Page 27 of A SEAL's Heart
I nod my agreement.
It’s a double wardrobe and we work side by side, taking clothes off hangers, folding them, and putting them into a black garbage bag.
It doesn’t take long to clear the wardrobe. Like most military men I know, Jake kept to the basics: simple, practical wear.
Once the wardrobe is clear, Avery starts on a chest of drawers. It’s more clothes and an easy one for her.
I check under the bed and find a storage box. It’s got papers in it, mostly bills. Under the bills is a bundle of letters with a rubber band around them.
It’s Jake’s writing on the front, and they’re addressed to a Sofia Eaves.
I hold the letters up to Avery and she takes the bundle off me, frowning.
“Sofia Eaves.” She reads the name. “I don’t know who that is.”
She undoes the rubber band and rifles through the envelopes. “Who writes letters these days?”
Jake does, apparently. Avery looks as confused about them as I do. She peers inside the envelope, and there’s a handwritten letter inside.
“Why would Jake write letters to someone? Unless he had a girlfriend we didn’t know about.” She frowns, probably thinking the same thing I am. Jake would have told me if there was someone special. We shared everything.
Or I thought we did.
I take the letters off her and tie the rubber band around them. The family can keep them and do with them what they will.
The next item in the box is a worn-looking photo album. Avery peers over my shoulder and gasps.
“This is from when we were kids.”
Her hand goes to her throat, and her eyes go wet. She reaches for the album, and I stop her hand.
Are you sure? I want to ask. This is sure to be painful, and I want to shield her from that.
She blinks rapidly, banishing the tears.
“I want to look Ed,” she says softly. “But not here.”
I carry the box downstairs and put it on the sofa. I picked up a gray throw from the store to drape over the sofa so it looks less like Jake’s.
Avery pulls out the album, and I sit next to her.
She takes a deep breath and opens the first page. A young Shona smiles at the camera, holding a pink-faced baby whose face is screwed up in a cry.
“Jake’s baby pictures,” Avery says softly. “Mom will want these.”
Next to the baby photo, there’s one of a toddler sitting on a colorful rug with the baby in his lap. He drapes one hand protectively over the baby. I’d pick out Amos anywhere. Even as a three-year-old, his expression is as serious as always.
The first several pages are the two of them with their parents. In a stroller, on the swings at the park. Jake looks terrified as his mom holds him on Santa’s knee. The baby grows into a chubby toddler smiling at the camera while his brother has a permanent frown.
Each page tracks Jake’s growth from a toddler to a boy. There’s Jake’s 5thbirthday party with a red fire engine cake, the boys standing with their dad in his Navy uniform, Jake in a white softball uniform, then standing proudly with his dad, a hunting rifle between them. There are more birthday parties, and a few pages later, Shona’s holding another baby.
“There’s me.” Avery smiles at the picture of her mom in a tight white t-shirt and baggy jeans, sitting on a picnic blanket holding Avery while the boys sit beside her.
Jake is smiling at his baby sister, while Amos, a grumpy adolescent, looks off camera.
The next few pages are mostly of the kids. Avery growing into a chubby toddler. Jake’s 10thbirthday party, the cake a green army tank, the kids dressed for Halloween.
Avery’s hand pauses on the page, and when I glance at her, tears slide down her cheeks. She lets out a heart wrenching sob, and her shoulders slump.
