by HJ Bellus
Maddie: Noon at Wicked Brews. Don’t forget.
Me: I had us down for tomorrow.
I can’t help but chuckle, picturing Maddie scurrying around the house, tidying it up and now panicking over my text. It’s been Wednesday for nearly a year.
Maddie: Funny girl.
Me: Seriously, closing a deal, can’t talk right now.
Guy rustles around until his nose is right up against my cheek and his long body is parallel with mine. I run my fingers through his curls. He has long outgrown the precious puppy, zoomed right through the lanky, awkward puppy stage right into a momma’s boy. His coloring is the same with pops of gray, white, and peach spots, and his piercing ocean blues eyes are more dazzling than ever.
Maddie: Seriously, Marlee, we’ve had the same date and time forever!!!
Me: Gotcha, sucker. I’d never miss an opportunity to spend time with my favorite person.
Me: That would be my Sara Bug! See you in a bit.
Even though Bentley let me sleep in and took care of Guy before he went to work, it’s still a struggle to climb out of bed. I swear sleep and my comfy bed are truly my best friends. I smile when I smell the aroma of coffee dripping into my favorite mug. It has Bentley’s face plastered on it with “Husband of the Year” printed above his face. Best birthday present ever.
Guy licks my fingers dangling at my side. I pat his head. “Just a minute, boy.”
It took me forever, but eventually I nailed a doggy treat recipe I found on Pinterest for Guy. It doesn't matter the time of day or night when I walk into the kitchen, he’s on my heels ready for one. Never in my wildest dreams did I think baking epic doggy treats would make me smile.
“I better shower and get moving.” I place Guy’s treat in front of him and pat his head then pour more creamer than coffee into my mug.
He ignores my affection and devours the treat. It’s then I spot a note on the counter. Bentley’s sexy as sin handwriting fills the half piece of white printer paper. His writing has always been blocky yet delicate in an odd way, and it’s always had the power to put a smile on my face no matter the circumstance. The infatuation started way back in fourth grade.
Birdie,
Be home around five. Don’t forget your coffee date with our Goddaughter. Yes, I can see you rolling your eyes from here. Guy needs more rawhides and could you pick up a bottle of Old Spice body wash for me?
Enjoy that coffee, sexy momma, and get your lips ready for me tonight.
Love,
B
I hide my stupid grin behind my coffee mug while reading his note. I fall harder and deeper in love with the man every day. I could stare at his letter all morning, but know I need to get my ass in gear. If I show up late, Maddie will never let me live it down. Everyone in my life lives to ridicule me about my timely fashion. It’s just that I’ve learned life is too intriguing to show up on time. No one buys it.
Guy nips at the bottom of my booty shorts. His pleading sapphire eyes gaze up at me. I’m a damn sucker, not even thinking twice about dipping my hand in his cookie jar. The treat vanishes in a flash. The sound of his paws trail behind me and echo down the hallway. As the loyal companion Guy is, he circles around on the bath rug several times before curling up in a ball. He knows my routine even on my days off.
The steaming hot water taunts and coaxes me to run a bath instead of a quick shower. Bentley still hasn’t overcome his fixation with bath bombs, and I’m not going to complain. He’s even dedicated a large drawer in our bathroom to store them. It’s essentially a mini-Lush store on steroids.
There’s no way I’m going to miss any snuggle time with my Sara Bug, so I rush through my shower. Guy snores lightly when I step out and towel off. It’s insane how mellow, loveable, and calm he can be, but when a threat or anything foreign nears our home, Bentley, or myself, his Australian Shepherd tendencies come out strong. I don’t fear anything or get spooked when home alone.
No sooner than I turn off my blow dryer and flip my hair up from being bent over, I hear the front door shut. Guy stands to attention but doesn’t bark. He hears Bentley’s voice and sprints down the hallway. He’s long gone, skittering, and skattering on the hardwood floor. For as fast as he’s moving, he covers no ground at all.
I round the corner in time to see Bentley pat his chest, signaling his boy to hoist his two paws up. It’s their thing. His dad has chewed Bentley’s ass several times, telling him it’s a bad habit. Guy only does this with Bentley and only on command.
Guy’s Australian Shepherd influenced ears flap up and down as Bentley scratches him in his favorite spot. Dad clears his throat, and it’s then I realize there were two sets of footsteps. I make my way to him and open my mouth to greet him when I freeze dead in my tracks. His look says it all. I don’t even have to ask them why they’re here in the middle of the day.
I begin shaking my head from side-to-side. Tears appear without effort and I back away from the men, as if it would make the impending news disappear. Of course, it doesn’t.
“Birdie.” Dad’s soothing voice shatters my heart. “Have a seat, darling.”
“No,” I repeat the word over and over, shaking my head in sync until my back hits the wall.
Guy’s at my side the same time Bentley steps in front of me. His strong hands cup my face, trying to reassure me. I stare right into his whiskey-colored eyes but don’t see a thing. My world has gone blank.
“Let’s run. Leave. They’ll never find us.”
His jaw ticks with tension. I know I’m not making this any easier on him. The Army and his loyalty to it come before anything; it’s what makes him a soldier. And that passion is why I’m so madly in love with him. But right now, it’s crumbling my world. My head spins so damn fast dizziness settles in, my vision blurs even though not a single tear has rolled down my face. It’s not his first deployment and more than likely not his last, but the terror is real.
“I’ve got you, Birdie.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead before he pulls my stiff body to his chest.
I can’t move. I should be hugging the hell out of this man, knowing now our time is limited. Guy nudges my leg, sending life back into me. In slow motion, I wrap my arms low around his waist. He tugs me closer, and I fall into his firm chest that’s always been my home.
I feel Bentley kiss the top of my head several times before he speaks. “I’m so sorry, Birdie. I have to go.”
“I know,” I mumble, my cheek pressed against his chest.
“Twelve short months. It will fly by, baby, and I’ll be back here pestering the shit out of you.”
“Where?” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping like hell it’s not the one place I already know deep in my core.
“Afghanistan,” he whispers into my hair. Each sound and syllable seals the deal, making my knees quake.
It takes everything inside of me to hold it together when all I want to do is lose it in his arms. I refuse to let my greed and emotions take over. It’s the respect the man I love is owed. I adore his service to our great country, but it will never make it easier handing him over to the Army.
Once my breathing settles down and I’m able to move, Bentley guides me over to our dining room table. Dad has a seat pulled out for me. He kisses me on the cheek before guiding me down. The two men follow suit, giving me all of the details.
All I pick up from the conversation is Afghanistan and one year. There’s other information they throw my way to settle my nerves, but none of that registers. I’m losing my husband to the war our country is in. I choose right then and there to stand by his side and to never waiver. I’ll write and send weekly care packages like I did on his first deployment. I will also be the first one to tackle him to the ground when he returns. It’s my duty as an Army wife.
“Shit.” I slap the table. “Maddie!”
Bentley reaches over, grabbing my hand. “Coy is with her.”
“He’s going, too?” I ask.
Both men nod their head in unison. My
beating heart bleeds for my best friend. Pain and hurt long gone by now with terror left behind. I gasp, and the tears flow down my cheeks.
“Sara’s daddy.”
I vowed not to break down, but this was the final straw for me. Dad nods to Bentley, rounds the table, and kisses my cheek before striding out the door with his head held high.
My body moves through the air. My toes catch on a corner before I realize Bentley is packing me in his arms. I fight to control the torrid storm exploding inside of me. Bentley places me in bed, mirroring the night we lost our baby or the idea of it. He strips down to his boxers in a quick beat and is in bed, pulling me back to his chest.
“You can cry, Birdie. You can be angry and pissed beyond belief. Let me have all of it while I’m here. I don’t get to crack, but, Jesus.” Each word comes out slashed and sliced with pain. “I want to break down and run so bad you couldn’t even begin to understand. I can’t. I won’t. You can, baby, do it for the both of us. Let it go.”
A sob breaks free, rattling my chest, radiating pain throughout my entire body. The bed bounces and soon Guy nestles his massive body between us. He licks Bentley’s face and then my ear. It repeats over and over until the darn dog has both of us bursting into laughter. I roll over, coming face-to-face with my husband. My hand goes to his jaw, tracing the outline of it.
Guy bounds off the bed and returns with squeaky toy slobber and all dripping down. He drops it between us, his tongue sticking out and ears perked up as far as they can go. It brings a smile to both of us. Even my dog is stepping up to the plate being my own personal hero. It’s the perfect remedy, keeping me from spiraling out of control with thoughts and worries I have no control over.
I throw the squeaky toy and Guy has it back to us within seconds. Bentley throws it next. The process repeats itself over and over again until it feels like a lazy Sunday afternoon. It’s the furthest from our reality, but therapeutic all in the same. He tires out after a solid twenty minutes of playing fetch with us.
My tears have dried up, leaving the brewing pit of anxiety low in my belly. It dulls to a low simmer when Bentley’s lips touch mine. My beating heart skitters as passion fuels me. I tumble head first into him, adrenaline coursing through me as my tongue sweeps into his mouth. Bentley rolls on top of me, covering me. He grinds his hips into mine, feeling the same as me.
He slides down my shorts and panties. I help him by pulling his oversized t-shirt over my head. His chiseled, perfect chest collides with mine as he pushes inside of me. I gasp, relishing each movement. We spend the rest of the night like this, and I plan to spend the rest of our evenings the same way. Bentley Foster will be branded and inked so deep in my soul, I won’t be able to forget him even if I tried.
12
“Our lives may have not fit together, but ohh did our souls know how to dance.” -K. Towne Jr
I’ll never get used to waking up to cold sheets on Bentley’s side of the bed. It leaves a sliver of me hollow, vacant, and cold. Guy was depressed the first seven weeks, moping around the house. It tore my heart out of my chest. He’s remained by my side, making it hard to leave him when I go to work and he has become more protective.
I received my first call from Bentley yesterday. His voice came across the line exhausted and defeated. I pried a bit, but he sidestepped each of my concerns. I winced every time there was a bang in the background. It was complete chaos, not doing anything to help my already fraying nerves.
I sit up in the bed, throwing off the blankets. A whiff of Bentley’s scent floats around the room. It’s faint and fading way too damn fast. A bottle of his cologne sits on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. I squirt his pillow every night in hopes of keeping his smell in the room. It’s not the same scent when it’s not mixed with skin.
All ten of my toes touch the chilled hardwood floor. I pull them back up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees and rock onto my back. The swift movement makes me dizzy and nauseous. The dizziness never disappeared and has stuck around since the bad news was delivered. I chalked it up to anxiety, stress, and worry. It’s getting worse coupled with the threat of puking. I’m also late.
I had to bite down on my lip to not spill my guts to Bentley. In the end, I know he doesn’t need any more worry on his shoulders. He’d take on that burden and my own worry. It would distract him. I’ve been known to be stubborn in the past. I’m not brave enough to even begin that game.
The doorbell rings in rapid succession. I smile, picturing my Sara Bug pushing it as fast as she can. She’s figured out how to push buttons, pick up toys, and squawk in delight. Her wild blonde curls, chubby cheeks, and bright baby blue eyes pretty much allow her to get away with anything.
I open the door to see the little chunk leaning over Maddie’s arm, poking the button. She giggles every single time the doorbell lights up, and the shrill of the bell goes off. When she spots me the doorbell is forgotten, her arms fly up, and bare feet kick against Maddie’s side.
“Ya-Ya.” She waves her arms in the air.
“Sara Bug.”
“Me.” She pats her chest with all the pride a year and half old toddler can muster up.
“Get over here.” I hold out my arms.
Sara leaps into them with gusto like she does every single time. If you’re not ready, it could turn into a disaster real quick. Maddie rubs her swollen belly and walks in. She’s six months pregnant. Yep, Coy has deemed his swimmers gold medalists.
It’s Maddie’s strength that keeps me glued together. She not only gave up her husband to the Army, but also the father of her babies. I’ve seen her shed a few tears in weak moments, but the woman is my rock. She pushes through everyday life with the same gusto her little girl has.
“Woof. Woof.” Sara reaches down toward Guy. The two are partners in crime. Last week, we caught Guy bringing Sara pieces of his dog food. She’d slap her palm over her mouth and gobble it down. I panicked. Maddie laughed. I place Sara on her bottom next to Guy. It doesn’t last even a second before she’s standing up and climbing on his back. I swear Guy smiles. He doesn’t move from his laying position, letting Sara run her fingers through his curly coat.
“Go pee on that stick, woman.” Maddie plops down in a dining room chair, kicking her feet up on the table.
“Nice to see you, too.” I pop my hand on my hip, offering up some sass. It’s opposite of what I’m feeling inside. Fake it until you make it, right?
The door bursts open, letting in a delicious aroma of fresh baked blueberry muffins. Mom’s frazzled, rushing in, setting the muffins down, and then clapping her hands together.
“Did I miss it?” Mom takes three strides until she’s in my face. “Well, did I?”
I shake my head unable to speak a word.
“Go!” Maddie pushes me down the hallway until I’m in the same bathroom I bled in last time. The door clicks behind me, and I’m alone. With shaky fingers, I pull out the pregnancy test, reading the directions even though I have them memorized by now.
Once finished, I place the test flat on the countertop and go to the kitchen. Sara Bug is in the high chair, shoving bits of blueberry muffins in her mouth with one hand and sipping on her milk cup with the other.
Mom rattles on about nonsense while Maddie watches her cell phone, biting on her nails. These two give me the strength to go on. If I had it my way, I’d avoid all of this until it was so obvious I couldn’t. I guess some would claim two missed periods would be pretty damn obvious.
“Go.” Maddie stands up, trying to guide me back to the bathroom. “It’s time.”
I shake my head side-to-side, refusing to face reality once again. I can’t stomach anymore heartache. I refuse to.
“Yes.” Maddie is determined and adamant. “You have to face it. Pregnant or not. Baby or miscarriage you have to face it, and we are here by your side. I’m not going to blow roses and rainbows up your ass. Whatever that tests says, we will get through it.”
We will…those two words
bounce around in my head. I finally nod my head, letting her know I’m ready, but I don’t move toward the bathroom. Sara has all of Mom’s attention. Maddie takes it upon herself. Each of her footsteps sends out echoing screams in my home. With each sound, my heart slows down. I can’t handle this.
Maddie reappears, but I refuse to look at her, instead staring at Mom, plucking Sara from her high chair.
“I’m looking now.” Maddie reaches down and grabs my hand. “We are here for you every single step of the way.” A pungent pause fills the air, causing my ears to sting.
“Holy shit,” she squeals.
It’s then I open my eyes and peer over to see two perfect, bright pink lines in the window indicator. Hope has always failed. Kicked me in the soul leaving me gutted. But this time I choose to believe. A slow smile spreads out across my face.
“I’m pregnant.” The two words ghost my lips in a whisper.
“You are.” Maddie wraps me up in a hug.
Mom soon joins with Sara in her arms. I feel her petite little hands tug my hair. I turn and grab her. She plays patty cake on my cheeks with a toothy grin then begins babbling.
“Shit. Ho shit. Shit.”
We all erupt in laughter. The amount of joy, trepidation, and excitement is so intense it’s crippling.
13
“Courage, dear heart.” C.S. Lewis
“Stop it.” Mom reaches over, grabbing my fingers.
They’ve been in steady movement since sitting down in the waiting room. Two weeks is only fourteen days, but when waiting on an OB/GYN appointment it feels like a lifetime. There has been no bleeding, lots of exhaustion, and some nausea. All positive signs are in sight, but there’s always that little reminder in the back of my head screaming at me.
