Jenn traced her fingers over the journal until it blurred from her tears.
Her phone vibrated and rang with calls from Greg, then Kozak. They would give her more answers.
In the time after, Jenn worked with Dr. Maynart to heal.
And one day—when she was ready—they went to the cemetery in the country where everyone thought they had buried Jenn.
Kozak had helped with officials in Erie County and in Ohio to make the confirmation and make everything legal.
The headstone meant for Jenn was now engraved with the name of Heather Katherine Korvin, her half sister. Jenn set flowers on the stone for the sister she only knew in death.
* * *
As more time passed, there was a moment, an innocent moment, that came to mark a turning point for Jenn.
Jake had begged to play a game of family football in the backyard, their first since the “bad time,” as it had come to be known.
“Just like before. I play on Mom’s side, then I play on Dad’s,” Jake said.
The game progressed, and Jenn was winning by a lot when she noticed something was wrong.
“You’re not even tackling me, Greg.”
“You’re just too fast.”
Sensing he was being overcautious, maybe feeling the need not to hurt her on any level, she knew what she had to do.
“That’s a lie. You’re not even trying. I’m tougher than you think, buddy.” Jenn laughed. “Chicken.”
“Yeah, Dad, you’re a chicken!” Jake said.
Reading the deeper meaning of “tougher than you think,” and the gleam in Jenn’s eyes, Greg grinned, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Okay, baby, look out.”
On the next play Greg tackled her with Jake piling on, his little fingers digging deep into her. Jenn said, “Oww!” to the pain, wincing while loving it.
“Are you all right, Mom?”
“I’m fine, honey. It’s okay,” she said to both of them. “It’s okay!”
And it was okay.
For little by little, Jenn, Jake, and Greg got on with their lives. Things would never be exactly the same for Jenn because, in the wake of the horrible truth, her life was now a different one: one she came to treasure even more.
Some nights she would wake, turn to Greg, loving him for who he was. Then she’d get out of bed, go to Jake’s room and watch over him as he slept, loving him more than she could imagine.
Theirs was not a perfect life.
It was a real life.
And some nights, in their home in Trailside Grove, Jenn, Jake, and Greg would light their chime, just like Jenn’s grandmother and her mother had done, listening to the gentle tinkling while watching the angels.
* * *