"What did you just say?" Nathan asked, tilting his head.

Lucas trembled as he offered the Mountie his newfound treasure, his eyes glimmering. "Nathan, she's alive!" he said softly.

Grant took the paper and stared at it with amazement as it rested in his hand. It was a hand-colored photograph of a beautiful woman with dark brown hair seated on a photographer's bench with a little girl in her lap and a young boy beside her. Nathan recognized the children immediately as the ones he had seen the day before, the grandchildren of Lydia Drake. Her pupils had been tinted pale green, and her eyes reflected sadness and determination. Nathan could tell she was a survivor.

He looked at Lucas and raised his eyebrows, a lump growing in his own throat. "This is Jenny?"

Lucas shook his head, smiling through his tears. "She's older. But I would recognize her anywhere. She reminds me of Mother at that age."

"Praise God!" Joseph said.

"Indeed!" Lucas responded. "Nathan. Joseph. My sister is alive. She was here only a few hours ago!"

"And apparently, you're an uncle," Joseph responded.

"Oh, my!" Lucas laughed. "That's right! Jenny has children, a boy, and a girl! I hardly have words!"

A sense of awe swept over the room as the men contemplated the import of what had just been revealed. Twenty-four hours prior, Bouchard had believed the terrible thought he'd believed for decades: that his sister was dead, murdered by those who kidnapped her. And now? Everything had wonderfully changed in an instant. It was like a resurrection.

"We have to find her!" Lucas exclaimed, suddenly rising from the floor. Nathan stood with him and handed him the photo that Lucas tucked into the diary and then into his jacket.

"Are you sure she's really gone? Maybe they just left for a while," Joseph suggested.

Nathan looked around the room. "It looks like they vacated the premises in a hurry. I'd say she's gone."

"Well, she couldn't have gone far," Lucas said. "The oven was still warm when I got here, and there was half-eaten breakfast on the table. We need to go look for them. I can take my car and you and Joseph his truck."

"They don't own a car," Nathan said. "They'll be traveling by wagon."

"Then perhaps a horse?" Lucas asked, not realizing the irony of his statement given just the year prior, he and Nathan had challenged each other to a man-versus-machine race, with Lucas losing, but only due to a technical malfunction with his motorcycle.

"Better to call the Mounties," Nathan said. "We don't know which direction they went, and looking for them on our own would likely be futile."

Lucas nodded. "I saw a pay phone in town."

Nathan shook his head. "We'll need to call out a bigger group than just a few calls can summons. Besides, I need to figure out what to tell them. They haven't broken any laws that I know of, and something clearly spooked them."

"Spooked them?" Lucas asked.

Nathan nodded. "To leave in such a hurry, there had to be a reason. It could have been my visit yesterday."

"Or mine today," Lucas said. "I think I saw them in the General store. There was an older woman with the boy. I know it was him. We…." Lucas's eyes misted again. "We had a near collision as I was entering the store –Nathan, that was my nephew! Jenny's son! I felt it! I saw his mother in his eyes, yet I couldn't…I didn't dare believe…."

Nathan touched Lucas's shoulder. "Well, I say let's get out of here and go find them. Wagons can travel up to twenty miles a day, so I'll contact the Mounties at Bragg's Station, Red Deer, and Mallard Grove to be on the lookout. I'll also speak with headquarters."

"Margaret, would you patch me through to Superintendent Fontaine?"

"Certainly, Captain Martyn," she replied, pulling the plug at the switchboard, and routing it to Fontaine's office.

Captain Thomas Martyn was a decorated member of the New Orleans police force. Starting as a beat cop covering the two miles from Front Street to St. Louis Street, he rose through the ranks and was there when City Council voted to institute a legalized zone for prostitution in 1897. And it was Martyn who was tasked with the shutdown of the same twenty years later. Storyville, as it was called (named for a certain councilman), was the home to all sorts of vice, and Martyn had seen it all.

For the legalized trade, high-priced madams 'entertained' with music and dance, then afterward, their patrons, often high-society gentlemen-types, would later join the 'ladies' in brothel-house bedrooms featuring opulent accouterments and finely carved woodwork. For poor clients, such as black or immigrant laborers, there were the cribs, shabby one-room houses where 'business' would transpire. These were run by pimps, and the women would perform their work for pennies.

But then there were the illegal activities. Martyn was acquainted with them as well and often served as a witness in court when such activity was uncovered. Drug-addicted women in alleys with dirty mattresses or the children – there through no fault of their own. They would start the children young, working menial tasks such as gathering laundry or washing dishes, but eventually, they'd be integrated into the system, becoming prostitutes themselves, some as young as ten years old. There was big money to be had in selling a child, and Martyn's district was the epicenter for that sort of commerce.

"Captain. I have Superintendent Fontaine on the line."

"Yeah, Tom, what do you have?" Fontaine said, rifling through papers on his desk.

"Sir, I contacted the authorities in Canada as you requested. They're from a little town called Hope Valley in Alberta. I spoke with a Judge Avery, who is apparently helping in their investigation. Anyway, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He…."

"Martyn! I thought you were better than this. I asked you to get rid of them. The last thing I need is for this case to be resurrected. That Drake case caused me all kinds of trouble with... "

"Sir, it's over one of the girls. The family wants to be reunited with her."

"Well, good for them. We're not in the reunion business. We have too many active cases to worry about some used up…. "

"Sir, it's the Bouchard girl."

Fontaine grew silent for several seconds.

"Sir? Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"She's the one…."

"Yes, I know who she was," Fontaine said roughly. "Martin and Helen Bouchard's girl."

"That's correct. You knew the Bouchards?"

"I did." Fontaine rose from his chair and carried the telephone a few steps over to his bookshelf. There, he reached for a book. He laid it on the shelf and opened it. A pressed rose lay between its pages. He touched the rose with his fingertip. "A very long time ago. Jenny Bouchard was murdered, her body discarded, probably carried away by wild beasts. The family never recovered."

"Well, apparently, the Bouchards now think otherwise. They believe she's alive, and the Mounties are giving their story enough credibility they wish to see the court records for Henry Drake."

"They believe Drake was involved with what happened to the Bouchard girl?"

"Yes, sir."

Fontaine carried the rose over to his seat, his mind considering Martyn's words.

"What would you like me to do, sir?"

The superintendent laid the rose on the table. "Give it to them."

"Sir?"

"Give them what they want. Give it all to them."

The captain tilted his head. "Everything? That's a lot of data. Over thirty-five years of investigative research, twenty-five years on Drake alone. Case notes. Records. Witness testimonies. Findings...there are volumes. To send that by courier all the way to Alberta…."

"Then you should accompany it," he responded. "You take it to the Mounties at Hope Valley, assist them any way you can. As soon as I get this debacle over alcohol squared away, I can join you. I haven't seen Martin and Helen since they left New Orleans. He's grown to be a very successful and influential man. It'll be good to reconnect."

"What about my own casework? I can't just leave it."

"Of course, you can. Pass it to that Lieutenant Cantrell. You're needed on this case. Nobody knows the brothels and illicit prostitution rings like you do. Consider yourself on special assignment."

"When should I leave?" he asked.

"As soon as possible," Fontaine replied. "Call this Judge and let him know you're on your way and that I've approved."

"I'll do that."

"Oh, and Thomas. Tell nobody that you're going. The Bouchards are a very well-connected and influential family. If their daughter is alive and ended up in such unsavory conditions, it will work to all our favor that they, um, maintain their privacy."

The ride back to Hope Valley was anything but quiet. The trio decided to leave Joseph's truck at the farm so that Joseph could drive an otherwise distracted Lucas home. Nathan had the full back seat to himself and watched in amazement as Bouchard was as talkative as he'd ever seen him. After what the man had been through, it felt good to see him so happy, and yet it felt foreign, given Lucas was generally so private. Mostly, he was full of questions.

"I wonder what sort of life she's lived? Has she lived in Canada all this time? I wonder when she moved here? She could have lived nearby all this time, and we never knew it."

After a while, he slowed down, studying the picture intently and thinking hard about how it came to be.

"If she was with Lydia Drake, that must mean that they didn't sell her," he said.

"I think that's a good assumption," Nathan replied.

"But Drake came to Canada? Were they running? Was that why she left-because she's still afraid?"

Nathan also thought that was a good assumption but wouldn't relay that information until he had more data.

"You don't think they had a ring in Canada, do you?" Lucas asked.

Nathan shook his head. "Solomon Drake's crimes in Canada revolved around theft and, unfortunately, murder. But there's nothing to indicate a prostitution ring up here."

Lucas nodded, relieved. "Then I wonder where her husband is. There's this photograph of her and her two precious children, but where is he? Why wasn't he in the picture?"

Nathan looked down at his hands. "I might be able to help you with that one."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Jake McGraw,"

"The saddler? I met him. He's the one who told me how to get to the farm. Very helpful."

"He is," Nathan continued. "He mentioned that Lydia lived with her two grandkids. That would be the little girl who told me her name was Jo."

"Jo?" Lucas smiled. "She named her after Josephine in Little Women. It was her favorite book. I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Well, I didn't get the boy's name, but if they are Lydia's grandchildren, then their son David is likely the father."

"Solomon's son is Jenny's husband?" Lucas asked.

"Was," Nathan replied, assuming they had married. "According to McGraw, the son may have died in a bar brawl a few years ago. So, it's just the two women and the children."

Lucas furrowed his brow. "So, she's a widow?"

"I believe so," Nathan replied.

"Oh," Lucas said. "My poor Jenny."

The men pulled into town, immediately taking a right on Riverside Drive so they could stop by Elizabeth's rowhouse, knowing school would be out and she should be home with her son. They didn't have to pull to a complete stop before it was shown they were right.

"Lucas! Where have you been? I've been so worried!" Bouchard's fiancée said, rushing up to the car as Joseph parked it.

Lucas climbed out of the vehicle and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and kissing the side of her head. "I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to worry you." He pulled back a bit so he could see her eyes. "Could we go inside? I have the most amazing thing to show you."

Joseph excused himself to go find Lee, hoping the businessman would drive him back to the farm to pick up his truck. Meanwhile, Nathan returned to town, content that the immediate crisis was averted. He needed time to think about the case and to consider, without telling Bouchard, if there might be any criminality that Jenny could be running from, anything she herself may have been involved in. His gut said no. But why did she run?

Elizabeth turned up the burner on the stove to make Lucas and herself some tea while Bouchard spent a few moments with Jack, who was so excited to see his buddy and eager to tell him about his day with Laura, who had taken him to see the baby calves her father's dairy cow had birthed two nights prior.

"They named the Cow Gertie," Jack said. "She has a sister named Alice, that was born last year."

"Is that a fact?" Lucas asked, enjoying every moment of the boy's story.

"Uh-huh. And she said…she said that the baby cows are born in Spring and sometimes Fall, but until then they rest in the mommy's tummy….but the mommy didn't eat them so I'm not sure how they got there…" he rattled on as Elizabeth blushed upon Lucas's glance. "But I said after you and Mama get married, you will give me a baby brother or sister or maybe both."

Lucas grinned as Elizabeth walked up with the tea and set it down on the end table.

"Well, Buddy and Mama haven't really discussed that much," Elizabeth said. "But maybe that could happen if he wants."

Lucas's eyes sparkled. "I would like that very much."

Elizabeth grinned approvingly, then touched her son's back. "Jack, would you mind going and getting your things to get ready for your bath? Lucas and I need to have a grown-up talk for a bit."

"Okay, mama!" Jack replied, giving Lucas a hug around the neck and a kiss on the tip of his nose as he had done before, then scampering up the stairs. Lucas smiled as he watched him.

"I am thankful he didn't go much further on how the cow got in the mama's tummy talk," Lucas said as the boy stepped out of view. "I'm afraid I'm not quite ready for that."

Elizabeth sat down on the couch next to him and took his arm. "I'm sure when that time comes, you'll be more than ready. You're going to be an amazing father. You already are."

Lucas leaned in and kissed Elizabeth, tenderly at first and then with passion.

"Mama, where's my slippers go?"

Elizabeth pulled away. "It's where did my slippers go, and they are in your closet, on the floor next to your suitcase."

A few seconds passed, and they heard his little voice. "Thank you, mama!"

Elizabeth looked at Lucas, who was about as happy as she'd seen him in a long time. His eyes were sparkling. She reached out and caressed his face. "Darling, where did you go? And what is it that you have to show me?"

Lucas kissed her hand, then held it to his cheek. "Elizabeth, the most incredible thing has happened. I never would have thought it was possible, but…Jenny is alive!"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Lucas reached into his jacket, pulled out the diary and then the photograph, and handed it to her. "My love, the young lady in the photograph is my sister Jenny. She's apparently been living with the Drakes and wasn't sold into that illicit activity."

"Oh, Lucas! She's beautiful!" Elizabeth's eyes misted over as she looked into the eyes of her future sister-in-law. She could see a little of Martin but a lot of Helen in her looks, and she even saw some of Lucas. In the little boy next to Jenny, she saw even more of her fiancé. "Are those her children?"

"We believe so," he replied, looking at the photograph his fiancée was holding with awe. "I was thinking. The little girl is around Jack's age, is she not?"

"She appears to be," Elizabeth said.

"Her name is Jo," Lucas replied. "I'm positive after Jo in Little Women, as that was her favorite book. She and Jack can be good friends, friends like Jenny and I were, and we can be a family again." His eyes began to shine with tears, and he wiped them with his hand. "Elizabeth, we're going to be a family again. And Father and Mother can …Oh! Mother," he said, pausing. "How do I tell Mother?"

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow and took his hand, knowing he had a special concern. "I would think Helen would be happy."

Lucas leaned back against the couch, his mind deep in thought.

"Lucas, speak to me," she said softly. "Tell me what you're worried about."

He looked at her with a look of melancholy. "After Jenny d-, after what happened to Jenny, my mother completely shut down. She locked herself in her room. She wouldn't eat. I'd hear her sobbing every night, and she couldn't be comforted. It was so bad that Father consulted several doctors in New Orleans, and one, in particular, suggested she be placed in a sanitarium."

Elizabeth gasped, but Lucas continued. "In our minds, a sanitarium was essentially one of those places where wealthy families send their loved ones to rest and regain their health. But the sanitarium we were referred to was anything but restful. It was dirty and overcrowded. The air had this foul smell to it that lingered in my nostrils for hours later. It burned like ammonia. Needless to say, we didn't leave her there.

About six months after the incident, Mother's publisher contacted Henry James, one of Mother's literary friends, who referred us to his brother William, a famous psychiatrist from out of Harvard. He led us to Dr. Dodd, who worked with Mother to the degree that after a year, she was well enough to leave her room. Gradually, over the next few months, she got better.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has had a difficult time expressing emotion, but Father said that wasn't always the case. She was strict with us as children, but she loved us. I know my grandmother was strict as well and the sort as to comfort a child by telling them to 'put on the stiffer lip.' But Father says that when he met her, my mother was warm and affectionate. It wasn't until Jenny died that she changed and cut herself off from expressing emotion. And as we've seen with me, holding it all in is not a good way to deal with life's sorrow."

"You're worried for her sanity if you tell her?"

Lucas nodded. "If she reacted that way when we thought Jenny had died, how will she react when she finds out she's alive – after almost thirty years?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Perhaps Dr. Bennett could be there when you tell her? When you tell them?"

Lucas shook his head. "That would probably be good. Father will grow quiet and emotional. He may even break down in tears. He and Jenny were close – very close. It's Mother who concerns me. I don't want to break her with this news. So, having Dr. Bennett along is a very good idea, I believe. I will call him."

A knock came on the door to the office of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the new name for the Northwest units since the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act had merged them with Dominion Police by an act of Parliament in December 1919. Nathan looked up from his papers and then sat up as Faith Carter walked in.

"You busy?" she asked.

"No. No, I'm fine," Grant replied, shoving some papers he'd been reading on Drake to the side. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see how things were going," she said. "I haven't seen you in a few days and have been wondering."

"Yeah, well….I know you have company, and I don't want to interrupt."

"You wouldn't be interrupting," Faith replied. "James is just a friend. We spent some time together earlier, and yes, we even went out on a date or two. He would like more, but I only see him as a friend."

"So, you're saying if I walked up to the two of you, it would just be you talking with two friends?"

Faith was quiet for a moment. "Nathan, I like you. I thought maybe you liked me too. I felt something, at least, I thought I did."

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

She contemplated her response. "I'm not sure. I know I miss my friend."

Grant smiled. "I feel the same way. Could it be possible that the two of us connected over our disappointment in how things worked out between people we ultimately weren't meant to be with? And maybe we were meant to be just this – good friends?"

Faith nodded. "Perhaps. Are you saying we should take things slow?"

Nathan leaned forward. "Look, Faith. I think you're a terrific person and, frankly, would be a great catch for some guy. I'm not sure that guy is me. I don't know. I guess I'm so focused on my job that I don't know what to do with a woman. Maybe it's meant for me to stay single. A lot of the officers in the Mounties are."

Faith smiled. "Oh, you won't stay single," she said. "You have too much love in your heart to give to do that. Allie will be grown soon, and then what? I know what life is like when you neglect your emotional need to be with someone and exchange that with a career – and while I don't regret my choice, I know now it's not going to be enough. So don't shut that door. Whether it's with me or with someone else, there is someone you're meant to be with who's out there for you, just as there is for me."

"Are you sure it's not James?" he responded in a playful tone.

"Nathan, I already said…."

"I know. I'm only teasing," he replied. "He'd be lucky to have you and seems like a decent guy. I know he's helped Lucas."

"He has. That's where he's gone now."

"Really?" Nathan said.

"Yes. Lucas wants him there when he tells the Bouchards about Jenny. Such an amazing story. I hope everything goes well for them."

"So do I," Nathan replied.

Helen and Martin sat conversing in the dining room at the Queen of Hearts Saloon, mainly over whether they were going to continue their stay in Hope Valley, given their son was better and seemingly had no need for their presence. Martin argued with Helen that it was time for their family to work some of their issues out since giving Lucas a clean slate from the past was one of the greatest wedding gifts they could give to him. But Helen stubbornly contended that their son had lived his life for the past decade without them and that whether or not they had a close and comfortable relationship with him now was immaterial to the future success of his marriage.

"We are merely two players in the Shakespearean drama of his life, act one, and whilst we may wish to cast ourselves as leading players in the acts to come, sometimes it's best that we exit stage left since the remainder of the play does not concern us," she said.

Martin chuckled. "You've been thinking about that all day and gauging how to express it."

"It's pondering, not gauging. Gauging is a measurement of importance, not a qualifier of thought."

Martin chucked again. "Thank you, Madam Webster!"

"Oh!" Helen said with a smirk. She looked up just in time to see Lucas, Elizabeth, and Dr. Bennett walking into the saloon. "Well, well. Speak, and he shall appear."

Martin wiped his mouth and stood in Elizabeth's presence. "What a wonderful surprise!" he said, embracing her and kissing her on the cheeks.

"One of many," Lucas quipped.

"I see that you've brought the good doctor along with you," Helen said. "Have you come to start another argument? Or has reason prevailed?"

"Helen!" Martin scolded.

Lucas smiled. "I've come to tell you something that, at present, I myself can hardly believe is true. But I would rather do it someplace private."

"Sounds important," Martin replied.

"It is," Lucas said. "In fact, it changes everything."

"Everything! Well, that is important," Helen responded. "I believe I've had enough of Gustave's wonderful stew. Perhaps we should all go to your office in order to hear what this news is?"

Martin looked at his half-eaten dinner, which he was enjoying immensely, and shrugged. Family was more important. "Very well."

Lucas reached out and touched his shoulder as if intuiting his father's conflict. "I'll have the staff bring some more up to your room after we're finished, although I'm not certain you'll be able to eat."

Martin smiled, then nodded. "I can't wait to hear what you have to say."

Stepping into his office, Lucas was immediately impressed by all the small reminders of his sister he'd accumulated throughout the years. The Elephant bookends he'd purchased in remembrance of her wanting to see elephants at the circus; the little carved bird she'd given him sitting on the shelf; the family copy of Little Women, inscribed by its author shortly before her death in 1888 – a gift to his mother; and a photograph of him and Jenny on the beach – all ways of remembering her and holding onto what they had. To think, they could now begin to build new memories. It was overwhelming.

As Lucas's parents entered, he asked them to take a seat on the small settee in the middle of the room. Martin was smaller in stature than Lucas, and he and Helen fit on the tiny sofa, creating a less 'cozy' situation for his parents. While Helen smoothed her skirt, waiting for everyone to get situated, Lucas pulled his office chairs in front of them, and the doctor stood off to the side to observe.

"Oh, my. It would seem we have a quorum," Helen quipped. Martin patted her hand and then took it, sensing what Lucas was to tell them was of great importance.

When Lucas finally sat, he took a deep breath, and Elizabeth rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. Lucas opened his mouth and then lowered his head. "I'm not sure how to begin."

The parents stayed quiet while Lucas gathered his thoughts, Elizabeth now rubbing small circles on his back as he leaned forward, elbows to knees. Finally, he sat up.

"There's been a break in Jenny's case," he said. "Far beyond our imagination."

Martin leaned forward. "A break? I thought Solomon Drake was the break."

Lucas smiled, swallowing the lump in his throat. "No, Father, there is so much more. Apparently, Solomon and his brother Hank were part of a kidnapping ring that captured young children, young girls, for illicit purposes."

"Oh, my!" Helen stated.

"That was apparently their intent when they took Jenny. But, for whatever reason, they changed their mind. Father. Mother. Jenny is alive!"

The couple's eyes widened then looks of confusion appeared on their faces, so Lucas removed the photograph from his jacket and handed it to his father. A tear rolled down his cheek as he explained what they knew so far.

"The Drakes apparently kept her, and we believe she later married their son, who was later killed. Those are your grandchildren. That is your daughter."

For the first time in many years, Lucas watched as tears filled his father's eyes -their soft green tint was made more intense by the reddening hue that gathered about them. His chin trembled as he looked in wonderment toward his son.

"This….this is Jenny?"

Tears were now flowing down Lucas and Elizabeth's faces as Lucas smiled and shook his head yes.

"She's alive. She wasn't sent to a brothel. She grew up in a home. Nathan has the Mounties searching for her right now."

"They know where she is?" Martin asked.

"She was staying within twenty miles of here on a little farm. I literally ran into her son in the General Store looking for Drake's wife, Lydia. I didn't know it was him – and yet, somehow, I knew. I knew."

Martin turned to Helen, who was thus far silent. "Helen? Can you believe it? Our Jenny, alive?!"

Helen tightened her jaw and then looked at Lucas with a steely gaze. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Lucas furrowed his brow. "No, Mother. There is no joke. I'm telling the truth."

"You're lying!" she shouted. "How dare you come in here and open old wounds for your father and me. Your sister was murdered! Have you no shame?!"

"Helen!" Martin said.

Helen stood and looked at Elizabeth. "And you are encouraging this? Is this funny? Imagine it was your child."

Elizabeth stiffened. "Helen, I assure you that Lucas is telling the truth and would never lie about such a thing. Lucas loves Jenny."

"It's Mrs. Bouchard!" Helen said. "And I believe our stay in this pathetic little town is over."

Lucas, Elizabeth, and Martin stood.

"Mrs. Bouchard, your daughter…."

"Is dead!" she exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have no daughter! And now, I have no son!" She fled the room.

Lucas began to run after her, but Martin stopped him.

"No, son. Allow me," he said. "Your mother is in shock, and you've suffered enough at the hands of her emotions. I'll find her and bring her back." He looked toward the doctor. "Don't go far."

Bennett nodded.

Helen ran through the saloon and out the front door, grasping onto the post as sobs racked her body. When she heard Martin call her name, she turned left and disappeared around the corner, finally hiding in an alcove behind the ice cream shop. She sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest, and wept into her skirt.

XXXXX

"Why can't you find her? Are you even looking?!" Helen said to then Lieutenant Claude Fontaine.

"Of course, we are, Helen," he replied. "We have every available man scouring the area where she was taken, and those outside the area are searching as well."

"Well, you need to make some more available," Martin said.

"Martin, you know I can't do that. Two months ago, a vigilante mob executed eleven Dagos outside the prison for killing Chief Hennessey. There were nearly two thousand people there. That's two thousand witnesses. Most of the force is working to resolve that."

"Look," Martin said, grabbing Claude by the shoulders. "Hennessey is dead. The Italian Immigrants are dead. By God's grace, Jenny is alive!"

Young Lucas sat quietly on the couch in his parent's living room while the adults argued. His arm in a cast still hurt, but nothing like his heart. The world seemed oblivious to him, but he was taking it all in, trying to make as much sense of what was happening as a seven-year-old could.

"Is this about us?" Helen asked.

"What?" Fontaine said.

"Is it because I refused you?" she said, glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"Of course not," he replied. "How could you even suggest!"

Another round of arguments ensued, and Lucas lay down on the couch, trying his best to cover his ears from the sound. The little boy cried. It was all his fault, or so he thought.

Just then, another policeman entered the house. "Lieutenant Fontaine, we've found something."

"You've found Jenny?" Martin asked. Helen reached for his arm.

Lucas sat up on his good arm and watched as his parents gathered around the other officer. He strained to hear as they whispered. Then another officer appeared. He was carrying a bag in his hands. With gloved hand, the first officer reached inside and withdrew some bloodied fabric. Lucas recognized the cloth as part of the dress that Jenny was wearing on the day of her disappearance. His lip quivered. "Jenny?" he said softly.

"I'm so very sorry," Fontaine said.

Lucas lowered his face to the sofa and began to cry but looked up immediately when he heard his father's alarmed voice. "Helen?" His mother had collapsed and was laying dazed on the ground.

Lucas jumped from the couch and ran to her.

"Mother! Mother! I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry!" he cried, thrusting himself onto her and trying to wrap his arm around her waist.

"Get that boy out of here!" Fontaine said. "And get a doctor! This woman is in shock!"

Lucas screamed as one of the officers picked him up and dragged him away, handing him kicking and screaming to the nanny.

In Helen's mind, she could hear him, but she couldn't reach out to him. Her soul felt ripped asunder. "They've taken our Jenny, and they've killed her? Why? Why did it have to be her?"

Lucas's wailing cry was the last thing she heard before losing consciousness.

XXXXX

Helen sobbed as she remembered that time and the raw emotion she'd suppressed came bubbling to the surface. At that moment, all mask of pretense was removed as she faced that horrible event anew, the event she had worked for years to accept and was now being told to forget. It was more than she could process, and she felt herself slipping again into a hole she'd hoped to never see again. That was until her lifeline put his arm around her. Her adoring husband of almost forty years, a man whose patience surpassed anything she'd ever see, a man who was perhaps the only one in the world who truly knew her, found her, and wrapped his arm around her.

"There, there, sweetheart," he said softly. "It's okay."

Helen buried her face against the breast of his suitcoat, clutching onto his lapel. And he let her cry until her sobbing stilled, then pulled her close.

"It's alright, dear. What do you say we go inside? You can rest for a while in the bed in our room?"

Helen wiped her face with her palm. "No. I….I need to see Lucas. I need to apologize. He's been a very good son. I need to tell him I'm sorry for it all."

Martin nodded. "Then we shall go see our son," he said, helping her to stand.

She stopped and looked at him. "Do you think it's really possible that our Jenny is alive?"

He smiled and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I don't know how, but yes. Jenny's still with us. We've seen her face. All we need now is to find her."