To the Moon and Back Read online

  The guy was clearly caught up in his own world. He took a blue ribbon from the pocket of his jeans and tied it around the rolled-up paper. Then he slipped it into the fence. Ashley narrowed her eyes. Who was the letter for? And how was the man connected to the bombing?

  Something about him looked familiar, but Ashley didn’t think she’d ever really seen him before. Maybe just that he resembled Landon. The guy turned and caught her staring. She managed a weak smile and a quick nod before she focused her attention again on the fence. In her peripheral vision she saw the man shove his hands deep into his navy blue sweatshirt pockets and walk the other direction. He definitely didn’t want to talk to a stranger.

  Ashley watched him go. What’s his story, God? He looks so hurt. The man seemed isolated and distant. Like whatever his connection to the bombing site it was deeply personal. Maybe even devastating. She stared at the white paper and the blue ribbon. Why was the man here today? Ashley wished she could’ve asked him. But more than that she wanted to know something else.

  What was in the note?

  5

  S omehow, Amy felt closer to her family here at the memorial site. As they met up with Aunt Ashley and headed toward the field of empty chairs, she breathed in the quiet air. Maybe it was the other people who had come here today. Some of them were probably tourists.

  But she had a feeling lots of them were survivors like her.

  Long ago when she was little, her mother had read her a story about an ugly duckling. The little duckling was different from his siblings. Everywhere they went, he felt set apart. He imagined the other ducks whispering about him, feeling sorry for him.

  Then one day the ugly duckling came upon a family of swans. And suddenly he realized he wasn’t different or ugly after all! He was a swan.

  That’s how Amy felt today. Her aunt and uncle loved her as much as they loved their own kids. Amy knew that. Her cousins treated her like she was a sibling. No one was mean to her and she’d never seen them whispering about her.

  But they felt sorry for her. Of course they did. Her entire family was dead. Amy understood that, and she was thankful for her home and the way she had been accepted and loved by her aunt and uncle. Still, no matter how much they cared for her, no matter how much they still hurt over their own losses, none of them could ever really understand how it felt to have your whole family die.

  Here, though, it was different. At the memorial—especially on the anniversary of the bombing—there had to be at least some people walking around who knew what it was like to be so young and to lose a parent in a sudden moment. Amy was sure of it. They were here because they were still healing. Here because they wanted to remember the person they’d lost.

  Amy and the rest of them reached the chairs, and quietly they walked the rows. That was Amy’s idea. Because each person should be remembered in some special way, she told the others. They didn’t stop and read every name, but they paid their respects.

  That’s what Aunt Ashley called it.

  Amy could picture her parents walking these very rows, noticing each of these exact chairs. Of course they had. Her mom had loved visiting here, she definitely would have taken time to see the chairs.

  They were almost done. Today’s time would end in the museum, where they would read about the events of that April 19.

  Amy wished she could meet everyone here who was just like her. The family of swans. The survivors. People still stuck somewhere between 9:01 and 9:03 that Wednesday morning. But since that couldn’t happen, she let herself believe that everyone she could see, everyone they passed by knew her pain. She smiled at a few of them and nodded at others.

  Her aunts and uncles and cousins were her family and she loved them with all her heart.

  But these were her people.

  • • •

  THE GUY KEPT returning to the fence. Checking on the letter. Looking one way and then the other, like he was waiting for someone. Ashley noticed him the whole time they visited the chairs and afterward as they left for the museum.

  Amy was doing well. She hadn’t brought up the sapling again, and she seemed at peace having spent time here. But through it all, Ashley kept an eye on the fence. Whoever the guy was waiting for, the person apparently hadn’t shown up.

  As they neared the museum, Ashley watched the man leave the fence again. He seemed on a mission now. He actually passed by them, apparently unaware of Ashley’s surveillance. Only Kari noticed. “Who was that?”

  “Who?” Ashley blinked and turned to her sister.

  “The guy.” Kari laughed quietly. “Ash . . . you’ve been staring at him for ten minutes. He was standing by the fence, right?”

  “He was.” Ashley drew a quick breath. “I don’t know. There’s just . . . something about him.”

  “Yeah.” Kari raised her brow. The two of them were walking a few feet behind the kids. “Every girl here today noticed something about him.”

  “It isn’t that.” Ashley felt embarrassed. “Come on. You know me better.” Ashley watched as the guy entered the building. “He looks like Landon. Maybe that’s it.”

  “Yeah.” Kari nodded. She seemed content with that explanation. “He kind of does. I can see that.”

  “Plus, did you see the pain on his face? The guy’s hurting for sure.” Ashley pointed back at the fence. “He left something. A note. Tucked into the fence.” She turned to her sister again. “I saw him leave it. When you were in the restroom.”

  “Got it.” Kari’s tone grew more serious. “You think he lost someone here?”

  Ashley paused. “Absolutely. I wanted to say something. Offer to pray for him.” She shrugged. “He just looked so . . . like he needed help.”

  They reached the museum and walked up the steps to the double glass doors. “You didn’t say anything, right?”

  “Definitely not.” Ashley scanned the building as soon as they stepped inside. She didn’t see the guy anywhere. “He looked like he wanted to be left alone.”

  “Mmm.” Kari appeared to understand. “Probably a lot of people like him here today.”

  “Probably.”

  They moved from one exhibit to another. Amy had done much of the research about the bombing, but the rest of them had not. Kari and Ashley were old enough to remember it, of course. But details of that day were hazy. So they read every display.

  Ashley was trying to pay attention. She was. This truly interested her. It was a part of history, after all. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the letter back in the fence. If the person never came, if he or she never found it, then what would happen to it? What if no one ever read it? The staff would collect it and throw it in storage and the message would be lost forever.

  Which would be another kind of tragedy.

  The letter could be written to someone who had died here. In which case it was never actually meant to be read. But then why had the guy kept searching, looking one way and then the other? He must’ve been waiting for someone. A living person.

  Finally she tapped Kari on the shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

  “What?” Kari walked with her a distance from the kids. She seemed slightly alarmed. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for that guy again?”

  “No!” Ashley gave a hurried shake of her head. “Of course not. He’s gone, anyway. I saw him leave.”

  “Ashley.” Kari studied her. “You’re freaking me out a little here. He’s a stranger.”

  “I know. But what if he needs help?” Ashley kept her voice low. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the fence.” She was already moving toward the exit. “I won’t be more than a few minutes.”

  “What am I supposed to tell the kids?” Kari looked exasperated. She folded her arms in front of her. “This is crazy, Ash.”

  “Tell them I’ll be right back.” She blew Kari a kiss, turned and opened the door. Before she stepped outside she looked back. Amy and Cole and Jessie were co
mpletely caught up in a lengthy survivor account posted on the far wall. They’d never know she was gone.

  Out in the sunshine again, Ashley flew down the steps. She jogged toward the fence as fast as she could without drawing attention. The mood was still somber, reflective. Calm. She couldn’t break into an all-out sprint. But she didn’t want to leave without at least looking at the letter.

  The urgency that filled her heart reminded her of other times in her life when she couldn’t walk away from someone else’s heartache. Like years ago when she worked at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home. She spent her off-hours studying the elderly residents. Learning their stories so she could find reasons for their behavior. One Alzheimer’s patient at the home screamed when she used the bathroom. Every single time. Ashley’s research showed that six decades earlier the woman had been a beauty queen. No wonder the mirror terrified her. Ashley’s investigation paid off. She put a sheet over the mirror and the woman never screamed again.

  Now her feet moved a little faster. Maybe it was her creative nature, or the fact that she was drawn to hurting people. Either way she couldn’t stop herself.

  After having watched the guy return to the exact spot along the fence, Ashley knew right where to go. The rolled-up scroll with the blue ribbon was next to a big red heart. Ashley stopped right in front of it and stared, breathless. There were two words written across the front in blue ink. The writing was too faint to see from far away. But from here Ashley could make out the message clearly.

  For Jenna

  That was all. Just “For Jenna.” As if whoever Jenna was, if she came here today she would know the note was for her and she would take it from the fence without hesitation. Ashley blinked a few times. Or maybe not. Maybe Jenna was the guy’s family member. Someone he had lost in the bombing. The note might just be his form of therapy. Maybe he did this every year. Wrote a letter to the person he’d lost so that somehow this Jenna would know from heaven how much the mysterious, hurting guy still missed her.

  Ashley tapped her foot.

  What if the guy came back? He might be watching her now, wondering why she’d been stalking him, waiting to prevent Ashley from touching the note. She looked to the right for a long while and then to the left. The man wasn’t anywhere near the fence.

  She must be losing her mind.

  Of course the man wasn’t here. Ashley had seen him leave. She spun around and searched the grounds. No, he definitely wasn’t here. But what about Jenna? If she was alive, then there was still a chance she’d come by today. A chance she could be walking by this very spot even now, looking for her letter.

  Be discreet, Ashley, she told herself. Don’t look like a crazy person . She studied the people on either side of her. There were no single women of any age. No one moving along the fence searching for a letter. At least it didn’t look that way.

  No one seemed to notice Ashley.

  She really should leave. The letter was for Jenna. That’s all she needed to know. It was the reason she’d come back to the fence. Just so she’d know. Ashley stared at the scroll again. Wrong. Be honest with yourself, Ash. You came back to read it.

  Fine. Ashley took a deep breath. Her heartbeat picked up speed. If she was going to do this she needed to get it over with. Fast. Before someone accused her of stealing notes from the memorial fence.

  Which would almost certainly be a crime of some sort.

  With shaking fingers she removed the letter from the fence and untied the ribbon that held the scroll in place. Then she unrolled it and there, inside, was a full-on letter. Ashley held her breath. She had gone too far to stop herself. She let her eyes race to the top of the page and she began to read.

  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—

  “Excuse me.” A woman tapped her on the shoulder.

  Ashley gasped. She dropped the letter and the ribbon and then immediately bent to pick them up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t . . .” This was it. They were going to arrest her right here and then Kari and the kids would come out in time to see her handcuffed and hauled away and—

  “Oh, my.” The woman took a step back. “Sorry. I . . . didn’t mean to startle you.” She looked around. “I was hoping you might know where the restrooms are.”

  Only then did Ashley realize that the person talking to her wasn’t alone. There were others in her group and all of them seemed to be waiting for Ashley’s reply.

  “Oh. Right.” Ashley grabbed a breath. “They’re . . . back at the building. Where the museum is.”

  The woman nodded. “Sorry again.” She pointed to the note. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “It’s fine.” Ashley forced a light laugh. “I just . . . I didn’t see you walk up.” She was rambling now. Already the group was turning away, toward the museum. Ashley waved and then looked back at the paper. Her breathing was fast and jagged. She had no idea if it was a crime to take a letter off the fence and read it. But she needed to get back to Kari and the others.

  No way could she stand here and read the whole thing. She skimmed over it and then an idea hit her. Holding the paper in one hand, she pulled out her phone and tapped her camera app. Carefully she opened the note enough so she could see all the words.

  Then she took a picture.

  If reading other people’s letters was a crime, surely taking photos of them must be, too. Ashley didn’t know. But she had to get out of here. She rolled up the paper, tied it with the blue ribbon and slipped it into the fence again.

  She positioned it so the words were clear once more. For Jenna.

  Then she took another picture.

  Without hesitating she returned to the museum as fast as she could. Kari and the kids were only a few exhibits down from where they’d been when she left. Cole spotted her as she walked up.

  “Mom, where were you?” He didn’t look worried. But clearly he wanted an answer.

  “Hi.” Ashley smiled. Her heart was still racing, shooting adrenaline through her veins. “I . . . uh, I wanted to see something at the fence. I didn’t get a good look before.”

  Cole hesitated, but only for a couple seconds. “Okay.” He took her hand and led her toward the wall where Kari and Jessie and Amy were still reading. “You have to see this. You won’t believe how God saved this one guy.”

  Not until Ashley reached the exhibit and Cole had resumed his place between Amy and Jessie did Kari finally notice she was back. Her sister turned and looked at her. Then she mouthed, “Did you steal it?”

  “Of course not.” Ashley straightened her jacket and focused her attention on the display. “Cole . . . you mean this one?” She could feel Kari watching her.

  “Yes.” Cole and his cousins were already on to the next display. “You’ve gotta read the whole thing.”

  Ashley fought the guilt rising inside her. She would tell Kari later about what had happened, how she’d thought she was going to be arrested and how she’d taken a picture of the letter. She and Kari could read it together. Ashley tried to focus on the exhibit, but she couldn’t. Her heart was still pounding.

  Maybe God wanted her to see the man today. Or maybe not. Sure, the timing could’ve been a coincidence. But what if the Lord had lined up the two of them so that Ashley would be intrigued? So she’d come back and take a picture of the letter and maybe even help the guy somehow?

  It was possible, right?

  Whatever the reason Ashley couldn’t forget him. Not because he was attractive. But because of the hurt on his face. There was something familiar about him. Beyond the fact that he looked like Landon.

  Stop, Ashley . This was ridiculous. She would put the whole thing out of her mind. He was a stranger. What could she possibly do to help? She moved on to join the others. Put it out of your head, she told herself. Enough.

  On the way out of the museum, Amy led them to a patio with chalk drawings. A man w
ho worked there stood nearby, supervising. Beside him, on a small table, was a bucket of chalk. Amy looked from Kari to Ashley. “So many kids were killed that day, they decided to make this chalk yard, with squares for drawing and writing. That way children and parents . . . whoever wants, can leave something behind.”

  The patio was a good distraction. Ashley watched as Amy sorted through the chalk. This was why they were here. For Amy. And if this was the last thing she wanted to do before they left the memorial, then they would all take part.

  Ashley studied the childish illustrations and simple words written across the concrete. There were still many open squares. Each of the kids took chalk from the bucket. Then she and Kari followed suit. As they walked together, Kari whispered, “Ashley. What did you do?” She shot her a doubtful look. “You have to tell me.”

  “Later.” Ashley sounded urgent. Friendly, but urgent. She didn’t want the kids hearing them. She returned the whisper. “Everything’s fine.”

  They spent another ten minutes on the chalk yard. Amy drew the Survivor Tree. Beside it she wrote, Dear God, help me be like this tree. Amen.

  Ashley studied Amy’s artwork. “It’s beautiful.” She put her hand on her niece’s shoulder and worked to control her emotions. What had she been thinking? Concerned with a stranger? This day was about Amy, not helping some guy she didn’t know.

  “I really liked the story about my mom. How she loved trees.” A softness filled Amy’s eyes. More peace than pain. “Today was perfect.” She smiled. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  Ashley worked to keep her emotions in check. “I’m glad we came.”

  “Are you gonna draw something?” Amy laughed. “You almost have to. Professional artist and all.”

  Ashley breathed deep and steadied herself. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She stared at a blank square. How would it feel to be Amy today? Or the dark-haired young man? Or all the others who had suffered such loss?

  And what about Jenna? Whoever she was.

  Ashley bent down and began to write. Beauty from ashes. Please, God. The words came easily. When her letters looked swirly and artsy, she surrounded them with a wreath of springtime flowers.