The New Ever After (The New Ever After Series)

by Farley, Julie

  The New Ever

  After

  Julie Farley

  Perfect Mamas Press

  The New Ever After

  Perfect Mamas Press

  Published by Perfect Mamas Press August 2013

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 Julie Farley

  Cover illustration by Rob Huddleston

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:0989222721

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9892227-2-3

  For Justin

  who puts up with me,

  loves me

  and inspires me.

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Publishing Tripped Up Love was the scariest thing I have ever done. But you, my readers, welcomed my book into the world and your lives. You, my readers, turned my dreams in to reality. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the tips of my toes.

  I couldn’t have written The New Ever After without the greatest support system in the world. Thank you to Jenni, a.k.a JD Combs, for being the best writing partner any time of the day or night. Thank you to Julie for being my editor and becoming my friend. Thank you for going the extra mile in so many ways. I could not have done this without you. Thank you to the original bus stop moms for buying my books for yourselves and your friends, for listening to my endless talk about my books, my numbers and my crazy plotlines, for attending my events and supporting me with your smiles and love and for sending my kids inside when I was too deep in the writing to make it out to the bus on time. Thank you to every single person I work with for all of your support. You have embraced my writing and me and it means the world to me. Thank you to Suzanne and Lauren for being awesome beta readers. Thank you to Suzanne for her attention to detail and her friendship every step of the way. Thank you to Ali for keeping our writing group together and on task. Thank you to Lisa for reading and re-reading this book and for helping and inspiring me each and every day in more ways than I can count. Thank you to Ryan for his unending knowledge about the technical topics in this book. He is truly my real life MacGyver! Thank you to the countless book clubs that have welcomed me into their groups and their homes.

  Thank you to my entire family - my in-laws, my brother, and my cousin - for your constant support. Thank you to my mom for cringing through some of the scenes in this book but reading and loving it anyway. Thank you to my kids who believe with the publication of this book they are one step closer to getting a pool or going to Hawaii. Thank you to Justin for everything.

  And just like last time, thank you to my dad even though he’s only with us in the stars. Thank you Dad for pulling some strings and making this dream a reality.

  "A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away." George Eliot

  The new ever after...it's filled with sadness and tears and overwhelming happiness. It's messy and chaotic and highly structured. It's days filled with nothing and hours scheduled by the minute. It's love and hugs and slobbery kisses. It's wishing the kids were all in college and crying that they are going to kindergarten. It's a lingering hole in your heart for an old love. It's not believing you're cooking for so many people and it's being unbelievably grateful that you have a partner-in-crime to help you. It's getting a hug even when you're covered in spit up. It's deciding between comfy cotton boyshorts and a fancy new thong. It's not wanting to roll over and kiss the one you're with and it's the hottest sex you’ve ever had. It's life, and it's your life. It's passing you by with hours that feel endless and years that are gone with the blink of an eye. The new ever after, it's what real fairy tales are made of.

  Prologue

  “Your blood pressure is 140/85. That’s too high. I can’t let you leave the office. We’re going to admit you and prepare to deliver the babies,” said the doctor.

  “What do you mean her blood pressure’s too high? Why is it high? The babies aren’t even due yet,” said Peter.

  “It happens in many multiple pregnancies. It’s called preeclampsia. The babies are 36 weeks. With twins, that’s a safe time to deliver them.”

  “But what about Heather? Is she in danger?”

  “No. As long as we deliver them now she should be fine.”

  “What do you mean deliver them now? If you wait an hour is she in danger?” asked Peter.

  “Mr. Adamson, your wife will be fine. We will deliver the twins before she is in any danger. That’s why we’re going to admit her now and monitor her progress,” said the doctor.

  Heather turned to Peter. “I’ll call my mom. She can stay with the other three kids. Will you call Jenny and ask her to pack me a bag of clothes and bring it to me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, yes, I can do that. What should I tell her?” said Peter as he ran his hand through his hair about five times in a row.

  “To bring me a bag of clothes,” said Heather for the second time.

  “What kind of clothes? Pajamas? Jeans? What would you like?” asked Peter.

  “Don’t worry. Jenny will know. Just call her!”

  “Ok, yeah, I’ll do it now.”

  The doctor interjected. “The nurse will come in and wheel you over to the hospital. You should have these babies in a few hours. I’ll be over shortly.”

  Heather called her mom who was already at the house watching the kids. Peter walked out into the hall to make his phone calls.

  3:03 Jenny: Just talked to Peter. He seems a little freaked. Are you ok?

  3:04 Heather: I’m fine. Happy to get these guys out of here. Will you pack my robe and the new Target pjs that are on the couch in my room?

  3:05 Jenny: No prob. Text with anything else. Xo

  Peter walked back in with the nurse and the wheelchair. Heather waddled over to the chair and plopped her overgrown body down.

  “Are you all set, Mrs. Adamson?” asked the nurse.

  “I am more than ready to have these babies. Let’s go.”

  “What can I get you, babe? Water? Will Jenny get the camera? Do you want something to eat?” Peter turned toward the nurse. “Can I stay with her or do I have to leave?”

  “Dude, chill out. Don’t get all crazy on me. I am fine. I’ll t
ell you if I need anything. Right now, I need you to be calm.” Shit, if this is how he’s going to act I’m in trouble, thought Heather.

  Peter ran his hands through his hair again. Even though it was the end of June, he was wearing one of his signature outfits that Heather had a hard time resisting even as she was being wheeled into the hospital – a white t-shirt, tight well-worn jeans and his black Doc Marten boots. The nurse kept stealing sideways glances at him. Heather was too excited to have the twins out of her stomach and into her arms to feel jealous.

  Heather was wheeled to a private room and the revolving door of nurses and administrators gathered vitals and necessary information. The anesthesiologist arrived and asked her when she had last eaten. She’d had lunch before her doctor’s appointment.

  “Ok. I’m going to give you a little concoction to clear everything out. It doesn’t taste good so drink it quickly, like a shot of tequila.”

  Heather did as she was told, and the nurses and doctor left them alone. Within two minutes, she was nauseous and started throwing up. Peter leapt up from the chair next to her and pushed the button on the remote asking for help from the nurse.

  “Yes? How can I help you?” asked the voice on the other end of the remote.

  “MY WIFE IS THROWING UP! HELP!”

  Heather was too busy tossing her cookies to tell Peter to relax, but a nurse arrived thirty seconds later to tell him just that.

  “Mr. Adamson, the doctor gave her a medicine to make her throw up so her stomach is empty in case we need to put a tube down her throat. Everything is normal. Mrs. Adamson is fine.”

  The nurse helped her clean herself up and Heather reprimanded Peter.

  “I am going to ask you to leave if you get crazy. I am fine. You need to help me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want anything to happen to you, and I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Heather knew fatherhood was new to him. He had gotten thrown into it faster than most. He was fabulous at helping her raise the older kids. But starting with babies was completely new to him, and she needed to keep that in mind.

  Peter took Heather’s hand and started rubbing circles on her palm. She sat back and focused on the circles and waited to be taken to the operating room. If he acted up again, she would ask them to give him a sedative.

  An hour later, Peter was sitting on a stool next to her head behind the big white sheet in the operating room. The anesthesia had taken effect and Heather couldn’t feel anything below her chest.

  “I love you, babe. I can’t believe you are having my babies,” he said as one tear dropped down his cheek.

  “I love you too. Thank you for calming yourself down.”

  Heather had delivered her other three children naturally, so it felt strange to be having babies without pushing them out. But this was certainly faster than the eighteen-hour labor she endured with Henry. The doctor made an incision and pulled one twin out and then the next.

  Emily Rose Adamson was born at 4:01 pm and was named for Heather’s grandma. George Henry Adamson was born one minute later at 4:02 pm. He was named for Peter’s grandfather and Heather’s first husband, Hank, who had died of a sudden heart attack a little more than two years earlier. Peter cried and snapped photos of the birth, inadvertently taking pictures of Heather’s insides that would soon become favorite family shots.

  Chapter 1

  Approximately Ten Months Later

  Hank and I are at Pony Pasture for the afternoon. I’m sitting on the rocks watching him swim in the rapids of the James River. The sun is bright and the fish are splashing about in the water. I see his hands reach up in the air once. I think nothing of it. I think he’s trying to propel himself up. It’s not until I see his head bob up with his mouth open gasping for air that I start to worry. His mouth’s open, and he’s going to swallow water if he doesn’t shut it. And then I don’t see him. I don’t see his arms or the strawberry blonde hair on the top of his head. So I stand up. I hop across the rocks to try to get as close as I can to where he was. I start yelling his name, “Hank!” I start waving my hands. But I don’t get into the water. I search the surface to see if I can see him. I can’t see anything beyond the geese that are standing two feet in front of me looking for food. I reach for my phone, and it falls out of my sweaty palms and into the river. I start screaming again, “HANK!” No one answers. I can only hear the water running over the rocks and the paddling of the geese. I bend down and kneel on the rocks and reach my hands into the water and grab for anything I can find. I only grab the river plants, and I can’t find anything that isn’t slimy. I’m looking for his hands and the tears are falling faster and harder and I’m frantically yelling his name, “HANK! HANK! HANK!” But he won’t be able to understand it any more because my tears and the snot that is streaming down my face are muffling my screams. “HANK! HANK! HANK!”

  And then I feel his arms wrap around me, and all I can say is, “Thank God! You’re alive.” And the arms grip me tighter and wake me from my sleep. I open my eyes to see the tattoos, and I remember that he’s still dead and it’s not his arms that are wrapped around me.

  Chapter 2

  Heather could hear George crying through the intercom. The birds were chirping right outside her window, so sunrise was imminent. With George and the birds, who needed an alarm clock? But today, she couldn't get up. She had pretended not to hear Emily when she had cried in the middle of the night, so Peter had gotten up and given her a binkie. He had gotten back into bed and kissed her on the forehead. A kiss while she was feigning sleep.

  And then she remembered the nightmare she’d had. Peter had comforted her and loved her while she screamed out for her dead husband. Peter made no secret that he loved her and he had every intention of always taking care of her. He had while she had her broken ankle and while she was hugely pregnant with the twins. And now he loved her and cradled her when she yelled Hank’s name in her sleep.

  Heather loved him too. She loved the way he was with her kids and with their babies. She loved the way he had kissed her and warmed her up when she’d had the chills after delivering the twins. She loved the way he would buy every kind of feminine product she could possibly need without batting an eye. She loved the way he was still so tender around the scar that was the entryway for their babies. She loved the way he had gone to get a vasectomy a month after the twins were born because they were certain five kids was enough. Mostly, she loved the way the sight or smell of him made her feel like she had a soda can inside of her that was about to bubble over. He made her whole body tingle, but today, even with all the love, she couldn't face the drudgery of the tasks before her. Especially after the terror she had faced while she slept.

  Maybe it’s my age, she thought. Forty had come and gone for Heather without much hoopla since the twins had been on their way and her first book was being published. But this year she had turned 41. And 41 felt harder and really old to Heather. Jenny, her best friend, told her to cut herself some slack. Heather thought that was easily said by a 38-year-old. Jenny thought it was probably the five kids that were making her feel old. But it wasn't just the kids. It was the extra wrinkles around her eyes and the spider veins around her knees. It was the saggy boobs and the need to hold the book farther from her eyes. It was the way gravity was taking its toll.

  Richard, her agent, had asked Heather to write a little piece about being 41 to use for some promotional material for her book. She had hemmed and hawed about it, but Peter had encouraged her. He wanted her to write more anyway. And finally, she had come up with something. Something she wanted to use as her mantra but had a hard time believing.

  At 41, I don't care about the roots that show in between salon visits. I don't care as much about the veins on my legs that I've earned from carrying five kids. I don't care if there is a little jiggle when I walk. I won't give up my chai or my beer. I don't care about pretenses. I care about down and dirty love and friendship. I care about real and messy sp
rinkled with honesty.

  At 41, I know where I'm going and honor where I've been. I don't care about being seen, the next new thing or dancing till dawn. I prefer intimate gatherings, conversations under the stars and things that tickle my whimsy.

  At 41, I know what is true and worthy. I can spot honesty and goodness a mile away and know that kindness is the only thing that matters.

  At 41, I can look to the future filled with hope and a smile.

  Richard loved it and had asked her to make a You Tube video of herself reading it. It went viral, and she had sold even more books. It felt good to Heather that even though she had no need to support herself, she could. She was making her way in the world and strangely was becoming both independent and dependent. Dependent on Peter and his love.

  But here was part of her problem. She didn't actually feel like she proclaimed to in her promotional piece everyday. That's the way she wanted to feel and strived to feel, but really she just felt old. Jenny tried dragging her to Bikram Yoga and all kinds of breathing and meditation classes to get her to chill out and feel the happiness she had. None of it worked, and today it was going to take more than a mantra to help her.