Lyanna Small has become a cliché. She knows it. She's a good girl in an old-as-time tale, but it's about to take a dark turn. When she makes an irreversible decision that changes her life forever, she finds that sometimes there is only one way out.
Police officer Jack Meyers is fighting PTSD, depression, and a family history of emotional wounds from his childhood and time at war that he can't let heal. When he receives a call for an eighteen-year old making suicidal threats he has a choice; listen to his gut, or let the clutter in his mind let him take the easy way out and believe the girl when she says she's okay.
Jack and Lyanna are two very different people on parallel paths of self-destruction. Neither of them can see that in their darkest moments, they are not alone. When given the chance they'll discover the common threads that weave all of us together.
Sometimes all you need is the gift of seeing how the ripples of your choices can affect not just the trajectory of your own life, but the life of someone you've never met.
Lyanna Small has become a cliché. She knows it. She's a good girl in an old-as-time tale, but it's about to take a dark turn. When she makes an irreversible decision that changes her life forever, she finds that sometimes there is only one way out.
Police officer Jack Meyers is fighting PTSD, depression, and a family history of emotional wounds from his childhood and time at war that he can't let heal. When he receives a call for an eighteen-year old making suicidal threats he has a choice; listen to his gut, or let the clutter in his mind let him take the easy way out and believe the girl when she says she's okay.
Jack and Lyanna are two very different people on parallel paths of self-destruction. Neither of them can see that in their darkest moments, they are not alone. When given the chance they'll discover the common threads that weave all of us together.
Sometimes all you need is the gift of seeing how the ripples of your choices can affect not just the trajectory of your own life, but the life of someone you've never met.
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The three-thirty freight, having passed the marker for the upcoming intersection of Woodville’s South and Main streets, blasted its warning. One long pull on the airhorn as she barreled toward town. The sound, as much a part of the town as the people that lived there, was usually reduced to background noise. Today though, Jack was parked in his police car, a scant twenty yards from the crossing, and he’d become lost in thought, watching as the peregrine falcon that had made its home atop the People’s bank swooped into view. She was chasing a spring rabbit along the grassy embankment near the tracks. Falcon. The word burned in his brain. The bird itself was harmless but irrevocably tied to his best friend, Falcon Reiner. Gone nearly thirty years, but the pain still stabbed his heart whenever he thought about him. The thought, God, I miss him, had just whispered through his brain when the train whistle startled him hard. He jumped, sending his coffee sloshing toward his laptop. “Jesus Christ!” he muttered harshly. But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he heard Gran’s voice scolding him.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” He heard her so clearly it was as if she was standing there shaking her finger at him as she had all those years ago. It did make him smile a bit. The memory of the old gal constantly nagging at him, trying to make him better, making sure he was on a good path, right up until the day she passed away.
“Sorry, Gran,” he said out loud, just in case she was still somehow listening. He looked left and right to see if anyone had noticed, but thankfully no one was around. Nevertheless, it bothered him that he was getting lost in thought more and more often. For reasons he couldn’t yet comprehend, his mind kept wandering back to that day at the cat pond. There, or worse. Thirty years after his deployment had ended, it too kept creeping back into his mind. Why?
The three thirty hit the intersection, blasting through town;
the engineer gave a short tug on the whistle, waving hello. Jack lifted his chin in acknowledgment while the nagging question, why? kept rhythm with the hard clatter of steel wheels on steel rails.
Deciding he wasn’t going to find answers sitting there, he
headed toward Mountain Tower Road to see if he could slow down traffic. Find a car or two to stop, anything to get his mind out of the past. He forced himself to picture the future. Retirement in three or four years, as soon as the kids were done college and off on their own. He and Prue buying a camper, cruising around the country, and the kids settled in their own homes, having a couple of grandkids. He snorted at himself. When the hell did I get so old that I think about grandkids? But then, any vision was better than allowing the past to creep in. The past was what would crush him. The past was where the monster was. Lurking. Waiting. The past was the thing that would eventually destroy him. Jack shook his head and forced himself to look around, see the town and sky. See the present.
It was Friday, and it seemed like most of the world was heading up-country for the weekend. He couldn’t blame them. It was beautiful. Barely the first week of May, which is usually mild in central New Hampshire, but the temperature had hit eighty-five by mid-morning and kept climbing into the afternoon. He drove to the other end of South Road, found a sprawling maple to park under, its shade a welcome relief from the hot sun. From here, he had a good view of the intersection of South Road and Mountain Tower and the long stretch of grassy lawn that the locals called the town common. The bandstand at the far end of the common was getting a fresh coat of white paint in preparation for Memorial Day, bringing him back to the days he, Gran, and the rest of the family would come to watch the annual parade. They’d spend the afternoon enjoying hot dogs and lemonade, catching up with neighbors, and listening to a local band while waiting for the fireworks to begin. Across the street, the barber shop had its doors open, reminding Jack he needed to go in for a trim. The owner of the Village Market was sweeping her front steps. The same steps he used to sit on after riding his bike into town to get penny candy forty years ago. A lot had changed since then, but looking down South Road, he knew the years hadn’t changed the heart and the people of this place. Glancing at himself in the rearview mirror, he wished he could say the same.
Looking at the lines around his eyes, seeing the hard-gained wisdom there, and seeing his once near black hair liberally sprinkled with salt, he felt every one of his fifty-five years.
As the traffic light at the intersection turned yellow, a royal blue pickup was barreling down the southbound lane showing no signs of slowing. Jack shook his head; clearly, the driver didn’t see the cruiser parked on the side of the road. The light turned red just as the truck zoomed through the stop line. Jack threw on his blue lights and pulled out behind the truck. Having seen the cop car too late, the driver knew he was in trouble.
Jack pulled in behind the truck and saw a young man looking at him in his rearview mirror. Just a kid, thought Jack. He got out of his patrol car and walked to the driver’s side window. “Hello there, Lieutenant Meyers, Woodsville PD. Did you see that light turn red as you went through it?”
“Um, yes sir, I did, I just thought I guess, I mean, I um…”
struggling with his guilt, the boy stammered, not sure what to say.
Jack tilted his head; a knowing smile turned the right side of his mouth up a little. “Thought you could beat the light, huh?”
The boy was smart enough to look contrite, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Got your license and registration?” Jack asked.
“Yes, sir,” the boy complied. “Here, sir,” handing the items to Jack.
“I’ll be right back.” Jack turned as if to go, then stopped, “While I’m in the car, I want you to think about what could’ve happened if a car was coming the other way and their light was green.” Jack looked the boy in the eye, “And I mean, think about it. You let me know your ideas when I get back.” The boy’s eyes fell further, and his cheeks flamed hot red.
“Yes sir,” he mumbled.
Jack checked the boy’s license; his name was James Bamford. His driving record was clear, but the truck was registered to his father, Lou. Jack smiled, remembering Lou Bamford. They played football together in high school. Lou’s nickname was Bambi, an odd nickname given that he was six feet tall and weighed nearly two hundred pounds. A defensive tackle who struck fear into almost every offensive line they played. Jack smiled, Bambi. He hadn’t realized the family had moved back into town. Jack walked back and handed James his license and registration. “So, James,” he asked, “What’s the worst thing that could’ve happened?” He rested his arms on the window frame and gave the kid his full attention.
“I guess I could’ve caused an accident,” he replied.
“That’s too simple of an answer.” Jack shot back, refusing to let him off that easy.
“Um. I don’t know what else you mean.” Nervousness covered his face; his eyes darted down the road, to his rearview mirror, then back to Jack.
“Okay, yeah, you could’ve caused an accident. But then what?” Jack prodded.
James felt as if he was failing a pop quiz. “Um, I guess I’d have to call my dad?” James guessed.
“Nope.” Jack said flatly, “You can’t call your dad because you were going at least fifty-five miles an hour, and the other car coming through that intersection was a mac truck. It hit you right here where my arms are.” Jack smacked the door with his hands to bring home his point. “Now I,” he said, pointing at his chest, “I have to go tell your dad you died.” James started to say something, but Jack held up his hand. “I know your dad, we went to high school together, and now because you were racing down the road thinking you’re having fun running a red light, I have to tell a guy I was friends with that his kid is dead.” Jack let James think about that for a minute.
While the boy was contemplating his own death, Jack was trying not to see all the death he’d seen during his time in the war. He was proud of the time he spent in special forces, but there were memories he wished he could forget. Usually, he kept a tight lid on them; being a police officer wasn’t much easier. Car accidents, a few suicides, the unattended deaths of people who lived alone… he dropped a wall on it. Focusing on the present, he addressed the boy in front of him.
“Every decision you make affects everyone around you, even people you’ve never met.” He could see Gran’s face in his mind nodding in approval. Her wisdom moving forever forward in imperceptible ripples.
James looked at his hands in his lap, he knew he should look up, but he couldn’t. His dad was always on him to be a safe driver. “Sir, I’m really sorry,” He looked up into Jack’s eyes at this point, “I mean it, I guess I just didn’t think about that.”
Jack’s face softened a bit. He had kids of his own. He’d been young and dumb once. “Listen, you’re seventeen, you made this mistake this time, but will you make the same mistake again?” He asked.
“No sir, I won’t,” James promised. Jack knew he’d probably run another red light again sometime, but if he got him to slow down for even most of the yellow lights he’d encounter in his life, he felt he was doing some good. Jack wasn’t going to let him get off that easy, though. He reached in his pocket for one of his cards and handed it to James.
“Now, when you get home, I want you to tell your dad why I pulled you over today and then have him call me, okay?” James’s shoulders fell, his head rolled back on his neck, and he closed his eyes. Jack could see the pain of that task taking hold. “It’s that, or I can give you a ticket?” Jack waited.
James took the offered card, “He gets home around six.”
“Good, I’m on till seven.” Jack’s voice was full of teasing. “Tell Bambi I look forward to hearing from him.” Jack walked back to his cruiser with a sly smile on his face.
It was still early afternoon, not yet time for dinner, so he decided to make a long loop around town before heading home for a bite to eat. As he passed over the Pulpit Road bridge, he was reminded again of all the changes that had taken place in town. Thirty years ago, the bridge was little more than an old rusted-out iron frame that wobbled when even the smallest car went over it. Now it had sturdy cement pillars, thick black guard rails, and fresh pavement covering it. I miss the old bridge, thought Jack as he drove over the river. He laughed, admitting to himself that he was becoming a grumpy old man, pinning for the old days.
He was brought out of his musing by a girl, sixteen or
seventeen, and a little boy, around eight years old, with beach towels held over their heads like capes as they ran toward the river. They were laughing; the boy, barefoot, was sprinting ahead of the girl whose red, white, and blue flip-flops kept her from keeping up. They had their swimsuits on and were about to cross the road, heading toward Big Rock Park and the well-worn path to the river. “Matthew!” He heard the girl yell, “look both ways! There’s a car coming!” Jack stopped to let them cross. The boy stopped, and waved with happy enthusiasm when he saw the cruiser. The girl skidded to a halt beside the boy. Jack could see they were brother and sister, sporting the same brown hair, his spiky and short, hers shaggy and hanging down her back in a cute ponytail. The girl smiled, grabbed the boy’s hand, and tugged him across the road.
“Did I catch your name? Matthew, right?” Jack leaned out the driver’s window as they crossed, heading toward the river.
“Yes, sir! That’s me! And I’m a better diver!” the boy boasted. “I love the diving rock.”
Jack chuckled, “I bet you are a good diver. Just don’t jump from the bridge,” he admonished.
“No sir,” the girl promised, “We know it’s not deep enough. So we go down to the diving rock.”
“C’mon, Lyanna, let’s go!” Matthew gave his sister’s beach towel an impatient tug and sprinted across the road.
Jack gave a final warning, as he had to his children years before. “Be careful and have fun.”
“Yes, sir,” the pair echoed together. Then, having crossed to the other side of the road, they ran with their towels flapping, the boy egging on his sister that he could beat her to the rock and be the first one in.
This was a moving and thought-provoking read. The writing flows effortlessly and compels the reader to read on.
The narrative alternates between the two main protagonists, Lyanna and Jack. The author's descriptive writing was very engaging and I felt completely invested in their journey.
I admired Lyanna's strength and bravery when she decided to make the jump with her friends. I also felt for Jace. Society seems to expect men to be the ones to step up to this kind of challenge but he was paralysed by fear. Lyanna's story was well-written and emotional to read. Her pregnancy, abortion and feelings of guilt afterwards were sensitively handled. Seeing her new baby nephew born early must have been so traumatic. So much so that she felt the need to escape. I have to admit to needing a tissue when it transpired how she dealt with this need.
Jack is a police officer with a troubled past. He is haunted by memories of war in particular. This has distanced him from his wife, Prue, as he keeps his emotions to himself. When Jack is unable to save Lyanna, he is devastated and consumed with guilt. I wanted Prue to reach him before he made a tragic decision.
'Please, Jack, say you love me back. Then I'll know I should stay.'
'The thought of leaving tore her heart in two. Staying shredded it into confetti'
Just when I was feeling angry with the author for not giving any of the protagonists a happy ending, there was an unexpected twist. I loved the way she pulls it together with the character, Father Paul, and brings a Biblica perspective to the book where Jack and Lyanna can be forgiven and give life another chance. This is a great witness to the unbelieving reader since it is cleverly woven through the narrative.
' God forgives. God loves us. Takes mercy on us. He saves us. Even when we don't think we deserve saving.'
I liked the premise of ripples on the water, compared to the ripple effect in life. When one person's actions can have a profound effect on the life of another. In addition to being a great read, this book sensitively handles PTSD, abortion, suicide and religion. It would be a great book club read, initiating discussions on these themes.
I wish the author every success with this book and look forward to reading more of her work.