[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack Read Online Free

an empty bird’s egg and one of your dried roses in there too.
    Your rose bushes are budding, I thought you might like to know. Doug had to uproot one of your bushes, there were black spots all over it and no green limbs. But he’s going to replace it. Mary will even help him pick out a new bush for you. Taking care of the flowers will be her job this spring. That little girl of ours wants to so much to show you that she’s growing up. Part of me wonders if you’ll ever be able to see it, how much she’s grown, or if the last memory you’ll have of her is of a young girl with pig tails in her hair?
    It’s been so long since we last heard from you Jack. Are you getting any of the letters and drawings we’ve sent you? I try not to worry but I can’t help it. Doug reassures me that you are probably deep in the trenches and that they’re holding everything for you. I hope so.
    I lay in bed at night and try to pretend you’re beside me. I place my hand out, palm up, on your side of the bed and imagine that you are holding it while I fall asleep. Some nights I end up cuddling with your pillow and I’ve started to wear one of your nightshirts to bed. I feel closer to you then. I know you’re probably shaking your head at me for being so fanciful.
    I don’t want to complain because I know that whatever I’ve experienced has been nothing compared to what you must be going through. It’s the not knowing that is the hardest part. The “what ifs” that run through my head day after day.
    Doug says I’ve lost weight. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Don’t worry, I still have my love handles, but my dresses are a little looser on me. You’ll be happy to know that he is constantly after me to make sure I take care of myself — for both you and Mary. He pulls out that piece of paper where you wrote down the things you want to say to me. I close my eyes and pretend it’s you telling me to take time for myself, to not work so hard and to remember that you love me.
    Come home soon, my love. I miss hearing your voice call me Dottie-mine. I miss hearing your voice whisper I love you.
    Most importantly, I miss your touch. Your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes when you’re teasing Mary. I miss watching you tend to your roses, the way you unbutton your shirt when you come to bed, the sound of your soft snores while you hold me close.
    I miss you. You.
     
    Your Dottie-mine forever.

 
     
    Jack,
     
    It’s been two months since the letter came telling me you are missing. Two long months of knowing my worst nightmare has come true. Two months of pretending everything is okay to Mary.
    Jack, so help me, you need to come home. I can’t do this much longer. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve tried to be a rock for Mary. But there’s only so much I can do when my own rock is gone. You, Jack, you are my rock. You are the one who holds me up when all I want to do is let go. You. No one else.
    I need you. I’ve tried for two long months to resist saying those words. I’m sorry there have been no letters…there hasn’t been too much to tell.
    Let’s see…Mary’s collection for you has grown. We are now into box number four. I bought her a notebook where she can write her own letters to you. Doug has been helping her with that, so rest assured you’ll be able to read them.
    Your garden is, how shall I put this — stagnant. I try, I really do. But I have a green thumb for vegetables, not for roses. I swear these bushes of yours are emotional, they must know the difference between your gentle touch and my uncaring one. I’m sorry, that was harsh, I know you love these rose bushes, even though I might not understand your fascination with them. So many things about you continue to surprise me — these roses being one of them.
    Jack, what is it like where you are? Is it hot and humid? Cold and bitter? Are you well or barely surviving? What are you doing? Where are you? I know you’re not dead. I’d be dead as well