In this final chapter of My Sister Jackie there is no descriptive sex or sex acts. Instead I'm using this chapter to tie-up the story's loose ends and unanswered questions from the previous chapters.
If you're still with me I hope you enjoy. Thanks for your patience and understanding of the difficulty in writing this story.
Again, in advance please forgive any typos and the occasional grammatical faux pas.
Positive feedback and thoughts are always appreciated.
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I parked my car in the driveway and walked past the realtor's For Sale sign toward a gate on the side of the house that I remembered led to a large patio at the rear of the house. I was relieved that the gate was unlocked. A gentle gust of wind ruffled the leaves on the trees that surround the patio and garden behind the now empty house.
Architecture of the house is a good example of the Monterey Colonial style with thick white plaster walls, shuttered windows, and a large veranda around the second floor of the house. The patio was paved by large terracotta paving tiles that surround the swimming pool—empty except for a thin layer of dead leaves at the deep end. The house sits majestically on the hills above the city.
Sunlight occasionally broke through the clouds and filtered through the trees making patterns of dancing light and shadow on the stone walkway before me. I followed the walkway to the edge of the garden where I hesitated looking out at the city below. As usual, I felt as if I was looking for something but didn't know what.
I followed another walkway past the pool that led to the guesthouse at the edge of the patio. On my right there was a large neglected flowerbed full of weeds. As I stood there, lost in my thoughts I vividly remembered the day as if it was yesterday.
The last time I'd been to the house was well over a year ago, looking for anything that would help me find her. I wasn't really sure why I'd returned now maybe it was because I didn't know what else to do or where else to look. It was one of the last places that Jackie and I were together.
Jackie told me that the house belonged to friends that were out of town and we'd be alone. With a faint amount of pain, my mind still recalled the way we made love that day. Passionately giving, taking, and sharing ourselves with each other, allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. I remember every inch of her naked body, the tenderness of her skin, the smell of her hair and every sigh and whimper she uttered as we made love here in this garden that August afternoon. Sometimes It seems like so little but it was all I had of her to hold on to.
I admit that, as I looked down at the city below, I couldn't help wondering if Jackie was still out there, or if she'd simply gone back to her old life on the East coast and, no matter how long I looked, maybe I'd never find her again? If I ever found her I wouldn't let her go. A decision, one way or another, had to be made, it was long overdue.
I'd try to run over in my mind what I would say or how I'd react if I ever did find her again. Could I be pleasant? Could I act as if I was indifferent about what we felt or shared with each other? Was all of that forgotten or without meaning any longer?
I can easily recall Jackie's face when she and I made love. I remember the way she looked when we made love here on this very patio. That day we swam, we lay in the sun made love; here in the pool, on the lounge chairs and even one time on the lush grass. I also remember how her eyes looked deeply into mine as if she was disturbed about something.
I was deep in thought as I stood at the edge of the patio. Suddenly I heard a soft clipping sound and I realized that someone was in the garden next door. I turned enough to see an elderly woman moving between flowering plants and neatly trimmed bushes. She wore a flower print apron over her cotton housedress, gardening gloves, rubber boots and a large straw hat that shaded her head and shoulders. She was carrying a small, almost flat basket and she'd stop, clip flowers from the stem and carefully place them in the basket. "Oh, hello, I didn't know you were there," she said as she looked up at me. Are you from the real estate office?"
"No, I saw the For Sale sign and thought I'd take a look at the house."
"It's a beautiful house inside," she said. "There've been a lot of people coming by to look at it. Before the owners put the house up for sale it used to be so beautiful...so many flowers." She looked past me and added, "The garden has a lot of privacy but," she shook her head softly and chuckled. "I don't want to sound like a broken record but it needs some work."
"My husband Carl and I were glad when the house went up for sale. They were a nice couple I suppose. They rarely had any visitors—not even family that I could tell." She suddenly looked embarrassed and laughed softly. "Listen to me, I sound like a nosy busybody." She chuckled softly. "If you and your wife decide to buy this house I know we'd be good neighbors." I smiled and nodded but I really was hoping she'd leave me to my own thoughts.
"Well, um, no wife yet," I said with an awkward pause. "I was here once visiting a friend, she was housesitting for the owners. Do you remember her?" The woman hesitated trying to remember. "Oh, do you mean the pretty brunette girl, Jackie?"
"Yes!" I said too eagerly as I turned towards her.
The woman's features softened. "Yes, of course I remember her. She loved my garden." Sometimes she'd just come and sit and we'd talk as I planted. Sometimes I'd see her just sitting alone over by the Iris—the Iris were her favorites."
"Do you know where I can find her, maybe a phone number?"
"No." She paused and looked disappointed before looking down and delicately rearranged some of the flowers in the basket. Lifting her head she looked directly at me and said, "That poor girl, so pretty, and so troubled. She was in love but something wasn't right. It was none of my business and I thought she might want to talk about it but she never did."
"Yes, that's her. Unfortunately, I lost contact with her.
I felt the woman might know more but was suddenly cautious about giving out too much information to a stranger.
"Oh." My disappointment had to be showing on my face.
Another dead end
, I thought.
The woman struggled to remember for a moment but gave up with a sigh and a pleasant smile. "I must seem like such a nosy busybody," she laughed with slight embarrassment. "My husband Carl say's I should just tend to my garden...the roses don't like to be ignored," she said with a soft laugh.
"No, I'm glad for your help, really." I turned to leave and got several yards away.
