19 comments/ 26432 views/ 36 favorites Lost Then Found By: GatorRick This is not your typical tale of romance between a man and a woman. I have tried to tell a story of how a man, who believes he has lost everything important in his life, discovers he really hasn't. Although Post Traumatic Stress Disorder plays only a small part in this tale it plays a major part in the real lives of many people. PTSD is not just a condition that affects men and women in the military. It can, and does, affect anyone who has suffered a traumatic event in their life. If you, a loved one or someone you know suffers from PTSD I urge you to seek help for yourself or for them. There are dedicated men and women trained and all too willing to help. Life is too short to live it in misery. As in all my stories this one does have a happy ending. Hope you enjoy reading it and will forgive me for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. ***** I took my good friend 'Jack', 'Jack Daniels', to sit out on the screened-in pool deck overlooking the St. Johns River for another long conversation trying to explain how my life had turned into pure crap in just six short months. It was easy conversing with 'Jack'. He didn't talk much. In fact, he didn't talk at all. But he was a damn good listener. I'm Scott Martin, named after my father, and up until five months ago I was a captain in the United States Marine Corps. I was half way into my third deployment, the first one in Iraq and the second along with this one in Afghanistan. I had seen the promotion list for advancement to the rank of Major and I was in the top five. ****************** MY CONVERSATION WITH 'JACK' After pouring a healthy three fingers of bourbon into a glass filled with ice, I told 'Jack' about the conversation I had with my wife, Maureen, just before my last deployment. My plan was that after getting promoted I was going to request an assignment to the Marine Corps Training Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina. I figured with my record it would be granted. I loved the Corps and wanted to make it my career. Maureen was not too happy when I left but I promised her our life would be different when I returned. The first six months went by pretty quickly. Maureen and I managed to communicate via email and Skype. We set up a schedule when I would contact her and she would be at our computer at home to take the call. It was working well at first and then gradually she wasn't on-line when I tried to contact her. Her excuses sounded plausible. She was in the shower, she lost track of the time, and so-on. Finally, six months and one week into my deployment, on one of the few times I was able to video message her, she dropped the bomb. She told me she didn't love me anymore, she found someone else to look after her that wasn't half way around the world and she had initiated a divorce. "Scott," she said. "It's over between us. Just sign the papers when you get them." With that she broke the connection before I even had a chance to ask why. The paperwork arrived a week later in the snail mail. I read them over. She wasn't asking for much, half of our savings and some assorted other items that meant nothing to me. Since we rented an apartment there was no home to sell. She kept her car and would put mine into long-term storage (at my expense). I told her to have my dad sell it and let him deposit the money along with my half of our savings. I contacted my mom and dad told them what had happened. They were shocked and dismayed. I asked dad if he would find out the name of the SOB she had hooked up with. He did and a few days later I had my answer, Timothy (Tim) Truckman. I knew him from college. He was a jackass then and evidentially he hadn't changed at all. Truckman had taken over his family's freight hauling business and had a fleet of ten to fifteen semi-trucks and trailers. From what dad told me he was making the big bucks. Putting two and two together it was easy to see why Maureen divorced me. There was no point in contesting the divorce from half way around the world. What could I do? I couldn't force her to love me so I signed the damn papers and sent them back. I did make one change to her petition for divorce. Since she initiated it, she could pay for it out of her split of our assets. Eight years of my life down the drain in the blink of an eye. Six weeks later I got another kick in the head. Lieutenant Colonel William Sheffield, my commanding officer, summoned me along with seven other officers to a meeting. We were handed paperwork informing us our services were no longer required due to a drawdown of military personnel and our separation from the Corps would be effective at the conclusion of our current deployment. Who in the Hell gives 'pink slips' to guys in the middle of fighting a war? I'll tell you. Some stupid ass civilians in the current administration who decided that it was politically expedient to cut the number of men below the rank of major in all branches of the armed forces. These assholes never spent a day in the military and had absolutely no respect or concern for any for us currently serving. In the space of two months I had lost a wife and now a career. Was I pissed? You better believe I was. Once again, I had no choice but to suck it up and accept it for what it was. I did what I was trained to do. Complete our assigned missions, look after the men under my command to ensure that they stayed alive to return safely home. Twenty-nine days before my scheduled rotation home and separation from the Marines I was in the lead Humvee with four others following on a routine 'show the flag' mission. About an hour out from base, as we entered a small village, we were waved down by a little boy. I judged him to be about ten or eleven years of age. Getting out of my lead vehicle I listened to his plea. In halting English he told me his parents had been killed by the Taliban leaving him and his two younger sisters alone. They had nothing to eat for days. Could we help them? I called to Rich, my driver, who was out of the Humvee watching the surrounding buildings, to bring me all the MREs we had stashed in the back of the vehicle. He returned with a bag filled with a dozen or so of them. When I handed them to the boy his eyes lit up and thanking me profusely he headed back to a two story building across the street. He hadn't taken more than ten steps when a shot rang out and he fell, scattering the precious food he had secured for his sisters. This little boy did nothing wrong. All he did was try and get something to feed his sisters and he was killed for talking to Americans. The sight of him lying dead in the dirt would stay with me for the rest of my life. By now all of my men had dismounted from their vehicles and, following our Urban Warfare Protocols, we stormed the building. The first floor was clear so I led the way up to the second. The first three rooms were empty. The fourth room was locked, but fortunately Rich had the key, a size eleven boot made short work of the flimsy lock. As the door flew open I advanced with my M16A4 at the ready. A bearded man stood in the center of the room holding two little girls in front of him as shields. As he began to raise his weapon the two girls broke free and scampered away to safety. Before he could fire I emptied half a clip into him starting at his pubic bone and up the center of his chest and finishing in his head. He was dead before he hit the floor. Handing my helmet and weapon to Rich I knelt in front of the terrified girls. Talking as quietly and soothingly as I could I told them they were safe, I meant them no harm, and I would take them to someone who would look after them. I don't know if they understood me but after asking the girls to trust me they allowed me to gather them both up in my arms and make my way downstairs back to the Humvee. The older girl, who I judged to be about six or seven, sat in my lap with her arms wrapped tightly around my neck refusing to let go. The younger one, who was maybe three or four, sat quietly in the seat beside me clutching my arm. I knew there was a Catholic Mission, not far from my base at Camp Dwyer, who took in orphaned children. For the entire journey to the Mission, the older girl kept her arms around my neck. Keeping her face pressed against my cheek, she kept whispering something that sound like 'Usafas, Usafas'. When we arrived she didn't want to let go of me, crying and screaming, until the Sister and I managed to quiet her down. I inquired if they would be able to find good homes for these two little girls. Answering me, with sadness in her eyes, she told me "no". Asking why not she explained to me. Because they are Christians. No one will want them. About the best I can do is place them into the system and perhaps find them a foster home in the United States or Europe. Before leaving I asked the good Sister what 'Usafas' meant. She said she never heard of that word in the Afghan languages of either Dari or Pashto. Picking them both up to hug them good-bye I was surprised when they both kissed me on the cheek and and said 'Usafas, Usafas'. I left the Mission with mixed emotions. The vision of that little boy laying dead in the dirt and two pretty little girls that would, hopefully, find a better life were etched into my mind. ****************** THE CONCLUSION OF MY CONVERSATION WITH 'JACK' Ten days before I was to leave Afghanistan I was, once more, summoned to Lieutenant Colonel Sheffield's office. He asked me to sit down and then handed me a communique from the States informing me of the death of my mother, father and younger brother, Ben. There had been a horrific traffic accident on Route US 301 just north of Starke, Florida. They were coming home to Jacksonville from Gainesville where Ben was a sophomore at the University of Florida. Apparently a semi-truck, heavily loaded with scrap metal, had crossed the median and slammed head-on into the car my father was driving. They were all killed instantly. The next day I was on a plane back home. I was numb. In the space of less than six months I lost a wife, a career, parents and younger brother. ****************** BACK TO THE PRESENT I made it home in time for the funerals. All the arrangements had been made by my dad's long time friend and attorney, Michael Anders. Three days later when all the sympathetic friends and acquaintances of my family had gone I was left alone with only 'Jack'. It was late that afternoon when my bottle of 'Jack' had also deserted me that I heard the front door bell ringing. Opening the door I found Michael Anders, or Uncle Mike as I had called him all my life, standing on the step. "Scott," he said. "As I told you the day of the funeral I would stop by, after things settled down somewhat, to explain the settlement of your parents estate." I motioned for him to follow me back out onto the pool deck. Seeing the empty bourbon bottle he asked me if I was up to hearing the terms of my parents will. I told him I was okay and to go ahead. Opening his briefcase he retrieved some paperwork and, glancing at it from time-to-time, he explained to me the terms of my parent's will. "Scott, since you are now the sole surviving family member you inherit everything. The mortgage on the house was satisfied sometime ago, so you get it free and clear. After all the bills and other encumbrances have been paid from your parents savings and checking accounts you stand to receive this amount of money." He said, sliding a sheet of paper over to me with a figure written on it. "Adding the life insurance payouts to that figure you have a considerable amount of money. I suggest that you secure the advice of a financial planner to explore your options with what do with it. If you're interested I have the names of several firms I could recommend." Looking at him, with tears in my eyes, I said to him. "I can't sleep, I'm angry all the time, I have nightmares where I keep seeing the face of a dead little boy. Uncle Mike I'd give all that money up if I could just have my life back." "I know son, I know." He replied. "It sounds like you are suffering from PTSD." Picking up the empty Jack Daniels bottle. He said to me. "Scott the answer to your problems won't be found in this bottle." "Let me tell you a story about myself. Some forty years or so ago, when I returned from Southeast Asia, my career was just starting. I suffered a serious problem in a relationship with a woman I thought I was in love with. I had a friend back then, too. Only his name wasn't 'Jack'. It was 'Jose', 'Jose Cuervo'." "Your dad found me one day in my car parked in front of my apartment. I had passed out before I could drive away and hurt myself or, worse yet, some innocent person. He dragged me back inside, sobered me up and had a long talk with me." "Together he helped me to resolve my problems. Your dad never lost faith in me. After a while, with his help and support, I realized that I had a good life ahead of me if I wanted to work at it. A year later I found Barbara and we have been happily married ever since." "You've suffered more things than I could ever imagine. But it's up to you to move on. There's help out there for you. People trained in dealing with PTSD who want to help you deal with it. Reach out to them, Scott. Please do it, if not for yourself, for your mom and dad's sake." We must have sat there for ten minutes not saying a word to each other. Changing the subject I asked, "Uncle Mike what can you tell me about the accident?" "Right now nothing. The accident investigation hasn't been completed yet. As soon as it is finished I'll get a copy and get back to you with it. Should only be a matter of a few more days." "Meanwhile, go take a shower, change into some clean clothes and pack a bag. I'll call Barbara and tell her I'm bringing you home for dinner and we'll want you to stay with us for a couple of days." That evening, after dinner, I recounted my experiences over the past six months in greater detail. They both listened to me, not interrupting my narrative, only exchanging knowing glances with one another. When I had finished, Barbara said to me. "Scott, tomorrow you and I are going to the VA Hospital and see about getting the help you need. You deserve to live a happy and productive life." ****************** THE HEALING BEGINS Early the next day we went over to the VA where I completed the necessary paper work to enroll in the system. I was lucky enough to secure an appointment that very afternoon for a preliminary assessment. After a light lunch Barbara drove me back for my appointment. An hour later I had a treatment plan. As I told her, on the drive back, "the doctor was very optimistic that I could be treated with counseling without having to resort to prescription drugs. I have my first session scheduled for the day after tomorrow." "That's pretty fast considering all the problems the VA seems to be having." She said. "Yeah, I know. Looks like they are finally getting their act together. I guess all the bad press forced them to make some dramatic changes." Two days later I had my first meeting with a therapist trained in treating those suffering with PTSD. It was a very productive session and for the first time in months I felt a little better about myself. I was given a schedule that allowed me to meet with the therapist once a week. In addition, he gave me his cell phone number if I needed help outside of normal working hours. The very next day Uncle Mike called to tell me he received the final report of the accident investigation. By now I was back in my own home so I asked him to come by when he was finished for the day. He told me what he had couldn't wait and he would be by in under an hour. When he arrived forty minutes later we sat at the kitchen table where he explained everything the report revealed. This is what Uncle Mike told me. "It would seem Mister Truckman has been cutting corners regarding his trucking fleet in order to be able to underbid his competition." "Number One. He has hired undocumented aliens as drivers and has been able to pay them about a third of the going rate." I interrupted him for a moment. "Undocumented? You mean illegal aliens?" "Well the politically correct term is now undocumented." He replied. "But you are correct. They are illegal immigrants." "Number Two," he continued. "He has required his drivers to circumvent the Department of Transportation's mandate for the number of hours they can drive without rest. If they don't do what he tells them he threatens to report them to immigration and have them deported." "Number Three. He has falsified the semi-annual and annual safety inspections on his trucks as required by the Federal Highway Transportation and Safety Act." Looking once more at the paperwork in his hand he said. "Number Four. The toxicology report on the dead driver of the semi-truck that killed your parents revealed that his system was overloaded with amphetamines. This report states they were provided by Truckman to keep these guys awake so they could drive those longer periods of time." "Number Five. Because of his complicity in the death of your parents and brother he's going to be charged by the State of Florida with three counts of vehicular manslaughter." "He's facing some heavy duty criminal charges both Federal and State." "My prediction is that he's looking at a very, very long time behind bars. Everything is documented. He doesn't stand a chance." "Now I'm prepared to file a civil suit against Truckman Trucking, Inc. on your behalf. It is a privately held corporation and he is the single shareholder. Everything he owns is listed as being held by this corporation, everything, including both of his fancy cars as well as his penthouse condo in Ponte Verda overlooking the Atlantic Ocean." "Won't his liability insurance just cover the damages?" I inquired. "Nope. In the fine print of every policy there is a stipulation that if the policy holder is negligent or is found guilty on criminal charges in any matter regarding the claim the insurance company is not liable to pay any claims against it." "We'll take it all. Just give me the go-ahead and I'll have the paperwork drawn up and filed with the court as soon as the criminal charges are adjudicated." "What about Maureen? How much will she be hurt by all this?" I asked. "Since they never married she's not liable for any damages. However, her high style of living will be over. Everything he ever gave her; car, jewelry, expensive clothing all of it was purchased in the name of his corporation and therefore, is not her property. You'll get all of that as well." "All right, Uncle Mike. go ahead. Leave Maureen with something though. After all we did have seven and half good years together and word has gotten back to me that all of our old friends want nothing more to do with her." "Not only your old friends, Scott." Uncle Mike said. "I'm in the American Legion along with her father. As I understand it he and her mother tore her a new one when they found out what she did to you." "Really? I would have thought her parents would have stood by her through the divorce and everything." I said. "Scott, you are forgetting her father was in the Marines. He was absolutely livid with what she did. He still refuses to have anything to do with her. He told me one time that he no longer has a daughter." "That's too bad, Uncle Mike. Maybe I should call and talk with him. She's going to need someone when this is all over." "Scott," he asked. "Are you still in love with Maureen?" I thought for a few minutes before answering him. "When you love someone for a long, long time it's hard to just turn it off." Lost Then Found "Do I love her? Yes." "Can I forgive her? No. At least not in the foreseeable future." "Would I ever take her back? Never. She divorced me. It's over between us." "If only she had lived her life with me according to the Marine Corps Motto . . . 'Semper Fidelis', and you know what that means Uncle Mike . . . . 'Always Faithful' . . . If she was 'Always Faithful' none of this would have ever happened." ****************** LIFE MOVES ON Several weeks went by and my weekly therapy sessions were starting to produce results. I wasn't as depressed and a lot of the anger was gone. Even the nightmares of seeing that little boy being killed were not as frequent and I was sleeping better. One day Barbara called me. She was having a birthday party for her niece, Susan, and wanted me to come that Saturday night. "Scott, it will be good for you to get out with people again. It's only family and a few friends of Susan. Come on what do you say?" "Okay. You've twisted my arm. What time and any suggestions for a present?" "Seven o'clock will work. As for a gift, she's turning twenty-five I'm sure you can figure something out. Bye-bye." What do you get a twenty-five year old woman, that you hardly know, for a gift? Then it came to me. Chocolate. I never heard of a girl or woman who didn't like chocolate. So off I went. I found an upscale confectionary shop in the mall that specialized in chocolate candy. When I explained what I wanted to the clerk I was shown several of their selections. Picking out a box I asked how much. The clerk replied. "This one is two-fifty." "Only two dollars and fifty cents? That sounds awful cheap for a gift." The clerk looked at me if I was slightly crazy and replied. "I'm sorry if I confused you. The price of this box of chocolate is two hundred and fifty dollars." "Okay. I'll take it," I said, handing her my American Express Card. The sales clerk even wrapped it in birthday gift paper for me at no charge. I thought to myself that for two hundred and fifty bucks it was the least they could do. So Saturday evening, armed with the box of candy and a card from the Hallmark store, I made my way to Barbara and Uncle Mike's home for Susan's birthday party. I had met Susan for the first time over eight years ago when Maureen and were first married. Over the years I must have seen her maybe a dozen times at assorted family gatherings. The last time was for mom, dad and Ben's funeral. Susan had matured into a lovely young woman. Standing about five foot seven or eight inches tall and weighing . . . wait a minute . . . men should never speculate about a woman's weight . . . never. Let's just say her weight was appropriate to her height. She had the deepest blue eyes, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders and she looked just as good going as she did coming. When I entered the room she came up to me and I gave her the card and wrapped present. Placing them on a table holding other gifts she turned back to me and gave me a big hug and a quick kiss on my lips. "I'm so glad you came, Scott. Come with me. I want to introduce you to my friends." Watching Susan's family and friends as the party got into full swing I found myself reflecting on the the loss of my own family. Moving into Uncle Mike's study I sought some time alone to reflect on my feelings. I had only been in there for a minute or two when Susan appeared with two plates of birthday cake. Handing one plate to me, and sitting beside me, she began eating hers. "I love chocolate. This is my second piece." She said as she ate another bite. I knew then and there that my birthday present would be a big hit with her. Finishing our cake she stood, grabbed my hand and said to me. "Come with me and watch me open my presents." When she opened my gift she exclaimed. "Oh my God! This is the all time very best chocolate ever made. Nobody gets to share it with me. It's all mine." "No, I'm just kidding. Everyone can have one piece. But only one piece," she said looking at her girl friends. As the party wound down and I made my way to leave Susan came up to me to thank me, once more, for coming and the wonderful gift. Hugging me again she kissed me on the lips. This time it was a long lingering kiss. Breaking the embrace she whispered in my ear. "Scott, I would like to see more of you. Please call me, soon." I did just that. Calling the next morning I asked if she would go to dinner with me that evening. She accepted and soon after we began dating frequently. After that first date we spent almost every weekend together either going out or spending time at my place or her apartment. She told me all about her job as a primary school teacher. She loved watching her students evolve over the course of the school year. It was a very satisfying and fulfilling job for her. I told her about my divorce and how unsettling it was for me. I explained to her about the treatment I was receiving to combat my PTSD and how successful it appeared to be working. I, also, told her about the little boy who died trying to feed his little sisters. We both cried like babies. One day, while we were discussing our future together, I spoke of wanting to have children. She became upset and said, "Scott, we have to talk about that." "You may not want to stay with me anymore after I tell you this. When I was just entering puberty I began experiencing severe abdominal pain. A CAT scan revealed several cysts on my ovaries. They were found to be pre-cancerous and I had to have a partial hysterectomy. I can never have children." She rose from her seat, began crying as she tried to leave the room. I stopped her and wrapping my arms around her I said to her. "Susan, I didn't fall in love with your ovaries. I fell in love with YOU! I want to marry you. Please say yes, please say you'll marry me." She did. We were married three months later. ****************** Shortly before Susan and I got married Tim Truckman's trial in Federal Court was held. He was found guilty on all charges of the indictment. A month later he received another guilty verdict on the State charges. Uncle Mike's prediction was proven correct. He received a sentence of five years for each of the four counts against him in Federal Court they were to be served consecutively. The sentence for the three counts of complicity in causing the deaths of my parents and brother was twenty-five to thirty years in State prison. He would serve the twenty years in the Federal prison system before serving his sentence in State prison. He very likely would die in prison. Uncle Mike immediately filed the civil suit against Truckman and his freight hauling company. Uncle Mike was correct once more. Truckman's insurance company refused to pay his claim citing the fine print in the contract. I was awarded everything he owned. His business, bank accounts, condo and all his personal property; it all came to me. After talking it over with Susan I decided to sign the condo over to Maureen to live there with some stipulations. She would have to pay the property taxes and association dues herself. If she defaulted on the taxes or association dues the property would revert back to me. She could not sell it. Maureen managed to reconcile with her parents after I made a few telephone calls to her father. Maureen, her mom and dad came by to see us one afternoon. I always liked her dad. He was a straight up guy. He told me that what I did for Maureen was over the top generous. "You were the best thing in her life. Too bad she didn't see that until it was too late." Maureen just stood there not saying anything. Finally, as they were about to leave she found her voice. "Scott, it was never you. I was so stupid, so stupid, to be seduced by Tim. He turned into a real bastard when things began falling a part. I'm so very, very sorry. You didn't deserve what I did to you. Your generosity is just overwhelming. Thank you, thank you." ****************** A NEW CAREER I was sitting in what used to be the office of Truckman Trucking one afternoon trying to make some sense of what I had. All the illegal aliens, excuse me, undocumented drivers had disappeared. The only people left were some of the office staff. I was at a loss at what to do. Sell it or try to resurrect the business. The door to the office opened and shut and I heard one of the girls the office say. "Oh my gosh. Jake, Jake Rivers, where did you come from?" "I'm here to talk to the new owner," a voice replied. "Mister Martin," the girl called to me. "There's somebody here you really need to see." A man, who I judged to be in his early forties walked up to me, stuck out his hand and said. "Hi. I'm Jake Rivers. I was the general manager of this outfit when old man Truckman was running the show. After he passed and the kid took over I saw what he was planning so I left. Been driving a truck for a logging company in Oregon the past few years. Couldn't take the winters any longer so I came back." "As soon as I got in town a couple of old buddies filled me in on what happened. Sorry to hear about your folks. Not sorry to hear about what happened to the asshole." "Are you thinking about starting up again? If you are I'd like to come to work for you. Providing you play by the rules." When he finished speaking I took him back into my office and closed the door. What he told me made me decide to resurrect the business. He knew the freight hauling business and what it would take to make the company a success again. Only this time it would be done the right way. I hired him, put him in charge and never regretted doing it. First thing he did was bring all the paperwork regarding the safety standards for all the trucks, as mandated by the government, up to date. When the word got out that he was back running things men and women drivers showed up looking for work. Adding additional contracts with the few left over we broke even the first month and showed a growing profit in the ensuing months. Every Saturday evening Susan and I would go out to eat at a restaurant overlooking the river in Jacksonville. Afterward we would strolled along the river walk stop to sit on a bench and watch the river traffic pass by. One Saturday we watched as a young family with two young girls pass by us. The youngsters were having a grand old time jumping up and down chasing each other. Susan looked at me and we smiled at each other. ****************** FINDING A FAMILY Taliban insurgents, each one dressed in black and wearing hoods over their faces, entered the compound in the early morning hours before dawn. The few guards that were there were quickly overpowered and silenced. They pulled the Catholic Nuns from their beds, dragging them to the courtyard and beheaded them all. Then they went for the Christian children. Dragging them, screaming in fright, to the courtyard they were executed as well. The last two were sisters, clutching to each other as the masked insurgent prepared to decapitate them. Drawing back his sword he swung . . . . "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" I screamed, sitting up in bed, trembling and drenched in sweat, as Susan woke me from my nightmare. "Scott, Scott, wake up sweetheart. You're all right, you're all right! It was just a bad dream." She exclaimed. After calming me down she asked me. "Was it the little boy again?" Answering her I said. "No, this time it was his sisters." Too upset and shaken to go back to sleep Susan stayed up with me the remainder of the night as I related my dream to her. "Susan, I've got to find them. I have to be sure in my mind that they are alive and safe." "Scott, not you, 'WE' have to find them. First thing in the morning we'll start making inquiries. We'll start by talking to Father Sullivan right after morning Mass. He may be able to point us in the right direction." "Do you remember the name or the location of the Catholic Mission?" She asked me. "Yes, the mission was in the district of Garmsir just a few miles from my base, Camp Dwyer." "Now what about the the Sister who you gave the children to? Tell me everything you can remember about her." She questioned. Replying to her I said. "All I know is her name, Sister Mary Kathryn, I don't ever remember hearing her last name. One other thing. She told me that since the girls were Christian nobody would want them there and she would try to find a foster home for them in the States or in Europe." "Okay, that's a start. We'll give this information to Father Sullivan and see what he can come up with. Scott, WE will find them." Susan and I spoke briefly with Father Sullivan after early Mass. He asked to meet with us after the eleven o'clock service. Taking the information we had he told Susan and me he would try to find out anything he could to help us. I gave him my cell phone number, as well as our home phone, to call if he was able to find any information. Thursday morning he called. Could I meet with him in the church office right away? He had found some things he wanted to share with me. School had ended for the year for the children the day before but Susan was still there, today, for the last of the teacher meetings and the end of the year staff party. So I called her and left a message before going over to the church by myself. When I arrived I was surprised to see Susan's car already parked in the parking lot. "I got your message and left for the rest of the day, sweetheart. I want to be with you when we find out, one way or the other, what Father Sullivan found," she said. Holding tightly to my hand we walked into the church office. Seeing us Father Sullivan ushered us into his office. "I have some good news for you. I told the Bishop of your plight and he did some digging for me. He told me our Mission in Garmsir was evacuated three months ago. The Sisters and most of the children were brought to the United States. Right now they are at Saint Mary's Orphanage in Baltimore, Maryland." "The Sister you gave the children to in Afghanistan is Sister Mary Kathryn O'Reilly. I called inquiring about the children. For obvious reasons they were very reluctant to give me any names or information concerning the children in their care over the phone. All I'm able to tell you is that they have two little sisters there." "I do hope this helps you find peace, my son," he concluded. After thanking him profusely Susan and I left to make our way home. I pulled into the garage just as Susan was getting out of her car. Once inside we embraced and Susan asked me how long would it take to get to Baltimore and visit the orphanage. I managed to book a Delta flight leaving the next morning at 6:55am arriving in Baltimore at 10:27am. We arrived on time and rented a car for the short drive to Saint Mary's. Susan and I met with Sister Mary Kathryn in her office and she remembered me. "In answer to your question," she said smiling, "the girls are safe here at Saint Mary's. But there are some issues with them." "Issues? What kind of issues?" I asked. "The girls are very, very close to one another. So we want to see them both adopted together into a family. Most of our clients only wish to adopt one child. So that is the first issue." "The second problem is that the girls are absolutely terrified by men. They refuse to be in the same room, let alone talk, with them." She explained to Susan and me. "Is there anything else?" Susan asked. "Do they have health issues? What about their language skills?" "They have no health issues and their English language skills have progressed remarkably," the Sister replied. "Their issues are mostly emotional ones based upon their experiences prior to coming into our care." "Can we see the girls?" I asked. "I don't see why not. But be prepared for a meltdown when they see you Mister Martin." Picking up the phone she made a call. "Sister Agnes please bring Azra and Sima Sharif to my office. Thank you." "Mrs. Martin, please stand next to me and Mr. Martin please sit on the sofa over there. That way you'll be somewhat screened from them when they come into the room." A few moments later there was a soft rap on the door and Sister Agnes came in holding each little girl's hand. Speaking to the two girls Mary Kathryn said in a soft voice. "Azra, Sima. This is Mrs. Martin and she has come a long way to visit you. Isn't that nice?" The girls timidly nodded their heads, yes. Sister Agnes released their hands and gently guided the children forward into the room. Sister Mary Kathryn continued speaking to the girls in a low, soothing voice, "and there is someone else who, also, wants to see you." She stepped aside so the girls could see me sitting on the sofa. A look of recognition swept across the face of Azra, the older of the two, and she began screaming and ran, not away from me but toward me. "Usafas, Usafas," she yelled launching herself into my lap. Her sister was not far behind her and I found myself being hugged tightly by the two girls. After a few moments when I managed to settle them down somewhat I glanced at Sister Mary Kathryn and Sister Agnes. They both had looks of astonishment on their faces. Susan joined us on the soda and soon Sima cuddled up to her asking, "Does 'Usafas' belong to you?" "No." Susan replied. "We belong to each other. He is my husband and I am his wife. We love each other very much." "We love him, too." Azra said. "We'll leave you four alone to get acquainted." Mary Kathryn said, smiling, as she and Sister Agnes left the room. We spent the remainder of the afternoon talking about what had happened since that day almost a year ago. The girls told us about how scared they were when they left Afghanistan. "We rode on a bus with the rest of the children and the good Sisters. There were soldiers dressed like you riding in trucks in front of us and behind us. We looked very hard to see you, but we didn't." Azra told us. "We got on an airplane, a big airplane, and I was very scared." Sima interjected. Azra continued saying. "We rode for a long time and fell asleep. We woke up when we landed and they brought us here. It is nice here and we feel safe but we missed you. Sister Agnes told us if we prayed very hard Jesus would hear us. So we prayed every night for you to find us." The girls took Susan and me for a walk around the orphanage. It was a nice place. There was a shaded garden with benches to sit on and enjoy the flowers and a small fish pond. A children's play ground, complete with slides and swings, was provided for the kids. After supper we said good-night to Azra and Sima telling them we would see them the next morning. Susan and I found a small hotel not far from Saint Mary's. The sign outside indicated they had vacancies. Once in the room Susan began talking to me. "Scott, those little girls are absolutely adorable. You would never know, by talking with them, just how tragic and hard their lives have been. They need us, Scott, and we need them in our life." I have always been amazed just how in tune Susan and I are in our thinking. She said exactly what I had been on my mind all along. "You are right, sweetheart, you are absolutely right. We'll speak with Sister Mary Kathryn first thing tomorrow and get the ball rolling to adopt them." I said as I embraced her and we fell onto the bed with our arms wrapped around each other. The next morning Susan and I spoke with Mary Kathryn concerning our wish to adopt Azra and Sima. She was not surprised with our request. She assured us she could have the paper work completed and filed by the middle of next week. Mary Kathryn, again, called for Sister Agnes to bring the two little girls to her office. As soon as they came into the room and saw us their faces lit up with delight. They rushed over to us and gave us both hugs and kisses. Lost Then Found Sister Mary Kathryn asked us to all be seated and then proceeded to ask the girls what they thought about being adopted by Susan and me. Sima asked what did adoption meant. It means that you would legally become their daughters and your last name would become Martin she was told. "Does that mean they would become our mommy and daddy?" Azra asked. "Yes, Azra." Sister Mary Kathryn answered, smiling. Both girls squealed with joy. "I told you, didn't I? If we prayed to Jesus hard enough last night he would make this happen," Azra said to Sima, "and he did. He answered our prayers." The following Wednesday the four of us were on a flight headed back to Jacksonville. This time each girl had a seat by the window. I sat next to Sima and holding my hand tightly she looked at me and said. "I'm not scared anymore, daddy." My heart melted with those words. ****************** Susan had called Uncle Mike and Aunt Barbara Sunday afternoon told them of our plans to adopt two little girls. She asked her aunt for a favor and was assured everything would be taken care of before our return. The day before we left I informed Uncle Mike of our travel plans and asked him to meet us at the airport. Both he and Aunt Barbara were there to greet us. Placing the girls into two brand new booster seats the six of us left for home. Uncle Mike and Aunt Barbara soon fell under the spell of these two wonderful little girls. As Uncle Mike and I were unloading the luggage from the car Barbara and Susan took the girls inside to see their new rooms. Both of the girls' rooms were decorated fit for a princess. They were left speechless. But only momentarily as they scampered downstairs shouting for me to come see their new bedrooms. For a few days Azra and Sima explored their new home inside and out. Every few minutes they came back to hug Susan and me before racing off on another journey of discovery. When they asked Susan when they could use the big bathtub on the screened porch we couldn't help but laugh as we explained that it was a swimming pool. "Go upstairs, find your swim suits, change and come right back down. I'll go, change into mine and meet you out by the pool," Susan told them. Five minutes later the three of them were splashing in the pool. Since they didn't know how to swim we impressed upon them that they couldn't go near the pool unless one of us was with them. I hired a young girl from the local college who was a life guard to teach Azra and Sima how to swim. They both learned quickly, but they never went near the pool unless Susan or I were present. By the end of August Susan and I began thinking about school for the girls. We never really knew exactly how old the girls were, but guessed that Azra was now close to eight and Sima five. Susan, using her educational training, suggested we place Azra into the third grade and Sima into kindergarten. On the first day of school I didn't know who was more nervous, Susan or me. Neither of the girls thought anything about it other than it was a new adventure for them. Since Susan worked at the same school she was able to keep an eye out on them. We needn't have worried. Both girls did just fine. One evening as I was putting Azra to bed I sat and listened to her as she said her prayers. "God Bless Sister Agnes, God Bless Sister Mary Katherine, God Bless my little sister Sima, God Bless my brother Thamil in heaven and most of all God Bless Mommy and especially God Bless my Daddy. I love them so very, very much. Amen." Before she got up from her knees she went on saying, "and Jesus if it's not too much trouble could you send a baby brother for Sima and me. We miss our brother and would like to have another one to love. Amen" When Susan and I went to bed that night I recounted Azra's prayer for a baby brother. She told me that Sima had been asking for the same thing in her prayers as well. In late September I received a telephone call from Sister Mary Kathryn. She and Sister Agnes had been sent to Saint Augustine to start a shelter for unwed mothers and their children. "That is just a short drive from where we live." I told her. "Why don't you come and visit us? I know the girls would love to see you." Arrangements were made for them to come and visit the following weekend. "You might as well stay with us Friday and Saturday night if you have the time," I offered. She accepted and said to me. "There will be three of us. Are you sure you have the room?" "Not a problem," I replied. Sima can move into Azra's room and that will free up three additional bedrooms. So we will expect you sometime Friday afternoon. Okay?" Susan and the girls had come home from school a little after two and were changing out of their school clothes so I went out to sit on the front porch. Thirty minutes later a car pulled into my driveway. I could see that Mary Kathryn was driving and Sister Agnes occupied the front passenger seat. Sticking my head inside the front door I yelled, "they're here." Stepping from the porch onto the walkway I greeted the two Sisters. Azra and Sima came running out of the house shouting their hellos and hugging the two nuns. Susan appeared by my side and echoed our two daughter's greetings. Sister Agnes untangled herself from Sima's embrace and opened the rear door to the car. Leaning inside she helped unstrapped a youngster from his car seat. "Azra, Sima, this is Thomas. Thomas, these are the two girls we told you about and this is Mr. and Mrs. Martin, their mother and father," she said introducing us. I collected their overnight bags from the trunk of the car and followed all of them into the house. The girls were not shy and soon had Thomas chattering away with them. The four adults sat on the patio with some glasses of ice tea as we watched the children play with a soccer ball in the backyard. Sister Mary Kathryn told Susan and me about Thomas. He was seven years old and had lived all his life with his grandmother as his mother had died during child birth. His father had abandoned the family before he was born and was no where to be found. His grandmother had brought him to the shelter in Saint Augustine just a few days ago. She had received a diagnosis of Alzheimer's Disease and realized she would no longer be able to care for him. Rather than putting him in the hands of the Department of Children and Families where he would be just another child amongst thousands of other children she came to the church for help. Sister Agnes had located a distant cousin living in Lake City. When the woman was contacted she agreed to provide a home for Thomas. "I did a cursory background check and found out she was a licensed foster care parent with two teenage boys currently staying with her." She said. "I called her and made arrangements for Mary Kathryn and me to bring Thomas to her home this Sunday." "I do have some reservations though. When I spoke with her she didn't ask any questions about Thomas but seemed to be more concerned about how much money the state would be currently paying her to provide for his care." Susan glanced over at me and gave me the 'we'll talk about this later look'. Just then the three kids ran up to us and announced that they were STARVING and how long until supper. "I'll start the grill right now. Are hotdogs and hamburgers okay with everyone?" I inquired. After being assured that it was fine with everybody I got up to start preparing supper. As Susan began helping me in the kitchen she said. "I don't like the idea of putting that little boy in the hands of the cousin, even if she is the next of kin. Something just doesn't sound right." "Susan, I agree. But there's not much we can do about it. I'll talk with Mary Kathryn later and see what she thinks. I know she won't place that little boy in harms way." All day Saturday was spent watching and playing with the kids. I must have spent three hours in the pool playing with them. After dinner on Saturday I loaned my GPS to the Sisters in order for them to easily find their way to the home of Thomas's cousin in Lake City. Mary Kathryn said that she would return the GPS to me on their way back to Saint Augustine. We all went to early Mass on Sunday and the three of them left for the drive to Lake City. There were a lot of tears shed when Azra, Sima and Thomas said good-bye. On our ride back to the house the girls were inordinately quiet. When we arrived home the girls went upstairs to change out of their church clothes. Thirty minutes later they still hadn't returned downstairs so Susan went up to check on them. "Scott, come upstairs, please," she called to me. "We're in Azra's room." I found the three of them sitting on the bed. The two little ones were clutching Susan and crying their eyes out. "Daddy, why did he have to leave?" Azra asked me. "We prayed all night that he would stay and become our brother. Why didn't Jesus answer us?" That was one of the hardest questions I have ever had to answer. Somehow I managed to give them an explanation they could understand and accept. It must have worked for that night, as they said their bedtime prayers, there was a new inclusion to all the other requests. "God Bless Thomas and Jesus please bring him happiness and someone to love him." Late that night I received a text message from Mary Kathryn. It simply stated . . . . . 'unforeseen development . . . . return delayed'. On Monday Susan and the girls went to school and I went over to the trucking company office to see how things were going. I was back home by noon. Over the course of the week things slowly returned to normal and by Thursday the girls were back to their happy and playful nature. Friday afternoon, a little after one o'clock, I heard car doors closing from the front of the house. Checking my watch I saw that Susan and the girls wouldn't be home for at least another hour. As I walked to the front door the bell rang followed by a soft knock. "Hello Scott," Mary Kathryn said to me as I opened the door. "May we come in?" As they entered another voice piped up. "Hello Mister Martin. How are you?" It was Thomas. "I'm fine, Thomas. How are you?" I replied with all sorts of questions racing through my mind. Walking back toward the family room I inquired if they had lunch yet. Mary Kathryn indicated that they had not so I offered to fix them some sandwiches with sweetened ice tea for them along with a glass of milk for Thomas. While they were eating Mary Kathryn began telling me what had transpired once they reached Lake City the previous Sunday. "We arrive just after eleven and found the address without any trouble. It was in a mobile home park. The cousin's home was a double wide trailer and it looked as if there had been an explosion and fire. The entire area was draped with yellow tape proclaiming that it was a crime scene. There were several police officers standing around and one walked over to our car." "I asked what what had happened. Before he answered my question he wanted to know who we were and why were we there. I explain everything to him and showed him our credentials." "The officer then told me that someone had been 'cooking meth' the night before when there was an explosion. Two of the three occupants were dead and the third, a woman, was in the hospital but wasn't expected to survive." "Then another officer came over and the two conversed briefly. The first police officer then asked us to accompany him to the police station and give a written statement relating any knowledge we might have concerning Thomas's cousin." Sister Agnes then continue the narration. "By the time we were finished it was too late to return home so we elected to stay the night. Monday morning we went to the hospital and explained the relationship of Thomas to the woman in ICU." "Since we are both Catholic Nuns we were permitted to see the patient. I went in first while Mary Kathryn stayed outside in the waiting room with Thomas. The woman was unconscious and hooked up to all sorts of machines. It was obvious, even to me, that it was just a matter of time. I prayed over her for several minutes and then went back out." Mary Kathryn then resumed the story. "When I entered the room I observed what Sister Agnes related. The woman was covered in bandages but I was able to see some signs of severe burns. Her breathing was labored even with the aid of an oxygen mask on her face." "I sat and prayed. I asked God to forgive this lost soul and ease her suffering. Sister Agnes and I alternated watching Thomas and sitting by her bedside praying for the remainder of that afternoon and early evening." "It was difficult for Thomas having to wait there with us but he understood that it was our responsibility to provide spiritual support for her." "When we returned Tuesday morning we were informed she died early that morning. Sister Agnes and I decided to stay until after her funeral Thursday afternoon." Before Mary Kathryn could continue Susan and the girls arrived home from school. Seeing Azra and Sima, Thomas immediately jumped up from the table and raced to greet them. The girls lost no time in taking Thomas outside to play. Susan sat with us and was quickly brought up to date with what had occurred. Mary Kathryn then continued explaining what had happened. "We met with the police Wednesday afternoon and were given some very disturbing news. According to their investigation it was Thomas's cousin who was actually preparing the drugs when the explosion occurred. The two boys were heavily involved in the sale and distribution of methamphetamine." "When we heard this information we realized how close we had become to exposing Thomas to this way of life. We thanked God for saving this poor little boy from that kind of existence. We stayed for the funeral Thursday afternoon and elected to return today." "What will happen with Thomas now?" Susan wanted to know. "We'll be looking for another family who will be willing to take him in with them." Sister Agnes answered. "Look no further!!" Susan exclaimed. Looking at me she said. "We want him to stay with us." Six months later the adoption was finalized. In the end Azra and Sima's prayers were answered. They got their brother and Thomas did find happiness and someone to love him. ****************** Epilogue Two years later what I thought I had irretrievably lost I realized I'd found. A wife who intensely loves me and I her, a new career and a loving family. Jake Rivers married the girl in the office that had first welcomed him back. For a wedding present Susan and I gave them a forty percent ownership in the company renaming it to 'Martin and Rivers Logistics'. Maureen met a widower living in the same condo and they got married. I wish her well. She moved out and I sold the apartment, placing the money in a trust fund for our three children. The girls are absolutely thrilled to have a brother. They spoil him even more than Susan and I. Thomas is equally happy to have two sisters even though sometimes he is reluctant to admit it. Yes, I did eventually find out what 'Usafas' meant. One day as the five of us were sitting on the patio Azra turned to me and said. 'Usafas', daddy, 'Usafas'. I finally asked her what did 'Usafas' mean. She looked at me, smiled and said. "Daddy, before I learned any English I thought I was saying, 'You saved us'." Taking Susan and my three children into my arms I replied. "No, sweetheart. It was all of you that saved me."