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"Past"
12 Years Ago
Raindrops pounded on Susan's car, coating her windows with a thickening curtain. The windshield wipers swept back and forth, trying their hardest to see her home.
She sighed and swore underneath her breath. A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. Her day was hard enough already. The weather was only making it worse.
Why couldn't this storm have come a little sooner, before she'd driven past the old carnival? She'd winced upon seeing all the many sights there. Happy mothers. Joyful children. It reminded her of something she didn't like thinking of: life would never be the same for her and her husband. When they'd lost their daughter, they'd lost everything.
The tears grew thicker on Susan's face. She wasn't sure she'd ever be happy again.
Thunder roared. The rain hit harder. She wiped her cheeks and accelerated.
Then a tiny movement caught a bit of her eye. Through the rainy window, on the foggy street, someone was laying on the side of the road.
Her foot dropped heavily across the break. Her face became a portrait of shock and awe. She opened the door and ran onto the pavement, where a screaming little girl was cuddled all by herself. She appeared to be no more than three years old.
Susan scooped the child up while looking her over. The rain had soaked through her jacket and pants. After glancing around, and finding no one else near, she turned and rushed the girl into her car.
Dave sat quietly before the TV, showing little interest in a game on-screen. Susan was later than usual today. The storm appeared to be getting worse. He glanced at the window as a thunderbolt rang, then flattened his lips and brushed his dark hair back.
Upon hearing the door open, and then slam shut, he sighed in relief and called out toward his wife. "You okay?"
The sound of young weeping flowed into Dave's ear.
He frowned in confusion, and rose from his seat.
Susan stepped forth with a panicked look, her trench coat dripping as she cuddled the child.
"Honey?" Dave said, pausing in place. "Who's this?"
"I don't know," she replied, glancing between them.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't know. I found her laying on the street, near that old carvival. She was about to freeze, so I brought her with me." Susan eyed the girl nervously. Had the kid wandered off, or been abandoned? "Grab a blanket," she whispered to Dave.
Dave found one and brought it back, watching as Susan took the girl's coat off.
The child kept sobbing as her clothes were removed.
"It's okay, sweetie," Susan murmured, pulling the wet shirt from the girl's damp chest.
Then she saw it — and shuddered a bit.
Dave was approaching, and saw it too. He and his wife exchanged nervous looks.
A long, pink scar stretched across the girl's back. It had certainly been acquired before today.
Susan managed to steady herself, then rubbed her hand along the child's wound. After she'd removed all the other wet clothes, she wrapped the kid up within the soothing blanket, then held her close and tried calming her down.
Dave took a seat right next to his wife. They eyed one another with somber stares, before shifting their gazes back down to the kid.
Once the girl had fallen asleep, Susan glanced over at the distant window. A question repeated itself in her mind: Who could put this child through what she'd endured?
One week later, Susan watched from her porch as the girl skipped around, playing hopscotch on the walk in their yard.
The child began singing as she bounced through the path. "Step on a crack...fix your mother's back."
Susan smiled warmly at the altered verse. It was one of many changes that the kid had made up. She appeared to know the proper way to sing these tunes, but she still wrote her own versions anyway. The girl was creative. Susan liked that about her.
Dave came out and sat down beside Susan. He gazed at the many chalk markings on the ground. Amidst the scribbled flowers and smiley faces, he saw houses, animals, clouds, and trees. Vehicles, grass, mailboxes, and keys. "She drew all that by herself?" he wondered.
Susan nodded, staring forward. "She seems to be drawing what she's seen today."
Dave chuckled as he sensed a pattern. "Girl's got a lot of creative passion," he noted.
Susan reached over and took his hand. "She's wonderful, Dave. I keep finding so many things that I adore about her."
Dave eyed the child with a forlorn stare. He wasn't quite sure just when it had happened, but he appeared to be attached to this little girl too. Hour after hour, day after day, he found himself smiling as he bonded with her. The games of patty cake, the chats on the couch, the little laughs they shared as they teased one another.
He felt a certain joy that he didn't want to lose — which was why his heart sank as he turned to Susan. "It's time we talked about what we're going to do...I mean it's time we really talked about it."
Susan closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. She watched the girl scribbling another little scene, looking so cute, so calm and sweet.
A pang hit her chest, and a sad frown followed. "If we go to the police, they'll send her away. They'll take her back to that person who gave her the scar, who left her out in the rain."
"Maybe that was an accident. Maybe the scar was as well."
She looked at her lap. "But what if they weren't?"
Dave quieted, watching the child again.
"Look at her, Dave." A flutter of warmth ran through Susan's heart. "Can you imagine letting anyone hurt this girl? Can you picture her lost in a storm again?"
Dave scowled, and looked away. Both of those thoughts made him sick to his stomach.
He studied the trees with an absent gaze, quietly holding a fist to his mouth.
After a long bout of silence had finally passed, Dave turned to the child, and calmly spoke up. "Do you really think we can do this? Do you think we can commit to her, I mean?"
Susan wrapped both of her hands around his.
Dave stared forward, watching the girl crawl about. It was time to bring another important issue to the table. "We have to call her something," he calmly noted.
Susan took a deep breath, summoning all of her strength. "Let's call her Emma."
He turned to her, looking deeply surprised. It was the very name of the daughter they'd lost. No one besides the two of them knew that she'd died.
"For her protection," Susan noted. She leaned forth, moving closer now. "I know that we can't bring our daughter back. That's not what I'm trying to do. I want to love this girl for who she is." Susan looked at her, feeling a tear well up. "I already do."
Susan and Dave entered a noisy classroom. The kiddie talk was louder than usual today.
Emma glanced over as they made their entrance, then ran straight toward them with a paper in hand. "Daddy! Mommy! Look what I did!" Earlier on, she'd received an assignment with a number of drawings — a key and a door, a ball and a hoop, and various other images as well. Emma had drawn lines between these scattered little objects, identifying which of them had a connection.
A gold star was pasted at the top of her paper. This was the first time that Emma had gotten 100%.
Susan's face lit up, and she opened her arms. She and Emma shared their signature squeal. They laughed while warmly hugging each other, Susan bending down and stroking Emma's soft locks.
Dave watched both of them with unabashed love. He gave Emma a high-five once the hug had ended.
The fun park was bustling with a number of patrons. Sunshine and chatter swept over the scene.
Emma had now reached the age of seven, and was growing fascinated with automobiles. For the moment, however, the only vehicle she could use was an old bumper car, which she expertly whipped all around a rink.
Dave drove up and bumped into Emma. She let out a giggle, then bumped him back. Seconds later, Emma saw Susan's car driving straight at her. She moved aside, letting her bump into Dave.
The parents laughed, eyeing each other with glee, then both gazed warmly at the girl nearby.
Several years had come and gone, and Emma had now reached the age of 15.
Emma loved her mother. She truly did. But Susan had been annoyingly protective lately. She acted like her daughter was made of glass. Emma hardly went anywhere on her own, and rarely had the fun that her friends were having. It was putting a damper on her childhood, and causing a rift between Emma and Susan.
As the two pulled into their home driveway, Emma took a deep breath, then turned to her mom. "A girl in my class is having a party and I was wondering if maybe..." She paused upon sensing a tension in Susan. Emma quieted, and turned her head. "So that's a 'no.' "
Susan paused herself, then spoke pleasantly. "No, it...it's a 'maybe.' "
"Which really means no."
"No, it means maybe."
Emma turned to her with a look of surprise.
"I don't want us to fight anymore."
After a moment, the younger woman found her voice. "Really?" she said, caught completely off guard.
Susan smiled.
"So, I can go? Oh my God, thank you so much!"
"Yes, but I will drive you there and I will pick you up right afterwards."
Emma nodded in glee. "Deal! Thanks, Mom."
Moments later, they both left the car, holding each other happily as they ran inside.
Unbeknownst to either, far across the street, a woman with a camera was taking their picture.
Emma sat upon the stand in a quiet courtroom. She was sporting a pretty dress, and a nervous frown.
She'd recently received the biggest shock of her life: her parents were not her biological folks. Instead, she'd been born to a woman named Karen, who'd had a little too much to drink one day, and had let Emma wander off on her own. Back when Emma had learned the truth, she'd had blurry memories of a merry-go-round, seeing things the way she'd wanted to at the time. She couldn't recall other details of the day's events.
Emma was presently a ward of the state, which was threatening to put Dave and Susan in jail. A shiver ran through her when she thought of that.
She'd been living with Dave's sister, who was here today, alongside their other relatives as well — her cousins, her uncles, and her grandparents too — the only family Emma had ever known. Everyone present looked deeply worried. They were divided over what Dave and Susan had done, but they didn't like the thought of losing them, and they certainly didn't want to lose Emma either.
Karen was sitting on one side of the room, next to Emma's birth father and a prosecutor. Susan and Dave sat across the floor, alongside the lawyer who was there to defend them.
Emma stroked her temple, taking everything in. The truth had stunned her like nothing else could. She'd been deeply misled by the people she'd trusted, the people she was closest to in life.
In addition to the shock, she felt anger as well — at her parents, for keeping this secret so long; at Karen, for bringing the secret to light; at everyone, for the chaos that her life was in now.
Above all, Emma felt conflicted. Karen was her mother. Emma wanted to know her. And though Susan and Dave had caused her pain, she couldn't deny what was in her heart: they were still her parents — and she still loved them.
Author's Note: When I watched Taken Back: Finding Haley, I found myself sympathizing with the McQueens, and other viewers did as well. What I found most touching about the film was their perseverance and their commitment to Emma, along with how much Emma loved them too. Actually, it seemed that the film intended it this way at times.
Along with other fans, I felt that the story of how this family came together should have been a little different. As a result, I ended up creating this tale, and got my partners to contribute some artwork. To my surprise, it was a lot of fun to explore and expand the Taken Back world.
Thanks for sharing any thoughts in reviews. I'd be happy to know what you think.
Visit bluelagoonbash. wordpress. com for Taken Back artwork.
