Stand (Southern Heartbeats Vol. 1)

by Jennifer Rebecca

  “What?” She steps closer. Oh no. I tried to warn her. “Whatever. Like you’re a threat to me,” she snaps. I open my mouth to tell her to back the fuck off forgetting the situation for a moment, when I pour the contents of my stomach all over Kimmy’s ugly ass dress.

  “Oh, gross,” the other two girls scream.

  “You fucking cow!” Kimmy shouts. “Look what you’ve done!”

  “Well, this has been fun, but I think my work here is done. I’ll see you around, girlfriends,” I smile and wave. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

  I quickly make my way back through the crowds and hear Jim wrapping up his speech to Cody. So much love in that family. I love them all so much. He makes me think of my own dad. We have a long row to hoe to fix that mess, but I’m fairly sure we want to, most days. I even think he’s in the crowd somewhere cheering me on. Or at least I hope so. Cody is it for me and I won’t let anyone stand in my way.

  I peek around the last row of press and see him standing there at the podium. God, Cody is handsome. I smile softly as I watch him. I could stare at this man for hours. The way he stands, the way he moves, the way he treats people. The way he always made me feel cherished and loved. I love this man. His eye catches mine and for the first time in a longtime, I see him smile. And I know it has to match my own.

  Cody

  Wrong. That’s how this whole thing feels. Just wrong. My suit is itchy. My tie is too tight. My heart hurts too much. Just. Wrong.

  I’m sitting on the stage in New York awaiting my Hall of Fame induction. This should be the best day of my life. The culmination of everything I have ever worked for. And it is. But it’s also not. My parents are sitting on the opposite end of the stage from me with proud smiles on their faces and heartache in their eyes. It’s probably the way my face would look right now if I were able to smile. But that ship sailed when my girl wouldn’t talk to me, and my best friend died.

  Sam was supposed to be here with me. He’s one of my coaches at the school, but before that we played on the same teams growing up; from peewee to college. There is no one else that knows me better. But last week, a drunk driver cut Sam’s life short with one shitty decision. Not only that, but the lives of his daughters too. The last time I saw Sam, he was telling me to fix what was broken between Angel and I before it was too late. The irony is not lost on me.

  The last time I talked to Angel, when it was good, before it went bad, she promised she would be here with me today. But she hates me, so she’s not. I fucked it all up. I saw her at the funeral. She looked bad. Still devastatingly beautiful, but broken hearted, nonetheless. Gorgeous in her funeral dress, her wild blonde hair tastefully swept back and basic black heels. But her eyes. Her eyes were red rimmed and sad. I wanted to go to her. I barely held back knowing she wouldn’t want that. And I had a duty to my friend. There are no words to describe being a pall bearer for your best friend’s daughter. They split us up civilian friends and family escorted the girls, Marines escorted Sam’s flag covered coffin. If I never do it again, it’ll be too soon. I’ll never forget the look on Holt’s face as he presented the flag to Aliza. I rub my chest over the ache when the memory passes across my brain.

  I kept thinking Angel would come to me, but she didn’t. So after all was said and done and rifles fired, I hopped on a plane and headed east. I didn’t intend to stay here long; just long enough to fulfill my media obligation, see my number retired, and my plaque added to the facility.

  The interviews leading up to today’s ceremony just about killed me. They kept asking about Sam, and how hard it must be for me to be here without him. Then they asked me about the woman I was rumored to be engaged to, and where she was presently. I was honest about the former and vague about the latter which was frustrating for all.

  Holt, who is also here with us today, takes to the podium. He’s supposed to introduce some photomontage of my life and career; everything that leads up to this moment. I have no idea what is in it. My family put it together and I’m nervous, but excited to reminisce with them.

  “Good afternoon everyone, my name is Holden Stone, but don’t call me that. Everyone calls me Holt. I’ve known Cody my whole life. In fact, Cody, my brother, and I were all born the same week.

  “We spent our childhood together, with my twin brother, Will, and our dear friend, Sam, who we lost this week, but I know is looking down on us right now. We went fishing, camping, and played football like boys do. Cody was always ahead of the pack. But it wasn’t just talent, he wanted it. He worked for it. When Cody and Sam got recruited to college, no one was surprised.

  “Signing day and draft day were some of the best days of his life.“Last night, I thought about what Sam and Will would want to tell you if they could be here today. And I think they would tell you that they’re most proud of your drive and tenacity. You never gave up. Well, Sam, would feel like you need another pep talk on the subject but we’ll talk about that later. But you did it. No matter how great the task, be it making the pros, making the super bowl, relearning how to walk, coaching the best team our town has had since you played to the state championships. You never gave up. So, without further ado, here is a look at the making of you, Cody.”

  Rascal Flatt’s “Stand” plays over the loud speakers at the stadium while pictures of my life flash before me. A baby in a Dallas Cowboys outfit, a little boy running with a football that’s as big as he is, my high school and college ball, that picture of me catching the ball before my career ending hit, then the newspaper clipping covering the accident and the end of my career, pictures of me in rehab in a wheelchair, then walking, coaching the War Eagles from the sidelines with Sam. Pictures of me with my family and friends interwoven. I’m momentarily surprised when a picture of Angel in my arms laughing slips by. The last picture is a picture of my kids celebrating a State Championship win on the field with me this last season. It freezes there until the song ends while my dad steps up to the podium and addresses me directly over the mic.

  “Cody, my boy, my son, all grown up. You’re mother told me to get up here and say a bunch of girlie shit about feelings, but that’s not my style. And the only words I have for you is how very proud we are of you. You have never, not once, let us down. And I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you,” he finishes cryptically before introducing me. “Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, my son, Cody Reynolds.”

  I step up to the podium and give a great big hug to my dad, quietly thanking him for everything he has ever done for me, to encourage me, to inspire me my whole life, but for our ears only. When he resumes his seat, I take a deep breath and stick my fingers in my suit pockets; a nervous habit from way back.

  I rock back on my heels, preparing for what I’m about to say, when I look up and see the face of an angel. Well, mine at least, is standing behind the last of the press seats, looking at me with nervous, wide eyes. God, I’ve miss those blue eyes. And suddenly, for the first time in days, I feel a smile on my face.

  “I screwed up, baby,” I say into the mic. Angel’s face goes beat red. “You deserved the truth, no matter how hard. I wanted to protect you and I failed. Tell me you forgive me.”

  She just nods. The wave of press looks to her and then back to me.

  “Okay, now tell me you love me.”

  The press laughs and looks to her again. And again she nods.

  “Okay, last question, tell me you’ll marry me,” I ask her and then hold my breath.

  The press swings back to her in full tennis match fashion. And again, she nods.

  “Seriously?” I ask. Getting excited.

  “Yeah, baby,” she beams at me.

  “Come here, baby,” I tell her, holding out my hand and she does not disappoint when she does not hesitate to make her way to me. When she reaches me, she wraps her arms around my middle and buries her face in my chest.

  “I love you, baby,” I tell her. “I’m going to make you so happy.” She looks up at me, and smiles, bu
t something flashes in her eyes. And then she hurls all over me like she’s the first President Bush and I’m a Japanese dignitary, then promptly passes out in my arms. Yep, that’s totally ending up on YouTube later.

  “We’re going to need a medic,” I call out.

  The ride to the Emergency Room was not as short as it would have been in Tall Pines, but short for New York. It is not lost on me, as I sit in the bay with Angel next to the hospital bed she’s laying in while we wait for her lab results, that this is the hospital where I first saw her after my accident; convinced she was an angel -- and she is -- but now she’s mine. This time our combined family and friends who were in town for the ceremony, sit in the waiting room, worried for Angel.

  “Hey Marie,” she says when an older nurse comes through the curtain. “What’s up?” She asks and then the doctor that saw her when we came in is behind her.

  “I wanted to be here for the goods,” she says cryptically.

  “Fred?” Angel asks the older doctor, who smiles kindly at her.

  “I know why you’re sick and I know why you passed out,” he tells her.

  “Okay. Well, hit me with some Tamiflu and send me back to Texas,” she snaps.

  “You’re pregnant, Angie.” And there is a roaring in my ears. I couldn’t have heard him correctly. Thankfully, Angel asks him to repeat himself.

  “WHAT?!” She hollers.

  “Angie, you’re pregnant. Congratulations!”

  “Mable is going to be fit to be tied when she finds out I knew first!” Marie cackles. I throw my head back and laugh. Poor Angel looks shell-shocked. That is until she hears me laugh.

  “What are you laughing at?” She snaps.

  “We’ll just leave you alone for now while we go get the ultrasound machine. Be right back.”

  “You, this baby, everything. It’s everything I ever wanted,” I look at her. “And we’re getting married, like yesterday. I’ll fly us right to Vegas, or I’ll give you until September to throw a wedding together, which is plenty of time if you factor in Mable, my mother, and grandmothers. But that’s it. I won’t wait a day longer,” I smile at her.

  “You’re ok with this?” She asks me.

  “Of course,” I tell her. “You want a boy or a girl?” I ask.

  “I’m happy either way,” she says softly. As the nurse and doctor wheel in this funny looking computer and plug it in.

  The doctor starts tapping away at the keys and a weird yellow wave appears on the screen. This must be what we were waiting for. Then the doctor puts a giant stick in some interesting places and before I can comment, the most beautiful sound in the world surrounds us. It’s strong and rapid like drums in a marching band.

  “Strong heartbeat,” the doctor says.

  “That’s the heartbeat?” I ask, staring at the screen. The doctor punches some more keys and something flutters over the screen. And then I see it. It’s a baby. It’s my baby. “Holy shit,” I say, Angel’s hand clutched in mine.

  “That’s our baby,” she says softly.

  “That’s our everything,” I say before leaning over her to brush the hair off her face. Planting a grateful kiss on her temple. Angel and the baby, that’s my everything.

  You Should Be Here

  Aliza

  My Dearest Sam,

  Today, I’m standing on the most beautiful beach. Remember how we said we’d take a second honeymoon down to the Keys some day? Well, I’m here, baby. But I can’t help thinking you should be here. I can’t help wondering why you left me? Why did you take the girls with you? How could you leave me behind, Sam? How can I possibly go on now? But these aren’t questions for today.

  Today is Angie and Cody’s wedding. You were right, baby, they figured it out. So here we are on the beach. I’m wearing a lovely, short silk dress that blows in the breeze. Holt said it’s the perfect color gray to make my eyes pop. He calls them my wild Irish eyes. Says they’re so green that I must have been blessed by the fairies as a babe. Holt says a lot of things like that. I don’t know how to feel about that, Sam. He makes me feel beautiful and special. And I love it. But he also makes me feel like I’m cheating. Like I broke my vows to you, Sam. Or I’m about to. I wish you were here to tell me what to do. You always gave the best advice. Maybe send me a sign?

  Did you know, he walked me down the aisle? Holt did. He is one of Cody’s groomsmen, I’m a bridesmaid. He walked me slowly, like he was born to do it with my arm in his and my bouquet in my other hand. At the end, when we reached the alter made of willow and driftwood, he leaned down and kissed the top of my head. It was so sweet. So in the moment.

  Now I’m standing here watching Angel and Cody exchange their vows. They wrote their own. Remember ours? You pledged to be my protector and champion and to put the toilet seat down for all times. And I? I promised to love you and be your home no matter where the Marine Corps sent us and to never complain about how bad your PT gear smelled because smelly PT gear is a blessing, it means you came home to me. I still can’t believe after all those missions, all the hush hush super secret squirrel crap in God forsaken places, it was a stupid soccer game you didn’t come home from. I’m still a little angry, Sam. At you. At God. At everyone who gets to go on living their life while I’m stuck in limbo waiting.

  I made it through their vows, babe. Just one little tear burned down my cheek. I couldn’t hold it back. But I did it with a smile on my face. I know it’s not quite real, but I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard today, Sam. Holt saw it. He looks sad when he looks at me. It hurts me to know I’m making him sad, but I don’t know how to stop. My hurt is so much greater. My emotions so much more conflicted.

  There they are now, man and wife. Such a beautiful place to be.

  With the ceremony complete, Cody and Angel seal their vows with a kiss. A very hot kiss. You would have whooped louder than anyone at their display. Laughing. I can almost feel your arms around me. I look up and catch Holt’s eye. He looks angry. No. Determined. Holt looks determined about something. And he’s looking at me. I feel a sizzle in my belly and wariness in my chest. What do you think your dear friend is up to, my love? Just send me a sign, baby. Tell me what to do. Please. Until then, I’ll be here waiting. Until we meet again.

  All my love, until my last breath,

  Aliza

  The End….For Now

  My House – Flo Rida

  Mayday – Cam

  Crazy Sexy Beautiful – Old Dominion

  T-Shirt – Thomas Rhett

  Til It’s Over – Old Dominion

  Stand – Rascal Flatts

  Hall of Fame - the Script ft. will.i.am

  You Should Be Here – Cole Swindell

  If you enjoyed this story, and I sincerely hope you did, I am going to let you in on a little secret. My grandfather was an amazing man. He was brilliant, had a dry sense of humor that was funny in itself, and was so full of love and laughter everyone around him felt it. My grandfather also had the soul of a storyteller. In fact he wrote a book. But before his novel had made it through the editing stages, he was living with a new reality. One that he did not choose but was chosen for him. For years, we watched him struggle with the effects of the disease. Alzheimer’s took my brilliant, sweet grandfather from us long before the disease claimed his body from this earth. And to this day, his book is still unpublished.

  You might ask yourself, why would I share this with you? And the answer is easy. In real life, I am shy. I never thought I would put any of my stories out there for anyone other than myself or my husband to see. Until last year, when my grandfather passed, and I thought about his unfulfilled dream. And through it, I realized a dream of my own and also, maybe, a little piece of his storyteller’s soul in me. So while these are my words, not his, the publishing of this piece and the others that will follow are that realization. So, this is for you, for me, but mostly for my grandpa. Thank you for helping us achieve that dream.

  Also, if you or someone you love is living with Alzheimer�
��s disease, know that you’re not alone. My family and I pray that one day there will be a cure. But until then, you are in our thoughts and hearts. And if this disease has not played a direct part in your life, but our story has and you feel moved, you can find ways to donate, walk, or volunteer at www.alz.org.

  XOXO,

  Jennifer

  Jennifer is a 32 year old lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.

  Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also a member of Alpha Xi Delta.

  10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 7 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.

  This is her debut novel.

  You can connect with Jennifer at:

  JenniferRebeccaAuthor.com

  E-mail: JenniferRebeccaAuthor@gmail.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/JenniferRebeccaAuthor

  Twitter: @JenniRLreads

  Instagram: JenniRLreads

  The Southern Heartbeats Series

  Stand, Vol 1