I Know the Plans

by Melissa Wardwell

  “I am sorry, Tiffany. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Her eyes moved over his face, taking in each of his features. The pain in her eyes shifted from heartache to tenderness. The change mesmerized him and rendered him speechless. She was magnificent in her strength to endure the pain and she was breathtaking in her loving care of others.

  She brought her other hand to his chest, the warmth of her touch piercing his heart. This woman had a power over him that felt new and familiar all at once. She should, she’s your wife. Remember? Maybe that was it. His mind could not summon the memories, but his senses could.

  While he remained zeroed in on her eyes and the way she made him feel, he missed the cue that something else was brewing between them. Tiffany, rose on her toes, leaned into his chest, and graced his lips with the sweetest, most reserved kiss. As she backed away, an urgency he had not yet experienced surged through him, he reached for her and pulled her to him. He moved his mouth over hers, fear and excitement prickling his skin. She was intoxicating as she willingly molded to him, meeting each of his moves with her own passionate response. This must have been how they once were. It had to be. There was no other explanation for this instinctual maneuver to transpire.

  What do you know about her? You kiss her like she is an oasis in the desert, but you have no idea where that life giving water comes from. Don’t play with her or you will dry her out completely.

  That was the ice cold water that brought him back to his senses. Brad pushed her back, a whimper escaping her sweet, overly kissed lips. Both of them, struggled to gain a breath. He could not take advantage of her blind love for him. First, he had to figure out what was going on in his head. He wasn’t the man he once was. Shoot, he didn’t even know who that person was.

  “I’m so sorry, Tiffany. That wasn’t fair of me. I can’t, that is, I don’t know….” What could he say? He can’t make promises, at least not the kind she was hoping for.

  Tiffany looked up at him, her fingers covering her mouth, her breathing still rapid in response to their kiss. He was going to destroy this beautiful woman if he was not careful.

  “I don’t know if I can be what I once was, whoever that is. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I don’t want you to think that I remember us; that I am better when I am not. I won’t hurt you like that.”

  He waited for her to say something, but instead she remained still and mute. The walls of the room felt like they were moving in on him and the urgency to run hit him like a flash. Brad reached for the doorknob and retreated from the room as quick as his feet could take him. The fire of her lips was still burning his. He was a coward to run, but he couldn’t stay in this house a minute longer.

  When he reached the top of the ornate staircase, his feet froze. He had no place to go; nowhere to run and hide from her and the feelings she invoked. He couldn’t think at the moment, and he need to do just that. Emotions are irrational and he needed logical thinking.

  Brad paced as he tried to decide what to do. Did he stay? Did he go? He didn’t know the area or the people. He felt like a caged animal. An image of a tiger walking back and forth along a fenced wall burst to mind.

  “Hey, Brad? You okay man?” Ryan’s voice called to him from the base of the stairs. That was his saving grace. He understood what it was like to live a changed life. He wasn’t the man he once was either.

  “Do you have room for an extra person for a little bit?”

  He watched the man in hopeful anticipation as Ryan looked to his left, at his wife, Brad guessed. He imagined the exchanged that passed without too many words spoken. In his mind she said no while Ryan did his best to convince her.

  “Sure. You can come stay for a couple nights.” Ryan’s wife spoke from the other room, her hesitation not missed from her tone. “Just know that there is no quiet, not with four kids around the house.”

  Four kids? That’s right, three teens and a baby. Could he handle having so many people around? The creak of a floorboard grabbed his attention. Turning his head, he saw her, his angel, standing a mere foot away. Her eyes were laced with confusion; confusion he had placed there by his insane need for more than a peck on the lips.

  Making his choice, he began his descent down the stairs and went to his room. “I’ll pack a bag and sleep on your couch. I just need a couple nights.”

  Tiffany followed him to the front door, but froze at the threshold.

  “I just need a couple nights. I hope you understand.” She leaned against the doorframe; soft brown curls framing her angelic face with arms wrapped around her like she was keeping out the cold that wasn’t there. The hopefulness he saw in the morning was now absent from her face. The change twisted the knot in his chest. He couldn’t explain the pull she had on him, but he needed time to figure it out.

  “I will keep the room for you,” she whispered as she took in a breath.

  “See you soon.” He didn’t know what more to say or do, so he turned and made his way to Ryan’s truck.

  As city streets became surrounded by bare fields he took in the peace and quiet the country living offered. He only hoped he found the answers he needed.

  CHAPTER 13

  CHUBBY FINGERS LATCHED on to his calloused hands and the contrast captivated him. The eight-month-old baby he held watched him in wonder, setting his nerves on edge. It was like she saw deep into his soul and was looking for answers, answers he couldn’t give, answers he was searching for himself.

  The weight of her tiny body, the dainty way she rested her hand, and the faint pucker endeared her to him. She was precious. He looked to Ryan and Emma in search of a family resemblance, it was their daughter for goodness sake, but he only saw the resemblance in her eyes. It was a resemblance to those that haunted him, and the reason for his escape to his in-law’s house.

  “What do you think, Uncle Brad?” Ryan’s pride evident as he handed Brad a soft, thin, pink cloth.

  “Put it on your shoulder. She is a spitter.”

  “What does that mean?” The world of babies was clearly new to him.

  “You’ll see. She is a regular drool machine too.”

  Brad looked at the child’s mouth. Sure enough, water poured from her mouth. At that moment, she coughed and sneezed at one time causing her to gag on her saliva. Brad’s only response was to gag with her.

  “Poor thing,” Ryan stated as he took hold of the pink rag and wiped her mouth. “She’s teething, but the running spit kicks her gag reflexes into overdrive. Add to it the pollen in the air, and we have one rough night.” The increasingly fussy baby was making him fidgety.

  “Well, go ahead and take her. I think she wants you anyway,” Brad tried to hand the child to Ryan.

  “No can do, Uncle Brad. I have breakfast duty this morning. She’ll settle down, eventually,” he replied, as he exited to the kitchen.

  Ryan’s laughter bounced off the living room walls as he went to the kitchen. His brother-in-law had just tossed him into the deep end of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in. Brad was beginning to second guess whether or not he liked the man.

  “Wait till you see the diapers,” he stated from the kitchen. “You won’t just gag. Trust me, this is the easy part.”

  Fear and wonderment hit him as she settled. “Please don’t mess all over me, little one. I might not be able to keep it together if you do,” she replied with a rub of her eyes and a yawn.

  Brad cradled the darling child to his chest, sure to have the burp cloth between him and her. The feel of his unshaved chin on her little head made the infant squirm so he readjusted so that she didn’t touch his face. The tranquility that he found in that moment spoke to his heart.

  Taking it all in, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if his restless night was due to the dreams, Tiffany, or the lumpy couch, but Ryan’s oversized recliner and the baby on his chest was the perfect remedy.

  His peaceful nap was interrupted by a thundering echo through the house. Still feeling t
he weight of the baby, he opened his eyes to survey the room not wanting to move too much. That was when he saw the source of the noise.

  Two extremely tall boys and a blond-haired girl made their way past him and into the kitchen. The girl stopped when she saw him.

  “Uncle Brad, what are you doing here?”

  “Sarah, come get your breakfast and leave him alone,” Ryan called to her before Brad could even decide what to tell her.

  “Well, good morning anyway.” She made her way to his side, leaned over him and hugged his neck careful not to bump her sister. “I missed you even though you don’t know who we are.” Her sweet smile brightened her face and she skittered to the other room.

  One of the boys, Stephen he guessed, passed her with a plate of eggs and toast on his hands. Brad waited for the plate to tip when he flopped onto the couch without a care.

  “How are you doing?” Brad asked as the kid shoveled a fork full of eggs in his mouth.

  “Good, considering I have to go to school.”

  “What grade are you in?”

  “I’m a freshman now.”

  Brad searched for a recollection as to what that was. He thought he had an idea but figured he’d ask. “What grade is that?”

  “Oh, right. Um, ninth. I have four years left of school.”

  “Are you the oldest one?”

  “Yeah.” The boy put the fork down.

  Brad watch the boy in amazement as he shoveled his breakfast into his mouth; never stopping for air or a drink of his juice

  “So, can I ask you something?” Stephen asked once he swallowed a rather large mouth full.

  “Sure.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “What? Not remembering?” Stephen nodded his head as he took one more bite. The other boy, Aaron, entered the room, a bowl of cereal in his hand. “Well, it stinks. There are a lot of holes in my memory. Faces, people, names, and even what things are called fail to come to mind.”

  “You don’t even remember being married to Aunt Tiffy?” Sarah asked when she entered the room and sat on the floor in front of him. He seemed to have a captive audience, but the tension went up a notch when Ryan and Emma entered the room.

  “No, Sarah, I do not even remember her or the life I had with her.” The thought of it brought a sharp pain to his heart. He and Tiffany were not the only ones affected by this. The body count of those it hurt was beginning to rise.

  “Will you stay married then?” Aaron asked.

  “Well, that is a bold question,” Brad replied.

  “I’m the bold one who asks what others won’t.”

  The answer made Brad chuckle, “I bet your teachers love having you around. To answer your question, I don’t know.”

  “What do you remember?” Stephen inquired.

  “Walking and talking wasn’t affected. I can pick up simple life habits like cooking easy meals. All I had to do was watch your aunt do it once and I had it.”

  “How long are you staying?” Sarah asked next.

  Unsure what he could say, he looked to Ryan and Emma for a little help.

  “He will be here for a couple nights. If it has to be longer, then we will make the office into a bedroom for him,” Emma chimed in. “Now, go get ready. The bus will be here soon.”

  Sarah got up and kissed him on the cheek. The boys hugged his neck, one shook the chair enough that the baby began to squirm. Emma took the child and the cold air hit him. The empty room weighed heavy on his conscience.

  Having a room full of people who knew him and understood his situation was relaxing. So why did he keep pushing Tiffany away? If she was his wife, he should be holding on to her, shouldn’t he? He felt something for her, but getting too close to her seemed to scare him.

  “Here’s some coffee,” Ryan handed him a mug of steaming liquid. The image of a stick figure kneeling in front of a cross was painted on it caught his attention. The inscription spoke volumes.

  “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.” Judges 6:12

  “Someone made that for me. It typically says something about the armor of God, but they managed to scrub that off and paint that on instead. I think it is more fitting for men in our situations.”

  “It sure looks that way.”

  The verse was small and powerful; it was like someone hit him right in the middle of the forehead with it. The Lord was with him and with Tiffany.

  “I hope the kids weren’t too nosy for you. They have been curious about your condition and we weren’t sure what to tell them.”

  “No problem.”

  The two of them sat, drinking their coffees in silence as the clock ticked.

  “Can I ask what you remember? If not, I understand.”

  “I really only remember what the medical team told me. ‘Found alongside a road, left for dead’ I suppose. Thin, infected, beat up, and broken. Oh, and cannot recall a single loved one.”

  “Not even your parents?”

  “Not even my parents. That bothers me almost as much as not remembering being married to your sister. I will admit, I talk with them more than her. Mom calls every day with small talk. It feels familiar so I don’t mind.”

  “But you can’t seem to recall details of your past?”

  “No.

  “I have had little flashbacks.”

  “Like what?”

  Heat crept up the back of Brad’s neck as the memory came back to mind from the hallway. Was that something he should share?

  “Never mind. The pink color creeping up on your ears is more than I need to really know. It is important though. For you to remember such intimacy shows that it’s all in there. It is also telling as to what kind of marriage you had.”

  “Seriously? You think so?” What kind of couple were they, really? “Were we all over each other all the time?"

  Ryan choked on the coffee he just sipped. “Dude, I don’t even want to guess at that one. You two were close though. I guess you had to be. Your job was high stress and I know you took trips often after you returned home after each tour.

  You two were tight, but you fought like crazy too. I remember one time you two got so mad you started throwing leaves at each other. We thought you two were playing, so we laughed. That was, until she picked up her rake and you proceeded to use the trash bag in some kind of ninja-like move to keep her from hitting you with it. I never did find out what it was all about.”

  As Ryan described the scene, Brad could see it play out in his coffee like a three dimensional movie clip. He saw the leaves flying, her picking up the rake, and him twisting the bag around the garden tool and flipping it from her hands. Tears stained her contorted face. He could feel the exertion in his chest. When Ryan quit talking, a new scene added to his description; Brad holding her in his arms as she screamed into his flannel shirt. The pain of it felt real and raw, like a punch in the chest.

  “A baby,” Brad whispered.

  “Could have been. You two had several miscarriages. Wait, did you just remember that?”

  “Kind of.”

  They sat in amazement at the revelation. Brad knew it was a memory but didn’t want to tell Ryan. Instead he wanted to run to Tiffany and tell her; to ask her if he was right.

  “Do you think you can love her, my sister, again?”

  Could he? He knew he felt something for her. And boy was it strong. Maybe if he just let himself go and face what scared him, it might all come back.

  “You know, it is up to you two what you do. If you separate, you will still be welcome here. You are more than just my sister’s husband. You’re my brother.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “But, can I offer some unsolicited advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Pastor Cross gave me the best tip when I wanted to win my wife over. ‘Woo her again’. So that is what I am going to tell you. I see all the signs of a man who is smitten with a woman. I know you don’t know her, but I see you like her. Get to know her. What could it hurt?”
r />   It was a thought; one that kept coming to mind, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

  “You mean pretend everything is okay when it isn’t?”

  “No, be honest. You two were always good at that.”

  It was worth the try.

  CHAPTER 14

  WHEN EMMA, JILL, and this time, Julie walked into her house four days later to work on invitations and wedding favors, she was instantly bombarded with questions. As the days passed without word from Brad, Tiffany didn’t want to talk about what happened. The wound of rejection still burned in her chest. He walked out and she had to ask herself if it was worth continuing.

  “I just don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do you still love him?” Emma asked as she tied another ribbon on the sachet of candies. Ribbons, netting, and varying bags were scattered on one end of the large dining table. Julie sat on the other end, stuffing envelopes and Jill wrote addresses on them.

  “Well, yes, but the pain of it isn’t going away.”

  “Look at it as a way to get to know him again. It could be fun,” Emma told her. Things were going good for her brother and sister-in-law. After being apart for so long, they managed to find a way to work through Ryan’s difficulties and Emma’s trust issues. Knowing that they found a common ground and seemed to appreciate each other more than before, gave Tiffany a glimmer of hope. “You just need to decide if you want to even try.”

  “A new man, a new set of habits to get acquainted with. It sure would be quite the adventure for you two,” Jill followed. She too had been reunited with her first love, though their time apart had been much longer. Both were independent, and set in their ways yet somehow managed to make time for one another while supporting each of their dreams. Their girls seemed to be over the moon that they would become sisters after being best friends since they were little. “You two could start over.”

  “I don’t know if I have it in me to keep going. It’s too much.” That was when she heard each proverbial brick of excuses begin to bond with the mortar called doubt. She began to build a wall around her heart a little higher with each word. She hadn’t even been aware of how high it had gotten until she noted how quick her emotions about Brad leaving changed. She was detached, emotionless even, as far as Brad was concerned.