by L. U. Ann
With my entire body collapsed on the floor, my mind continues to stir. I do not know how to let either of them go. How could Devon survive a crash such as that? It hurts too much to know I have lost them. My heart feels as if it has been run over, chewed up, and spit back out. Why are they dead? Why was my father incompetent in getting her help? Why can I not have Devon? What did I do to have them taken away? Please bring them back. I really want my mom right now.
And, I want my husband so bad it hurts. The nagging ache of never seeing them again is too much to grip. How am I supposed to move on? My baby boy needs Devon. He finally had a great dad who loved and cherished him. Evan deserves it and so much more. Closing my eyes, I realize I have taken yet another thing away from my son.
Two and a Half
“What are you talking about?” I ask, wondering what the crazy lady is trying to start now.
“You stole my son. You have lied to him and told him this was his child to trap him. He needs to have a blood test as soon as possible on that baby, and then he’ll know exactly what type of tramp you are.” My hand flies to cover my mouth. Troubled and hurt by her words, I sit on the edge of the bed I sometimes share with Caine. When he wants to be home.
“You have asked this question too many times, Julie. Three strikes and you’re out. I don’t want you here when my baby is born. In fact, why would you even want to be here if you don’t think it’s Caines? Do you want the satisfaction of looking for recognizable features? If you do, you’re not in luck, lady, because I’m done with you. You are not welcome here or in my child’s life.” I slam the phone down. It most likely won’t be an issue anyway. Caine probably won’t be here either. He wants to leave us. I run my hand over my growing mid-section. We aren’t good enough for him. What am I going to do?
I throw myself back on the bed and allow the tears to seep down the side of my face.
I hate his mother, and Caine won’t let me see my family. Where do I go from here?
“If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results.”
~Jack Dixon
I awaken to incessant banging where moments earlier I thought I was dreaming. Who could it possibly be? Oh, my God, what if it’s Caine? What if he’s trying to take Evan again? With my heart in my throat, I quickly jump to my feet immediately double-checking the lock before I take an extra second to look through the peephole. Becca and Lane!
“What are you guys doing here?” I cry in question while my hand rises to my chest trying to steady my pounding heart from their unexpected arrival and demand for me to answer.
“You need to get dressed,” Lane answers as she lays a hand over her growing midsection. The two uninvited guests blatantly barge their way inside my cocoon. Conscious of where I passed out last night, I quickly move to pick up the throw blankets and the sheets from the cottage bunched on the family room rug.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I throw the blankets into the wicker storage bench. Confused by the demanding visit, I retort, “I don’t need to go anywhere.”
“For the love of God,” Becca booms, “Lacey, you need to listen to me.” She walks toward me with hard drawn eyes and a tight jaw. She is definitely irritated with my confusion. My heart slams into the back of my ribcage as she continues. “Do what your sister said, NOW!” Motionless from a state of alarm that we have lost someone else close to us, I blankly stare with thoughts screaming, but unable to utter one.
Except...
“Grandma Pain?” Tears pool from my well of emotions fearing her answer. Oh, no. What if Devon’s body was found? Shit, I think I am going to throw up.
“No, love. Come here.” Becca commands, grabbing me by the hand and leading me to the bedroom I have been unable to enter since my return last night. Panic immediately threatens to take over making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. There was no way I was sleeping in there. I will most likely crash on the sofa or with Evan in his oversized bed from now on.
“Here. Throw this on and I’ll get your shoes.” She aimlessly searches for a matching pair. “Dammit, Lacey! No wonder you always have those domestic blind moments. Is anything in this closet organized?” If I possessed the ability to roll my eyes, now would be perfect. Just like old times.
“I don’t understand,” I quip, watching hands launch every which way in unison with her intrusive speech. All the while, she is adorning a simple blue cotton dress and sandals. Trying not to think about what might be going on, I concentrate on miniscule, concrete things.
She grabs a pair of flip-flops, a hair tie, and reaches for my arm dragging me from behind toward the front door. We pass an exhausted Lane looking quizzically at my answering machine. “What is it?” I ask. She looks up startled from her thoughts.
“What?” Pause. “Nothing, uh… you had messages on your answering machine, and I thought would write down anything worth keeping.” She finally looks up. “Aunt Paula called.”
“Is everything okay?” Lane’s expression is unrecognizable. The pregnancy has taken its toll on her, and I’m sure she’s really tired. “What did she want?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry. It’s fine. Sounds like she stopped taking her meds again.” She rolls her eyes. Please, Lord, do not let that be the case. Fall is approaching and with it comes her mood cycles. Why can she not see how bad she needs them? Especially when it’s clear to everyone around.
“I can’t talk to her right now.” I shake my head as Becca pipes up for us to go.
“Wait!” I fumbled in panic. “I need to give Evan a kiss,” I plead, barely able to catch my breath.
“Hurry!” Becca and Lane object in unison making me jump out of my skin.
Tiptoeing into his bedroom, I quickly bend over and kiss his precious head. “Bye, Sweet Pea. I love you,” whispering to his peaceful sleeping body.
“Come on, Lacey! Lane’s going to take good care of him. Let’s go!” Becca yells in a whisper. Seriously, does she not understand what it means to talk in a regular voice?
“I don’t know what is going on. Where are we going?” I speak directly to each with tears falling. “Is Caine coming here? I cannot leave if Caine is coming for Evan. I have to protect him.” I pause, waiting for an answer from either of them. When they do not reply, I look to my sister for answers. “Lane?”
“Lacey, I truly wish you would just shut the fuck up sometimes. I assure you there is a valid reason for me yanking your sorry ass out so early. Shut your trap and only wait,” Becca finishes, pulling me out and onto the landing. On that note, it is probably best for me to keep quiet. I slip into my flip-flops thankful they match. I cannot believe I am going out looking like this. I shake my head, and pull my hair up into a ponytail as we walk to the car. What the hell did Aunt Paula want, and why does Lane think she’s off her meds again? I swear, if that woman shows up on my doorstep unannounced, I’m going to go crazy. I have enough going on and need to focus on Evan. He may have lost the best thing he could have as a dad. I toss her out of my mind for now.
The cool morning air tingles my skin erupting a shiver. I could use some coffee before she whips me off on a crazy adventure that I have no interest in participating. How do I get out and escape this charade? Since Lane was there, that must mean it is a valid reason. However, what excuse is good enough to have us traipsing out at this ungodly hour?
Becca drives like a bat out of hell. While I pray she will not kill me, thoughts revert to last night. I don’t remember grabbing the throw blankets. How did they get there? Was I that out of it? What if Evan woke up and I was no longer coherent? How can a mom be so irresponsible? I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest. I do not know how many minutes pass, but I give into Becca’s scheme and glance in her direction. The music is blaring, she is chewing a mouth full of bubble gum, and she is bobbing to the beat. Yeah, Becca is in her natural state.
I shake my head as I turn away. A sign comes into view. “Becca! Why are we headed toward the a
irport?” I look at her in absolute confusion. “There is no way in hell I’m getting on a fucking plane. Start talking now!” I demand with tears of fear threatening. If I never see another plane again, it will be too soon. I cannot face it, I just can’t. The knots in my stomach tighten. It is too much to handle right now. I think I am going to be sick.
She ignores me, not even smirking. Bitch!
I scoot forward, looking around for a sign of what we are doing, where we are going, and any possible idea of what the hell is going on. The early morning sun blinds my vision, but I know we are heading straight for the airport.
“What’s going on?” My chin actively quivers begging Becca to tell me. “I can’t go. Please turn around and take me home to Evan.” I throw my head into my hands and let go of my tears. “It’s too much, Becca.” I weep softly.
She reaches over and grabs ahold of my hand. “Love, just be patient. For once, do as I say. You won’t regret it.” She pauses. “I promise.” She stops the car at Arrivals. I glance around at the people loading luggage into trunks. Benches are sporadically occupied. It’s still too early for an airport such as this to have many people milling and bustling about. “Get out,” she hammers ejecting my wondering thoughts.
“What?” I ask in disarray.
“Lacey!” She screams. Fine. I will do as she says because she is clearly not in her right mind. Running around the car, she grabs my arm causing me to gallop in order to keep up. She pushes me through automatic doors yelling at the innocent mechanics to hurry up and we enter the airport.
Looking around for a clue, my eyes lock and I freeze. “Ryan?” I ask as I pause the continued pursuit. “What the hell are you doing here?” His confused expression sends my blood raging within. Attempting to control my shakiness, I notice Mr. and Mrs. Holmes disheveled appearance. “Will somebody PLEASE tell me what the fuck is going on?” I shout, pulling my arm out of Becca’s hold. Looking around for answers that they aren’t giving me, my heart stops in time as my eyes lock on another’s soft and glimmering stare. My heart sinks, expression gone, frightened by a possible mirage. Am I dreaming? Becca would not bring me here if it weren’t true. Would she? No, reality of the abrupt departure, Lane’s push to follow Becca, and the fact that his parents and Ryan are here sets in. My hand flies to my mouth, my heart tries reviving a steady beat, and my brain begs my feet to move. All of this with one purpose in mind.
Bound on a binge of pure relief, I chant, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” My feet effortlessly carry me toward the reason why I was unwillingly forced out of my apartment and away from Evan. Militant Becca and her army of one, Lane, knew about this.
“DEVON!” I scream parting stranded bodies.
Clouds dissipate tickling earth with sunlight from days of gloom. Today is a new day that is giving birth to possibilities. “Devon, baby.” Delirious, I straddle the wheelchair gently placing his handsome face in my trembling hands looking into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Is it truly you?” I whisper, too scared to learn an answer other than the one I am so hopeful to hear.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s me,” he says, as I throw my arms around him, nestling into the crook of his neck and letting go of the fear I’ve lived with for six days. My heart is full. His one arm snakes around my back, and we hold each other not allowing the moment to escape us. Sobbing messes, we unconsciously delete the world around.
Thank you, God... Thank you so very much... Thank you for bringing my Devon back to me. I internally cry.
Realization makes its torturous dawning that I could be hurting him. Stepping backward, I squat to inspect his haggard appearance. His shining cheeks and rejuvenated eyes remain on me while I take in his bruised and battered body. “I don’t understand. How?” I ask, rubbing his abrasive-free hand between mine and bringing it to my lips.
“Sugar Pants,” a laugh escapes me as I drop my face into his lap and continue to cry happy, grateful tears. “Lacey, I love you so much. I’m sorry I left.” He utters, full of emotion, as the outdoor woodsman smell dominates my senses. It is too much to comprehend.
I close my eyes and pull back. “I cannot believe you are here. I thought you were gone.” I whisper, fingers clutching his shirt. “I don’t ever want to let you go. I’m scared you’re going to vanish.” Moisture stains my cheeks. If I opened my eyes now, I would never be able to see through the tears. “I love you,” I cry. “Devon, I love you so much it hurts. I thought you were gone forever.” I diffidently pause, gasping for air. The uncontrollable elation has taken over my mind, body, and soul. “I am homeless without you.”
He runs his free hand down the side of my face. Fingers linger, and my head leans into them embellishing in the comfort of his miraculous return. Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus! Saying thank you will never be enough.
“Sweetheart, come here,” Devon rasps igniting an ache to feel his soft lips from deprivation. Our reunion is on such an emotional level that intimate contact does not take immediate precedence until now. Fingers I have longed to feel once more move to the back of my head, threading my hair and placing just enough pressure to encourage the crash of our lips. Volcanic ash erupts within, sending blistering heat throughout, fulfilling the gaping hole of my grieving soul.
“All right, come along. I know you two have a lot of catching up to do, but we are going to the hospital first!” Mr. Holmes states matter-of-factly.
Reluctantly, I pull back with my eyes fixed on his in watery adoration. “Dad,” Devon howls as if in pain. Not physically, no this is a deep impassioned pain.
“Don’t dad me. You have only been to a clinic. We’re going to the hospital and that’s final.” Rolling his eyes, Devon brings my hand to his lips just a moment before they twitch with amusement.
Heat surfaces, my cheeks flush, and I bite my lip hoping I can stop the lightheadedness, stammering heart, and rush of breath as it dawns on me that everyone is witnessing our reunion.
Hand in hand, I stride desperately alongside him to the waiting car. Stopping for everyone to embrace and speak to Devon, the guy pushing his wheelchair begins spewing instructions on how to maneuver his body into the car. Deep within my euphoria, I helplessly try to listen. I still cannot believe he’s here!
After Devon is settled, I greedily take up the spot next to him. We savor the moment in silence drowning in each other’s gaze. There are so many unspoken words, but our touch, our gaze overpowers meaningless words. The intense love deep in his eyes captivates my mind. I draw my fingers along his unshaven face. Even without showering for days, he is absolutely gorgeous.
He gently closes his droopy eyes after I mouth the words ‘I love you.’ An awakening pain resides behind his lids. I am not sure if it is emotional or physical, possibly a combination of both. With a car full of chatter, I find it hard to concentrate solely on Devon. Ryan is arguing with his mom about getting out of the military. “Mom, I’m sick and tired of being away from my family. I have no desire to stay in for my twenty,” he lashes. Their conversations continue as Devon and I cannot keep our eyes off each other.
The car brakes as it lurches us forward. We have stopped in front of the entrance of John Hopkins Emergency room. Of course, we are at this hospital. A doctor greets the car. “Well, hello, Mr. Holmes. I heard you’d been through quite an ordeal.” Not knowing what to do, I allow the doctor and the man from the airport to manipulate Devon into another wheelchair. Why is he in another wheelchair? Can he not walk or is it protocol? Oh, my God, how injured is he? I have not even asked if he is going to be okay. And, oh, shit, I left Becca at the airport! I am a horrible friend. I make a mental note to call Becca as soon as I can.
Wiping my tear stained cheeks, I eagerly step around Mr. and Mrs. Holmes to reach Devon’s waiting hand. The doctor has taken over driving the wheelchair while throwing question after question out at the guy I don’t know. X-rays taken, blood pressure good, concussion, broken arm, leg pain… my mind cannot keep up with their exchange.
With coordinated steps,
the doctor takes Devon through the doors blasting the familiar stale stench known only in hospitals. A ride down to the basement, we follow long hallways like lab rats before he abruptly stops telling us to wait here. I glance down at Devon and he nods. My hand cups the side of his head. “I love you.” After a tight smile, he is gone, carrying my heart with him.
Right away, I turn around seeking answers from my in-laws. “What happened?” I shout null and void of volume. “How long have you known?” Fury in my eyes, balled fists and blushed skin, I continue asking questions I shouldn’t need to ask. “Why didn’t anyone tell me my husband was alive? Don’t you see I have been dying inside?” I scream, bending over as I slam my fist into my chest to calm the pounding rage. I am angry and don’t care about attracting attention from bystanders. I could care less about the scene I am creating right now. “Is he going to be okay?” I stand straighter. “Am I going to lose him again?” Uncertainty has me throwing my face into my hands from fear and exhaustion. “Please, tell me what’s going on. I can’t take losing the love of my life again.” I cry gaining strength to pick up my head and ball my fists again. Deftly, I allow Ryan to wrap his arms around me.
“Lacey, please calm down.” His hands rub my back. “We think he’s going to be okay. They are taking him back for an MRI.”
“Sweetheart, we weren’t keeping anything from you.” Mrs. Holmes takes over to hug my now limp body. “We found out moments before his plane took off. Devon called needing his dad to purchase a flight back to Maryland because he had nothing on him. His wallet is somewhere up on that mountain. We were able to talk to him for a few minutes. Sweetie, he has been trying to get home to you the entire time. He begged us to wait until he was almost home knowing you would protest him getting on another plane. All he has wanted to do was get home to you as quick as possible.” I loosen my grip and lift my head to watch her speak. “He made it, honey. Try not to be so sad.”