She hugged him back. “I know you do, and I love you, too.”
“We can go back to Chicago, Jess. I can probably get my old job back. And if not—”
“Shhhhh,” she shushed him, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. “We’re not going back. It’s time to move forward. Our life is in Florida now. Besides, I’ve been researching the school system here, and I think it’s time I went back to work.”
Owen’s breath caught. “Jess?”
She sent him a smile that reflected in her eyes. “We have plenty of time to discuss future plans. Come on, let’s go home.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Jessica pushed the frilly-pink stroller down the sidewalk of Meadowbrook Circle, watching a string of kids pedal down the street on the bikes they’d obviously gotten for Christmas.
Her mind wondered back to an image she’d painted the night before of Jacob, running through a field of flowers. And on Jacob’s right, ran Terry Dayton, laughter evident on his little face.
Jess inwardly smiled at the final image Terry had left her with. Jacob was at peace.
She grinned up at Owen who strolled along beside her. “Do you remember how excited Jacob was when we took the training wheels off his bike?”
Jessica could speak of their son now without shattering into a million pieces. Though she would miss Jacob everyday for the rest of her life, she had finally learned to live again.
“I remember,” Owen laughed, winking down at his wife. “He skinned his knee in the first five minutes.”
A cool breeze blew through the street, lifting Jessica’s hair from her neck. She inhaled the fresh air and reached for her husband’s hand. “She looks a lot like Jacob, doesn’t she?”
Owen peered down at his tiny daughter, sleeping in the stroller. “She really does. Only, I think she’s going to have her mother’s eyes.”
“Hmmm, you may be right. But I hope she has yours. I love your eyes.”
“I love everything about you,” Owen whispered, bending down to brush his lips across hers.
Jessica straightened as they passed the Martins’ house. The door opened a few inches and Gerri Martin’s face could be seen in the shadows.
Jess slowed her steps and lifted her hand in a subtle wave.
The door opened a little more.
Jessica had only seen Gerri Martin once since Eustice’s death. The poor abused woman had holed up in that house, lost and alone.
On the few occasions Jessica had gone over and knocked, she’d been met with silence.
Gerri awkwardly stepped out onto her porch, visibly nervous and anxious.
“Come on,” Jess whispered to Owen, nodding toward the insecure neighbor.
Owen appeared uncertain. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She might blame us for what happened to her husband.”
Jessica had already thought of that. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Turning off the sidewalk, Jessica pasted a smile on her face and pushed the pink stroller up Gerri Martin’s drive.
She stopped at the steps to the porch. “Hi, Gerri. How are you doing?”
Gerri took a hesitant step forward, her gaze lowering to the stroller. “I-I’m better. I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning and packing up Eustice’s things.”
Owen cleared his throat. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Martin.”
“I’m not,” Gerri shyly admitted, taking another step toward the stroller. “May I?”
Jessica stepped up onto the porch and eased the stroller top back. “This is our daughter.”
“Oh my,” Gerri breathed, her voice wobbly with unshed tears. “I never had children of my own. Though I always wanted them.”
Leaning forward to get a better look, Gerri smiled, her face lighting up with unguarded joy. “She is so beautiful. What’s her name?”
Jessica reached into the stroller and gently retrieved her daughter. She turned toward Gerri and laid the sleeping baby in her arms. “We named her Terri…”
The End
If you enjoyed The Boy in the Window, read below for a sneak peek into the pages of Enigma: What Lies Beneath—A Science Fiction/Post-Apocalyptic Thriller/Romance that will leave you reeling.
Prologue
“Abbie, wait.”
Henry’s voice could barely be heard over the thundering of waves crashing in the distance.
An endless stream of tears streaked down Abbie’s face as great racking sobs seized her small body. Pain welled up from her chest until it became impossible to breathe. Still, she ran.
Her father’s shouts faded with every step she took until they disappeared altogether.
Branches grabbed at her arms like the bony fingers of a thousand skeletons, cutting into her skin. She welcomed the sting of every scratch; anything to relieve the pain in her heart.
Her mother’s cold, pale face burned behind her eyes, frozen and empty. Gone were the laugh lines, the sparkle…the life.
Abbie couldn’t bear to see her mother lying in a box for hundreds of people to pass by and say words over. She might be only seven, but she was old enough to know it meant goodbye. A coffin, they’d called it. Resting place. Final.
A wail wrenched from her small chest. It ricocheted off the trees, scattering birds in different directions. She’d give anything to have wings in that moment, to fly away and never look back.
Abbie burst onto the beach without slowing. Her little legs ate up the sand as she ran straight for the water.
Memories of swimming with her mother lit through her mind in sorrowful detail. The laughter, splashing around and exploring the unknown.
A storm was coming, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel her mother’s presence, to beg God to give her back.
“Abbie, do you know why the ocean is salty? It’s all the tears God cries when someone passes away.”
“Mama, what does ‘passes away’ mean?”
“Well, it means when people die, they leave this earth to become angels.”
“If they get to be angels, then why does God cry?”
“For the ones that are left behind who will miss them after they’re gone.”
Abbie sailed headlong into the waves with her sights on the second sandbar. She would swim out as far as she could to be sure her prayers were heard. If God cried enough to create an ocean, maybe He would take pity on her and give back her mother.
The weight of her skirt wrapping around her legs made it hard to move in the churning water. She used her arms to pull herself along in a rowing motion until the current became too strong, forcing her to dive under and swim. Her eyes stung from the salt, but she held them open while memories of her mother’s voice whispered through her mind.
“Abbie, did you know that dolphins can communicate with humans?”
“What is commu…commu—”
“It means talk to them.”
“Have you ever talked to a dolphin?
“I sure have.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“He said for me to tell my daughter to stop peeing in the water where his kids play.”
Her mother’s tinkering laughter echoed through her heart as she fought the tide in search of the sandbar.
Abbie’s arms eventually grew weary and her lungs began to burn, leaving her no choice but to kick her way up for air.
Her head broke the surface to a wall of water so high it blocked out the sun. She opened her mouth to scream a second before a powerful wave crashed down on top of her, taking her back under.
Her body spun head over heels along the Gulf floor, leaving her powerless to stop the undertow. Panic gripped her as sand scraped her face, entering her mouth and eyes. The need to breathe became too strong, and Abbie gave up the fight. Pain. Darkness.
Cold. Abbie felt chilled to her bones. Her chest burned, and something was caught in her throat. A spasm gripped her and she heaved.
A voice she didn’t recognize. She screamed for someone to help her, to remove the heaviness from her neck.
Something slid along her arms to her hands. Tingling warmth. Heat spread out from her palms through her stomach and legs. The shivering stopped.