Jillian's Promise

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  I hung my purse on the back of a barstool and busied myself by setting the table. “Good. How was physical therapy?”

  “Great. Coming home instead of staying at the hospital was fantastic.”

  “Any problem with the shuttle?”

  “No. The driver picked me up right at ten and brought me home this afternoon.”

  Drew set the bacon on a plate and carried it to the table. “Are we playing cards again tonight?”

  Keith grinned at me. “What do you say, Jills? Do you want to put these boys in their place at the card table?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Mom.” Drew gave me the puppy dog eyes. “Last night was so much fun. We played Hearts, and when Matt tried to shoot the moon, he bombed. You should’ve seen it. He fell right into my trap, and I didn’t even know I had a trap.”

  Under normal circumstances, Matt would’ve punched his younger brother for teasing him. Instead, he tousled Drew’s hair and spoke with a playfulness he reserved only for friends. “Next time, little bro. Next time, you’re going down.”

  Feeling unsettled, I opened the cupboard to find a glass for water. “I didn’t know three people could play Hearts.”

  “Oh, they can all right,” Matt said, causing both Drew and Keith to crack up laughing.

  I forced a smile, uncertain why their reaction rattled me. Was I jealous? I’d always encouraged Keith’s relationship with the boys, so why did I suddenly feel left out? Why was I suddenly desperate to be included in their private boys’ club?

  Keith helped Matt slide the omelet onto a large platter and told him to cut it into four pieces. We all sat at the table and said a blessing before diving into a meal of eggs, bacon, and strawberries.

  Eating this simple meal together was like stepping back in time. I found the whole situation both confusing and alluring. While I warned myself to be careful, I also wanted to hold onto the moment, knowing how rare it was we could all be in the same room without arguing.

  “This is nice,” Drew said, grinning.

  “It is.” Keith winked at me, but I forced a quick smile and looked away.

  After dinner, Keith asked the boys to clean the kitchen so he could have a private conversation with me in the backyard. Matt mumbled some excuse about needing to do homework, but Keith silenced him with a stern look.

  Who was this man who’d come back into my life as perfect as the day I met him? How long would he be like this—all patient and present with our family? At some point, the anger and drinking would return, wouldn’t it?

  I followed Keith outside where Bella promptly brought me the ball, dropping it at my feet and wagging her tail expectantly. Although she’d slowed over the years, she still enjoyed playing fetch and joyfully ran after the ball each time I threw it.

  “Jills,” Keith said, sitting at the table.

  I glanced at him, noting his concerned expression. “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you. Will you, please, sit with me?”

  “All right.” I joined him at the table, taking the chair across from him.

  He turned his cane over in his hands as though gathering his thoughts. “It’s just . . . what happened to us? I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I don’t understand. We were so much in love. How in the world did we wind up divorced?”

  Bella brought me back the ball, and I threw it once again. “I already told you when you were in the hospital, remember?”

  “You said I made things worse by blaming myself for Marcus’s death. I get that. I can’t believe he’s gone, but how did that lead to our divorce? Tell me what I did exactly.”

  Bella returned and plopped down beside me, keeping the ball in her mouth—her way of saying she was done playing. Leaning over, I patted her head, taking comfort in her presence.

  Because I’d left out some of the details regarding our divorce, I’d expected Keith to have more questions, but I wasn’t in the mood to answer them this evening when I was tired and feeling vulnerable.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  I took a deep breath. Opening this painful wound wasn’t going to be easy, but the sooner he knew, the better. “I told you I lost the baby I was carrying when you deployed, but . . .” I blinked away tears, unable to continue.

  “What?” he asked, his voice tender.

  I swallowed. “Losing her wasn’t like losing the other babies.”

  “Because you already knew she was a little girl?”

  I nodded, remembering how happy we’d been when the sonogram revealed we were having a daughter. I’d had my doctor write down the baby’s gender and place it in a sealed envelope that I didn’t open until Keith and I talked on the phone.

  “I was almost twenty weeks when she died.”

  “Oh, Jills.”

  “I lost her on the night of the memorial service for Marcus. Because your unit had been deployed during the funeral, my parents held a service for Marcus at their house when you came home. I wasn’t feeling well that night, so I drove home early with the boys while you stayed.”

  Keith’s brow knit together. “Why would I let you drive yourself home if you were sick? Especially if you were pregnant. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Nothing made sense back then. Marcus was dead, and you were furious with the world. You’d been drinking that night—”

  His jaw clenched, but he didn’t refute my accusation. “Okay. I was drinking, and I let my pregnant wife drive home with two little boys because she wasn’t feeling well. I get it. I was a jerk. So what happened next?”

  I pushed out a breath. “The boys and I went to bed, but around midnight, I started bleeding and cramping. I called your phone, but you didn’t answer. Vicki drove me to the hospital while Bianca stayed with Matt and Drew.”

  “Where was I?”

  “I kept trying to call, but you wouldn’t answer. When I finally got ahold of you, it was Lyla who answered your phone that night.”

  “Lyla?”

  “Lyla Gray, the reporter embedded with your unit. Do you remember her?”

  A flash of recognition lit his eyes and his face paled. “Are you saying I cheated on you with Lyla Gray?”

  I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. You told me nothing happened—”

  “Nothing did happen,” he insisted. “I may not remember, but I know with every cell in my body that I’d never be unfaithful to you.”

  “You always claimed you were just talking—”

  “If that’s what I said, then that’s what happened. I would never cheat on you.” His eyes burned with outrage. “Never.”

  My stomach ached, protesting every part of this conversation. “Regardless, Vicki, not you, held my hand when the baby passed.”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Jills.”

  “Me, too.” My heart broke for him. For us. For everything we’d lost and could never reclaim. We’d been so in love, but that was in the past and best left behind us.

  Chapter 13

  Keith

  That night, I tossed and turned on the thin mattress in the garage apartment. I knew without a doubt I hadn’t been unfaithful to Jillian. I also knew she’d never falsely accuse me of such a thing without reason, so what exactly happened?

  Had I really spent the night with Lyla? Had I been drinking and passed out at her place? I shuddered at the thought, but maybe Dr. Jacobs wasn’t entirely wrong in insisting I had a drinking problem. Still, it was hard to accept.

  In the early morning, between that state of dream world and consciousness, I was consumed by a memory of the day our unit returned from Iraq.

  *

  We were standing outside the airport hangar, waiting to be reunited with our families. Above us hung an enormous sign that read, “Welcome Home, Heroes!”

  Hero? My stomach roiled at the word. How could I be a hero when I’d failed to bring Marcus home? Losing any soldier was a travesty, but Marcus?

  The thought of my nephew Travis growing up without his fat
her tore me to pieces. I could barely look at myself in the mirror. How was I supposed to face Jillian, her parents, and Anna? How was I supposed to tell Travis his father was dead, and it was my fault?

  It wasn’t directly my fault, of course, but I’d failed to help him. Failed to bring him home safely.

  I’d tried to protect Marcus by recommending he be pulled from his squad and assigned to the personal detail for Battalion Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ronald Williams. I thought the position as Williams’s aide would keep the kid safe, but the opposite had happened.

  Rumors surfaced that Marcus had accidentally driven the commander’s vehicle off the secured path. Williams had admitted to violating protocol by traveling with only one soldier from his security detail and the reporter Lyla Gray, but instinct told me there was something more to the story.

  My memory shifted, and I remembered the doors of the hangar opening and the popular song, “American Soldier,” blaring over the loudspeaker. I’d once loved that Toby Keith song, but over time, I’d come to resent it—associating it with too much sentiment and misplaced patriotism.

  Our unit marched forward into the hangar as wives, husbands, parents, and little kids cheered. I immediately spotted Jillian, wearing a blue maternity dress that showed off her baby bump. Matt and Drew stood next to her, looking so much older. They both waved tiny American flags and searched for me in the sea of desert camouflage.

  I locked eyes with Jillian, and although she smiled, her face held an intense sadness that nearly destroyed me. I should’ve come home for her brother’s funeral. She’d begged me over the phone, and Williams had authorized the early leave, but I couldn’t abandon my men. Not after the unexpected loss of Marcus. And especially not after my own suspicions of Williams began to surface.

  The music stopped, followed by the usual patriotic speeches and rounds of applause. The chaplain prayed, and Williams commended us on a job well done. He spoke vaguely about the tragedy that had befallen us and he urged us to stay safe during our coming days off.

  When he released us to our families, laughter and whoops of joy filled the hangar. Matt and Drew reached me first, flinging themselves into my arms. I hugged them tight, squeezing my eyes shut to keep from crying. “You’ve both grown so much.”

  “Drew had his birthday, so he can play baseball like me,” Matt said, as if I didn’t already know about such an important event.

  Despite the heaviness my chest, I grinned and tousled both boys’ hair. “Two baseball players in the family. That’s pretty exciting.”

  Drew shook his head. “Three, Dad. You’re a baseball player, too.”

  “That’s right.” Looking up, I spotted Jillian, making her way through the crowd toward me. She was so incredibly beautiful; I could scarcely breathe. When she smiled . . . everything inside me came undone.

  I straightened and tried to slow my breathing. Tried to fix this moment in my mind, fearing our actual reunion wouldn’t go so well. When she reached me, I pulled her against my chest, vowing never to leave her again. Tears stung my eyes, and embarrassed, I blinked hard, desperate to stop the flood of emotions overwhelming me.

  Jillian felt and smelled amazing. Like soap, shampoo, and everything good in the world. Holding her soothed me more than I’d imagined, and I chastised myself for being apprehensive about seeing her again.

  “Let’s get you home.” Her breath was sweet and warm on my ear.

  Scared my voice would break if I spoke, I simply nodded and hugged her tighter, not ready to let go.

  *

  The memory ended at that point, and I had no idea what happened after we went home. Had I figured out the circumstances surrounding Marcus’s death and why I suspected foul play on the part of Williams? Had that knowledge led me to seek comfort in alcohol and the arms of another woman?

  Whatever happened after I came home hadn’t been good. Obviously, the amnesia was protecting me from the details of how I’d messed up the very best part of my life, but I needed to find a way to remember.

  Pushing off the covers, I sat up in bed. Maybe there was nothing I could do about the past, but I could certainly affect the future.

  Whatever it took, whatever Jillian needed me to do to win her back . . . I would do.

  *

  I spent the morning at the hospital in physical therapy. In the afternoon, I met with Dr. Jacobs before taking the shuttle home. My driver was an older gentleman named Oliver Murphy who’d fought in Vietnam. We talked briefly about our service, but mostly we sat in companionable silence on the short drive home.

  “You take care now, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, pulling into my driveway.

  I thanked him just as my phone rang with a call from Major Mac Baumguard. Although Mac and I had e-mailed a few times, I was hesitant to talk to someone I didn’t remember.

  “What are you doing getting shot stateside?” Mac said. “Couldn’t you stay out of trouble?”

  I laughed awkwardly. “I guess not.”

  “Ah. You did good. At least from what I heard. According to the news, you’re the Hero of Rose Island.”

  “Yeah? What can I say?”

  “So, is it true?” Mac paused. “You’ve got amnesia like a soap opera dude?”

  “That’s what they say, but I don’t really remember.”

  He chuckled. “Good one. Tell me honestly. Do you need me to come hit you over the head to restore your memory?”

  “Could you?”

  We both laughed and off we went, joking and chatting like we’d known each other for years. Which apparently we did even though I didn’t remember him.

  Jillian had been right about Mac being a good friend. We had a lot in common, including a strong sense of duty to God, country, and family. Mac didn’t have kids, but he’d recently proposed to a woman from Rose Island.

  “I’ll have Mercedes send you pictures from the engagement party. Maybe it will jog your memory,” Mac said. “In the meantime, I need a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “I know you’re injured and all, but remember when I helped you with your boat and you said you owed me?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “Well, trust me, you did. I need to redeem that favor now.”

  “Okay. What do you need?”

  “I messed up big time, and Mercedes is livid. Will you call the Daisy Cottage and order a bouquet of flowers? I’d do it myself, but I’m in South America for the next six months. Somewhere between here and Fort Hood I lost my credit card and don’t know when the new one will arrive.”

  “Why are you so eager to send your fiancée flowers?” I asked, hoping the question wasn’t too personal.

  He groaned. “I forgot our anniversary last week.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, and even worse, I called her, but not remembering what day it was, I asked if she could send me more socks and underwear.”

  “Socks and underwear?” I laughed. “That’s hilarious.”

  “I’m glad you find it humorous. The thing is, she’s been angry all week, but I didn’t clue in until this morning. Can you send her the biggest bouquet of roses you can afford? I’ll pay you back.”

  “I’m not worried about that, but aren’t flowers a cliché? Does she even like roses? I know Jillian prefers tulips.”

  “No, my Mercedes likes roses, all right. The more expensive the better. So, will you do it? I know it’s a lot to ask since you don’t even remember me, but I can’t function when she’s mad at me.”

  “I understand.”

  *

  After ordering the flowers for Mac’s fiancée, I fell asleep and didn’t wake until seven that evening. Jillian had already come home from work and left by the time I wandered into the family room to find Matt and Drew eating a frozen pizza in front of the TV.

  Right away, I could tell that Matt was in a foul mood.

  “He had a fight with his girlfriend,” Drew explained. “That’s why he’s so grouchy.”

 
“Shut up,” Matt said.

  “Shut up yourself,” Drew replied.

  I frowned. “Don’t talk to each other like that.”

  Matt glared at me, reminding me of the horrible fights I used to have with my father. I’d vowed never to have that kind of relationship with my own sons, so the scowl on Matt’s face disturbed me.

  I leaned against one of the barstools. “So, what happened with your girlfriend?”

  “Nothing.” Matt buried himself in his phone and something inside me snapped.

  “Put that away. I’m trying to talk to you.”

  He shoved the phone in his pocket. “So talk.”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Drew must’ve sensed my frustration because he asked if I was hungry. “I’m going to heat up another pizza. You can have some if you want.”

  I breathed out slowly and glanced around the messy house. Jillian wouldn’t approve of the boys leaving their shoes and backpacks all over the family room.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “Having dinner with Bryan,” Drew said.

  “Again?” My blood pulsed. “When will she be home?”

  Shrugging, Drew stood and walked into the kitchen where he pulled out another pizza from the freezer. He removed the plastic wrap and threw it away before sticking the pizza in the oven.

  “Don’t you need a pan?” I asked.

  “Naw, that’s the old way. The crust will be crispier if you cook it right on the rack.”

  “I’m going to Hannah’s,” Matt announced, pushing up from the couch.

  I honestly didn’t know which irritated me more: The way Matt told me he was leaving or the fact my wife had left the boys to fend for themselves while she spent another evening with her boyfriend.

  Matt moved toward the front door, but I stopped him. “Are you supposed to go out on a school night?”

  He all but rolled his eyes. “Mom lets me. Besides, it’s for school. We have a history project due.”

  “All right,” I said, unsure if that was the correct response.

  “Hey, Dad,” Drew called, “want to play a game of chess while we wait for the pizza?”

  For Drew’s sake, I said yes. He was obviously trying to appease me, and for that I was grateful.