Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Millikin

  “I love you so much, Claire.”

  “Mommy, why are you crying?”

  Aubrey pulls back but keeps her arms on Claire’s shoulders. She smiles through her tears, brushes Claire’s hair from her face. “You’re very special. That’s all. And sometimes knowing that overwhelms me.”

  She stands and walks to me. Physically, Aubrey’s the same, but emotionally she’s different. Maybe it’s her energy. She’s looser, calmer. Open. Less like steel and more like silk.

  She puts her hand on my chest. “That goes for you, too. You’re special. And it overwhelms me.”

  I know how hard this is for her. How every word of love fights its way out of her. Declarations come as naturally to her as allowing herself to feel at all. That’s what makes every word she utters meaningful.

  It makes what I’m taking her to see today even more important.

  Lifting her hand from my chest, I kiss her bent fingers. “I need to show you something.”

  She gives me a confused smile. “OK.”

  I turn to Claire. “Can we save the painting for another day?”

  She nods, taking off her smock and dropping it where she stands. She runs over to the bookshelf I set up for her and starts looking through her books.

  “Do I have time to change first?” Aubrey looks down at herself. She’s wearing cotton shorts and a T-shirt, both of which could pass as pajamas, but I happen to know she didn’t sleep in that last night. She wore nothing, and she slept in my arms.

  We smile together, remembering the way our bodies melted into one another. Aubrey is everything I need. Everything I want.

  When she leaves the room to change, I whip up a quick sandwich for Claire. I’ve recently learned that a full belly plus lots of morning activities equals a nap.

  My efforts are rewarded when we’re in the car less than ten minutes and Claire passes out with an open book on her lap.

  Aubrey reaches back, taking the book and placing it beside her car seat.

  “Was that your plan? For her to fall asleep?”

  I laugh. “I ran her ragged this morning. Park, foot races, jumping races. I need her asleep for this. She doesn't need to know what I’m going to tell you. Not yet, anyway.”

  Aubrey sobers when I say that. She straightens in her seat. “Should I be worried?”

  “Not at all. It has nothing to do with you. Or me, really.” I frown. “Well, it does have to do with me, but…” I’m really butchering this. “Everything is fine, OK? I promise.”

  My words do nothing to relieve the worried look on her face.

  She’s quiet.

  “Sixty?”

  She looks at me. Her hair falls in her face, and she brushes it back with her fingers.

  “We’re good.” My assurance’s probably won’t help, but at least I can try.

  She nods, but stays quiet until we arrive.

  The parking lot is empty, like I expected it would be. It’s Sunday, and this is an office building. I park in the middle of the lot, between two rows.

  “Isaac, why are we here?” She looks around, first out my window, then hers, and finally in front.

  The steering wheel supports my forearm as I gaze out the windshield. The building in front of us is impressive. Twisted steel beams, big glass windows, deep green ivy growing up one side. I once read it was ahead of its time. As was its creator.

  I get out of the car, leaving it running for Claire, and walk around to the front. Aubrey follows and stands beside me. I point up at the building. “My dad built this. He was the architect.”

  Aubrey makes a sound, a disbelieving snort. “Your dad is a scientist.”

  I shake my head. Here goes.

  “Not Paul. My real dad.”

  I watch her face as I tell her. Her head moves slowly from side to side.

  “Paul isn’t your real dad?”

  “No. My real dad is a man named Lee Martin.”

  “But… your parents. They’ve been married longer than you’ve been alive.” Her eyes grow wide after she says it.

  “My mom had an affair. Lee Martin was her college sweetheart. He moved away after they graduated and she met my dad. When Lee came back, he called her. And then”—I take Aubrey’s hand—“they had an affair. Which produced me. My mom told Lee everything, and he said he didn’t want a child.” Even old wounds can still bleed, and this one hurts. Aubrey needs to hear this, so I keep going. “My mom wanted me, and Paul wanted my mom. He forgave her, and Lee gave up all parental rights. Paul adopted me, and he’s never been anything but my dad.”

  Aubrey lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That was why I was at the bar the night we met. That was the day my mom told me about Lee Martin.” I tear my gaze from Aubrey and look at the building in front of me. It’s a work of art, a masterpiece of clean lines, cold steel, and glass, all juxtaposed with the earthy warmth of the ivy. It makes me wonder about the person who designed it.

  “I always thought it was a girl who hurt you and sent you there that night.” Her smile is ironic. “Can you believe I was even a teensy bit jealous?” She shakes her head, blinking up at the structure.

  “You were right, technically.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say. Your mom…” Aubrey squeezes her eyes shut. When she opens them, they’re shiny. “I feel so bad for your dad. Paul, I mean. And you, too.” Her fingers drift over my forearm.

  “You can still call him my dad. That’s what he is. And don’t worry about me. I’ve gotten over it.”

  “How?” She makes a face. “I don’t mean that you shouldn’t have. I just feel silly now, knowing all this. It took me until now to forgive my mom for what she did, and I’ve known about it my whole life. How did you go from shock to forgiveness so quickly?”

  “It took some time. That night with you helped. When I heard your story, I realized I wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t anything I did wrong. I watched you leave after our hour—”

  “You watched me go?”

  I feel a twinge of guilt. I hadn’t wanted her to feel embarrassed about the way we’d used each other, so I pretended to be asleep.

  “Our time was up, and when you got out of my bed, I knew you were going to leave. I watched you get dressed. And then you picked up my family picture from a box and looked at it.” I can see it so clearly, her finger tracing the people in the photograph, the light from that night’s full moon illuminating her body. “I realized how lucky I was to have my dad. Someone who wanted me so much he adopted the lovechild of his wife’s affair.”

  Aubrey takes a deep breath. Her eyes follow two quail running across the parking lot. When they disappear into a bush, she murmurs, “I don’t know what to say.”

  I understand that. How long was it before I could form a sentence after I first found out?

  “It’s a lot to take in,” I tell her.

  “Where do we go from here, Isaac?” She blinks up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “That depends on you, Sixty.”

  “Me?” Her eyes show me the fear she feels, but there’s happiness there too.

  I nod once. “I’m all in. Are you?”

  Her eyes roam my face, then her hands follow the trails her eyes just made. I close my eyes and lean into her touch.

  When she says the word, I hear it, but I can’t believe it, so I ask her to say it again.

  “Yes,” she yells, laughing.

  I laugh with her, and pull her face to mine. When my lips slide over hers, I know our hours are finished. The clock is wide open, and I’m going to love her every hour of every day until there are no more hours left.

  Perfection isn’t attainable, I know that now. It doesn’t even exist. But when I look out at the scene in front of me, I know this is the best it could ever be.

  Claire flies up into the air, her knees tucked into her body, and comes back down, sending a wall of water cascading over Isaac. She laughs and swims away. Isaac glides to where I sit on the sec
ond pool step, leaning in to kiss me on the lips.

  “What do you think about giving Claire a little brother or sister?” he murmurs against my cheek.

  “Only if we can spend more than one hour trying,” I whisper.

  Our back door opens, and my dad steps out. Isaac straightens but holds his hand up. I smack his offered high-five and wink.

  “Dad, where’s Cheryl?” I ask as he comes up behind me.

  “In the kitchen. She brought over an appetizer. And a dessert.”

  I smile. He tries to hide it, but I can tell he really likes her. I like her too, and I especially like that he goes hunting a lot less than he used to. I consider it a win from all angles.

  “Hi, John.” Isaac comes out of the pool, dries off, and shakes hands with my dad.

  “Hello, son-in-law.” He claps Isaac on the back, then wipes the pool water off on his shorts. “You two ready for that honeymoon yet?”

  Isaac looks at me. “Maybe soon, but for right now I think we’re just happy to be together in our new place.”

  “You let me know. I’m ready to have Claire back at my house for a few nights. Get in some good Claire Bear time.”

  At this Claire runs over, attaching herself to his leg. When she pulls away, he’s left with a big wet spot on his shorts.

  “Where’s Cheryl?” Claire asks.

  “Let’s go find her,” he says, and they set off through the yard.

  Isaac lowers himself onto the step beside me. “Tonight,” he says quietly.

  “What happens tonight?” I feign innocence.

  “The baby making begins.”

  “The baby making began a long time ago,” I wiggle my eyebrows.

  Sometimes I think about what led me to that night in the cowboy bar. I can see the road that took me there, and easily remember the cracks in my heart that seemed too wide to ever be filled.

  I’ll never forget the day I realized I was fighting a war against someone who didn’t know she’d waged one on me.

  Beneath the surface of the water my hand finds Isaac’s, and I squeeze.

  “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  Fixing me, I want to say, but I know I fixed myself the day I chose forgiveness over anger.

  “For being you,” I say to him.

  “Mommy, Daddy, come inside,” Claire yells. “You should see what Cheryl made for dessert.”

  “Be right there,” Isaac yells back, quickly climbing from the pool.

  I can’t contain my laughter as I follow and wrap a towel around my waist.

  “What? I’m excited to see what Cheryl made.” Isaac hastily runs a towel over himself. “Hurry up, Mrs. Cordova.” Playfully he cuts in front of me as we walk through the pool fence.

  Reaching back for my hand, he pulls me alongside him, and we follow the sound of our daughter’s laughter into our home.

  The End

  Other works by Jennifer Millikin

  Full of Fire

  The Day He Went Away

  Coming Spring 2018

  Magic Minutes (The Time Series Book Two)

  Coming Fall 2018

  Untitled (The Time Series Book Three)

  To be in the know about new releases, receive exclusive sneak peeks, and get

  Full of Fury: A Full of Fire novella for free,

  visit jennifermillikinwrites.com

  and get on the mailing list.

  To Luke;

  From day one you knew my ugly truth, and you’ve spent the past twelve years slowly, sometimes painstakingly, helping me move past it. And when I stumble, you’re either catching me or helping me up.

  To my dad;

  Chevy days were the best days. Thanks for passing on your love of Seger. I’ll never stop checking your lint trap. And thank you, thank you, thank you for that other really big thing you did thirty years ago.

  My soul sister Kristan;

  I love you and your meticulous error-spotting ways.

  To my son;

  You don’t know it, but the five page books you’ve been writing kept me from quitting. When I see your creations, it reminds me that I’m the one who inspired you, and that I need to keep inspiring you.

  To my Village Moms;

  You ladies are amazing. You are mommies, friends, and lady bosses. I admire each and every one of you.

  Readers;

  Where would I be without you? Your encouraging words make the blood, sweat, and tears worthwhile.

  Is it weird to acknowledge my ugly truth?

  Well, I’m going to. It’s OK to be ugly, it’s OK to be scarred, it’s OK to be imperfect. Acknowledging the ugly truth takes away it’s power.

  Jennifer Millikin is a contemporary romance and women's fiction author.

  She has written Full of Fire and The Day He Went Away. Her latest work, Our Finest Hour, is the first in a three-part series.

  To learn more, visit:

  jennifermillikinwrites.com