“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.” Shannon L. Alder
Homicide Detective Ed “Jigger” Epstein refused to watch as the third tiny body was wheeled out of the house by someone from the coroner's office. An attractive man in his mid forties, with a remote, careworn face, and whose body language bespoke his exhaustion, he was managing, just, to keep his emotions under tight control. Every murder scene was difficult and after nearly twenty-five years on the force he knew how to compartmentalize his thoughts and feelings. But when kids were involved...
He had been on scene all night where a thirty-year-old man had decided to repay his estranged wife by tying her up and murdering their young kids in front of her before taking his own life. She had long since been transported, catatonic, to the local hospital. He knew they wouldn't be getting any statement from her for a long while.
The sun was just rising with the promise of another beautiful day in the heartland. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was about time that his long time, live in girlfriend, Marilyn, would be having breakfast before her shift as a paramedic for the county rescue squad, and took out his phone to call her. He was interrupted before he could dial by his partner, Roy.
“Hey, Jiggs, you need to come look at this.”
With a sigh, he returned his phone to his pocket.
Hours later Ed was sitting at his desk, hit and pecking his report, when a burst of laughter made him look up in time to see a uniformed cop walk in carrying a dozen roses and set them on Roy's desk.
“Happy Valentines from your missus,” she grinned before walking back out.
“Damn, Roy!” another detective called out, “Did you send her anything first?”
Roy glanced ruefully at Ed as he took the card from the bouquet, a smile crossing his face as he read it. Married nearly ten years and they still behaved like sweethearts. For twice divorced Ed, that was nearly incomprehensible.
But then he thought of Marilyn and realized he had never got around to getting her anything for Valentine's Day. Well, except for the card still residing over the visor in his car. With a sigh he wiped his fingers across his forehead as he considered what to do. There was no doubt that he loved her and he had planned to take her out for a fancy dinner and a night of dancing. Maybe this weekend. For now, however, he needed something else to give her. Something special.
By lunch time Ed had finished for the day and was on his way home when he drove by an antiques store that he passed every day, but this time, drawn somehow, he turned around and went back. Inside he found cluttered rooms full of junk and treasures and slowly made his way around the shelves and displays, not certain what it was he was looking for.
“Can I help you find something?”
An elderly woman stood behind him, smiling, when he turned with a slightly baffled expression on his face.
“I'm not sure,” he admitted, “I'm looking for something for my lady, for Valentine's.”
The woman's smiled broadened sympathetically.
“I'm sure I can help you with that. Tell me, does she like jewelry?”
Ed considered for a moment then shrugged, “I suppose. She doesn't wear a lot of it, though, because of her job.”
She nodded then tilted her head inquiringly.
“Okay. How about you tell me a little about her. Maybe that will help me get an idea of what I can offer.”
“Well, she's thirty-seven and a war veteran. She's never married and doesn't have any kids. She loves animals, she's from Kentucky and she enjoys basketball.”
The old woman chuckled and nodded her head.
“That's a start. But how about now you tell me how you really feel about her.”
He grimaced and started to tell her it was none of her business, but then reconsidered. If it would help his cause...
“Okay. Hmm, let me see. She's beautiful, not just outside but inside, too. She's warm and she's funny. She's endlessly patient with me and the demands made on me by my job.” He paused, his voice lowering. “She loves me regardless. And with her, I never feel alone.”
“Do you love her?”
He nodded, “Yes.”
“Have you ever told her?”
He shook his head guiltily. “No. No, I haven't.”
The old woman was silent for a moment before asking gently, “What is it that you want of her?”
Ed felt pressure building within him but couldn't seem to walk away from the personal questions.
“Do you want a lifetime with her?” the woman persisted, “or is this a temporary thing?”
“I don't ever want to let her go,” he finally blurted then glared at his inquisitor, “Does that say enough?”
The woman smiled, “Yes, it does. I think I have just the thing. Come.”
She led him into a back room where she rummaged around on a shelf. She finally withdrew a small bowl and, after wiping the dust from it, handed it to him. Its earthy green color was bisected by striations of various other hues of green. Embossed in the middle was a claddagh. Around the edge were the words, “Grow old along with me.”
“This is made of fine Connemara marble and the claddagh there in the center is an old Irish symbol of love, loyalty, and friendship.”
Ed felt a sense of rightness as he looked the bowl over, finding no chips, cracks or other flaws.
“Her last name is O'Hanrahan,” he murmured then looked up with a smile, “This is perfect.”
The old woman beamed, then, after taking the bowl from him, led the way to the front of the store and the ancient cash register. There she accepted his payment then carefully wrapped the bowl in tissue, placed it inside a white box, and sealed it with a gold foil sticker bearing the store name. After thanking her, he left the store with a smile.
That evening, he picked up dinner from a local Italian restaurant and had it waiting when Marilyn arrived from work. While she freshened up and changed from her uniform to a caftan she liked to wear at home, he lit the candles on either side of a small bouquet of rosebuds, turned down the lights, and waited anxiously for her to reappear.
“Oh, Ed, how lovely!” she exclaimed softly when she saw the table then gave him a hug and a kiss. “This is so sweet of you.”
He smiled as he held her chair while she sat, “I'm glad you like it.”
After plating the dinner he had kept warm in the microwave, they settled in for a quiet dinner. He asked how her day had been. Then, because she already knew about it, she let him talk about his. Holding his hand, she listened as he spoke of his anger, frustration, and sorrow over the loss of the children and what their young mother was now facing. She heard his hopelessness. There was so much more than the loss of life with a child. There were the loss of dreams and promises. An end before life had even begun.
After a while, he grew silent and stared into the candle flames. Finally, he looked up and took her hand in his.
“Someone reminded me today of how lucky I am to have you in my life. Coming home tonight I realized that you are the first person who has ever kept me from feeling alone, especially with my job. You are the one who makes this home. I'm so sorry for having taken you for granted.” Handing her the box that had been sitting beside him, he smiled. “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”
Accepting the box with a soft smile, she carefully opened it and withdrew the bowl. Her eyes filled as she saw the claddagh then read the inscription before lifting them back to his.
“Will you grow old with me?” he asked quietly, his heart pounding. “I know I don't have the best track record when it comes to marriage but, honestly, I've never felt this way before. I thought I knew what love was. Now I know I knew nothing about it, before I met you. Will you marry me, Marilyn?”
Tears fell as she nodded, “Oh, god, yes! Yes, Ed, of course, I'll marry you!”
Rounding the table, he drew her up into a tight hug then kissed her deeply and soundly before hugging her again. The day so darkly begun was ending with a glow.
A young widow joins her aunt’s house-restoration project in the wilderness, determined to take a stand for independence, but two men have different plans for her—and so does God.
Homicide Detective Ed “Jigger” Epstein refused to watch as the third tiny body was wheeled out of the house by someone from the coroner's office. An attractive man in his mid forties, with a remote, careworn face, and whose body language bespoke his exhaustion, he was managing, just, to keep his emotions under tight control. Every murder scene was difficult and after nearly twenty-five years on the force he knew how to compartmentalize his thoughts and feelings. But when kids were involved...
