30. Epilogue
Epilogue
Forever by Dropkick Murphys
One Year Later
The sun shines brightly through the trees, bursting with vivid hues of orange and red. There’s warmth in the air. This may be one of the last mild days lingering from summer before the chilly, brittle autumn takes over.
I sit on my usual bench in Boston Common. I suppose it’s actually Dad’s bench now. I paid for a memorial plaque a few months ago to benefit the park, so it’s now the Samuel Murphy Memorial bench. In a way, it ensures he continues to become a part of my Saturday tradition as I now share it with Charlie. I sit propped against the rail on one end of the bench, my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, with a book in my lap. Charlie sits at the other end with his legs crossed, reading through the real estate advertisements in the newspaper for commercial space.
The past year has been an adjustment for him, for both of us, really. I’ve gone from living alone to having a partner in life. Someone by my side every day that pushes me to be the best version of myself that I can. Charlie has been working to adapt to an entirely new century and all that goes with it. Watching him experience things for the first time has made me realize how much I take for granted. But it’s also made me appreciate the small things.
Soon after settling in, he began picking up carpentry again, revisiting all the techniques his father taught him. It helped him still feel connected to his past while he settled into a new life. He started with re-furnishing my office at Chisholm, which impressed most of my colleagues, and he had a growing list of clients from there. Eventually his business grew, and now we’re looking for a larger retail space for him to showcase his work. He’s fortunate to have learned woodworking from his father and bookkeeping from his mother. His shop, Two Worlds Furniture , is a nod to the circumstances in which we found each other, and remains a private joke between us.
I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out and see Ben’s picture lighting up my screen.
Hey Al, you still picking me up at the airport on Friday?
We’ll be there! How’s vacation?
It’s been great. Mom and Dad seemed to really like Peter. We stayed with them at the beach house for a few days and then drove up the coast to Napa. It was awesome. I’ve got lots of wine for you! I’m ready to get home, though.
Just in time for the home opener!
Hell yeah! Even though I have to fork over a fortune for my own season ticket now that you’ve got yourself a permanent plus one.
Haha, well I’m not sorry about that. Have a good rest of your trip, Benj. I’ll see you Friday.
Not long after we got back from our time travel expedition, Ben went to the coffee shop and asked out Peter. It was an even bigger deal when, after three dates, they were still seeing each other. Ben was upfront from the beginning and it turns out, Peter doesn’t want kids either. They both just enjoy each other's company and the independence they have. They’ve been together eight months now. It makes me happy that Ben found someone who shares his interests and his dreams. The family I’ve created for myself continues to grow.
I wondered for the longest time what to do with all of my research on the Titanic. From my independent research to the journey we had back in time, there is so much I wanted to say. So much that needed to be said. I could think of no better service to those I’ve met and lost, those who have forever changed me, than to ensure that they were not forgotten. I can’t do much, but I can make sure history hears their story, as they would tell it. I combined all my work and experience aboard the Titanic to write a novel. The novel Violet intended to write but never had the chance. Not long after we returned from 1912, I went to my closet, lifted the loose floorboard, and found her rough drafts. I used them to create the foreword for my book.
I sit on the bench reading the first proof of my work. As proud as I am of every word I wrote, it’s Violet’s foreword that moves me the most. She may have thought that she wasn’t the kind of writer suited to author a book, but she was. Her words are bold and assertive, but also relatable and poignant.
I am Violet Kelly. I am a wife. A mother. I am proud to be.
I am a suffragette. A feminist. A voice for change. I am proud to be.
I am also Alice Carney. I am proud to be.
Women can be so many things.
There is no limit, no cap, no ceiling.
We have the power to change.
We have the capacity for goodness.
We.
The strength is within us when we act as one.
So, yes, I am Alice Carney.
But the point is:
aren’t we all?
I flip the book closed and examine the title and cover.
We Are Alice Carney:
The real life of Boston’s Suffragette
I twirl the locket around my neck between my fingers. I can feel the etched rose pattern underneath my thumb. It’s comforting to have Violet so close to my heart. I look over at the carousel and remember all the Saturdays in the park with Dad. The horses continue to race in circles, moving up and down. A little girl in blonde pigtails and pink overalls rides Duchess. I hope she has flames within her soul. I hope she stands on our shoulders and makes the world even brighter. More than anything, I hope she has someone behind her fanning those flames and telling her she can.
I once thought to myself how life is like a carousel, cyclical and full of ups and downs. Maybe it is. But now I have someone riding alongside me. Someone to share my pain, my triumph, my joy.
Life can be heartbreaking. You keep your head down and just suck in the darkness, inhaling it like heavy smoke. It feels as though the only choice you have is just to endure it, to wait out the storm. It can feel so dark you can’t imagine it ever being okay again. But it will. The pain won’t hurt forever. One day, when you least expect it, you’ll look up and see the sun has come back out. You’ll feel it shine on your face and realize you’ve survived, that you’re stronger than you ever thought you could be.
The memory never goes away, but the peace you find weakens its punch. Maybe you find that peace in someone else. Maybe you find it in yourself. Or maybe even both. Wherever you find it, hold on tight. I smile at Charlie with a grateful heart.
My eyes glance down at the book I am so proud of. A book that is mine and tells the story of my family, weaving the past and the future into one. A book that bears the name that I am proud to have.
At the bottom of the cover are the words:
Alice Hughes