The Story of Florence and Mr. Elliot

Epilogue

18 years after 1990…

            “Dad,” A voice said, breaking Benjamin Elliot’s thoughts. He looked up and saw his daughter, now eighteen and in her last year of high school from the same high school her mother went to. She stood in front of him in blue jeans and a black and red plaid shirt, a black bag hanging from her shoulder. “It’s time to go, Dad.”

            He yawned and got up, picking the book up, too. “Sorry, I am really tired.”

            “Yeah, me too. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? I mean, after all, today is the day mom died.” The short girl looked up at her father

            “Well,” He sighed. “That’s true but I’m not letting it get to me,” He looked down at her. “By the way, Nora, I have something for you.” He handed her the journal.

            “Oh-Cool. What is it?” Nora asked him confused.

            “Your mother wrote that before she died. It is the story of her and how we fell in love. I mean, it’s written about a girl name Lora Foot but she represents your mother. I want you to read it because when I read it, it opened my eyes. And it will be a great way to get to know more about her.”

            Nora put her arms around her dad. “Thank you, Dad.”

            Ben hugged her back. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

            She let go and opened the journal. She read a small note pasted to the front page.

 Dear Nora,

            You probably don’t remember me-I don’t know if you found this or if your father gave it to you- but I am your mother, Florence Elliot, previously known as Florence Harper-Jennings. God, I wish I could’ve met you. I wish I could’ve seen the beautiful girl-or woman- you have become. But I just want you to know I love you and that don’t ever let someone slip away from you; if you love someone, you go for it. You hold them close and never let them go.

                                                                                                            Love, Your mother Florence

            Nora smiled and looked at her dad. “Can we go to her grave today, Dad?”

            “Certainly.”

            Benjamin Elliot, now a forty-two year old man, hugged his petite daughter to him as they walked out of the school.