"Thank you." I think. Why is she here? Michael did once tell me they were still friends. I can't remember seeing her at his funeral.
"This might seem strange. Is there somewhere we could talk?"
Curious, I lift Bindi from my lap, then stand to brush the dirt from my pants. "What's this about?"
"It's about Michael."
"I don't think there's anything to discuss. As you can see, Michael is gone."
"It's something from Michael. Please, is there a coffee shop or park we could go?" she says, smiling at Bindi.
Now very curious, I tell her to follow me to the local coffee shop and buckle Bindi back in her seat. I climb into the driver's seat. She waits in her car behind mine, and I put the car in gear. "Let's find out what this is all about, shall we?" I say, looking at Cami in the rearview mirror.
Ten minutes later, I'm pulling Bindi back out, and we are walking into the coffee shop. I find us an isolated table, pull up a high chair, sit Bindi down and hand her some crackers from her diaper bag. Cami returns with two coffees and hands one over. "Thank you," I say and try to steady my hand.
"So, is this Michael's little granddaughter?" she asks, shaking one of Bindi's small hands.
"Yes, this is Bindi." I take a sip of the coffee and set it down. "Cami, why are we here?"
"The board was cleaning Michael's office out a month ago, and we found this." As she pulls something from her purse, my hands begin to tremble as I pick up my coffee. Through the tremors, coffee splashes over the rim and the hot liquid to run down my fingers. But I'm too nervous about reaching for a napkin and begin with slow sips.
She hands me the envelope, and I freeze when I see the name scribbled across the paper—my name. "I think you should read what is in this letter," she says.
Setting the cup down, I wipe my hands on my jeans and reach for the envelope. My heart races and I slowly tear open the seal and pull out the letter.
Dear Jill,
As I'm writing this letter, I don't know if you'll ever get it. And if you are reading this, please know that I have passed. A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Cancer, and currently, I'm receiving chemotherapy. But that's not why I'm writing this.
I'm writing this letter to beg for your forgiveness. You must know that I regretted my past with you and wished I could have been a better husband and father. Each day I'm haunted by the way I treated you and left you and Monica. I'd do anything if given another chance. How I would do everything so different. I hate to think that one day you will look back, and see me as the worst thing in your life.
I know it's too late now to tell you this. I love you, Jill. I always have. I know you won't believe me, and I understand. You made me feel so many things, and the problem was, I didn't know what to do with it. So, instead of learning from you and accepting your love, I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. I hope you're happy with Drake and the two of you live the life I wished I could have had with you. He loves you, Jill, and you deserve to have his love. Please know, that when I left and said I couldn't do this anymore, it wasn't about you. It was about me not wanting to hurt you anymore. I was always in my own way, and now it's too late. If there's one thing life has taught me, it's this. In the end, we're all just stories. And I wished mine could have ended with you. I love you, Jill. Take care.
Love, Michael
Epilogue
Five years later
Never does it get easy. Death. Not even when it's a long, loved pet that dies from old age. I think back to Molly, our little cocker spaniel and how she got me through Monica's college years. That dog became just as good of a friend as Tammy. Even though she only listened and let me have all the wine. I miss Molly and her little, furry body snuggling against me on the couch. I'd talk; she'd listen. Her sheepish eyes looking up from her brows each time I spoke. I miss petting her head and rubbing her ears and listening to her quiet moans when it felt good on a tender spot. The day I finally had to put her to rest gutted me from the inside out. No longer could she eat, and when she smelled food cooking, she would find someplace to become sick. Though there was no food in her belly. No longer could she go on walks and had to be carried to go outside to potty. That's when I knew she no longer had any quality of life and it was too cruel to expect her to go on.
I'm no longer a nurse at the hospital, but still use my medical training as an office manager. Today is one of the days I hate, because like I said, it never gets any easier. We have lost a long-loved patient, Booker. A seventeen-year-old golden retriever. I never got the privilege of meeting Booker as a puppy, but as an overweight, hard of hearing, grey face dog.
I stare at the blank piece of paper in front of me, waiting on the words to come. I want each letter to be personal and reflect the lives of these special pets that held the heart of their owners. When I begin to cry, I know I'm on the right track. But today is a little hard for me, because Booker died next to me, his eyes looking up in appreciation as he took his last breath. The end was near, and I held his paw until there was no more heartbeat. And now, I'm writing a letter to his owners who have already buried him in their pet cemetery. This is something we do as comfort and peace and the understanding that they made the right decision. And the right decisions are always the toughest.
"Awe, aren't you just the cutest thing."
Looking up from the paper, Tammy, as Marilyn, holds a kitten in her hand. It's good to see her on these tough days. She softly strokes the small kitten’s head as it meows quietly.
"Where have you been these days?" I ask her.
"Around. You've hadn't needed me as much."
"I always need you." I smile at her powdered face and red lips. "I miss you; you know."
"I know. So, we've come to help."
"We?"
"Hello, Jill." It’s Michael.
"Hi," I whisper and look into his blue eyes. He's dressed all in white, not what I had him buried in, and sits on a chair in the waiting area. It's a good thing we're closed because I wouldn't have this time with them. "What are you here to help me with?"
"Your letter. You ready?"
I pick up my pen and look up. "Yes."
"Jot this down," he says, and I begin to write.
Dear family,
Remember when you first saw me as a puppy, all cute and fuzzy? That was the first day I also saw you, and I wiggled with excitement, hoping you would pick me. Through the years, I wasn't always such a good puppy. But no matter what I did, you would always welcome me with open arms. As we grew together, we built beautiful memories. And even though I'm gone, those memories will keep me alive forever in your heart. We had good times and not so good times. But that never stopped you from loving and taking care of me. I want you to know that my life was a good one because of you. When it came to love, you were all I ever knew and all I ever wanted. Though I ran off a few times, I deserved the swats on my behind. But after that, I was back in your arms and in your heart. So, please go on and know that though you may find another dog, I'll know that I was always special to you. I want you to be happy and think of me without tears. Think of me each time you laugh and are loved because you deserve it.
I finish the letter and look up. "It sounds like you're talking about yourself."
"Maybe I am. But I'm not really here, Jill."
"Maybe you are."
He gets up and walks over and takes a seat on my desk. "I'm here because I'm always here." His finger touches my heart.
"Yes, you will always be."
I read through the letter once more, make a few changes and adding our company condolence at the bottom.
Your love and unselfishness for your beloved pet was the kindest thing he will ever know. We are all so sorry for the loss of Booker and are also sadden here, for we too will no longer see him come in. Please take care and know we are here for you.
Love, Michael
A honk outside tells me my ride is here, so I get up and lock up the office. Looking around once more befo
re stepping outside, I say goodbye to Tammy and Michael. They both smile and fade into thin air.
I watch the truck pull up the lane and lean on the rail of the porch. Crossing my legs, I smile down at my cowboy boots, thinking back to the night Michael took me to a country bar and sung to me. Maybe he was preparing me back then. As Michael and Tammy were preparing for their deaths, I think both were preparing me for life.
The truck parks and out jumps Bindi, followed behind by her little brother, Michael Julian. They both run up and give me big hugs. "You guys have a good time?"
"Yes, we did," little Michael says. He's three and will talk your leg off.
"Grandma, you should have seen it. It was amazing," Bindi says, full of excitement.
I hear the truck door shut and watch him walk toward me in blues jeans, cowboy boots, and a ragged T-shirt. "Everything locked up?"
"Yes. Letters all wrote and ready to send."
Wrapping his arms around me, he looks into my eyes and kisses me with love. "I love you, Peaches." Peaches. I'll never tire of it.
"Sounds like the grandkids were pretty amazed watching a colt be born."
"Yep. And…," he says pulling into his arms, "They're ours for the weekend. I asked Monica if they could stay with us at the farm."
"Really? Thank you. You're such a wonderful man, Doc. How'd I get so lucky to have a husband like you?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it. I've always been yours, Peach. Time just has a way of moving in many directions. I've always been drawn to you. That tells me you are connected to my path."
He's right. You may not see it today or tomorrow, but you will look back in a few years and be utterly puzzled by how every little thing added up and brought you somewhere beautiful—or where you always wanted to be. And you might even be grateful that things didn't work out the way you once wanted them to. As for Michael, he will always be part of us. After his death, I was the sole beneficiary of the Danforth Jet Center. Of which now Jordan runs remotely from home. Monica now runs a preschool in her home and is expecting baby number three in a few months.
"All right. Let's load Grammy in the truck and head out to the farm," Drake says and swings little Michael around, giving him a piggyback ride back to the truck.
"I get to ride Honey first," Bindi yells, making a beeline to the truck. Honey is one of the horses on the farm.
I look back once more and read the big letters on the side of the building. Michael Danforth Animal Hospital. This is what I did with Michael's inheritance, and together, Drake, and I run the hospital. Drake had no problem letting me use Michael's name, and this is why we sign each and every letter of condolence, Love, Michael.
Drake and Tawny divorced right after the twins left for college. Tawny said she needed a long-needed break and went on a cruise to find herself. She found herself in cabin 214 in bed with another man. Once she returned, she asked Drake for a divorce. We have no idea if she and this man are still together.
The twins are both in graduate school to become veterinarians like their father, and currently, live together in Michael and my old home. Drake says once they are on their path, he would like to use the house for college students who are studying to become doctors. I couldn't agree more.
Now that I'm much older…and wiser…I look back and see my fears differently. When Michael and I were younger, the fear of losing him scared me. Because I had given so much of myself to him in pieces, when he left, I feared losing myself. And that's when I learned that, if you're no longer able to change a situation, you must change yourself. Because your mind will believe everything you tell it. So, feed it with faith, truth and most all love.
Tammy and Michael will always be of my heart and soul. Part of me. Together, we're all woven into a tapestry of memories, good and bad, laughs and cries. But, that's life. It's how we chose to remember someone. So, don't hang on to the bad memories. Always think of them as part of you. Because everyone you love will reflect yourself. And life is only preparing you for what's next. So…be ready, embrace it and enjoy it to the fullest.
It was hard…so hard losing Michael. People ask me how I deal. If I would have been better off if he’d never came back. And it’s a fair question. I did lose him again. But this is what I tell them.
Michael and I were married till death do us part. And it was the one vow he never broke. And I would have never known, if I had never become a seventeen-year-old mother and wife…to Michael Danforth.
The End
About the Author
Gina A. Jones began writing in secret after falling in love with many of her favorite authors. Once she was caught, her husband made her dream of publishing come true. Her first novel, His Secret became too epic and turned into a trilogy of which made her an award-winning author. Debuting October 2017, the Secret Series was followed by Her Secret and Secret Enemy. The elusive and much flawed, Jonas Fairbanks stoled the hearts of women around the globe, knocking Gina into a world of romance and suspense.
Not only does Gina love to read and write, but audiobooks have become her next guilty pleasure. This is the only way she gets her pump on at the gym, gardening, and lawn mowed. Did you know she narrated one of her own books? Love, Michael was based on some real events in her young life. Hop on over to her audio samples and have a listen. She hopes to also work as a narrator for other authors.
As a new author, Gina inspires to entertain readers through the lives of her fictional characters, taking them to places unimaginable. She loves spending her time weaving stories into masterful novels. When she's not writing, you'll find her playing with her grandkids or romancing her husband, Robert. The mother of three amazing, grown men, she looks back and wonders how she ever made it.
Jill & Tammy’s Chicken Cacciatore
Get the recipe here.
The Playlist
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Also by Gina A. Jones
His Secret book 1
Her Secret book 2
Secret Enemy book 3
The Secret Series (the complete trilogy)
His Secret
Her Secret
Secret Enemy
Love, Michael
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 38