Epilogue
W hile it is no doubt true that there are workplaces in Manhattan which boast Italian coffee machines and free massages, most of the office workers in this famous precinct make do during their break with a take-out coffee, a pastry and a quick browse through social media.
Some of these folks may pine for the pleasures of the executive floors, but others are perfectly content because they actually enjoy popping outside to the little coffee van in the park where the proprietor knows their name and their coffee order, and the warm pastries are allegedly made by someone’s nonna.
Jodi Ruskin, for example, communication officer for a non-profit organization devoted to improving high school literacy, particularly enjoyed meeting her husband at their favorite café near the beach in Far Rockaway. These days, although she wasn’t up to caffeine, and fried bacon made her nauseous, Jodi considered that the view was well worth a little discomfort.
And while she certainly could have used the occasional massage, what with dealing with recalcitrant highschoolers and educational bureaucrats on a shoestring budget, Jodi was more than content with a foot massage after work by her doting husband.
Neither do perfect arrangements for blended families exist.
Ricky, now legally recognized as Jaime’s biological father, had nevertheless ceded parental authority as well as the day-to-day care of his child to Hattie and Silas Beecham.
And though the Beechams worked hard to include Ricky (and Jodi) in Jaime’s life, Ricky was not there to tie his daughter’s shoelaces and make teddy bear forts behind the sofa. And as the years rolled on, he would not be there to hear her spelling lists and teach her to ride a bike.
Ricky accepted this, and the ache in his heart, because when he saw Chrissie’s face staring back at him from his small and increasingly vocal daughter, he was reminded that Jaime was not only his beloved child.
She was the bringer of joy to her grandparents. A dear stepdaughter to his wife and the precious adopted child of her parents. Baby sister to siblings who would gladly walk into the lion’s den for her sake.
Jaime did not belong to anyone but herself and her Creator. And although she had been found, with much rejoicing, Jaime had never been truly lost.
The End