To the Moon and Back

By Kathi Kotchi

Fourteen-year-old Jessica Maxwell lives alone with her alcoholic mother after her baby sister, older brother and father died years ago. John Garrett is the lone survivor of a horrific car accident that claimed the lives of his wife and toddler daughter months ago. John is Jessica’s ninth grade teacher and one day, early in the school year, noticing her declining grades, he reaches out as a mentor. After initially declining she eventually accepts, and soon finds his house is the only place she finds security and peace. After several months, John calls social service, concerned over Jessie’s mother’s obvious neglect. Jessica’s home situation improves, but then the unthinkable happens and John pursues custody of Jessie. But will he get it?
This is a powerful and moving story of living with grief and neglect, of survival, of acceptance, of the power of friendship and love between two very different people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Jun 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662934445

Book preview

Prologue

June, four years earlier

The sun was shining on the clear ocean, nearly blinding the crowd that stood on the shore. Boats raced on the water, thrilling the spectators, the noise filling the air. It was mid-June. High, puffy clouds dotted the crystal-blue sky above, and the humidity had decreased overnight after several scorching days.

Jessie stood next to her brother, watching the boat race unfold in front of her. She took off the baseball cap from her head, readjusted her ponytail, and put the cap back on. She grabbed her brother’s arm and jumped up and down excitedly.

Look at that one, Hugh, it’s gonna win. It’s gonna win!

She was rewarded with a smile and an arm around her shoulder. Yes, Jess, it looks like your favorite boat is going to win. He pulled on her ponytail, slightly hard, but still playful.

Jessie didn’t care. Hugh was fourteen, older than her by four years and three months. She was only nine years old, soon to turn ten next month, and she adored him. He was her hero. Well, second to her father. He was on the baseball and football teams, plus track, and had a small part in his school’s play the previous October. He even tolerated her hanging around him, which elevated his status as a decent brother a notch or two.

This vacation is going really well.

Yeah, it is, he agreed.

Mom seems to be pretty good these days. Maybe this is what she needed.

Maybe it is, Jessie. I hope so. He surprised her by looping an arm around her neck, giving her a sideways hug. I hope so. We could use a good stretch from her.

Several minutes passed in silence as she thought about the truth of his statement. Her mom had been in a good place for the past few weeks, the dark clouds in her life receding. Her parents were fighting less, and Jessie and Hugh both hoped this stretch would last longer than the previous calm period.

The sun beating down on her made her thirsty, and she decided to get a soda. She scanned the area to her right, far away where the food and drink booths were lined up.

I see Mom and Dad up near the food area. I want a soda. Can I get you something?

Anything. I’m not picky.

She felt him pull her ponytail as she walked away. It took her several minutes to wade through the crowd and up the hill to where her parents were standing, watching the race.

I want a soda, and Hugh said he also wants one. I’m hungry too. Can I get something to eat?

Her dad smiled down at her and lovingly touched her shoulder. Sure, peanut.

Can you get Hugh a hot dog too? I bet he wants one like I do. I bet he can eat two.

Her father laughed as he led the way to the food stand that sold burgers and hotdogs. Her mother was relaxed and smiling as she stood with them. They had just placed their order when a sickening thud rent the air behind them.

They turned to see two boats in the air. They hit the water, back end first, and went spinning. The boat on the left went airborne, away from the shore. The boat on the right hit the water on its bottom and rose in the air again, heading for the shore. People started screaming, scattering in all directions.

Jessie was frozen in place, not quite understanding the scene unfolding in front of her. She felt her shoulder suddenly gripped fiercely, heard her mother gasp behind her then begin to scream. The boat was an uncontrolled missile as it rocketed toward the crowd. Jessie scanned the running people, trying to find Hugh. She thought she saw him, in his bright blue shirt, running toward the hill.

The boat smashed into the crowd, screeching to a stop forever later.

Right where Hugh had been.

* * *

August, one year later

Edwin Maxwell stood by the window, gazing with almost unseeing eyes at the grassy plain below him. At five floors up, he was afforded a beautiful view of the sprawling hills around the office complex in suburbia where he worked. It wasn’t too far from where he lived in Havertown—ten minutes away, fifteen tops on a bad day. He could see the cars and trucks zipping by in the distance, and he wondered where they rushed to and fro.

He was the materials director for Granite Run Hospital, and he generally enjoyed his job. But over the last few months, the joy had ebbed more than slightly, and he vaguely wondered if it was time to look for new employment. Maybe get a computer job where he could work at home. The idea was quickly dismissed. He was happy to get out of the house these days. Patricia was making life more difficult with every passing day. He was nearing the end of his rope. He only stayed because of Jessie. She made everything perfect. God, the girl would light up his heart just walking into the room.

Ed moved to his desk, sat at his computer, and opened his e-mail file with a heavy sigh. A dozen new messages, none of them terribly important. He felt his heart clench when he saw one regarding the surprise baby shower for Karen Johnson that was being held in the conference room in a week. All were welcome. He opened his top drawer, rummaged, and found what he was looking for. He took out the frame and stared at the picture in it.

Sarah had been three months in the picture, grinning toothlessly, soft brown curls framing her chubby face. He wondered what life would be like if Sarah had lived. How tall would she be? Would she have looked like Hugh or Jessie? Or both? Or neither? Would she play the piano or take ballet? Maybe both. She would have been six years old soon, born on October 2.

He put the picture of Sarah on his desk, next to the picture of Jessie. Every so often he did that, but just for a few hours. He couldn’t do that with the picture of Hugh yet. He took that photo from the desk drawer and gazed at it, tears blurring his vision. He thought Sarah’s death had been difficult, but losing Hugh had been pain beyond comprehensive. Fourteen months later and the heartache was still as deep as it had been on the first day. He thought it would have eased a bit, but it was not the case. It killed him to go to bed every night, to see the empty room across the hall. And it killed him to get up every day and go on with life. He did it just for Jessie. She had just turned eleven and still needed him. Her pretty face flashed into his mind, and he smiled for the first time all day.

He put the picture back in the drawer and stood, hoping for the third time today the heartburn that had bothered him all morning would abate soon. He searched his top drawer for TUMS but found none. Damn. He would have to stop at CVS on his way home. He tried water, but that didn’t help. He rounded his desk and headed to the door. Maggie, his ever-efficient secretary, was sure to have something in her purse. It weighed ten pounds and held everything.

A searing pain stopped his progress, and he gripped a chair that was in front of his desk. It was centered in his chest and prevented him from moving. It traveled up his neck and shot down his left arm. It burned like fire and took his breath away. He tried to call for help but couldn’t speak. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, expanding. His world began to darken. Grief overcame him as realization dawned that he would not live to see the remainder of the hour.

Oh, Jessie, he thought, I’m so sorry … so sorry …

* * *

June, three years later

John Garrett lifted the cooler with one hand, grabbed the suitcase with the other, jammed Pam’s bottle of water in the crook of his arm, and headed to the car parked in the driveway. Suitcases filled the trunk, as well as two backpacks for hiking. His was made for carrying toddlers. A diaper bag was in the back seat next to the car seat. He put the cooler behind his seat on the floor. He heard the door open and close and turned to see Pam carrying Melissa on her hip. He smiled at both of them, reaching silently for his daughter. She pitched herself forward into his hands, all smiles, as if it had been more than two minutes since she had last seen him. He nuzzled her soft neck, held her up as she giggled in delight. He blew bubbles into her belly and smiled as she dissolved into another fit of laughter. He handed her back to Pam after a second kiss on her neck.

Let me switch cars around, then I’ll do one last sweep of the house. Is there anything you can think of?

I don’t think so, John. I think we covered all bases. Cash in my wallet, we have food for Melissa, and we can buy more diapers at a store in the mountains. Oh, I forgot your water bottle by the front door. I meant to get it.

Go tell Harry and Bess we’re leaving while I do the last-minute things.

Ten minutes later, they were all in the car, headed toward the Blue Route, on the way to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, final destination Split Rock in the Poconos. Celine Dion purred from the radio, but the real entertainment came from the back seat as Melissa talked to herself, spilling vowels, bubbles, and the occasional half-words that made sense. John smiled at Pam, then eased his car onto the Blue Route.

Ju-ju … came from the back seat.

Pam reached for the small diaper bag on the floor in front of her. Looks like she wants some juice. She offered the sippy cup with a smile.

Ookie.

Pam was bent back over the diaper bag again. She certainly has her mind set on spoiling lunch already.

Smart girl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pam turn to hand Melissa the animal cracker in her hand. But she stopped, her arm frozen in place. Oh god, John—

He whipped his eyes to the rearview mirror to see what was making Pam panic and saw the truck in his mirror. Only the grill was visible, and John’s heart began to race. He pushed the gas pedal, but it was too late. The truck hit them on the right rear bumper, pushing the car forward, toward the median. There was a break for emergency vehicles, and John shot through it, unable to steer the car toward the metal guardrail fast enough. They ended up in the southbound lane, facing the concrete barrier that soundproofed the neighborhood behind it. There was nowhere to go. John turned to his right, trying to see if the traffic had stopped so he could turn around and get out of the line of fire. He saw the eighteen-wheeler barreling toward them from around a bend in the road, heard the squeal of tires as the driver frantically tried to stop.

Oh god, Pam said, fear lacing her voice.

Panic blinded him as he desperately tried to move the gear shift into reverse. But it was stuck. He pulled and pulled to no avail.

Jesus, God, no …

He heard Pam gasp, heard Melissa sobbing behind him, then the impact of metal against metal.

And his world went black.

Chapter 1

Afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows as Jessica Maxwell attempted to finish the final equations on the test paper in front of her. Fifteen were done, five to go. Thirty other teenagers were bent over their desks, pencils furiously scrawling calculations, pounding on calculators, trying to beat the test deadline that loomed in two minutes. She peered beside her briefly to see how her neighbor was faring and then quietly chastised herself for the maneuver as she saw that he was farther than she was.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her teacher, Mr. John Garrett, slowly proceed up the aisle to her right. He paused when he arrived at her desk, studying her paper longer than the others before her. He pointed to an equation at the top of the page. She took the hint and reviewed the problem, finding the mistake. She fixed it just as he gave a thirty-second warning.

Time’s up, he called in what appeared to Jessie to be only mere seconds later.

Sighs of relief and groans of frustration crossed the room. Pencils clattered to the desks, backpacks filled and gathered, and the mass exodus began to the front door after the final bell rang. A queue quickly formed then dispersed as fellow students handed in their test papers. Jessie was nearly the last person in the line, but she was only able to walk a few feet before she heard her name being called. She turned back, bumping into the person behind her. Head bent, she mumbled an apology. A grunt was the only acknowledgment that the offended gave her. Her teacher stood by the desk that was strategically placed in the center front of the room.

John Garrett was about six feet tall, with dark-brown hair, almost black, parted on his left. His eyes were blue and slightly deep set. His features were good-looking, and Jessie thought he was almost cute when he smiled. He had a slim build, but his arm muscles were defined under his shirt. He wore a maroon dress shirt, black pants, a red-and-blue-striped tie, and black shoes. He was reviewing the papers in his hand, and Jessie surmised that hers was on top.

Your test has a lot of empty spaces.

She looked down at the floor and spoke without raising her head. I wasn’t able to study as much as usual. She glanced up but quickly averted her eyes. Can I go now? My bus comes in ten minutes.

I told you Friday about the test. Didn’t you study over the weekend?

Yeah, as much as I could.

You know, Jessica, you’re in an accelerated math program. You should be able to do this work.

She stood silently, not sure whether she should even respond.

Is there anything wrong? Are you having difficulty understanding the material?

No.

Because if you are, I can provide tutoring after class.

I’m not.

Sometimes when grades fall, it is a sign that there is stress somewhere.

I’m okay.

Is home okay?

At this, Jessica raised her head and quickly denied any problem. Everything is fine.

Jessie felt the heat of his regard for the moment of silence that passed in the room.

Do you need some tutoring? he asked. I’ve helped other classmates this year.

I’m okay, she repeated. Can I go now? I need to catch my bus.

Go ’head, he said, and Jessie heard the flat tone in his voice.

She wondered briefly if he saw through her deception. She quickly turned and fled down the hall, not waiting for any further questions to be directed at her. She heard his command to study just before she turned up the stairwell that took her to her locker on the second floor.

Leaves on the trees were just starting to change color, but the temperature was near normal for the mid-October date. Jessica Maxwell walked slowly down Rodmor Road, passing the familiar redbrick single-family homes and the occasional tree. She walked alone, not joining in the laughter of the group of kids who walked a short distance ahead of her.

She came to her house and turned up the path. For the first time in months, she noticed how cracked the pavement had become. The path led up to the front door, with another one leading from the front door horizontally along the front of the house to the driveway on her left. There were two windows each in the dining room and living room, and they flanked the front door. Identical faded-blue curtains adorned the four windows. The storm door was old; dings and scuff marks scattered haphazardly throughout; and the rip in the screen had been present for years. The latch worked when it wanted to, but she liked its rattle for some odd reason. The brown fiberglass door was the only bright spot in the front of the house, the glass inlay design showing some pale pink flower design. It was about six years old, and Jessie still liked looking at it. The neighborhood around her was working middle to upper class, and somewhere along the way, the Maxwell household had started falling behind with no way to catch up.

Jessie let herself in her front door and was greeted by the familiar emptiness and silence. A spasm of loneliness washed over her when she realized Hugh was not going to come bounding down the stairs, on his way out the door to football practice, punching her in the arm as he breezed through the door. She wondered when the pain would go away. Four years and her heart still hurt nearly every day.

The dining room was to her left, with a table and four chairs around it. On the far wall was a china cabinet filled with the usual assortment of plates, bowls, and glasses. Nothing was ever used, and it had become a huge dust collector over the years. The large front windows brought in the afternoon sunlight, which warmed the house on cold winter days.

The kitchen was beyond the dining room. There was a small table just to the left of the opening a counter with a sink under a window across the room. The back door was to the left of the table, which was currently piled with mail and other junk her mother needed to go through. To the right of the counter was a white refrigerator. Across from the fridge was the basement door. The kitchen was small, but Jessie liked it. The window looked out to the back of the driveway and tall, looming trees. There was a small porch that she could see just outside the window. That, too, had been unused in the last four years.

The downstairs was completed with a moderate-sized living room on the other side of the stairwell. It contained a sofa against the far wall, which was flanked by two old end tables and lamps. A love seat was across from the sofa, and a medium-sized TV sat on an entertainment center on the wall between the furniture. The TV was about six years old, almost ancient in the recent technology boom. A rectangular table with an old-fashioned lamp was in front of the living room windows. The curtains were older but pretty. A closet was at the far end of the love seat.

She walked through the dining room and saw the glasses from breakfast this morning still on the table. In the kitchen, more dishes filled the sink, and Jessie heaved a sigh of sadness. Her mother was working second shift again, but at least she could have washed the dishes. More and more of late, everything was being left to Jessie to do. It took her a few minutes to clean them, and she placed them on paper towels to dry as there were no clean towels in the drawer. Jessie was hungry, and she opened the refrigerator but saw no new food. She poured herself a glass of milk and took a couple of cookies from the jar on the counter. She wondered when she would see her mother and then quickly changed her train of thought as she felt tears sting her eyes. Tears didn’t help the situation, and she wiped them quickly away.

Jessie went upstairs to her room, resisting the urge to go into Hugh’s room. The upstairs had a long hallway with two bedrooms on each side, with a hall bathroom at the end. Her room and her parents’ were across from each other, Hugh’s was next to hers, and Sarah’s old bedroom was across from Hugh’s.

She sat on her bed suddenly feeling the pain of his loss stronger than she had in a long time, and this time her tears could not be stopped. Overwhelming loneliness filled her, and she mourned his absence once again, the hundredth time this day alone. She wondered how her life would be if at least he were alive. He would have protected her, somehow kept all this mess from happening. At least that’s what she thought now.

Jessica Maxwell was alone right now, more alone than any fourteen-year-old should be. Now Mr. Garrett was asking questions she really wasn’t prepared to answer. The last thing she needed was a teacher’s involvement in her life right now. Tears formed again as her thoughts turned to Hugh, and she lost herself in quiet weeping.

Chapter 2

The noise had reached ear-splitting levels in the gymnasium. Over three thousand students were gathered to cheer on the upcoming football team against their archrival, Marple High School. The game was this weekend, and a host of activities were scheduled all week. The cheerleading squad was doing their thing on the gym floor, and hoots and hollers were forthcoming from the student body.

Jessie sat in the bleachers about halfway up, her head bent over her math book. She had no interest in the festivities around her. Cheering for the football team was painful for her. Hugh had been a member when he attended, and his jersey hung on display in a case in the main lobby of the hall. The first time she saw it this year, she cried until a teacher she didn’t know came up to her and offered condolences. She put every effort into avoiding that part of the building ever since.

A noise above her caught her attention. Angry voices could be heard above the din from the cheerleaders and football players. They grew louder, more intense, and a minute later, a murmuring hush spread through the students. Jessie turned with everyone else to stare at the commotion, and she saw teachers running up the middle of the bleachers, attempting to stop the fight that was clearly escalating.

Without warning, punches were thrown, bodies shoved, and kids began to holler again. A second later, Jessie sat frozen as she watched the student body above her move en masse downward. She stood along with everyone else around her to try to escape, but she was soon caught up in the rush of people as they headed to the floor. Jessie heard screams all around her as she tumbled into the arms and legs of other people.

Forever passed until motion stopped. She couldn’t breathe well. Someone’s foot was pressed against her back, and an elbow was in her windpipe. More weight from other students pushed down on her, and she fought rising panic. She was buried beneath layers of bodies. She was near the middle of the bleachers, so it could have been worse, she surmised. She heard voices calling out, and twenty or thirty seconds later, she felt the pile on top of her becoming lighter. She began to fight to rise and was drawing a deep breath of wonderful air when she was lifted up by hands on either side of her. She was placed gently down several feet away from the pile. She wobbled as her feet made contact with the ground, and their grip tightened on her arms. A face swam in front of her.

You okay?

She nodded, unable to speak for a few seconds. I … I think so.

She was handed off to another teacher, who walked her to a spot on one of the bleachers across the gym. She saw students filing out to her left and guessed that everyone not involved in the melee was going back to their classrooms. A football player shoved a cup of water in her hand, and she took it gratefully, weakly smiling her thanks. Other students joined her, and they were all a mess, clothes and hair disheveled. Some had blood on their faces, some on their arms. One girl had a rapidly closing black eye. A teacher Jessie didn’t know came by and spent a minute with all of them. He knelt in front of her.

Are you better now?

Yeah.

You have blood on your throat. You need to be examined by a paramedic before you can leave here, so sit tight. Someone will be with you.

She watched as teachers and football players continued to extract kids from the pile. She heard moaning and quiet weeping begin to fill the air. Different groups of kids formed, from those like her to ones who couldn’t stand up. Most appeared shaken, none seriously hurt, and only three were taken out in ambulances. She saw several of her teachers walking to and fro, bending down to students, dispensing drinks and comfort where needed.

An hour later, Jessie was cleared to leave the gym, her blood pressure and breathing assessed to be normal. Her only injury appeared to be a slightly sprained ankle. She found her math book in a pile on a table by the door and grabbed it on her way out, stuffing it into her backpack, which she hadn’t lost in the pileup. It had been previously announced that classes would resume on the regular schedule. If she hurried, she would only be five minutes late for the class.

She saw him a minute later, coming toward her. Mr. Garrett was walking rapidly, a box in his arms. He stopped her just as he was going to pass her.

You’re okay, Jessica?

I’m fine.

You have a mark on your neck.

Someone’s foot, I think. A paramedic checked me, and I’m okay.

Go on to class. I just have to drop this off, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.

She shifted her backpack on her shoulder more comfortably and continued down the empty hallway.

* * *

A week aged, and by Thursday, Jessie realized that the extra studying she had done had not helped. So she stayed after class and asked for a quick tutoring session in math. It helped slightly as she struggled with the homework assignment for hours that night at home. Her mother was at work, and she had no one to call upon for help in trying to solve the equations. The paper was half blank when she handed it in the following day. Realizing she would fail it, she returned to Mr. Garrett’s classroom after the students had gone home in an effort to retrieve the paper. The room was empty, but his briefcase was still on the floor by his desk.

Jessie sat in the front-row chair by the wall and waited for him to return. In the silence of the room, she could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall and saw in the distance scattered crowds of students as they waited for their buses or drifted slowly toward home. Lulled by the ticking clock, Jessie put her head back against the wall and was almost asleep when her teacher walked into the room a few minutes later. She bolted from the chair and walked toward him as he picked up his briefcase and placed it on top of his desk.

Late night last night, Jess?

She didn’t answer at first, still trying to shake the drowsiness from her mind and get her balance. Yeah, trying to figure out your homework. She stopped several feet away from the desk. Look, Mr. Garrett, I need that homework assignment back. I didn’t finish it. I need more time.

He tossed some papers into the briefcase and shook his head. I don’t know, Jess. The other students have to take the grade they get. It wouldn’t be fair to let you have more time without giving the same option to them.

But I don’t understand it.

Yesterday didn’t help?

It did while I was here, but not once I got home. I forgot it all. I couldn’t remember. Jessie tried a more urgent plea, which was also the truth. Look, I’ll fail if I don’t get another chance.

There were tears in her eyes suddenly, and Jessie desperately hoped that Mr. Garrett did not see them. She looked away quickly, at her feet, willing herself to keep her composure. When she glanced back up, she found him staring at her, and she knew then he had seen her tears.

I’ll make you a deal, he said. I’ll give it back and deduct the late penalty of five points. And because you are the only one who came back for another effort, I’ll give you a bonus equation worth the five points. Get it correct, and it will even out.

Jessie nodded in relief and waited as Mr. Garrett wrote a quick equation on the bottom of her homework sheet and then returned it to her. She placed it in her backpack, mumbled her thanks, and started to walk out of the room. She only went a few steps when she turned back.

I know it’s late, but I … do you think you could go over yesterday’s material again? I need it for the homework.

He complied, and it took almost ten minutes and several sample equations before she was comfortable with knowing how to solve them. She gathered her belongings and headed for the door but was stopped before she could exit the room.

How are you getting home?

I’ll catch a bus across the street. I think they run every twenty minutes or so. One should be coming soon.

Be careful, it’s almost rush hour, the idiot drivers are probably out now.

I’ll be okay, I’ve done it before. She turned and left with a final thanks and proceeded to walk down the empty hall.

She went to her locker, gathered her books for homework in her backpack, and headed toward the exit. A teacher, one from the upper grades whom she didn’t know, smiled at her as she left the building, and she returned it. Stepping outside, she pulled her jacket tighter around her; it was meager protection against the chilly afternoon air. She began the long walk home, walking across the large parking lot. Several cars passed her, and she wished she was with them, out of the cold. She heard one car approach from behind her, and she kept walking but then stopped as the driver pulled alongside her. To her surprise, Mr. Garrett was at the wheel. The window slid down as he looked up at her, squinting at the sun in his eyes.

I thought you were going to catch a bus, Jess.

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out why he had even stopped. I just missed it. I decided to walk home instead. In reality, she did not have the bus fare, but she did not tell him this.

You look cold. I can give you a ride home if you want.

Jessie shook her head and declined the offer. I’ll be okay. It’s only a few miles away.

Where do you live?

She was cautious this time, never one to give out personal information to people she did not know well. In Havertown, off Township Line Road.

Are you sure you don’t want a ride? I could have you home in less than twenty minutes, shorter than it would take you to walk.

I’m fine, really. Thanks anyway. Her voice was distant, distrust in her eyes.

It’s only a ride home, Jessica.

She started to refuse again, but a sudden gust of wind took the words from her. It whipped her hair into disarray, and she tried to find warmth in her thin jacket but could not. She glanced around surreptitiously and found no one in the vicinity looking her way.

Oh, all right, she relented and went around to the passenger side as her teacher unlocked the door. She slid in and ducked down in the seat, knowing the punishment she would receive from her fellow students if she were found in her teacher’s car. Do you know where to go?

I have a general idea. I’ll let you know when I need directions.

Do you live near Havertown?

No, I don’t. I live about six miles in the opposite direction. In Media.

They drove in silence for a moment, and Jessie noticed that the car appeared as if it were brand-new from the dealership. Nice car, she commented. Did you just buy it?

It’s four months old. I bought it in June.

Jessie thought she heard hardness in his voice and looked over to find him staring straight ahead at the road. She wondered if she had imagined the odd note but did not dare ask.

What kind of car is it?

A Hyundai.

Jessie craned her neck slightly to see the outside of the car hood. I like the color. There aren’t too many burgundy cars around. Now farther from school, she finally sat straight up in the front of the car.

Thanks.

They were silent for another few minutes as conversation lagged. Jessie was at a loss for words in the growing silence and was beginning to regret agreeing to the ride home. She was thankful when her teacher began to ask for more specific directions. She gave them but stopped a block from her house, and he smiled at her.

Not willing to be seen with me on your street?

Jessie flushed, embarrassed that he guessed the truth so readily.

No. To tell you the truth, I’d be the laughingstock of the school.

And that would be unacceptable?

Yeah.

Listen, if you still don’t understand the material, I usually get to homeroom a little early. I could help you then.

I should be okay.

The offer still stands.

Thanks for the ride home, Mr. Garrett. I know you went out of your way.

No problem, Jessica. Have a nice weekend.

She exited the car and began the short walk to her house.

* * *

John Garrett

John Garrett watched Jessie shiver against the cold as she strode down the street, backpack hanging halfway down her back. He turned his car toward the main road and was quickly encased firmly in rush-hour traffic. It was always worse on a Friday for a reason he could never fathom. He maneuvered onto Township Line Road and headed back toward Media. He drove carefully, still jumpy from four months ago. He passed the Blue Route exit, and his heart contracted painfully as it did every day. For a minute he wondered when the pain would end. He thought of Pam and Melissa every time he saw it, which was twice a day, unfortunately. He tried to find a route that took him around it, but it was prohibitively long. So he endured the daily reminder and could only hope the pain would subside soon.

Feeling hunger pangs begin, he pulled into a fast-food restaurant for a quick meal on his way home. He ate while he drove, balancing the cheeseburger and fries in his hands, being careful not to spill anything. He soon pulled into his driveway, and as he walked toward his house, he once again noticed the dying flowers in the front gardens. He mentally sighed as he realized it was another project around the house that he was going to have to do, and soon. The list was getting longer, not shorter, and it weighed upon him. He let himself inside the gray vinyl split-level house where he had lived for the last three years. Silence enveloped him, and he sighed again, this time aloud. It was one thing he was not used to yet. Four months since the accident and the silence still gnawed at him in an unnerving way. It would take time, his therapist had repeated over and over again. Well, he certainly had a lot of that on his hands now. He now had to always have the radio or TV on, or he felt as if he was going to fall apart. That, too, would pass, his therapist had told him.

John changed into jeans and sneakers and turned on the radio when he walked into the kitchen. He saw the dishes from last night’s dinner in the sink and resigned himself to putting them in the dishwasher and running it. He should probably get a load of laundry in as well. John thought about getting a dog for company but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t home enough to house-train a puppy. A cat … maybe he would get a cat. Just another living entity to come home to, something he could talk to, even if it did not answer him back except with a purr. Anything would be better than