Her Guardian Angel

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about sacrificing your dreams for the person you love.This follows the story of 2 sisters who are left completely alone in the world and who have to fight for every little thing.

Submitted: July 01, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 01, 2008



I had lost all my money again and I was livid. Megan was, as usual, the winner. How was it possible that such a little person remained the unbeaten Monopoly champion? I was quite a sore loser and the only thing that would make me feel better now would be to fiddle around on my guitar for a while. As I sat down on my bed, I heard Megan’s tiny little steps as she bounced down the corridor. Then she started singing some or other made-up song in her bedroom. I laughed at how incredibly cute she was. Sometimes, however, I wished she’d be a little quieter when I was working on a new song. “We’re going to the bank quickly, Justine. We’ll be back soon. Love you guys,” my mom screamed through my bedroom door. “Yeah… okay, whatever…love you too,” I replied, slightly annoyed. It was so difficult to concentrate with all the irritating interruptions at my house.

I had the habit of becoming completely absorbed in my music and time passed away without any notice. I had just finished my new song and I realised that I should check on Megan and make sure she was alive and so on- as was expected of a responsible older sister. “Why are Mommy and Daddy taking so long, Justine? They’ve been gone for ages,” Megan said, completely distressed about something I considered very silly. “They probably stopped for tea somewhere. Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.” As I said that, I looked at my watch and was admittedly a little worried. They had been gone for almost two hours already. No, we were just worrying about nothing as usual. They would be back in a little while.

But they weren’t back in a little while. Another hour passed and I decided it was time to phone them. When I tried phoning my dad, however, his phone rang persistently, but he did not answer. It was so annoying when he ignored his phone. Next I tried my mom’s phone. It rang for a long time before she finally answered my call. “Where are you guys, Mom? We’ve been waiting for hours!” I exclaimed, completely peeved. The voice on the other side of the line did not belong to my mom, however. It did not belong to my dad either. “Hello. My name is Inspector Moolman. I assume that you’re Mrs van Rensburg’s daughter…” What was going on? If someone was playing a practical joke on me... “We haven’t had a chance to contact the family members of the victims yet and…” “Wait, what do you mean, ‘the victims’?” I screamed into the phone. It was suddenly beginning to feel like a horror movie. “I am sorry that I have to tell you this over the phone, but there was a robbery at the bank earlier this afternoon. The bank robbers opened fire and five people were killed. I am sorry to tell you this, but your parents were among the victims. They have been transported to the morgue and you will need to go there in order to identify them.” At that point, the room started spinning and I dropped the phone as I fell to the floor.

When I regained consciousness, Megan was sitting next to me. I struggled to remember why I was on the floor. Suddenly, it all came back to me. “Oh no…it can’t be…it’s not possible…God please no…” I was completely distraught and I almost forgot that Megan had no idea what was wrong. It broke my heart that I needed to be the one who told Megan the news that would change her life forever. “Mom and Dad…they aren’t ever coming home. Mom and Dad are dead,” I said bluntly, not being able to say it in a nicer way at that point. Megan’s face went white. She turned around and walked towards her room without asking for the details.

I could not bring myself to go to the morgue alone so I contacted one of mom’s friends. It did not make my task any easier though. Her friend offered to help me plan the funeral, but I wanted to do it alone. They were my parents and I owed them at least that much. Megan had not said a single word in two days. I decided to leave her alone, because I did not know what to say to make it better anyway. The funeral was that weekend and after that, it was time for all the legalistic issues. I needed to make a claim on my dad’s life assurance policy and find out whether my parents had appointed a guardian for us.

“What do you mean, I can’t claim on the policy?” I shouted at the uncooperative man. “Although the legal age has moved from twenty-one to eighteen, it was specified that you would have to be twenty-one to claim. Therefore, I can’t help you at this point in time,” he replied calmly. I slammed the phone down, realising that we were officially broke. After that, I went to see my parents lawyer, just to find out that they hadn’t quite gotten around to setting up a will yet or deciding on a guardian for us in case of their death. We didn’t even have grandparents to look after us anymore. I suppose Mom and Dad never thought they would both die and leave us here to fight for ourselves. At least I was already eighteen, done with school and legally allowed to look after myself. Megan, however… I had two options: either Megan went to Child Services or I became her guardian. Obviously, the choice was simple. No one else was allowed to come near my sister. It would just be the two of us, and somehow we would find a way to make it work.

A few weeks after the funeral, we packed up our lives, got into our…absent…parents’ car and drove off to find greener pastures. We had to move to a bigger place, where I would be able to find a job. Although Mom and Dad’s friends really wanted to help us, times were tough and no one could afford to support us as well as their own families. I understood that and did not resent them for it. All we left our rented house and town with, was a car full of bits and pieces and a few thousand rand from the furniture we sold. It would be enough to get us through the first month of city life. Soon after we had started our little road trip, Megan began to cry uncontrollably. The past few weeks of loss and heartache had just caught up to her. I had never seen my little sister hurting so bad before and I felt a little part of myself dying.

As we drove into Grahamstown, I heard Megan sighing from the back seat. It was a sigh of hopelessness and grief. I understood how she felt: that place would never truly be our home. Before we moved, I did a lot of research on flats available to rent in Grahamstown. Miraculously I managed to find something in our meagre price range. Our new ‘home’ was a bachelor flat in an elderly woman’s backyard which was barely big enough for one person. The flat came furnished with a single bed, couch, stove, fridge and a small black and white television set. “At least we’ll still be able to watch 7de Laan,” I said to Megan, trying to be optimistic. Megan was not impressed.

Megan needed to go back to school. I refused to let my sister’s entire life be messed up, because of a lack of education. Although I myself could at this point no longer pursue my dreams of studying music at Kovsies, my sister would finish school, go to university and study something she had a passion for and eventually get an awesome job. No matter what happened to me, Megan would succeed. Paying school fees was not an option though as we only had enough money to pay rent for a month or two and buy some basic groceries. Paying for petrol was already a bit difficult, but we needed a car, because it was too far to walk everywhere. I contacted every primary school in the area to discuss school fees, payment options, exemption from paying the fees and any other available options with them. Two of the schools informed me that they offered a bursary for exceptional students: students who excelled in sport, schoolwork, music or artwork. This information filled me with hope, because Megan had always been an extremely bright student, even at her young age. I knew that with references from her past teachers and her previous report cards, the possibility of Megan receiving a bursary was well within reach. I immediately started searching for her previous school’s contact details as Megan silently continued to watch endless infomercial reruns.

About a week after I sent the application forms and references in, one of the schools contacted me. I was so ecstatic just to hear back from them that I almost burst out laughing in relief. The school board was very impressed with the things they found out about Megan and they were considering her application for the bursary, very much in favour of her acceptance. They did, however, want to conduct a face-to-face interview with her the next day, before a final decision would be reached. I could not help but worry about the interview a little. Megan had- understandablely- not been herself lately. She withdrew into her own lonely, depressive, secret world in the weeks that had passed since the shooting and I wasn’t sure whether she would be able to convince the board that she was a stable young lady with great potential. The Megan I used to know was slowly disappearing completely. Only forgiveness would bring her back. I needed to speak to her very seriously about her required attitude and behaviour the next day and I silently prayed that God would open her eyes to the fact that she desperately needed this bursary; her future depended on it.

She was watching infomercials when I approached her and I was expecting it to be a difficult conversation. “Megan, we need to talk. The school wants you to come for an interview tomorrow in order for the board to come to a final decision regarding the bursary.” To my surprise, Megan smiled for the first time since Mom and Dad’s death. “I suppose I’ll need to be super polite and nice, just like Daddy always taught me,” she said calmly. “Jesus has been doing something in my heart. He wants me to let go of the anger and stop walking around like I ate a lemon!” she said with just the hint of a smile. Mom always told us that no one likes Christians who look as if they have swallowed a lemon. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you, Justine, but I’m going to make it up to you. One day, I’ll make you proud.” My eyes began to water, “You’ve already made me proud, Megz.”

I was struggling to find a job. I had been to almost every coffee shop and restaurant to ask for a waitressing job, but I had been turned away every time. Maybe it was time to settle for something lower than a waiteressing job. Beggars can’t be choosers. Fortunately, we were okay for the moment: we still had some money in the bank from the furniture we had sold.

“I got an ‘A’ for my Maths test!” Megan said, radiating her old self-confidence. She managed to impress the School Board at the interview a few weeks earlier, and was given the bursary. The bursary would cover every single expense that was in any way school related: fees, excursions, books, uniform. It truly was a blessing straight from God. Even though I still didn’t have a job, the bursary helped relieve my stress greatly. I knew that things were going to be okay. It could only go up from there.

One night I woke up to hear Megan crying, I assumed that she was probably just missing our parents again and I decided to pretend that I was still sleeping, in order to give her some privacy as she grieved her loss. There was something different about her cry that night though. Something wasn’t right. I got up and found her sweating and shaking uncontrollably. Something was very definitely not right. Megan was burning up and I knew that I needed to get her to the hospital immediately. The thought of losing her filled me with fear; she was all that I had left. I prayed aloud as I rushed her to the hospital and she hardly seemed to be aware of what was happening around her. They took Megan away from me and I waited in the waiting room for more than an hour. The uncertainty was driving me crazy. At last, a doctor came to speak to me. Megan had picked up a very serious flu virus and she had to be attached to two drips and stay in hospital for the night, but she would be okay soon. I thanked God that Megan was alright, but I was a little worried about something: it would not be cheap for her to spend the night in hospital. I was counting on the money from our sold furniture to keep us alive while I searched for a job, but the money was almost done: the hospital made sure of that! As Megan and I drove home from the hospital, I felt a little despondent about our finances, but still grateful that Megan was feeling better. I was incredibly worried about her the previous night: losing her too would have destroyed me. Megan hummed a happy song in the back seat, seemingly unaware of my financial worries.

There was nothing to eat and no money with which we could buy groceries. “I’m so hungry, Justine…” Megan was lying on the bed rubbing her tummy. It killed me to hear my little sister crying because she hadn’t eaten all day. Things were looking very bad. I took my Bible and sat down in the shower, the only place I could have a little privacy. Then I cried and prayed harder then I’d ever cried or prayed before.

“Megz, I’m home!” I shouted as I came through the door. I was exhausted after a day of job hunting, but the good news was that I had found a job as a cashier in a CD shop. After walking around all day, I was starving. Megan and I had again not eaten that day, but we would defiantly have to make a plan that night. When I walked into the kitchen, Megan was standing at the stove, stirring something. “Look, Justine! I’m making supper. The landlady gave me R20 to wash her car and I bought a small packet of rice and a few sachets of tomato sauce at the corner shop. It’s almost ready,” Megan said proudly. I wasn’t happy about Megan walking to the shop alone, but I was too tired to reprimand her, so I gave her a hug instead. Under normal circumstances, I would have cringed at the thought of pink, tomato sauce flavoured rice, but that night, it was the best thing I had ever eaten.

“So basically, you just have to sit here and look pretty and if someone can’t find the CD they want, you help them find it. Simple as that. Any questions?” The manager, Mr Orwin, who was asking me this was an impatient looking man wearing really ugly pants. “No, I think you’ve covered everything. I’ll be fine, thank you,” I replied, forcing myself not to giggle at his ridiculous outfit. Megan would crack up if she saw his pants. I couldn’t believe that I was actually sitting there. It felt so unreal having a source of income! I just had to get through my first week and then Megan and I could go grocery shopping. Megan had lost a lot of weight in the last two months. I didn’t know if it was as a result of the stress because of Mom and Dad’s death or just because we had hardly eaten anything in the past two weeks. Well, that was over now. The cashier job wasn’t going to make me rich, but at least we could afford bread again.

I heard the little bell above the shop door tinkle and looked up to smile at my first customer. As our eyes met, I felt a little shiver go up my spine. Just first-day nerves I suppose. The man didn’t look away as he walked towards me with a confident ease. He was one of those people who seemed to stare right at your heart. I didn’t want him to see my brokenness. “Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. I seem to have forgotten what it feels like to be in the company of someone captivating. Would you be so kind as to remind me?” he asked with an easy smile. He had just lost every bit of credit worthiness by handing me a pickup line. “Good morning. If you require assistance in finding a CD, please don’t hesitate to ask,” I said, making it purposely obvious that I was ignoring his introductory question. He seemed to realise that his charm wasn’t working on me and he grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I have a problem controlling the lame comments that come out of my mouth sometimes. I obviously forgot to take my ‘gentleman pills’ this morning. Let me try that again: Hi there. My name is Jack and I’m actually a pretty decent guy.” I could not help but glance over him for a second. He was wearing torn jeans and a green shirt that really did something for his eyes. Cute, but too much of a chancer. I smiled politely, “As I said, if you need any help in finding a specific CD just let me know.”

“You should have seen the manager’s pants, Megz! It was so sad,” I laughed as I told her about every detail of my first day at work. I did not tell her about Jack though, because he was silly. Megan and I were lying in the tiny bed together. It was incredibly cold that night and she couldn’t stop shivering. Megan really needed a pair of warm pyjamas. Suddenly Megan stopped smiling. Something was wrong. “What now, Pookie? Was it something I said?” “Um, no. It’s just something at school. I…um…” Megan looked embarrassed. “Did you do badly in your English test?” I asked, worried that she would lose the bursary if she didn’t keep her marks up. “No, it’s not that. I don’t know if you going to believe me or not…maybe I’m just imagining it…” Now Megan was making me really worried. “What is it, Megan?” I said, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. Megan looked as if she was about to cry as she said, “My Natural Sciences teacher, Mr Hancock…he looks at me funny.” I wasn’t sure if Megan meant what I thought she did. “Funny? What do you mean, Sweetie?” “He just looks at me in a way that makes me feel weird. It’s scary. Maybe I’m being silly though, so pretend that I didn’t mention it. I don’t want to get him into trouble,” Megan said. Her little hands weren’t only shaking because of the cold anymore. I was furious. How dare that dirty old man make my little sister feel uncomfortable. “No, Megan. I believe you, and I’m sure you weren’t imagining it. I don’t want you to worry about this, okay. I’ll solve the problem. In the mean time, don’t ever stay in class alone with Mr Hancock. Don’t even speak to him. I’ll make this better, Megz, don’t worry.” They were going to get a piece of my mind the next day.

“What do you mean, it can’t be true? Megan would not make something like this up!” The headmaster of Megan’s school was being ludicrous. “I’m sorry, Miss van Rensburg, but we’ve never had a complaint about Mr Hancock before. He is one of our best teacher’s and I trust him.” I was getting angrier by the minute. “Obviously you don’t know him quite as well as you’d like to believe! You should be protecting the students, not the teachers.” To this the headmaster calmly answered, “Megan has been through a lot in the past few months. Perhaps this is her way to vent her anger and to get some attention. I can give you a child psychologist’s number. Maybe you should consider sending Megan for counselling.” I decided to leave before I said something that I would regret.

Where was our car? This could not be happening; not after the previous day’s argument with Megan’s headmaster. “Justine, where did you park the car?” Megan asked, zipping up her school bag. It was gone. “Now I really wish that we had insurance…” I muttered to myself under my breath. All I wanted to do was sit down on the pavement and cry. I wished that I was little again and that I could throw a tantrum and get exactly what I wanted when I wanted it from my parents. But they were gone and I wasn’t little anymore. “It’s been stolen, hasn’t it?” Megan said. She didn’t seem surprised. Megan was starting to get used to bad things happening to us at the most inconvenient times. “Well, we better start walking hey, Justine. We’re already running late.”

It took ages for me to walk Megan to school. I gave her instructions all the way there about how she should act towards Mr Hancock. I was terrified that he would hurt my baby, but I just didn’t know what to do. After kissing her goodbye and whispering a silent prayer that she’d be okay, I looked at my watch. I was ten minutes late for work at that point and I still had to walk all the way there from Megan’s school. I couldn’t afford to lose the job so I jogged most of the way to work while reciting what I was going to say to the manager when I got there.

I told Mr Orwin what had happened, but he didn’t believe me. He said that things didn’t go that wrong in real life and that I should be less imaginative when making up excuses. After he fired me, I went and sat in the little park down the road from Megan’s school. At least he gave me a part of that week’s wages. I watched the people walking past me. They seemed carefree and happy as I had been a few months ago. I didn’t envy them though, because they would never understand the deep love that Megan and I shared. That was the one thing that I had that they probably never would. It was a love that only shared suffering could bring.

In the week that followed, I felt emotionally drained. I walked Megan to and from school each day, but besides that tiresome task, I just lay in bed all day. I knew that I needed to find a new job for Megan’s sake, but I was at the point where I literally could not get myself to face the rest of the world. I woke up with a start. I was supposed to fetch Megan at school, but I had fallen asleep and Megan was probably already waiting for me outside her classroom. I jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of dirty jeans and hurried to her school. When I got there, the parking lot was completely empty. I rushed towards Megan’s classroom, but didn’t see her at first. As I walked closer, I realised that Megan was curled up in a little ball on the steps. She was shaking and I felt ashamed that I had done that to her. Megan looked up with a jerk and I saw a look of absolute fear in her eyes. What had I done? “I am so sorry, Megan! I fell asleep and…” “He…he…he wanted to hurt me…” Megan said, trembling. “Who? Megan, tell me! What happened?” Everything was spinning around me and I sat down next to Megan. “Mr Hancock. I was standing here waiting for you and he came out of his classroom. He asked me if I wanted a ride home. I told him that you were coming soon and that I would be fine, but he wouldn’t go away. He kept insisting that I come with him. Then he grabbed my arm…” Megan stopped to show me the bruises on her wrist. “Did he…do something to you after that, Megz?” I asked, angry enough to kill the bastard. “No, he heard one of the workers coming around the corner and left,” she said quietly.

“God, no! Why are you doing this to us? My job, our car, my little sister…” I felt so powerless. I was wallowing in self-pity as I walked towards the headmaster’s office for the second time in less than two weeks. My cell phone rang as I was thinking of all the rude things I wanted to say to Mr Hancock. “What?” I barked into the phone, my good manners forgotten. “Miss van Rensburg? It’s George Orwin from ‘Music Surge’. I am phoning to offer you your job back. I realise that I was perhaps a little hasty in my decision.” “Thank God!” I exclaimed. “I’ll be in tomorrow morning. Thank you, Mr Orwin.” As I put my phone away, I walked into the headmaster’s tiny office expecting a fight, but his reaction came as a huge surprise. “Miss van Rensburg, I am so sorry that I did not take your complaint about Mr Hancock to heart. He has been fired with immediate effect.” I was confused. I thought that it was going to be necessary to show him the bruises on my sister’s wrist, but he already seemed to know what had happened. “You seem surprised. One of the workers overheard the interaction between Mr Hancock and your sister yesterday and told me about it the moment I came in this morning. I am going to make sure that we do everything necessary to make it up to Megan,” the headmaster said. He obviously didn’t realise that nothing would make up for the feeling of violation Megan now carried around with her.

“How about you let me take you out for dinner to make up for my stupid behaviour the other day?” Jack asked. I had been back at work for a few days. “That won’t be necessary thank you. I can’t go out at night anyway. I have other commitments,” I replied, not intending to tell him what those commitments were. “Oh, I see. Boyfriend? Husband?” Jack asked trying to pry for some information. “Something like that,” I said and he smiled as he made the comment, “I’ll be back tomorrow,” and walked out the shop.

He was back the next day as he had promised. And the next day and every day that followed. I had to hand it to him, he was very persistent, but I wasn’t going to give in. “Shame, you should really go out with him at least once. He’s so cute. Besides, you kind of owe him,” the other shop assistant said. “What do you mean, I owe him? He’s such a chancer,” I replied irritably. I hated people telling me what I should do. “He isn’t a chancer! He’s actually a great guy. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here right now,” she said, obviously a huge ‘Jack fan’. I was confused. “What does my job have to do with him?” “Don’t you know who he is? He’s the owner’s son and he told them to rehire you. I would go out with him if I were you. His family is stinking rich and he is about to get his BCom Honours. Jack is absolutely fabulous!” Now I knew that I could never get involved with him. He didn’t need someone as messed up as me in his perfect little life. I spent the next few weeks explaining this to him, but Jack was exasperatingly stubborn.

“What’s this, Justine?” Megan asked. It was school holidays and I had to bring her to work with me. She was curiously looking at a pamphlet that I had picked up that morning. The coffee bar next door, “The Lounge” was holding auditions for new musicians and the people who were selected at the auditions would get a regular slot to performing slot on Saturday nights. Music was my life. Well, it used to be. I would do anything to perform on a regular basis, but it was pointless to audition. “It would be silly to audition, Sweetie. If I was chosen I would have to play every Saturday night.” Megan looked at me funny. “Isn’t that a good thing, Justine? You love music. I messed up your dreams, but now you have the chance to do what you love again.” I hadn’t realised that she felt that way. “You didn’t mess anything up! I love you and you are all that I need in my life, Megz. I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone every Saturday night. It wouldn’t be fair to you,” I said with a sigh. Megan smiled as she said, “It wouldn’t be fair for you not to audition. God gave you talents and it would be selfish not to share them with other people. Isn’t that what Mommy always said? If you are chosen, we’ll make a plan. This is like a present straight from Jesus and it would be rude to not take it.” My little sister had really grown up very quickly.

The big auditions were that evening and the landlady was nice enough to look after Megan. I had spoken to the manager of the coffee bar a few days before that and she said that she was looking forward to hearing one of my songs. I looked at my watch and saw that it was time to get ready for the audition, but Mr Orwin had asked me to sort out all the CDs and it was taking me longer than I had initially expected. I couldn’t leave until I was done and I didn’t want to risk doing anything that would cause me to lose my job again. Just as I finished my task, Mr Orwin walked in. “I need you to phone all our suppliers before you go. The orders need to be confirmed.” I felt like screaming at him, because I was already late and my shift was technically over. “But, Mr Orwin! There’s an audition that I have to go to and…” “If you are at all interested in keeping your job here, you better do what I asked,” he said with a smug look on his silly face. I decided to get started, because it was a very long list of suppliers.

I ran into ‘The Lounge’ as the last musician was finishing off on a very false note. I prayed that they would still let me take part in the auditions. After much begging and pleading with the coffee bar’s manager, I was eventually allowed to audition. I was nervous as I start playing, but as I sang the first words of my favourite song I relaxed. Music still had the ability to carry me away from all of life’s hardship. I got a standing ovation as I played the last chord and it felt fabulous. I started packing my guitar away as the manager stepped up onto the stage to announce the winners and I could not believe my ears when they called out my name. Someone cleared there throat behind me and I turned around to find two men in suits smiling at me. “Congratulations! You were phenomenal. Justine was it?”

I nodded and wondered why they were wearing suits in such a casual place. “My name is Jeff Gooding and this is Walter Barrel. We are from LMP records and we would like to sign you as our newest musician. You are exactly what we have been looking for. We’re talking your very own CD, performance tours, interviews. What do you say?” It felt as if my heart was breaking. This was my dream, but I had to turn it down. I had a responsibility to look after Megan. I couldn’t go running around the country acting like a carefree musician. “I am really sorry, but I can’t sign with your label. I am my younger sister’s guardian and it wouldn’t be fair to her,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “But, we can make a plan. Someone can look after her while you travel. We’ll pay a babysitter or something,” the man said impatiently. He didn’t understand. No one did. “I can’t go off chasing my dreams before I make sure hers come true. She needs me.” The truth was that I needed her and nothing would change that.

“When are you finally going to agree to go out with me, Justine?” Jack asked me, half teasingly. “I’ve told you before Jack: you don’t need someone like me in your life. I have way too much baggage,” I replied, refusing to allow myself to feel anything for Jack. “But, I don’t mind baggage, Justine. Baggage is what makes life a little more interesting.” “Jack, no…” my cell phone rang at that point and I was grateful for the interruption. “Hello, Justine speaking.” “Good afternoon, Justine. It’s Jeff Gooding from LMP records, I hope you remember me?” “Yes of course I do,” I said, trying to sound polite. “How can I help you, Mr Gooding?” “Well, I got your number from the coffee bar where we heard you sing the other night. My partner and I have been speaking about you and your situation. We realise that your mind is made up about signing with us as a new musician, but we want to make you a different offer. The coffee bar manager told us that you write all your own songs, so this is our preposition: we will pay you, very well may I add, to write songs for our other musicians,” he said, sounding excited, “Not only that, but whenever you are ready to sign a record deal with us, even if it is in ten years from now, we will gladly welcome you into our record family. So what do you say, Justine?” There was only one thing for me to say. “I’ll be right over to discuss the details, Mr Gooding.”

It had been seven years since that day we found out our lives would never again be the same. “Come here, Pookie! I need to get a picture of you, Miss Matriculant,” I said to Megan, feeling more proud than I had ever felt in my whole life. She had somehow, through much heartache, finished with the top mark in the district. Because of that, she was given a full bursary to study absolutely anything, anywhere. My little sister was going to be a doctor in a few years. Incredible. I could feel a tear of happiness run down my cheek at the thought that we had come this far. “Are you okay, Sweetie?” my husband asked concerned. “Yes, I’m better than okay, Jack,” I replied and squeezed his hand. Life was good. I was getting my Honours in Psychology from UNISA in a little while and I was just about to record my first album. Yeah, life was really good.

Jeremiah 29:11

****THE END***

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