PART I: WHITE ROSES FOR REMEMBRANCE

I sat up in bed, clawing at the phantom seatbelt.  A scream clogged my throat, and my heart pounded against my chest in a futile attempt to escape from its bony cage. 

I peered through the darkness at little Hannah Hoover, my newest foster sister, in the twin bed next to mine. Did I wake her again? 

She blinked, turned over, and went back to sleep. 

Not me. I knew if I closed my eyes, I would see my daddy's face streaked with blood, hear him whisper his last words, "Forever. Remember."

I couldn't forget, even if I wanted to.

I untangled my long legs from the twisted sheets and stepped out of my bed and over to Hannah's. She slept best swaddled tightly in the covers, so I tucked her favorite pink blanket around her tiny frame and whispered, "Sleep tight, Sunshine," just like my daddy did for me when I was little. 

Before the car accident. 

Before the nightmares destroyed my sweet dreams.

I changed out of my nightgown and into my running clothes, all black for camouflage, and tiptoed across the hall into the bathroom. By the soft pink glow of Hannah's Star-Brite Nite-Lite, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, combed my unruly hair, and pulled it into a pony tail.

Using the railing as a guide, I snuck down the dark stairs to the kitchen to check my email. I sat at Daddy's ol' oak desk and turned on the computer, hoping for a message from my former foster brother, Dean King. The first email in my inbox was from . . . Dean. Finally!

 Time to meet Prince Charming. Call me. 

I wanted to sing "At Last" and dance around the room, but that would wake someone. So I remained in my seat and just smiled as I deleted the message. Jonathan, my stepfather, often checked my emails. He would forbid me to call Dean if he saw it.

I missed Dean so much. He'd lived with us for five years while his mother was in jail for embezzlement. Dean was my first and favorite foster brother. Jonathan and my mother (who Dean and I called The Rents) thought having a sibling would help me recover from my daddy's death, but I never did. 

For the billionth time, I wished Dean had not been arrested for burglary last year, because The Rents didn't care that the charges against him were eventually dropped. I still was not allowed to visit him, so our only contact was by late night email or covert calls from my best friend Melaney Miller's cell phone.

I stood and stretched, inhaling the clean scent of lemon polish and exhaling my impatience. I needed to know exactly what Dean's message meant, but it was too early to bother Melaney.

I plucked a white satin rose out of the crystal vase on the kitchen table and stuck the stem behind my ear and into the rubber band in my hair. I crept out the back door into the moonlit night. My shadow followed behind me on the concrete sidewalk. When my feet hit the black top, I ran.

I ran to be free. Free from the suffocating restrictions of the present. Free from the haunting memories of the past. Free to be me again, the real me, Jasmine Austine. Not Jasmine Jones!

But no matter how fast or far I ran, I couldn't forgive my mother for marrying Jonathan Jones so soon after daddy died and allowing him to adopt me. I was determined to change my last name back to Austine when I turned eighteen in May.

Keeping pace with my heartbeat, I jogged to the end of the block and turned left on to Pear Avenue. The cool breeze on my face and the steady rhythm of my feet on the road helped clear the nightmares from my mind, most mornings. 

In the dim beams of the street lamps, I sprinted past five blocks of houses, checked both ways before crossing Mahogany Street, and then trekked up the paved path to Harmony Cemetery where Daddy was buried. Over a thousand tombstones, adorned with flowers and flags, covered the hillside. Eternal lights of blue, green, red, and white illuminated many of the newer graves. 

I stopped in front of Daddy's headstone and knelt down in the damp grass. I slowly traced the name and date etched in the polished gray marble: James Allen Austine Born August 8. Today was Daddy's birthday.

I removed the satin flower from behind my ear and placed it in the granite vase with the other white roses. I looked up to the heavens and found the brightest star shining in the early morning sky.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy. I miss you," I whispered. "I wish you were here."

I watched the vivid, reverse rainbow of colors decorate the horizon as the sun rose over the purple hills and remembered how happy I was at Daddy's last birthday, nine years ago. 

We had woken up before dawn, loaded our fishing poles into the truck, and drove to the lake. We plopped the canoe into the water and paddled away from the dock just as the sun began to peek through the pine trees. Even though I was only eight years old, Daddy let me try to "Row, Row, Row the Boat" all by myself. We sang that nursery song very merrily and very loudly, which may be why we didn't catch any fish that morning.

We did catch a bullfrog that jumped into the canoe. Daddy dared me to kiss it to see if it was a handsome prince in disguise. I refused, so he dropped the poor creature back into the lake. I gazed at the ripples in the water as the frog swam away and imagined dancing at the ball with Prince Charming. At the stroke of midnight, we would kiss as fireworks exploded in the sky.

Life was like a fairy tale dream when I was Daddy's little princess. He loved me and wanted me to live happily ever after, but then he died. So how could I be happy? Daddy was gone forever, and my chosen Prince Charming, Tyler Price, was oblivious to my existence.

The Price family was the closest example of royalty in our small town. They owned a tri-county chain of grocery stores and lived in a huge mansion at the top of Rose Hill. The son, Tyler, was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He had raven-black hair, midnight-blue eyes, and a stunning smile that took my breath away, although he hadn't smiled at me for years.

I'd had a secret crush on Tyler Price since third grade. Only Melaney and Dean knew how much I liked him. Dean had promised to help me get Tyler's attention somehow before the end of summer. I couldn't wait to find out what he had to tell me. 

Holding on to the headstone for support, I got to my feet. "I love you, Daddy. I'll never forget you, even when I charm my prince, I promise. The truth will set us free." 

With a heart full of hope, I raced three blocks to Melaney's house to call Dean. I climbed the branches of the giant maple tree next to Melaney's bedroom and knocked on her open window. "Laney, please wake up. I need your help."

She jumped out of bed and opened the screen. Her chocolate curls tumbled in every direction. "What's wrong? Have you been crying?" she asked as I landed on the carpet beside her.

I rubbed two fingers across my cheeks to check for wetness. "No. I'm okay."

"Are you sure? Because I'm always here if you need to talk," she promised for the thousandth time in almost a decade, "especially today." Her deep brown eyes flooded with sympathy.

"I'm fine. Really. Dean just emailed me. He wants me to call him. Can I use your cell?" I always felt a bit pathetic when I had to borrow Melaney's phone. The Rents didn't trust me to own one.

She grabbed her cell phone off the dresser and handed it to me. I entered Dean's number.

"Hello," he answered.

"Hey, Beach Bum," I teased, smiling at the nickname I gave Dean the first summer he lived at Ocean Beach.

"Hey, Ghost. I didn't expect you to call back so soon." He called me Ghost because of my frequent visits to the graveyard and because of my pale skin.

"You're lucky The Rents didn't see your email."

"Not possible." Dean yawned into the phone. "You always get up before the sun does."

"So what's new?" I asked.

"Are you going to Picnic Creek Park next Saturday?"

"Yes. It's WGJC day." WGJC was our local Christian radio station.

"Excellent. Tyler is planning to be there with Mimi, and his friend Todd is bringing his latest cheerleader of the month. Her name is April or May. Or June? Anyway, they're going swimming, so wear your bikini. It's time for Operation Bathsheba."

A/N: Please click on the song at the top "So Far Away" by Lifehouse. 

"So far away 

  from where you are, 

  Standing underneath the stars, 

  I miss you, 

  and I wish you were here."

Who do you miss? Let me know in the comments. 

Forever Remember to Live, Laugh, and LOVE! - 3L