Indigo 1st chapter of Book 2

Chapter 1 (first draft)

Explosions of rain battered against the thick glass dome of Kyrian. Tryhn closed her eyes and focused on her breath in an attempt to block out the roar and pounding echos of the storm, but she knew it would do no good. No one could block out the deafening shrieks of the Torrent Ring's canyon tops. 

As she stood on the dock standing at the ready, she tightened her folded arms against her bone-chilled chest and shifted her weight to her right leg. Her thick ductile jumpsuit stretched across her body and form-fitted around her curves. Dulled to gray and tattered at the seams, the suit told a story of an ugly life stretched taut. It was originally engineered to lock in a comfortable body temperature for the wearer, but this secondhand piece, swiped off the body of a dead migrant, barley managed to keep Tryhn's body heat above hypothermic levels and her soaked feet attested to how well the waterproof mechanism was working. 

Tryhn caught a glimpse of her reflection against the polished rose gold bulkhead of her small ship. Her long dark hair was tied up at the top of her head and dozens of braids plaited in varying thicknesses cascaded from the knot and looped back around forming a long eyelet. She would have had a thin build, but her silhouette was thick and toned, the result of her line of work. Tryhn had a dark oval face and she remembered being told her features were striking, but the rain and rock of Torrent kept her face streaked with dirt and solemnity. 

She gazed across Kyrian, a small dirty port stealthily hidden on the northeastern edge of the Gaitia. It was populated with criminals, outcast vagabonds, poor migrants, and anyone else who wanted to pass through the Gaitia who might otherwise have been denied entry by the Diab soldiers who controlled the border.  

Alternative Story to "Leap!"

So, I've been watching the movie, "Leap!" a lot lately. My 4-year-old boy loves watching documentaries on the deadliest animals in the world. He'll stare at Nile Crocodiles taking down a cow all day long, or watch a lioness and her pride shred a zebra to pieces. He also likes watching PJ Masks, Octonauts, Digemon fighters, and a show where theses fighters throw exploding monster slugs at each other.  But then he also likes "Leap!" and "My Little Pony" and "Sophia the Great" and "Spirit". Shows that a socially restrictive society would call "girl shows". Whatever. The "girl shows" teach friendship, loyalty, and following your dreams so I'm totally cool with it.

Anyway, we've watched "Leap!" probably 6 times in the last 2 weeks. Have you seen it? It's about an orphan who becomes a ballerina? I wanted to love it. I wanted to so badly. But watching the movie hurt my heart. It really did. And it's not just because the storyline is horrible, the script is ridiculous, and the voice acting is forced and unnatural (except for Carly Rae Jeppsen and Kate Mckinnon because I love them. Elle Fanning is pretty good too except for the fact that she sounds like a 40 year old woman...there are other good voice actors, but no amount of voice acting skill can fix a bad script) the real reason the show hurts my heart is because the animation is so freaking amazing! It's gorgeous!! A visual masterpiece. The facial expressions, the creative cinematography, the beautiful dancing. It's brilliant and I was so incredibly disappointed the story didn't match that brilliance. I mean, there are parts of the plot that could have been cool. An injured ballerina, turned cleaner, turned teacher and the scene where Elle Fanning is dancing at the bar (except for there's no build up to that scene and it's more like, what the heck is happening? How did we get to dancing on the table tops?) But the story was mostly disappointing.

Anyway, I was so bothered by the lack of a good story I decided to write my own orphan ballerina story. So here it is: my alternative story to "Leap!"

Story Outline

1880 Paris

Preface

Diana was talented ballerina with a promising career. She came from a wealthy family who funded her ballet training. Diana was vibrant, vivacious, and loved dancing more than anything. Her passion fueled her success and when she was only 18-year-old the company was ready to name her the prima ballerina of Paris’ Grande ballet.

Days before Diana was scheduled to formally accepted the role as Prima ballerina, it became known that she was pregnant out of wedlock, abandoned by the father. The ballet quietly turned her away and informed her family.

When Diana’s family found out about the baby they insisted she terminate the pregnancy and if she refused they would cut off her monetary allowances and disown her. Diana did refuse and her family followed through with their threat and cut all ties. Diana was left on her own. The ballet company had compassion on her and though they would no longer allow her to be seen at the ballet, let alone dance, they did offer her a job as a scullery maid downstairs in the school’s kitchen.

Disgraced, Diana kept to herself and stayed in the shadows, away from the view of her former friends and ballerinas. The head kitchen maid, Alice, a plump older woman who yelled a lot, took Diana under her wing and looked after the girl during her pregnancy. Diana loved her unborn baby and was convinced it would be a little girl. Alice and Diana spent the evenings by the fire envisioning what it would be like to cuddle and spoil their “little pearl.” And when Diana would feel her baby move within her she would happily exclaim, “She’s twirling! A perfect little ballerina even now.”

Little Claire was born on a bright summer morning. Diana wouldn’t let anyone else hold her once Alice and the midwife finally placed the baby girl in her arms. Snuggles, kisses, and lullabies filled the months and years following. Baby Claire learned to walk early at 9 months and she began dancing soon after. Claire and Diana would often laugh and dance together in the kitchen and then Diana would take out a delicate pearl necklace, a remnant of her past life, and drape it over her baby and whisper in her ear, “I love you my beautiful little pearl.”

Although they lived a simple life, Diana was happier than she had ever been. But a dark wave of influenza struck Paris and when Claire was only 3-years-old Diana became afflicted with the condition and died. Alice wept for days holding little Claire against her chest and cried, “Your mother will always love you, little pearl. And you will always be loved by me.”

-----------------

• After 6-year-old Claire was finished with her chores she would secretly sneak to the back of the ballet’s great stage and hide behind the dusty black curtains to watch the ballerinas. She would often play with the ballerinas and they would teach her the 5 positions. Claire would dance all the time and loved hearing stories about her talented mother. Alice wished she could pay for Diana to go to ballet school, but even if she could miraculously find the money, Alice knew the ballet and public would never accept her because of her illegitimate birth.
• An old, smartly dressed women comes to the ballet seeking the daughter of the late Miss Diana Bernard. She was quietly lead to the downstairs kitchen and met with Alice. The older woman introduced herself as Ms Francesca Martin, Diana’s maternal aunt, and Claire’s great aunt. She learned through the grapevine of Diana’s misfortune: the unplanned pregnancy, the loss of her inheritance, and her untimely death. Francesca said that the family was originally told Diana went to live with relatives in the united states and only recently learned that there was a baby. Francesca said she was the black sheep of the family and never feared scandal. She herself was an unmarried, self-made millionaire who never cared one wit about what society made of her. She said she had come to take the young girl and give little claire the life she deserved, the life that had been robbed from her mother. Alice was devastated to see Claire go, but she knew Francesca would give the girl much more than she could ever offer. Seeing how much Alice loved Claire Francesca offered to make Alice head cook at her estate. She was in need of a new cook and lord knows Francesca herself had never been good with children.
• Claire loved her new home and learned to love Francesca over time, but she missed the ballet. She showed obvious skill when it came to dancing and when Claire was 9-years-old Alice begged Francesca to send Claire back to the ballet school as a student. Francesca finally agreed and sent Claire off. It was agreed upon that Alice would return to the school as well and work again as a cook in order to watch over Claire, but no one must ever make the connection that Claire is Diana’s illegitimate child or else it would ruin Claire.
• No one recognizes Claire from before and she is only known as the niece of Lady Martin. Claire has a hard time convincing people that she’s a good dancer. The other girls had been dancing since they were 5 so Claire has a lot of lost time to make up. One day Alice takes her out to a diner with other Kitchen staff to celebrate her birthday. The diner plays music and people start cheering to see dancers strut their stuff. Most of the dancers are people of lower class dancing lower class dances. Claire gets excited and jumps up onto the makeshift stage and begins dancing. Her dance is a cross between ballet and lower class dancing. People are beside themselves with awe in seeing a 10-year-old do a beautiful, technically difficult, and wonderful rambunctious performance. The director of the ballet happens to be at the diner that night. He recognizes Claire and chastises her and Alice for being out so late, but the next day he has Claire take the lead in practice and it becomes more and more clear to him that Claire has amazing intrinsic talent.
• Claire thrives as a ballerina and quickly moves up the ranks. She becomes the prima ballerina at age 16 and is incredible. She is able to perform impossible leaps and dance moves that had never been tried before.People come from all over the world to watch her dance. Some say her incredible ballet acrobatics are a gimmick or sensational to a fault, but most people are enchanted by her passionate and exciting performances.
• The former Prima ballerina before Claire was named Evelyn. Evelyn had been the Prima for years until she was injured badly and no longer able to dance. The ballet company refused to pay out Evelyn’s full retirement because the injury happened while she was still in her prime and she was turned out by the heartless businessmen who ran the ballet for profit. Ballet was Evelyn’s livelihood and identity and she became bitter and angry at her situation. She directed her bitterness toward Claire’s success and allowed jealousy to consume her. Evelyn was set on destroying Claire and the ballet school just as she had been destroyed. Evelyn was dismissed without making a fuss, but bided her time until the perfect opportunity presented itself to reap her revenge.
• Evelyn learns of Claire’s background and goes to the papers to make public the scandal. Claire is immediately called out as Diana’s illegitimate child and the ballet school is shamed for allowing a person of her sorts to walk the halls of such an established institution. Some people boycott the ballet calling it a house of filth and sin. The ballet is forced to save face by publicly dismissing Claire. Her former friends, colleagues, teachers, and romantic interested separated themselves from her to avoid tarnishing their own reputation. She returns to Francesca’s home disgraced in much the same way her mother had been.
• Francesca and Alice comforted Claire, they raged with her, and wept by her side. Alice touched the pearl necklace that hung around Claire’s neck, the necklace from Diana. “You will dance again, little pearl. Your mother passed on her passion for dancing to you. You were dancing and twirling in your mother’s womb before you was born, I swear you went straight from crawling to dancing, and I couldn’t get you away from them ballerina’s when you was supposed to be helping me with supper downstairs as a wee girl. It’s in your blood, little pearl. It’s a part of you.” Claire appreciated their love and began to somewhat recover. But soon attention turned to Francesca who was ill and it was becoming clear that she was going to die (as it happens she will die because of an STD stemming from a very eclectic and active sex life, but that’s really her business, so I’ll keep out of it).
• On Francesca’s deathbed she charges Claire, “You must dance again. Do you hear me, girl? You must dance again. I cannot leave this earth without know that you will dance again. Promise me.” Claire was reluctant. Dancing had caused her deep pain and feelings of betrayal. But she promised Francesca.
• Claire knew she would be receiving part of Francesca’s inheritance because Francesca had told her as much, but Claire ended up receiving 100% of the inheritance. Francesca was unmarried and childless and trusted Claire with the money. Claire was stunned at the wealth left to her. She knew her great aunt was wealthy, but she didn’t realize how wealthy. Claire could hardly think of what a person would do with so much money.
• She was out and about one day and noticed a flower girl walking the streets asking for pennies in exchange for daisies. The girl couldn’t have been more than 6 years old and it reminded Claire of herself when she was young. In a quiet moment while she waited for more people to pass by the little girl began twirling. She twirled with her dress spinning gracefully around her as if she herself was a little flower. Claire touched the pearl necklace around her neck remembering her mother and suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to do with the money
• She opened her own ballet company in a different city outside of Paris. It was a dancing studio for less affluent girls and boys, especially those who were considered outcast or the deprived. Each child accepted was given two warm meals a day, taught to read and write, and then taught ballet. She devoted her life to the school and dedicated it to her mother, Diana.
• 
  

The end

The accident

I awoke at 5:30 AM and my parents were almost finished loading our white 1990's van with the blue dolphin stickers on the side. I strapped on my bra and pulled on my Doc Marten look-alike sandals. Brushed my hair and examined myself in my long mirror. I frowned at my small chest. How did all the other girls my age have way bigger boobs than me? I grabbed a blanket and pillows and walked out to the van. I watched my dad gently lift and carry out Caleb who was snuggly dressed in an overstuffed baby coat.

I hopped in through the van's side door and decided I wanted to sit next to a window so I could sleep. I made my way to the back corner seat. Kirsten's seat. Kirsten often reminded us it was her seat and no one else could sit there. To this day I don't know why Kirsten didn't fight me for her seat. If there was one person I fought with more than my mom, it was my sister, Kirsten.

I usually sat next to Caleb in the middle bench and Kirsten sat in the back corner, but maybe she was too sleepy to protest. Kirsten climbed in next to me, followed by Clint who sat next to her. Andre was the last kid in, and he sat next to Caleb on the middle bench. Mom and dad were still outside scurrying around picking up last minute items. My dad slid shut the side door and climbed into the passenger seat and my mom climbed into the driver's seat. The car doors slammed and the engine ignited. I looked at the green neon analog clock on the front dashboard. 6:01 AM. We were leaving on time. A miracle.

"Dad, did you bring the cd's?" Kirsten asked. "Yep, they're up here with Alyse's boombox. We'll turn it on once we reach the freeway."

"I want some juice!" said Andre. My dad unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted behind him to pull a juice bottle out from the cooler. "Maybe I can weach it," Andre offered and he unbuckled his seatbelt to pull out the juice. My dad returned to his seat and re-buckled.

"Andre's not wearing his seatbelt!" Clint tattled.

Dad turned around, "Andre, buckle up." Andre grudgingly obeyed.

"Nu uh!" Kirsten yelled. Kirsten and I were at in again. Arguing about something meaningless. Kirsten had a way of pushing my buttons and I would always stubbornly retaliate. "You guys, Kirsten and Alyse!” my mom groaned, “Please stop fighting. Are you capable of that?"

It had only been about 3 minutes since we pulled out of the driveway. This was going to be a long trip. I leaned my head against my pillow next to the window and closed my eyes. The car fell silent except for my parents in the front seat quietly discussing the best route to the freeway.

"But I can go this way, right? It will take me there?" My mom asked.

"I think so, but I always go the other way. We can try it, though," Dad replied

We had been driving only a few minutes when my mom turned down a dark country road in the middle of a wide field. The van pulled to a stop. The pause was quiet, but it felt queer. And suddenly my mom gunned the engine and the car jerked forward.

And then she screamed.

My blood drained, my stomach pitted, and my gut wrenched in a sickening craze as my mother's shriek ripped through my ear drums, rattling my brain. But the scream was instantly silenced.

A crashing bang exploded against the van and threw my body against my sister and then wrenched me back into a shattering window. Ripping metal, crashing glass, screeching brakes rang through my skull as my pillow was sucked out the window. I dug my fingernails into the cushion of the middle bench as it crushed into my legs while my body flung right and left in surges of psychotic centripical force.

And the screaming. Hundreds of thousands of screams shrieked through the twisting metal and breaking glass.

With a final crashing blow my body slammed against the seat in front of me knocking the air from my chest and then violently whipped me back against the back of my bench. And then nothing.

A deafening silence pounded against my temples.

But it wasn’t silent. I could still hear something. It was soft at first as if it were being pulled out of dream. But it got louder. And louder.

Screams.

Screaming. And shrieking. It hadn’t stopped. And it wouldn’t stop. The screaming wouldn’t stop.

“Alyse”

I could barely hear someone calling my name. It sounded as if they were calling from somewhere in the distance, but suddenly it got louder. And then I realized it was Kirsten sitting right next to me.

“Alyse!”

“Alyse! Stop screaming!”

Kirsten’s tart and merciless words cut through the noise.

“Stop screaming!”

I swallowed hard and clenched my teeth until the shrieks retreated back into my throat. My chest heaved in disjointed rhythm.

And then I felt the burning.

My right leg was burning. Shocks of heat raced up and down my calf. My knee was pinned against the seat in front of me. I looked down and saw my thigh. My eyes widened in fear. It didn’t looked like a thigh. It was twisted and contorted and shaped like an “S”.

I stared at my leg and then slowly attempted to lift it. And I did lift it. Or at least part of it. I was able to slightly lift up the top half of my broken femur while the bottom half laid lifeless on my seat, pinned against the chair in front of me. My stomach turned in sickening terror and I let my bone fall back to the seat.

Andre, the 5-yr-old, screamed in front of me and Kirsten. I looked up.

“My legs! My legs! Help! My legs!”

The driver’s side, my mom’s side, had been smashed in causing a deep concave into the belly of the van. Her seat was mashed right into the middle. Right on top of Andre’s legs.

“It’s okay Andre! It’s okay!” I yelled.

I looked at the driver’s seat and saw my mom. Her head hung by her neck and rested limp against the back of the seat.

“Mom!” But I didn’t expect a response. She must have been knocked out.

“Dad! Dad!” I looked over to the passenger side and I saw my dad moving. The movements were rigid, disjointed. He looked left and then right. Down, then up. His arms moved from side to side. The movements didn’t make sense. But I didn’t care. He was moving. He was okay.

“Dad! Dad!” He didn’t answer. He must be in a daze.

An accident. We were in an accident. I looked around to see what hit us. Another car, maybe another van?

I looked out the front window and saw gravel and dirt. Nothing in front. I looked out my window and only saw trees. Then I twisted around as my leg’s burning and pulsing intensified. I strained to look behind me and then I let out a soft defeated sigh. An 18-wheeler semi was crushed into the trees behind me. We were hit by a semi.

A man came running up to my window and looked in through the shattered glass. “Everyone okay in here?”

We looked at him without emotion and I mumbled something about my leg as Andre continued to scream.

“Help is coming. Can you hear that? Can you hear those sirens?”

I listened and heard soft sirens ringing in the distance.

“Those sirens are for you. They are coming for you. Hang in there.”

Within seconds a crowd of first responders were flocking around the van.

“This one’s got no pulse!” A man yelled as he took his hands off my mom’s neck.

A paramedic ran up to the car seat strapped in the seat right in front of me holding my baby brother, Caleb. The paramedic reached through the broken glass and placed their finger under Caleb’s nose to feel for a breath. “This one needs help!” They yelled and they stepped away.

Kirsten gasped, “Caleb!” She reached across me and placed her finger under his nose. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully. But he wasn’t sleeping before we were hit. He had been awake. And now he had three small dots of blood on his forehead. Kirsten sighed with relief. “He’s breathing!” I reached in front of me and placed my finger under his nose and with relief I felt the soft warmth of his breath. He was okay. Just sleeping. He must have fallen asleep.

The paramedic came back and reached through the glass, unbuckled Caleb, and took him out through the side window.

Suddenly I heard screeching metal and the sliding door of the van jammed and then was forced open. “Can any of you walk out?” a police officer asked through the door. Kirsten stood up next to me and the officer reached out for her hand and guided her around the crushed seats out the sliding door.

As Kirsten made her way out she revealed Clint who had been sitting to her left. Something was wrong with Clint. He was twisting and writhing in his seat. He slid down the seat with foam and spit falling out his mouth. Paramedics reached in and tried to place a neck brace.

“Don’t touch my legs!” Andre screamed.

I looked up and saw paramedics checking Andre and assessing his injuries.

“It’s okay Andre! It’s okay!” I called out, not able to think of anything else to say.

I looked to the left and Clint was gone. The officers must have taken him.

“Sir!” I looked up and officers were surrounding my dad.

“Sir! SIR!” the officers yelled, trying to get my dad’s attention, but he wouldn’t respond.

“Dad!”I yelled out, “Dad!” Why wouldn’t he respond?

“What’s your name?” A paramedic came up to me.

I looked up. “Uh...Alyse.”

“Alyse, I’m going to place a neck brace around you, okay?”

“...Okay.” And the white stuffed brace was wrapped against my neck.

“How old are you?”

“14”

“How long have you had braces?”

“Uh...since I was...2 years, I think.” Why did they care about my braces? Another paramedic came through the back window to my side.

“What’s your name?”

“Alyse.”

“Are you in pain, Alyse?”

I felt the burning sensation up and down my calf. “My leg hurts” The paramedic looked down at my twisted thigh.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No”

But then I realized my left wrist was hurting. “My wrist.”

“Alyse, we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But we have to rip parts of the van to get to you out, okay? We’re going to place a blanket over your head to protect you from glass and metal.”

“Okay.”

A warm blanket was placed on top of me and my body rested against the back of the seat. Suddenly the roar of an engine fire up. Sawing, screeching metal, ripping plastic, shattering glass filled my ears. My ears hurt.

“Stop that noise!” Andre yelled. “Stop that noise!”

My eyes began to droop in exhaustion, but then I jerked awake in excruciating pain when the chair in front of me shifted. My leg went from burning, to blood rushing, to sharp shocks of pain, back to burning.

But I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. I was somewhere else. I was deep inside my mind and everything was happening on the surface. I leaned my head to the side of the van, closed my eyes, and listened to the violent roar of an engine.

And Andre screaming. He was screaming and begging for help.

“My leg hurts!” he cried.

“Okay, we’re going to help you.” The firefighters and paramedics were trying to comfort Andre. “What’s your name?”

“Andre-” And then he screamed out in pain as my mom’s chair, pinned against his legs, shifted. “Stop that noise!” He cried. “Stop it.”

It was pretty much the most heartbreaking thing to listen to, but I was too tired to call out to him. I was so tired.

“Don’t fall asleep.” A first responder poked his head under the blanket to check on me.

“I want to go to sleep”

“We need you to stay awake,” said a paramedic to the side of me. “How long have you had braces?”

The braces question again. Stop asking me about my braces.

“2 years.”

As Andre and I waited for the van to be ripped apart in order to free our crushed legs, Kirsten, Clint, and Caleb were loaded into an ambulance to be rushed to McKinney’s local hospital.

“How about you and your brother sit in the front bench with the driver,” a paramedic suggested to Kirsten. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

Kirsten looked around a caught a glance at the anxious medical staff loading Caleb into the back of the ambulance. She stepped into the front seat of the ambulance with Clint knowing that comfort was not the reason they were in the front seat. She could tell the adults around her worried Caleb might die on his way to the hospital.

“No, please, no!” Andre’s scream roared through the noise of the engine. “Stop that noise!”

And then it stopped.

The roaring engine stopped.

How long had it been? An hour? Longer? I couldn’t keep track. My leg was burning. I was so tired.

“Okay, we’ve got you.” an officer explained to Andre.

“We’ve got you.” “We’re going to help you.” A chorus of a half dozen adults around said trying to reassure and prepare Andre for what was to come.

“We’re going to lift this chair off of you so we can get you to the hospital.”

“No! Don’t take it off! Please, please!” Andre cried.

They lifted the blanket off of my head and I looked around. They had taken my mom and dad out of the car. Andre and I were the only ones left.

“No, no!” Andre cried.

“One! Two! Three!” Firefighters and officers lifted my mom’s chair off of Andre’s legs and he screamed in horror. “Please stop!”

The paramedics quickly secured Andre to a stretcher and carefully straightened laid out his legs. I watched them carry Andre out of my view. He left me. And then I was all by myself. The last one in the car. I stared blankly in front of me. Staring at the mangled, twisted metal heap that had been my family’s van. Now it was empty. And I was alone.

“Alyse?” I looked up at a paramedic.

“Your sister, your brother, and your baby brother were taken to the hospital” They explained. “We’ve got your dad and your brother in the helicopter.” They conveniently left out any information about my mom. But kids aren’t stupid.

A helicopter? When did a helicopter arrive? How did I not hear it?

The rest is kind of a blur. The roar of the helicopter. The growing pain in my leg and my severe discomfort. Emergency staff racing my stretcher down a hallway like I was in a movie. My clothes cut off from my body as I lay naked and exposed in a room of a dozen people assessing my injuries. Someone asking me the name of my church ward. A warm blanket being laid on top of me. People updating me on where everyone in my family had been taken. Everyone, that is, except for my mom.

And then a kind man came it and took x-rays of my body. It was probably the most painful experience of my life. Then I laid still as a conveyor pulled me through a big machine to take pictures of my brain and neck.

And then they said I was going to go to surgery. They showed me a teddy bear they said was from Heather’s family. A great aunt and uncle whom I didn’t know showed up and held my hand. And then it went dark.

When I awoke I was wheeled to a hospital bed next to Andre. It really is a blur. Family members and church members started visiting the room. Some of them with smiles in an attempt to comfort me, some of them with somber expressions not knowing what to say.

The day was long and there was lots of waiting. And I felt nothing. I wasn't sad, I wasn't happy. I just existed as I watched people move around me.

Finally in the evening a large group of my family members gathered around me in my hospital room. They showed somber faces and some of them had been crying. My Grandma Johnson stood in the middle of them.

"Alyse," she started. "Alyse. I have something to tell you."

I knew what was coming. My mom was dead. I knew she was dead.

"Your mom is dead. And your dad," she paused. "Your dad probably won't make it."

I stared at my Grandma. I thought my dad would live. He had been moving. He went into surgery the same time as me.

I closed my eyes and turned my head. I just wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to sleep and disappear.

***

So there it is. The horrible story in all it's epic sadness. And though this story marks the end of my parents' lives, it doesn't mark the end of their legacy.

After their death, there are stories of fire fighters, police officers, nurses, medical staff, and doctors who did everything in their power to save us and heal us. My aunts, uncles, and grandparents flew to our rescue and arranged for us to live with a kind uncle, aunt, and their 6 kids. Church members and neighbors brought us food, clothing, beds, and generously donated money. In the deep pit of sorrow we were lifted up, supported, and loved. The hours, days, weeks, and years of support we've received after our tragedy is extraordinary in the truest sense.

For all those who have loved me and my younger siblings, for all those who knew my parents and were touched by their lasting influence, Nancy and Keith and their legacy will live forever in all of us.

****

"You're Gonna Live Forever In Me" John Mayer:

MightHaveBeen, Inc

"Deep breath," John instructed as he held my hand. He noticed my fidgeting hands and bouncing knee. "You don't have to do this."

I tilted my head toward him looking annoyed. "Ok, ok," he replied, "I know how much you want to do this, but what I'm saying is we don't have to do this now. I want you to feel ready."

I wrapped my canvas jacket tightly around me like a security blanket and looked around the brightly lit waiting room. It was overly embellished with baby blue carpet, soft paisley-patterned chairs, gold plated side tables, and tasseled lamp shades. Clashing with my sneakers and worn jeans the room seemed to snobbily remark, "You don't belong here." Across the room a woman in her mid 60's with puffy red eyes and silver strands peppered through her hair stared off in thought as she clutched a small framed portrait of an older man. On the other side of the room a man in his late 20's with sandy brown hair, deeply set eyes, and an obvious probation ankle monitor hidden under his right pant leg leaned forward in his chair with his arms resting on his knees looking down at the ground. Then sitting a few chairs down from John a young, blonde woman adjusted her long skirt to briefly reveal a metal prosthetic lower leg.

I did as John instructed and took a deep breath and closed my eyes, "I'm ready."

"John and Alyse," a young women's voice called from across the room holding open the mirror-like metal door leading into the clinic.

John and I stood up and held hands as we walked toward the woman and through the door into a bright white hallway. "My name is Shay," the woman smiled as we approached, "And I'll be your guide today." She had dark brown hair that hung down past her hips, a pretty face, and wore a white, casual dress.

"I'm showing you've already taken care of payment," she commented. I nodded as my stomach tightened with guilt remembering the surgery. The clinic provided alternative payment to those who were unable to pay the six-figure price tag for the experience: One healthy embryo signed over for stem cell harvesting. John grasped my hand and squeezed it knowing what I was thinking about.

"And we did your preliminary data pull last week, so you two are here only for the results, right?" We both nodded and smiled knowing we were done with blood draws, brain scans, and MRI's. "Okay, great. Step into my office and we'll go through a few things and then we'll head into the theater."

My heart leaped with excitement knowing what I was about to see it a few minutes. We walked into a white office with a large window covering the entire far wall which revealed Seattle's skyline against the backdrop of grey clouds and a steady drizzle. Shay sat down behind a plain metal desk and picked up white tablet while motioning us to sit down on the grey couch across from her.

Flipping through information shown on her tablet Shay read aloud, "John and Alyse Packer for a 5-minute window. And Alyse, it's showing here you ordered a 5-minute window from MightHaveBeen a few years ago."

"Yes," I said smiled hesitantly. "It was the clinic in Dallas. My parents died when I was younger, and I wanted to see them."

Shay's face lit up with moderate interest and a smile, "Oh that's great. Did it end up being a good experience for you?"

"Definitely," I carefully remarked with a fake smile not wanting to relive or talk about the initial viewing. "In fact, I have the sphere window in my bag. I carry it everywhere."

I pulled out small leather pouch from my purse, reached inside and pulled out a glass ball about the size of baseball. The glass was dark and cloudy until it entered into the light and suddenly images started playing inside the sphere. It showed a man and woman in their 50s laughing amongst a group of friends and family. There was no sound and although the images were visible and three-dimensional, they looked more like shadows than an actual images.

I looked into the sphere as I had done hundreds of times before recognized the familiar motion the woman made as she smiled widely and then suddenly threw her head back in vivacious laughter while placing her hand on her chest as if to keep her heart from escaping. Even though she was clearly older, sported an unfamiliar blonde, pixie haircut, and wore clothes that I had never seen before, she was obviously my mother. The man sitting next to her was giggling uncontrollably with one arm folded around his body and the other hand pressed against his face in an unsuccessful attempt to control his laughter. And even with his unfamiliar wrinkles, added weight, and grey speckled hair, the man was clearly my father.

Those damn ParaScouts at MightHaveBeen were experts at scanning through billions of parallel moments to capture the happiest and most emotional scenes available. They were highly compensated to produce images that were so perfect and so sweet the images would have bordered on the brink of tawdry and cheap had they not been depicting real bits of time.

I also saw myself amongst the crowd, a little skinnier and almost hollow, different haircut, blue tank top holding hands with a man I didn't recognized and clearly a mother to three children I had never seen before. The sphere gave a short glimpse of my sister in the background among other unfamiliar children. It was an eerie experience to witness myself and my loved-ones living a completely unfamiliar life. It was my life, but not my life. Not this life. It was good to see my parents, but it felt uncomfortable and impertinent to be peeking into such an intimate moment where I clearly did not belong. For this reason and moral distain for the company, my siblings refused to order their own time sphere. Although, Caleb did ask to see mine since he couldn't pass up an opportunity to see images of the parents of which he held no personal memory. He was too young to remember them.

Realizing I had been staring into the sphere longer than I planned, I dropped the glass ball back into the leather pouch and stuffed it into my purse. "Sorry," I murmured upon realizing John and Shay had been shifting uncomfortably in their chairs waiting for me snap back to the present moment.

"That's perfectly fine," Shay responded, relieved to be taking control of the conversation again. "I'm glad it was a happy experience for you and I'm confident today's viewing will be just as moving."

Shay propped up the tablet and turned it toward us preparing to show us a video we had viewed previously. "This will obviously be a review for you since this is your second order, but we always like to review this video with our clients before every viewing to help give context to the images we're about to view."

The video started with the gold MightHaveBeen logo against a white screen with promotional music in the background. Then the logo cross dissolved into an image of a glass sphere building. A young woman's voice began narrating the video, "Paraview laboratories in New York City is the central headquarters for MightHaveBeen, Inc - the para-scanning capital of the world.

An image of a man with dark hair and charismatic smile flashed onto the screen. "Para-scanning, or the process of viewing images across layers of time-space reality was first discovered by Dr. Edward Hall. Using the particle oscillator at the University of Maryland he discovered how to jump across quantum particle's probability loops in order to produce energy stamps and eventually full images from parallel dimensions."

The screen showed an unnamed scientist sitting inside a large glass sphere known as a particle oscillator. Inside the sphere the scientist could see the laboratory surrounding her. As she manipulating switches and dials inside the sphere the scenes of her current laboratory melted away to reveal the same laboratory, but with a completely different scene. People were standing in different places and furniture was arranged differently. The scientist began slowly turning a dial inside the glass sphere and the scene around her began to change at the same rate of speed she turned the dial. Suddenly she was no longer surrounded by a laboratory, but instead her sphere was sitting in a large park surrounded by buildings. As she turned the dial the buildings around her changed places, shapes, and designs. Suddenly she was sitting in a forest of trees and the forest changed and altered around her revealing lakes and then mountains. She continued turning the dial and the changed from forests to deserts to small towns to neighborhoods.

"Researchers and engineers soon learned how to control image scans across parallel dimensions in order to pinpoint certain scenes of reality by measuring out the distance from our present reality."

The screen showed a widow crying near a grave and then cut to her looking into a small glass time sphere showing images of her and her former spouse dancing closely in another parallel time.

The narrator continued, "After years of testing the scientists at MightHaveBeen have developed a process allowing you a chance to peer into the parallel time of your own life to witness glimpses what might have been."

"Using quantum maps gleaned from the info contained in your DNA, brain scans, and body scans, our expert ParaScouts created a starting place for your reality and then branched out to scan for images that will reveal your life under different circumstances.

The narrator is then revealed on screen as a blonde woman in her mid-forties wearing a white lab coat and blue fitted dress, "I'm Dr. Sara Bell and I invite you to come take a look at your life as it might have been." She reached out her hand and then she faded away into a white screen.

"Okay!" Shay flipped off the tablet and set it face down on the table. "Are you ready?"

John looked at me and I nodded nervously.

"So, I want to make sure we have the right images because we've mixed them up before which always makes for an interesting viewing," Shay smirked. "I understand you had a miscarriage last year?"

My eyes welled up with tears hearing the words and I looked down in confirmation. "And it says it was late miscarriage. 13 weeks? Oh, I'm so sorry." Shay reached across the room and touched my hand which I then pulled away. "But it looks like you two are expecting again. Congratulations," She said as she pointed to my 8-month pregnant belly.

I said nothing, but put my hands against belly and felt a familiar kick from inside.

"Well, we were able to get some very nice images of your lost baby girl who would be about 5 months old now."

Girl? They knew it was a girl. Suddenly the moment became real. I realized what I was about see. I was walking into the reality of what my life would have been had the miscarriage not happened, and then I felt another kick from my unborn baby boy.

Shay stood up and motioned John and I to exit the office into the white hallway. We walked out and started walking down the long corridor leading to the theater where I would first view the images. Afterwards the attendants would provide me with another time sphere like the one of my parents and I could take it home and keep it forever.

As I walked down the hallway I kept feeling my baby kick and I wondered what I was doing. Was I still devastated about the miscarriage? Yes. The pain was thicker at the beginning but it would still come and go and doubted it would ever completely recede. My new baby was due close to the year mark of when I lost the other baby and my emotions were tangled into big mess. Happiness and excitement for the new baby, sorrow and pain at the anniversary of my lost baby. I blamed myself completely for what had happened. The complications that were revealed months afterwards confirmed in my mind that had I been more diligent I could have prevented everything. Had I been paying better attention the baby wouldn't have died.

But then I looked over at John and thought about the unfamiliar man I was holding hands with in the images of my other glass sphere. If my parents hadn't died, I wouldn't be with John. My life would be something different. And although I miss my parents more than I can bare at times, I can't imagine a life without John. It's a complicated and confusing reality I'll never understand: how such a horrible and horrific experience can lead to something so wonderful and beautiful.

I suddenly felt another kick from my baby and I realized this was the same phenomenon. Something beautiful and wonderful was coming after such a terrible tragedy. Even if I could have prevented it, I didn't. That's not what happened. I could choose to let guilt consume me and live in a fantasy of what could have been or I could let go and live out the beauty of my present life.

As we approached the door to the theater I stopped. "I'm not going to do this," I announced. Shay turned to me and looked at John. John looked down at me and touched my arm, "Okay."

We turned around, walked down the hallway hand in hand, through the waiting room, and out the front doors of MightHaveBeen.

And as we walked over a bridge leading to the lot where we parked I pulled out my glass time sphere from my purse. I looked at the images of my mom and dad showing again what they would have looked like today. I smiled and then tossed the glass ball into the river below.

the day before

blah. it doesn't get easier. it catches me off guard every year.

A Microcosm of Our Conversations Throughout Marriage

Me: I had a really hard time today when I was out in the yard weeding.

John: Why?

Me: Because as I was weeding I was disrupting and destroying the habitat for the snails that live in our flower beds. It just made me think about this book I once read, Modernity and the Holocaust. The author compared the ideology behind the holocaust to a garden - as if the Nazi's were trying to garden humanity by planting the good and discarding the bad. And what was "good" and what was "bad" was completely relative. Anyway, ever since reading that book, I have a hard time with gardens. As I was weeding today and uprooting the homes of those snails, I just kept thinking, "What right do I have to destroy their habitat? This is their home too. What authority do I have to decide what stays and what goes in our yard?"

John: Okay, but Alyse, what you don't know is that before you ever started weeding, I went out and talked to the snails. I told them, "Hey guys, we just bought this property if you want to stay you're going have to pay rent or else you're going to die. They never paid rent. They broke their end of the bargain, Alyse. Deals off... So you should be good.

Memories compiled in honor of Nancy’s 50th birthday

Complied by Michelle and Justin Smith, 2016

Contributor: Hans Pew

Relationship to Nancy: Cousin of Keith

I first met Nancy when we were both part of a group going to some sort of Young Adult activity - I forget the details. I believe she had just turned 18, and this was her first YA activity. We were trying to fit about 10 people into a car that could probably hold four comfortably. That's how I ended up with Nancy sitting on my lap moments after I first met her.

I believe that Keith was also in the car that night. In fact, it's possible that it was also the first time they met, but I'm not sure about that. I'm sure they hadn't met much before that, though, because it didn't take long at all for them to become an item. I suspect that by the next week if we'd done the same thing Nancy would have been on Keith's lap instead of mine.

Contributor: Summer Lydon

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

When I was about 7 or 8 my family went to Idaho to visit Aunt Nancy and Uncle Keith. It was summer time so it was warm enough to sleep on the tramp. It was probably 2 or 3 am before Kirsten, Alyse, Miranda, and I actually started settling into our sleeping bags for the night. At the crack of dawn Nancy came out and started jumping on the tramp screaming 'wake up sunshine's! It's time for morning exercises.' We were all so tired it was not funny! The way she looked, tho, jumping on the tramp was SUPER funny, and something I will never forget. I remember thinking 'She is crazy! but the coolest aunt ever!!' 

Contributor: Alison Yardley

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

My very favorite memory of Aunt Nancy is from when I was really little. I think I was 5 or 6 and she came over to my parent's house to visit. I told her all about how one of my other aunts had a special nail polish that made your nails dry more quickly after painting them. Aunt Nancy said that she wasn't nearly that fancy and asked if I wanted to see how she dried her nail polish. I of course said yes, and she then started spinning in circles and waving her hands around in an attempt to "dry her nail polish." When she finished she said, "they might not dry as fast, but it's a lot more fun!"

I adored Aunt Nancy. She taught me all about the importance of the little things and having fun! My time with her was short, but I will never forget her. Love you Aunt Nancy. Happy 50th!

Contributor: Julie Borg

Relationship to Nancy: Dear Friend

Nancy was one of my dearest friends. I can honestly say I have felt her loss and thought about her every day since the day she died. I loved her very much. She has impacted my life in a very positive way and I am a different person because I knew her.

I knew her for about 5 years. I met her when we she was pregnant with Andre and I was pregnant with my son Davis. We were in the same ward and lived in the same neighborhood. We instantly bonded and became good friends. I walked with her in the evenings quite often and we would discuss everything from kids to books to art to rude people. I loved those walks.

I have a lot of 'Nancyisms' in my life. The one that helped me the most to cope with her death was something she said when her dad died. She said "grief is like carrying bricks around in a backpack. You never get rid of them, you always carry that backpack. But you get stronger and it gets easier to carry."

Some other Nancyisms:
"Life is too short for paintings without people in them."

"Never trust people who are judgemental."

"I'm sorry about the apple core under the couch, but hey, that's just who we are."

"I want to paint a mural of angels in the kids playroom, and the angel's faces would be my children." - Did she ever paint that mural? I can't remember.

"The title 'The Angony and the Ecstacy' describes the way I feel most of the time."

"Sometimes it hurts to hear people complain that they miss their parents when they are on missions or whatever. Their parents get to come home. They should celebrate every day that they are alive, whether they or here or far away."

One thing I wanted to share that I remember well is how much Nancy loved her baby Caleb. She was so in love with him! She would stare at him a lot. One time she asked me to go 'rock shopping' with her. She wanted to build a fountain in her yard. We were in the middle of a rock yard where you could drive your car right in and you were surrounded by the rocks. She wouldn't leave Caleb in the car while we looked, not even if I was in the car with him! She insisted on carrying him in his carrier as she looked at all the rocks. She never wanted to leave his side. I noticed this several times in the short time she was with him. She was constantly looking at him.

Everything I did with her was an adventure. Furniture shopping, trips to the used bookstore, rock shopping, going out to dinner together, hearing her read something she wrote ('The Blue Velvet Couch' is my favorite). I remember when she wrote her own obituary. She read it to me over the phone. She was in a hurry to read it because I think she had a class to get to. I remember thinking how funny it was that she read it so fast, the story of her death. It seemed kind of ironic at the time. Her love of music, her love of writing and her love of reading and her love of life in general. One time I cleaned her wedding ring for her, and while she sat there watching me she talked about where the sand that was embedded in it came from, which was from a trip her and Keith took somewhere, probably the beach. She turned much of everyday life into  an incredibly told story. Life was just so rich when I was with her.

I love Nancy and I am so glad I knew her. My life changed after she died. It has left a sad place in my heart and I am so excited to see her again some day and talk about all the things we never got to discuss. I think about her when big things happen. When 9/11 happened I wondered about the fact that she was probably right there, helping those people find their way to heaven. I think about her when there is  a passing away and calling of new prophets. I think about her with books I have read. I wonder how she would have felt about Kindle. I wonder if she would have been a good texter. Can you imagine the funny conversations she would have had over texting and Facebook? Having her first grandchild, watching her children graduate. I think about her all the time and imagine conversations we would have about these things.

I could go on for pages about my memories with her, but I will just say that I second what I'm sure everybody else says about her. She was a magnificent person. I loved her so much. My life changed the day I met her. I pray for her children often.

Thanks for letting me share some of my sacred memories of a wonderful person and friend.

Contributor: Sara Smith

Relationship to Nancy: Older Sister

When Nancy was in her senior year of High School and I was in college we choreographed a dance to "The Pink Panther". It was in our split level house and she would go up the stairs and I would go down then we would fly back into the middle like it was a mirror. It was a fun dance that nobody but us ever saw.

Some people may not know this but I went out with Keith before Nancy. I enjoyed my time with him, but that's all it was. Nancy started dating him and they were just on the verge of getting serious when there was a letter in Dear Abby or Ann Lander column about someone complaining about her friend dating her boyfriend named Keith. The heading of the article was "Keep your hands off Keith". So Nancy put a 'threatening note' on my bedroom door with the article attached. I had seen the article and I almost cut it out and put it on her bedroom door. We had a good laugh over that one. 

After Keith and Nancy were married she babysat her niece Carol Weaver. When Carol needed her diaper changed Nancy would use yellow rubber gloves to change it. After Alyse was born I think she used the gloves a few times but realized it wasn't practical. 

When we were in college we used to go dancing. We would get together a group of 7 to 10 people and we would crash BYU dances wherever we could get in. The group seemed to change, but it usually contained cousins or siblings. We would do some couple's dances but mostly we would go in the middle of the dance floor and dance as a group. We used to get lots of interesting looks. I'm surprised we didn't get thrown out. Favorite songs were "I wear my sunglasses at night", "Whip It", and "Twist and Shout". Favorite dance was straight jumping up and down, Richards famous "Cockroach", and the Swing.

Contributor: Erick and Liz Pew

Relationship to Nancy: Cousin to Keith

Liz:

My memories of Nancy really started when she and Keith moved to Boise. I didn't really know her very well before that. We didn't have any other family in Boise so it was really fun to have them move here.  One of my favorite memories of Nancy is her singing in our group. She had a great voice and we often gave the alto solos to her because she had the right attitude for the song and of course a lot of personality.

I always enjoyed the fact that Nancy was always so interested in everybody that she met including me. She would remember something about you and ask about how that was going and then she always wanted to engage you in a conversation about politics or just something in general she'd been reading about and so it was always fun talking to her. She enjoyed variety in life and I know she enjoyed reading and writing and learning about new places and I know she was really jealous when Keith and Erick got to go to Italy together for work and she didn't get to go. One of The things on her bucket list was to make it to Florence, Italy and other places in Italy to see the wonderful art and everything else of course. She loved being a mom and she loved the gospel. One of my favorite experiences that Nancy and I shared was that our daughters really wanted to see the new Star Wars #1 movie that was coming out ( not #4-6)  and so we decided that we would go put a tent up in the parking lot at Edwards theaters and camp out with our daughters overnight to get tickets the day they started selling. There were parties and people dressed up and stuff going on all night long and so I don't think that we really slept much and we had a lot of fun. I took the first half of the night and stayed till about two in the morning and then she came and stayed the second half of the night with the girls and I went home and slept the second half of the night. As we did the change of guard we of course stayed and chatted a little bit together and played with the girls so it was a fun night. I know that it will be a memory that our daughters will hopefully remember and mostly just because she was as crazy as I was to camp out when the men didn't want to do it. 

Not long before Nancy passed away, Nancy and I had a conversation over the phone (because she had already moved to Texas) about whether or not we should make some changes in our family and sell the house we were living in and perhaps find a house with a smaller yard to take care of, maybe find a ward with youth Anna’s age in it and so Erick could be closer to work. We had a long conversation and she gave me some advice and I just remember her last words to me were something to the effect of: "I just have a feeling that good things are coming and that changes are going to be made and it will all be for the best and I know that you will listen to the spirit and everything will work out". For some reason that meant so much to me because she had taken the time out of her busy day to chat with me and make sure I was doing OK and she left me feeling uplifted and encouraged to pursue our course of action. That was the last time I talked to her. But Nancy really didn't leave. She's always been there in spirit and her personality and her love of life is evident in her children as well and someday we will be with her again.

Erick:

The one story I would add to what Liz said about Nancy is this one. One day I called Keith and Nancy’s house. I don’t remember whether I was calling to talk to Keith or Nancy, but Nancy was the one who answered the phone. As soon as she picked up the phone she said, “Talk to me babe!” I was taken aback and took a second before telling her who was calling and what for. I was never quite sure if she was expecting a call from Keith for some reason, or if that’s how she answered the phone when some random stranger was calling.

Contributor: Laurel Johnson Miller

Relationship to Nancy: Sister-in-law

One Easter our family went to Boise to visit Keith and Nancy. After the kids were all sleep the grown-ups stayed up late talking. Nancy told me she had good news to share. She said she was 3 months pregnant. I was delighted and congratulated Keith and Nancy. We spent a good hour talking about pregnancy and whether it would be a boy or girl etc. In the morning Alyse came in to the family room where I had been sleeping. I said, “Alyse, are you excited for the new baby?” She gave me a funny look, so I told her that her mom told me she was pregnant last night. Alyse got a cheesy grin and said, “Was it after midnight?” I said, “Yes, why?” Then suddenly realized that I had been sucked in good. It was April 1^st. Apparently Alyse, even at that young age knew her mom well. When Nancy came in I told her I figured out her trick. She really wasn’t pregnant. Nancy and I had a good laugh.

A few years later we were getting extended family pictures taken. While we were trying to get everyone looking at the camera and smiling people were saying, “Say cheese” etc. Nancy said, “Everybody say, I’m pregnant!” We laughed and nobody gave it a second thought later we learned that she really was announced she was pregnant.

Contributor: Holly Miller Hunter

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

During the holidays Keith and Nancy’s family came down to visit Utah. She took Kirsten, Alyse, Janna and I to Provo Town Center Mall to have a girls day. She took us to some of the fancy dress shops and pretended we were looking for flower girl dresses so we could try on fancy dresses and look like princesses. Looking back I am amazed that she would choose spending the day with 8 years olds and 11 year olds running around the mall. She made me feel so special and included. I love her and if I can be half the woman she is then I would be lucky.

Contributor: Miranda Johnson Carmichael

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

One of Nancy’s LEAST favorite songs is “Back at One” by Brian McKnight. We would make up different lyrics to make fun of the song. Unfortunately, the only line I can remember is “5 make you fall out of a tree!” SO funny! Love her and her fun personality! Every time this comes on, Nancy is the ONLY thing that comes to my mind!

Contributor: Adrienne Miller Henderson
Relationship to Nancy: Niece

When Nancy came to visit us in NY, she was always coming up with creative ways to entertain us kids. One night she pulled out a bag of pretzel sticks. We spend the rest of the night designing pictures out of the pretzels all over our kitchen counter.

Contributor: Lindy Johnson

Relationship to Nancy: Niece-in-law

I unfortunately never had the privilege of knowing Nancy. But I have been blessed to be a part of the family that has been created in her absence. I have so many fond memories with all of her children. Each one of them I truly feel as if they are my own siblings. I think if Nancy could be here today she would be overwhelmed with pride to see the people her children have grown up to be! I miss that I never knew her, I know she would have been one of my favorite people!

Contributor: Mark Moody

Relationship to Nancy: Son-in-law

[Memory about Andre] There was a discussion about doing a play. I can’t remember who suggested “We should do a family play”. Andre immediately shouted, “I GET TO PLAY CALEB!”

Contributor: Jill Osborn

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

I met Nancy when I was 10 months old at her wedding. She always made me laugh. I loved when she taught us how to play “Super Scum”. I was always really intrigued by Nancy. She has had a great influence on me in way I didn’t even realize until I was an adult. Her love for learning and example of attending so many college classes is one of the things that had the most influence on me and inspired me to seek a college education. Even though I was a child and teen while I knew Nancy, she always treated me with the same respect as she did other adults. I loved that she would talk to me about grown up topics from shaving legs, to things she was writing about her ancestors or short stories about running to the store to buy a last minute box of condoms. Her ability to show such sincere interest in other people was amazing. I think I miss all the intellectual topics and conversations I would have had with her as an adult the most. How I wish I could sit and converse with her about so many things. Even after 16 years I still think about Nancy and Keith and the huge influence they have had on me.

Contributor: Michelle Johnson Smith

Relationship to Nancy: Niece and sibling to Nancy’s kids

Honestly, I don’t have very many specific memories of Nancy. I definitely remember her smile and her laugh, and that she made you love to be around her. I remember when she and Keith went to look for homes in Texas right before she moved back and Andre stayed with us. I remember that she was so sweet with him and that she loved him.

I think my most profound memory of Nancy is really a reaction I had to an experience that Kevin had. I think it was during the same trip that she was dropping off Andre to stay with us. Kevin must have been 15 or so, but she sat down with him and talked for a while about computer stuff with him. She took time to listen to him talk about "nerdy" stuff that maybe she didn't know much about, but she engaged in this conversation with Kevin and made him feel important, and made his interests feel important as well. I remember Kevin telling my mom about the conversation later and expressing how good it felt that she would take the time to actually TALK with him and be interested in his computer hobby rather than just be polite enough to listen to him tell her about it. And that it was cool that she could have an intelligent conversation about it, even though she wasn't a computer expert.

Over the years that always stuck with me. Throughout Jr High and High School as I'd try to think about what I should do when I "grow up" I was never sure. But I always kept coming back to the idea that I wanted to be able to have an intelligent conversation with anyone about anything. It ended up being one of the underlying reasons that I didn't continue to pursue piano in college. I felt like I needed to diversify my experience and my studies in order to really be able converse about a variety of topics.

The other element to Kevin and Nancy's conversation that makes Nancy is awesome is that she was able to make him feel like she was interested in him. This is something that I am striving to be more like. I admire her ability to connect with people in this way.

Contributor: Annette Cleveland

Relationship to Nancy: Cousin-in-law

I remember Nancy as a sweet, happy, funny, and caring person. She had so many unique qualities and talents! One thing I remember about Nancy is that she liked to collect hats. She had a really fun collection. When my sister and I graduated from high school in 1986, our mom made us each a beautiful white dress. The two patterns we chose were somewhat “old fashioned” in style. We thought it would be fun to get our pictures taken in the dresses together, in black and white, so that the photo would look like an old photograph. For the picture, we wanted hats to go with the dresses. We asked Nancy if we could look over her hat collection and she was happy to let us do that, and to let us borrow any hats that we might choose. I thought that it was very generous of her to share her precious hats with us!

We did find two hats that we took with us to get the photograph taken. One hat had blue trim and the other one had pink ribbon on it, but since the photo is black and white, they blend in perfectly. I’ve attached the picture if you’d like to see it.

I wish I could have spent more time with Nancy. She was one of my favorite people to be around!

Contributor: Sherri Wiltbank

Relationship to Nancy: Sister-in-law

The main thing I remember and love about Nancy is that I, like so many others, felt like when I was with her, I was her best friend.  She had a way of making you feel like you were the most special person in the world and that she absolutely loved you.  She knew how to ask just the right questions and no matter the question, you were totally comfortable answering it. She offered insights that you had never considered but were just what you needed.  These conversations usually lasted very LATE into the night! 

I remember for the Wiltbank Reunion in December of 1998, our car broke down and we were not going to be able to go.  Nancy and Keith borrowed his sister Laurel's 15 passenger van so we could all drive down to Arizona together (even if it meant we had to stop every few hours to add more oil to the engine :).  We were so grateful for their kindness.  Nancy just saw this as a great adventure and opportunity to start the reunion a little early.  We left about 5 a.m. and as a mom with two young children, I eagerly looked forward to going back to sleep since I wasn't in the driver's seat.  But Nancy wasn't about to let that happen.  She came back to the row I was sitting on, plopped down right next to me and started chatting and got me chatting until the thoughts of sleep flew out the window.  Initially, I really wanted to sleep but I am so grateful that she didn't let that opportunity pass us by.  She knew life was meant to be lived to the fullest and she was going to not only do that herself, but encourage all those around her to do that as well.

I learned so many things from Nancy - to have a zest for life, READ!, love people, family is important, laugh, music is awesome, etc. etc.  But the lesson I think I will remember the most is one she taught me about forgiveness.  I was having a really hard time forgiving someone.  She listened to me for over an hour and then shared a very personal experience she had had forgiving someone very close to her.  She taught me about the freeing power of the Atonement and its absolute ability to bring peace and complete forgiveness.  Upon returning home that evening, I put her advice to the test -- and it worked.  I felt a peace in a way that I had never felt before.  This was a very foundational experience for me and I am so grateful to Nancy for taking that time to teach me.

I cannot wait to see Nancy again and I hope there will be time for another late night chat.

Contributor: Kirsten Moody

Relationship to Nancy: Daughter

I have too many memories to count. I remember one from when I was very young. I sometimes didn’t wash my hands when I went to the bathroom (gross, I know). Anyway, when my poor mother asked me why and tried to get me to start washing my hands every time, she asked me why I didn’t wash my hands. I told her it was because I was afraid of the sound the toilet made when it flushed. So, once I flushed the toilet, I would run out of the bathroom. My mom suggested that I wash my hands first and then I could flush the toilet. Then, I could still flush and run out the door. I remember thinking it was a silly, childish thing, but my mom took the time to help me think of a solution. She didn’t patronize me for having a silly problem. She recognized that for me it was a problem and she helped me. That was the first of many similar experiences.

She always made me feel important no matter how big or small my problems were.

Contributor: Shellie Espinoza

Relationship to Nancy: Cousin by Marriage

Memory: too many to write and not enough at all! We’re gonna roll!

One memory I had with Nancy is I was riding down to Arizona for Thanksgiving with Keith,

Nancy, Alyse and Kirsten was on her way-Nancy was great with child. We were somewhere in the middle of nowhere Utah in a snow storm and as we came around a bend in the freeway we could see up ahead a pileup of cars and people milling about. Keith was driving, Nancy was in the passenger seat, I was behind Nancy and Alyse was in her car seat next to me. Keith tried to slow down but the road was really icy. As we approached, Nancy started a running dialog of what was going to happen. “We’re going to hit that guy!” Keith veers to the right1 “We’re going to hit the mile marker” Keith manages to go between two of them, slalom style. “We’re going to go in the ditch!!!” We do indeed start sliding towards the ditch! “We’re gonna ROOOOLLLLL!”

But, we didn’t. we just sort of slid diagonally to the bottom and the momentum shot us up, out of the ditch, and onto the other side. We slid to a stop. “WHEW!” We didn’t roll!” Then Keith says-

“How are we going to get back?” He looks around and says, “Hey! We’re on an onramp!” So we drove up ahead of the whole pileup to the entrance, where we were directed by Highway Patrol back to the nearest podunk town as they had closed the highway. Nancy always was a good narrator. And this was just a few minutes of the many, many adventures we had together.

Nothing was ever quite ordinary if Nancy was in the mix, and I felt right at home with that.

Happy 50th Nancy!!!!

Contributor: Timo Mostert

Relationship to Nancy: Cousin

Memory: When I came out with my brother Mika to go in the MTC, we stayed at the Wiltbank’s

house and went bowling with Nancy. She was still in high school at the time. Fun times.

Contributor: Daniel Miller

Relationship to Nancy: Nephew

Memory:

When Keith and Nancy lived in Boise, our family drove up to visit them. I remember being really excited to see them. We missed them really bad after they moved. Once we got there, I’m sure we were our usual selves meaning that the situation was more than likely quite chaotic with constant fighting, some of which I’m probably guilty of instigating. I remember a fight breaking out and I felt like my parents getting after me for starting it, but I hadn’t. This time it honestly wasn’t me. In this instance though, justice was sacrificed for something that resulting in peace and quiet faster. I remember Nancy being my only advocate. She didn’t fight or question my parents’ parenting. She had an errand to run and she offered to take me along with her so I could have some one-on-one time. It meant so much to me. I remember her talking to me the whole drive and at the store just like I was her long-time friend. Unfortunately, I don’t have many more details to this memory. I left on my mission a week after the accident. I missed the funeral because I was in the MTC. It was easier for me, albeit cowardly, to pretend that Keith and Nancy were and still are just in Texas. I have never really had closure about the accident.

The truth is that I am resentful that some live while others are robbed of that privilege. I really wish I could have had an adult relationship with Keith and Nancy. I miss them both terribly.

Contributor: Richard Wiltbank

Relationship to Nancy: Brother and sometimes antagonist

Memory:

One of my most interesting memories of Nancy is when I was in 6th or 7th grade. I was talking to a friend on the school bus and he said something about Nancy being so shy. I said “Nancy who?” I couldn’t for the life of me think who he could be talking about, since the only Nancy I knew was most definitely NOT shy, quiet or reserved! I guess she came across a bit differently to the rest of the world, at least when she was that age.

Another wonderful memory I have of Nancy is how she was such a great friend, especially to those who may not have had many friends. On our school bus route, we had one family that were very poor, lived in a very small, run-down house. These kids wore dirty clothes and were usually unbathed and unruly. But, there was one girl, Maxina, who was Nancy’s age. Nancy would sit next to Maxina on the bus and talk to her during the whole bus ride. One day, after

Maxina and her siblings had gotten off the bus, I said something that was unkind about them.

Nancy looked at me in surprise and disappointment and said, “Why would you say that about my friend?” She was loyal to her friend at all times.

One more: for Christmas Eve, our family always had 2 plays that we would put on: the traditional Christmas story and a secular, Santa Claus story. For as long as I can remember,

Nancy would write, direct, make costumes and star in the secular play. We had some wonderful times practicing those plays as Nancy would rewrite her story over and over and over. We were often not sure exactly what we were going to end up with until we were on “stage” Christmas

Eve.

Contributor: Orval and Vonda Skousen

Relationship to Nancy: Surrogate Grandparents to Nancy’s children (Marcia Johnson’s parents)

I loved watching Nancy and baby Allyse on their front porch visiting with Marcia, Catherine and Kevin.  They were often there in the afternoon under the shade of the huge sycamore tree in the front yard.

Then just before moving to Texas, all the Lee Johnson family came by for family pictures.   Nancy was always interesting and fun to visit with.  She was positive, happy and busy with plans and ideas.  She was a very caring and loving mother.

Contributor: Lane Johnson

Relationship to Nancy: Brother-in-Law and surrogate father to Nancy’s children

Nancy may be the only person in the world (besides my wife) that has ever sat down with me and listened to me blab (for probably at least 10 minutes or more)  about how amazingly cool the Prokofiev Symphony #5 is (one of my all-time favorites). That was a lot of parentheticals! And not only did she listen to me blab, she was truly interested in what I was saying and how excited I was about it. Then, she sat for many minutes more and listened to the symphony with me. She had a rare talent of really be interested in people and their lives, what mattered to them. That experience has always meant a lot to me and has helped me on many occasions to remember to do the same with others (even though I’m not nearly as good at it J).

Contributor: E. Lee Johnson

Relationship to Nancy: Father-in-law

In 1997, Dianne and I had the privilege of going on the re-enactment of the Pioneer trek across the plains.­ ­­­­­ We rode in a wagon pulled by horses part of the time, and part of the time, and part of the time some of us walked beside the wagon.  We had a beautiful time seeing the country that the Pioneers passed through and enjoying each-others company.   Nancy was really great company on that trip, and we had a great opportunity to find out just how talented and interesting she was.  We came to realize just how fortunate our son, Keith, was to have her for a wife.  The children they left behind have helped us to remember her by exhibiting many of traits and talents.

Contributor: Lisa Wiltbank

Relationship to Nancy: Niece

We did not live near Nancy over the years, so my favorite memories of Aunt Nancy from family reunions, when she lit up the stage!!

Contributor: Milo Wiltbank

Relationship to Nancy: Older brother

She laughed.  Wow, Nancy could laugh.  Who knew what she was laughing about but her laugh was infectious.

When she spoke, her words could never catch up with her mind.  She spoke with enthusiasm, passion, and excitement because she had a lot of living to do in an inadequate time.

When Nancy was born, I was nine years old.  We lived in New Jersey. She grew up in a hectic house full of older kids. She seemed to enjoy the hectic atmosphere and as soon as possible she joined right in.

I remember visiting Nancy and Keith at their apartment in Texas when he was doing his Master’s degree at Texas A&M.  All the kids were there with fun and excitement in heaps.  All of us watched “Jaws”, apparently one of Keith’s favorite movies.  I was attending a scientific meeting called Society for the Study of Reproduction (SSR), a meeting of about 1,000 scientists that study reproduction.  We went on a double date to the SSR dance that was at the Texas Hall of Fame.  We ate, we danced, we drank, virgin drinks- much to the chagrin of the bartender.  We kept dancing during the night, as the line dancing started.  Nancy and Keith were the most photogenic of the dancers. Their picture, kicking up their heels, ended up on the front page of the newsletter.

Contributor: Anna (pew) Harrison

Relationship to Nancy: 1st Cousin Once Removed

I’ve been thinking for weeks about what to write but every time I pictured a memory of Nancy it didn’t seem like enough. Growing up in Idaho provided me with countless times with her and the family. A few Thanksgivings, many birthdays, hiding in the trunk of the car with the other kids at the 4th of July celebration because we were scared of the fireworks. There were no other relatives in Boise besides our two families so we did a lot together. I guess she’s my second cousin or something but she felt more like my aunt, or like a second mom. Glimpses race through my mind of her laughing, always laughing and laughing at or making slightly inappropriate jokes. My parents had a small singing group with them so they were at our house like at least once a week for singing practice and all of the kids would hide up in the game room, singing along with harmonies of the songs. Nobody had the flare when they sang a solo like Nancy did.  Throughout my childhood she is a constant, a person who was often there. But I only got to know her and see her with a child’s eyes.

And maybe it’s odd but some of my memories of her consist of years since the accident. Being not only cousins but also best friends with Alyse gifted me with the chance to learn more about Nancy as Alyse would share with me personal insights from Nancy’s journals or from Alyse’s personal memories and such. I had the chance to get to know Nancy as I grew into a teenager and then into an adult.

And as the years go I find myself connecting with her in deep and personal ways. I know that we would have been good friends because of the things that I know of her, we are a lot alike! But also because Alyse is so much alike her, and Alyse and I have been so close through the years, and through her I feel close to Nancy. I have also gotten closer to Kirstin as adults and I love seeing Nancy in her as well.

I don’t know if I am even making any sense. I guess what I am trying to say is that the pain that comes from time being cut short has been punctuated with the sweet ways that she lives on. Her writings, her art, stories, her laugh that still echoes through my mind, her kids, and her spirit that truly never left. I am grateful I’ve been able to get to know her through these years.

Contributor: Bryant Perkins

Relationship: Son of Catherine Perkins

[Memory of Caleb]

I remember Caleb telling me about when Nancy and Keith were in the car accident and he got that scar.  Also, every week I come to piano lessons and I love to play with Caleb.

Contributor: Catherine Perkins

Relationship to Nancy: Niece (and surrogate daughter. I figure if my parents can take her children under their wings here, then Nancy must have me under her wing up there. J)

The thing I remember most about Nancy was her infectious laugh. I remember distinctly praying the moment I found out about the accident pleading with Heavenly Father that I would always be able to remember it because I loved it so much. She laughed so readily and truly it lifted me up every time.

I also remember having so many conversations that I was amazed that she was listening to me- just a little kid- but she acted so sincerely interested. And I talked a lot- a LOT- so I was fairly used to people seeming a little bit like they were trying to find a breath to escape the conversation. Nancy was not like that. She listened so well, and really the better way to phrase it is that she conversed. I could tell she was interested because she was interested in me and she spoke back.

I love her so much- I can’t wait for my children and husband to know her and meet her and Keith.

Contributor: Clint Johnson

Relationship to Nancy: Son

Memory of my Mom

My mom was always so much fun. When I was really little I remember going up to my mom and saying I’m bored. She suggested that we play soccer. So we played soccer. She went very easy on me and always let me win. After that I would always go to her and ask her to play soccer because she was my best friend.

I remember another time I was trying to learn how to play Star Wars on the piano. I liked to just play it over and over. My mom kept telling me that I was playing it wrong but I didn’t care I wanted to just to play. Finally she said “you are not allowed to play that song anymore until you learn how to play it right.” So I learned and realized how much cooler it sounded.

Contributor: Marci Johnson

Relationship to Nancy: Niece of Nancy and sibling to her children

I don’t remember Nancy unfortunately. My one memory is when their family was driving from Idaho to Texas on their last move and they stopped by our house for the night. All the kids were playing in the backyard and all the adults sat in a circle in the front yard as they looked at the stars and talked. I remember running from the back to the front to talk to the adults and I think that Nancy was talking and laughing as I talked to them.

Besides that I am left with memories of her kids-mostly Andre. I always felt like I had a little insight into Nancy through Andre though. He looks like Keith, but I feel like his spirit is like Nancy. He is so much fun, so creative, and a super, duper deep thinker. I remember hours and hours of playing with Andre, laughing with him, and admiring his creativity. I think my favorite memory of Andre is when we were watching Napolean Dynamite, and at one part of the movie he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t close his mouth and he started drooling everywhere. I picture Nancy like that as a kid, even though I didn’t get the chance to spend some time with her.

Contributor: Rebecca Miller

Relationship to Nancy: Sister

I have many memories of Nancy but what I decided to write about is Nancy’s personality both as I remember and also in some emails she has written. 

First are my memories: 

She was always the life of the party, the center of attention, the person that everyone wanted to be with.  She cared about everyone and everything.  She had a wonderful way of turning every conversation away from herself and toward you. 

She loved all of us in her family.  She especially loved Keith.  I am sure she was thrilled to have him join her in Heaven.  She celebrated their anniversary in January as “lover’s day”.  She was totally in love with that man and she showed it to everyone.  She also loved her children.  When she visited my house when Douglas was sick, she called home every day to talk to her children.  Andre was only 4 at the time but they would talk for a long time…what do you talk to a 4 year old about for that long?  She did it.   It was going to be Kirsten’s birthday.  We looked and looked for the perfect gift to give her.  She finally decided on a marionette that she knew Kirsten would love.  Who can forget the limo that she allowed Alyse and her friend to go in?  She loved her children so much. 

When Douglas was sick and in the hospital for several months, she came to visit and care for us.  She brought Douglas 40’s hat because she knew he was bald and that he loved the 40’s style.  She did hard things.  When she visited we had a mouse that got caught in a trap in our garage.  We were leaving so I said I would send the teenage boy over after our party.  We had forgotten something; she went home to get it and also took care of the mouse.  I asked her why she had done it. She said, “Because I made a goal to do one hard thing every day.”   

She loved her parents and siblings.  Here is something she wrote for a book I made about Mom:

I remember waking up every morning to a kitchen full of breakfast. Mom always cooked breakfast: eggs or hot cereal, toast, orange juice, cocoa.  She didn't make everything every day, but even on cold cereal days she put everything out on the counter.  It looked so inviting.   

When I got older Mom told me she wasn't a morning person.  That surprised me.  I always loved mornings in the kitchen with Mom.  I loved hearing her sing while she did her morning work.  My favorite was "It's a lovely day today.  And whatever you've got to do it's a lovely day for doing it, it's true."  I also like "Why is the sky so blue today?  Why is the robin's song so gay?  Why is the da da da da da?  Only because it's spring."  And sometimes she whistled.  One time Milo was staying at our house.  At breakfast I pointed him to the cereal cupboard.  He opened the door and said, "Wow, this is Mom's cupboard."  I carried the same line of cereal as Mom:  Cheerios, Post Toasties (never Kellogg's Corn Flakes!), Wheaties, Grape Nuts, Chex.  I liked those warm mornings in the kitchen.  Sometimes Mom would set me on the counter to put my shoes and socks on.  Before she put my socks on she wrapped her hands around each foot and rubbed to warm them up.  I never realized until thinking about it now how lucky I was to have a mom who loved to make extra‑strength cocoa for me in the morning.

I think Nancy is the best source to tell about herself.  A few excerpts from letters follow:

Today Dad would have been 75 year old.  Instead he’s one of the few people I know who lived his entire life in only one century.  It’s not right to wallow in my grief, that’s not what life’s about, but every once in a while, on special days like today, I allow myself a few memories, some tears and a bit of longing to be with him again.

It’s moving day so I don’t really have anything else to do but type around my keyboard and stare at Jan become Marcia.  Marcia turned into Jan and....  Actually I am enjoying my break sitting here where I can watch Keith’s muscle ripple under the weight of all those boxes I packed with rocks...  What a hottie..  He’s so hot his shirt is soaking.

This is what she wrote after she told about when Caleb stopped breathing and only Alyse was there to help when they were moving into their home in McKinney.

I couldn't let my kids go to school the next day. Alyse insisted on going, she had exams, but the others were more than happy to stay home and help us unload the truck.  I kept thinking about that scripture in the Book of Mormon when Jesus talks about how often he wanted to gather his children like a mother hen gathers her chicks.   That's always been a poignant symbol of parenting to me. Anyway, that's how I felt, I wanted to gather my darlings around me and protect them from everything.  But then there's always dishes to wash and messes to clean up and the mean mother in me sneaks to the surface again.  I don't know how to shake loose of her, especially when I'm surrounded by chaos and two tons of work that I, and only I, can do. 

She continues on to write about Clint and getting his depression medicine right

I forgot to mention a tiny bit of bright news; Yesterday Clint said to me, “Mom, I think this medicine might be working.”

“Really,” I said  “You're not just saying that to make me feel better are you?”

Clint said, “No, I just had this feeling. I mean, for a second I felt really good. It was so nice and then it disappeared and I thought, 'Wait, come back, I want to feel like that some more.'”

Why does that make me think about heaven and about those tiny moments when we look at each other and recognize something incredible before it fades away from our perception? 

You're each precious to me. Sorry for all the sentiment but my Yellow (fun-motivated) personality is sleeping in, you know how she hates Mondays, so the writing's all coming from me, my emotional Blue self.  If Yellow were here she'd probably make some comment about how I'm a good timin' girl too being the emotional stripper that I am.   So, I  didn't expose more than you wanted to see.

~Nancy

HAPPY 50^TH BIRTHDAY NANCY