Lost And Found Ch. 01.5: Miracles

But...

Somehow, she reasoned with herself, she had to find the strength to continue with her life. To go back home when all this was over with, turn over her mattress, and line it anew. She couldn't wash her sheets clean, and she didn't want to. She only wanted rid of them, of the now everpresent heartbreak and tragedy they represented. Somehow...somehow, chillingly impossible as it seemed right now...

...She had to go on.

Right now, however, in this hospital bed, she couldn't grasp a harsher truth. She was torn. A part of her wanted to stay here, clinging to the last morsel of hope that this all still could be a surreal nightmare. Another wanted out. Out of this place, this despicable experience, every memory of the entire ordeal. And a third part didn't know what to do.

It'll be okay, Pen...we'll get through it. We survived being homeless; we'll survive this.

Are you serious?? Are you really comparing a few months on the streets to what just happened now??

One thing was for sure: she'd need time to be able to recover from this. A lot of time. She was a firm believer in the philosophy that time healed all wounds, all pain, but, oh...this was a rough one. This would require a wealth of time before she felt purely happy again, fulfilled with the things she had and the keys to live her life.

Probably about a decade oughta do it.

She reminded herself that she'd just won the lottery. That she could do just about anything she wanted right now, that fortune had smiled upon her and blessed her with such a bounty...that she could have whatever her heart desired...

...Except...a baby.

Money couldn't buy her this lost child. Not even $58 million. The lotto jackpot now seemed empty and meaningless. When she found out she was pregnant back in June, she was scared, but in a good way. She wasn't yet homeless at the time, and with such a shortage of leftover Jameses, she very much wanted to continue her lineage. Several months in, even through the swelling, the morning sickness, the soreness, and everything else, she had her heart set on giving birth. Well, maybe she'd get another chance at some point in the future, but...

Oh, no. She couldn't think about that now. She'd been hit too hard, and all she could fathom was the possibility of losing another unborn child. No, she'd definitely have to let a long, long while pass before she could even think about something like this a second time. She was still young, only 23. She'd have more chances...wouldn't she?

This was so difficult to consider. It hurt so bad, on so many levels. What to do now? Just go on living? She had the money, but what to do with it? Charity? Perhaps, but...somehow, after this, she didn't feel in such a charitable mood anymore. And she needed something more substantial to fill her time. Something to keep her occupied.

She stayed with Tracy a bit longer, not wanting to be on her own just yet. One morning, Tracy fixed them sausage and eggs for breakfast. Penny took one bite and loved it.

"Mmmm!" she exclaimed. "Oh my God, Aunt Tracy, this is amazing!"

Tracy smiled modestly. "Glad you like it, hon."

"Can you teach me how to make it?"

"Well, sure, sweetie, but it's not very complicated at all. Just a few eggs and sausage patties. Anyone could do it, really."

"Well, then, could you teach me to make more stuff? I'd love to learn to cook like this."

So Tracy shared some culinary skills and tricks with her eager niece. To Penny's surprise, thinking she'd merely fancy cooking a bit, she fell in love with it. Penny didn't remember her folks doing very much cheffing, but the talent was apparently in her genes. Because when she served them her first dish—Salisbury steak with steamed veggies—Tracy commented with one mouthful that it was absolutely delish. That Penny should be a professional chef. Well, actually, what she said at the time was—

"Oh, Pehwwy! Difw ifw afhuhloohwy delihw! Iu hwuh we uh bruhfefwuhfwul hwef!"

Naturally flattered and proud, Penny didn't think a world of it yet. She just liked hanging out with Tracy. And she wasn't very keen on going back to her cold, empty apartment, with that mattress and its melancholy memories. She'd flipped it, laid new sheets and disposed of the old as planned, but the mattress remained tarnished with irremovable stains of blood and heartache. She was afraid sleeping on it would cause déjà vu nightmares. There was also a couch in her flat, but Aunt Tracy's guest bed was much comfier and more welcoming. And Penny liked knowing she wasn't alone in the house.

Also, her small apartment didn't have much of a kitchen. Now with her newfound intrigue and prodigiousness in the culinary arts, Tracy gladly passed over her generous kitchen for Penny to cook to her heart's content. But there were only so many things Tracy could teach her, and Penny soon went from student to full-fledged graduate in her aunt's own private academy. She started bringing home cookbooks and surfing the web for recipes galore. And Tracy started being able to look forward to whatever her gifted niece decided to whip up. Penny was all too eager to get creative with her dishes.

Once she'd absorbed all she could in the one-chef operation at her aunt's, she became hungry (pun intended) for some interaction. To take her craft to the next level. This was wonderful for keeping her busy, but she enjoyed it so much, she wished to be even busier. So she joined a weekly-meeting cooking club just outside Minneapolis. Before she knew it, she was making friends, sharing recipes, trading tips, and coming home to DVR'd Food Network programs. Then came her turn to host at her humble abode—as all members did—which was a little nerve-wracking, but fun. She threw herself wholeheartedly into it through the rest of her 20s. It wasn't often she found things she loved, was genuinely good at, and that carried weight in the socioeconomic world. Unfortunately, she joked to herself, only one field would pay her to jill herself into magnificent orgasms. And she wasn't prepared to go near that field.

The memory of what happened a decade ago was a boulder that wouldn't budge. Not that she expected it to, but Penny could now at least camouflage its presence, hanging things around it. This way she wouldn't forget, but had enough hobbies and interests that the boulder didn't plague her life. And after the same decade with her beloved aunt, they mutually decided that Penny should have her own space. Besides which, craving warmer climates, Tracy herself was relocating, to beautiful San Fran, California. So once more, they met with the realtors, who now had good news to share.

In the middle of town, the Twelve Pines suburb, a new development property named Hect's was going up. Construction was just finished on one of the residential lots, called Randall's View Terrace. Soon the dwellings could be moved into. It was extravagant, but that was okay. Penny's responsibility over the lottery money never waned, and so it remained no object. The minute Penny and Tracy walked in, they knew it was perfect. Case closed. Three weeks later, she'd gotten almost all her belongings in.

It was hard to say goodbye, but Penny was in her 30s now, and could stand on her own feet. And Tracy'd still fly up to see her on holidays. By now the summer of 2014 was approaching. Without need to seek work, Penny was free to essentially do as she liked in her two-story nest. With really no rush, she gradually unpacked her boxes, spending most of her leisure time frolicking in the kitchen with her pots and pans. She went on meeting with her cooking club, eager for the next hosting to show off her new pad.

The rest of the time, she more or less just vegged out and took it easy. Finally, by the time October arrived, she'd grown just lonely enough to want some company. It was time to get herself a doggie companion. And so on Halloween morning, she went to the shelter, fell in love with, adopted and took home a dachshund puppy to be her new live-in best friend. To love, cherish and treasure it as if it were her own child, which it was.

And is.

To be concluded.