John Matthews - Ascension Day

Larry and Francine started seeing each other tentatively again then: occasional dinners out, or often she’d cook dinner for them all when Larry came round to see Joshua. When the compensation paperwork was being completed, Larry remarked to Jac how scared he was by the whole process.

‘So afraid of making the same mistakes as last time. It’s… it’s like starting out all over again.’

You and the city, Jac thought, but when he told Alaysha, she thought it was cute, touching. ‘Almost like they’re teenagers on their first dates all over again.’

Jac and Alaysha started looking at houses again in late November, and finally found a place on the West Bank at Algiers Point — a period bungalow with great river views from its front terrace — to move into just a week before Christmas.

Their first Christmas with family — Jean-Marie, his mother and Alaysha’s — since the nightmare of a year ago.

It was a mad rush. They were still unpacking boxes from their apartments as they put the last decorations on the Christmas tree. And as Jac opened one of their Christmas cards, he suddenly paused, his eyes starting to fill.

It was from Larry:

Jac, thanks for everything! Josh told me that he’d never seen snow before, so I thought it was a good idea to bring him and Fran up here to Aspen.

Merry Christmas!

But it was the small Polaroid inside that had brought a lump to Jac’s throat: Larry with an arm around Fran and Josh each side, the three of them by a snow-laden fir tree as they smiled at the camera.

Hands trembling as the emotions gripped him, Jac passed the photo to Alaysha. ‘Isn’t that… that picture worth a thousand — ’

Alaysha, hearing the tremor in his voice, simply touched one finger against his lips, seeing in his eyes in that moment all the softness and vulnerability that had first drawn her to him; and as she looked at the photo and felt the tears softly sting her eyes too, she started planting gentle kisses where a second ago her finger had been. ‘Yes, it is, Jac… yes it is.’

And Jac, feeling those kisses, was reminded of all the times in the dead of night when he’d suddenly find himself back in the dark water, struggling to make it to the surface, breathe again … and Alaysha would lay the same kisses on one cheek as she shook him gently back awake, ‘Are you okay, Jac… are you okay ?’

The dreams were less frequent now, the stark, chilling memories fading with each passing month — until finally, hopefully, they’d be like Larry Durrant’s memory of being at the Roche house that night all those years ago.

Someone else’s memory, not even his.