A man struggles to raise his triplets after his wife’s death, believing they were his own.
However, things soon hit rock bottom one day when he meets a stranger in the cemetery and learns the babies he had been devoted to raising for so long were not really his.
Dried, rotten brown leaves crunched under Jordan Fox’s boots as he pushed his baby stroller into the Manhattan cemetery’s ornate gateway.
Dry flowers and half-burnt candles were strewn across the lawn.
A gust of wind howled through the row of Eastern red cedar, breaking the grave silence as he proceeded to his late wife Kyra’s tomb.
It was her first death anniversary.
“We’re going to see mama…” he told baby Alan, one of his triplets resting his bulky diapered bottom on his left hip.
The other two, Eric and Stan, lay in the stroller, watching the sky and babbling at seeing dragonflies.
Upon reaching, Jordan’s heart raced at seeing a silhouette of a stranger, seemingly in his late 50s, standing near Kyra’s grave.
The man adjusted his Irish cap as he leaned to brush the tombstone with the epitaph that read: A twinkle in our eyes & hearts is now on the skies.
— In Loving Memory of Kyra Fox.
Jordan tried hard to remember but could not recognize the tall, stout man. “Who is he, and what’s he doing near my wife’s tomb?” he wondered and approached him…
“Amen!” said the man with a lopsided smirk as he finished with the sign of the cross, grimly turning around to greet Jordan.
He smiled, eagerness filling his eyes as he raised his hand for a handshake but withdrew it as soon as his gaze shifted to the babies.
Jordan’s eyebrows narrowed in surprise. He wanted to know who this guy was and what he was doing at Kyra’s grave.
As far as Jordan could recall, he had never seen this man around before…not even at Kyra’s funeral. “So, who is he then? And what’s he doing here?” Jordan was puzzled.
“You must be Jordan Fox…It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.
Fox,” the guy uttered. “I knew you would come here today, and I was waiting for you. I’m Denis…from Chicago…Kyra’s ‘old’ pal.”
Jordan was a little surprised because Kyra had never told him about having such a friend from Chicago who was old and whose name was Denis.
“Nice to meet you, Denis.
I’m not sure I know you…Have we met before? I haven’t been to Chicago before.”
“Not really! I just arrived in Manhattan.
I found out that…” Denis paused and gulped after seeing the babies again. “Can I see your babies…if you don’t mind?”
Jordan hesitated and pretended to ignore the man’s request because he was not ready to trust his tots with a stranger. Denis took that as a no but wouldn’t stop himself from walking forward and leaning over the stroller to see the other two babies.
“They are angels!
Sweet little cinnamon rolls! They have my nose and eyes…and chestnut hair…” “And those big lashes…I had them when I was little!” blabbered Denis. He then looked up, saying the unthinkable Jordan was not prepared to hear.
“Mr.
Fox, I know this might not make any sense to you, but…I know you’ll be wondering who I am and why I’m here. I’m the boys’ REAL FATHER, and I’ve come here to take them.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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