This isn’t the type of place Cap talked about when he’d fill the quiet nights with his plans after retirement. Rolling hills, a place to fish, and neighbors far enough away you could go days without seeing them. Those were his requirements for life after the military. Truthfully, I never expected him to retire. I figured he’d spend his senior years barking orders at the newest recruits and enjoying every minute of it.
I pull into his driveway, parking behind a large truck. The grass is cut with precision, and the front porch is adorned by a single hanging basket of flowers. Somehow, I doubt these flowers are Grant’s doing. Laughing to myself, I kill the engine and sit for a few minutes, gathering my thoughts. It’s important to be strong for Scarlett. That I’m here for her like Henry would want. Like I always promised him I’d be.
Chapter 4
Scarlett
To say the last few days have been a blur would be an understatement. My heart is broken. Shattered into a million jagged shards over my kitchen floor, in the spot I stood when I heard the words that would forever change my life. My husband, the father of my unborn child, is gone. Dead.
Thinking the word “dead” makes my stomach flip, and a shiver skirts my spine. This wasn’t supposed to happen to us. Henry was going to see this final deployment through and seek the help he needed to be here for our son. To be the best father possible, even if we were no longer together.
Losing him is awful, a part of me is missing, but it isn’t only the loss that hurts. Keeping the secret of our failed marriage from everyone in our life hurts as much, if not more. I understand his reasoning and, knowing the decision to end our marriage was mine, I owe him the respect of keeping that information to myself.
Henry was so worried about appearances. What people would think of him. He believed people would look at him like he had abandoned his pregnant wife and he was less of a man because he couldn’t make his marriage work.
As I watch Grant thumb through his mail, I know in my heart there would have been no judgment. Our friends, especially the three men who loved Henry the most—Grant, Connor, and Taylor—would have supported our decision.
“You hungry?” Grant asks as he tosses the mail on the table. Standing before me with his hands on his hips, I giggle a little at his stance. It’s so rigid and official. Intimidating.
“Relax there, soldier.”
Cocking his head, he scrunches his brows like he doesn’t understand the words I’ve spoken, triggering a string of giggles. Laughing feels good in this moment. It feels like all I’ve done is cry or sleep for days.
“Shut it. Food?”
“Nah. I could go for some ice cream, though.” I don’t realize what I’ve said until I see the sympathy on Grant’s face. Offering a small smile, he relaxes and simply nods before leaving me on his couch and making his way to the small kitchen.
My thoughts return to Henry and our marriage. The reality is, our marriage was over long before I found out I was pregnant. We were just too sad and so far into our own denial we couldn’t see it. Not long ago, we were trying to conceive a child, mistakenly assuming a child would fix the cracks in our marriage. It was a desperate attempt to heal what was so clearly broken.
Then Henry received news of his impending deployment, and instead of dreading the inevitable, we chose to share a bottle of wine and reminisce over the best years of our life together. Those memories led us to find solace in each other’s arms, a reminder of who we once were. Without protection. I knew within a few short weeks we had created a new life. An innocent child who would bond us together forever, in a way that our faltering marriage couldn’t.
Because we wouldn’t know when his deployment orders would come, I insisted on a blood test to confirm my pregnancy. The test confirmed what the home tests said: we were pregnant. When we were given the opportunity to know the sex at that time, I vetoed Henry’s wish to wait until the baby was born. I had an overwhelming need for him to know this child. To start building the special bond a father has with his son.
We were both excited at the prospect of having a son. We spent hours talking over all the things we’d do with our child, and in those moments, I vowed to do everything I could to save our marriage. To put my feelings and needs aside so our son would never know anything but how much his parents loved him and each other. Our love may have changed, but there was no doubt I still loved Henry even if I wasn’t necessarily in love with him.
Like he knows I’m thinking of him, the small waves I feel when he moves begin in my stomach. They’re light and at first freaked me out, but now I welcome them. Resting my hands on my stomach, I lean my head back, my feet propped on the table in front of the couch and close my eyes. These flutters center me and remind me of the amazing things yet to come.
And like they often do, my thoughts jump to Henry and the day I changed everything.
Seeing a small pea-sized blip on a little screen while his rapid heartbeat filled the tiny room, overwhelmed us both. I was filled with hope and happiness. Then I looked at my husband, tears falling freely from his eyes, and I knew. We had to put our own pride aside for our child. I needed to give him the life he deserves, and the life Henry never had. Telling Henry my thoughts was difficult and, until this week, the single most heartbreaking moment of my life. I wanted us to be the best parents possible to our baby. In order to do that, we couldn’t be together. We no longer brought the best out in one another, and our child deserves more than two parents settling. Going through the motions.
“Sugar just sent me a text. Should be here soon.”
Startled, I look at Grant standing before me, a large yellow bowl extended to me. Sitting up, I take the bowl from his hands and peer inside. Yes! Three flavors of ice cream. Taking the spoon resting in the bowl, I scoop a sampling of each flavor into my mouth and smile.
“Mankwhoo,” I mumble with my mouth full.
“I think that was thank you. You’re welcome.”
Grant leaves me alone, and I’m left with thoughts of Taylor arriving. Taylor Cain is the type of man women dream of meeting, one who is unattainable and almost fictitious. His eyes change like an old school mood ring, and I’ve seen many women over the years try to figure out what makes them change colors.
That’s something that has always bothered Henry about his childhood best friend. The way women flocked to Taylor. Wanting to know everything about him just from his looks. But they didn’t know the man beyond the mysterious eyes and brooding demeanor. His heart and selflessness oozes from every pore, making him the man he is. Taylor would give his life for his friends and family, and he almost did just that, for his country.
I never truly understood the competitiveness and underlying jealousy Henry felt toward Taylor. They’d known each other most of their lives and were as close as two people could be, but still, over the years, I saw a shift in their relationship. Anytime Taylor was around, Henry’s demeanor changed. Last year when we moved to Fayhill, the rift between them was obvious to everyone, especially me.
I have known Taylor as long as I’ve known Henry. When I didn’t know how to handle Henry’s moods or what to say after a deployment, I would turn to Taylor. The conversations were short, but he was always there for me. For us. Like he is now.
The loud rumbling of a motorcycle’s engine signals his arrival outside. Grant walks to the front door and opens it as two heavy footsteps sound on the front porch. With one more bite of my ice cream, I wipe my mouth and set the bowl on the table. Rising from the couch, I move toward where they’re standing, using hushed voices. When they hear me approach, Taylor offers a tiny smile. Sympathy is written all over his face, and I rush to him.
His body is warm against mine and offers nothing but comfort as he holds me. I absorb it all, selfishly holding on to him like a lifeline. Quickly my emotions overwhelm me, and I don’t stop them. A flood of everything I’ve held inside releases one tear at a time.
When my sobs slow to more of a hiccup, and I’ve sufficiently soaked his shirt,
I step away from Taylor and wipe my face with my hand. Normally, I’d fiddle with the ends of my long red hair, but since I’m on day three of dry shampoo, it’s sufficiently tied on top of my head in a messy bun. Without my security blanket, I awkwardly bite my bottom lip and whisper, “Sorry.”
“Scarlett, honey, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry. How are you holding up?” His hands grab onto my biceps, rubbing up and down. What a loaded question.
How am I holding up? How do I feel?
Numb. Confused. Sad. Hurt. Pissed off. Guilty.
Mostly, I’m consumed with guilt. For years I’ve prepared myself for Henry’s death, assuming it would come with him a world away, fighting for freedom. Never did I assume an argument would lead to his death. That’s the real story. We were fighting. I was exhausted, my hormones in hyper-drive and his patience thin.
“I don’t know why it’s so fucking hard, Henry. I’m just asking for a little respect. If you aren’t going to come home at night, please tell me. I was worried. I’m sick of you being so goddamn selfish.” My hands are gripped so tight into a fist my knuckles are white. In the past, when he’s pulled this kind of behavior, I’ve cried. I’ve begged him to tell me where he’s been and who he’s been with. As strange as it sounds, I know he’s not with another woman. Henry hasn’t broken that vow. He’s battling his demons and reliving his experiences overseas as he prepares for yet another battle. It’s also why I asked for a divorce. Why I need this to end, I can’t watch him self-destruct.
“That’s right, Scarlett. I’m the big fuck up. Why are you still living here with me if I’m such a loser? Why did you marry me? You knew what kind of piece of shit I was destined to be. I warned you, but you didn’t listen. You thought you knew best. I know who I am to the core, baby. I’m the loser whose parents chose the bottle over him. I’m the guy who busts his ass just to get by and it’s still not enough.” His eyes fill with tears and I hate myself for pushing him. He’s vulnerable, I know that. Thankfully he hasn’t been drinking. He’s argumentative and self-loathing on a good day, but with alcohol, it’s a completely different level. Regardless, there’s always the possibility he’ll say something, something I’ll never forget and something he’ll never be able to take back.
Stepping toward him, I reach my hand out, but he cringes, pulling away from my reach. “I’m sorry, Henry. Please don’t put yourself down. You are not a loser, you are an amazing man. But you have to see what this does to me. I love you, no matter if we’re married or not. I worry about you. You’re going to be a father, I need to know you’ll always put our son first.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Everyone has a trigger, and I’ve learned over the last few weeks that questioning the type of parent he’ll be is Henry’s. His expression goes from one of anguish, to hurt, and finally anger. Grabbing his keys, he turns toward the back door and I shout his name as the screen door slams.
“Scarlett? Are you okay?” Taylor’s voice pulls me from the memory, one that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I know a drunk driver is responsible for the accident, but Henry was still angry and hurt. Because of me. He was on the interstate, making his way back into town. I told everyone he was going to get me ice cream and probably needed to clear his head first. The reality is, there was no reason for him to be outside of town. There was no reason for him to be on that stretch of road. If only I hadn’t angered him, he wouldn’t have left upset. He would still be alive.
“What? Oh, umm . . . it’s all just a lot.” Understatement of the year.
The sympathetic look Taylor gives me, makes me smile. He’s such a good guy, and although he’ll never know how much, Henry loved him. His behavior the last few years would lead some to question his love, but it’s true. These men were brothers in the truest form, and as much as they loved one another, they were also each other’s worst enemy at times.
“I should get out of here. Go home and start returning calls. I can’t hide out here forever. Thanks again, Grant. I appreciate you letting me hold up here with my ice cream and never-ending sobfest,” I say, walking to the coat rack by the door to grab my purse. When I slide it over my body, it skims over my baby bump as I pull it to the side. Bump. It’s there but if I wear loose enough clothes nobody can really tell. I am waiting for the day I wake up and it’s tripled in size. Now, my boobs are a different story. These things are a little out of control and the strap of my bag settles right in the cleavage only giving emphasis to their enormity.
I turn back to the guys, both standing with their arms crossed over their chests, looks of concern written all over their faces. I wonder if anyone in my life will look at me any other way. Doubtful. I can hear it all now. “Poor Scarlett, raising that baby on her own. No man will ever want to take on such a burden.” The whispers and sympathetic head nods have already begun and are sure to only get worse as I approach my due date.
“Oh, stop. I’ll be fine. I’m sad and hormonal. Pregnancy does funny things to your emotions. I need to get home, I’m sure there’s a list of things for me to do. I think someone emailed me something. Maybe I imagined that. I feel like I’ve been dreaming so I could have easily made that up.” By the time I stop rambling long enough to take a deep breath, Taylor is walking toward me, his hands lifting up and pulling me into him again. He runs his hand across my back; the motion is soothing.
“Scarlett, why don’t you let us handle this stuff? Addy will be here tomorrow, and you know her. She can’t help but take over and control things. My sister is nothing if not organized and ready to dictate orders.”
Laughing, the first real laugh in days, I step back from his embrace and smile. “Maybe I’ll just go home and take a bath. I don’t know if –”
“Why don’t I come with you? You shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ll follow you to your house, and while you do whatever you need to do, I’ll cook dinner and we can watch a movie. You still like those awful chick flicks? We could watch one of those.”
“Are you sure? You’ve just arrived, and I’m sure you and Grant have—”
“Honey, we’re all here for you. I’m sure. That okay, Cap?”
Taylor looks over his shoulder to Grant, who hasn’t changed his stance. His arms are still crossed, and his expression is one of pity. Or most likely, sympathy.
“Yep, sounds like the best plan,” he says with a nod, and finally releases his stance and places his hands in his pockets. “If you’d like I can pick up Twig and we can all sit around, share a pizza, or three, and watch a movie. Low on the cheese though.”
“On the pizza or movie?” Taylor asks, and we all laugh.
“Both. Getting older sucks for dairy. You two go, get cleaned up. I’ll grab the kid and we’ll be by in about an hour with hot pizzas.”
Skirting around Taylor, I walk up to Grant, pop up on my toes, and place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a good man, Grant Ellison. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. We’re family. Family takes care of family. I’ll see ya in sixty,” Grant says as he pulls me into a quick one-armed hug.
Willing the tears to hold off until I can get in a nice warm bath, I walk past Taylor and out the front door. Hot on my heels, he stops at his bike and straps his duffle onto the back seat. I feel awful that he’s only been here minutes and already moving on to somewhere else. I despise being anyone’s charity case. It’s embarrassing to ask so much of these men, but I have nobody else to lean on. My parents disowned me the minute I chose Henry over the future they planned. These military men are my family now, and I consider myself very lucky.
“Hey, Sugar?” I shout, catching Taylor’s attention.
“Jesus, Scarlett. Not that name. I thought we had an understanding.”
Shrugging, I smile and ask, “You remember the way, right?”
“I do. Drive safe.”
Nodding, I click my fob to unlock my car and settle behind the wheel. I can do this. One step at a time.
Chapter 5
> Scarlett
Hormones and death. Not the best of cocktails that’s for sure. My emotions are all over the place, like their own little marathon. There have been moments over the last few days I’ve felt like I’m losing my mind. Thankfully Taylor and his sister, Addy, have been here to help me through it all. Addy was like an older sister to Henry and having her here the last few days has been a blessing. She’s taken control of almost everything, just as Taylor predicted she would.
Over the years, Addy and I forged a friendship, and although we’ve both had a lot going on in our lives the last few years, we’ve kept up with each other via social media, checking in regularly. Her presence has been calming when I could easily fall apart.
I need to get dressed. It’s a simple task, yet today it feels like the most complicated activity. I can’t find the energy. Perhaps it’s that I have to squeeze my pregnant body into a dress or, for the next few hours, I will need to find a way to smile and accept the condolences that are sure to be handed out like candy.
Candy. I need one of those hard ginger candies Addy gave me yesterday. They made a huge difference with the return of nausea. I blame the stress and crying, because well into my second trimester, a moment I greeted with the equivalent of a major parade, nausea has been a thing of the past. Unlike the first few months when I spent hours each day purging my system, these days, I’m more likely to devour an entire pizza or put hot sauce on almost every morsel of food on my plate than anything else.
Rising from the end of my bed, I walk to the dresser and see the dish of little pieces of greatness. Unwrapping one of the candies, I pop it in my mouth and turn to stare at the dress hanging on my closet door.
Mine. It’s just mine now, not ours. I suppose it hasn’t been ours for a while, but somehow, today it all feels final. Official and real.
Promise Her Page 3