Steps to happiness

PROLOGUE

       Where does a story begin? Beginnings in life are rarely clear, moments when we wonder what we have left behind or will we leave behind? However, there are times when life throws people and destinies into our path that often intertwine with our stories. Fate, destiny, or whatever you want to call it, set us in motion a series of events that could never have been foreseen. I'm wodering why? This is an unanswered question.

      It's five in the morning and I'm still awake with the papers I brought home to study the cases I have from the law office. I wouldn't have come to stay here, but sleep doesn't seem to be my friend anymore. I tossed and turned in bed for a good few hours. I thought what did I do wrong when I loved with all my being? Why was I driven away by Emanuel when he needed me the most? Why didn't he allow me to be by his side in the hospital bed? Leukemia was grinding him, and he chased me from his life, even though I could help him. I am his wife, and I would have given my life for him. I can't explain why he didn't even let his parents help him. I haven't heard from him for years, although I tried my best to find him. It's like he's trying to hide from me. No sign of him. Tears stream down my face, wiping them away with the palm of my hand, preventing them from wetting the cardboard folders. I turn my wet eyes to Hope, my six-year-old wonder. God, I wanted her so badly. God is my witness how much I wanted a child with Emanuel, a fruit of our love. Hope is a wonderful child. A child who needs her father no matter what the situation is, and he should be aware of that. She is the fruit of the love between me and Emanuel, no matter what life throws at us.

           Apart from the sound of fireflies coming from the window, there is a silence in the house that sometimes gives shivers. I live alone with Hope and I decided together with my parents that my mother will come to help me during the hours I am away at the office.

       I have no idea where to start, not because I'm not convinced by the story I'm going to tell you, but simply: is it good to unearth the pains of the past? Would it be better to forget it? I don't think I could because my memories are always refreshed by the last messages Emanuel sent. I don't have the power to erase them, because in my heart and soul I have relived some events of that period.

        Above all, this is a love story, and as most love stories are born out of tragedy, our love story is deeply rooted in tragedy.

     I want to be clear: this is not only the love story between me, Emily, and Nicholas, but the story also has a beginning: the love story between me and Emanuel.

        Emanuel, like me, both grew up in California. I've loved him since I was a teenager, when he had blond hair and eyes so clear, like the sky, and his accent made all the girls melt for him. He was cheerful and a wonderful friend. I could always count on him. I was fascinated how easy he could make friends. He was the most popular high school student, and there was chemistry between us from the first second we met. I know that some may find it so strange that there can be love at first sight, especially at such a young age. The love between us was strong, and we continued to meet even after high school, remaining faithful to each other, even if the university separated us for a while, he was doing Journalism in New Orleans, and I was staying in California, doing the Right University.

       I still remember our goodbye. Time seemed to stand still for us, just the two of us. I waited for him at John F. Kennedy International Airport, and the moment I saw him walk out, it took my breath away. I ran to him, hugging him with all the strength I had, him burying his eyes in my blonde curls, his tears soaking my cloth coat. At that moment he took out a red velvet box from his trouser pocket, opened it, then sat down on his knees and took my thin hand, asking me with a big and beautiful smile:

        "Do you want to be my wife?"

        "Yes! Yes! Yes! I yelled back as Emanuel put the ring on my finger. I was to become Mrs. Claire."

         Emanuel was picking me up in his arms, spinning me, I felt like I was in a movie, a movie where it was just the two of us. Tears of joy lined my face, taking me to a dream world, a perfect world where it was only me and Emanuel. In those moments I took his hands in the cup of my small palm, whispering in his ear:

         "I adore you!"

         "I adore you too, my love! he told me, pressing his forehead to my face, covering it with kisses."

          I look like the wedding was yesterday. Family and friends came to be with us, after which the moment I found out I was pregnant was a crowning of our love, and the birth of little Hope was a blessing. Although they say that fathers are not good with children, Emanuel was my pillar of support. Until nine months, Hope didn't sleep, so he was always by my side. Although he was tired when he came from the newsroom, he gave me a break for a few hours so that I could rest as well. He was the perfect husband and father. The five years of marriage were for both of them, the most beautiful.

        In October 1995, leukemia took over his body, which was fading more and more, melting away like a candle. At that time he was put at the top of the list for a bone marrow transplant, but he did not accept such a thing, chasing me and Hope out of the hospital. Two years have passed since I didn't knew nothing of him, though I have tried my best to find him, but in vain. I don't think anyone will ever fill the emptiness left by him.