May 7, 1994


Simonton, Indiana

Six-year-old Aislin Kohl had no idea what had happened earlier that day. All she knew was that some police officers had shown up at her house and taken her daddy away. A nice lady had told her everything was going to be okay, and that she needed to go with her. Aislin was scared, but, being the trusting type, she went with the lady without much resistance. Besides, the lady seemed nice enough. In fact, she kind of reminded her of her mommy, what little Aislin remembered of her.

Her mom had left when she was four, but Aislin still had vague memories. She remembered the hugs, the kisses, the bedtime stories. She remembered the walks to the park, the jokes, the laughter. But, even more memorable than all that was the yelling. No, Mommy never yelled at Aislin. In fact, she didn’t do a whole lot of yelling. It was Daddy that did. He yelled at Mommy, and often. Sometimes he hit her. But Daddy never hit Aislin. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to her, but when he did it was hardly ever negative.

And then one day she was gone. Aislin woke up and padded down to the kitchen, but Mommy wasn’t there like she usually was. Daddy sat at the table reading the paper, like usual, but Mommy wasn’t in there cooking breakfast. Aislin asked where she was, but all Daddy would say was,

“She’s gone.”

“When will she be back?”

“Never, I hope.”

Aislin thought that was a mean thing to say, but she left the subject alone, mainly because her tummy told her it was time for breakfast. Besides, she didn’t think Daddy really meant Mommy would never be back. She never left Aislin.

But the hours turned to days, the days to months, the months to years. Mommy never came back. Aislin missed her dearly at first, but as time wore on, the memories of her mother grew foggier, until she just wished for Mommy every now and then.

Now Aislin sat in a chair in a big building she’d never seen before as the lady tried to explain what had happened, and what was going to happen, in a way she would understand. The lady told her that her daddy had done something very wrong and now he had to stay with the police building in jail. She told her that now Aislin would have to stay at this building, something she called a “group home”—whatever that meant—until some nice couple wanted her to stay in their home. Aislin wasn’t sure she fully understood, but she thought she got the general idea, so she didn’t ask questions.

June 20, 1994

Aislin hadn’t liked the group home. All the big kids picked on her and called her names and stuff. She had been excited when the lady that had taken her to the group home told her a nice couple wanted her to stay in their home. But mere days after coming to their house, she had to wonder where the “nice couple” was. These people were not “nice”. They were mean. They yelled at her. They hit her. Sometimes they forgot to feed her. Aislin wanted her daddy back, even if he hadn't paid a lot of attention to her. At least he didn’t yell or hit. At least he fed her three times a day, even if the food wasn't that great. She thought of Mommy, and how things might be if she hadn’t left.

August 5, 1994

Aislin wasn’t sure whether she was excited or disappointed when the lady from the group home told her she was going to have to go back to the group home. She was excited because it would taker her away from these mean people—but she was disappointed because then she’d have to be picked on by the big kids in the group home.
But, she thought, at least the kids at the group home don’t hit me.

For the next eight years, Aislin was tossed from abusive foster home to group home, and back again. She was getting sick of it. At fourteen, none of the “good” foster homes wanted her. They wanted younger children.

Aislin had only been in three “good” foster homes in the past eight years. They reminded her of life with her dad, before he was arrested. Nobody paid much attention to her, but at least when they did, it wasn’t negative. And they fed her three times a day, too. Of course, Aislin’s optimistic part was always finding the good in the bad situations.

At least I have a roof over my head.
At least I get to eat sometimes.
At least they don't yell at me or hit me.

Those were the thoughts she had. Of course, sometimes it was hard to think positively, but she always managed.

Until it happened.

December 18, 2002

Another foster home. No better than the rest. Aislin had finally made up her mind that the group home was better. She was still picked on there, but the older she got, the more it decreased.

She’d been in this foster home about a month now, and had brand new bruises from the day before. She’d forgotten to do one of her many chores, and that didn’t go over well with her foster mother, who told her foster father, who issued the “discipline”.

Aislin’s foster mom was “running errands”—which probably meant she was buying drugs. Her ten-year-old foster brother was spending the night at a friend’s. He was gone as often as possible, the poor kid. He couldn’t stand this place. Since friends was something Aislin lacked, she usually holed up in her room to escape.

Aislin sat at the table, doing her homework, and gingerly rubbing one of the bruises on her face. She wasn’t getting very far very fast. Her mind kept wandering. To all the beatings she’d taken in the last month. To the way her foster dad looked at her when he wasn't beating her. As a young lady who looked much older than fourteen, she got that look from males a lot. She wasn’t sure she liked it coming from her foster dad. Strangers, she could deal with. Someone she had to live with, no. But, what could she do about it? She was pretty sure she’d end up with more bruises if she said or did anything. At least the strangers she could say something to, if she had to.

Aislin was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice her foster dad come into the room, until he said,

“Hey.” Aislin jumped and turned to see him.

“What?” she asked feebly.

“Come with me,” he said, nodding down the hallway.

“Where to?” she asked.

“Don’t ask questions.” He took on the warning tone of his that told her he really meant it. She shut up and followed him. He led her to his room. She figured maybe he had to get something. But then. . .why would he need to shut the door behind them? She shot a curious glance at the door, hoping he’d give her an answer. He didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at her that way, the way she really didn’t like coming from him. He sized her up with hungry eyes. She was getting scared. Finally, he said,

“Come here.” Aislin was frozen. “I said, come here!” he said more forcefully, as he grabbed her wrists and pulled her with him. Aislin eyes shot to where it was obvious where he was pulling her to. With the way he had been looking at her, not just right then, but also in the past month, there was no doubt where this was going. Aislin tried to fight him, but to no avail. Still, she continued to fight and struggle, but she couldn't stop him from pushing her down onto his bed.

Iu>

Don’t you dare tell anybody about this,” said Aislin’s foster dad. “You do, I’ll kill you. Got that?” Aislin nodded, directing her tear-clouded eyes away. “Good.” He let her up. “Now get your clothes on and get outta here.” She quickly obeyed.

Aislin’s homework lay forgotten on the table. Aislin was in her room, throwing a few things into a backpack. She had to get away. Had to.

Packing didn’t take long. Soon, she was dropping her backpack the three feet out her window to the ground. She followed, leaving foot prints in the melting snow. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she took off running down the street as fast as she could.

Thirty minutes later, she was still running. The track team coach would be proud. But, of course, she was running purely on adrenaline and fear. But in spite of those factors, she knew she could run no further. She collapsed on the front porch of the nearest house, and pounded on the door. Who knew what her foster dad would do when he found her missing. She had to hide. She only hoped the people inside this house would let her in; hide her.

The door opened in front of her. On her knees, she looked up to see a slender young woman standing in the doorway. She looked rather surprised to see a tearful, bruised, panting teenager on her doorstep. She gasped.

“You poor girl!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Can—” Aislin started, looking over both shoulders. “Can I come in?” She looked over her shoulders again. “Please don’t let him get me! Can I come in? Don’t let him get me. . .don’t let him get me. . .” her voice dropped to a whimper. “Don’t let him—”

The young woman helped her up and into the house. She shut the door, and, for the comfort of the poor Aislin, she locked it.

Aislin was huddled on the floor next to the door, crying and whimpering.

“Don’t let him get me. Don’t let him get me. Don’t let him get me.” She kept repeated those five words. The lady squatted down to her eye level.

“Calm down,” she said. “Just calm down.” Aislin seemed not to hear. She kept repeated those five words. The woman gently took hold of each of Aislin’s arms, and said, “It’ll be okay. I won’t let him get you. Just calm down. Take a deep breath.” Aislin did so, quivering. “Now,” said the woman, “what’s your name?” In a shaky voice, Aislin replied,

“A-Aislin.” She pronounced it Ash-lin.

“That’s a pretty name. I'm Cera.” Aislin continued to quiver. “Now, tell me, who don't you want to find you?”

“M-my f-foster dad.”

“Okay, don’t worry, I won’t let him get you.” Cera’s voice was soothing. “Do you mind telling me why you’re running from him?”

“I—I—” Aislin burst into tears again, shaking even harder than before. Cera changed positions so that she could hold Aislin. Finally, Aislin was able to continue. “I can’t tell you,” she said.

“Why not?”

“He said he’d kill me if I told anybody.” Cera stifled a gasp.

“Why did he say that?”

“Maybe ’cause he wanted to do it again. . .and he couldn’t if he was in jail.”

“It was something illegal?” Aislin nodded. “He should be turned in.”

“I can’t tell,” Aislin reminded her.

“Honey, if you don't tell the police, he’ll do it again—maybe to you, maybe to someone else. If you do tell them, he'll be arrested and that will guarantee he won’t be able to get you.” Aislin considered the options. “I'll get you the phone if you want to report him—or you can tell me and I’ll report it.”

“I don’t wanna talk to ’em. Don’t tell them you heard it from me, all right?” Aislin's eyes were full of fear.

“I won’t,” Cera promised.

“He raped me.” Aislin blurted, before she lost her nerve. Cera didn’t respond for a moment. She was trying to figure out if she was hearing right. She figured Aislin would say he had abused her
—she had bruises. She wasn’t expecting this.

“Okay,” Cera finally said. “Tell me his name, and I'll get the phone and call. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“Norman Locke,” Aislin replied.

Just as Cera was dialing 9-1-1, someone came in the back door. He came into the living room and saw Aislin. He looked at Cera curiously, but didn’t say anything yet because she’d started speaking to the person on the other line.

“Yes. . .I’d like to report a crime. . .Cera Norway. . .I received word that a young lady was raped. . .Yes. . .Um, for the safety of the reporter, I cannot tell you. . .Norman Locke. . .254 Ash Street
. . .Yes, I can. . .Okay. . .Bye.”

The man stood staring at the two women in the living room, dumbfounded. Cera looked at Aislin and asked,

“Is it okay if I tell him?” Aislin shrugged.

“The whole world’s gonna know anyway. I just hope. . .I just hope he doesn’t get to me before the cops get to him.”

“He won’t,” Cera assured her, then turned to the man. “This poor young lady was raped by her foster dad. She needed to hide from him, so I let her in. And don’t go getting riled, John. I know you hate how some men these days lack respect for women, but don’t get riled. Everything will be fine. I’ve called the cops, and they’re on their way.” John certainly wasn’t getting riled. In fact, he was still staring dumbfounded. Cera turned back to Aislin. “The cops have to come here to interview you. They asked if I could get you here, or if I could tell them where you lived, and I said I could get you here, but I didn’t tell them you were the one that told me what happened. They just need a few details. Is that okay?” Aislin shrugged.

It wasn’t long before the police arrived at John and Cera’s house. Cera peeked out the peephole before opening the door. Seeing the officers, she unlocked the door and let them in. One officer spotted Aislin still huddled on the floor, and asked,

“Is that her?” Cera nodded, and offered the officers a seat. They accepted. Sitting down, one officer, whose badge read Officer Black, said in a friendly tone,

“What's your name?” He could see why her foster dad did what he did. She was very attractive, despite the bruises.

“Aislin.”

“Aislin what?”

“Kohl.”

“How old are you, Aislin?”

“Fourteen.”

“Really? You look older.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I understand the man who did this is named Norman Locke.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know him at all?”

“He's my foster dad.”

“Hmm. That means we’re going to have to call social services.” The other officer got right on it.

“How did you get those bruises, Aislin?” Officer black continued.

“He beat me yesterday,” Aislin replied.

“Does he make a regular habit of this?” Aislin only nodded.

“What are those scars on your arms from?”

“Nunya.”

“I need to know, Aislin.” Officer Black's voice was firm, but still soothing.

“I cut, okay?” Aislin all but yelled. “How’s that relevant?”

“I didn’t know but what they were because of your foster dad,” Officer Black defended. “Don’t go getting mad,”

“Sorry,” Aislin muttered, barely audible. Officer Black heard, and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I’m sorry. It’s a sensitive subject. I didn’t mean to get you defensive.” Just then, the other officer, whose badge read Officer Schmidt said,

“Aislin, you’ll have to stay here until the social service worker can get here, okay?” Aislin nodded. “Now, can we have your address so we can arrest your foster dad?” Aislin gave it to him. “Thank you,” Schmidt said. He and Black bade their goodbyes, then left.

Not long after the officers left, the social worker arrived. It was the same one that Aislin first met when she was six. She’d kind of been Aislin’s own social worker, though she did deal with other kids, too.

“Hello,” she said, entering John and Cera’s house, and shaking hands with first Cera, then John. “My name is Brenda.” John and Cera introduced themselves. Then, turning to Aislin, Brenda said, “I’m so sorry about what happened.” Aislin didn’t say anything. “Guess you’re going back to the group home now.” Aislin remained silent.

“Wait,” said John.

“Yes?”

“My wife and I discussed this while the police were here interviewing Aislin,” John started. Aislin vaguely remembered him and Cera being in the kitchen, talking in low tones. She hadn’t thought much of it then. Now she wondered what they’d been discussing. “And we thought maybe we could take Aislin in.”

“Well, you’d have to get a license to be foster parents, but—” Cera cut her off.

“We are licensed,” she said. “We’ve been taking in fosters—though we don’t currently have any—for three years. Recently, we’ve been looking into adoption, since we aren’t able to have children of our own.”

“Oh,” said Brenda. “Well, I actually don’t think Aislin is up for adoption—last I checked, her real dad was still alive—in jail, but alive, which means he still has rights to her. Her mother died of cancer last year, though. I do need to check up on her father again
—to see if he still wants rights to her. I’ll let you know if he wants to terminate his rights. Until then, you may take her as a foster. We just need to fill out the proper paperwork, then she’s yours.”

December 23, 2002

The phone rang. John answered.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hello. . .John?” came the voice on the other end.

“Oh, hello, Brenda,” John said pleasantly.

“You feel like doing more paperwork?” Brenda asked.

“Why?”

“Aislin’s up for adoption.”

“Her father gave up his rights?”

“No. He somehow killed himself while in prison. He heard about what happened to Aislin, and apparently, he thought he couldn’t take it. With both parents dead, she’s up for adoption.”

“In that case, you bet I feel like doing more paperwork.”

“Great. I’ll be over later today. . .say about seven this evening?”

“Sounds good. I’ll tell Cera.”

December 27, 2002

“Aislin,” Cera said as she, Aislin, and John were finishing up dinner.

“Yeah?” Aislin asked.

“We’d like for you to go to church with us tomorrow,” Cera said. “It might do you some good. . .after all you’ve been through.” Aislin shrugged and said,

“Okay, whatever.” She really didn’t want to, but with as many “parents” as she’d had in the past eight years that had beat her if she told them she didn’t want to do something they wanted her to do, she didn’t say no. Of course, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that these people were different, but she’d had too many bad experiences; experiences whose lessons overrode that knowledge in the back of her head.

She berated herself for not trusting them. After all, they’d taken the liberty to do some last-minute Christmas shopping just for her. She rarely got any gifts for any occasion—Christmas, birthday, whatever. Nobody ever thought highly enough of her to get her anything. But these people had. Even with as little time as they’d had left, they’d gotten her, not one, but five gifts.

She hadn’t let them see the tears. Tears she thought she’d never cry. . .tears of joy. Joy caused by the thought that somebody did care, that somebody appreciated her presence in their household. She’d had to excuse herself to got to the restroom to get away so she could let the tears flow without them knowing. For the first time in many, many years, she felt happy.
Happy. She’d almost forgot what the word meant, what it felt like to be happy. But, as all good things in her life, the feeling didn’t last. All it took was another nighttime. Another cold, sleepless night full of nightmares. Nightmares she’d been having since the day her old foster dad had raped her. They tortured her, taunted her, stole any hope of sleep. They kept playing back that day, what had happened. They robbed her of any joy or happiness she may have had. And try as she might, she could not get them to leave her alone. . .unless she forced herself to stay awake. Of course, the lack of sleep was quickly catching up with her, taking a toll. She was lucky to get four hours of sleep, and her body just didn't function on such little sleep.

Just as Aislin was about to excuse herself, John stopped her.

“Aislin,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I can tell you haven't been getting much sleep. Why?” Aislin looked at her empty plate. The plate that had not long ago held a delicious, nourishing meal, something most people would take for granted, but something she knew she never would. “Aislin?” John probed.

“I have nightmares,” she admitted. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“What kind of nightmares?” he asked with concern.

“Replays of. . .that day. Of what happened.” She fought to hold the tears inside. Crying was definitely not something she made a habit of. She only did it if she absolutely couldn’t help it. Or alone at night.

“I’m so sorry,” John said. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

“There’s not.”

“Maybe not,” John said, “but I know God can do something.”

“That’s why we’d like you to go to church with us,” Cera added.

December 28, 2002

“Aislin,” Cera said softly, “it’s time to wake up.” Aislin groaned and opened her eyes. Though she hadn’t gotten much sleep, she was ready to wake up, to get rid of the nightmares.

As Aislin entered the kitchen for breakfast, Cera said,

“You’ll need to wear a skirt to church. I know you don’t own any, but I bought you one not long ago. I didn’t give it to you for Christmas because I knew you don’t like skirts, but you can have it now. It’s just a casual denim skirt, so maybe it won’t be so bad.” Aislin groaned inwardly. Cera was right, she didn't like skirts. She couldn’t stand skirts. But she didn’t say anything, only nodded. “You can change after church, too, if you’d like,” Cera added.

Well, thought Aislin, that much is good.
Aislin paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. A wave of nausea hit her. She’d been feeling this the past nine mornings. It was all she could do to keep from puking, and sometimes she couldn’t help it, so she had to rush to the bathroom. But it never lasted long. She usually felt fine after a little bit. She thought it was strange, but was glad it didn’t last any longer.

“Aislin?” Cera asked, concerned. “Are you okay?” Aislin didn’t respond. Instead, she pushed her chair back and rushed to the bathroom. Cera frowned as she watched Aislin dash off. “I wonder what the cause of this is?” she asked John.

“Beyond me,” he replied.

When Aislin trudged back to the table, Cera asked,

“Are you okay?” Aislin nodded. “Are you sure?”

“I’m still a little woozy, but I’ll be okay,” Aislin assured her.

Church was boring, to say the least, Aislin thought. The only thing keeping Aislin from falling asleep were the nightmares. She was sure they’d haunt her there, too, so it was surprisingly easy to stay awake. And, to make things worse, John and Cera wanted to stay and visit. And, there as nothing to do. So, Aislin just sat on the bench, by herself.

“Hey,” came a voice as its owner slid in beside her. Aislin, startled, looked to see who had spoken. It was a tall, slim young man, probably seventeen. He had light brown hair that shined gold, and deep, intense eyes. Aislin was surprised at their blueness. She’d never seen a shade of blue like that. Those eyes were looking at her, but not in the way her old foster dad had that day; not the way she was used to being looked at by guys. Instead, they held curiosity, and a bit of mischief, which gave away his ornery nature.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he said. “You John and Cera’s new foster kid?”

“For the time being,” she told him. “I’m in the process of being adopted.” He grinned and said,

“That’s cool. So, what's your name?”

“Aislin.”

“I’m Aaron.” After a short silence, he said, “You’re one of those loners, aren’t you?” Aislin nodded. Aaron continued, “My goal in life is to eliminate loners. I’m ‘The Loner-ater’” Aislin gave him a perplexed look. He laughed and said, “In other words, I like to befriend the lonely and friendless. Once a loner has a friend, they’re no longer a loner. Therefore, my goal in life is to eliminate loners. ‘The Loner-ater’ is my name for myself.” Aislin couldn’t help smiling at his energy and enthusiasm. “And you're my next victim.” Aaron grinned a mock-evil grin. Aislin had to giggle a little. He sniffed. “So, how old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Really? I thought you were like my age. . .or older.”

“Yeah. Everybody thinks I’m older than I am. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Cool.”

“So, what’re you into?”

“Mountain biking, mainly,” she told him.

“Dude, no way!” Aaron exclaimed. “I love mountain biking!”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Aaron and Aislin were still talking when John and Cera were ready to go. But they hated to interrupt. Aislin needed as many friends as she could get. The poor girl was so emotionally damaged after eight years in the foster system—and even more so now, after what her old foster dad had done—that it was extremely hard for her to make friends.

“Oh, gosh,” Aaron said, looking at his watch. “It’s getting late. I probably need to be getting home, before my parents freak out.” He grinned a lopsided grin. Aislin smiled back.

“I see you and Aaron hit it off pretty well,” Cera commented as she, John, and Aislin climbed into the car. “He’s a pretty likable kid. He’s made friends with every foster kid we’ve had.” Aislin, as usual, didn’t say anything.

The three were well on their way home when John took a left turn—where he should’ve turned right. Aislin looked at the back of his head, puzzled. Cera cleared her throat. She glanced at John. He glanced at Aislin the rearview mirror. Aislin’s eyes went from John to Cera and back again.

“What?” she asked. “Do I have something on my face?” The three chuckled, but it seemed to Aislin that John and Cera’s chuckles were forced and nervous. “Seriously,” she said, sobering. “What is it? Where are we going?”

“I, uh—” Cera began. “I was talking to one of my friends today—she’s quite a bit older than me, but we’re good friends anyway.” Aislin gave her a look that said, “So what?” Cera continued. “I told her about your being sick the past several mornings, and asked her to pray for you.” Aislin still didn’t get it. Her look prodded Cera. “She asked details about your sickness, and then she—well, she told me that it sounded an awful lot like the morning sickness associated with pregnancy.” Aislin stared disbelievingly. “And she should know,” Cera continued. “She’s had five kids.”

“You think I'm pregnant?” Aislin repeated incredulously.

“Well, we’re not saying for sure, but your sicknesses seemed to be in the right timing—they started the morning after. . .that day. And, well, my friend thought they sounded like the pregnancy morning sickness—”

“No.” Aislin cut Cera off. “I am not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant.” In her mind, she thought about the irony of it all. Usually, pregnant teenagers had to tell their parents that they were pregnant—not the parents telling the teenagers.

“Well,” said Cera, “You may not be. But we need to be sure. And that’s where we're going, to the pregnancy center. They offer free pregnancy tests.” The world swirled around Aislin’s head. This wasn’t happening—was it? She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would all go away; hoping she’d wake up and find this was all another nightmare. She opened her eyes again. Nothing had changed.

A pleasant middle-aged woman greeted them when they walked in the door of the pregnancy center.

“How may I help you?” she asked with a warm smile. Aislin tried to hide behind John and Cera. Neither offered much cover for her five-foot-nine figure.

“Your sign says free pregnancy tests,” Cera began.

“We might need one—er, well, our daughter, anyway,” John finished.

“Okay,” she said pleasantly, looking at Aislin, in black baggy jeans (she’d changed from her skirt in the bathroom at church), hands stuffed into the front pocket of her black hoodie. Aislin’s face, barely visible for the shadow cast across it from the hood, remained emotionless as she stared blankly at the lady. “Come with me.” The lady’s pleasantness never left. Neither did Aislin’s sullenness.

In a moment, Aislin’s world collapsed. With just a few words, Aislin’s life was destroyed. The test came out positive. Aislin refused to accept it. She couldn’t accept it. She was only fourteen; she wasn’t ready to be a mother. She wasn’t sure she could be a mother.

Cera took Aislin in her arms before Aislin even had a chance to open the back seat door. Aislin let Cera hold her, but kept her arms at her sides, fighting tears. Despite her efforts to hold the tears back, they came anyway. She wrapped her arms around Cera and cried.

Aislin stared out the window the whole way home. The glistening tree branches, for some reason, weren’t as beautiful as they typically would be. In fact, nothing was as good or beautiful as it might typically be. But Aislin didn’t cry. She just sat stock-still, staring blankly out the window.

I don’t want to be a mom! she silently yelled to nothing. I can’t be a mom! I can’t! I don't know how! I'm too young!

January 4, 2003

One week later. Aislin still didn’t want to believe she was pregnant with her ex-foster dad's baby. It was almost too much for her to handle.

“What’s wrong?” It was Aaron, once again playing the part of “The Loner-ater”. Aislin looked over at him, catching the concern in his endless blue eyes. Aislin looked down, but remained silent. “C'mon,” Aaron pressed, “I can tell something’s wrong. What is it? Don't worry, I can keep a secret.” Aislin looked around to make sure nobody was within hearing range. Nobody was. She licked her lips, then finally admitted,

“I’m pregnant.” Aaron stared blankly for a moment, then said,

“I don’t want a baby,” Aislin said. “I’m not even fifteen. I mean, I will be in two days, but still. I’m too young.” Aaron just nodded. “Please don’t hate me until you know the full story,” Aislin continued.

“I would never hate you anyway,” Aaron replied. “What happened?” Aislin quickly blurted the story.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron said quietly. “It’s insane the things people will do these days.”

“It’s more than insane,” Aislin said. “It’s—” she bit her tongue just in time. Somehow, she got the feeling it wasn’t exactly appropriate to curse in a church house.

“It’s what?”

“Never mind.”

“What’re you gonna do. . .I mean, with the baby?”

“I was going to get an abortion, but John and Cera—excuse me, Mom and Dad—wouldn’t let me. They said adoption was better, and that they should know.”

“That sounds like a pretty good idea. I mean, there’s gotta be a ton of people out their like John and Cera, who can’t have kids, but desperately want them.”

“I know,” Aislin said, “but I’m not even fifteen. I’m not ready to go through the whole childbirth thing.”

“I know,” Aaron replied, “but have you ever thought about the pain the baby goes through when it’s aborted?” Aislin was silent for a moment, then admitted,

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. But think about it. Don’t you think it’d hurt?” Aislin shrugged.

“I guess so.”

“But, hey,” Aaron said, “if you ever need to talk to someone, just call me.” He tugged a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, scribbled down a number, and handed the paper to her. “Anytime,” he added. “Day or night.” Aislin accepted the paper and said,

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Aaron replied. Then, standing up, he said, “I better go now. Talk to ya later.”

“Bye.”

Aislin wasn’t sure if she could believe it. Somebody actually wanted to be her friend. She wondered if there was an ulterior motive. Nobody was interested in being her friend. Nobody. Unless it was a ploy to get physically involved with her. But yet. . .Something about Aaron told her he was genuine. She sat and stared at the paper.

“You ready to go?” Aislin jumped and turned to see Cera standing behind her. Aislin nodded and stood up, following Cera out the door and to the car.

January 6, 2003

John and Cera had offered to organize a fifteenth birthday party for Aislin, but Aislin had told them she wasn’t really in the mood for a party. That was understandable. So, here she was on the day of her fifteenth birthday, lying on her bed looking up at the ceiling.
This is so lame, she thought to herself. It’s my birthday. I should be having fun. But then, how can I? I can’t think about anything else anymore. I can’t even concentrate on school. Aislin rolled over to her stomach, rested her chin on her folded arms, and stared at a blank wall. Why’d this all have to happen to me? I didn’t want all this.

Aislin shifted her head so she could see the night stand next to her bed. She searched with her eyes until she saw what she was looking for. She grabbed it, sat up, took a hold of one of the blades, and brought it to her arm.

The blood ran down her arm. She traced its path with her eyes. She used a Kleenex to keep it from staining the bed, but never took her eyes off the flowing crimson liquid.

Finally, the bleeding stopped. But the ache inside didn’t. Aislin slid off her bed and headed towards her door. She needed to talk to someone. And she knew just who that someone would be.

“Happy birthday,” Aaron said when he answered the phone. “I was just about to call you.”

“Thanks,” Aislin said. “But it hasn’t been that great.”

“I’m listening,” Aaron said, inviting Aislin to talk. And talk she did. She poured out her heart the first person in her entire life she’d ever had listen to her.

“I’m praying for you, Ash,” Aaron said. It felt funny being called “Ash”. Nobody had called her that since her mother.

“Thanks,” Aislin said, holding back an “I guess”.

Aislin had never had a best friend before. For that matter, she’d never really had a friend before. Until Aaron. He’d been the first person to ever reach out to her, to befriend her. And over time, he became her best friend. Along with the security of having one friend came the confidence to make more friends. And with that network of friends came the support she so desperately needed during her pregnancy, and any other time for that matter. Aislin liked that.

September 6, 2003

“How was school?” Cera asked. Stupid question. It was the same every day for Aislin.

“Same as always,” Aislin replied.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Cera said. She knew that “same as always” meant the same stares—directed at Aislin’s midsection—the same whisperings, the same gossip, the same rumors. The only light in the day was her friends—but she only saw them at lunch.

Aislin didn’t respond. Instead, she headed up the stairs with her backpack. She was getting her homework out when it hit. She gasped and sat down on the bed, clutching her stomach. Panicky, she yelled,

“MOM!”

Cera rushed up the stairs and into Aislin’s room, where she found her nearly doubled over in pain.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned etched on her face.

“I—I’m wet. And—” Aislin groaned loudly as another pain shot through her body. “I hurt. I think—I think the baby’s on its way.”

It didn’t take long after Aislin’s baby was born for Brenda and the couple that would be adopting the baby to arrive. Aislin was kind of disappointed to see them. After all she’d endured, all she’d gone through for this child, it seemed unfair to give him up. Aislin gazed into his beautiful blue eyes.

Why should she give away her precious baby boy? She’d been the one that went through all the pain to bring him into the world. That couple had done nothing. The baby was hers. Always would be. It didn’t matter that she’d opted for open adoption so she could see him every six months, he was her child.

But yet, what kind of life could she give him? What kind of mother would she be, never having time for her child? She’d always either be at school, or work, providing for him. He might as well have no mother at all.

No. She wanted her precious child to have the best. She wanted him to have more than she could ever give him. She wanted him to have a good life, with a mom and a dad who loved him and played with him. Who took him on picnics in the park, who kissed his booboos better, who comforted him when he was afraid or sad.

She wanted him to have everything she never had. He deserved the best. He deserved more than she ever got. And as much as it hurt, she knew it was best for him. Besides, she’d still get to see him, so she wasn’t totally losing him.

With one last goodbye kiss, she gently handed him to the couple, who gratefully took him into their arms, hugging him; kissing his soft little forehead.

Aislin cried. She couldn’t help it. She knew it was best for him, but it was just so hard to give up her baby. Her baby. Would he ever like her? Would he ever understand why she couldn’t keep him? Of course, she’d try to explain when he got old enough, but would he understand?

Cera kneeled by Aislin’s bedside, and hugged her. Aislin hugged back. The woman—Aislin’s baby’s new mother—also kneeled by Aislin’s bedside, gingerly turning the baby where Aislin could see his face.

“You can give him one more kiss if you want,” she offered. Aislin did, and whispered in his ear,

“I love you.”

“We’ll take good care of him, I promise,” the woman said.

“We’d let you see him more than every six months if the law would let us,” the man consoled.

“Now,” the woman said. “What’s his name?” The couple had said that Aislin could name him, if she wanted, and that anything was fine with them. As long as it wasn’t something weird, like Bubblegum. Aislin didn’t hesitate. She’d been planning names for months now.

“Cole. It means warrior in Irish.”

“Cole it is, then.” The woman smiled.

A lot of changes came in Aislin’s life in the next few months. Church became more than just a place to see Aaron and her other church friends. It became important to her; and, four months after Cole’s birth, she was baptized. And she was finally able to forgive her old foster dad. It was as if the shackles that had been holding her down, the shackles binding her to her nightmares, had been cut. The nightmares immediately stopped. She was finally free.

January 15, 2004

The phone rang. Aislin, comfortable in her position on her bed where she was reading a magazine, decided she’d let Cera answer it. A few seconds later, a knock came at her door, and Cera poked her head in.

“It’s for you,” she said. She took it over to Aislin, handed it to her, then exited.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Aaron,” Aislin replied, setting down her magazine, and sitting up, resting her back on the wall behind her bed. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you’d want to go see a movie with me sometime.” Aislin raised an eyebrow, though she knew he couldn’t see it.

“You mean like a date?”

“Yeah.” Aislin giggled, then said,

“You bet.”

“Cool.” After making plans, Aislin hung up. Leaning her head against the wall, she quietly exclaimed,

“Yes!” Perhaps there was still some good in the world. She sprang down the stairs to tell Cera, after which, she anxiously awaited John to come home from work so she could tell him, too.

March 18, 2004

Aislin couldn’t believe how fast Cole grew.

I guess they grow faster when you don’t see them all the time, she decided. Already he was six months old. He was jabbering all the time, and trying to crawl. And his grin was absolutely adorable, with the two little teeth in the front.

Aislin was excited for this first visit, but she wasn’t prepared for it to hurt like this. Her baby boy had no idea who she was, and preferred more to be held by his adoptive mom than Aislin. However, she did get to hold him for a little bit without him getting cranky. She thanked God for that. He was such a precious little boy—her little boy. She wanted so desperately for him to like her.

April 20, 2004

“Aislin,” Aaron said, looking at her over the café table.

“What?” Aislin asked, probing Aaron with her eyes. She sensed he had something to tell her she wouldn’t like. She was right.

“I don’t think you’re going to like this,” Aaron began. Aislin waited. “But. . .I’m moving to Detroit.”

“You mean, like Michigan?” Aislin asked, as if there might possibly be a Detroit twenty minutes from Simonton. Which wasn’t a bad thought, if Aaron really was moving to Detroit.

“Yeah,” Aaron replied. “But it doesn’t mean I’m breaking up with you. I know long distance relationships don’t always work out, but I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure ours does. I’ll buy a calling card and call you every day, if you want, and—”

“Why?” Aislin interrupted. “I mean, you’re only nineteen. You’re barely old enough to be moving across town from your parents, let alone to another state.” Aaron nodded, understanding her drift.

“I know. But I feel God’s calling me to move there. Gotta do His will, you know.” Aislin, defeated, hung her head, and said quietly,

“I know.”

June 16, 2004

Aislin wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad when John and Cera announced that they were moving to Detroit. She was happy because of Aaron having just moved there a couple of months before. On the other hand, all her friends were here in Simonton. But, she figured that moving to Michigan was better than moving somewhere else, since there was somebody she knew in Michigan.

“That’s awesome!” exclaimed Aaron when Aislin told him that her family was moving to Michigan.

“Yeah,” Aislin said. “It’ll be really nice to live close to you again. But I’m gonna miss my friends here.”

“Bring them along,” Aaron said. The two laughed.

“Another thing I'm not going to like is how far it is there from the nearest place to mountain bike,” Aislin said.

“Yeah, that's a pain. For me and for you.” After a slight pause, Aaron asked, “So, why are you moving?”

“Dad got a job transfer,” Aislin informed him.

“I see.”

“Aislin!” Aislin’s mother, Cera hollered. “Are you packing?”

“I’m on the phone!” Aislin hollered back.

“Yeah, I know that,” Aaron said.

“Well, get off the phone and get packing!” Cera told Aislin.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aislin said to Aaron. “I’ve gotta go. Mom wants me to pack.”

“I thought you were packing. You said earlier that you were,” Aaron commented.

“I was, but somewhere along the lines, I got more into the conversation than the packing.”

Aaron chuckled, then said,

“Well, then, I guess I’ll let you go. Can’t wait to see you again.”

“Yeah.” They said their goodbyes, and Aislin got back to packing.

Aislin was relieved an hour later, to see her best friend, Chloe, walk through her bedroom door.

“Hey!” Aislin greeted, grinning.

“Hey,” Chloe replied. “I thought you might need some help packing.”

“Aislin smiled at her friend’s kindness, thanked her, and the two started on the packing together.

Aislin discovered that packing was a whole lot more fun, and less time consuming with Chloe helping her. They were laughing so much that Cera had to periodically come and check to see if they were still packing. Every time, they were.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Aislin told Chloe.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Chloe said. “But at least you’ll be close to Aaron.”

Aislin smiled at the thought and said,

“I know.”

“But, hey, I might get to see you really soon after you move,” Chloe said. “And Rae too.” Rae is both Chloe and Aislin’s friend.

“Really?” Aislin asked. Chloe nodded, and said,

“Yeah. We have a program for summer school in Detroit soon, so we’ll be there. Maybe we can see you while we’re there.”

“That’d be great.”

“Wow. We’re done already?” Chloe said in surprise. Aislin looked around, and said,

“Huh. I guess so.”

“That went fast,” Chloe commented.

“Much faster than it was before,” Aislin said.

“Probably because we were having fun while we did it,” Chloe reasoned.

“Probably.”

June 17, 2004

Detroit, Michigan

“So this is the house?” Aislin said as the family pulled into a driveway.

“Yup,” replied John, Aislin’s dad. Aislin had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. . .well, the exterior looks, anyway.

The house was a two story, painted blue. The original color was obviously white because the blue was peeling (not badly though), and beneath was white coloring.

“So, how am I gonna get my car here?” Aislin inquired as she and her parents headed toward the door, each carrying something.

Aislin had come with her parents to help drive, because the journey was long.

“We may have to make another trip,” said Cera.

“That’s not very convenient,” Aislin said.

“No, it’s not, but it’s the only way I can think of.”

Aislin got another idea, but lost it as she walked through the door. She looked around her new home, taking in her surroundings.

It was on her second trip back to the moving van that she remembered her idea. She met her dad on her way back to the house. She told him her idea.

“Dad, I got an idea.”

“What?”

Aislin set her heavy box down, then told him her idea.

“You and Mom can stay here, and maybe do some unpacking—”

“And you go back to Indiana by yourself?” John said, disapprovingly.

“I wasn’t done yet,” Aislin said impatiently, then proceeded to tell him the rest of her idea.

“Anyway, as I was saying, you and Mom can stay here, and Aaron and I can go back to Indiana and get my car.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you and Aaron taking that long of a trip. . .alone,” John said.

“C’mon, Dad,” Aislin begged. “What do you think we’re gonna do while driving?”

“How am I to know that driving is all you’re going to do?”

“Really, Dad. All we’ll do is drive, I promise. Don’t you trust us?”

“Aislin, honey. . .I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Dad, both Aaron and I have the same standards, and we’re both going to keep them.”

John sighed, then said,

“How will you get there?”

“We can take his pickup.”

“Who will take his pickup back?”

“Chloe and Rae have some summer school program thing here. They could take the bus, but it’s okay if they drive. They can drive one vehicle, and Aaron and I can drive the other.”

“Are you sure Aaron will even want go?” John asked, obviously trying to find some way to keep Aislin from going with Aaron. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Aaron, he really did like him, he just couldn’t help but worry. . .about both of them.

“Sure. He’s always willing to help anybody that needs it,” Aislin replied.

Aislin was right. Aaron seemed to be more than happy to accompany Aislin when she called and asked him.

June 18, 2004

It was the next day when Aaron pulled up to the house. Aislin was waiting on the step, and ran to meet him. They hugged, and Aislin felt a blush rise to her cheeks when Aaron planted a firm kiss on her lips.

“Hey,” Aaron said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Aislin said.

“You ready to go?”

“Yup.”

“Alrighty then, let’s go.”

June 20, 2004

“So, how’d the trip go?” John asked as Aislin walked through the door, two days later.

“Great,” replied Aislin.

“Good,” said John, in his “is there more?” tone.

“We just drove, Dad,” Aislin assured him. “As for sleeping arrangements, if that’s what you’re worried about, I slept on the couch at Chloe’s—upstairs, and Aaron slept in the family room—downstairs.”

“All right,” said John, going back to reading the newspaper he was reading.

“How did work go?” Aislin asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good,” John said. “Really good. In fact, I got a promotion.”

September 2, 2004

Hurry up, Aislin!” Cera called up the stairs. “You don’t want to be late for your first day of school!”

“I’m coming!” Aislin called back, as she raced down the stairs.

“See you after school,” Cera said as Aislin raced toward the door.

“Okay. Bye,” Aislin replied, rushing out. A few seconds later, she was back in. “Lunch money,” she explained as she hurried back up the stairs. In seconds, she was again out the door.

Aislin looked around the huge new school, feeling a bit lost. Looking back at her map, she tried to figure out where she was, and where she needed to be. She was still confused. She decided to just start walking, and hoped she wouldn’t get lost. . .er, any more lost. She turned a few corners, headed down new hallways, and only succeeded in confusing herself even more. She had no idea where she was, other than inside the strange school building in Michigan.

“Hi,” said a quiet voice from behind her. She jumped, and whirled around. There stood a short, brown-haired girl. She had soft brown eyes, and a friendly smile.

“Oh, hi,” Aislin said, forcing a smile, and hoping it didn’t look fake (there isn’t much to smile about when you’re new to a school, have no friends, and are lost).

“You look new,” said the girl.

“I am.”

“Lost?”

“You might say that.”

“I’ll show you around,” offered the girl. This time Aislin’s smile was real, as she said,

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” said the girl.

“What’s your name?” Aislin asked.

“Rachel,” replied the girl. “Yours?”

“Aislin.”

September 11, 2004

“Hey, Aislin,” Rachel said, walking quickly to catch up with Aislin in the school hall.

“Hey, Rachel,” Aislin replied, stopping so Rachel could catch up.

“That was a great poem you wrote today for the anniversary of September eleventh,” Rachel complimented.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to come to my sleepover next week?” Aislin calculated, then asked,

“What day?”

“Friday, the eighteenth.”

“I wish I could,” Aislin said, “but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Aislin hesitated then said,

“I have to go see my baby.” Rachel looked at Aislin with a look of great puzzlement, and said,

“Huh?”

“I—I was raped when I was fourteen, and I got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption, but it’s an open adoption, so I get to go visit him every six months, and I get pictures in the times I can’t visit him.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “I never knew.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Do you have a picture with you?”

“Sure do.” Aislin pulled out her wallet, opened it, and withdrew a picture, turning it so Rachel could see.

“Awww,” Rachel cooed. “What’s his name?”

“Cole.”

“He’s so cute. How old?”

“He was nine months when the picture was taken, but he’s a year old now.”

“Well, by all means, go see him. I’ll have another sleepover another time, and I’ll make sure it’s when you can come.”

“Thanks.”

September 18, 2004

Simonton, Indiana

Cole was more outgoing this time. He let Aislin hold him longer this time, and didn’t mind as much being alone in a room with her. It was an improvement Aislin was grateful for. But as for cuddling
. . .well, he wasn’t quite ready for that, yet.

He was now a year old, and taking his first toddling steps. His grin now contained several more teeth than it had, and Aislin loved to see it.

January 6, 2005

Detroit, Michigan

Rachel and Aislin walked toward the parking lot together.

“So, finally seventeen, huh?” Rachel said as they walked.

“Yup, and don’t forget about the party,” Aislin said.

“How could I?”

Unbeknownst to the girls, however, there would be no party. Their plans were to all change in an instant, and Aislin’s life would be turned upside-down. . .

Aislin was quite a ways behind her parents’ car when they stopped at the stop sign. She was still a ways behind them when they started moving again. But not far enough to not see it. The black car, speeding towards them. At first she wasn’t worried. It had a stop sign, and surely it would stop. However, when it didn’t even slow down, Aislin started to get worried. Didn’t the driver see his stop sign? The answer was obvious. He didn’t.

Aislin’s eyes widened in horror as the black car slammed into her parents’, broadside. She slammed on her brakes, to keep from becoming part of the twisted pile of burning metal. No doubt there would be no survivors.

Aislin was frozen at first. She couldn’t get any part of her body to work. Finally, with shaky hands, she grabbed her cell phone, and tried to dial 9-1-1. She dropped the phone a few times, hit a few wrong numbers, but she finally got it done. She had about as much trouble telling the operator what happened.

“M-m-my. . .my,” she stammered, hardly able to talk through the tears.

“It’s okay, just relax,” said the operator, soothingly.

It’s okay? Aislin thought. It’s okay! How can she say that?! It’s not okay!

“Now,” said the operator, who assumed, from Aislin’s silence, that she’d been trying to calm down. “Try again to tell me what happened.”

“My p-parents,” Aislin managed to croak.

“Yes? What’s wrong with your parents?” the operator said, still in a soothing voice.

“They—they’re—they’re dead!” she finally managed.

“Are you sure?” the operator said. “Are they breathing? Do they have a pulse? Either one?”

“I don’t know!” Aislin wailed.

“Would you check for me?”

“I can’t get to them!”

“Why not?”

“The fire! They’re in the fire!” Aislin was barely aware she wasn’t making sense to the operator.

“Your house caught on fire?” the operator asked.

“No! Car!” Aislin was so distressed she could hardly make any sense.

“Their car caught on fire?”

“Wreck! They—they were—br-broadsided!” Aislin was bawling.

“Can you tell me where you are?” Aislin didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know anything anymore. Just that her parents were burning, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Just try to calm down,” the operator said, sensing that Aislin couldn’t concentrate enough to know where she was. “Do you see any street signs?” Aislin took a long, choppy breath. Of course. They were at an intersection. There had to be street signs. It was the first logical thought she’d had since the accident. She spotted a sign. It read, “Second Street”. It was indicating the street she was on. The sign just below it said, “Cottonwood Road”.

“I-I’m near th-the corner of S-second an-and C-co-ottonw-wood.”

“All right, I’ll send an ambulance and a fire truck right away.”

Though she shared a room with Rachel, Aislin still felt alone. She’d never felt so alone in her life. All Rachel’s attempts to comfort her failed miserably. Aislin didn’t even feel like biking, which was unusual for Aislin.

Earlier that day, the paramedics had pronounced everyone involved in the accident dead on arrival. That included Aislin’s parents. Rachel, living closer to school than Aislin, had arrived home while Aislin was still on her way. When she walked in, her mother was watching the live coverage of the accident. When the reporters mentioned Aislin’s name, Rachel was immediately riveted. She hoped against hope that Aislin wasn’t part of that horrible heap of twisted, sizzling metal the firefighters were pulling charred bodies out of. She was relieved when the reporter said that Aislin was the one that reported the accident.

Good, she thought, that means she wasn’t in it. But soon, her hopes were diminished when the reporter announced the names of two of the people who were in the accident—John and Sarah Norway—who were declared dead on arrival. Oh, no, Rachel thought with horror, that’s Aislin’s parents!

The reporter would not name the third person, because, by policy, the family of victims of such things were to know before the public. Since Aislin was John and Cera’s only living relative, they announced their names on the news.

What’s Aislin going to do? Rachel thought. She’s not a legal adult yet, so the state wouldn’t let her live by herself. . .she has no living relatives. . .Wait a minute! A thought suddenly occurred to Rachel. “Mom,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Yes, honey?” her mother said.

“John and Cera Norway—their the parents of my friend Aislin—the one that reported the accident.” Rachel’s mother turned to face her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Now, since she has no living relatives, she’ll probably have to live in social services again. . .unless. . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she can live with us. At least for a little while.” Rachel’s mom nodded.

“That might be possible.”

So there she was. Sitting on the trundle bed in the dark of Rachel’s bedroom, sobbing quietly. Rachel had long since given up attempts to comfort her, and went to sleep. But Aislin didn’t sleep. How could she? She just sat and sobbed, her insides feeling like the room around her—dark. She felt cold, alone, abandoned. She knew she wasn’t supposed to question God, but she had to wonder why this happened. And why on her birthday? It wasn’t fair.

And that’s how Aislin fell asleep—sobbing, with feelings of hopelessness, abandonment, and despair.

January 7, 2005

Aislin,” a voice filtered through Aislin’s sleep. It hadn’t been easy, but Aislin did get to sleep. Now she didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t want to face the world. She didn’t want to face life. “Aislin, wake up,” said the voice, which Aislin now recognized as Rachel’s. Aislin rolled over with a groan, and stuck her head under her pillow. Rachel took the pillow from Aislin. “It’s almost ten o’ clock,” Rachel persisted.

“I don’t want to,” Aislin mumbled. She felt Rachel sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” she said softly. “But none of this is going to go away by staying in bed all day.” She was right, of course. Aislin knew it. With a sigh, Aislin rolled out of bed. “Mom fixed blueberry pancakes for breakfast. I told her that was your favorite.” Aislin had to appreciate the effort, but it didn’t really help. She didn’t think anything would. Still, her stomach was growling, so she hoisted herself off the edge of the bed, and trudged after Rachel out of the room and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Aislin, Rachel,” Rachel’s mother said when the girls came into the kitchen. Aislin wouldn’t exactly define the morning as “good”, but she mumbled a “good morning” to Rachel’s mom anyway.

Rachel’s mom set a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of Aislin, then asked if she’d like orange juice or apple juice. Aislin chose orange. Rachel’s mom poured Aislin a glass of orange juice and set it in front of her.

After he got off work, Aaron came by Rachel’s to see Aislin again. He’d also been watching the news the day before, and as soon as he could locate Aislin, he was there with her.

Aislin smiled weakly when he walked in.

“Hey,” he said as he plopped down next to Aislin on the couch, where she was seated.

“Hey,” Aislin replied as Aaron gently hugged her.

“How’re you doing?” Aislin shrugged, trying to hold in the tears that were fighting to pour down her cheeks. She hated crying, and did it as little as she possibly could. Aaron, his arm still around Aislin, noticed Aislin’s struggle not to cry.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just let it all out.” And she did. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and cried. She couldn’t help it. It kind of felt good to get it all out.

“Feel better now?” Aaron asked when Aislin’s crying stopped.

“I guess. . .considering,” Aislin replied. He hugged her.

“I know it’s hard,” he said. “Just give it time and prayer. Especially the latter. And know I’m praying for you.”

“Thanks, Aaron,” Aislin said.

January 17, 2005

“Hey.” Aislin jumped, looking to see who had spoken. It was Aaron. He was standing beside the couch she was laying on, looking down at her, so that, from her angle, he was upside-down.

“Hi,” Aislin replied.

“You weren’t at church today,” Aaron commented. “Or last week. Why?” Aislin shrugged, looking back at the TV she was watching. Apparently, Aaron wasn’t content with a shrug. “Aislin,” he said, “answer me.”

“I just. . .didn’t want to,” she said.

At least she was honest, Aaron thought. Out loud, he said, “Why not?”

“I just. . .didn’t. Okay?” Aaron wanted to press the issue further, but decided he’d better not. He could tell that Aislin didn’t want to talk about her reasons. Still, he thought he’d let her know that if she ever did want to talk, he’d listen.

“You don’t have to tell me, at least not now. But if you ever decide to, or ever just need to talk, I’m always available. Day or night.”

“Okay,” Aislin said, still not looking at Aaron.

“You want me to leave now, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” It hurt a little, but Aaron knew she needed her space. So he left.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Aaron noticed that he and Aislin seemed to be drifting apart. They seemed to be more like friends than anything. Aislin never wanted to talk to him anymore. She didn’t seem to want to hang out with him either. She wouldn’t tell him why, nor would she tell him why she wasn’t going to church. And then, finally, she made it official. . .

January 31, 2005

There was a knock on Aaron’s door. He marked his spot in the Bible he was reading, and made his way through piles of junk in his room (he figured, since he was living on his own, he didn’t have to clean his room), out the bedroom door, and to the front door. He opened the door and found Aislin standing there. This greatly surprised Aaron. Not once in two weeks had Aislin made an attempt to visit him (not that she would do her visiting inside, mind you), or even call him. Now, here she was, standing on his doorstep. After a few moments of silence, Aaron said,

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to tell you,” Aislin started. Aaron’s hopes soared. She was going to tell him what was up! “That I. . .don’t want to see you anymore.” That took a few moments to sink in. When it did, Aaron’s hopes crashed. For that matter, everything inside him crashed. Aislin was the most important thing to him (aside from God). How could she just break up with him?

Aaron swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. And he wasn’t sure he could talk without his voice shaking, anyway. Finally, he was able to say,

“Oh.” It sounded stupid, but it was all he could say. And then Aislin was gone. She walked down the porch steps, to her car, and drove off. Only then did Aaron realize she hadn’t even said goodbye.

Aaron shut the door, took a few steps, and collapsed on the couch. And he did what he hadn’t done in a long, long time. What everybody tried to tell him that real men never did (which wasn’t really true, but that's what they said). He cried.

The sobs took hold of him, and squeezed. Much as he tried, he couldn’t prevent the gut-wrenching sobs. Finally, he gave up trying to quit crying, and just let it all out. He lost track of the time, not that he really cared anyway. And he did the only thing he knew to do to bring himself comfort: he prayed.

Peace swept over him, and he was finally able to relax. Once relaxed, he got up, went back to his room, and resumed his Bible study. He tried not to think of Aislin.

Since Rachel’s parents weren’t licensed foster parents, Aislin was only allowed to stay with them until a licensed couple could take her in. Aislin didn’t have to move far, as the couple that took her in lived about three miles from Rachel.

February 7, 2005

The little dog tugged at the leash, anxious to explore every nook and cranny of the park. Aaron kept his ground, though. It wasn’t the best idea to let a rambunctious little dog loose in a park.

Aaron had been driving home from work when he’d seen a sign in front of a grocery store, advertising a free one-year-old Jack Russell Terrier. He’d always loved dogs, and a Jack Russell was perfect for an apartment, being a small breed. What could be better? And since it was free. . .

So, there he was, walking his new dog (who’s name was Brandy) through the park. As he was walking, he spotted a couple seated (rather closely) on a bench. They didn’t notice him; they were in a world of their own. He didn’t pay much attention to them, either. It wasn’t uncommon to find lovebirds on benches in parks. That is, he didn’t pay much attention to them until he realized who one of them was.

It was Aislin. He had no idea who the tall blond jerk was—the one with his arm around Aislin.

How can this be? Aaron thought. It’s only been a week since she broke up with me. Yet, there she was. With someone Aaron didn’t know, and already didn’t like. Not just because he’d stolen Aislin, but because
. . .well, he just got a bad feeling about the guy. And his intuition was hardly ever wrong.

Much as Aaron would’ve liked to have broken them up, he chose to continue his walk, and pretend he never even noticed them. However, he couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread that gnawed at him. Something bad was going to happen to Aislin, and it would involve that blond guy. He just knew it. Only problem was, he didn’t know what, and he didn’t know when. He just knew it was going to happen. All he could do was pray.

And pray, he did. Long and hard, becoming totally oblivious of the beautiful winter day, the glistening snow, and all the singing winter birds. He was even barely aware of Brandy tugging at her leash. None of that mattered now.

Aaron missed Aislin. He hadn’t seen her since that day in the park. He missed the old days—when she’d been going to church. He missed the relationship they’d had, and the way she was always there for him and he was always there for her. How could she have just dumped him like that, after all he’d done for her, both before and after her parents died?

Still, he prayed for her. Every day. He may not have been happy with her choices, especially the one about the blond guy, but he still loved her—in more than one way. He loved her as a friend. He loved her as a girlfriend. And he loved her in a Godly way.

So far, nothing had happened to her. Not that he knew of, anyway. But judging from the way the bad feeling he got in the park never eased, he knew something was going to happen.

March 5, 2005

Aislin had never been to a party like this before. But she liked Jake. After all, he was tall, blond, athletic, the whole nine yards. So, when he asked her to go with him, she, without a second thought, said yes. Now, here she was, in somebody’s (rather large) home, with a bunch of people she didn’t know (a few, though, she’d seen in the halls at school), most of which were drunk. Or at least well on their way to it. Jake was one of the former. Aislin had taken a few drinks from Jake’s first (or maybe it was his second?) can of beer, but she didn’t accept too much. She didn’t know who’d drive them home if they were both drunk. Besides, it tasted awful. She didn’t decline when Jake offered her some pot, either.

After all, she thought, I don’t want to lose Jake. Somewhere deep inside her, something told her she should leave, that this wasn’t a good idea. But she ignored it. She’d had this feeling a lot about the things she did, but she’d learned to silence it, and it’d been growing quieter each time. Now, it was barely noticeable.

It was almost three o’ clock by the time Aislin and Jake left the party. Aislin, of course, was driving. Jake was passed out in the passenger’s seat. After dropping the barely-conscious and extremely drunk Jake, and his jeep, off at Jake’s house, Aislin walked next door, to her house. Her new foster parents hadn’t even noticed she was gone.

March 18, 2005

Detroit, Michigan

Cole was now eighteen months old, and becoming even more outgoing than before. He ran around the house with Aislin, showing her his toys, and urging her to play with him, which she gladly did. He was definitely warming up to her.

March 20, 2005

Simonton, Indiana

Jake was drunk again. Aislin had once again driven him home. Though he wasn’t as drunk as he was last time, he was still too drunk to drive.

“Hey,” he said, when Aislin pulled up in his driveway. “Come inside real quick. I wanna show you something.”

“Okay,” Aislin replied. She stepped out of the car, and followed Jake inside. She didn’t think much about nobody being around, she figured they were all in bed. After all, it was pretty late. . .or, rather, early. What she didn’t know was that Jake’s parents were actually out of town for a week.

The feeling hit Aaron even stronger than before. It awoke him from a deep sleep. Something bad was in the making. It wouldn’t be long before it happened. He slid out of bed, kneeled at his bedside and prayed. Who cared about sleep when Aislin was in danger?

“This way,” Jake said, heading upstairs. Aislin followed. Aislin started to get a bit suspicious when Jake headed into his room, but followed anyway. It was only when he closed and locked the door that she began to get worried.

The feeling hadn’t yet let up. Aaron kept praying. He didn’t know what else to do, though he wished there was something.

“What are you doing?” she asked. His only answer was a kiss to her lips. “What are you doing?” she repeated. Jake again kissed her, this time longer. Aislin tried to turn her head where he couldn’t, but he held her in place. Finally, he looked at her, and nodded toward his bed. Sure, Aislin liked Jake (or she thought she did), but not that much. She shook her head, and said,

“No.” She tried to back away, but Jake grabbed a hold of her. He pulled her toward his bed. Aislin struggled and resisted, but Jake was a whole lot stronger than she was. She was almost to the bed.

WHOOSH!

The air rushed out of Jake’s lungs as Aislin’s knee rammed into his gut. He was still doubled over, not near recovered from the knee in his stomach when a blow came to the side of his face. He reeled, and his head smacked the corner of his dresser. He fell to the floor, unconscious. Aislin didn’t stick around to see if he was okay. For that matter, she kind of hoped he wasn’t. She’d already been through this once, she wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Aislin ran. Out the bedroom door (only pausing long enough to unlock the door), down the stairs, out the front door, and to her house, crying the whole way.

Finally, the feeling left. But Aaron was far from peaceful. Why he wasn’t feeling peace, he didn’t know. But at least the feeling was gone. He crawled back into bed and tried to sleep.

Aislin sat on her bed, quivering and crying. How could Jake do such a thing? One thing was for sure, their relationship was over.
Why did I even break up with Aaron in the first place? she thought. Aaron would’ve never done something like that. Though she was asking herself why she broke up with Aaron, deep down, she knew the answer. You know why you did that, she told herself. Because he wouldn’t be happy with the things you were doing. You shouldn’t have even done the things you did. Look where it got you. Oh, Lord, please forgive me. Please.

March 21, 2005

Aislin sat on the porch swing, still thinking about the previous night (or morning), and crying. That’s where Aaron (and Brandy) found her.

Uh-oh, he thought. Something did happen. Aislin didn’t notice Aaron and the little dog approaching. She jumped when Aaron said,

“Hey.” She quickly swiped at her tears, and said,

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked. Aislin looked away. “I know something happened,” Aaron said. “I’ve had a feeling for a long time that something bad was going to happen to you. Last night it was stronger than it’d ever been. What happened?” Aislin remained silent. Aaron tied Brandy’s leach to a column, then sat down beside Aislin, and said, “You can talk to me, Aislin. It’s still me. Remember me?”

“I know,” Aislin said, “and I used to be able to talk to you. But now. . .now I can’t.”

“Why not?” He ignored Brandy’s anxious whining to be free.

“You may not have changed, Aaron, but I have. It’s not so easy to talk to you now.”

“I’ll listen, even if you have changed. You don’t have to, but I would like to hear what happened.”

“I’m not so sure you’ll like it, but. . .” Aislin sighed. “Alright.” And she told Aaron what had happened. Aaron listened in stunned silence. Aislin was crying again. Out of habit, Aaron put his arm around her to try to comfort her. Aislin looked through her tears at his arm. That was when Aaron realized he had his arm around her.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, withdrawing his arm. “I forgot we’d—” Aislin cut him off with a shake of her head.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I ever broke up with you.”

“Does that mean—” Aaron began. Aislin nodded.

“Yeah. I want to get back together.” Aaron couldn’t help but to hug her. She hugged back.

“Would you mind answering a few questions?” Aaron asked after a while.

“What?” Aislin asked.

“Why did you stop going to church? Why did you start partying and stuff?”

“I—I thought God had abandoned me,” Aislin said, “so I. . .abandoned Him.”

“But you know God will never abandon you,” Aaron said. “Don’t you?”

“I did,” Aislin replied. “I guess I forgot. I just couldn’t understand why He took my parents from me.”

“We may never know that,” Aaron said softly. “We may never know.”

Why’d you start cutting again?” Aaron asked after a few moments of silence. Complete silence, actually, since Brandy had become content with lying down and taking a nap.

“Because I hurt. That was a way I could get my mind off my emotional pain. And, trust me, I’d do anything to get rid of it.” For some reason, the last statement kind of spooked Aaron. He hoped she didn’t mean anything, literally.

March 29, 2005

Jake was sentenced to ten years in prison, on account of attempted rape. It would have been more, had he actually succeeded, but since he didn’t, it was ten years. Aislin wished it was more, but figured ten years was better than nothing.

March 30, 2005

“You doing okay?” Aaron asked Aislin, the day after the trial. The two were sitting on the porch swing, watching the sunset. Aislin nodded, and said,

“I will be.” Aaron reached over, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t let go.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked. He’d sensed that not everything was okay. Aislin looked down, and, after a hesitation, told Aaron,

“I—I’m being placed in another foster home,” she told him. “In Colorado. We probably won’t get to see each other for a long time.” Aaron didn’t like the sounds of this. Aislin couldn’t move—not now. She needed him; she was going through a lot. The beginnings of an idea occurred to him.

It’s not the most logical idea, he thought about it, but it’s not totally far out.

“Where in Colorado?” he asked.

“Grand Junction,” Aislin replied.

“When?”

“As soon as I’m packed.”

March 31, 2005

“That’s crazy,” Aislin told Aaron when he proposed his idea to her, as he helped her pack. “You can’t move to Grand Junction! You have a job, and. . .and. . .well, it's just. . .crazy.”

“You’re saying you don’t want me living near you?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just. . .your life is here.”

“It can be there, too. You need somebody to be there for you, Aislin. Now, more than ever. I can get a new job there. In fact, I’ve already been looking. And I’ve got a couple houses in mind, too.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

“You’re welcome.”

April 4, 2005

Grand Junction, Colorado

“Where do you want this?” Aislin asked Aaron, as she held up a clock. She and her foster brother and sister, Jada and Jadan (yes, they were twins), were helping Aaron move into his new house. Aislin had basically finished moving in the day before, with the exception of a few unpacked boxes.

“Uh. . .” Aaron said, thinking. “Hang it up over there.” He pointed at a spot on the living room wall. “I’ll get you a hook and a hammer.” He sat down an alarm clock and, stepping over Brandy, made his way through a box. He dug through it for a hook and a hammer. Finally, at the bottom of the box, he found what he was looking for. He handed the hook and the hammer to Aislin, and she hung the clock up in the indicated location. The banging set Brandy off barking.

“Brandy!” Aaron said, scowling at the dog. “Be quiet!” Brandy looked down, tail between her legs, as if to say sorry, then she quietly padded to her bed and flopped down.

“What about this?” Jadan asked, holding up a cordless telephone and its base. Aaron told him where to set it.

“Well,” said Aaron, stretching, “that’s not all of it, but it’s most, and I think I can get the rest myself.” Everybody else stretched as well. “Thanks, you guys, for helping.”

“No problem,” Jada and Jadan chorused. Aislin shrugged and said,

“You did it for me.” After a pause, she said, “Anybody wanna go biking?”

“Sure,” Aaron replied without hesitation.

“I didn’t finish my homework,” Jadan said.

“I’m not really into biking,” Jada told them. Aislin shrugged, and said,

“Okay, then.”

After Jada and Jadan had left, Aaron loaded up his bike into the back of his pickup, then swung by Aislin’s (which was just around the corner and down the street a bit), and loaded up hers as well. While he was doing that, Aislin told her new foster parents where she was going.

Brandy had wanted to go, so Aaron put her in the back of the pickup too, but didn’t intend to let her out of the pickup while they were biking, so she wouldn’t get lost.

“You do know how to get to the trail, don’t you?” Aislin asked as she hopped into Aaron’s pickup, and fastened her seat belt. Aaron fastened his as well.

“Uh. . .I think so,” he replied. He pulled a map off the dashboard, unfolded it, and looked at it. “The map doesn’t actually have the trail on it, but it has the general vicinity, so I should be able to find it.”

And he did, without a lot of trouble. After making sure Brandy’s leash was secured to the pickup hitch (Aaron decided he’d at least let Brandy be on the ground), the two unloaded their bikes, and started off. Since neither knew the trail, both took it slowly and carefully, to avoid coming across an unexpected pothole or something else that might cause them to wreck. The ground offered little traction and was constantly curving. Definitely not for beginners.

“Well, that was fun,” Aaron commented, a bit breathlessly, as he and Aislin returned to his pickup. Aislin braked to a stop beside him and said, also breathlessly,

“Sure was.” Brandy wagged her tail excitedly.

The couple rested for a while, chugging water from water bottles and petting Brandy, then Aaron loaded up the bikes and his dog.

Aaron stopped the pickup in front of Aislin’s house, but before she could get out, he said,

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” Aislin asked.

“I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner tomorrow.”

“Sure. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“I know.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

“A’ight. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Okay.”

April 5, 2005

“Hey, um, I’m going out with Aaron tonight,” Aislin told her foster mother. “That okay?”

“Yeah,” said her foster mother.

“’Kay, thanks.”

“Where you getting ready to go?” Jada asked Aislin later that day, as Aislin was preparing for her date with Aaron.

“Out with Aaron,” Aislin replied, as she finished up her hair.

“Oh. I was hoping you could help me with a problem on my math homework,” Jada said. Aislin looked at her watch, and said,

“Well, I’m ready now, and he won’t be here for another thirty minutes, so I probably have time to help you.” Jada smiled and said,

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Make sense now?” Aislin asked, after explaining the math problem to Jada.

“Yeah, it does,” Jada said. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Aislin said, just as the doorbell rang. “Ah, that must be Aaron.”

“See ya later, Aislin,” Jada said.

“See ya.”

“Have fun.”

“You bet I will.” Aislin smiled a crooked smile, then rushed to the door.

“Hey,” Aaron greeted, when Aislin opened the door.

“Hi,” Aislin said, hugging Aaron.

“Ya ready?” Aaron said, as he hugged back.

“Yup.”

November 23, 2005

The neon orange color of the flyer, naturally, caught Aislin’s attention. But what interested her even more were the words on the flyer. She picked it up from its place on the top of the stack beside the school gym doors. It advertised a benefit mountain bike race. The money from the entry fees would go to cancer victims. Aislin was interested. Having the big heart she had, as well as the passion for mountain biking she had, she couldn’t help but to be interested. Not only would it be fun, the money she paid to enter would go to a good cause. Little did she know, however, she would never complete the race. . .

November 24, 2005

Finally. School was over for the day. Aislin sure was getting tired of school. She’d be good and ready for graduation the following May. For that matter, she was already good and ready for it. There was just the problem of not having finished all her work yet. As she walked out the school door, she pondered what her graduation would be like, what it would feel like receiving her diploma.

“Hey, Aislin!” came a voice behind her. Aislin turned around to see Aaron waving to her through the open window of his prized 1978 Dodge pickup.

Aislin smiled and headed toward Aaron’s pickup. Since Aislin’s prized vehicle, a 1980 BMW, was in the shop (due to a minor fender-bender—nothing very serious), Aaron was picking her up from school. Of course, she could’ve taken the bus, but she hated taking the bus. Having to take it to school was bad enough (Aaron was already at work by the time it was time for Aislin to head to school). No thanks, she’d rather ride with her incredibly mature and sweet boyfriend than with incredibly immature and annoying freshmen and sophomores.

“You sure you don’t mind picking me up?” she asked as she buckled her seat belt.

“Of course not,” he said. After a pause, he asked, “Looking forward to your eighteenth birthday?”

“I guess. Not as much as graduation, though,” she replied.

“Well, I’ve got something special planned for you for your birthday,” said Aaron, pulling out of the school parking lot and onto the road. Aislin knew he was trying to get her mind off her parents.

As he stopped at a red light, Aaron grabbed Aislin’s hand and squeezed. Aislin looked at him. He had that look in his eyes—the one that said he knew what you were thinking. The one that said he felt for you.

“I know you miss your parents,” he said. “But you know you will see them again. Don’t you?” Aislin nodded. “And I know that right now, that doesn’t really help. Just give it time. Time and prayer. Foremost, prayer.” The words seemed so familiar. She knew she should take his advice; the last time she didn’t, things didn’t go too well. He gave her hand another squeeze. “And always remember, if you need somebody to talk to—or a shoulder to cry on—I’m always here. Always.” He’d told her that a dozen times before, but she always liked to hear it. She smiled. She sure did appreciate this guy.

The light changed, and Aaron shifted gears and started off. Aislin forced her thoughts from her parents and the horrible wreck to more pleasant thoughts. What was it Aaron had said? He had something special planned? She forced herself to ponder what it could be.

Knowing Aaron, she thought to herself, it could be anything. All I know is it’s going to be good. With Aaron, it always is.

“So,” Aaron said, turning onto the street that would lead them to Aislin’s house. “You enter that mountain bike race?”

“Yeah, I did,” Aislin answered. “I registered today.”

“I was going to register today,” Aaron informed her. “I saw an ad for it in the newspaper.”

“Better hurry up,” she said, “it starts tomorrow.” Aaron nodded.

“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry. I won’t miss out.”

November 25, 2005

“Hey, there you are,” Aaron’s voice came from behind Aislin. Aislin turned to face him. “I was looking for you.”

It was the next day, the day of the mountain bike race. Aaron and Aislin were waiting for the start of the race.

“I was wondering where you were, too,” Aislin said, bending down to check her tires. They were fully aired.

“We’d better get to the starting line. The race starts in ten minutes,” Aaron said. The couple made their way to the starting line, and waited for the signal to begin the race.

“Hey, Aaron,” Aislin said, just before the race started.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really. Why?”

“’Cause you’re ’bout to eat my dust!” Just at that moment, the signal to go was given, and Aislin took off.

The trail turned suddenly near the beginning, but Aislin took it gracefully. After that, it was downhill. It was rather difficult to keep from going too fast and losing control. Just past the downhill part, as the ground started to level, there was a footbridge. And then the trail was flat again. . .for a few yards, anyway. Then it started downhill again. At the bottom of the hill was a sharp turn. This would be very tricky, to turn the turn without crashing, after having gained a fair amount of speed from the hill. But Aislin wasn’t worried. She was a pretty experienced mountain biker. She didn’t take the turn as gracefully as she would’ve liked—she fishtailed pretty badly—but she managed to stay in control.

After that, the trail was relatively easy—for a while anyway. Then there was a dip in the middle of the trail, which was bridged by a piece of plywood. Coming from the direction she was coming from, Aislin could see the dip and the plywood perfectly, though, she noticed, because of the unevenness of the ground, coming from the opposite way, it’d be hard to see. She made a mental note of the location of the dip and the plywood, in case she had to come at it from the other direction.

She was glad she did. The trail ended up meeting itself on the way back. Aislin positioned her bike so that she would go over the plywood.