Epilogue
“Mom, what are these flowers?” Seven-year-old Jackson O’Neal lifted the dusty picture frame from the back of the mantle where it sat surrounded by an army of family photos. Inside the frame sat three pressed lilacs of different colors. It was Friday morning, almost time for Samantha to drop Jackson off at school on her way to work at the Shelby County Prosecutor’s Office. Jason had already left for work. On Fridays, he liked to leave a few minutes early so he could stop and buy doughnuts for the staff that worked in his investment banking office.
“What flowers?” Samantha asked as she walked into the den from the kitchen.
Jackson held up the picture frame.
“Ah, those flowers,” she said approaching him. “That is a very long story.” She looked down at her watch for a second. “One
