by Karina Sharp
“In the wake of this tragedy, I am thankful for the gifts that have come out of it. A new life has been created, and it is one that will never be taken for granted, nor will it ever be deprived of love. A new family has been created, and it is one that has eternally unbreakable bonds. A new community has been created, and it is one that will think twice before it turns a blind eye to problems another may have, nor will the community again be so blinded by the flashy facade of money, fame, and reputation.
“Jenny was so much more than all of the terrible things that consumed her. Now, we have the opportunity to remember her for all of the positive ways in which she touched our lives and look beyond her suffering to see her for the vibrant, beautiful human being that she was. I know she would want that.
“I encourage you all to look at those around you, and vow to appreciate one another in the same way. Please reach out to those you love, even if you think they’re doing just fine. Love everything you have with everything you have.
“Thank you, Jenny, for blessing a great number of people in both life and death. We all love you, and we will always carry you with us in our hearts. I once said this to Jenny when we discussed the singer of the song that’s about to play, and it’s truer now than ever. Jenny, even though the light of your physical life has been snuffed out, your soul shines on forever, and brighter than before.”
Jenny’s love of music inspired me to have some songs played at her memorial. “Fields of Gold” by Eva Cassidy makes me bawl so hard, I have to bury my face into Jack’s suit jacket to help muffle my cries.
Chapter 31
Journey
“Your words were very moving today,” Jack tells me as he enters the newly ordained family room.
“Thank you. Is she asleep?”
“For now.” Jack sits next to me and nuzzles his nose into my neck. “You’re so strong. You’re an inspiration yourself, you know? I love you more every single day.”
“I love you too.” I lay my head on his. “Do you think things will ever go back to normal?”
“What is normal?" Jack asks, lifting his head with wide eyes. “What sort of normalcy are you trying to get back to?”
I show him a half-hearted smile. “Just not feeling like I might burst into tears every waking moment. Or feeling like it’s not inappropriate to laugh again.”
Jack studies my face for a moment before speaking. “You only feel like it’s not okay to laugh because you’re afraid that if you’re laughing or thinking about something else, then you’re forgetting. You’ll never forget, and it’s good for you to think about other things.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. “Eventually, you will integrate these events into your everyday life, and balance the memories with the present. You will never forget, nor should you; however, you should keep moving forward.”
A smile of relief spreads across my face, and I lean into his hand, willing his touch to deepen. “How did you get so wise?”
“I’m not just wise. I have lots of things to offer. I’m healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
“Fine, how did you get so healthy, wealthy, and wise?”
“I got wealthy from working hard and a family lineage that worked equally as hard. I am wise from experience. And I’m healthy because I have a great doctor- a pretty cute one at that. You should meet her sometime.”
Tonight is only our second night having Halia home with us. Since she was premature, she spent a several weeks in the hospital, but it was mostly to allow her to grow and develop more in a sterile environment where medical staff could monitor her in case something happened. Most preemies are put on a ventilator as a precaution, but as long as their lungs are strong, and they prove that they can breathe on their own, they are taken off. Halia was taken off pretty quickly for a baby born so early. She’s a strong girl. I took a few days off from my practice to both mourn and spend some time with my new daughter. Jack stayed at the hospital with Halia every second he was allowed. She’s already the apple of his eye and his princess. Because he works from home, he is officially a stay-at-home dad, which is a role he is more than happy to take on. He is incredibly adorable when he’s caring for Halia.
The discussion of whether or not adopting Halia was the right thing to do never took place. It didn’t need to. She’s our daughter, and the only questions we had were what room would be hers and whether or not we would have enough time to have it decorated and prepared for her arrival. The entire community has been beyond supportive. They showered us with furniture, clothing, and other baby items, as well as surprised us by painting and decorating Halia’s nursery. Matt Steele made Halia’s crib by hand from trees that grew on his property. Angela Barnes hand-painted a gorgeous mural in the nursery. The local Bridge Club made Halia’s bedding, including an intricate quilt. The list of special, personally crafted gifts goes on. I don’t know how or if I can ever repay all of them for their kindness, but I fully intend to spend my entire life trying.
Our house is already littered with baby blankets, burp rags, and spare diapers, while bottles and their attachments sit beside the sink, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Jack, Halia, and I formed a family with ease, and they make me whole. My parents have already traveled into town a few times to meet our daughter while she was in the hospital. They took to their new roles as grandparents with pleasure. We plan to take Halia to see Jack’s parents very soon. They will fall for her as quickly as everyone else has.
Before adjourning to our room for the night, or at least a few hours, we stand by Halia’s crib, looking over the rail at her peaceful, sleeping face. Jack places his arm around my waist, and I lean into him.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” he asks me as he smiles down at our baby girl.
“She is. All of this is- you, her, our being a family.”
“I can’t think of anything better than this.” Jack looks at me with that same smile of admiration that I fell for so long ago, and I mirror his.
“Me either. You're still my artichoke, you know."
"And you're my wildflower. My lovely, precious, and spunky wildflower. Which reminds me, I have a gift for you.”
Our longing look lingers over our daughter for a moment longer before we check the baby monitor and exit her room. Jack and I walk to our bedroom.
“You were saying?” I ask, not knowing what kind of gift to expect.
Jack smiles his brilliant, tender smile and leaves to retrieve something from the bathroom. When he returns, he places an envelope in my hands that has three small, blue forget-me-nots attached to it with twine.
With joy coursing through my veins and grinning wildly, I open the envelope to read a handwritten message from Jack.
Forget me not, for I am no poet
Forget me not, for I’m going with it (Anyway)
Forget me not, for your lips I wish to kiss
Forget me not, for your spirit I do miss
Forget me not, for my heart you must spare
Forget me not, for my soul I will bare
Forget me not, for you my heart sings
Forget me not, for you devotion I bring
Forget me not, for it’s you that I covet
Forget me not, for your spirit I shan’t forget
Forget me not, for you I am unworthy of
Forget me not, for it’s you that I love
Forget me not, for my soul I shall give
Forget me not, for it’s you that I live.
Happy 9th anniversary. May our lives together be brighter than your hair in the sunlight, wilder than spring break, lovelier than your beauty, happier than Halia when she makes spit bubbles, and more brilliant than my poetry.
You are my life, my love, my daughter’s mother, and my wildflower. You are my kind of wonderful.
All of my love,
Your Artichoke
aka Just Jack
aka Jack
THE END
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Jack
&n
bsp; Five years have passed since the fateful day that changed the lives of our community and my family forever. Since Jenny’s passing, Journey and I have done everything in our power to keep Jenny’s memory alive. Not only for our daughter Halia, but also for the community to continue to understand the importance of being there for one another and remain a united front.
We turned Journey’s cottage into a home for those who have been victims of abuse or incest, so that they have a place to get therapy or seek support. We want them to know that they are not alone. The response was so overwhelming that we had to add onto the original house and provide more support staff. Jenny’s Place is now the region’s leading non-profit organization serving victims from all across the country who have afflicted by such trauma. After serving as an officer in the military, Marshall moved back to town to run the business, officially becoming my successor as President and CEO. I now only sit on the Board. Lexie also moved to Kleinert to oversee the therapy and mental health end of things as she earned her doctorate in psychology.
Journey is beyond thrilled to have her best friend back in her life, and the two of them together, full time, can be a lot to handle. Fortunately, I now have Marshall to empathize with me. He and Lexie became reacquainted, with a little nudging from Journey, and have since gotten married and have a child together. Journey is over the moon about the whole thing and is trying to play wedding planner. Truth be told, I always thought the two of them complimented each other well, but Marshall was too shy to approach Lexie in that way, Lexie was too into everyone but Marshall, and I am not so keen on playing matchmaker.
Journey and I married here at the house a few months after Jenny’s memorial, in June of that year. We didn’t plan for it to be a huge affair, but neither our parents nor the community would allow for that. Although most people wanted to gift us things like flowers and food, I insisted that they not. I asked instead for them to either volunteer or donate something to Jenny’s Place.
Surrounded by our family and friends, including our old friends Lexie, Emily, Anna, Marshall, and Hal, and with a candle lit for Jenny, we pledged our love and devotion to one another in an official and legal way. I had never seen Journey look more radiant than she did that day in a creamy, off-white and simple gown that provided a backdrop to the fire in her hair and the bright blue bouquet of forget-me-nots in her hands. We shared our first kiss as husband and wife in the same place, by the pool, where we were reunited only two years prior.
A tent was placed in the well-manicured gardens of the estate that overflowed with flowers, twinkling lights, and chandeliers. On the dance floor that was set up in the tent, we shared our first dance as a married couple. We danced to “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and the Heart, which perfectly describes the lengths I will go to be with Journey and protect my family. We fell in love with the song after Jenny introduced us to the band’s music, and we will always have the memories of our short, but meaningful time with her.
For our honeymoon, we returned to our roots, visiting the place where our story began, Cabo San Lucas. It had been a decade since I last visited, but the emotions returning there stirred were as strong as ever. Although we did stay in my condo and we also visited The Green Monkey, instead of trying to recreate and relive memories, we made many new ones, and now we have tangible ways to remember them by way of photos. The last time we set foot on our favorite beach, I was essentially a stranger to Journey. This time, I loved knowing that there’s no one on this Earth who knows me better than the fiery, feisty, intelligent, and always sexy Doctor Journey Croft.
A little over two years after Halia was born, Journey gave birth to our second daughter, Alissia. Alissia is a Greek name that represents “strong” or “defender.” Unlike Halia with her straight, golden tresses, blue eyes, and light complexion, Alissia has brown hair that curls into tiny ringlets around her face, light green eyes, and olive skin. When the sun shines on her hair, I see hints and highlights of red, making me boil over with pride as I see both of us in her.
Life with both a five year old and a three year old is trying at times, but they are the light of my life. I’m savoring my last few months before my biggest girl, Halia, starts Kindergarten. We hosted her fifth birthday party today, which was quite a fete. Journey’s parents came into town as did her brother. Her parents have become a regular presence in our lives. They sold their Greenwich home and bought the estate of George Foster, II, at auction. Her brother comes around as often as possible, and he’s very much like a brother to me.
Unfortunately, we had no legal recourse in the decision of how or where Jenny would lay to rest. Her family chose to have her cremated. To this day, we don’t know where the ashes are, but her family’s attorneys assure us that they have been scattered in a place she considered to be a haven. We chose to leave it at that, and hope our intuition is correct.
Eventually, the lawsuits I filed against the Fosters, on behalf of my parents, went to litigation, and we emerged victorious. By that time, the Fosters were broke with only some real estate, including the house down the road, to their names, which were awarded to us in the suit. My parents sold it and donated the money to our charity. Jenny's father ultimately pled guilty to his crimes and now sits in prison.
As for the evil person who hurt Jenny, we had the option to try and find out his identity to pursue charges against him, but we risked him walking free due to lack of evidence of the crime, then maintaining the ability to file for custody of Halia. We have our suspicions as to whom it may be, but after speaking to multiple legal experts, psychologists, and the local District Attorney, it was determined that the case of rape would be difficult to prove and very flimsy. For the sake of my daughter and my family, we reluctantly resigned ourselves to never finding out for sure who the perpetrator was. It's extremely unfortunate, but more often than not, sex offenders, especially ones who are members of the victim's family, are never held accountable for their crimes. I am somewhat comforted by the fact that the lives of the Fosters have been ruined; however, I do fear for more victims.
I build a fire as Journey makes hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows, in the kitchen with the girls. When our tasks are complete, we gather together in the family room to decorate our Christmas tree. With Halia’s birthday so close to Christmas, it’s our tradition to celebrate her birthday, then put up our tree. We want to make sure that Halia’s birthday gets proper recognition, separate from Christmas.
Warmth spreads all throughout my body and to the very end of my limbs every time I see all three of my beautiful ladies smiling and laughing together. Today is no exception.
I watch as Journey helps the girls carefully place ornaments on the tree. At times, she picks one of them up so that they can reach higher branches.
“I think it should go on that one!” Halia tells her mommy, pointing to a branch that is beyond their reach.
“I think we might need to call in reinforcements,” Journey smiles.
Three sets of loving eyes turn to me. Journey smirks as the girls smile enthusiastically.
“Daddy!” Alissia calls out.
“We need you, Daddy,” Halia says. “Mommy can’t reach.”
“Okay, one moment.” I make sure the grate is in place in front of the fireplace before I step away to join them. I pinch Journey’s butt cheek as I stroll by her on my way to the tree. She purses her lips, grinning at the same time. Seeing Journey engaged with our daughters makes me love her even more, which I didn’t think was even possible.
She now has a few other doctors at her practice as well as a Physician’s Assistant, thus she has reduced her hours some so that she can be home more often. She doesn’t actually need to work, but she loves what she does, and it’s something I would never suggest she give up. She still coaches the high school cheerleading squad, but now co-coaches. She mostly chooses the music, does the choreography, and rehearses with them before competitions. She’s trained the other coaches well, and the team now has a strong reputation on the
national stage.
Now that all of our ornaments are on the tree, I turn to the girls. “I think Mommy should put the angel on the top, what do you think?”
They both cry out, “Yes!”
“Angel Jenny,” Alissia says.
“Yes, baby girl. That’s her name.” I pat my baby’s head.
Journey takes a moment to gaze at the angel with yellow hair in her hands, then at our daughters. The passage of time has helped ease the pain, but there are always reminders and memories remaining that cause a person to remember how much they miss another’s presence in their life, regardless of whether they are alive or deceased. Missing someone who left a positive impact on your life, is painful all the same. The difference in this case is that we can’t remedy that loss with a simple phone call or email. Journey’s eyes gloss over as tears begin to form in them. I give her a reassuring smile in an effort to hold my own tears back, and wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her so she can reach the top of the tree.
The angel is perfectly perched atop our family’s Christmas tree, and I am comforted knowing that at the very least, Jenny is with us in our memories. I firmly believe that her spirit is also with us, hugging our family tightly.
“I love you so much,” Journey tells me as I keep my arms wound tightly around her and look into her beautiful green eyes with the dark flecks that I know so well.
“I love you too.”
Halia and Alissia run to either side of us, hugging our legs. Our family is perfect, and my life is complete. So many years were spent without the love of my life, but I don’t dwell on that. I choose to savor every moment I have with Journey and our daughters, knowing full well that this joy and bliss could be taken away at any moment. I spend every day showing each of them how much I love them and ensuring that they know how much they mean to me. Life is too unpredictable to do otherwise. I know what it’s like to have everything you ever needed, then squander it, going nine long years without it.
