by Hope Tarr
One day while Adrian was doing PT with his unit, his heart rate skyrocketed to the point that emergency medication to slow it didn’t work. The scare sent us to heart specialists, and it was determined my dearest needed a procedure to fix the electrical node controlling his heart rate.
Simply put, it was so strange—to think that this was our reality. But, we pushed along and hoped for the best, looking forward to the ablation procedure. Adrian was my rock. He couldn’t have a broken heart. It would be fixed.
Ever since we’d married, we’d been stationed far away from family, even when we returned stateside. So it was always just the two of us. And I’d been leaning on him for so long. But no questions asked, if it was now going to be my turn to be the rock, I would dive headfirst into that role.
Two weeks before Adrian would turn twenty-six years old, the ablation was not successful and, instead of fixing the problem, made it worse. My soldier walked away from the hospital with a permanent pacemaker implanted in his chest and a heart that is completely dependent on that lifesaving battery.
The blessing was that he walked out of the hospital, and we were together.
I’ll never forget the thoughtful doctor who came out and asked me what side Adrian held his rifle on so that he could implant the pacemaker on the opposite side. It was that action that allowed Adrian to fight to stay in the Army he loved and prove he could still perform his duties.
He was very lucky but also very lost. And now it was my turn not only to be supportive, but to anticipate his feelings and mood each day when he would come home.
I keep repeating that the blessing was we were together.
Some people say it’s hard to believe how survivors get through the challenges they are faced with. But what I can’t imagine is having to do it alone, and my heart goes out to anyone in that situation. Please know that if nothing else, you are in my family’s thoughts and prayers.
Life soon found its balance again for us.
The Army allowed Adrian to change his job to a less-physical one, which in turn kept him from being medically discharged. And then in 2001, we were blessed with a full-term pregnancy. Because this time around we knew I had an incompetent cervix (when the weight of the growing baby becomes too heavy for the weak cervix to hold it inside the womb, it essentially falls out), Adrian sent me to live with my dad and stepmom in Oklahoma while he stayed stationed in Colorado. He didn’t have to explain with words or admit out loud the reason. I understood Adrian was terrified of the past repeating itself and wanted me somewhere I could stay off my feet and have the constant attention of family. That was something Adrian couldn’t provide as an active-duty soldier on call. I missed him, and it was upsetting at times, but my dad and stepmom were our guardian angels.
The blessing was threefold. I learned the value of accepting help when you so obviously need it. Our son was born healthy and on time, and I got to spend precious time with my dad.
As soon as he was old enough, we began adventures with our little one in tow. Disneyland wasn’t just fun now, it was magical. We happily exchanged Guns N’ Roses concerts for the Wiggles, nights of sleep for power naps, and Colorado/Oklahoma for Georgia. It was time to once again leave the western half of the U.S. and make it on our own. Our newly grown family was ready for a new place.
Life was balanced, which for the record is the way we prefer it. (Smile)
For all the ups and downs, we were always blessed with healthy-sized chunks of time together in between. If circumstances arose (like Adrian deploying to the invasion of Iraq) when we needed to love from afar, it wasn’t long before togetherness followed.
That’s not to say I didn’t have times when I counted the good moments but wondered if heartbreak was waiting around the corner. I just tried to keep those to a minimum.
Luckily by this time, Adrian and I had learned that a balanced life required the good and the bad. And that we had always gotten though the rough patches hand in hand.
In 2007, that wouldn’t be the case.
Adrian deployed for another year in Iraq, but not before depositing our son and me somewhere safe. This time it was back home in San Diego with Mom. I sometimes wonder if he had one of those feelings of what was to come.
A few months into that deployment, my dad was killed by a careless driver, one mile from his Oklahoma home, while riding his motorcycle. Adrian couldn’t come home.
A few months after losing my dad, my paternal grandpa took his own life. Adrian still couldn’t come home.
It sounds like a lot of couldn’ts, but I know now the blessing was learning love and support sometimes exist in simply knowing you are looking at the same glow of the same moon as your faraway hero.
For the remainder of that deployment, I told myself, “When he comes home, we’ll deal with it then—when he comes home.” I was lost, and this time, my dear mom was our guardian angel.
This year, my husband retired from the Army after twenty-one years of service.
The blessing is that he’s a full-time online student now, earning his master’s degree in counseling…and he’s home all the time! That means he sees firsthand the creation of the romance heroes who always contain little bits of him.
I can’t imagine my hero ever going away again. But if he does, it will be okay, because we’ve become old pros at sharing, loving from afar and accepting help. But, more important, we know how precious it is when you come home.
Blessings to you and yours from the Flores Family.
Carlene Love Flores is a fan of the stars (especially Orion), music (especially Depeche Mode), and her traveling family (no favorites—she loves them all). These inspire her intimate romance stories. If she could touch someone’s heart with writing the way others have for her, she’d say there never lived a luckier girl. Visit Carlene online at www.carlenelove.com.
Love Is All Around
By Donna Grant
One of my favorite lines is from the movie Love Actually: “Love is all around.”
I grew up with loving parents, who after fifty-four years of marriage are still together. They gave me the foundation for a steady marriage and helped me see what I wanted in a husband/marriage. Of course, knowing it and finding it are two different things.
Who knew in June of 1995, as I sat in a special summer session in college, that my life would change in the blink of an eye? For me, it was another day, and hopefully a quick few weeks on a course I had been putting off. I was thinking of the weekend and my plans with friends. But everything stopped the moment I laid eyes on a hunky guy with the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen.
As soon as Steve walked into that class, I knew one definitive thing: I was going to marry him. I used to hear people say that all the time, and I’d just roll my eyes, thinking, “As if!” The truth is that it happened to me. It wasn’t a lightning bolt, earthquake, or anything so extreme. It was simply warmth that spread through me as if recognizing the other half of myself, a half I hadn’t even realized was missing until that moment.
When he turned those blue eyes on me and smiled, I was prepared to do whatever it took to get his attention. Luckily, he felt the same, and it wasn’t long before we were dating, engaged, and then married. Like so many in the military, Steve was divorced with a young daughter. After serving our country for six years in the Marine Corps, he had returned home to rebuild his life. We both knew the road would be difficult, but we forged ahead, shoulder to shoulder, side by side.
There were too many bumps to count, some huge potholes, a few dips, but always we had each other. There was a lot of laughter and love. Steve has a wicked sense of humor that always has me laughing. It was that laughter that forged our bond tighter as we had children of our own.
There are times I look at Steve and think we’ve only been together a short time, that we’re still newly married. Then I look at our oldest, now fourteen, and realize that we just celebrated seventeen years of marriage. Other times, I feel as if he’s always been in my life, that I’ve k
nown him forever. That there was never a day he wasn’t beside me.
I think it’s the little things we do for each other that keep things romantic, sexy, and intriguing. We still hold hands everywhere we go, even in the car. He opens doors for me, cooks, and often surprises me with flowers at the oddest times. We talk several times during the day on the phone while he’s at work. Mostly, it’s to check in and see how each other’s days are going.
We have frequent date nights that can include dinner, a movie, a long drive, or even staying at home, if the kids are gone, and snacking on bread and cheeses with a glass of wine and a great movie.
There are times we’ll be at a party and separated, and yet I’ll look over to find him smiling at me before he mouths, “I love you.” It’s a “just us” moment in a crowd of people, a spark that continues to sizzle years after our first kiss.
When we recognized that the dining room in our house wasn’t being used but once a year, we converted it into our Wine Room. Now filled with chairs, sofas, a wall full of pictures of our family during each of our vacations, and stocked with wine, it has become one of our favorite rooms.
Each night before dinner, Steve and I head into that room for a glass of wine and to talk about our day, the kids, what we have going on the next day, and any plans we’re making. It doesn’t take long before the kids are in there with us, sharing their day and the happenings at school.
A room that was normally forgotten has turned into a thriving heart of our home, a place where there’s no TV. There’s just lots of talking.
It’s that communicating that is the cornerstone of our relationship. We tell each other everything, no matter how hard it is to hear or say. It’s so easy to get upset and let things fester until it can destroy a relationship. It’s a rule we put into place while we were still dating that we would share everything.
I knew it was important, but I didn’t realize how vital such a rule was until years later. There are no secrets between us. He might get angry at something I did or said, but he will tell me and we’ll work it out. The same goes for me. It has prevented us from fighting. We bicker, because, well, people bicker. That’s normal. But the screaming, shouting kind of fights? Not a one. When there is open communication, so much gets resolved before it can grow into something ugly and destructive. And we never, ever go to bed angry at each other.
It was Steve who urged me to write my first story. His support has never waivered. He reads my books and also helps me work out scenes when I’m stuck. He’s my go-to guy when I’m writing a fight scene.
We celebrate every book release, every contract, and every good thing that happens in my career. And, in turn, we do the same for him in his career and the triathlons in which he competes. We’re each other’s best friend, and while we each have our own group of friends, we rarely do something without the other.
There’s another rule we have in our marriage: no electronics in the bedroom. That means even a TV. Our bedroom is our sanctuary. It’s a place the kids know is ours, a place where we can get away when needed.
Our bedroom is where the outside world, with all the gadgets, phones, e-mail, and intrusions, doesn’t penetrate. I believe this is one of the biggest reasons we still have such a loving marriage. We’re both on our computers all day long, and it would be so easy to bring the laptop or iPad in the bed and get some more work done, but we don’t. Everyone needs time to disconnect from life and reconnect with each other, and every night we get ours.
Love isn’t all about sex. Love is about knowing someone as well as you know yourself, being there for them in the good times and the bad, caring for them when they’re healthy as well as when they are ill.
It’s about realizing life isn’t just about you anymore.
It’s about the both of you.
I’ve been asked so many times if my marriage factors into the heroes I write. The answer is yes! I love men who take charge, men who will stop at nothing to care for the ones they love—the alphas. I married such a man, and it’s no wonder that all of my heroes are alphas. However, just like my heroes, Steve is loving, considerate, affectionate, devoted, funny, charming, successful, and sexy as hell.
I still get all tingly when he kisses me. I still long to hold his hand. I still gaze into his dazzling blue eyes. I still curl up next to him on the couch. I still cuddle in bed. I still look for things to give him that will make him smile. I still kiss him every time he leaves and when he comes home. I still say, “I love you,” when getting off the phone.
I still get excited when he walks through the door, shouting, “Baby, I’m home!”
Three simple rules have helped shape my marriage into what it is today:
Open communication.
Never go to bed angry at each other.
No electronics in the bedroom.
Life isn’t always simple, but facing the challenges with someone who is the other part of your soul makes it a lot less frightening and easier to face. Just knowing we have each other, that we support each other in whatever decisions are made, that we face nothing alone, brings us together every day.
Love is all around us. We just have to know how to see it, how to feel it, how to return it, and, most important, how to share it.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Donna Grant has been praised for her “totally addictive” and “unique and sensual” stories. She’s the author of more than twenty-five novels spanning multiple genres of romance. Her bestselling series, Dark Kings, features a thrilling combination of shape-shifting, immortal dragons who are dark, dangerous, and irresistible. She lives with her husband, two children, a dog, and three cats in Texas. Visit Donna at www.donnagrant.com.
Working Our Way to a Happily Ever After
By Cindy Nord
…She went back in time to find him.
At thirty years old, betrayed and disillusioned by real-life romance, a history-loving divorcée, mother of two rambunctious young sons, and an avid reader of love stories, immersed herself in writing a Civil War novel that contained all the elements she believed a true hero should possess. Each night she would tuck the boys into bed, then pull out her typewriter and add a few more lines to a story carved deep inside her heart.
Then one day, a miracle happened, though at the time she didn’t recognize it as such. News reached her of a Civil War reenactment taking place on the grounds of the local university. She could hardly believe her luck. This was a perfect opportunity to learn firsthand about the tumultuous time period that held her interest. So…clutching hold of her boys’ hands, she headed straight for the event.
Excitement pulsed in her veins as American history breathed into life. The acrid aroma of campfires wafted around her. The thundering gallop of cavalry horses and the blazing retort of musketry echoed in her ears. Women clad in breathtaking Victorian gowns sashayed across the grounds and stole the show. Indeed, a fascinating spectacle swept her straight back into the nineteenth century.
And then, a spark ignited when she saw a handsome Federal officer marching across the field, leading his soldiers into battle. At that moment, she knew she would become part of this most unique hobby. She and the boys immediately joined up, and a remarkable friendship with the handsome officer soon developed.
Their first telephone conversation lasted more than an hour; each conversation thereafter, longer still. Although reluctant to jump into any kind of relationship again, she nonetheless found their incredible friendship blossoming into so much more.
A few months later, her two boys walked her down the aisle and into the waiting arms of her real-life hero.
This was how the love story between Tom and Cindy Nord began.
Ambling into a ready-made family was not the easiest thing for a single guy to do, but Tom came in with eyes and arms wide open. Twenty-plus years later, the boys are grown and on their own, we’re blessed with three amazing grandchildren, and the promises we made to one another so long ago are still an integral part of our lives.
So, how did we make our marriage flourish, when many others around us have failed? Well, here are a few of the things that we believe have helped to keep us close.
First and foremost, my husband is my best friend. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am his. This truth has never waned in all these years. Somewhere along the way, we discovered we had turned into a phenomenal mutual-support team. That partnership became the glue that sealed us through all the years of teenage angst, broken-down cars, and broken parental rules.
As a writer, I am a passionate soul. And Tom? Well, Tom is the calm that tempers my storm. This balancing act has worked well with all that life has thrown at us. Where he is my anchor, I am his sail, pushing him, helping him, encouraging him to forge in new directions.
Second, we make each other laugh. Whether it be a silly song we both start singing at the exact same time or a corny joke only we find funny, these are the golden threads sewing us together. Strong. Solid. Unbreakable. We have come to cherish every single strand.
But, okay…I know what you’re thinking. Do we ever fight? Of course we fight. And we fight loud and hard, too, fervent about whatever point we are trying to make at that moment. Yet, as the years rolled along, we came to understand that disagreements, however unpleasant at the time, didn’t mean the end. Forgiveness always followed as we learned how to communicate.
Yep. Number three: communication, which reminds me of a funny story. Tom and I had been married only a couple of years when someone at work mentioned an upcoming marriage-enrichment encounter offered at a noted retreat center. The event included lessons to help couples communicate better. What a great idea! Straightaway, we signed up.
The time arrived. We drove fifty miles to the campus. With high expectations about what we might learn to deepen our relationship, we clutched hands and headed into our first workshop. After sitting through eight grueling hours listening to instructors telling couples how to talk to one another, we returned to our dorm room realizing we didn’t really have a problem in that department after all, unlike some of the others in attendance. Rather than face another lengthy session or waste any more of our precious time, that evening we plotted our escape.