Epilogue

It's been 14 years since I first ran into Al on Central, 14 years since we got married literally on the spur of the moment. It's been 10 years since Darvin and I flew to Phoenix to bring her home. In a lot of ways that encounter in Phoenix marks the beginning of our life together, for we'd only had a few months as husband and wife when she fled from Bennie. And though it wasn't easy at first when she came back, Al and I have never been separated since then.

Whatever happened to Bennie I don't know. I never saw him or heard of him after Darvin got from him the story of what had happened that long ago day. Nor do I want to. That's a part of the past that can stay buried.

MJT Christian Fellowship still has a program of witnessing to prostitutes and others on Central Avenue. Sometimes it goes dormant, for it's not easy work, and there aren't always people who can do it. But it's never died out. I haven't gone back to it, though. I've come to the conclusion that God put me into that work so that I would meet Al, and that having met and married her and become her witness, He withdrew the call to witness to prostitutes. I've thought about going back, but I never have, and I suppose, now, that I never will.

Abbie is now nine years old, a healthy and happy child, who takes after her mother. I don't think it would bother me to see another man's features in our daughter, but I'm just as happy that I don't. The past is the past, and I'm ready to leave it that way. I truly did forgive Al that day, and there's no need to dredge it back up all over again.

Abbie has a brother and a sister, who are growing like weeds, and who also take after Al. Little Al has an overbite, like her mother, and Alan Joseph has Al's thick dark hair.

We have a house in the Northeast Heights, not far from the apartment Al moved into when we got married. It's not fancy, but I built it myself, for I now run my own contracting business. We have a great sweep of windows in the living room, which faces the back yard, and through the sheet of glass we can watch the birds at the feeders which Al has placed all over the yard.

Sometimes she'll stand at the glass and look at the birds for minutes at a time. And sometimes I'll come up behind her and put my arms around her waist, and she'll put her hands on top of mine where they rest on her stomach. And I'll whisper into her hair, "I love you."

And her response always is, "I love you too."