Today's Promises (24 page)

“Not that good,” I say in a teasing tone. “I found you, right?”

She pushes me away. “Shut up. You only found me with Jaynie’s help.”

“I’ll ignore that comment,” I say as the three of us share a laugh.

Next, on my own, I find Cody.

He’s hidden behind a big tree. It’s not a very good hiding spot, but I tell him otherwise to build his confidence.

“I pick the best-est hiding place
ever
,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Don’t I, Flynnie?”

“You sure do, kiddo,” I reply.

Cody then promptly gives away his sister.

Running over to a thick growth of shrubs, he pulls back the branches and informs a crouching Callie, “Did you see where I was hiding, Callie? Flynnie tell me I picked a good spot.”

“Cody!” Callie yells as she stands up and brushes off her knees. “You just gave me away, you jerk.”

“Hey, no name-calling,” Mandy chastises.

Since the kids are all wound up, we adults call for a break before the next game begins.

“It’ll give the kids some time to cool down,” Mandy says to me and Jaynie in a low voice as she hands the twins money for a nearby ice cream vendor.

Once they run off, the three of us sit down at a picnic bench, one where we have a good view of them.

“This day is really turning out to be fun,” Mandy remarks, smiling over at us.

“It is,” I agree. “And it’s really good for the twins, a reminder of the old times, but only the good ones.”

Jaynie interjects, “Hey, that reminds
me
of something. I have something for you, Mandy.”

Mandy appears curious right away. “What is it?” she asks.

Jaynie leans forward and fishes out a folded piece of parchment from the back pocket of her jeans. It’s the card the twins made for Mandy last summer.

“I meant to give this to you a long time ago,” she says, holding out the card. “I originally found it back in the fall, hidden away in the work barn.”

Mandy takes the card and reads it. From the tears gathering in her eyes, it’s clear she’s touched by the sweet sentiments the twins wrote long ago.

“Thank you for saving it for me,” she says softly when she’s done reading.

“I knew you would want it,” Jaynie says. “I’d forgotten about it back in the fall, but, luckily, I came across it last weekend when we were up at the work barn…”

Jaynie trails off, and we all fall silent. No one wants to bring up the subject of our failure to find evidence against Allison. It means there will never be justice for Debbie. Plus, Allison will be out of prison soon, free to do as she chooses.

I’m about to say something to lighten the rapidly growing somber mood, but just then my cell phone rings. We don’t get many calls, so it’s no surprise when Jaynie turns to me and asks, “Who the heck could that be?”

Peering down at the screen, I murmur, “It’s Detective Silver.”

“Answer it,” she says excitedly. “Hurry, Flynn, before it goes to voice mail.”

I do as Jaynie asks, and Detective Silver starts speaking right away. I listen, expecting the worst—that he found no evidence at the Lowry place and that it’s all over.

But then, as he goes on and on, his words paint a picture of a different outcome, one that’s making me smile like a lunatic.

“What is it?” Jaynie grabs my arm. “What’s he saying that’s making you so ridiculously happy, Flynn?”

Mandy chimes in, “Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Good news,” I mouth to the girls.

And it is. It’s the kind of news that leaves me feeling that, for the first time in a long time, the world just might be on our side.

Jaynie

A
llison Lowry remains in prison.

Detective Silver’s call, informing us that Debbie Canfield’s skeleton was found in the work barn, right where Flynn and I planted evidence, makes sure of that.

Wow, it was there all along, everything we needed. We just hadn’t dug deeply enough.

No matter, the case is solved.

The coroner determines that Debbie was strangled, and the early clues point to Allison. And then, to everyone’s surprise, some very damning evidence is discovered.

A diary was apparently buried with Debbie, far below where her bones were. The book doesn’t belong to the missing girl, however. It belongs to Allison, and it contains her own detailed account of how she planned to get rid of Debbie.

The find is as good as a confession, and our former tormentor is charged with murder. A trial date is set, but by the end of the summer Allison confesses, eliminating the need for a trial. She’s sentenced to life in prison, with no possibility for parole.

A few weeks later, the Lowry house and both barns are condemned. The property itself is slated to become a nature preserve and park. Flynn and I are happy with those developments, especially the idea of a park. From that point on, we closely monitor all progress to make sure it really happens.

And it does. The barns are torn down immediately, just not the house.

“It’s supposed to be demolished by October first,” Flynn informs me.

Curious as to how things look up there now, I suggest we drive over to Forsaken to see for ourselves.

We’re in a good mood on the way over, both of us happy that soon
all
the reminders of our suffering will be gone.

“This feels good,” I say to Flynn after we arrive at the Lowry property.

“It does,” he agrees with a smile.

We walk up the driveway and stop once we reach the house where we were once held captive.

“Knowing everything up here is about to be obliterated feels
so
right,” I murmur.

He hands me a rock. “Let’s make it feel even better.”

We proceed to throw rocks at the house, just like Jenny did in the movie
Forrest Gump
. And also like in the movie, sometimes there are just not enough rocks.

Afterward, we hike up to the cliffs and our secret place in the woods. They’re the only good places on the property, and we’re both thrilled they’ll remain untouched, both designated as parts of the preserve.

“After all, this is the place where we fell in love,” I say to Flynn under the ever-watchful ancient pines.

“And this is the place where I first kissed you,” he adds.

He steps in front of me and takes my face in his hands.

“Kiss me now,” I whisper.

He does. He kisses me now, today, in this moment.

“I love you, Jaynie-bird,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I love you too, Flynn O’Neill.”

We spend the next several minutes kissing, just kissing. We’re better at it than we were back then, because we know—we just know each other so incredibly well.

When we break apart, I declare, “This is like the end of an era and the start of a whole new beginning.”

Chuckling, he remarks, “Seems like we’ve had a lot of those, both endings and beginnings.”

“Maybe more than our fair share,” I agree. “But”—I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him on his cheek—“I have a feeling this new beginning is going to be the absolute best.”

“I think so too,” he agrees.

“Let’s seal it with another kiss,” I murmur, my soul humming with renewed hope.

“Let’s,” Flynn says.

We then do exactly that, because in every ending there is a chance for a new beginning.

And this one is ours.

Flynn

I
t’s been a while since that day on the cliffs—six years, to be exact. And the declaration we made that our new beginning that day was going to be the best… Well, that declaration has come to fruition. Our new life together—the life we started living after we truly put the past behind us—is the very best.

It’s so good these days, this life. No, wait—it’s
great
.

Jaynie and I now live up in Morgantown. We rent a three-bedroom apartment that feels like a mansion, and we’re saving to buy a house. Nothing fancy, just a place to call our own.

We moved up from Lawrence a few years ago so Jaynie could finish her studies at WVU. Oh, and so I could get started on mine.

We’re done with school now, though, and both of us are gainfully employed, working in our dream careers, actually.

How cool is that?

Jaynie is a counselor and special investigator, but not for the state foster care system. She works with kids, just as she always planned to do—deeply troubled kids, in fact—but she does so with a non-profit organization, one that vehemently stands by its mission statement to help and protect children who have been left behind or have been mistreated in any way.

I should mention here that we’re still in touch with Bill Delmont. He owns two sandwich shops now, one located right here in Morgantown. That’s important to the details of our life now, but more on that later.

Bill’s the same as he always was. That means he’s still helping kids who are over eighteen and out of the system. He gives them a chance at a better life. Just last week, Jaynie sent him a runaway who needed help, a kid who was living on the streets of Morgantown, too old for foster care, but too young to make it on his own.

Bill hired the kid on the spot and he now works at the same sandwich shop we once worked in and lived above.

But back to my and Jaynie’s current lives…

As mentioned, I now have a degree. And it’s in teaching.

That’s right, I actually followed through on the plan I devised that day long ago when I was working construction.

I currently teach a class of forty eager-to-learn fifth graders. And man, I love it.

Speaking of kids, it wasn’t all school and the prospect of future work that lured Jaynie and me up to Morgantown. Another reason we made the move was to be closer to the twins. After Mandy and Josh ran off and got married, and then officially adopted Cody and Callie, we knew the twins would definitely be staying with them. Jaynie and I decided we didn’t want to miss out on watching them grow up.

And we haven’t.

The twins are fifteen now. And, wow, all I can say is that they’re a handful. In a good way, of course.

Callie is a blast. She makes me laugh when I think of her rebellious heart. I don’t know if Mandy would agree, though. Callie’s been driving her crazy lately. From what I’ve heard, she’s trying to persuade her mom to let her date some sixteen-year-old skateboard dude.

Mandy doesn’t approve of him, but that’s no surprise. They butt heads a lot, since Callie is like a mini-Mandy.

The skateboarder is a decent dude, though. I know this because you bet your ass I vetted him. Josh did too, but he’s a little bit of a pushover when it comes to the kids. I know that if I give my stamp of approval on the skateboarder dude, Mandy will come around. I will, but I’m going to let the little princess Callie sweat it out a little first.

Cody is also doing great. He finally found his strength—making music. I should’ve seen it coming, from that day long ago when Jaynie and I taught him math with colored dowels. All he really wanted to do that day was use those dowels as drumsticks. He made an awful racket back then, but he sure does make beautiful music now. He plays all the time too, often filling his family home with electric guitar riffs.

I have to laugh.

I bet Josh rues the day he bought Cody his own guitar. But then again, probably not. When Cody and Josh play together, which they do now quite a bit, they sound incredible. Josh knows it too. That’s why he’s promised to take Cody out with him when he plays some gigs this summer. Mandy gave them the go-ahead, but only if Cody picks up some extra shifts at the Morgantown Delmont Sandwich Shop.