The Flight of Hope

by HJ Bellus

  He wraps the towel around me and starts the shower. When the water is hot enough, he strips off his clothes and climbs into the tub. He holds his hand out for me, waiting for me to take it. I drop the towel moments later and step under the hot stream with him.

  In silence, he washes away everything that’s transpired in the last thirty minutes or however much time has lapsed. I have no clue how long I was crumbled on the tile floor devastated. He washes my hair and my body, and then we relax underneath the streams of water. It’s symbolic of the loss we are experiencing together.

  He never takes his hand off me. His strong, dedicated arms stay wrapped around me as they catch my tears for the baby I thought may have been coming our way. He leaves the shower with a quick kiss on my forehead. I watch through the glass door as he grabs a towel and slips into a pair of black boxers.

  I close my eyes and let the water spray down over my hair. It’s not meant to be, and that may be the most devastating thing I’ve had to face to date. Often late at night, I wonder why I want a baby so damn bad. Anyway, I analyze I’ve never been able to figure it out. There’s a gigantic scenic puzzle laying before me with one missing piece from the center.

  I have to focus on what I have in my life. Some people never find true love, and I have that in spades. The shower turns off, and I open my eyes to see Bentley holding a towel. He grabs me from the shower and places me on the rug right outside of the shower. He towels me off and points to the clothes and feminine products for me.

  And then leaves the room.

  I hear him talking loud enough on the phone in the hallway. I don’t focus in on each of his words, but I know he’s talking to my parents. Pregnancy, bleeding, and we are not going to make it tonight, are the only words that scramble around in my brain.

  I’m exhausted after getting dressed. Hell, I don’t even have the energy to walk myself out into our bedroom. All I want to do is crumple on the floor, close my eyes, and forget all about this day. But I don’t have the chance to before I’m lifted up in Bentley’s arms once again. He carries me to our bedroom, pulling back our comforter, placing me on the bed, and pulling the blankets up. I roll over to my side defeated and hopeless and ready for sleep. The bed dips behind me, and all too soon I feel his muscular chest up against my back. His arms wrap low around my waist, his nose in the crook of my neck with his lips peppering light kisses on my chilled skin.

  It’s what I need. Silence, peace, and my husband. I lace my fingers in his that are now draped over my hip and squeeze them, hoping to let him know that I love him and I’m thankful for him being here right now.

  “Go to sleep, baby.” He kisses my neck one more time. “I love you, Birdie. I know you don’t want to discuss it right now, but maybe it’s time to see a doctor.”

  I know the answer deep down in my gut and don’t have to think about it before responding.

  “I don’t want to go to a doctor, baby. I can’t stand any more devastating news and to have a doctor tell me that having a baby isn’t possible for us would crush me more than words. I’ll be okay because I have you. Let’s be us, be married, and enjoy our days together.”

  I want the pain to go away. He runs his hands through my hair, each movement soothing.

  “It’ll happen. I’m not going to say give it time because I know you’re tired of hearing that. But it will happen one way or the other. The day I married you, I promised you I’d give you the world and that’s what I’ll do every single damn day of my life.”

  I roll over in his arms until we're nose to nose. “It makes me feel like a failure.”

  His finger goes over my lips before I have a chance to finish the rest of my sentence. “Marlee, I’ll let you be sad, upset, and whatever else you need to be. But I refuse to let you sink into that train of thought.”

  I kiss his lips and pull back. “If you would’ve let me finish my sentence, I was going to say I do feel like a failure deep down inside, but it’s your love that always pulls me back along with my family.”

  He rubs his nose along mine for long beats of silence. “Do you want me to get into yours and Maddie’s secret stash?”

  It takes me a minute to catch on, and when I do, I feel like a kid busted by their parents. I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow.

  “How did you know about that stash?”

  He pulls me into his arms tighter, hugging me to the point where I can barely breathe.

  “I’m no idiot, Birdie. I knew what you were doing to get Maddie through those dismal days when Coy was gone. I let you girls have fun.”

  Of course, he would know exactly what was going on and not say a word.

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you were unable to get into my stash, soldier. More for us.”

  “Do you need to indulge right now?” He raises an eyebrow.

  I shake my head from side-to-side. “I don’t need to get high right now. I’ve got everything I need right here next to me.”

  And that’s all we say until I fall asleep once I’ve grounded myself in Bentley’s embrace. My eyelids grow heavy, and I’m able to relax. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man is my home no matter what life throws our way. He spoke the truth when he reminded me about his promise. Even if I’m never able to ever have a baby, I guarantee adoption would be the next course if I want that. Bentley would have an appointment made for me first thing in the morning to see a fertility specialist if that’s what I also wanted.

  In my core, I know I’ll never have enough courage to see a doctor. It would be another blow to my soul when I hear that it’s me that’s the problem.

  I dream of Bentley and me growing old together and bracing the future and being happy no matter what life throws our way. It’s the sweetest of sweet dreams a girl could have. The rhythm of our life is ever evolving. I embrace it because it’s all part of the game. I choose to thrive in the game of life.

  10

  “The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.” -Hubert H. Humphrey

  The morning I woke up after having my period or a miscarriage, I’m not sure which happened, knowing I had to put on my big girl pants and move on because I have too much in my life.

  The days drifted by and with each passing one, it became a little easier to breathe and enjoy life. The days added up to weeks only showing me life always goes on no matter the ache in my chest. Papa Wally and I continued to fish for a week or so afterward until it became too much for him. The old man only has enough energy for him to go once or twice a week nowadays. It hurts my heart to know the end is coming soon and my days are numbered with him, but like in any other challenging circumstances in life, I've chosen to embrace the good and enjoy and relish every single second of it. I had an early meeting this morning, so my hunk of burning love and I have a dinner date at the pond.

  I place the last piece of freshly, fried chicken in the picnic basket and check my phone to see a text from Bentley.

  Hottest Hubs Ever: I’ll meet you at the pond. Running late.

  Me: Okay. Want me to bring a change of clothes for you?

  Hottest Hubs Ever: Naw, I’m good.

  Me: Are you sure?

  Hottest Hubs Ever: Yep, get your sexy ass down to the pond, woman!

  I chuckle at his response.

  Me: See you soon.

  Odd, but I’ve decided to not overthink anything when it comes to Bentley. He’s strict with self-discipline for days. I mean, he’s a well-trained soldier in the United States Army, but the way he can divert plans and go with it is something I’ll never understand. I shake my head and grab the picnic basket. I decided against taking the Razor down to the pond and walk instead.

  The crisp autumn breeze blows across my face. I tug up the collar of Bentley’s favorite Penn Con hoodie. The woodsy, basil, and somewhat fruity scent of his cologne washes over me. Some girls want diamonds, big mansions, and extravagant vacations around the world, not me. This is my idea of perfection.

  I look up to see Mom helping P
apa into his fishing chair on the hill by the pond. I chuckle seeing Papa swat her away. He grumbles about us girls being on his ass too much. If Mom isn’t at his side, I am. We are greedy like that, soaking up every single moment with him.

  It’s his heart, and Papa refuses to have another open-heart surgery at his age. None of us can blame him, but it doesn’t make it any easier on us either. Papa has taught me so many lessons. Looking back through the years, my life didn’t truly start until I moved here the summer before my fourth grade year. Papa gave our family a home, built a legacy, and gave me Bentley.

  I walk up the hill with a smile playing out on my face even with the impending doom looming over our family.

  “Birdie,” Mom chirps, opening her arms wide for a hug.

  Not only has she been mother-henning the hell out of her dad, but I’m next in line. She didn’t give me her typical talks about being too young to have a baby or that it will happen. Nope, she has become my rock and has been cooking up a storm for me and Bentley. It’s all eased my stress since work has been insane. The real estate market is booming right now, keeping me on my toes. The amount of houses on the market and potential sales is at an all-time high record. I’m determined to take advantage of all of it.

  “Momma.” I give her a one arm hug, clutching to the basket in my other hand. “Want to join us tonight? I have lots of chicken.”

  “Smells amazing.” She pulls back from me. “And like you finally nailed down my recipe.”

  I shrug. “It is Bentley’s favorite after all.”

  “And took how many years to get it down?” Mom raises an eyebrow.

  “If he dare mentions it doesn’t taste like your mom’s fried chicken, I swear I may throw him in the pond and walk away.”

  That earns a hearty chuckle from Papa Wally who’s already busying himself with his fishing pole. Mom beams with pride. That woman loves cooking for her family.

  “It’s not that hard, Birdie.” She takes a seat next to her dad.

  I place the basket on the ground and throw my arms up, pulling back the sleeves of the hoodie. “Tell my damn forearms that.”

  Mom and Papa both share a good laugh. He finally leans over and pats Mom’s leg. “Your momma looked like that way back when. It took her much longer to master my momma’s fried chicken.”

  “Roasted,” I sing out.

  Mom swats at Papa, screwing up his cast out. He grumbles at her, but it doesn’t stop her from giving her opinion. A familiar roar of a truck engine that sets my body to life fills the air. I look toward the sound and see the dust rolling behind a sexy truck, and I know my husband has arrived.

  Bentley pulls up to the pond, and I notice he’s in a Penn Con t-shirt. Weird, he must have packed a change of clothes to work. He’s late. Guess his day at work was a full one as well. I tuck the basket behind Mom’s chair and bounce over to the truck.

  Bentley is out and heading my way before I even make it halfway. He has me up in a hug, kissing me. Even though I want to sit here and enjoy the moment even with the witnesses, I pull back, eyeing his outfit.

  “You’re changed.”

  Busted! I can read this man like a book. He shrugs, tilts his head, and mumbles about a long meeting and wanting to have fresh clothes for fishing. I swear a light yip comes from the truck. It’s not a squeaking sound, but I swear I heard it. The noise happens again, but this time Bentley kisses the hell out of me before I have a chance to pepper him with questions.

  I indulge in the kiss for long moments before I hear Mom clear her voice and that mysterious sound again. It takes all of my resolve to push Bentley away and give him a cross, inquisitive stare.

  This time he shrugs, furthering his damn guilty state.

  I lean back in, brushing my lips against his. “What are you up to?”

  “Kissing my wife.” He takes advantage of my lips.

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  This time a full bark comes from his truck. It’s a little yippy bark like a puppy trying to do its best to let out a full one. It hits me. He bought us a puppy.

  “Bentley, what’s in your truck?”

  He must think I’m a fool and his lips have magical powers to distract me. He’s partially right on the lip front, but my curiosity is piqued, and now nothing will stop me.

  I push back on his chest with a light shove and then juke to the side. My long legs dart to the truck. I hear Bentley on my tail and know damn well he can catch me without much effort. His hand wraps low on my hip as I pull myself up the driver’s side door and peer in the window.

  “Oh my God, Bentley.” My voice echoes around the cab. “Is it ours?”

  His chest presses to my back, his legs frame mine on the running bar, and his hot breath tickles my neck as he talks. “Meet our baby.”

  Tears well up in my eyes until they spill over. The level of my voice from before frightened the tiny puppy, and now I feel horrible about it. He peers up to us with big blue eyes, his tail tucked between his legs and a shivering body.

  “Come here, baby.” I pat the driver’s seat.

  It takes some coaxing until he pads over to my hands. My instinct is to swoop the precious pup up in my arms, but I have to take it slow.

  “A litter of puppies was brought into the animal shelter. They were rescued from a car wreck. The owners didn’t survive, but the paramedics were able to save a crate of puppies that were in the back.”

  I gasp, and now the tears running down my face aren’t from joy but rather heartache. Bentley reaches around, drying my tears, and he continues.

  “I was on a wait list to adopt one of them. Got the call today. I’ve visited the animal shelter a few times and was hoping for this one. I mean, they were all cute, but this little guy just belonged to us.”

  “He’s a boy?” The puppy begins sniffing my fingers, growing comfortable with me. “I feel like an ass spooking him earlier when I shouted.”

  “It’s all good, baby.” Bentley kisses the outside of my neck. “It will take him a bit to adjust. The little guy has been through a lot.”

  I can relate I think to myself. He’s perfect for us.

  Bentley goes on giving me all the details. “He’s an Aussiedoodle. Doesn’t shed, will grow to be a full-size dog, and will have the Aussie protective instincts. He’ll be your guy.”

  “As in an Australian Shepherd Poodle mix?”

  Bentley nods his head.

  The little bundle of wiry, fuzzy fur steps into my arms. With ease, I bring him to my chest. His wet nose sniffs around the side of my cheek until his pink tongue darts out kissing me. Bentley steps down from the running board, taking me with him. I keep our new addition clutched to my chest.

  “He’s gorgeous,” I whisper, running my hand through his brindle colored fur. It’s a mixture of gray, white, and peach colored spots, but it’s his piercing ocean blue eyes that melt my heart and steal my soul with one look.

  “He is my guy.” I peer up to Bentley. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  Bentley leans forward, kissing the top of the pup’s head.

  “Meet your daddy, Guy.”

  “Guy?” Bentley asks.

  “Yep, he’s our little Guy.”

  Mom doesn’t give us long to bond with our puppy before she’s pushing her way in, and she doesn’t treat him like any old puppy. Nope, she introduces herself as his Grandma. I’ve read all the motivational sayings that pop up on Facebook and posts on Pinterest, talking about enduring the dark days before you experience the light of life. I never believed in them until now. The saying rings true; life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.

  Dad pulls in thirty minutes later, appearing as if he held up the local PetSmart at gunpoint. Every puppy item you can think of fills a large periwinkle woven basket. They even bought him doggie outfits.

  “Good lord, Dad.” I keep digging to the bottom of the basket.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t me. Your husband here sent me with his Visa with
strict orders.”

  We all settle onto a worn, plaid blanket, playing with Guy and eating the best chicken of my life.

  11

  “A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.” -Josh Billings

  “Birdie, your turn.”

  A wet tongue runs up my cheek, forcing me to grumble and bury my face in a pillow.

  “No, it’s yours.” My words come out muffled.

  A strong paw comes down on my back. Guy taps away in a rhythmic motion.

  I turn my head, pressing my cheek into the heaven of my pillow. “Blowjobs for a week, any time you name it, if you take Guy out.”

  Just like that, Bentley is up and out of bed clothed only in his black Calvin Klein boxers that do a poor job of concealing his morning wood and a damn excellent job of showcasing his ass. I’m not a morning person. Never have been and never will be, so I let my eyes flutter shut and dream about that beautiful ass.

  It feels like five minutes of sweet slumber. My ringing cell phone tells a different story. It’s well past ten a.m. Guy is curled up in Bentley’s spot out like a light. Even though he’s nearing a year old, it’s still like having a damn puppy. It’s completely our fault because he runs our life and owns us. We’ve been told by the perfect dog parents it should be the other way around, but screw that. Guy is the king of our house.

  My phone dings with a text and I know it’s Maddie reminding me of our weekly coffee date. I’ve never been late or even required a reminder. It’s the Maddie way. She’s type A personality on steroids since sweet Sara was born. The woman makes it all look simple and never breaks a sweat.

  It was immediate, undeniable love the first time I held Sara. I’ll never forget the happy tears that welled up in Bentley’s rich brown eyes when he held his best friend’s daughter. Jealousy and longing for my baby evaporated the day we became her family.

  Even though we aren’t blood-related, Sara is our niece through and through. And of course, we are the cool kick-ass aunt and uncle. We made sure she was stocked with onesies that had borderline sayings printed on the front.