Epilogue

The cemetery was a dozen miles north of Portland—the same place they’d buried Alice nine years earlier. Matt searched the white-flecked Atlantic for answers. Finding none, he turned and walked back toward Ali. She brushed tears from her face and reached for his hand, her long delicate fingers surrounding his. They watched the hearse threading its way through the cemetery.

“This is where she’d want to be”—he touched Ali’s hair—“near the ocean, next to your grandmother.”

“I know, Matt.” Ali had borne her mother’s death so well. Matt nodded at the Lincoln Town Car parked anonymously under a grove of distant oaks, wondering what his old friend must be thinking. Seeing the group gathering, he turned Ali’s wheelchair and headed toward them.

A massive security team surrounded the gravesite. Matt had vowed that the final act of Jesse’s life would be a private one. The parasites that helped destroy her would never benefit from her death.

The weather had been mild for November, but a cold wind blew in off the Atlantic. As they reached the graveside, Matt bent to tuck the blanket around Ali.

“I’m fine,” she scolded, pushing his hand away. “I’m almost nineteen. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re right.” He knelt, finding the large blue-green eyes that mirrored her mother’s.

They were all there: Liz and Terry; John Van Zandt; Jim Richards, supported by a cane; members of her theater company; Allen and Jeanne; his father and…Donna? She stood, staring at the casket. He thought about that perfect afternoon when she and Jesse had met.

After the blessing, Ali gave the eulogy. Matt held her hand, amazed at her composure. Listening, it struck him that she and Jesse had been more like sisters. Their journey had been a long and difficult one. They shared it, making the difficult and often painful passage with no compass to guide them.

The service ended, and the tiny crowd began to leave. As his family approached, Matt saw Donna walking away. “Would you excuse me for a minute? There’s someone I have to see.”

“Sure, Matt,” Allen said, drying his eyes. “She insisted on coming. We didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t.” He ran after her. “Donna! Please wait.”

She stopped, facing away from him. “It’s been a long time.” He took her arm. “Thank you for coming.”

She turned, tears falling onto her woolen coat. “I hope you’re not angry.” She looked away. “I wanted to come…Had to.”

“I’m not. It was kind of you.”

“Thanks,” she managed. “I’m not here out of kindness. I wanted to tell you something, but I lost my nerve.”

“It’s all right. I understand. I heard you got married.”

Donna looked down, wiping the tears away. “We’re not together anymore, Matt.”

“Sorry. The neighborhood grapevine missed that one.”

“They couldn’t have known. We did it quietly—no fault.” She shook her head. “What a strange name for divorce—no fault—like an auto accident. Frank was a good man.” She found Matt’s eyes. “I was the one to blame.”

“Remember the first time you met Jesse—that day at the swan boats?” he asked, wondering why she’d made this long pilgrimage.

She nodded. “Yes. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“You warned me to be careful, asked what I knew about her.”

“I have to fix that.” Donna’s eyes filled again, but she pushed the tears aside.

Matt was confused. “What do you mean? Fix what?”

She studied the grass. “I thought you were wrong about her, that I was giving you good advice, but I was the one who was wrong—about her, about you, about so many things.”

He touched her face. “It’s all right, Donna. You were trying to help.”

“Please don’t be kind, Matt. I don’t deserve it.” She pulled away. “I’ve read about Jesse and the kind of life she had. But in spite of everything she went through, she still loved you so much, she gave her life for you.” Donna stopped and touched his face. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“Thanks for the kind words about my mother.” They turned. Ali wheeled closer and stopped, holding out her hand. “I’m Alexis Long, Jesse’s daughter.”

“I know. I’m Donna Flaherty.” She shook Ali’s hand.

“I remember you.” A faint smile crossed Ali’s face. “We met when I was very young—at the swan boats.”

Donna nodded. “You have a good memory, Alexis.”

“It was nice of you to come.” Ali squeezed Donna’s arm and turned. “Don’t be too long, Matt.”

“My God.” Donna watched Ali leave. “She’s so beautiful, Matt, and so mature. So much like her mother.”

Matt followed Ali with his eyes. “Yes.” He turned toward Donna. “I appreciate the kind words.” He sighed, taking her hands in his. “I’ve got to go now. Thanks to an old friend, Ali’s a very rich young lady. I want to help her make good decisions.”

Donna nodded, sniffled, and took a deep breath. “Working on a new book?”

He nodded. “I’m going to write Jesse’s biography. It’s a story people need to know.” He looked toward her grave. “John Van Zandt suggested a title.”

“Well?” She asked.

“What do you think of Jesse’s Song?”

“It’s wonderful. I think she’d like it.”

“I have to go, too. Good-bye, Matthew. I’m sorry about…everything.” She pulled him close, kissing his cheek. “Good luck. Ali’s very lucky to have someone like you.”

As she turned, Matt called to her. “You still doing social work?”

She nodded. “Head of the Regional Domestic Violence Task Force. It’s not glamorous, but needs to be done.”

“So I’ve found out,” he said, looking back toward Jesse’s grave. “Maybe I’ll see you around the old neighborhood.”

She looked back at him. “I’d like that.” She paused. “I’m glad I came. It was worth the trip.” When she got to her car, Donna waved. Rejoining his family, he said his good-byes.

He knelt. “Good night, my love, my life,” he whispered, placing a rose on Jesse’s grave. He got up and began pushing Ali toward the car. The wind was picking up, so he moved faster.

“Matt, I know how I’d like to spend some of the money Uncle Mario left us,” Ali said when they reached the car.

“How?” he asked.

“I’d like to help people like Mom. People who have tough lives.”

“Well, maybe we could help by building shelters.” He looked at Donna’s car as it left the cemetery. “I think I know someone who might be able to give us some ideas.” He looked toward the graves. “I think your mother and grandma would like that.”

“I’d like it, too,” she said, looking up at him. “Matt?”

“Yes, Ali.”

“Do you really think there’s a heaven? I mean really?”

“With all my heart,” he whispered.

“Do you think God heard Mom when she prayed?”

“Jesse prayed?”

“A lot. She was so tired and scared sometimes. I’d hear her crying and...”

“Ali, if she prayed, God heard her.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

Matt noticed her expression. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m glad,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I believe you.” Ali pushed herself up. She took a tentative step, then a second with more confidence. “If God answered her prayers,” she said, holding Matt for support, “she’ll never have bad dreams…ever again.”