Page 14 of Jack's Legacy
Rachel's eyes widened. “You are?”
“Yeah.” Jack let out a breath. “But I also know this is the right choice. The Academy. The Navy. It's what I want. You want to be a teacher. And together, it will give us a future. We’ll have a good one.”
“Tell me about it.” Rachel's hands moved to rest against his chest. “Our future. Tell me what you see.”
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself imagine it. Then he opened them and held her gaze. “I see you finishing at Eastern Shore Community College and then transferring somewhere for your teaching degree. I see me coming home every chance I get, and you visiting Annapolis when you can. I see us making it through four years of long distance because we're stronger than the miles between us.”
“And after?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“After, I’ll get commissioned. Maybe I'll be stationed at Norfolk, which would be closer to our families and each other. Or maybe I'm somewhere else for a while, but you can come to me, and we’ll carve out a life together. Eventually, we’ll come back here. To the Bay. To Baytown.” He traced her jawline with his fingers. “Our past and our future.”
“You really think we can do this?”
“I know we can.” Jack leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We've been through harder things than distance.”
Rachel was quiet for a long moment, her fingers curling into his shirt again. When she spoke, her voice was steadier. “I made you something.”
“Yeah?”
She pulled away just enough to reach into the beach bag beside them. When she turned back, she held a small scrapbook, the cover decorated with a photo of the bay at sunset.
“I wanted you to have something to take with you,” she said, placing it in his hands. “So you don't forget.”
“Rach, I could never forget.” But Jack opened the scrapbook anyway, his throat tightening at what he saw.
The first page showed a photo from freshman year. He and Rachel were at one of his baseball games, her cheering from the stands with Cindy. She'd written beneath it in her careful handwriting. The day you pitched a no-hitter, and I finally understood what you loved about the game.
He turned the page. More photos. At homecoming with Rachel in a simple blue dress that had made his heart stop. A candid shot of them studying in the library, her laughing at something he'd said. Pictures from kayak trips on the bay, from beach campfires with friends, from prom last spring, where they'd danced until the music stopped.
Each page held a memory, and Rachel had added little notes beside them. Comments about what they'd been doing, inside jokes, and moments he'd almost forgotten but she'd preserved.
“This is the day you talked about your parents,” Jack said, pausing on a selfie of them sitting on this very beach.
Rachel's voice was thick with emotion. “You just held me and told me it didn't change how you felt. And you told me that you loved me.”
“It was true then.” Jack looked up at her. “It’s true now.”
He continued through the pages, each one a testament to the life they'd started together. Not just as boyfriend and girlfriend, but as best friends. As each other's safe place.
The last page held a photo from their graduation just a few weeks ago. They stood together in their caps and gowns, Rachel's smile brilliant despite the fact that she'd started her freshman year feeling behind. She worked twice as hard as everyone else to catch up from her year of mourning. She'd done it through quiet determination. Advanced classes, summer courses, a full load. She'd graduated with their class, and Jack had never been more proud of anyone in his life.
Beneath the photo, she'd written one final note. We made it this far together. We'll make it the rest of the way too.
“Rachel.” Jack's voice came out rough. He set the scrapbook aside carefully and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
She wrapped her arms around him, her face pressed against his shoulder. “I wanted you to remember. All of it. The good parts.”
“I remember all of it.” He stroked her hair, breathing her in. “Every single moment. Every laugh, every conversation, every time you trusted me enough to let me in.”
They sat like that for a long time, wrapped around each other as the sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. Jack felt the weight of the moment settling over them. This was it. Their last real time alone before everything changed.
“Tell me a story,” Rachel said softly. “About us.”
“What kind of story?”
“I don't know.” She nestled closer. “Something happy. Something that reminds me why we can do this.”
Jack thought for a moment, then smiled. “Remember when you first started coming to my games?”
