Page 24 of To the Moon and Back
Andy’s eyes lit up just a bit. “To the Moon and Back?”
“Yes!” She straightened and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Because that’s how much I love you.”
“And that’s how much I love you, too.” He found his laugh again just as his grandpa pulled up.
Jenna stood and watched him go. A deep satisfaction came over her. This was why she was a teacher. The kids who otherwise might fall through the cracks were the exact boys and girls God put in her path. And one day, if He was willing, she would have her own children. Until then, Jenna had Andy and another twenty-two kids to call her own.
At least until summer.
Andy’s words stayed with her as she reported the incident to her principal and later as she drove home to her town house and ate dinner from her Crock-Pot. The principal had promised to deal with the students responsible. Even so, Jenna would do a better job looking out for Andy. His words played in her heart again. And that’s how much I love you, too.
Sweet boy.
Music made Jenna’s beef stew and butternut squash dinner less lonely. Tonight it was Colton Dixon’s latest album. She could’ve eaten with someone else. A group of her teacher friends, maybe. Three of them were single like she was. Sometimes they shared meals together, planning for the school week and swapping stories about their students. But tonight Jenna wanted to be alone. Finally, after dinner, it was time to do what she’d wanted to do all day. What she’d planned to do.
Find a quiet place and remember.
• • •
THE SECOND FLOOR of her home had a back deck. Not very big. Just a couple chairs and a small table. But from there Jenna had a view better than any place in Columbus.
Trees grew behind her condo. Over them, the sky stretched on to eternity, and tonight the stars were brighter than usual. “That’s so like You, God,” she whispered. “Giving me a sky like this. Just when I need it.”
She sat in one of the chairs and looked at the moon. It was only a sliver, the reason the stars were so clear. She stayed still for a moment, taking in the view. Her mother had loved the stars, so the backdrop was perfect for remembering. Which was something she did often. But it was different on the anniversary.
More intentional.
Jenna wasn’t in the Alfred P. Murrah Building when the bomb went off. She was at her grandmother’s house. The way she always was on Wednesday mornings.
Both her parents worked in the building, on separate floors. Jenna wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or an actual memory, but she could picture her mom talking to her grandma about watching Jenna before and after school.
“If she can be with you, that’ll always be better.” Her mom had stood beside Jenna just inside the front door of her grandmother’s house. “She loves you so much, Mama.”
In the memory, Jenna was five. Not in kindergarten yet. So little. The images took shape. Her mom was dropping her off before heading to work, and Jenna could see herself, reddish-blond pigtails, pink bows at the end of each, grinning at her grandmother. “I love Grammy’s house.”
So the decision had always been an easy one, apparently. Jenna would stay with her grandmother while her parents were at work. At the end of the day, her mom would pick her up and the two of them would run errands or stop by the library. They’d go home and read or finger-paint or color. And then Jenna would help her mother make dinner.
The whole time—through every wonderful activity—her mom would talk to her about Jesus. “The reason we’re here, Jenna, is because God loves us so much.”
“That’s why He sent Jesus, right, Mommy?”
“Right, baby girl.”
Jenna had another favorite memory. It wasn’t clear like it used to be, but the important details were there, safe in the most sacred room of her soul. It was almost bedtime and her mom was reading to her. And she could see her mommy’s green eyes, see the smile on her face and hear her voice. “I love you to the moon and back, precious daughter.” Her mother’s face was forever etched in Jenna’s mind. Then and now, Jenna thought the same thing: Her mom was the prettiest woman in the world.
Later, Jenna’s grandma would tell her that she looked like her mama. Jenna believed it. The picture in her heart was a lot like the one she saw in the mirror each morning.
Another memory came into view. They were making meatloaf, and Jenna was using her clean hands to work in the bread crumbs. Her mom said something about having meat fingers and suddenly both of them were laughing. Just Jenna and her mom, working in the kitchen side by side, laughing about their meat fingers.
Jenna had a new nightgown that night. A gift from her grandmother. And Jenna’s mom was helping take off the tags and slipping it over Jenna’s head, kissing her forehead. “Sweetheart, look at you! You’re more beautiful than any princess who ever lived!”
And in that moment, Jenna could do nothing but believe her. “Princess Jenna, Mommy.” She twirled around in the kitchen. “That’s me.”
Just then, her daddy came into the room. He was tall and blond and handsome. Her mom used to say he looked like Captain America. Sometimes Jenna liked to pretend that was her daddy’s real job. Captain America. But by day he worked as a supervisor in the social services department of the government. There were times the accounting kept him late at work. Nights like this one, preserved forever in Jenna’s heart.
Her dad dropped his briefcase and his mouth fell open. “Princess Jenna!” He bowed. “I had no idea I was stepping into the presence of royalty!” Her dad had an imagination bigger than the state of Oklahoma. “Your Highness, I request the honor of giving you a piggyback ride!”
Giggles overcame Jenna and she twirled over to her daddy’s arms. He swept her up and onto his shoulders. Then he galloped her around the living room and kitchen until she was laughing too hard to breathe. He was her royal stallion, and she was princess of all the land.
