by J. J. Bella
My first training session involved a couple of teenagers who were bright-eyed and still looking very fresh, with emotions ranging from excitement to nerves. There was a particular boy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else, his sullen expression indicating that he was going to be trouble before we even began. But I was used to trouble and kids like this one, who were probably forced into this situation more than most. Said kids eventually found out that this job, no matter how high-paying or “cool” they thought it was, took determination and hard work, and they couldn’t make it to the top by lazing it through.
I’d already reviewed the charts sent to me by the exam reviewer, which gave details of this group’s health stats and personality analysis. I used that now to start them off with introductions, then asked them what they wanted to get out of this and if this was the career they really wanted. Everyone answered yes as expected, but I planned to ask them the same question after a week or two.
They started off with light exercises to get their muscles moving, which lasted for about an hour. Then, I began to push them harder and harder. I wasn’t the type to yell at my students like most did, but I was pretty strict when it came to finishing tasks. The hours melted away with me giving them only a few minutes break in between, including lunch. Then it was back to exercises, pushing them to the limit to see whether they would bend or break. I remembered how sadistic my old instructor had been when I was a teenager, zoning in on me particularly because of my age, but I had been so determined that no one could stop me. I couldn’t even remember what made me sign up, though it probably had some of my foster father’s influence, as he was a retired Navy himself. He always regaled me stories of his times of service, and I thought him one of the bravest people I knew. Perhaps his stories touched something in me and made me want to become a better person.
Evelyn certainly enjoyed the benefits, which included the money, right until she became miserable with it.
Would Rachel grow miserable with it, too?
My instincts told me no, but I was older and wiser now. If anything happened in the future, I just needed to make sure Isla wasn’t devastated. However, I vowed that I would do my best to make it right for Rachel, because she deserved that and so much more.
The thought of Rachel suddenly had me missing her for some reason. I may have gotten used to her presence already and the joy she brought to my daughter’s life. By the time that day’s training session was done, I found myself rushing home for two different reasons now, and being more relaxed as we shared the roles of household chores and taking care of Isla. I didn’t mind doing chores, but Rachel insisted on doing her share, and she seemed to have a knack for organizing things and making every room look brighter with little touches. It made me realize just how bland the house had been and how she changed everything with her presence in just a short span of a few weeks.
The next day, the set of gruelling exercises resumed. I started off with a group of twenty, which slowly dwindled day by day as some couldn’t take the pressure. Not to my surprise, the sullen guy, whose name was Aaron, was still here, which proved his determination was stronger than whatever his initial dislike had been. On the first week, I congratulated them and told them that things would either get harder or better based on their perspective, and their mindset was going to be their best friend during the next few weeks. Then I dismissed them to lunch and told them to play basketball or find something recreational to do before they started again on the next set of exercises next week.
I was hungry by the time I reached the cafeteria, and I chose a full plate of carbohydrates and protein, then topped it off with a slice of chocolate cake. Michael was beside me, still contemplating his choices. I was just about to sit on a table when I happened to glance at the open glass window, which was directly facing the base’s parking lot.
I froze when I saw my ex-wife’s car pulling in and looking for a space to park in.
I kept watching as she finally found her spot, got out and walked towards the front entrance with her signature high heels and sunglasses. I must have muttered something, because Michael suddenly whistled beside me.
“Well, well. Isn’t this quite a development?”
“Shit,” was all I murmured. Then I was sliding my tray over to him. “Don’t order. Eat this. This is going to take awhile.”
“I’d say good luck, but I think you might need more than that.”
I shot him a look as I walked off, and I heard his chuckle trailing behind me. A few minutes later, I met Evelyn at the lobby, where she was sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and looking around with hardly any expression on her face. Her gaze zoned in on me when I walked towards her.
“Hello, Peter,” she murmured, eyeing my cargo pants and tight white shirt. There might have been a gleam of appreciation there, but frankly, I didn’t care.
“Hello, Evelyn,” I replied, calmly.
“Is there anywhere private we could talk?” she asked.
I told her there was, and we were walking towards the base café in no time. It was a pretty fancy place and mostly used for visitors, and we got a table and ordered two cups, which were left untouched as we faced each other. I waited for her to speak up, killing time by taking a sip of the Americano I ordered. I usually didn’t depend on coffee, but it was nice to drink every once in a while.
Finally, Evelyn spoke.
“I want to talk to you about your upcoming marriage.”
Ah. The dreaded talk. I didn’t respond, merely looking at her and waiting for her to go on. This was something I learned from being a soldier, so as not to give anything to the enemies whenever we were in hostile territory, got in trouble and had to be interrogated. I used it enough on Evelyn when we fought before and she was being unreasonable, or when I just got tired of her bullshit. She seemed to remember it very well, too, if I was to base it on the way her lips pursed and her brows furrowed. But they cleared well enough after a few seconds, and she tried to appear more pleasant as she leaned over.
“As I understand, she’s been your nanny for only a few weeks. Is that wrong?”
“No. That’s right.”
“Right,” she murmured. Her lips pursed again, as if she was trying to find the right words to say. “So that means you’ve only known her for those few weeks.”
I realized where she was getting with this, but again, I remained silent and waited until she prodded. She seemed better at handling her frustration with it now—although, maybe she was just trying to be extra nice today.
“Don’t you think marrying her right away is too hasty? I mean, you barely know her. Why are you rushing into this? Is it because of me threatening to get full custody of Isla?”
I didn’t like that she got to that conclusion right away. But then again, Evelyn wasn’t stupid. In fact, I found her very smart and cunning back then, and it was one of the things I admired about her…until she starting to use her cunning against me. I didn’t respond right away, which gave her room to keep talking.
“You know we can always talk about it,” she encouraged. “It’s true I don’t like your job, but I’m still willing to compromise. So what if I get full custody of Isla? You can always visit her.”
This time, I was the one leaning forward and staring her in the eye. “But I don’t want to just visit Isla. I want her to live with me.” I paused. “With me and Rachel.”
Some of the niceties eased out of her expression, giving way to the displeasure under. Ah, there was the real Evelyn.
“It makes me highly suspicious, and I don’t like it. I don’t even know her, and I don’t know how she’s going to treat my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” I reminded her. “Isla adores her, and she adores Isla. And I can say I’m a good judge of character.”
“Peter,” she snapped, then stopped herself. She eyed me with distrust. “Tell me the truth, please. Why are you marrying her? Why are you rushing into this?”
I didn’t answer right away, trying to
find words that wouldn’t trigger her or make her come after me like this with questions all over again. In the end, I only spoke out what I could without giving too much away.
“I love Rachel. It’s that simple. I love her more than you could ever understand, and I want to marry her because of it. I want her to be my wife, and I want her to be part of my family now.”
As I spoke those words out, it was as if some kind of cloud parted. My mind cleared, and so did something in my heart as I realized what I’d been blind to all this time.
I was telling the truth.
I did care for Rachel—much more than I expected to and much more than I was willing to admit in the beginning. I had deep feelings for her, and I genuinely wanted her to be happy—happy with me.
As if she realized it at the same time, Evelyn straightened, genuine shock on her face. We looked at each other for a long time before finally breaking our gazes off. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat, crossing her arms. I watched her, my mind still reeling from my own thoughts.
Finally, Evelyn sighed and stood up. “Just make sure she doesn’t hurt my daugh—our daughter in any way.”
I nodded my head. Evelyn walked away without saying goodbye, and I knew she was going to keep doubting Rachel even if she was appeased for now. That was okay. I would do my best to protect Rachel from that kind of hostility.
As my ex-wife’s tapping heels disappeared from the café completely, I took another sip of my coffee. Then I stood up too and grabbed the other one, figuring someone else might want it. A smile slid on my face at the thought of going home later and seeing Rachel after what I discovered today.
Whatever happened, I was going to do my best to keep her happy.
Rachel
Everyone said your wedding day was supposed to be the most relaxing day of your life, but tell that to the nerves swimming in my stomach and threatening to make me break down any minute now.
But there was no denying that coupled with the nerves was a growing anticipation for this. The wedding day. My wedding day, aka the day I was going to tie the knot with one very special man. It was the kind of anticipation that was sweet and steady, growing between us as time passed and we grew closer planning it out.
I clung on to this anticipation as I woke up on that day, which didn’t start out good, particularly with the splitting headache I experienced. It was partly my fault, really, because I was too busy tossing and turning in bed and thinking about what was coming to really get enough sleep in. But I weathered through it and slid out of bed quickly, stumbling to the bathroom to get some aspirin and a long, thorough shower. By the time I got out, my mother was already knocking on my door and bringing in a tray filled with the makings of a heavy Southern breakfast.
“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” I warned her as I sat back on the edge of the bed.
“Good morning to you, too,” she greeted with a smile on her face. Over the days, as Peter kept visiting, she began to soften up towards him and now really liked him and approved of the union. That was one less thing to worry about. “You need to eat because it’s going to be a long day, and you need to keep your strength up. No arguments.”
The scent of the food wafted up my nostrils, and whatever protest I had, died off instantly. I grinned at her and gave her a hug, then settled on the bed again and started eating the food slowly. Mom talked about how my brother was going to be in town in less than an hour and how my nieces and nephews were excited to see me.
“And Sara just got in late last night,” she said. “She already settled Gary and the kids in the hotel at Little Stone, but she said she’ll be here right after their breakfast—”
“I’m already here,” a voice announced from the doorway. I looked up and found none other than Sara herself, holding her arms out in the air and grinning from ear to ear. She’d always been the bubbly one in our family, and excitement surged in me at the sight of her. I set the tray to the side and got out of bed, watching as she hugged mom. Then we hugged each other, and I smelled the kids’ powder scent from her and started giggling like mad.
“Wow, she’s nervous,” Sara commented, easing me away and eyeing me critically. “And she looks nervous. But absolutely blooming. Doesn’t she look blooming, mom?”
“She sure does,” Mom agreed.
I laughed again and went down with them to the kitchen, where I found the island already filled with baked goods. My mom baked when she was excited, so that showed her feelings exactly. After a while, my dad was there, and I was pretty happy and content to be with my whole family again, just like old times.
Then my brother Jay was there, and the house just got louder than ever. He began demanding to see Peter right away for some “manly” talk, but mom and Sara just distracted him so that we could get ready. Before we knew it, we were riding over to Little Stone, bringing all that we needed and settling in to the same hotel that Sara’s husband and kids were in. It was only a block away from the church, and a few blocks away from Peter’s house, which made it the perfect location.
Isla and her aunts were already there by the time we checked in, along with the wedding coordinator and her team. Everyone got acquainted before they all settled me in a chair and got me in a robe. Then hair and makeup began, with the bridesmaids and flower girls going first. While watching, I was given a gentle massage and tea, and bit by bit the nerves eased out of me as I started to enjoy the ritual. Isla was bouncing and unable to keep still as she met my nieces and nephews and chatted with them, and I could already tell that they were going to get along. My parents already met Isla when Peter brought her to their house once, and as expected, they’d been charmed by her and now already treated her like family. My dad, in particular, liked to talk about his days running around and playing ball when he was a kid, as well as fishing. I could see the way Isla’s blue eyes lit up whenever fishing was mentioned, and I had to hide my smile as I realized she was developing yet another interest.
By the time her hair was done, Isla was insisting to call my dad grandpa, and my dad didn’t seem to mind at all.
Then it was my turn, and I specified that I wanted to keep it light. The makeup artist was kind and cheerful, and she cajoled me to relax and stop thinking too much. I followed her advice and closed my eyes, lulled by the sound of the hair blower running and the clutter of makeup on the counter beside my chair. My sister was humming something pleasant beside me while getting herself ready, and I could hear Isla’s and my dad’s distant chatter before Isla was ushered to get dressed, too.
When my makeup and hair were done, I was told not to look in the mirror yet but to get dressed right away. Everyone surrounded me in a flurry and began to help me out, but Sara shooed them off and firmly told them it was her task as matron of honor to help me with the dress. I stifled a laugh, knowing she just wanted first dibs on how I looked. I didn’t care, though.
Soon, I found myself on heels and in the dress that Isla and I fitted just a week ago. It had been pretty loose when we fitted it, which meant I lost some weight in the wedding planning process. Now it fit me perfectly, and I looked down admiringly at the details of the ivory-colored gown. Crystal beads winked subtly up at me. I smoothed the dress down, suddenly nervous all over again.
What if it looked bad? What if it looked worse than last week?
What if Peter didn’t like it?
“How do I look?” I asked Sara, who was frowning while arranging the neckline.
“Hold up,” she said, concentrating on her task. When she was finally done, she took a step back and eyed me from head to toe. Sara was always critical when it came to fashion, and when we were younger, she was always blunt when she hated something I wore or when she thought something suited me better.
She smiled—a brilliant, proud smile as she placed her hands over her mouth.
“You look absolutely radiant,” she gushed. “Mom! Mom, come look.”
The door that Sara closed earlier opened, and my mom and Isla rushe
d in again. Mom’s eyes widened and so did Isla’s. Then they both began talking all at once, and Isla hobbled over to the bed and began to eye me in amazement.
“You look like a fairy tale princess!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait for you to be my mom so I can be a princess, too!”
“You look beautiful, my dear,” my mom said, tears glistening in her eyes. Sara noticed it right off and scolded her not to ruin her makeup, then helped her out with some tissues.
Now curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped to the area where there was a full-length mirror, wanting to see myself. If they thought it looked good, then it must be good, right? Reaching the mirror, I stepped forward quickly.
I gasped at what I saw.
The dress fit me perfectly this time—a mixture of white lace and crystals, one that started off my shoulder and fit me to the waist, then flowed into a long skirt to cover my legs. White lace covered my arms like dainty sleeves, and the train at the back of my skirt flowed long.
I did look like a princess.
My hair and makeup were just as perfect for me. My hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon-type braid, curly tendrils tamed. The makeup and hair artist put in little crystal beads that made it twinkle subtly whenever I moved my head. My makeup was light, touches of gold and pink that was barely there. All I knew was that my face looked glowing.
I was glowing.
I had been wary at first when the wedding planner showed me the gown she had in mind, because I’d wanted to just wear a plain white dress and be done with it. The one she’d chosen was classy and elegant without looking extravagant, and I realized now that the look fit me well. My heels made me look slightly taller than I was, and the overall effect was just…magic.
I was in awe and wanted to admire the details of what I was wearing all day—but it was time to leave. When everything was done, Sara ushered me to the bridal car, where she accompanied me and held my hand. She tried to keep a steady conversation going, but I was so distracted that I could barely answer. But she pushed on, squeezing my hand from time to time and telling me that everything was going to be alright and not to worry. I nodded my head and squeezed her hand back, grateful that I’d chosen her to be the first person at my side.
