by Joanna Sims
“I’ve decided something,” she announced.
As usual, Bruce was immersed in his phone, playing a game—the man was obsessed. Savannah put her hand over her husband’s phone and pushed it down.
“I’ve made a decision.”
Bruce never liked it when she covered the screen of his phone. “I was listening.”
“I want you to look at me.”
“Fine. I’m listening.” Her husband put his phone facedown on his leg and opened his eyes really wide as he stared at her. “And looking.”
“I hope it’s not too painful.”
“It’s never painful looking at you.” He winked at her and leaned close so she’d kiss him.
She obliged, giving him a little kiss on the lips.
“So what have you decided?”
“Well,” she said excitedly. “I’ve decided to get a tattoo.”
He looked at her like she’d grown two horns and buck teeth.
“Why would you do that?”
Savannah shifted and then hooked her arm around her bent knee. “For Samuel. I want to get a portrait of him on my back.” She reached over her right shoulder. “Right here.”
It took her husband a short time to get onboard. “If that’s what you want, I support you.”
Savannah was pleased. “Good. Because I was going to do it either way.”
Later that day, armed with the first picture of Sammy she had found on Bruce’s computer, Savannah met her sister Justine, her sister-in-law, Jessie, and her friend Shayna at A Touch of Ink Tattoo parlor near the university in downtown Bozeman.
“Isabella is the best tattoo artist ever, trust me.” Jessie’s long, raven’s-wing hair swung behind her as she walked with a youthful jaunt.
“Mom and Dad are going to have a baby cow.” Justine repeated what she had been telling her sister for a week.
“It’s my skin.” Savannah loved her parents, but it was her body and her choice to honor her son in this way.
“I would love to get a tattoo,” Shayna admitted.
“Get one with me!”
Shayna, a plus-size woman who always dressed in stylish but conservative clothing, shook her head no. “I’m not ready. But I wanted to be here to support you. I love the idea of keeping Samuel with you always.”
Savannah felt elated at finally walking into the tattoo parlor, putting her plan into action.
“Welcome.” A slender woman who looked like a 1920s pinup greeted them. “Take a look at my portfolio, and I’ll be with you guys in a minute.”
It was a small shop and surprisingly clean, with hand-scraped wooden floors. Savannah had never set foot in a tattoo parlor before, but Isabella Noble was hot on the tattoo scene. She had graduated from Montana State with an art degree; the walls of her shop were lined with art awards, her degree and enlarged pictures of some of her best tattoo work.
While Isabella finished up with the client in her chair, Savannah and her entourage gathered around the glass counter and flipped through the tattoo artist’s portfolio.
“Wow.” Savannah was genuinely impressed with the level of talent Isabella demonstrated in her work.
“Told you,” Jessie said before she spun away to explore.
“She’ll be able to do Sammy justice,” Shayna agreed.
Justine kept silent—her sister would give her moral support, but she wouldn’t act like she agreed with the idea if she didn’t.
“Look at this one.” Savannah pointed to a black-and-white portrait that Isabella had tattooed on a man’s arm. “It looks just like a photograph.”
They waited for Isabella to finish, and then it was Savannah’s turn to talk to the artist about the tattoo of her dreams.
“Who’s this handsome fellow?” Isabella admired the photograph of Samuel.
“My son. Sammy.”
They discussed the size of the portrait, the position on her body, and whether she wanted the tattoo to be color or black and white.
“I can do it,” Isabella told her. “I’ll just need some time to draw it up for you.”
Savannah left a deposit with Isabella and set an appointment to come back and get the tattoo.
“Thank you, Isabella.” Savannah shook the petite artist’s hand. “I can’t wait.”
Savannah hugged her sister and her friend, and then she walked to her truck with Jessie.
“You know what I was thinking?” Jessie asked her.
“No telling.”
“I was thinking that you and my brother should have a vow renewal. Wouldn’t that be super cool?”
The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, yet it wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it was a pretty fabulous idea. Bruce and she could start over—truly start their marriage anew.
“You could get a new dress—I could be one of your maids of honor again, but this time I could wear a bangin’ dress. We could have a huge party at the ranch. You should totally do it.”
* * *
“How does it look?” Savannah was lying facedown on the bed, naked to the waist. “Do you like it?”
Bruce sat down next to his wife on the bed, amazed at the likeness of his son on Savannah’s back. He took the top off some ointment, squeezed a little onto his clean fingers and rubbed it over the tattoo.
“It looks just like Sammy,” he told her. “I love it.”
“I do, too. It hurt like all get-out, but it was worth it.”
Bruce was glad that Savannah had opted not to put his date of death beneath the portrait—he couldn’t be sure, but he felt that his wife had him in mind when she opted to just include Sammy’s name and “Beloved Son” with the picture.
Savannah rolled over and then sat up. Bruce’s eyes, slightly narrowed, admired her naked breasts.
“You are beautiful, my love.” Bruce traced the curve of her breast.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I do.” He leaned down and took her breast in his mouth.
The moment his mouth touched her breast, that delicate, sensitive core of her body, right at the apex of her thighs, responded to her husband’s invitation. Bruce pulled her on to his lap, suckling her breast until she was moving her hips against him, seeking that relief that only he could give her. With one arm, Bruce lifted her up and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He reached for his zipper, but she pushed his hand away.
With a sensual smile in her eyes, she hooked her finger into his waistband and pulled him between her thighs. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans like she was unwrapping a present; his erection, so hard, so warm, sprung free as she pushed his jeans and underwear downward so he could step out of them.
She took him in her hands, stroking him in just the way he loved, before taking him into her mouth. Bruce dug his fingers into her hair and moaned. It didn’t take Bruce long to change the position—he enjoyed that type of kiss, but he loved being inside of her.
He held out his hand to her, helped her up, and then took her place on the bed. “Come here.”
Savannah knelt on her knees on either side of his muscular thighs and then sank downward, taking him in, letting him fill her so completely. With a little struggle, she untucked her legs so she would wind them around her husband. She wrapped her legs and arms tightly around her handsome rancher, kissing his neck, breathing in his scent, while they rocked their bodies in that familiar rhythm as their moans of pleasure melded together.
After the lovemaking, they lay beside each other in the bed, surrounded by their canine family; Savannah was on her stomach so she wouldn’t hurt her new tattoo, while Bruce was on his back, one arm behind his head, the other on her derriere. It was dark in the bedroom, cool and quiet. Their eyes had adjusted to the lower light, so Savannah could still make out the expression on her husband’s face.
&nbs
p; “Jessie had a crazy idea.”
“What’s that?”
“She thinks...” Why was she so nervous about saying this? “She thinks that we should have a vow renewal.”
Her heart started to beat a little faster when he didn’t answer right away. Didn’t he want to marry her again?
“You mean—like a ceremony?”
Savannah pushed upright and sat cross-legged next to her lounging husband. The more she had thought about a vow renewal, the more excited she was about the prospect. It was a chance to recommit themselves to the marriage, a sign that, no matter what, they were a bonded pair for the rest of their lives.
“Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. “The whole shebang. A second wedding. I could get a dress. You could be in a tuxedo. We could have a reception here at the ranch for all of our family and friends.
“What do you think?” She reached out to hold his hand.
“I think...” he replied slowly, deliberately. “I’m going to have to go ring shopping.”
* * *
His brother Liam, a strong supporter of his attempts to repair his marriage with Savannah, met him at the Jewelry Station in downtown Bozeman. The fact that he had a second chance at picking out a ring, proposing and having a ceremony with his wife made Bruce feel hopeful for the longevity of his marriage in a way he hadn’t before. To pull back from the precipice of divorce, to have a new opportunity to make Savannah his wife for the rest of his life was, quite frankly, a blessing.
“What are you thinking about getting her this time?” Liam, the tallest of his full brothers and a large-animal veterinarian, was wearing the blue scrubs he usually wore when he conducted pre-purchase vet checks on horses.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Bruce told him, scouring the rows of glass cases for the exact ring for his bride. She was such an extraordinary woman, he wanted this ring to reflect that. And he certainly wanted this new ring to be completely different from the single band of diamonds she wore as a wedding band. She had wanted a yellow sapphire for her engagement ring the first time around, which he had agreed to, but this time, she was going to get a diamond.
“Hello, gentlemen.” A pretty blonde woman in her mid-forties greeted them. “What are we looking for today?”
“An engagement ring,” Bruce told her. “For my wife.”
Tiffany was the woman’s name, and she spent an hour with him, showing him different engagement rings and wedding sets. Her patience and expertise were exactly what he needed to finally decide on the perfect ring for his bride. He couldn’t find it in the cases; instead, with Tiffany’s help and creative skills, he designed a custom diamond ring for Savannah. It was going to be unlike anything she had in her jewelry box—it was going to be delicate and sparkly and fit for a princess. It was going to be perfect for her; he couldn’t wait to see it finished. In the meantime, he needed to plan the perfect surprise proposal. He had to think of what would make it special for Savannah—how would she want him to propose?
“Thanks for doing this with me,” Bruce said to his brother as they left the jewelry store.
“I’m happy to see you making it work with Savannah,” his younger brother said. “I wouldn’t wish divorce on my worst enemy.”
His own divorce was still a sensitive topic for Liam.
“How are the kids?”
“They seem to be happy enough,” the veterinarian told him. “But I get real tired of having a relationship with my own children on a screen.”
They gave each other a hug before they parted ways. Liam had been through his own private hell, so Bruce didn’t say what had popped into his mind when his brother talked about his children. Maybe it wasn’t ideal, but it was better that Liam could still see his children, while he didn’t have that luxury; if he could have Sammy back but only see him via video chat, he’d take that deal every day and twice on Sunday.
* * *
“Is it true that you aren’t coming back this year?” her friend Deb asked her while they began the chore of packing the belongings in her apartment. This task was long overdue, and in light of the progress she had made in her marriage to Bruce, and in light of the fact that it was time to renew her lease, Savannah decided it was way past time to give up her apartment and move all of her belongings back to Sugar Creek.
“It’s true,” she replied while taping up the bottom of a book box.
Soon after she had found out about Sammy—his life and his death—her desire to shape a different future for herself emerged. Yes, she loved teaching. But her soul wanted something else now. She wanted to start a foundation in Sammy’s memory, to build awareness about keeping children safe near all types of water, including toilet and tub. She wanted Sammy to have new life, to be remembered always, and to help other parents not experience the same preventable tragedy. In short, she wanted to dedicate her life to Sammy’s memory—it made her feel more connected to the son she couldn’t remember, the son she only knew through pictures and family stories and videos.
“Well,” Deb said with a sad expression, “we’ll miss you. But I do understand. And if there’s anything I can do to help with the foundation, just let me know.”
She worked all day on the apartment, packing up the kitchen and the bathroom and the living room. It was a hard task, not just physically, but mentally. Inevitably, she came across memorabilia of her relationship with Leroy—cards, notes, printed out pictures hung on the refrigerator. One by one, Savannah destroyed those items and threw them in the trash. Leroy wasn’t a bad-looking guy; he was just young and a little uneducated and naive. Why in the world had she gravitated to him? It didn’t make a bit of sense; she had a feeling that it never would.
“That’s it.” Savannah taped up the last box.
Deb was sitting on the floor drinking a soda; her friend gestured for her to join her.
“Here’s to you and Bruce.” Deb first handed her a bottle of soda and then held out her bottle for a toast.
“I’ll drink to that.” She clinked her plastic bottle to Deb’s.
They were both too tired to expend energy on small talk; they had been friends for years, so they could sit in comfortable silence.
Savannah looked around at the apartment she didn’t remember living in. “I can’t thank you enough, Deb. I’d still be putting boxes together if you hadn’t helped. Now all that’s left to do is to get Bruce and his brothers to pack this stuff up, then I can clean it and turn in my keys.”
The two of them rested and recharged their batteries before they parted ways. Deb had to make dinner for her three boys, and Savannah wanted to get back to the ranch to see Bruce. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she was ready for him to come get all of her stuff from the apartment. On the “undo the mess we made of our marriage” checklist, getting rid of her postseparation apartment, a symbol to the both of them, was about to be checked right off that list.
* * *
After dinner, they went for their usual evening walk. This was one of her favorite moments in her day—walking, hand in hand, along the roads of Sugar Creek Ranch, or through the pastures, with their dogs running and barking and chasing each other. It was such an enjoyable way to end their day together, and it also gave them an opportunity to discuss things that they had on their minds.
They reached one of the fences facing west, and Bruce lifted her up and set her down on the top plank. Savannah spun around so she was facing westward, and Bruce, still standing, leaned against the fence beside her.
She reached over to brush his hair, a little on the long side now, off his forehead.
“The apartment is ready to go.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Her husband wrapped his arm around her hips. “I’ll get the bros together, and we’ll get all of your stuff back on the ranch where it belongs.”
“I’m ready.”
&
nbsp; He nodded.
“I also told Deb about not returning to teaching. It feels weird to say that out loud.”
She had always had a career—work had always been her joy—but the foundation for Sammy was speaking to her heart now.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” she asked Bruce. “I mean, about starting the foundation?”
“I want you to follow your heart, my love,” her husband said earnestly. “I want you to be happy and I want you to be with me. Other than those two things, I’m flexible.”
She leaned down and kissed his lips. “Thank you. Sometimes I think I’m being really selfish leaving my kids at work.”
“You’re not being selfish,” Bruce disagreed. “You’re being a mother who loves her son. You’re being a mother who wants to stay connected to your son, to have Sammy’s life touch other parents. That’s not selfish. Personally, I’m really proud of you.”
This was classic Bruce—he always made her feel good about following her dreams. Would he be on board about the next dream she wanted to pursue?
“I also made an appointment with my ob-gyn today.”
Bruce’s brows drew together with concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I want to talk to her about getting off the pill.”
She had Bruce’s full attention now.
Savannah turned a bit so she could look into her husband’s stunning blue eyes.
“I want to try to have another baby, Bruce.”
His expression was inscrutable—she couldn’t tell if he thought the idea was crazy or awesome.
“What do you...think about that idea?” she prompted him.
Samuel had been unplanned, but she could see from the pictures that she had reveled in motherhood. She wished she could remember what it was like to “feel” motherhood and remember what it felt like to hold her son and experience that wide, ecstatic smile on her face. Savannah realized that they would never be able to fill the void that Sammy left in their lives, but why couldn’t they bring another life into the family? Why couldn’t they create another life, a child manifested from their love, their friendship, their passion and their devotion? Why?