Page 141 of Finding Us
From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says I survived.
At every given moment you have the power to say this is not how my story ends.
Don’t judge yourself by what others did to you.
The enemy doesn’t stand a chance when the victim chooses to survive.
Although they are hard for me to read, I agree it’s a nice touch. They are empowering words and resonate with me on so many levels. I am a survivor too, after all.
Once the tour comes to an end, we gather in the kitchen and I find out that our first family, a woman and her two young children, will be moving in later this afternoon. It’s all happening so fast, but I’m grateful that something good is coming out of my mother’s tragedy. This place will ensure she is never forgotten.
“Do you want to come and see the backyard?” Jacinta asks, and my stomach drops, because I’m not sure if I can go out there. She must see the unease on my face because she tightens her grip on my hand. “Please. I think you’ll like what we’ve done.”
Against my better judgement, I nod my head and let her lead me out the back door. A large covered deck has been built along the back of the house. There is a comfy lounge area, and a long wooden table with chairs down both sides. I see a swing set and a cubby house just beyond it, but I can’t bring myself to look any further, specifically where the shed once stood.
“It looks great out here,” I say as I turn back towards the house.
“There’s more.” When she tries to pull me towards the stairs, I resist. She stops and turns to face me. “I know it’s hard being out here, but I did something special for you where your mum was found. I want to show you, but if it’s too much we can go back inside.”
The hopefulness I see in her eyes has me caving straight away. “Okay, show me.”
My focus remains on the grass as she leads me across the lawn. It’s not until we stop walking that I eventually look up. “It’s a memory garden,” she says.
Tears instantly cloud my eyes when I see a circle of fragrant, colourful rose bushes surrounding a marble fountain, where a large white, winged angel stands in the centre. “Babe,” I say, choking on the word. There is a plaque at the base that reads:
In memory of Rebecca Miller.
You will always be in my heart, because in there you’re still alive.
Fucking hell.I drop her hand and dig the heel of my palms into my eye sockets when the tears threaten to fall. Jacinta just wraps her arms around my waist, holding me tight. I actually love that she’s done this for me. I’d much rather picture this than the fucked-up image I have swimming around in my head of my mother lying under that slab.
Once I regain my composure, I say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Mum has everything covered here, why don’t we go get Blake and go somewhere nice for breakfast?”
There’s no fanfare associated with today’s opening, because this is, after all, a safe house, and its anonymity remains important.
I fold her in my arms, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”
“Yes, but you can tell me again.”
“You make me happy, Red. So, fucking happy.”
“Ditto, Wolf,” she says with a smile as she gets up on her toes to place her lips against mine.
“We are going to have the best life together, and give our kids everything we never had.”
“Our kids?”
“One day I’m going to fill that luscious body of yours with all my babies.”
Her eyes widen. “Umm … okay.”
I drape my arm over her shoulder as we walk back towards the house. “Think of all the street cred I’ll get at the nursing home when I’m older.”
“What?”
“Who else can say they knocked up a stripper named Sparkles?”
