by Rene Folsom
One day, many years from now, I will begin stealing this child’s weekend sleep-ins. He will protest, and I will tell him payback is a dish best served at seven fucking thirty in the morning.
The Saturday morning glare of the harsh June sun seems to be pelting me with its heat as I force myself to wake up and go check on Max. In my haste to make it to the crib in record time, I trip over something big, warm, and furry.
“Ugh, Henry!” A whimper follows my scowl, and I realize it isn’t the dog’s fault the baby is crying. “I’m sorry, bud,” I coo, while bending over to pet behind his ear.
The wailing coming from the child’s wooden-bar confinement grows louder. Taking a deep breath, I begin to calm my erratic heartbeat, knowing full well children can sense fear and anxiety, just like dogs.
As soon as his eyes land on me, he stops his sobbing and juts that cute, pouty little lip out, almost as if he knows he has to keep his game face on so as to convince me of his need to be held. A lone crocodile tear falls from his eye and trails down his chubby cheek.
“There’s no way all that noise could come from one little man,” I say in a singsong voice as I reach down and gather him in my arms. “Oh my, you’re a soggy bottom boy.” His diaper has to weigh at least ten pounds with all that liquid. I just hope none comes squirting at me like a fire hose while I’m changing him again.
Boys are dangerous... plain and simple.
As I’m changing the little monster, he smiles up at me and I’m immediately reminded of his father. Little Max is five months old today. I can’t help the sorrow that creeps into my veins with the fact that Maximus hasn’t returned as promised. I haven’t received a single letter since my Valentine’s Day surprise, and all attempts to contact his family members have failed.
Did he change his mind? Did he decide he didn’t want to come back to this small, Podunk town in the middle of nowheresville? On the one hand, I can’t blame him, on the other, I can’t help but freak out at the thought he might’ve been injured, or worse...
A squeal brings me out of my miserable thoughts. Little Max is attempting to eat his entire wrist, drool going all over the place and staining his new little onesie.
“You hungry, little guy?” I ask as I pick him up and begin to carry him to the rocking chair. As if he needs to answer me, he begins to tug on my shirt.
As I nurse my son, I begin to think that continuing to hope for his return isn’t healthy for me. I can’t keep planning my life around a man I haven’t seen in over a year and haven’t heard from in damn near four months.
I’m thankful I’ve been able to afford my own place again. Living with my parents wasn’t all that bad, but the pressure was a bit too much to bear. My mom has been trying to convince me that I need to move on with my life—make decisions for my son and myself instead of waiting around for a man who now seems to be nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Yet that flicker of hope still pokes at the back of my mind that he will come for me someday soon. I can only dream he will accept little Max with an open heart.
Independence Day—a day I usually dread because of my distaste toward being in the spotlight. My mother’s silly sense of humor at naming me Liberty because I was born on the nation’s birthday never ceases to amaze me. Yet now my trepidation is increasingly opaque because it is also the two-year anniversary of the day I fell in love with Maximus.
My Maximus.
My missing-in-action Maximus.
Putting on a brave face, I strap little Max to my front, using one of those comfy baby carriers. Whoever invented these contraptions deserves a metal. Little Max just loves being able to greet everyone head on, while I waddle around town with him in tow.
In order to save my back, I schedule myself to assist with the animal shelter’s information booth—sitting in a chair, passing out flyers, and answering any questions a passerby may have while they check out the downtown festivities.
The fake smile I have plastered on my face is obvious to those close to me, yet they choose to keep their distance. I internally thank them for not poking the bear. I’m not sure my emotions can handle the mention of Max. Hell, even the thought of him causes a lump to form in my throat, my breathing hitching at the reality that he isn’t here with me.
Believe it or not, time seems to fly, and I find myself searching for my family along the sidewalks of Main Street as other townsfolk celebrate while waiting for the parade to start.
My stomach coils into a fit of nerves as I see a group of soldiers mingling down at the far end of the street, obviously getting ready to march in formation for the parade.
Kissing the top of little Max’s head, I whisper, “See those men? Your daddy is a strong man, just like them.”
My mom’s voice hollering my name has me swiping the tears from my eyes and composing myself before she has a chance to see my sorrow.
Chapter Six
Maximus
I can’t contain my nervous excitement as the fire engine I’m riding on slowly crawls down the street. The hot, unforgiving sun is beating down on my thick uniform, causing beads of sweat to cover my brow, and making it very evident we’re smack in the middle of summer. Regardless of the heat, I just can’t wait to see her. People line the sidewalks, hollering and waving their American flags as we pass by them in slow motion, yet their shouts and cheers mean nothing to me while I frantically search for her.
Hanging on with one arm, I wave back, making it seem like I’m part of this celebration somehow. So far, no one has recognized me, and for that, I’m thankful. The last thing I want is to be distracted when I finally see her.
Just the thought of being in her presence again has my stomach all tied in knots. I’ve never been so nervous before in my life. I just hope she’s here. She has to be here. Her family always watches the parade. It’s tradition. And I am banking my future on the hope they still hold their annual tradition on the south side of the street like they did the year I fell in love with her.
My body seems to know where she is before my eyes can catch up. Tingles of excitement thrum through my body, pulsing through my veins with the rapid beat of my heart. She does this to me.
Suddenly, my eyes land on a beautiful sea of red hair blowing in the breeze and I know, without a doubt, it’s her.
My Liberty.
Perched on the side of the fire engine, I wait until she turns around. I want to see her. I want to know she will still accept me before I take the final few steps into her life.
As she slowly turns in my direction, I catch sight of something completely unexpected. A little, redheaded baby attached to her chest catches me off guard, and I freeze.
A baby?
My head can’t seem to process dates and do the math quickly enough before her eyes finally lock with mine. Nervous about this new little development, I make a last-minute decision and slip the ring into my side pocket.
As I hop down from the truck while it’s still in motion, Libby’s hands cover her mouth and an obvious sob leaves her throat. I can see her tremble with each step I take toward her. The sight of her eyes tearing up causes my emotions to immediately play tug-of-war with my heart.
While taking the final few steps to close the distance between us, Holly reaches in and takes the child from Libby’s chest.
Maybe it’s her sister’s baby?
I don’t have time to process my thoughts before Libby launches herself into my arms. Her sobs seem to be louder than the raucous activities around us and suddenly, with her here in my arms, everyone else seems to fade away. No one exists except this beautiful, fragile woman I’m holding tight to my chest. My sudden worry she wouldn’t want me anymore leaves my mind as we hold onto each other for dear life.
With her body shaking, I can tell she’s having a hard time catching her breath. Regardless of this, I don’t dare pull away just yet. I need to feel her, to know that she’s real.
With her breath hot against my neck, she says, “Damn you! Don’t you ever leave me again!�
�� Her muffled voice, while filled with apparent sobs, is forceful and demanding.
“Never,” I say as I increase my hold on her.
I want to kiss her, but her trembling body is clutched so tightly to mine, anyone around us would think we were one being rather than two. Not to mention the kiss I plan to give her is one I don’t dare offer in public while wearing my uniform.
Calming down a bit, she backs away and looks into my eyes, all while keeping her hands clutched possessively around my biceps. Her nails dig through the thick fabric of my uniform, and I welcome the sensation. It means she’s real. She’s really here in front of me.
Instead of leaning in for a kiss—which I must admit, I thought was going to be our next course of action—Libby backs away from me with what I can only describe as fear outlining her soft features.
All the loud sounds of the crowd and parade come barreling back to me, as if I’m being trampled by the goddamn band. She’s backing away from me and, for the life of me, I can’t imagine why.
With the grace only a mother can possess, Libby reaches out and takes the baby from her sister’s arms, giving it a light peck on its chubby cheek in the process. Without saying a word, she turns her back to me and begins to walk down a side street.
My dumb ass stands there, completely stunned and confused as to whether I should follow her or let her leave. It isn’t until Holly punches my chest and shoos me away, that I find my brains and begin to trail behind her.
As if time begins to move in slow motion, I watch her body sway back and forth with the weight of the baby in her arms and the large bag hanging from her shoulder. It doesn’t take long for me to notice she’s heading toward the park just a few blocks away, so I try to jog a few steps and position myself beside her as we walk. Nothing is being said... yet.
Walking in stride, I peek over at her and share the most charming smile I can manage. Regardless of how freaked out I am that she has a baby in her arms, I’m still so glad to see her beautiful face.
With labored breath, she nearly sprints to the damn park. She still hasn’t said anything, and I can’t help but feel like something important is about to spill from those beautiful lips.
As we enter the small park, which is more like a large patch of grass with trees and a few concrete benches, she finds a huge, shaded oak and heads for cover from the brutal July sun. Without saying a word, she looks to the ground around her before setting her gaze on me.
“Here,” she says as she holds the baby out toward me. “Hold him for a few while I spread a blanket out.”
“Ahh,” I mumble, hesitant to touch such a fragile-looking little thing. Realizing this must be a test of some sort, I accept the writhing little being and hold it out in front of me.
Then it happened.
Looking into the eyes of this little baby, I suddenly see my own reflection.
My blue eyes...
My crooked smile...
...and cute, curly red hair.
Chapter Seven
Liberty
God, I don’t know how I’m going to explain to this man he has a five-month-old baby boy. I just hope he’s not thinking I’m some sort of tramp who went and got pregnant while he was away.
No, this is my Maximus we’re talking about here. He knows me better than I know myself, regardless of the time and distance put between us over the past fourteen months.
Laying one of the receiving blankets out on the plush grass, I look up and notice Max is studying his son while still holding him at arm’s length. His fear of the unknown has my smile broadening involuntarily.
I don’t dare take the baby from him. Instead, I step close and gently guide his son closer to his chest.
“You can hold him. He won’t break,” I instruct as I place my hand on his forearm and support the baby’s back while he settles him in his arms. Being five months, he is old enough to hold his own, but I can tell Max is beyond worried he will break if held the wrong way.
“What’s his name?” he asks while staring deep into his son’s eyes.
“Well, I wanted him to have a piece of both of us,” I explain with a bit of a blush tinting my face. “So, I named him Maximus Liberato.”
Max’s head jerks to meet my stare, and the look on his face can only be described as one of shock. “Us?”
I nod. “Max, I’d like you to meet your son. He’ll be six months old soon.”
Max just stares, obviously stunned beyond belief. He no longer sways while holding his son. Instead, he just looks at me as if I have purple hair.
“I found out about two weeks after you left. I’m so—”
“My son?” he gasps, looking back and forth between the baby and me.
“Yes. I wanted so badly to tell you. He... ahh... he has your eyes,” I stammer in an attempt to make light of the elephant in the room.
“No shit. My son?”
“Yep. Maximus Liberato Becker.”
“You gave him my name?”
“Of course,” I say with a bit of a sigh. Passing my fingers through the baby’s unruly hair, I feel the need to add how important this man is to me. “He has a very strong daddy and therefore deserves a strong name.”
Searching his face to make sure he understands, I notice Max’s eyes begin to gloss over. Without warning, a light sob leaves his lips and immediately draws me to him.
Careful not to crush our son between us, I step to him, rise on my tippy toes, and press my forehead to his. With a tear trickling down his cheek, he crushes his lips to mine and then mutters, “He’s so beautiful. Just like you. Thank you.”
I just let him cry and bathe little Max in kisses. I know there’s no way he can make up for lost time, but watching him try is enough to make my heart swell like the Grinch on Christmas day.
All too soon, little Max starts fussing, and I can tell it startles Max a bit.
“What do I do? Is he okay?”
I laugh and reach for the baby. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just a little hungry. He hasn’t eaten much with all the festivities going on around him.” I watch Max carefully as I sit down in the grass with the baby and begin rummaging through the diaper bag. Understanding seems to cross his face, and then a flicker of joy consumes him, most likely indicating he has a brilliant idea.
“Can I feed him?” he asks with excitement while kneeling down in front of me.
“Well, I don’t think you have the right equipment,” I say with a smile as I strap the nursing bib around my neck and begin to lift my shirt.
“Oh,” he says, disappointed. Then he realizes what I mean. “Ohh,” he breathes.
Settling down in the grass beside me, Max hesitantly peeks over my shoulder before abruptly backing away, as if he’s worried I’ll get upset if he looks.
I can’t resist the chuckle that leaves my throat. “You can watch. I just keep this around me while in public. He’s surprisingly tolerant of it. If you put your head on my shoulder, you can look straight down at him.”
Hesitant at first, Max finally leans in and gazes down at his son. After a few moments of silence, he finally speaks. “I’m sorry I’m being such a fool. I’m just beyond shocked. I don’t know what to say or how to act.”
“I know. It’s okay. I wanted so badly to tell you.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through this on your own,” he says, surprising me with his remorseful tone. I almost begin to think he’s upset he came home to such a surprise before he finally continues, “But I can’t think of a better homecoming present than this.”
My tears brim to the surface again as I look over at him, and I can no longer hold back. “Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” I sob. Yeah, the same ugly cry that made its appearance when I first saw him comes back unwelcome. But this time, he seems more prepared to join me in my sob fest as he laces his fingers through my hair and presses our lips sloppily together.
“I love you so much, Libby. I didn’t think I could love someone more, but now... this?” he says as he gestures with his head to
ward our nursing son. “I just don’t have the words.”
“No words are necessary,” I affirm with a slight shake to my head. “Just hold me for a while. All I need is you right now.”
Spending the rest of the afternoon catching up, I feel like I’m floating on air. It’s a wonderful feeling to have him by my side again.
We hit a bit of a bump when he spoke about his battle buddy, Kenz. The breakdown was inevitable as he told me about losing his best friend. I had no words worthy enough to console him. I only hoped my hugs were enough to let him know I’d always be there for him.
As dusk approaches, he asks, “Are they still setting off fireworks over the lake?”
“Yeah, but I think we should probably head home.” As soon as the words spill from my mouth, Max’s face drops in disappointment. Grabbing the center of his uniform more harshly than I probably should, I pull him to me and forcefully say, “You’re definitely coming home with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Chucking his uniform rules out of my mind, I pull him down further and crush my lips to his. Stars dance in my vision as I kiss him—truly kiss him—for the first time since he’s been home. This isn’t just a simple, closed-mouth kiss like before. This is a full-blown, mouth-watering, panty-drenching, fire-starting kiss.
Pulling away all too soon, he pants and says, “Your new place better be nearby.”
“Right around the corner,” I answer with a grin.
Taking the diaper bag from my shoulder, he gestures in front of us and says, “Lead the way... quickly.”
I begin to walk, but laugh at his impatience and say, “You know we still have to put him to sleep, right?”
“Yep, and I can’t wait to enjoy every minute I get to spend with him until his little eyes finally close.”
Chapter Eight
Maximus
