FanStory.com - Unfinished Brushstrokes Chap 25by Begin Again

Eleanor and Jenna had talked for hours, bonding even more than either thought possible. Finally, Eleanor insisted Jenna get some rest, and she faded into the night.

After several hours of restless sleep, Jenna left her bed and sought the comfort of her chair near the fireplace. She reread each letter, scoured the scrapbook, and gently ran her fingers across the soft pink blanket connecting with the love Eleanor had placed upon it. When she put the letters in the box, she discovered it wasn't quite empty.

Two handwritten letters on a lady's fancy stationery addressed to Craig Winslow, Eleanor's attorney, were in the box's bottom. Suddenly, the light bulb in Jenna's mind lit up. She remembered her father had a best friend named Craig. He'd been a fixture at family gatherings, which explained all the pictures and the notes about her childhood. She hadn't seen him since he was a young man, so that explained why she didn't recognize him at the reading of the will.

She opened the top letter and read —

Dear Craig,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you today with a heavy heart and a great deal of uncertainty. As you know, Jenna has become very dear to me. Our shared passion for painting has brought us close, and the friendship we have developed is something I cherish deeply.

However, I find myself at a crossroads. My health has taken a turn for the worse, and I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctors have given me only a few months to live. This news has prompted me to reconsider the secret I have kept for so long.

Knowing that Jenna is my daughter and seeing the wonderful woman she has become fills me with pride and sorrow. I want to tell her the truth about our relationship, to let her know I am her birth mother. I feel she deserves to know, especially now that our paths have crossed in such a remarkable way.

Yet, I am plagued by doubts. Will revealing the truth bring her more pain than joy? How will she cope with the knowledge of her true parentage, especially when I am not long for this world? I fear it might disrupt her life and cause her unnecessary heartache.

Craig, you have been my confidant and support throughout this journey. I seek your counsel once again. Should I tell Jenna the truth about who I am or let her continue living without this burden, knowing that my time is limited? I am torn between the desire to be honest with her and the need to protect her from potential pain.

Please share your thoughts with me. Your perspective has always been invaluable, and I trust your judgment.

With gratitude and warm regards,

Eleanor

Her emotions were running high, and tears of joy and loss racked her body. When she gained her composure, she read the other letter.

Dear Craig,

Thank you for your thoughtful and compassionate response to my last letter. Your support and wisdom have been a guiding light during this difficult time. After much reflection and considering your advice, I have decided.

I will tell Jenna the truth about our relationship. She deserves to know that I am her birth mother, and I believe that honesty is the best path, even if it brings some initial pain. Our bond has grown so strong, and I cannot bear the thought of leaving this world without her knowing how much she means to me.

I am deeply grateful to you for keeping me informed about Jenna's life all these years. Your dedication and kindness have allowed me to stay connected to her in ways I never thought possible. Your updates have been a source of comfort and joy, and I cannot thank you enough for your unwavering support.

I plan to tell Jenna the truth this weekend. Despite the shock, I hope she will understand and perhaps even find solace in knowing her true heritage. I want her to see that she was never abandoned, but rather, she was always loved deeply.

Thank you again, Craig, for everything you have done. I will always be grateful for your friendship and help.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Eleanor

Jenna stared at the letter, knowing that only Doyle's cruel act of murdering Eleanor days before had prevented her from revealing everything.

*****

Dylan had promised to meet Garth for breakfast and invited Jenna to come with him. Before they left the house, Jenna showed Dylan the scrapbook. In the car, she eagerly explained that she was Eleanor's daughter and Charles was her father, though he didn't know.

Dylan was shocked and thrilled with Jenna. He was eager to share things about Charles that had meant so much to him during his childhood and how Charles had been responsible for getting him involved in the art business. He'd become quite fond of Jenna in only a few days and hoped to build upon their relationship and the family they shared.

Once they joined Garth, the conversation turned to the art world, human trafficking, and John Doyle's downfall. Jenna was thrilled to hear that Megan had been rescued along with the other girls and was home with Margaret again.

They devoured their breakfast and were chatting over coffee when Dylan received a text. Having been taught no phones at the table, he ignored it until two more followed in rapid succession.

"Answer it, Dylan. It might be something important." Jenna laughed at him. "It will only take you a minute."

A confused look crossed his face. "It's Uncle Charles's office saying someone is trying to deliver me a telegram, and they need to know where to reach me."

"Text them back, Dylan. There's an office right around the corner. See if they can deliver it here while we finish our coffee."

He texted them where he was and asked if they could deliver the telegram there. It was only a matter of minutes before a Western Union carrier stood at the cashier. Dylan saw him and hurried toward him. After he signed for the telegram, the carrier handed it to him.

He opened it, and the blood drained from his face as he read it.

He took the yellow paper from the messenger and tore it open, scanning the message. His face went pale as he read the words. He hurried back to the table.

"Dylan, what's wrong?"

He slumped into his chair, swallowing hard. "I'm afraid I have some distressing news." Unable to continue, he handed Jenna the telegram.

"Oh, no!" Jenna's eyes flew to Dylan and Garth before she reread the telegram. "It's from an Inspector Morgan."

"Charlie with the Metropolitan Police?" Garth's eyebrow raised. "It must be important."

Dylan nodded. "It's Charles. She says he has forbidden the staff to contact me."

Jenna could see how stressed he was, so she jumped in to finish the telegram. "She says his condition is grave, and she knows Dylan should be there with him.

Dylan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I have to go home to Charles. It may be my only chance to see him before it's too late." He paused and then added. "Jenna — this might be your only chance to meet your father."

Not expecting to hear that, Garth's eyes widened as he choked on his coffee. "Charles is Jenna's father?"

It was Jenna's turn to nod. "And Eleanor is my birth mother."

"Pardon me, but a Bronco just bucked me a good one. I've known Charles for years, and I never knew."

"Don't feel bad. Charles doesn't know either. Eleanor has kept it a secret all my life. Only yesterday, when I received a package she had kept for me, did I learn all the details."

"Wow! And I thought Bayside was a quiet seashore town. I really got that wrong."

"Dylan, you must go." Jenna anxiously urged him.

"I can pull some strings and get you on one of our private jets. And Jenna, I agree with Dylan. You should go, too." Wasting no time, Garth pulled out his phone and called Tango, instructing him to do whatever it took to get Dylan on the fastest flight to London.

Jenna's face fell, her emotions swirling between hope and fear. "You think he's still —" She reached out and took Dylan's hand. "Of course, he'll be there waiting for you."

"I don't know," Dylan said, his voice soft but determined. "But if there's a chance, I want you to have it. You deserve to know him and have that closure. Will you come with me?"

Jenna hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with the implications. Finally, she nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, I'll come. I need to know — I need to see him."

Dylan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll leave as soon as we can. I know this is sudden, but it's important."

"Go get packed. Tango should have all the arrangements set in a matter of hours."

Dylan and Jenna thanked him profusely, and they hurried off to get ready to travel.

*****

Eleanor watched as Dylan loaded Jenna's luggage into the trunk of the limo Garth had ordered for them. From the second she heard about Charles, she'd blamed herself for possibly costing Jenna a chance to know her father. She repeatedly chastised herself for not speaking up when she'd learned who Jenna was. Now, it might be too late.

"Jenna, I wish I'd —"

"Eleanor, stop! We can't turn back the clock, so it does us no good to say what if. You did what you thought was right, and no one, not you, me, or anyone, can say they would have done it differently."

"I love you more than I ever felt possible. My regrets were the time I wasted." Eleanor's eyes were shiny with tears.

"The time we spent together was spectacular, and I doubt I could have asked for more if I had known you were my mother. I love you, too."

Dylan called from the limo door, "Jenna, the driver says we must go. I promise I'll take care of her, Eleanor."

"You better!" Eleanor waved, her heart heavy to see them leave, but knowing it was the right thing for Jenna to do.

Jenna's eyes filled with tears as she looked at Eleanor. "Is this goodbye? Will you be gone when I return?"

"Don't cry, my love. It will never be a goodbye between us. I might not reappear as I've done, but with every butterfly or red cardinal, you'll know I'm nearby." Eleanor had never wished she could hug someone and never let go as much as she did at that moment. Instead, she smiled and whispered, "Now go, your father awaits. Have a safe trip and make mental notes because they are lasting memories."

Jenna nodded as tears streamed down her face, a bittersweet moment of departure. She whispered, "I love you," and then raced to the car, hating that she was leaving Eleanor behind.

Eleanor watched the car pull away from the curb and held the tiny pink blanket to her face, a poignant moment of love and sacrifice. She took one long look around the house, and then, with a heavy heart, she faded away.