Emma's Secret: Prequel to an Angel for Amanda

By Rita Williams

"This well-told and inspirational romance novel moves at a quick pace and grabs the reader right from the first paragraph. We see the story from Amanda's perspective, and so we have a front row seat, getting into her head-we feel her fear, sadness, and tension as she tries to survive the constant stress of her relationship." - Writers' D

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887385648

Rita Williams

Rita Williams lives in Los Angeles. She has been an actor, musician, professor, recovery counselor, and radio announcer as well as a writer. Her previous work has appeared in the LA Weekly and O, the Oprah Magazine. This is her first book.

Book preview

979-8-88738-563-1_Cover.jpg

Prequel to

An Angel for Amanda

written by

Rita Williams

Emma’s Secret

Trilogy Christian Publishers A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2023 by Rita Williams

All scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.TM Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.TM

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA.

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, CA 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

Cover design by: Kelly Stewart

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN: 979-8-88738-563-1

E-ISBN: 979-8-88738-564-8

DEDICATION

I dedicate Emma’s Secret to my spiritual mother,

Kay Schaefer, her wonderful husband, John, and her baby boy, Kelly. He had cancer and went to be with the Lord in 1976 when he was eleven years old.

She held me close, let me cry on her shoulder, and took me to church when my husband of twenty-nine years went to heaven.

She is my Val.

Thank you, Kay.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Jesus, I will always acknowledge you in everything I do. Thank you for healing my family.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

Colossians 3:12–13

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to book three of the series of An Angel for Amanda, Emma’s Secret Part One, and Part Two. Emma’s Secret Part Three is coming soon.

Emma’s Secret should have been book one, but I didn’t know I was going to write a series, and I didn’t know Emma’s Secret was going to be my story. But I write fiction, and since it is a series, I have to write this book to be in sync with An Angel for Amanda.

I read The Penny, a novel written by Joyce Meyer about God pursuing her. It is a beautifully written fictional story of her childhood trauma. I thought of her as I was writing my novel. I now understand how writing such an emotional traumatic story would be easier as a fictional story because you are better able to separate yourself from the events.

This novel depicts the lives of me and my sister Elizabeth, who was brave enough to tell. Thank you, Lizzy. To all my sisters in Christ who are survivors of childhood trauma, thank you for your inspiration.

I chose someone else’s mom to be Emma’s mother. I knew a few. My mom has been a Christian for thirty years. Her past includes mistakes, but we are forgiven, and she put our offender in jail.

Uncle Joey is a combination of all the creeps I grew up knowing. I didn’t reveal the one because there are children involved, and they didn’t do anything to deserve to be hurt.

I have seven brothers and sisters. I narrowed it down to three so that I wouldn’t confuse the reader. There is Emma, who is me. Sharon, who is my sister Elizabeth. She left home at sixteen when she found out she was pregnant. Gloria is, well, I have two baby sisters, Sharon and Sunny. We all are Christians and live our lives to serve Christ. My two brothers, David and Edward, are wonderful men of God. Two other brothers, Paul and James, are in heaven waiting for us.

Most of the high school events are true. I committed to writing the PG13 version, so many of the people and conversations are changed. I loved dodgeball. I wish I played as well as Emma, but I was good.

One more time, keep in mind this is my true story developed into a fictional novel. Names and events have been changed.

Part 1

Chapter 1

How does every single day of my sad teen years start out with hating my reflection in the bathroom mirror? My teeth are crooked, especially the right incisor tooth behind my two front teeth, which are too small and jagged. My friend, Theresa, is always whining about everyone teasing her about her braces. Are you kidding me? Only rich people get braces. The ones teasing you will be trying to figure out how to get them at thirty.

My frizzy brown hair, I actually think they call it dirty blonde, is not helped by using my mom’s bristle brush, the only one we own. My tired eyes are guaranteed to me by my not-so-quiet mom coming home after her graveyard shift at The Hideaway bar downtown. She always promises to be more mindful of her kids trying to get some sleep, but after a couple of shots at closing time, it no longer matters to her or my Uncle Joey, who happens to come home with her almost every night.

And right there, ugh, right below my chin, a brand new zit just in time for my eighteenth birthday next week. Perfect, it won’t only be that time of the year, but it will also be that time of the month.

Oh, well, I can waste more time hating myself or wake up my sister. Time to get ready for school. Yeah, that God-awful place where the cool guys laugh at you and the prissy girls…well, they whisper or bark when you pass by. Little do they know, I could whip their little size three butts and make them go crying to their mamas. I’ve learned to fight plenty, not in school but in the darkness of my own room.

Dragging myself down the hall of our three-bedroom, low-income apartment is the second most awful thing I have to do every morning. The worn brown and tan rug has spots so thin you can almost see through them. The yellow-stained walls need paint, but it would be useless since everyone who comes over smokes. After every coughing fit, my mom promises to stop. That lasts for about a half hour. I used to beg her to please stop when the doctor told her the baby is sick all the time because she smokes in the house. She finally promised to make everyone else smoke outside. I play this game of Maybe she’ll get tired of hearing me nag and stop, but she won by playing Maybe she’ll get tired of nagging and stop.

Sharon, Sharon. I lean over her bed and quietly whisper for her to wake up. Get up. Don’t wake up Gloria. Sharon, my fifteen-year-old sister, is sleeping with my baby sister again. She’s two, and she’s taught her that when Mom gets home and wakes her up, she can go to bed with her big sister. My mom really has a fit when she tries to get her from Sharon, but Gloria won’t go to her. Sharon just kisses her, holds her tight, takes her to bed with her. Mom cusses and heads to the kitchen, finds the dinner leftovers, and fixes her and Uncle Joey a plate.

Uncle Joey, there’s a winner for you. He’s found about fifteen or twenty jobs since I’ve known him. They all last for a couple of weeks, and then someone always does him wrong, and he quits. It’s easier to live off of Mom than to actually work for a living. Since we live in Sacramento, it’s also easier for him to apply for welfare than to work, so he’s got his food stamp card and will soon qualify for the rest of his benefits. That will give him plenty of money to invest in his new venture…selling drugs.

Hurry, Sharon. I throw cereal and milk on the table. We can’t miss the bus. I rush to prepare Gloria a warm bottle so it’s ready when she wakes up, and I gulp down a glass of milk.

If you miss the bus, I can take you to school. Here comes the third most awful thing I face every morning, Uncle Joey rounds the corner wearing only his slippers and boxers. His long overdue haircut tangles over his face. He grabs a beer out of the fridge and holds it on his head. Oh man, I’m just getting too old for this. He cracks the beer and swigs a couple of drinks as it drips down his ungroomed goatee.

We’re on time. I grab Sharon’s bowl and toss it in the sink.

Emma, I wasn’t done. She holds her spoon up to her mouth.

Yes, you were. I pull the spoon from her hand and grab her shoulder. "Go brush your teeth and get your shoes. Her pouting lips try to get some compassion, but I push her towards the hall, grab the leftover dishes from last night, rinse them, and toss them into the dishwasher.

Listen, don’t be so mean to your sister. Uncle Joey steps a little closer blocking me between him and the sink.

I move to the right and wipe the counter, trying to escape his cigarette and beer breath.

So, now you’re mean to me? he growls as he moves with me and twirls my hair between his fingers. You kids should really be in foster care. I freeze at his same old speech he gives every time he doesn’t get his way. Just one call, little Gloria could finally have a nice family. Sharon, she’s older. Who knows what could happen to her? And you, you’re too mean for any family to want you.

Uncle Joey, please, I’m going to miss the bus. The sponge flies towards the sink, and I scoot around him.

He grabs my arm. Give me a kiss and say you’re sorry first.

It’s my only way out.

Chapter 2

Carol, I called you! I yell as I exit the school bus. Carol, my best friend, a very pretty girl with long brown hair and a perfect figure. She keeps to herself mostly. She hates all of the attention because of her bra size. She was suspended last month for smashing a guy in his face with her lunch tray. Not only once but at least three times. He reached around her and grabbed her chest. She was so fast nobody knew what happened. Nobody but the four of her friends. We saw it coming. We clapped, hooped, hollered, and high-fived all around. Blood everywhere. Finally, Greg got what he deserved. The best day ever.

I know, but my mom wouldn’t get off the phone last night. She grabs her backpack and drags it down the school hallway.

Did they talk to the Principal yet?

Next week, finally. She boosts the backpack over her shoulder. My Dad told him he could talk to him, or he could talk to his lawyer.

You go, girl. My smile takes over my whole face. These pigs have to be held accountable. Her win makes me feel a little more empowered.

Mr. Navarro, my favorite teacher, yells for us to hurry before the tardy bell rings. He’s spinning and dancing by the doorway, waving his arms right when the bell rings. Five, four, three. He counts as the door closes.

Carol, Carl, and I fly in before he shuts the door.

Made it. He’s Asian, and he talks to us in several different slangs. Sometimes he’s Hispanic, sometimes, he’s Black, but he’s very funny when he uses Asian slang. He continues to dance his version of hip-hop as students take their seats. So we are getting close to the end of the semester. So far, we have a few students very deserving of getting an F. No slang today.

He didn’t look at me, but I knew he was talking about me. Really, how am I supposed to do homework? When I get home, I go next door and pick up Gloria, I cook, I clean, and I give the baby a bath while my mom is at work. I’m exhausted by the time evening comes around. The last thing I want to do is homework. A shower, a phone call, and a quick bite to eat is all I get to do for myself, and I’m not giving that up.

He goes around the room and passes out a piece of gum to everyone.

Okay, everybody got a piece of gum. He opens his and tosses it in his mouth. We watch as he smooths out the foil wrapper and holds it up. This little piece of paper is your cheat sheet. He turns it around so we can see the inside white part. Whatever you can fit on here, you can use for your one hundred question final.

My saving grace. I know shorthand. I have it second period.

* *

Finally, six hours are over. Now time to get Gloria, get dinner, clean, and study for my final. I have to pass my Social Studies final, or I won’t be able to graduate. Sharon better not mess around. We need to get home and get home fast.

The bus stop has no sign of Sharon. I’ll kill her if we miss the bus! I shout to everyone who doesn’t care. I watch my bus pull up and get into the line of students boarding. I don’t care. I’m getting on the bus. I step onto the first step and then the second. I take one last look behind me, and no Sharon. Ughhhh! I turn around and exit the bus.

Quickly moving down one hall and then another, I can’t find her anywhere. On my way to the office, I see her sitting in the lobby. My blood boiling, I open the office door. Sharon, what are you doing?

Her teary eyes look up at me. Tony took my flute.

What?

I was walking to the bus, and he grabbed my flute and ran. She sniffles and wipes her nose with her sleeve. I chased him, but I couldn’t catch him.

Come on. I grab her sleeve and slam the door. If I find him, he’ll eat that flute. Walking around the school, up and down the hallway, and through the football field was useless. No Tony.

I told him I was going to go to the office and tell the Principal.

What did he say?

He told me to suck his you know what. The tears really started flowing.

I ball up my fist and show her. Yeah, well, guess what he’s going to suck?

Breathing heavily, scowling, and gritting my teeth wasn’t helping me find him. It was time to walk the six miles home. As we pass the school, Uncle Joey screeches his tires and pulls up beside us.

Hey, your mom is worried. He rolls down the window. She said Val called her and said you didn’t pick up Gloria.

Sharon and I jump in the car and explain what happened. He’s riding a red bike, Sharon explains.

Uncle Joey puffs hard on his cigarette, runs his fingers through his hair, and steps on the gas. Put your seatbelt on. His screeching tires speed through the streets as he bobs his head to the left and the right. Up ahead, he sees a red bike outside of The Little Green Store. Is that it?

Sharon shrugs her shoulders right as Tony exits the store with the long black case and a brown bag. There he is, she points.

Without a warning, Uncle Joey spins the car around, sprays gravel all over the side of the store, and pulls up on the sidewalk blocking Tony from moving.

Tony’s bug eyes pop, and mouth falls open. Hey, you Tony? Uncle Joey slams the car door, flips his cigarette, and looks both ways to see if anybody’s watching. Tony puts his foot on the peddle and tries to go around Uncle Joey, but he’s not fast enough. Uncle Joey pulls the bike handles, and the front tire fits right between his legs. He grabs Tony by the back of his neck and whispers in his ear. We roll down the windows and watch as Tony whimpers when Uncle Joey’s hand moves to the middle of his chest and twists his shirt. Now go say sorry.

Tony jumps off his bike and heads to the car. He looks back at Uncle Joey. Go on. Uncle Joey throws down his bike.

Here you go. His blinking eyes water even more as he hands over the flute. I didn’t mean it.

Say sorry, Uncle Joey growls.

I’m sorry, his muffled voice obeys.

Uncle Joey grits his teeth. What’s in the bag?

A coke and candy bar, he stutters.

Gimme that. He snatches it from his hands. Now get out of here.

Tony’s feet try to set his pedals to hop on, but he keeps missing them. He moves to the side and runs with his bike as fast as he can. Uncle Joey jumps in the car, bites off the cap of the coke bottle, and tears open the candy bar. Want a bite? He hands it to me.

Yeah. I smile as I grab the candy bar, and he hands the coke over the back seat to Sharon.

He won’t be bothering you no more. He bites the candy bar in my hand and reaches for his coke.

Wha’d you say? Sharon smiles as she returns his coke.

I told him if he ever bothers you again, they will never find his body. He slaps a high five over my way. And if he tells his dad, they’ll never find his dad’s body. Haaah! He looks in his rearview mirror and both side mirrors as he speeds away.

* *

Sharon, Sharon! Just like clockwork, Mom’s screaming at three am. I hear her slam her fist on Sharon’s bedroom door and Gloria crying.

I drag myself down the hallway, Mommmm, why, Mom?

You go back to bed. She points to my room.

What? Sharon shows up with Gloria on her hip.

What did I tell you about missing that bus? She grabs Gloria and sets her on the floor.

Didn’t Uncle Joey tell you what happened? I try to defend Sharon while rescuing a screaming baby.

I did. Uncle Joey floats around the corner.

I don’t care. Mom grabs Sharon by her hair. You could have come home, and I would have called the school tomorrow.

Mom. I rush to Sharon’s side. How is she supposed to know that?

She shakes Sharon’s head by her hair. Mommmm! she cries out.

Come on, Angie. Uncle Joey raises his voice. Let them go to bed.

Mom slaps Sharon in the face while holding on to her hair. If you miss that bus again, I’ll get the belt and really show you. She throws her to the floor.

The next time she misses the bus, you get on it. She turns her drunken rath to me. Do you hear me?

I think the whole neighborhood can hear you, Mom. As soon as it came out of my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. She reaches out and grabs my hair as Sharon rushes to grab Gloria from my arms.

We wrestle as both of her hands are in my hair. You got something to say now? Bouncing off the wall, side to side, we reach my bedroom.

Noooo! Keeping both of my hands on hers while she’s shaking me like a ragdoll dragging me into my room, causing me to trip backward.

Uncle Joey! Sharon screams as my bedroom door slams.

It took a minute, but Uncle Joey steps in and grabs my mom from behind. Let go, Angie. He pulls her off of me as I try to open her hands from my hair. Let her go. Mom kicks me as I fall, but she lets go. She calls me her favorite pet names as Uncle Joey drags her out.

* *

As I lie there hating my life, I hear the squeaking of my bedroom door. Are you okay? I pull my covers up over my head and close my eyes, pretending I’m asleep.

Uncle Joey slips in close to me. I’m just checking to see if she hurt you?

I wish he let her beat me.

Chapter 3

Another sleepless night and another long day at school is really taking its toll. Mr. Navarro gave us another warning for the final next Friday. I’m going to study this weekend. I put my gum wrapper in a safe place and know just how I’m going to use my shorthand to record all one hundred answers.

Tony is in the hallway by my locker. I slam my door to get his attention. I lower my brows and glare at his frightened eyes. He quickly shuffles around the lockers making up lies to his friends.

Carol holding her books close to her chest, catches up to me. I heard we have to play dodgeball for PE.

My favorite. I remove my earrings and pull my hair in a tight ponytail.

Walking into the gym, I eye the small red rubber balls in the center of the floor. My heart beats faster and faster as I pass each ball. I can grab at least three balls before anyone touches me. All my anger, all my energy, and all my power travel down my arm to my hand, and like electricity, I throw that ball with vengeance and accuracy. Those prissy girls who smirk and bark at us as we walk by are finally going to get theirs.

The teacher counts each student and creates two teams. My excitement increases as the little girly girls try to figure out a way to be on the same team opposite mine. We line up against the walls scoping out our targets. They whisper to each other as they watch me bounce on my tippy