To the Moon and Back

  Ashley found the beginning and started.

  “Okay . . . here it is: ‘Dear Jenna, Like I do every year, I wrote you a letter. In case you come to the memorial today. In case you want to find me as much as I want to find you. Every year I do this, I leave you a note in case. Anyway, here I am again, eleventh year in a row.’ ” Ashley paused, taking it in. “ ‘Eleven times I’ve come to this fence and looked for you. Eleven times I’ve written you a letter and left it here. Hoping you’d find it.’ ”

  Kari gasped under her breath. “Eleven times!” She motioned to Ashley. “Keep reading.”

  “I’m trying.” Ashley raised her brow slightly and smiled.

  “Sorry. Go on. Really.”

  Ashley found her place. “ ‘Every year things wind up the same way. You don’t come to the memorial. You don’t walk the fence. You don’t find my letter.’ ” Ashley adjusted the photo again. The picture was still blurry. “ ‘Don’t you remember, Jenna? What it was like having that one day together?

  “ ‘We met here and I thought . . . I don’t know, I thought it would be easy to find you. I had your name and number in my pocket when I left that day. It was sitting on my dresser for three days. I know it. But then . . . something happened. Someone moved it or took it or threw it away. I’ll never know, but it was gone.’ ”

  “Gone?” Kari covered her mouth. “That’s terrible.”

  “So sad.” Ashley picked up where she left off. “ ‘And now—even after all this time—I still think about you. I guess at first I hoped you would call me, since I didn’t call you. The truth is, I don’t think about anyone but you. I’m a firefighter in Oklahoma City. It gives me purpose. But I’m alone. I’m always alone.’ ”

  Ashley stopped for a minute and lowered her phone. “He’s a firefighter.” She said the words more to herself than to Kari. Was that why he had seemed so familiar? The way he stood and moved and walked? She glanced at her sister. “No wonder he looked like Landon.”

  Kari sat forward. “Ash. Be careful.” She waited, watching Ashley. “You don’t know him.”

  Her sister was right. But still.

  Ashley lifted her phone again. “I’m almost done.” She tapped the photo and made the image even bigger. She took a deep breath. “ ‘That day, the day we had together eleven years ago, we were only seventeen.

  “ ‘But I knew I’d never meet anyone who shared my story the way you did. I lost my mom and you lost both your parents in the building that horrible Wednesday. There’s never been anyone who could understand that. Not until you, Jenna.’ ” Ashley closed her eyes for a brief moment. The guy’s letter was killing her. She blinked away the tears welling in her eyes.

  When she could see clearly, Ashley continued. “ ‘Please find this letter. Look for me. Call me. My number’s at the bottom.’ ”

  “Wow.” Kari was clearly captivated. “All these years.”

  “I know.” Ashley looked at the letter again and kept reading. “ ‘I’ll be waiting for you. And if I don’t hear from you, if you don’t find this, then I’ll be back at the memorial again next year. On the anniversary. And the year after that, and the next one.

  “ ‘And one of these days, Jenna . . . one of these days you’ll be here. I’ll find you. I have to believe that. Remember what you said? Our hearts are the same. And so they are. Always. Brady Bradshaw.’ ”

  Ashley put down her phone and looked at Kari. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “The guy won’t make it another few years.”

  “I know.” Kari wiped at a single tear. “So sad.”

  The image of Brady at the fence consumed Ashley. Her mind raced. “I have to help him. I can find Jenna. I know I can.”

  “Ashley.” Gentle disapproval colored Kari’s tone. “It isn’t your place. You’re a married woman.”

  “Yes!” Ashley felt her own frustration rise up. “And I’m more in love with Landon every day.” She forced herself to calm down. Patience, Ashley. Patience . She exhaled. “This has nothing to do with the guy. How he looks, or whatever you’re thinking.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kari’s eyes grew soft. “That was out of line.”

  “It’s okay. I get it.” Ashley felt the fight leave her. She took her time, sorting through her thoughts. “It’s just . . . what if God put him next to me for a reason? What if there’s more to the story and I’m supposed to . . .” She looked around the room trying to find the words. Finally she lifted her hands and let them fall to her lap again. Her eyes locked with her sister’s. “I don’t know, maybe it’s up to me to help them find each other.”

  Kari nodded. “Okay.” Her expression was more sympathetic. “I hear you.” She hesitated, her voice soft. “But, Ash . . . you don’t even know her last name. Just Jenna.”

  Kari had a point. Ashley tapped her fingers on her knee and studied the bedspread for a few heartbeats. “I could find Brady on Facebook. Somewhere. Maybe even reach out to him.” She turned to Kari. “Just to tell him I want to help.”

  “Or maybe Landon could contact him.” Kari wasn’t pushing. Ashley could tell. Her sister just wanted to guide Ashley in the right direction.

  “Good idea.” Ashley smiled. Kari was right. Landon was a firefighter. Maybe he could talk to the guy. Surely, Landon would be in favor of the idea.

  There was a sound at the door. A key sliding through the lock. Kari jumped up. “They’re back!”

  Ashley stood, too. The timing was perfect. She could hardly wait to tell Landon about their day. About the Survivor Tree and the memorial and the chalk patio. And the heartbroken firefighter she’d met at the fence. And her idea.

  That somehow the two of them could help him.

  7

  T he heartache that lived in the deepest places of Jenna Davis was a private one.

  She didn’t tell many people about her past. Her co-workers knew her story, but only the basic details. Her loss that dark April day wasn’t something she talked about, the feelings hers alone. And without a close friend in her life, Jenna had no one to share her pain with. No one who remembered what happened to her twenty-three years ago at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building.

  If she were still in Oklahoma, maybe.

  But Jenna lived in Columbus, Ohio, and the tragedy of that far-off April 19 was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Even today. Sure the late night news might make mention of the bombing. If more pressing stories didn’t fill up the hour. But it wasn’t likely.

  Jenna smoothed the wrinkles from her black wool pencil skirt and checked her look in the mirror of the staff restroom. Martin Luther King Junior Elementary School had one of the nicest newly renovated facilities in the city. Jenna was blessed to work here. She had the best second-grade class in all of Ohio and her colleagues were some of the finest teachers in the state.

  She added another layer of lipstick and fixed her hair. Her eyes looked greener in this light. Same eyes as her mother. That’s what her grandma used to tell her. Jenna studied herself. Last night at the science fair one of the parents had told her the same thing Jenna had heard a hundred times.

  “You look like Emma Stone.” The woman had smiled at her. “Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jenna had thanked the woman and moved on.

  She loved the compliment, but not for the obvious reasons. She loved it because that’s what Brady had told her. Back then Emma Stone had done her debut film—some teenage comedy. At that point no one really knew the actress.

  They had both seen the commercial for the movie, and neither of them liked it.

  Something else they had in common.

  Jenna took a deep breath. Where are you today, Brady? Whatever happened to you? She hesitated, waiting. But there would be no answer. Not from the bathroom mirror and not from God. She had asked enough times to know that. She slipped her lipstick back into her purse, walked to her second-grade classroom, and shut the door behind her. The kids were still at lunch, still running
around the playground, laughing and carefree.

  Unaware of the anniversary, or the sadness in their teacher’s heart.

  Music. That’s what she needed. She used her phone to start her favorite playlist, something she liked to do before the kids returned to their desks. There were speakers on either side of the room. The set started with Kyle Kupecky’s song “Come Home.”

  As the music played, Jenna couldn’t help but sing along.

  My life’s a different story, than I thought it would be . . . I’ve collected a few memories, never thought I would see. I’ve traveled far . . . far away from home .

  Jenna leaned against her chair and closed her eyes. She could’ve written the song herself. She drew a breath and blinked. Ten minutes and the students would be back in their seats. A pile of papers with the afternoon’s reading assignment sat on her desk. One for each of the boys and girls.

  She took the stack and distributed it while the music played on.

  But You tell me You love me . . . and You say to me it’s never too late. Wherever you are, no matter how far . . . you can still come home.

  They were God’s words to her. Jenna knew that. She had lived them, after all. Somewhere along the journey of years since her last visit to the Oklahoma City memorial she had indeed found her way home.

  Back to God.

  The classroom door opened and a stream of twenty- three children ran inside and took their seats. Other teachers had a rule against running. Not Jenna. Life was too short. Olivia, the smallest child in the class, rushed up to her. “Miss Jenna, Edward hit me with the ball at recess!”

  The girl had a red welt on her cheek. Jenna shifted her gaze to Edward. The child’s head was practically bald—the result of an outbreak of lice last week. Before that Edward’s hair had gone down to his shoulders. Didn’t seem to matter, long or short. Edward’s eyes sparkled with the possibility of mischief, though he gave her his best impression of an angel.

  Something else the boy was good at.

  “Edward.” Jenna raised her brow. “Come here, please.”

  The other students were still getting situated, looking at the papers on their desks. Edward did as he was asked. When he reached Jenna, his eyes grew large. Innocence personified. “Yes, Miss Jenna?”

  She looked at Olivia’s red cheek and back to Edward. “Did you hit Olivia with the ball during recess?”

  “Not really.” Edward blinked a few times. “I was playing dodgeball.” He smiled at Olivia. “Hits happen in dodgeball.”

  “No!” Olivia’s eyes welled up. She rubbed the mark on her face. “We weren’t playing dodgeball, Miss Jenna. We were playing kickball. And kickball means you don’t throw the ball at someone’s face just because they got a good kick.”

  “You’re right.” Jenna looked at Edward again. “It’s only dodgeball if everyone agrees. Do you understand?”

  Edward lowered his chin nearly to his chest. He crossed his arms with a huff. “I was tired of kickball.”

  “Edward.” Her tone was more serious now. “Tell Olivia you’re sorry.”

  “Yeah, tell me.” Olivia was small, but feisty. She wasn’t having any of this from Edward.

  He looked like he was in actual pain. An apology was clearly the last thing Edward wanted to do.

  “Fine.” He looked at Olivia, his eyes more squinty than before. “Sorry you didn’t want to play dodgeball.”

  “No.” Jenna needed to get the afternoon started. She stood and looked down at Edward. “That’s not an apology. Say it now. Unless you’d like to spend the afternoon in the principal’s office.”

  “Okay.” The boy’s expression softened. His tone followed. “Sorry for hitting you, Olivia.”

  The girl touched her red face again. “I forgive you. I guess.”

  “Listen.” Jenna looked from Edward to Olivia and back. “What’s the number one rule in our class?”

  Both kids looked at Jenna. Olivia spoke first. “Always love each other . . .”

  Edward nodded and finished the statement. “Because second grade doesn’t have that many days.”

  “That’s it.” Jenna gave the two what she hoped was an encouraging look. “Now go sit down.”

  Olivia hesitated. She smiled up at Jenna. “You’re pretty.”

  “Thank you, Olivia.” Jenna loved teaching kids this age. They said whatever they were thinking. No shame. “You’re pretty, too.”

  The girl should’ve gone to her desk, but she was fixated on Jenna’s necklace. “Why do you wear a key around your neck?”

  Jenna fiddled with it. The key was dark bronze on a chain the same color. She’d had it for three years today. A gift she’d bought herself for the anniversary. The year her husband left without looking back. Jenna stooped down. Focus on the child, she told herself. “It’s called a Giving Key.”

  “The key’s giving something?” Olivia reached up and touched Jenna’s necklace. “Seems like a regular key.”

  “It is.” Jenna smiled. “Kind of.”

  The rest of the class was settling in. They had two minutes until the bell. Olivia lifted her blue eyes to Jenna. “Why’s it called ‘giving’?”

  “Because one day I’m supposed to find the right person to give it to. With a Giving Key necklace, you look for a reason to give it away.”

  Olivia nodded, but she still appeared confused. “Why’d you get it?”

  “Because.” Jenna felt the beginning of tears, but she refused them. “It reminds me of my mommy and daddy.”

  “Oh.” The answer seemed to do the trick. Olivia grinned. “Bye!” She skipped back to her chair.

  Jenna held the key and ran her thumb along the surface. She wore it as often as she could. Some of the teachers and several of the kids had noticed over the last few years. For Jenna it was a reminder. She’d had it custom-made, with just one thing engraved on the front and back.

  She drew a deep breath and stuffed her emotions to the basement of her heart. Thoughts about the anniversary could come later. A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Who remembers what book we’re reading?”

  Hands shot up around the room, but several children yelled out the answer before she could choose one of them. “Noah’s Ark! Noah’s Ark!”

  Just hearing them say the name of the Old Testament Bible story brought a rush of joy. None of the other teachers had thought she could do it. Get the principal to approve Noah’s Ark for the reading project this month. But Jenna had done her homework.

  The story of Noah and the Ark was listed as approved literature in the Ohio State Board of Education guidelines. Jenna assumed it was an oversight, but nevertheless, the title remained among other classics. Jenna was thrilled for the chance to tell kids the story, to introduce them to the truth. Because even children didn’t have all the time in the world.

  As Jenna knew all too well.

  So when she sought permission to share the story with her class there wasn’t really any discussion. Reluctantly, her principal agreed. A few of the parents had expressed shock that they were studying Noah’s Ark in a public school. Most of them were thrilled but a few seemed on the fence about the idea. One or two were even upset. Jenna had just smiled and shrugged. “It’s classic literature according to the state.”

  Jenna had used her own money to purchase every student a copy of the children’s version of the story. Each afternoon they would read a section of the book out loud, and answer the questions on the handout.

  They had already talked about the people being wicked, and how God had asked Noah to build an ark even before it started to rain. Today they were reading about the animals coming two by two.

  From the beginning the kids’ questions were hysterical.

  “Miss Jenna, why didn’t Noah just leave the spiders and ants behind?”

  “Do you think the bear was the scariest animal on the ark?”

  “Was there an indoor play yard for the animals to run around?”

  Jenna did her best to answer. Spiders and ants
must’ve been part of God’s plan. The bear was probably tied with the lion for most scary. And an indoor track would’ve been a good idea. “I’ll bet they had one,” she told the child who asked. “They needed some way to get their exercise.”

  Today’s discussion was good. Especially the last question of the day. One little girl raised her hand. “Miss Jenna, do you think the story of Noah and the Ark is real?”

  “Absolutely.” Jenna smiled and sat on the edge of her desk. “I believe God created the world, and I believe He sent the flood. Because people had turned against Him.”

  “And only God could do something like that, right?” The child grinned.

  “Exactly.” Jenna checked the clock on the wall. “Okay, boys and girls. That’s it for today!”

  Jenna could hardly wait to talk about the rainbow tomorrow. She walked her students outside to the front of the school and waited as every child boarded a bus or was picked up by a parent.

  Andy Collins was last to leave. His grandparents had custody of him and most days his grandpa was late. Jenna didn’t mind waiting. Andy struggled more than all the kids in her class. His parents were convicted drug dealers, so the hurt from that spilled into his time at school.

  “How was your day, Andy?” Jenna often had this conversation with the boy while they waited for his grandfather.

  Andy shrugged and looked away. “Not good.”

  Jenna studied him. “I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  For half a minute Andy didn’t say anything. Finally the boy looked at her again. “It was those same ones. The boys who always pick on me.”

  “Oh, no.” Jenna knew the kids. They were mean to lots of the younger students. Andy was quiet and shy, often standing off by himself during lunch and recess, which didn’t help.

  Andy looked at her. “They pushed me down and kicked me. A lot of times.”

  “What?” Anger shot adrenaline through Jenna’s body. “That’s terrible.” She worked to keep her cool. “I’m sorry, Andy. That never should’ve happened. I’ll talk to the principal. We’ll figure this out.”