Facing Reality

by Sarah Cole

  “You ready to get out of here, kiddo?” Uncle Mitch asks me from the doorway with a sparkle in his eyes. He and Aunt Irene know what is about to happen.

  “You better believe it.” I smile.

  “Well, come on then. Your girl is waiting for you!” he says, pulling his aviator sunglasses from where they were tucked in the collar of his mint green polo.

  I stand and shuffle my way over to the waiting wheelchair. I’m sore as fuck, and I know I still have quite a way to go in terms of a full recovery, but absolutely nothing can keep me down right now, as I ready myself to grab my happiness.

  ***

  You think I’d be nervous, but I’m not as Mitch pulls into my driveway. Maybe in a different life I’d be shitting bricks over what I’m about to do, but when compared with everything I’ve been through, this is easy. Since joining the Army at eighteen, I’ve learned that if you want something, and want it badly enough, you will find a way to make it happen. What do I want? I want Clara – in my life, in my house, in my arms, and in my bed until we’re old and gray. I want the Sunday morning pancakes, and the thumping of tiny feet that we made pounding the hardwood floors. I want t-ball and ballet, and stupid Christmas cards where we’re all wearing matching outfits. I want a life and a forever with the fascinating woman that turned my world upside down and helped me become a father for the first time. I want it all.

  The car pulls to a stop in the circle drive out front, and Mitch hops out to help me out. I see the banner strung between the columns on the front porch that says, Welcome Home Daddy!, and my heart clenches in my chest with love.

  Clara steps out onto the porch with a wide smile, wearing a pretty sundress, her long dark hair flowing in waves to her waist, and she takes my breath away. Every. Damn. Time. Irene steps out behind her, carrying Emma who’s slobbering and waving around a plastic cup.

  I pick up my pace to meet her at the top of the steps. There’s still a large gauze dressing that covers her chest from surgery and another large patch at the front and back of her head, and the memories of why they are there haunt me, but it makes the fact that I can pull her into my arms and hold her, that much sweeter.

  I reach for her and pull her small body against mine, ignoring the pain, and I hold true to my promise. My lips slant over hers and I kiss her until I’m sure she can’t remember what day of the week it is, let alone her name.

  “Wow.” She breathes with a dazed expression when I finally pull away. I chuckle as she brings a couple fingers to her lips, almost as if to make sure they are still affixed to her face.

  “I told you as soon as I could stand, I’d do that.” I say, pulling her close as I reach into the pocket of my shorts and pull out the folded set of papers and hand them to her.

  “What’s this?” She asks, looking slightly confounded.

  “Open it up.” I grin.

  Unfolding the papers, I watch as her eyes scan the documents and widen and fill with tears. My smile grows and my heart beats faster.

  “Clara, you were there on the day Emma came into this world. You’ve been by her side fighting for her, protecting her, caring for and loving her every single second since that very first day. You are a mother to her in every way that counts, and the only mother she’s ever known or will ever know. These papers just make it official. Will you be Emma’s legal mother, and adopt her?” I ask, and she doesn’t say anything. She just shakes her head yes and buries her face in my neck as she cries. I look to my aunt who has tears running down her cheeks, and damn it if I don’t shed a few myself.

  “Oh, angel?” I ask, putting a little space between our bodies so she has to meet my gaze.

  “There’s one stipulation to this adoption.” I warn.

  “What’s that?” she eyes me skeptically.

  “You have to change your last name to Alexander first.” Her eyes widen as I let go of her and try to lower myself down on one knee – no easy feat when you have five bullet holes in your body and several surgical incisions. Mitch reaches forward to steady me, and ease me down into the correct form, on one knee.

  “Clara Elizabeth Scott, from the very first time I laid eyes on you, I was captivated by your beauty. As I got to know you, learned your quirks and your heart, I fell in love with you. As I watch you love my – sorry, our daughter, that love I have for you grows. It knows no bounds, because I’m pretty sure that our love is limitless. I make sure if I want something, I fight for it and I get it. I want you – forever, and I will fight for you and our love and our family every damn day if I have to, just to know I deserve it. I love you with every part of this banged up body of mine, and I want you in my life now and forever. I want to grow old with you, and watch you be a mama to Emma and our own babies. I want it all. So, Clara – angel…Will you please, please marry me?” I plead. Her ring won’t be ready for a several more weeks, but I do have the sketches of it so I hold out the folded and stained piece of paper that I tucked in my pocket after leaving the jeweler that day.

  She takes it from me without looking at it, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, and be Emma’s mommy. I love you both so freaking much.” She cries and I try to stand, but Mitch has to help me again. Once I’m up, I pull her into my arms and kiss the living daylights out of her again. Irene brings Emma over, and neither of us can really hold her right now, given our conditions, but we both wrap our arms around her and pepper her face with kisses until she’s had enough and begins to fuss.

  She finally remembers the piece of folded paper she’s holding in her hand and holds it up in question.

  “Open it, and I’ll explain.”

  She unfolds the paper with care, and studies the inside. The paper is stained with blood, but you can still see the sketches.

  “The day of the shooting I was at the jewelry store across the square designing an engagement ring for you.” I say and her red rimmed chocolate eyes fly to mine. “I knew the day before I was an asshole because I was hurt. I laid awake that whole night missing you, and regretting the things I said. The next morning I went for a run, and it was like it all became clear to me. Yeah, I was in pain, but that pain was nothing compared to the thought of not having you in mine or Emma’s life. I knew then I had to find a way to make it right – to fix it, fix us. When I got home, your father was waiting for me, and we had a good talk, and I just decided to go for it and ask for his permission. I knew it was premature and I still had to right the wrongs, but I knew what I wanted. So, that afternoon, I went to design something as unique and rare as you. Thank God I did, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been there when I was. Call it divine intervention or whatever you want, but I was exactly where I was supposed to be in that moment.”

  “Flynn…” she cries, and I wrap my arms around her once more. “This is stunning. It looks a lot like my Nana’s ring.”

  “I remembered you saying how much you loved it, so I tried to describe it how you did to Mr. Henderson. We made a few adjustments, but I hope you like it.”

  “I love it so much. It’s perfect! You’re perfect!” she says, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, studying the blood-stained paper some more.

  “It is one of a kind, just like you, angel. It won’t be ready for a few more weeks.”

  “Thank you, Flynn.”

  “No. Thank you, angel. You gave me a forever worth fighting for.”

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER…

  CLARA:

  “Tell Mommy how pretty she looks!” Flynn coos, holding the smartphone screen up to my sweaty face. I want to knock it out of his hand or shove it up his butt, but when I see Emma’s big blue eyes on the screen I melt.

  “Hi baby girl! Are you being good for your Uncle Logan?” I ask excitedly, and she squeals clapping her hands.

  “Mamamamama!” she says, and I swear I’ll never get tired of hearing that from her.

  “If by good you mean flushing a Rolex down your toilet… then she’s been great!” Logan says, his face appearing on the screen
.

  “Oh jeeze!” I groan as I feel another contraction coming on and I give Flynn the death glare as he smiles brightly at my brother.

  “Got to go, man! Give our girl love. There’s info on my desk for the plumber we use on sites if you need someone. Mike will do it. Just tell him I’ll pay him next week.”

  “Ok,” I hear my brother agree. “Good luck, sis!” he calls and I try to respond, but it comes out as more of a growl as my back cramps with the contraction.

  My husband slides the phone back in his pocket, and grips my hand.

  “You got this, angel.” He says, and one of the nurses lifts the blanket to check how far along I am.

  “Mrs. Alexander, I hear you’re ready to push.” The doctor says, and all I can do is sag in relief as I finally hear the words. I’ve been begging for what seems like hours, and they kept telling me I wasn’t ready. This is what I get for choosing to go the natural route. You feel everything. Bad choice.

  Flynn smooths my hair back with his hand before he hops in the bed behind me, pulling my back to him just like we learned the birthing class. I was surprised at how fearless he was about the whole thing, although I shouldn’t have been given how he is with our daughter. Our daughter. I love saying that. The adoption only took a few months to be finalized, and we got that good news just a few weeks after the state case was closed in regards to Emma’s well-being. It took a bit longer to get that clean psychiatric evaluation that we’d originally anticipated, but given the circumstances we were faced with it was understandable. Flynn still attends therapy once a week, and takes an anti-anxiety medication daily that seems to help significantly with his symptoms. Since he’s been seeking treatment he’s only had one episode that we’re aware of. He still has the nightmares from time to time, but they are never violent like they used to be. It’s a journey that we take one day at a time – together.

  “Come on baby.” He says into my ear as he grabs me behind my knees, providing me with some leverage to push against.

  “Are you talking to me, or the watermelon that I’m birthing?” I ask and he chuckles.

  “Both. Come on, angel. Push on three.” He says, counting to three and I take a deep breath and give it everything I’ve got.

  “Looks like one more should do it. We’ve got the head!” The doctor says. “On three and we can get the shoulders.”

  “One, two, three.” Flynn says, kissing the side of my sweaty cheek as I push one last time, alleviating the pressure once and for all.

  “We’ve got a baby boy!” the doctor calls. I cry tears of joy, as I sag in relief against Flynn who is cradling me close and praising me as he rains kisses down all over my sweaty head and face.

  The doctor places our son on my chest, and I stare into his perfect little face. He looks so much like his big sister, and I swear my heart doubles in size. I lean forward, kissing him and soaking in how beautiful and perfect this moment is. I watch as Flynn’s hand reaches forward, his wedding band catching the light, as he delicately traces the planes of our son’s face.

  “Holy shit. We made a tiny, perfect human being.” I curse, not being able to help myself, and Flynn laughs softly into my hair.

  “That’s what happens when your mama’s an angel.” He says, causing my heart to melt.

  “… and when your Daddy’s a god.” He adds, flexing his muscles animatedly, and I elbow him with a laugh.

  “You’re rotten.” I tease.

  “But you love me.” he smiles, with humor in his eyes.

  “More than anything…” I reply, tilting my head up for a kiss.

  “Ditto.” He responds as his lips find mine.

  Breaking our kiss, he looks at our minutes old baby. Placing his chin on my shoulder, he says, “Son, watch how I love your mother.”

  He places another soft kiss to my neck, and in his arms I feel more beautiful and loved than I ever have.

  I’ve come to learn that life is one big maze of decisions, and each decision leads you on a different path- good or bad. At all times, you are only one decision away from a new reality, and I wish I could say I never second guessed myself, but I did. I’m just beyond thankful that every choice I have made has led me to this beautiful moment. Because now, this is how I measure my success and self-worth. By the love and family that surrounds me. This is my reality.

  THE END

  PLAYLIST

  The Hunger – Of Mice & Men

  Dear Agony – Breaking Benjamin

  Without You – Breaking Benjamin

  Blow me Away- Breaking Benjamin

  Gravedigger – Gemini Syndrome

  Gunslinger – Avenged Sevenfold

  Shepheard of Fire - Avenged Sevenfold

  Wrong side of Heaven - FFDP

  Heart of Fire – Black Veil Brides

  The Devil in I – Slipknot

  Just a Kiss – Lady Antebellum

  Dark – Palisades

  Hard Feelings – Palisades

  Cruise – Florida Georgia Line

  Sympathy – Too Close to Touch

  The Art of Eye Contact – Too Close to Touch

  Translate – Too Close to Touch

  Glasshouse - Hands Like Houses

  Stillwater – Hands Like Houses

  Angel – Theory of a Deadman

  Graphic Violence – Classic Jack

  Version of Me – The Color Morale

  My Church – Maren Morris

  The House that Built Me – Miranda Lambert

  Need to be – Memphis may fire

  Chaos – I Prevail

  My Heart I Surrender – I Prevail

  Lifelines – I Prevail

  Bad Vibrations – A Day To Remember

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book was incredibly challenging for me to write. I came up with this concept as I was writing the Fading to Light Duet, and I knew I had to go with it. My first books very much embodied who I am as a person. Personalities, certain struggles and interests were shared with the characters I created- so they came easily to me. I loved this story as soon as it popped into my head, but it was a complete change of gears and I shared very little with the characters. I nearly called it quits, but I pushed through with plenty of encouragement from my ever-supportive husband, Andrew and my close friend and fellow author, Mystique Roberts.

  I want to shout a huge thank you to my readers and friends that have supported my journey into this amazing world of writing, and have given me such positive feedback. I write because I love to, but hearing that you love reading these stories as much as I love writing them makes it so worth it in the end. So, thank you!

  I also need to take a second to give a shout out to my parents. They have always been incredibly supportive, and have always encouraged my love of the arts. My mother, especially, planted a seed and nurtured it until it grew into this consuming love of reading, writing, music, and dance. Thank you, mama. Thank you for teaching me that books are the ultimate form of escapism. Without you, I probably would have lived this life never knowing what I was truly born to do.

  Thank you again for your support. I can’t wait to share more of me with you!

  XO-

  Sarah

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sarah Cole is a lover of words and books in general. Her love of writing was discovered after she began writing her first novel just for fun. She grew up with her nose in a book and a story in her heart, and finally decided to put her pen to paper. Once she did, there was no turning back. She is the author of the Fading to Light Duet, and has a handful of other projects in the works.

  Sarah graduated with a Business Management degree from Millikin University, and is a Midwestern girl through and through. A wife and a mother to a young daughter, she has her hands full, but wouldn't have it any other way.

  https://www.instagram.com/sarahcolewrites

  https://business.facebook.com/SarahColeAuthor

  Email: sarahcoleauthor@gmail.com

  />   Sarah Cole, Facing Reality