the difference in him troubled me. It was as if he’d grown up overnight, and I feared his quick upbringing wasn’t going to serve him well in the future. Still, his newfound maturity certainly made things easier on me. Quinn was becoming more self-sufficient every day and seemed to understand that the new house rules did not favor him. He no longer sought attention, having perhaps learned that there was none to be had.

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