Fiction Friday - Justine, II

Welcome to the Inaugural FICTION FRIDAY!

Every Friday I will post a new story. During AtoZ, these were each stand alone stories so you didn't need to return repeatedly to follow a plot. I intend to continue in that, but today I wanted to follow-up on a story I wrote during AtoZ. If you read my "Justine" post (from the "sealed envelope" prompt) then you know the first part. If you did not read it, check it out - here - and then read this second part.

There was much speculation at the end as to what happened next. Allow me to put the speculation to rest.

Justine, Part II

Jennifer gorged her brain on the letter in her hands. It filled two type-written pages. As the first wave of tears subsided, she took a sip of the tea sitting at her elbow and continued through the entire tragic tale. Her heart broke for her parents, for what they had been through, for their loss. Then, as an after effect, it broke for herself, for having no one to share the burden of this knowledge, and for what she both gained and lost in this one letter. She cried some more. 

When done reading, she placed the letter on the table beside her tea-cup and looked into the envelope, removing the rest of the documents and photos. The top photo showed a lovely family – her mom and dad, and a young girl. The envelope was full of baby pictures, birthday pictures, family vacations, all up to the child’s fifth birthday. One picture was labeled on the back “First day of first grade.” Then no more pictures. 

Newspaper articles had been clipped and stuck into the envelope. They told of a child abducted while walking home from school, a frantic police search ending inconclusively, and a year later, the body of a child found buried beneath a shed in someone’s backyard in Ohio. In the town her parents had apparently lived in. 

They had never spoken of their first child. They had never spoken of a life in Ohio. They had had no contact with anyone from those days. After Justine’s body had been found, they struggled to get their bearings on life, according to the letter. The loss took a heavy toll on both of her parents. When Cathy became pregnant again, they moved. To eastern Pennsylvania. To a new start. To try to create a better, safer, life for the new child. 

In the letter, her father wrote of Cathy’s long psychological struggle. After Jennifer’s birth, the postpartum depression was an ordeal for the whole family. How could she find joy in a new baby when she had failed her first child as a mother? 

Jennifer was a year old, the letter said, when her parents closed the book on Justine. They collected all the photos, all the news articles that had tortured them, placed them in an envelope, and hid them in a box in their closet. It was the only thing her father could think to do, to remove the daily reminder of their haunted past. Cathy returned to the envelope at times - on Justine’s birthday, or when Jennifer hit milestones as she grew up. 

They loved Jennifer with all their hearts, not as a replacement for Justine, but as their own child. Even so, it wasn’t until after Jennifer’s mother died that her dad sealed up the envelope for good.

Jennifer had had a sister. 

She sifted through the pictures again, seeing the joy in her sister’s young face, noticing the resemblance to her own face. Selecting a picture of her parents with Justine in a park, Jennifer rose, and crossed to her fireplace. The picture of her parents that sat on the mantel was the same size. She opened the back of the frame and put this picture of her family in its place. Justine would not be forgotten.