by H. M. Ward
Contents
Title Page
Copyright copy
Title Page copy-2
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Second Chances
By:
H.M. Ward
& Stacey Mosteller
www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by H.M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
H.M. WARD PRESS
First Edition: July 2014
ISBN: 9781630350321
Second Chances
Dear Reader,
This is a story that I dreamed up a long time ago, and without the assistance of a coauthor it would have taken another year, or more, before it came to life. SECOND CHANCES was imagined by H.M. Ward (me) and then I handpicked Stacey Mosteller to help bring these characters to life. We’ve written this book together, and had a lot of fun doing so!
I have to admit that I’m a little nervous. This isn’t like the other HM Ward books you’ve read. This is a tear jerker romance, as you noticed if you saw the video teaser. Grab your tissues and get ready.
I can’t wait to hear what you think!
-HM Ward
Chapter 1
"Ma'am?" The officer is sitting beside me on my little couch, his eyes full of sympathy that I don't want to see. As soon as I opened the door, the pit of my stomach dropped and a chill raced up my spine, strangling me into silence. I know why he’s here, standing tall with a second officer, both in dress blues. They are here to say the words no wife wants to hear, but he’s yet to say them. First they introduced themselves, mild smiles on their faces, and asked to come in. Then they start down the slow path to reality, one that ends with a coffin. I know how this works. I know because it’s something I’ve feared every time Cade deployed.
Just breathe. Staring blankly at Cade’s huge television hanging across the room, I continue to hold the serene smile on my face, as if they are here for tea. The surreal nature of the moment needs to be shattered, but I can’t do it.
"Ma'am, I’m afraid we’re here with bad news," the chaplain starts again, putting a hand on my shoulder and startling me back to the present. "Is there someone we can contact for you so you won't be alone?"
I shake my head and keep my eyes fixated on the TV—the TV Cade wanted so badly, with the super huge screen and the super expensive HD whosie-whatsit that he thought was so cool. I never could see a difference. Cade stood in the store gaping and excitedly pointing, explaining why this one was better, how the screen was so much sharper even though they all looked the same to me. We had gone into the mall for a blender, and came out with this. Cade was beaming, practically bouncing up and down. It seemed like a better purchase, because no kitchen appliance in the world would ever put that kind of smile on my face. Now the television sits there silently, its black screen mocking me.
I find my voice. “Just say it. I can’t bear it any longer. I know why you’re here. Just say it.” My throat is so tight that the words sound strangled. I blink once, but I don’t dare look at him.
His head lowers and he says the words I knew were coming. They float through the air and for a moment this seems like someone else’s life, not mine. But his firm hand on my shoulder, the way he grips my arm and tips his head to the side to catch my eye makes me look at him. He says, “I’m sorry for your loss. Can I call someone?”
I shake my head. The one person I want is gone.
“Ma’am, if there’s anything I can do—anything at all—please call.” He hands me a card. I take it between my fingers, noticing the smoothness of the paper on my skin. Minutia rules in moments like these. The clock ticks louder, my breathing is labored and sounds like screams in my ears. A car rolls down the street roaring like a jet engine rather than an automobile. Another tick. Another tock. A drop of water from the faucet splashes in the sink deafeningly loud.
In a zombie-like state, I walk the men to the door and thank them. I smile and go through the motions like a robot. Thank you for coming. Thank you for telling me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Closing the door behind them, I lean back against it, my knees going weak as I remember how happy I was just a few hours ago. Today should be one of the most joyful days of my life, and instead, I'm preparing to tell everyone I know that Cade will never come home.
I knew something was wrong, but I wouldn’t let myself worry. Things happen sometimes preventing his call. I kept telling myself it was nothing, but my stomach’s been so queasy. Cade promised he would call me on Tuesday. I was grinning ear to ear since Monday night, practically bouncing up and down with news, but his call never came. Then, Wednesday and Thursday both passed without a call or even an email, but I still told myself that it was nothing. Plus my secret was burning a hole in my mouth. I had to tell him and I wanted to tell him first, so I waited—excited beyond measure—dreaming of a future that can never exist.
Pushing off the door, I walk over to the hallway table that sits by the phone. I look down at the tiny white stick that changes everything. One little word that would have made him so happy, and now he'll never know.
Suddenly, tears begin to roll down my cheeks in great globs. They fall so fast and furious, I can barely see. Picking up the pregnancy test, I clutch it to my chest as my legs give out and I sink to the floor. I pull my knees tightly into my chest and my head tips forward to rest on top of them. Bone crushing anguish races through my body as I hold fervently to that piece of plastic.
“I never got to tell him,” I say to no one.
I glance at the stick again, staring at the one word that seemed like magic a few days ago.
PREGNANT.
Now this baby is all I have left of Cade, and our child will grow up never knowing his father.
Chapter 2
I don't know how long I sit on the floor in front of the phone, staring at the word pregnant glaring up at me. I barely move when my mother kneels down beside me, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight. She murmurs nonsense into my hair as she rocks us back and forth, before noticing what I'm clutching in my hands.
"Oh honey!" she exclaims. "When did you find out?" Her excitement is palpable, even through both of our tears.
I don’t understand how she can be happy right now, about anything. I was overjoyed about the baby when I first found out, but that happiness has been eclipsed by gut-wrenching grief. Instead of spending the next e
ight months sharing sonogram pictures, picking out baby names, and decorating a nursery with my husband, I will instead spend the next eight months knowing he won't ever see our baby.
He'll never hold him.
He’ll never get to love him.
The only way my baby will know his daddy is from me telling him about him. That pains me so much that I can’t think about it. We’d tried so hard for so long, that we thought a baby wasn’t in the cards for us. Other couples pop out kids like Pop Tarts. Ding! Here’s another! That wasn’t the way it went for us. Years passed with no luck.
I slam my head back into the wall and let the tears streak down my face, not bothering to wipe them away. "Monday night. I never got to tell him, Mom. Now, he'll never know." Dissolving into sobs once more, whatever she says doesn't register. I melt into a puddle on the floor and curl into a ball. I can’t stop crying. I want to stop, but the sobs won’t let up. The next thing I know my dad’s by my side, helping me stand, before they both walk me into the bedroom.
My mom pulls back the comforter and guides me onto the mattress. Kissing my forehead, she says, "Why don't you rest for a while. We'll start making phone calls and letting everyone know, okay?" Her voice breaks, and I can see Daddy wrapping his arms around her, much like she did for me earlier, and pain rips my chest in two.
Cade should be here. He should be hugging me while we whisper in bed, dreaming about things to come, our little family, and losing each other in kisses and hugs. Instead of preparing for that future, I will be planning his funeral. Instead of embracing this new life, I'm saying goodbye to his. Sorrow chokes me and I scream at the top of my lungs, “It’s not true! He can’t be gone! He promised me! Mom, he promised me!”
Her hand rests gently on my forehead as she strokes my hair away from my face. My body heaves as I sob into my pillows, screaming that this isn’t fair, that it can’t be true. This isn’t my life. “They made a mistake. They must have. He was going to call, he was. He was…”
Mom sits there until I still and the tears slow. She says nothing. Sometimes there is nothing to say. Her aged hand strokes my brow over and over again, using the soothing touch that I remember so well from when I was a little girl. She stays until I’m finally calm, then kisses my cheek and slips out the door.
I've known Cade my entire life. We grew up next door to each other and were in the same classes all the way through elementary school. When I first started crushing on boys, he was the only one I noticed. Cade was my first kiss, my first and only love, my everything. I don't know how to live without him; he’s been with me through everything, everyday, for years.
Turning over, I face the wall and shut my eyes, letting the tears continue to fall as I clutch his pillow to me, holding it the way I wish I were holding him. I keep one hand on my stomach, cradling the only part of him I have left. All I can think about is the fact that he's gone. I'll never see his smile or hear his voice, never feel the touch of his hand. Cade will never get to put his hand on my belly to feel the baby kick, he won't be here when this child is born, and we won't take our baby home together. I worry that my grief will hurt the baby, so I try to hold it together. I can’t fall apart no matter how much I want to lay down and never get up again. This child needs me to be strong, and I wish I was.
As I lay on the bed we shared, I barely register the low tones of people talking on and off throughout the afternoon. Their voices carry in to the bedroom through the cracked door. Periodically, Daddy walks by and glances into the room, but he keeps his distance. The only way he knows to cure tears is with chocolate or dollies. The broken woman on the bed isn’t a little girl anymore and no amount of toys will fix this. He paces away, back to the living room. They stay here in our little old house, making calls and preparing everything that needs to be done.
My tears fall freely, mourning the loss of my best friend, my husband, my soul mate. Finally, all the crying takes it’s toll and I fall into a fitful sleep where I dream of the way things should have been.
Chapter 3
~TWO MONTHS PRIOR~
The sound of the bus that will take Cade's unit to the plane is drowned out by the sobs that are wracking my body. I promised myself that I wouldn't do this. I wouldn't send him off to war with the memory of me with a tear-stained face. We've been here before, this isn't his first deployment. But, I don't want to be here again. I don't know what I would do if I lost Cade, and that's all I've been able to think about for days.
My husband just finished training for his latest promotion at Lackland Air Force Base and now he's being sent back to Iraq. Because this base is close to both of our parents, when we decided to start our family, Cade wanted me to be closer to them—especially knowing accepting his most recent promotion meant he would be deployed soon. He wants our child to be closer to its grandparents than he was to his own growing up. We never considered the possibility that I wouldn't get pregnant right away, or that we'd still be trying years later.
Getting pregnant has been so much harder than we thought it would be. It's simple, right? Decide to have a baby, go off birth control, and boom—you're pregnant. Yeah, not so much. It's been a never-ending cycle over the past year of both hope and disappointment. I'm almost thirty-one years old and I'm afraid I'm never going to be a mom. Each time I've had to say goodbye to my husband, I panic thinking of stories I see all the time about other soldiers who’ve been killed in the line of duty. Losing Cade isn't the only thing that terrifies me. The idea of losing him and having nothing left of him? That's enough to break me for good.
Tears run unchecked down my cheeks as we prepare to say goodbye. A military goodbye is nothing like a normal trip goodbye. Each time he's deployed, we've said goodbye as though we'll never see each other again and it's so damn hard. Nothing is going the way it should lately, and him leaving so soon after finding out once again that I'm not having his baby makes it ten times more difficult.
"Oh, sweetheart, come here." Cade pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight. I wrap my arms around his neck as though I could keep him here with me by never letting him go. Inhaling deeply, I try to commit his scent to memory; it's a cross between his favorite cologne and the body wash he's been using since high school. It's my favorite smell in the world, and one I never want to forget.
Cade rubs my back soothingly as he murmurs, "It's okay, Genevieve. The next six months are going to fly by, and before you know it, you'll be back here picking me up so we can go home. This is nothing. Now, no more tears."
Reaching up, Cade pulls my arms away from the death grip they have on his neck and backs away from me slightly. Shaking his head, he smiles softly at me as he frames my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks. Leaning forward he presses his mouth to mine. His tongue traces my lips and I open them in response, tangling my tongue with his, savoring our last kiss for the next few months.
Cade releases me and steps away. One corner of his mouth creeps up as he adjusts the sand colored bag on his shoulder. Looking at my husband standing in front of me, wearing his flight suit, a bag on his shoulder and another, bigger bag at his feet, I'm struck by just how handsome he is. He's tall, taller than me by about four inches, with blonde hair and eyes the color of melted chocolate. He's thin, just muscular enough to be hot but not too muscular, and his look hasn't changed much since we got married. He's filled out in some places, thinned down in others. He's definitely not that eighteen-year-old boy, but you'd never guess he was over thirty either.
Taking my hand, Cade pulls it up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on my wedding rings. He bought them for me just after basic training and he was so nervous to propose. The engagement ring is white gold with one large stone in the middle, a smaller stone on either side and then tiny stones around the band. The wedding band matches, part of a set, and is covered in the same tiny stones. The kiss he places on my rings is our good luck charm. He's given me the same kiss on each deployment and he’s come home every time.
Leani
ng in one final time, Cade wraps his arms around my middle, kissing my neck softly. Turning, I place my lips against his ear and whisper, "Maybe next time." It's been just over two weeks since the last negative test, and knowing he was going to be gone soon, we didn't try again.
Pulling away, he smirks at me, "Next time. And, even if it's not, we'll still have fun trying, babe." He runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek, his smile faltering just a little. "I love you, Genny. Don't ever forget that."
"I love you too, Cade." Then, together, we say the same thing we've said every deployment for luck. We have so many rituals for these goodbyes. "Twice as much as yesterday, but not half as much as tomorrow."
As he turns to grab his other bag so he can board the bus, my mom's arm wraps around me and hugs me close. Sighing, I lay my head on her shoulder, trying to smile for my husband. I don't want his last memory of me for the next few months to be tears running down my cheeks. I force the corners of my mouth up, though it probably looks more like I have gas than anything else.
Mom elbows me in the side and mumbles, “Smile, Genny.”
I elbow her back, gently. “I am.”
“You look constipated.”
“So do you.”
My mom’s jaw drops mid-wave as she stares at me, which makes me smile.
Cade laughs. "Take care of her for me, okay?" He asks my mom. "Don't let her worry, and make sure she stays busy. The next few months will fly by." She agrees, and before he walks away, he leans in for one last kiss. Mom blushes as she looks over her shoulder at us, like we shouldn’t be so intimate in public.
Cade turns to me, kissing away one of the tears rolling down my cheek, "See you soon, baby."
