Epilogue

Her hands rested on the keyboard of her laptop as she leaned back in her slightly uncomfortable chair. Uncomfortable enough to force her to get out of it occasionally. She deliberately had picked out this chair because she knew herself and knew that if she was totally comfortable, she would never tear herself away from the computer once she started writing. Especially in this beautiful writing room of hers in the top of the three-story brownstone in Hillwood. The late-afternoon January sun shone through the large windows, falling on her face and she turned her head and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth.

It was finished. Finished in a way. There was revising and editing to do, but the main writing was done. The third and last book in a series. The first was scheduled to be released in the fall, a mere ten months away. Her publisher had accepted it based on the success of the first two novels she had released as a young, upstart author. Accepted this trilogy, though it was a complete departure from her usual style. She had never written an action story before. Well, yes in college as an assignment, but nothing such as the scope of this.

She saved the document again, then saved it on the backup flash drive, which she then pulled from her laptop. She was paranoid about losing her work and backed it up every time. A short story, written in college, that she really loved had been lost on a laptop that died as she was writing the last of it. She couldn't retrieve it, no matter what she did. Her friend, Brainy, who was in school for computer engineering couldn't even save it. She had rewritten it, of course, over the weekend, but it never achieved the beauty of the original.

The flash drive was shoved into the firesafe, which was kept under her desk. The editing could wait. She had been working steadily on these three novels for almost a year, ever since she brought the idea up at her birthday party last March. The novels were a memoir, of sorts, so she wanted certain permissions from certain people to write about them. The third book, their memoir, had characterizations of everyone she had grown up with, and she didn't feel like she could write about them without asking them if she could. She was grateful that everyone agreed.

She massaged her extended stomach, feeling the stirring of the small life within. She was glad the bulk of the writing was done before this little girl made her entrance into the world a month from now. Life would definitely be upended as she juggled caring for this new baby and a very active two-year-old, but she was looking forward to it. Having never thought she would be a good mother, or rather having never thought she would even like kids, she found that this stay-at-home mom thing was exactly her cup of tea. She loved it and told her delighted husband after their son was born that she was open to having a few more. She found that playing with her son was a joy in and of itself. She couldn't wait to meet her daughter, though she was slightly worried that her daughter might act a little too much like her. Her husband teased her a lot about that.

Speaking of, she thought, as she heard a soft knock on the door of her writing room. Her husband was ever careful about interrupting her. She was so lucky that he was understanding about her requirements for keeping her creative juices flowing. He was the one who found this house with its' upper story perfect for a writing room. He was the one who worked with his father and her father making the room perfect for her. And he was the one who took charge of Holden when she had the urge to write. Granted, he was between semesters at the moment, so he had no classes to teach and was home, which allowed her the ability to write all day. Usually she had to wait until he came home, or Holden napped.

"Come in!" she called.

The door swung open as she looked toward it, smiling as she saw Holden toddling into the room in front of his father. Holden, named for the protaganist of their favorite book, a book she shared with her husband years ago on the very adventure she had just finished writing about. Holden, who was a carbon copy of his father in looks and personality, right down to his old soul aura evident even at the young age of two.

Her husband grinned at her, an ear to ear grin that reminded her of him as a kid and she had to smile back at him. "He's been asking for you and I ran out of excuses," he said.

"It's ok," she said, laughing. Holden staggered over to her and clung to her knees. "Sorry, little man," she said, looking down at the green eyes looking up at her. "I can't pick you up until Elizabeth gets here."

"Beth," Holden said, placing his hands on his mother's stomach. "Hurry up!"

His parents laughed and she grabbed Holden's hands, lifting them to her mouth to kiss them. He just gave her a serious and grave look before pulling away and wandering over to the corner of the room reserved for him and his toys.

"How's the book?" her husand asked.

"Done," she said with a tone of triumph. "Well, written anyway, I still need to edit it."

"Can I read the last of it?" he asked eagerly. He had been reading along, enjoying it thoroughly as it was his story, essentially. His and his parents.

She turned to slide the laptop over a little as he knelt down on the floor next to her. She scrolled to where she had begun that day, the part where he had first told her he loved her. She knew he did for years before that, but it was the first time he said it. She idly toyed with his shaggy blond hair as he read.

"This is perfect," he murmured, looking up at her with a smile. "Did I really sound that sappy?"

She laughed, "We both did. That's how I remember the conversation anyway. If you remember different, let me know."

He shook his head, "No. Sounds like me anyway. I am pretty sappy."

"True," she agreed as he put his cheek on her belly and tried to put his arms around her, which proved difficult because of the almost nine-months extra weight she carried. She felt him laugh.

"Gee thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Are you planning on letting Mom and Dad read it?"

"When I finish the whole thing. The first novel is done. I'm almost done editing the second. Once I finish editing this, they can read all of it. I hope they like it."

He leaned back, his hands coming to rest on the tops of her thighs. "They will love it, Helga. You captured their story beautifully."

She was uncomfortable with direct praise, so she shrugged. "I tried my best, Arnold."

"'The Jungle Trilogy'," he said thoughtfully. "I can't believe my life story will be a novel."

"Our life story," she reminded him.

She had proposed to tell her in-laws' story in two books. The first book would be about them and how they met, fell in love, got married, their adventures and would end with their disappearance. The second book was supposed to tell the remainder of the story – the missing years, the search for them when she and Arnold were in fifth grade, finding them and Arnold's reunion with them. In writing the second half of the second book, Helga found it difficult to tell the story of their search without having to do flashback after flashback. Her actions, Arnold's actions, the actions of their friends, all needed to be explained. Integrating those explanations into an action novel focusing on searching for the Shortmans proved to be impossible.

When she had expressed her frustrations to Arnold, he was the one to suggest the third novel. "End the second with my parents being caught by La Sombra the last time. Maybe with their escape. Then write a third and tell our whole story, right from the beginning that day at Urban Tots."

"Our story?" she had questioned doubtfully. "Don't you think that would be boring?"

He had laughed, shaking his head. "Think of our childhood, Helga," he said. "How is any of that boring? All our adventures. An epic love story. Everything a good book needs."

She reached up to tweak his nose,"Epic love story?"

"It IS epic, because it's ours," he had insisted, and had given her his cheesy grin, which of course decided the issue.

"Come on," Arnold said, bringing her thoughts back to the present. "You need some dinner and Mom stopped over earlier to drop off a lasagna. She knew you were busy writing."

"Ah, my favorite! She spoils me," Helga said, holding out her hand so that Arnold could help her get out of her chair. "Ugh, I can't wait until next month."

"Me either," he replied, pulling her up to her feet.

It took them a few minutes to pry Holden away from the Duplo blocks he was building with. It took the promise of cookies to get him out the door. Arnold swung the little boy up onto his shoulders, getting a rare giggle from the normally serious child. Holden buried his hands into Arnold's hair and clutched tightly, making Arnold wince.

Helga laughed, cautioning Arnold to be careful not to knock Holden's head on the door jamb. Arnold just gave her a look and rolled his eyes before ducking out of the room. "Cookies, Momma!" Holden called back to remind her of her promise.

"Yes, I'm coming," she said. She closed her laptop gently and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Note: It is so nice to now mark this as complete! Thank you so much again for coming along for the ride! Enjoy the real Jungle Movie!