Lost Then Found

"Do I love her? Yes."

"Can I forgive her? No. At least not in the foreseeable future."

"Would I ever take her back? Never. She divorced me. It's over between us."

"If only she had lived her life with me according to the Marine Corps Motto . . . 'Semper Fidelis', and you know what that means Uncle Mike . . . . 'Always Faithful' . . . If she was 'Always Faithful' none of this would have ever happened."

******************

LIFE MOVES ON

Several weeks went by and my weekly therapy sessions were starting to produce results. I wasn't as depressed and a lot of the anger was gone. Even the nightmares of seeing that little boy being killed were not as frequent and I was sleeping better.

One day Barbara called me. She was having a birthday party for her niece, Susan, and wanted me to come that Saturday night.

"Scott, it will be good for you to get out with people again. It's only family and a few friends of Susan. Come on what do you say?"

"Okay. You've twisted my arm. What time and any suggestions for a present?"

"Seven o'clock will work. As for a gift, she's turning twenty-five I'm sure you can figure something out. Bye-bye."

What do you get a twenty-five year old woman, that you hardly know, for a gift? Then it came to me. Chocolate. I never heard of a girl or woman who didn't like chocolate. So off I went.

I found an upscale confectionary shop in the mall that specialized in chocolate candy. When I explained what I wanted to the clerk I was shown several of their selections. Picking out a box I asked how much.

The clerk replied. "This one is two-fifty."

"Only two dollars and fifty cents? That sounds awful cheap for a gift."

The clerk looked at me if I was slightly crazy and replied.

"I'm sorry if I confused you. The price of this box of chocolate is two hundred and fifty dollars."

"Okay. I'll take it," I said, handing her my American Express Card. The sales clerk even wrapped it in birthday gift paper for me at no charge. I thought to myself that for two hundred and fifty bucks it was the least they could do.

So Saturday evening, armed with the box of candy and a card from the Hallmark store, I made my way to Barbara and Uncle Mike's home for Susan's birthday party.

I had met Susan for the first time over eight years ago when Maureen and were first married. Over the years I must have seen her maybe a dozen times at assorted family gatherings. The last time was for mom, dad and Ben's funeral.

Susan had matured into a lovely young woman. Standing about five foot seven or eight inches tall and weighing . . . wait a minute . . . men should never speculate about a woman's weight . . . never. Let's just say her weight was appropriate to her height. She had the deepest blue eyes, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders and she looked just as good going as she did coming.

When I entered the room she came up to me and I gave her the card and wrapped present. Placing them on a table holding other gifts she turned back to me and gave me a big hug and a quick kiss on my lips.

"I'm so glad you came, Scott. Come with me. I want to introduce you to my friends."

Watching Susan's family and friends as the party got into full swing I found myself reflecting on the the loss of my own family. Moving into Uncle Mike's study I sought some time alone to reflect on my feelings. I had only been in there for a minute or two when Susan appeared with two plates of birthday cake.

Handing one plate to me, and sitting beside me, she began eating hers. "I love chocolate. This is my second piece." She said as she ate another bite.

I knew then and there that my birthday present would be a big hit with her.

Finishing our cake she stood, grabbed my hand and said to me. "Come with me and watch me open my presents."

When she opened my gift she exclaimed. "Oh my God! This is the all time very best chocolate ever made. Nobody gets to share it with me. It's all mine."

"No, I'm just kidding. Everyone can have one piece. But only one piece," she said looking at her girl friends.

As the party wound down and I made my way to leave Susan came up to me to thank me, once more, for coming and the wonderful gift. Hugging me again she kissed me on the lips. This time it was a long lingering kiss.

Breaking the embrace she whispered in my ear. "Scott, I would like to see more of you. Please call me, soon."

I did just that. Calling the next morning I asked if she would go to dinner with me that evening. She accepted and soon after we began dating frequently. After that first date we spent almost every weekend together either going out or spending time at my place or her apartment.

She told me all about her job as a primary school teacher. She loved watching her students evolve over the course of the school year. It was a very satisfying and fulfilling job for her.

I told her about my divorce and how unsettling it was for me. I explained to her about the treatment I was receiving to combat my PTSD and how successful it appeared to be working. I, also, told her about the little boy who died trying to feed his little sisters. We both cried like babies.

One day, while we were discussing our future together, I spoke of wanting to have children. She became upset and said, "Scott, we have to talk about that."

"You may not want to stay with me anymore after I tell you this. When I was just entering puberty I began experiencing severe abdominal pain. A CAT scan revealed several cysts on my ovaries. They were found to be pre-cancerous and I had to have a partial hysterectomy. I can never have children."

She rose from her seat, began crying as she tried to leave the room. I stopped her and wrapping my arms around her I said to her.

"Susan, I didn't fall in love with your ovaries. I fell in love with YOU! I want to marry you. Please say yes, please say you'll marry me."

She did. We were married three months later.

******************

Shortly before Susan and I got married Tim Truckman's trial in Federal Court was held. He was found guilty on all charges of the indictment. A month later he received another guilty verdict on the State charges.

Uncle Mike's prediction was proven correct. He received a sentence of five years for each of the four counts against him in Federal Court they were to be served consecutively.

The sentence for the three counts of complicity in causing the deaths of my parents and brother was twenty-five to thirty years in State prison. He would serve the twenty years in the Federal prison system before serving his sentence in State prison. He very likely would die in prison.

Uncle Mike immediately filed the civil suit against Truckman and his freight hauling company. Uncle Mike was correct once more. Truckman's insurance company refused to pay his claim citing the fine print in the contract. I was awarded everything he owned. His business, bank accounts, condo and all his personal property; it all came to me.

After talking it over with Susan I decided to sign the condo over to Maureen to live there with some stipulations. She would have to pay the property taxes and association dues herself. If she defaulted on the taxes or association dues the property would revert back to me. She could not sell it.

Maureen managed to reconcile with her parents after I made a few telephone calls to her father. Maureen, her mom and dad came by to see us one afternoon. I always liked her

dad. He was a straight up guy.

He told me that what I did for Maureen was over the top generous. "You were the best thing in her life. Too bad she didn't see that until it was too late."

Maureen just stood there not saying anything. Finally, as they were about to leave she found her voice.

"Scott, it was never you. I was so stupid, so stupid, to be seduced by Tim. He turned into a real bastard when things began falling a part. I'm so very, very sorry. You didn't deserve what I did to you. Your generosity is just overwhelming. Thank you, thank you."

******************

A NEW CAREER

I was sitting in what used to be the office of Truckman Trucking one afternoon trying to make some sense of what I had. All the illegal aliens, excuse me, undocumented drivers had disappeared. The only people left were some of the office staff. I was at a loss at what to do. Sell it or try to resurrect the business.

The door to the office opened and shut and I heard one of the girls the office say. "Oh my gosh. Jake, Jake Rivers, where did you come from?"

"I'm here to talk to the new owner," a voice replied.

"Mister Martin," the girl called to me. "There's somebody here you really need to see."

A man, who I judged to be in his early forties walked up to me, stuck out his hand and said.

"Hi. I'm Jake Rivers. I was the general manager of this outfit when old man Truckman was running the show. After he passed and the kid took over I saw what he was planning so I left. Been driving a truck for a logging company in Oregon the past few years. Couldn't take the winters any longer so I came back."

"As soon as I got in town a couple of old buddies filled me in on what happened. Sorry to hear about your folks. Not sorry to hear about what happened to the asshole."

"Are you thinking about starting up again? If you are I'd like to come to work for you. Providing you play by the rules."

When he finished speaking I took him back into my office and closed the door. What he told me made me decide to resurrect the business. He knew the freight hauling business and what it would take to make the company a success again. Only this time it would be done the right way.

I hired him, put him in charge and never regretted doing it. First thing he did was bring all the paperwork regarding the safety standards for all the trucks, as mandated by the government, up to date. When the word got out that he was back running things men and women drivers showed up looking for work. Adding additional contracts with the few left over we broke even the first month and showed a growing profit in the ensuing months.

Every Saturday evening Susan and I would go out to eat at a restaurant overlooking the river in Jacksonville. Afterward we would strolled along the river walk stop to sit on a bench and watch the river traffic pass by.

One Saturday we watched as a young family with two young girls pass by us. The youngsters were having a grand old time jumping up and down chasing each other. Susan looked at me and we smiled at each other.

******************

FINDING A FAMILY

Taliban insurgents, each one dressed in black and wearing hoods over their faces, entered the compound in the early morning hours before dawn. The few guards that were there were quickly overpowered and silenced. They pulled the Catholic Nuns from their beds, dragging them to the courtyard and beheaded them all.

Then they went for the Christian children. Dragging them, screaming in fright, to the courtyard they were executed as well. The last two were sisters, clutching to each other as the masked insurgent prepared to decapitate them.

Drawing back his sword he swung . . . .

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" I screamed, sitting up in bed, trembling and drenched in sweat, as Susan woke me from my nightmare.

"Scott, Scott, wake up sweetheart. You're all right, you're all right! It was just a bad dream." She exclaimed.

After calming me down she asked me. "Was it the little boy again?"

Answering her I said. "No, this time it was his sisters."

Too upset and shaken to go back to sleep Susan stayed up with me the remainder of the night as I related my dream to her.

"Susan, I've got to find them. I have to be sure in my mind that they are alive and safe."

"Scott, not you, 'WE' have to find them. First thing in the morning we'll start making inquiries. We'll start by talking to Father Sullivan right after morning Mass. He may be able to point us in the right direction."

"Do you remember the name or the location of the Catholic Mission?" She asked me.

"Yes, the mission was in the district of Garmsir just a few miles from my base, Camp Dwyer."

"Now what about the the Sister who you gave the children to? Tell me everything you can remember about her." She questioned.

Replying to her I said. "All I know is her name, Sister Mary Kathryn, I don't ever remember hearing her last name. One other thing. She told me that since the girls were Christian nobody would want them there and she would try to find a foster home for them in the States or in Europe."

"Okay, that's a start. We'll give this information to Father Sullivan and see what he can come up with. Scott, WE will find them."

Susan and I spoke briefly with Father Sullivan after early Mass. He asked to meet with us after the eleven o'clock service. Taking the information we had he told Susan and me he would try to find out anything he could to help us. I gave him my cell phone number, as well as our home phone, to call if he was able to find any information.

Thursday morning he called. Could I meet with him in the church office right away? He had found some things he wanted to share with me.

School had ended for the year for the children the day before but Susan was still there, today, for the last of the teacher meetings and the end of the year staff party. So I called her and left a message before going over to the church by myself.

When I arrived I was surprised to see Susan's car already parked in the parking lot.

"I got your message and left for the rest of the day, sweetheart. I want to be with you when we find out, one way or the other, what Father Sullivan found," she said.

Holding tightly to my hand we walked into the church office. Seeing us Father Sullivan ushered us into his office.

"I have some good news for you. I told the Bishop of your plight and he did some digging for me. He told me our Mission in Garmsir was evacuated three months ago. The Sisters and most of the children were brought to the United States. Right now they are at Saint Mary's Orphanage in Baltimore, Maryland."

"The Sister you gave the children to in Afghanistan is Sister Mary Kathryn O'Reilly. I called inquiring about the children. For obvious reasons they were very reluctant to give me any names or information concerning the children in their care over the phone. All I'm able to tell you is that they have two little sisters there."

"I do hope this helps you find peace, my son," he concluded.

After thanking him profusely Susan and I left to make our way home. I pulled into the garage just as Susan was getting out of her car. Once inside we embraced and Susan asked me how long would it take to get to Baltimore and visit the orphanage.

I managed to book a Delta flight leaving the next morning at 6:55am arriving in Baltimore at 10:27am. We arrived on time and rented a car for the short drive to Saint Mary's.

Susan and I met with Sister Mary Kathryn in her office and she remembered me. "In answer to your question," she said smiling, "the girls are safe here at Saint Mary's. But there are some issues with them."

"Issues? What kind of issues?" I asked.

"The girls are very, very close to one another. So we want to see them both adopted together into a family. Most of our clients only wish to adopt one child. So that is the first issue."

"The second problem is that the girls are absolutely terrified by men. They refuse to be in the same room, let alone talk, with them." She explained to Susan and me.

"Is there anything else?" Susan asked. "Do they have health issues? What about their language skills?"

"They have no health issues and their English language skills have progressed remarkably," the Sister replied. "Their issues are mostly emotional ones based upon their experiences prior to coming into our care."

"Can we see the girls?" I asked.

"I don't see why not. But be prepared for a meltdown when they see you Mister Martin."

Picking up the phone she made a call. "Sister Agnes please bring Azra and Sima Sharif to my office. Thank you."

"Mrs. Martin, please stand next to me and Mr. Martin please sit on the sofa over there. That way you'll be somewhat screened from them when they come into the room."

A few moments later there was a soft rap on the door and Sister Agnes came in holding each little girl's hand.

Speaking to the two girls Mary Kathryn said in a soft voice. "Azra, Sima. This is Mrs. Martin and she has come a long way to visit you. Isn't that nice?"

The girls timidly nodded their heads, yes. Sister Agnes released their hands and gently guided the children forward into the room.

Sister Mary Kathryn continued speaking to the girls in a low, soothing voice, "and there is someone else who, also, wants to see you."

She stepped aside so the girls could see me sitting on the sofa.

A look of recognition swept across the face of Azra, the older of the two, and she began screaming and ran, not away from me but toward me.

"Usafas, Usafas," she yelled launching herself into my lap.

Her sister was not far behind her and I found myself being hugged tightly by the two girls. After a few moments when I managed to settle them down somewhat I glanced at Sister Mary Kathryn and Sister Agnes. They both had looks of astonishment on their faces.

Susan joined us on the soda and soon Sima cuddled up to her asking, "Does 'Usafas' belong to you?"

"No." Susan replied. "We belong to each other. He is my husband and I am his wife. We love each other very much."

"We love him, too." Azra said.

"We'll leave you four alone to get acquainted." Mary Kathryn said, smiling, as she and Sister Agnes left the room.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon talking about what had happened since that day almost a year ago.

The girls told us about how scared they were when they left Afghanistan.

"We rode on a bus with the rest of the children and the good Sisters. There were soldiers dressed like you riding in trucks in front of us and behind us. We looked very hard to see you, but we didn't." Azra told us.

"We got on an airplane, a big airplane, and I was very scared." Sima interjected.

Azra continued saying. "We rode for a long time and fell asleep. We woke up when we landed and they brought us here. It is nice here and we feel safe but we missed you. Sister Agnes told us if we prayed very hard Jesus would hear us. So we prayed every night for you to find us."

The girls took Susan and me for a walk around the orphanage. It was a nice place. There was a shaded garden with benches to sit on and enjoy the flowers and a small fish pond. A children's play ground, complete with slides and swings, was provided for the kids. After supper we said good-night to Azra and Sima telling them we would see them the next morning.

Susan and I found a small hotel not far from Saint Mary's. The sign outside indicated they had vacancies. Once in the room Susan began talking to me.

"Scott, those little girls are absolutely adorable. You would never know, by talking with them, just how tragic and hard their lives have been. They need us, Scott, and we need them in our life."

I have always been amazed just how in tune Susan and I are in our thinking. She said exactly what I had been on my mind all along.

"You are right, sweetheart, you are absolutely right. We'll speak with Sister Mary Kathryn first thing tomorrow and get the ball rolling to adopt them." I said as I embraced her and we fell onto the bed with our arms wrapped around each other.

The next morning Susan and I spoke with Mary Kathryn concerning our wish to adopt Azra and Sima. She was not surprised with our request. She assured us she could have the paper work completed and filed by the middle of next week.

Mary Kathryn, again, called for Sister Agnes to bring the two little girls to her office. As soon as they came into the room and saw us their faces lit up with delight. They rushed over to us and gave us both hugs and kisses.