Freedom

by Faith Potts

  “Bird seed,” he mocks.

  Brian drops his bowl in the sink and starts toward the door. “Sorry to run off but I’ve got to go into work. Alex and James, good luck. Lester, you may need to stay here and chaperone these two.” He ducks out of the door while everyone laughs, and James rolls his eyes.

  “Sorry, man. No can do.” Lester wheels around the table, smiling shyly. “I’ve got a date today.”

  I grin at the adorable smile on the guy’s face. “Hope is a sweetheart, Lester.”

  He nods and rolls on toward the door. “She is. I’m a lucky fellow.”

  Speaking of lucky… I smile at the guy to my right. What will it be like to eat breakfast with him every morning?

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  The foot race begins at nine o’clock, since the organizers are trying to avoid the heat of the day. James and I arrive nearly an hour early to prepare. After signing up at the admissions table, we get our numbers and tape the laminated papers to each other’s backs.

  When the race starts, we’re in the first half of participants, since some only want to walk the race course. We push on through most of it without giving it a whole lot of thought. Some people laugh and move to the sides of the path to give us more room when James comes up with silly challenges, like who can get to the next percentage marker first or who can run the farthest in thirty seconds.

  With the sun nearly directly above us, I groan as we start up a slight incline. “I’m pretty sure we’ve already run five miles. I thought a kilometer was less than a mile?”

  “Aww, don’t quit on me now.” James grins and pushes on ahead of me.

  I laugh—a bad choice of usage for the bit of air I’ve got left. “Who said I was quitting?” With a burst of energy, I catch up and fall in stride next to him. “I still plan to cross the finish line, even if I’m riding piggyback on you.”

  “Ha! That’s a good one.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  There’s a patch of quiet, broken only by our heavy breathing and thudding footfalls. Then he speaks. “I’d drop you.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. “No, you wouldn’t.” I look his way, force him to make eye contact with me. “You wouldn’t, James.”

  We plateau out on top of what I think—and hope—is the last incline of the course before James glances my way again.

  He smiles and points up ahead of us. “I think we’d better quit talking and start running. The finish line is in sight.”

  Oh my goodness, he’s right. A printed #22aday banner is stretched above the stripe of spray paint on the ground that serves as a finish line. Crowds of people gathered in camp chairs and on picnic blankets on either side stand to cheer when we come into sight.

  As we draw nearer, I sneak a glance at James. He seems to be holding up pretty well physically. And that grin…the knowledge of what he’s almost accomplished… Gratitude swells up in my heart for this amazing man I’m so blessed to call mine. He’s going to be just fine.

  With a final burst of energy, we push ahead and cross the marked line. The crowds of people gathering around the finish line applaud and call out as we slow to a stop. I lean my hands on my knees and pant until I can stand up without my chest heaving pathetically.

  James paces back and forth next to me, his prosthesis clicking against the ground. “What are all these people whooping about?” he asks, still wheezing heavily.

  My guess is that they’re yelling and applauding for him, but my lungs are still screaming for oxygen and daring me to utter a single word.

  A voice cuts through the air, above the shouts of congratulations from the crowd. “Looks like we have a winner, folks!”

  The words startle me into an upright position. Wait…what?

  A staticky laugh follows the coordinator’s words. “Stop looking so surprised, you two. Who else would I be talking about?”

  “We won?” James’s voice finds my ears above the roar of the crowd. He turns toward me and repeats it, eyes wide. “Lex, we won!”

  Caught somewhere between laughing and crying, I launch myself forward and into his embrace. The split second my feet leave the ground, I realize what a mistake this could have been. If I knock him over, he’ll blame himself. No sooner than I’ve thought it, his arm closes around my waist and holds me close, my feet dangling inches above the ground.

  My heart jumps to my throat. No, not because I’m afraid he’ll drop me. But because of the joy in his face, the warmth of his love, and the confidence spilling from him. He’s steady, he’s capable…and he knows it. Thank You, Lord.

  I tighten my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, not caring who sees. “I’m so proud of you, Semper Fi.”

  To James’s left, the man with the megaphone is working his way through the crowd. James sets me down on my feet and keeps his arm around my waist.

  “Congratulations to our winning pair!” The man has a grin like a cheesy teenager. “And you are, sir?”

  James removes his arm from behind me to shake the man’s hand. “Corporal James Greene.”

  I must be fairly beaming with pride.

  “Ahh, yes. Thank you for your service, sir.” The man pumps James’s hand a second time to emphasize his point. “So we have Corporal James Greene and his girlfriend…?”

  The man stirs the microphone in our faces, waiting for a name.

  “Alex Lorance, my fiancée.” James responds before I have the chance to correct the man.

  “Fiancée? Well, congratulations on two counts, then!”

  The interview continues, and then the camera rolls out and we learn that the local news station is covering the race as well. They ask us a round of questions, all of which I attempt to answer when rarely prompted, but mostly let James do the talking. When asked why he wanted to participant in a race for suicide awareness, he tells a quick version of his battles with suicidal thoughts and motives, ending with the reminder that he was ultimately set free from those bonds through Christ. My heart swells with love for this man.

  Once pictures have been taken and microphones removed from our noses, we’re free to go. We grab second water bottles from provided coolers and take our leave.

  James grabs me by the hand as we start across the grassy field—reserved for parking—toward his Jeep. “Lex?”

  “Yeah?” I tilt my head against his arm.

  Without warning, he stops, halting my steps as well.

  “James, what—”

  Smirking deviously, he turns to face me, wraps his arm around my waist, and leans in to kiss me. The kiss is happening and over before my startled mind has time to catch up.

  James draws back, still wearing that smirk, and peers down at me. “I’ve been wanting to do that all morning.”

  I laugh, unable to define this beautiful, beautiful joy. “I love you.”

  “Are you free the rest of this weekend?” James asks as we continue across the field, my mind still a whirlwind.

  “Yep. What have you got in mind?”

  He stops walking and turns to face me, eyes meeting mine. “How’d you like to have lunch with me Sunday? At the house of a special middle-aged lady who wants to meet you?”

  I grin, squeezing his hand tighter when I feel him playing with the engagement ring on my finger. “I think that’s an appointment I could probably make.”

  Once we’re settled in the Jeep, with the semi-decent A/C going full blast, James calls his mom to let her know of the change in plans.

  “Hello, James! How did the 5k go?”

  He snickers at her bubbliness, a dimple cutting into his cheek. “It went great. Actually, why don’t you check out the Capeton City News website? CCN should have something up on how they covered the 5k, and you might recognize one of the winners.”

  “Oh my goodness, James, are you serious?” she exclaims, long before she would have been able to pull up the site.

  “Yes, I’m serious. You really should check it out.”

  “Oh, stop it!” I can nearly
see her smirk—and I haven’t even met the woman.

  James laughs and I try to contain my giggles, not knowing how Mrs. Greene would react to knowing I’m eavesdropping on this conversation. “But seriously, check it out. There should be some pictures of the two of us, and maybe even a video clip or two.”

  “I’m doing that, right now.”

  “Also,” he winks at me, “is the invitation to lunch tomorrow still open?”

  “Oh, of course!”

  “Well, Alex and I would like to come after all, if that would be okay.”

  “That would be wonderful, son. We can’t wait to meet her. She must be an absolute darling if you’re this crazy about her.”

  “She is. Oh, and by the way.” He pauses and grins in my direction. “She goes by my fiancée now.”

  Epilogue || James

  Three years later…

  I awake with a start.

  Smoke. Dust. Blood. Screams.

  No. I coerce my heart back into rhythm. Just the baby crying.

  Pulling myself to a sitting position, I glance to my right where Alex still lies sleeping peacefully. I hate to wake her—as I usually do if I’m the first to wake from Adelene’s cries.

  I look across the room to where our three-month-old baby girl is waving one fisted hand in the air as she disgruntledly fusses. Surely I can tend to her on my own… If worse comes to worse, I can always awaken Alex at that time.

  Reaching out my arm, I roll my wheelchair up to the side of the bed. In a matter of seconds, I am seated without having made enough noise to wake my wife. Rolling the right wheel and then the left, I maneuver the chair over to the crib where Adelene is growing louder with every second no one comes for her.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, sweet girl,” I soothe. I quickly undo the latches to remove the side of the crib—which is the perfect height for my chair to fit next to—and set it aside.

  A smile graces my face as I reach in and slide my arm around the baby, gently drawing her to myself. I lift her to my chest and she quiets with my nearness. Kissing her soft baby head, I lay my swaddled daughter in my lap after holding her for several precious moments.

  After checking her diaper and finding it dry and knowing she isn’t due for a feeding for another hour yet, I smile down at the sweet bundle of joy. “Maybe you just needed some daddy time, huh?”

  Adelene raises her fist and gurgles; I smile and stroke her cheek. “I’ll just take you back to bed with us, sweet pea.”

  After wheeling back to bed with Adelene in my lap, I bite my lip and debate on how would be best—and safest—to get both of us back to the land of sweet dreams.

  “Can I hold her for you?”

  I start at the voice. Glancing up, I find Alex gazing back at me, the moonlight from the window glinting off the tears that shimmer in her eyes. She’s so beautiful.

  “Thank you.” I lift the precious child to my chest and wait for my wife to scoot to the edge of the bed. Clutching my baby girl against me, I lean forward and gently relinquish the child to her mother’s arms.

  Alex scoots back across the bed, out of my way. I haul myself back into the bed and scoot closer, until I can wrap my arm around my wife. She snuggles against me, nestling Adelene between us.

  “I love you more than I know how to say, James. You’re so good to us.”

  Aside from the love part, I don’t know how right she is, but I do my best. I may not be the best or most capable father and husband, but we’re doing all right. I make enough money to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. So long as there’s breath in me, neither of my girls will want for anything. Ever.

  I smile and lean down to kiss Alex there in the darkness. The darkness that no longer holds fear and pain for me, but love and hope and dreams of the future.

  Liberty’s Battlegrounds • Book Two

  A soldier, unsure of his destiny. A young mother, burdened by mistakes. It seems that God brought them together. But will ghosts of the past succeed in tearing them apart?

  coming soon…

  Author’s Note

  Suicide.

  One of those taboo topics that we don’t want to touch. It makes us uncomfortable, so we avoid it. Because it’s too dirty. Too harsh. Too dark. But very, very real.

  Why shouldn’t we be uncomfortable with an epidemic that’s stealing tens of thousands of lives a year? Our discomfort with this horror should prompt us to action.

  A few years ago, when I begin playing with the idea of a story centered around a suicidal veteran, I had no idea what I was getting into. While researching, I discovered that an average of twenty-two veterans take their own lives each day in the US. Men and women who’ve sacrificed in service to our country—gone. Just like that.

  If, like me, you’re burdened at the thought of anyone taking their own life, then I want to encourage you to do something about it. Share a hug. Give a smile. Listen when someone needs to talk. Remind the people in your life that you care about them. Be there for someone who needs it. And don’t always believe the “it’s fines” and “I’m okays”. The weariest soldiers wear the bravest masks.

  Let’s start a revolution. Let’s rebel against darkness. Let’s spread HOPE.

  Acknowledgements

  To Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord. Thank You for placing this story in my heart and for giving me the strength to not shy away from the tough topics.

  To my besties—thank you for listening to my rambles about this book for nearly four years and for putting up with my Marine obsession.

  To my tour buddy—goodness knows, you’ve put much more work into the release of this book and yours than I have. Love you, sis.

  To my alpha-readers, beta readers, and editor—thank you all for reading this book at its worst and convincing me it was something special.

  To my cover designer and formatter—thank y’all for not hating me when I nitpicked and for working over my book until the designing was beyond perfect.

  To whoever’s reading this—thank you for taking the time to pick up my book and giving me the chance to tell you a story of hope.

  About the Author

  Saved by God's grace, Faith Potts is a teenage writer and homeschool graduate, living with her family and beloved yellow labs in the North Carolina mountains. When she’s not weaving stories, consuming large amounts of coffee, reading stacks of books, or studying American Sign Language, she can be found laughing harder than is healthy, daydreaming, and—of course— blowing dandelions.

  Connect with Faith through her website: faithpottsauthor.weebly.com