I Know the Plans

by Melissa Wardwell

  “No, it’s a memory. Just not what I thought you would remember first, that’s all. I guess that means things are healing, right?”

  “I guess so. It is a start. A rather intimate one, but it was a step in the right direction.

  “Can I ask a personal question?” He needed more information.

  “Brad, whether you remember or not, you are still my husband. You can ask whatever you want.”

  “What were we like? I gathered a few ideas from pictures and the items around the house. I just want to hear if I am getting the right idea.”

  Tiffany didn’t answer right away. The longer she took to answer, the more he wanted to know what she was thinking. He hoped she would be real with him, tell him straight what he longed to know.

  The grandfather clock in the hall ticked through the second floor, the knocking indicating the seconds; her hesitance causing tension to build. “Was I a bad husband?” he joked, but the seriousness of her demeanor made him pause. “Hold nothing back, Tiffany. Please.”

  “You were a fantastic husband,” she sighed. “We were a team. We were each other’s rock during the hard times and best friends during the fun times. When you were home, we worked together on different projects all over the area - some even out of state. When you were gone, it was like something was missing.”

  “And now I come back and the man you knew is still gone.”

  The emotion Tiffany held back tugged at his heart. The beauty of what he had with her was ground into the sands of the desert thousands of miles away. Clearly more was taken than just his memories - their life together as they knew it was gone in a flash.

  Maybe I should have died or at least remained missing. Then this amazing woman wouldn’t have the reminder of what once was.

  “How about we finish the tour?” her voice broke through his thoughts.

  Brad stood from his seat and gestured to the door, “After you.”

  The rest of the tour was mundane; only one room caught his attention. Her room.

  The bareness of the room was the first to stand out to him. The walls were a pale pink color. The doors and windows were trimmed in white. An antique armoire stood on the left side of the bed. Its carved details caught his eye. On the other side of the bed sat a short chair covered in a floral print. The worn areas on the arms and back indicated to him that it too was a yard sale find. The dark, wood, side table offered hints of inlayed ivory. Her room was simple and elegant, like its resident, filled with beauty that any fool could see.

  Tiffany began to bustle around the small room, putting items away that he hadn’t noticed when he first stepped into the space. Clothes were scattered around the room, while shoes slipped under the edge of the bed. There was an army throw blanket crumpled on the floor by the chair, and a book on the bottom shelf on the side table. Huh, she’s a bit of a slob.

  She mumbled something about the mess, he chose to ignore it. He was honored that she would show him her private space.

  “So, this is it. Not much to see. If you need me,” she opened a door in the corner of the room. “these stairs lead down to your room. This was once the servants’ quarters, I believe. In your bedroom, we found a door that went to the kitchen. We left it blocked off though.”

  “I wondered how you got into my room that first night. I locked the door to the rest of the house.”

  Her quiet laughter sang a melody that sparked a hint of joy in him. He liked the sound of the sweetness that followed.

  “Yes, I confess, that is how I got in. I knew you locked the main entrances to the suite. You did that before your injury.”

  Her hands flitted about in a hurried, almost nervous excitement. He was unsure what she had to be jittery about until he took in their close proximity in the small room. Being close enough to touch, to smell her fresh linen scent, to see the flecks of the blue color of her captivating eyes - it was enough to make his mouth dry and his hands sweat. He did his best to keep how she affected him hidden, but he knew one day he would fail. One day, he would let curiosity get the better of him and reach for her.

  “Knock, knock! Anyone home?”

  The masculine voice booming through the house made his heart pound in a different rhythm and his body move into an unfamiliar action. Danger lurked and he would defend until that danger was eliminated.

  “Brad. Brad,” her voice called. “It’s okay. It’s my brother and his family. They come over often. It’s okay.”

  Confusion fogged his brain, “What just happened?”

  Her ease at the situation surprised him. “Let’s just say, you do not do surprises very well.”

  She made her way down the hall and to the main stairs; he followed along like a lost puppy. “Have they been here since I got here?”

  “Well, the older kids have been sick this winter, and Ryan started a new job. So no, not really. They didn’t want to get you sick and delay the healing. Emma texted me this morning to see if it was okay.” Tiffany stopped short in the middle of the stairwell and turned to him, “I hope it’s okay. The kids miss you.”

  “Kids? Um, well, yeah. I guess it is fine.” How was he going to handle kids, especially ones that probably don’t understand?

  “Uncle Brad!” a young girl’s excitement called out. Two young men followed behind her. They stopped short, the girl’s eagerness to continue forward into what he guessed would have been a hug, became a bounce in place movement.

  The taller of the boys held a hand out.

  “Hi. Mom says we need to introduce ourselves. I’m Stephen.”

  The next boy held out his hand, “I’m Aaron.”

  The girl was like a bomb about to explode. “I’m Sarah. Can I hug you now?”

  How could he turn down a sweet request?

  “Sure.”

  Tiffany did her best to push back the swell of emotion that threatened to break her at the sight of Brad leaning down to give his niece a hug. Brad’s willingness to step outside of his comfort zone to please a young girl he had no recollection of gave Tiffany even more hope that the man she knew and loved still resided within. There was no doubt that he was slowly making his way back to the family and friends that loved him; back to her.

  Her brother, Ryan stepped toward Brad, his eyes glossy and turning red. She watched as he held his scarred hand out to his hero and best friend. “It is good to see you up and about, man.” Brad took the hand and pumped it with a comfortable shake.

  “I remember you.”

  Tiffany’s heart stopped at his words.

  “You came to visit in the hospital, right?”

  And then it sank to her toes. There was a part of her that wanted to be the first thing in his life that he recalled. Any memory would work.

  “Yes, I did. I came by after you got home as well, but you were pretty out of it.” Ryan told him.

  Brad turned to look at Tiffany, a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve been hearing that a lot, lately.”

  “He looks good,” Emma approached with baby Ami on her hip. Without a thought, Tiffany pulled Emma into a sisterly embrace. Though she had Brad around at all times and Ryder on the occasion, she missed the female companionship.

  “He does. This is his first day without the cane or walker. He even took a tour of the house.” Did she dare verbalize their conversation? “We even had a couple moments that I think he remembered something but he didn’t say much.”

  Then she recalled the memory he had in the hallway. He verbalized that one just enough to cause the heat to rise just a bit. “You’re turning pink, Tiff. What did he remember?”

  There was no way she was telling Emma that one. The teasing glint in her sister-in-law’s eye solidified that. “We are not even sure it was a memory. Anyway, what brings you all by?”

  “Mike called, said we needed to have a meeting. Not sure why, but he might have mentioned that Jill is a basket case right now.” Ryan stepped into the little bit of girl talk she and Emma were having. “Something about her sister, Julie, and then he cu
t out. They’ll be here in a bit.”

  Ah, yes, the drama that is Julie. Jill’s relationship with her younger, more adventurous sister always seemed strained to Tiffany. When they were together, they fought. When they were apart, they fought. It was a never ending cycle that only slowed for brief moments; they loved each other like sisters should. With the wedding only four months away, Jill had to be losing her mind.

  “Maybe we can distract her with wedding talk.” One could only hope.

  “Well, I’ll just go hang out in my room while you all hang out,” Brad remarked as he moved toward the next room.

  “Naw, man. Stay out here. Mike will be more than eager to see you. I know I am eager to hang out for a bit.”

  Brad shifted from one leg to the other, his eyes shifted from Ryan to Emma, then to each of the kids. She wasn’t sure what the issue was, but something was off.

  “Brad, can you come in the library with me? Just for a moment.”

  She indicated the direction and he followed her into the small room just off the living room.

  She took her time closing the pocket doors so that she could gather her thoughts. She had to ask things the right way or he could shut her out completely. When she turned to talk to him, she could see the tension begin to melt off his shoulders.

  “Brad, what’s the matter?”

  He walked to the fireplace on the far wall, resting his hands on the mantle. His back rose and fell as he took big breaths. “I don’t know. I just need to get my bearings back, I guess.”

  “Was it something I said?”

  “No, more like what isn’t being said.” Brad turned to her, “Those people out there know just about everything in my life. The way that guy talks to me, it’s like nothing has happened. Now another guy, who I have no memory of, is coming over so his fiancé can have a meltdown?” He paced the room to the other end and looked out the front window. “They act like nothing happened, Tiffany. But it did. They look at me like, well like you do sometimes.”

  She didn’t want him to feel bad about anything she was doing. If her actions were making him uneasy, she would do her best to stop. “Brad, I don’t …”

  He turned to her, gently cutting her words short with a wave of his hand, “I don’t want you to feel bad. I know you don’t mean to. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.” He closed the gap between them enough to take her hand, “You have the kindest heart. You’re pure and sweet and I know you would never do anything hurtful intentionally.”

  The sincerity in his eyes weakened her knees while increasing her longing to be in his arms again. How she missed being in that protective shell that only Brad could give her.

  “I just don’t know if I can handle it.” Brad let go of her hand and she stopped a whimper that threatened to escape. “I wonder, I wonder if it would have been better if I had stayed missing.”

  Before she could say a word, new voices could be heard in the living room, putting a stop to their conversion and giving Brad ample time to escape from the library and into his room.

  With every step Brad made toward his room, one more crack formed in her heart. The chatter from her friends and family in the next room forced her to push the welling spring of emotion aside. Letting them see her break was the last thing she wanted. She was the tough one, the one who could handle constant deployments and lonely nights. She couldn’t let them see that her resolve was cracking.

  There were days that she wondered what it would be like to be free of all the heartbreak, the turmoil, the never-ending change of plans. It was more than she recalled signing up for. She thought there would be white picket fences and two point five kids running in the yard. The man that she married was going to hold her everyday so that she never felt alone. At least that was what she thought. A husband who had no clue who she was and there definitely were no kids of their own in the backyard.

  “Lord, this was not what I thought this life would be. Why is all of this hell part of your plan?”

  CHAPTER 11

  TIFFANY WATCHED AS Brad grew more distant with each day. He spent many days, now that the weather was warmer, sitting on the back deck looking out over the yard to the river, thinking about who knows what. She would bring him coffee in the mornings, hoping for some conversation. The need to draw him out was becoming more desperate as the days passed by. His eyes were dark rimmed and vacant, his skin was pale, and she caught him napping more. The guys stopped to chat, he only pushed them away.

  Standing in the kitchen, she leaned back against the counter with a coffee mug cupped in her hands. She watched him through the glass wall as he gazed into the wide open space. Brad’s hair moved with wind, bringing to her attention his need for a cut and a good shave. Then again, his rugged look was just as appealing as his clean cut military style. Oh face it, Tiff, he’d look good to you if he was caked in mud and wearing rags.

  For all the effort he might be putting into looking like he didn’t care, Brad had no issue letting her know he hated having Ryder there. Slamming doors, stomping around, even mumbling his dislike for the young contractor-turned-friend left all the marks of a jealous man. Is that why he was moody?

  Just the other night, Ryder stopped by to mow the lawn and finish the deck addition while she was making dinner. She spent the day in pain and feeling alone. A friend was just what she needed at the moment and he came knocking on her door. Brad made it clear he wanted to stay in his room, so she invited Ryder to join her. She let him go on about his band, gigs they had lined up, and the new drummer to join who was a woman. He then told her his time was short, in fact, the band was leaving in another week. In her sadness over losing a friend, Brad had emerged from his hole in time to see Ryder put an arm around her to comfort her. She couldn’t recall what was said, but it was enough to send Brad into a temper tantrum. No words were spoken and no fists flew, just slammed doors and a broken antique lamp that once sat on an end table in the living room.

  Oh well, it was a new day and she had things to get done. She didn’t have the luxury to sit around and wait for him to talk to her.

  Pushing away from the counter, she turned to wash her mug and breakfast plate. The hot water warmed her cold, aching hands. This was just one more thing to talk to the doctor about at her appointment later. Her abdominal pain was becoming more unmanageable. Waiting until Brad was better was no longer an option. It was time to make the choice on her own. It was time to have the broken parts of her removed.

  Not wanting to leave for her appointment without Brad knowing, she made her way to the deck entrance. Walking by the glass wall, she expected to see him still on the deck. When she no longer saw him sitting there, a knot of panic rose as a small voice began to whisper that he walked off; or worse, went over the rail and fell ten or fifteen feet to his death. Opening one of the French doors with a bit of extra force, she stepped outside, hoping it wasn’t as bad as her imagination was telling her. With his recent behavior, she wasn’t sure what else to think.

  She scanned across the acre of trees and grass for any hint of Brad walking around. The leaves on the trees were full in their green glory. The lush lawn was still damp from the morning dew. Crisp air filled her lungs. She spotted her spring bulbs had begun to die off, making room for summer blooms. Surveying the lawn, she had to admit, Ryder was doing a beautiful job keeping the property looking nice for Jill and Mike’s wedding as well as the weekend guests. At last, she spotted him sitting on the bench on the bank of the river.

  As she approached Brad, she was careful to stop a short distance away before calling out to him. Not having talked to him, she wasn’t sure what kind of mood he was in this morning. She had walked up on him one other time since he returned home and he almost tackled her. He zoned out, much like he was doing at the moment, and she startled him.

  “Brad?”

  He did not respond so she called him again; still no answer.

  Bracing herself for the worst, she approached him and touched his shoulder with a shaking hand.
His rapid movement off the bench, flashing eyes, and ready-to-fight stance made her put her hands up ever so slightly to show she was no harm and took a step out of his reach making sure to keep the bench between them.

  “I called out to you, but you seemed to be somewhere else.”

  He shook his head at her words. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” His voice was quiet and hallow. The void of life alarmed her. She took a quick glance around, looking for anything he could hurt himself with, her gaze landing on the river. He hadn’t displayed any suicidal signs lately, but she was taught early on the signs to look for. With his recent aloofness, anything was possible. “I wasn’t thinking of going downriver, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze traveled back to the river. “I’ll be honest, it has crossed my mind, just not today.”

  “Promise me you will talk to someone first.”

  “I’ll try.” Brad turned his back to her and sat back down on the bench. “I just like the quiet here. So, where you off to?"

  “I wanted you to know that I was leaving for a of couple hours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  Something was bothering him, even if he didn’t say it. His sagging shoulders, flat vocal tones, and the hint of sad puppy dog eyes where a Brad’s trademark for telling her one thing, but wanting something else. She walked around the bench to stand in-front of him.

  “Brad?”

  He looked up at her without hesitation this time. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “I guess?”

  The fact that it was a question and not a direct reply bugged her. “Would you rather I stay?” He drove her crazy, but if he needed her, she would change the appointment.