And I’m so proud of her for tackling such serious issues like alcoholism and sexual assault. She didn’t shy away from such tough topics. Instead, she brought them to the forefront. The stories were drawn from the people in our lives, even if they don’t resemble them exactly. She provided a wide spectrum of characters: gay, straight, black, white, those with disabilities, and those without.
I know it’s her way of keeping her promise to Tim when it came to speaking up about what Ryan did to her. She handed me the episode based on what occurred in his Jeep one night while we were lying in bed. After I read it, I held her until she fell asleep. I never knew the full extent of the attack until then and how much she suffered because of it. And I think she only told me because she knew I couldn’t get to him. I might have gotten better at managing my temper, but it will never be tamed.
It was her way of assuaging her guilt for not being able to go to the cops about it. Ivy didn’t want to put Ben back in Conrad’s line of fire, and neither did I. We both feel a responsibility to protect him now that Tim’s no longer here to watch over him. We thought it best not to disturb a sleeping giant by going after Ryan directly and having any more dealings with the Price family.
Especially since the prosecution wanted to make an example out of Ryan when his trial came up, asking and receiving the maximum five-year sentence for his assault charge. The jury had no problem convicting him when other girls from Glendale High came forward to testify against him. It seems that Ivy and Ben weren’t the only ones he’d set out to victimize. Once it became known that Ryan would be locked up for the foreseeable future, Ben’s spirits started to rally.
I step back and watch him carry a chair out of the back of the U-Haul and into the cabin. He’s sturdy and dependable to the core. The Penn State football team has a bye week this weekend, so he came home to help us move in. He didn’t have to, but he said he wanted to. We’re all glad to see that he’s doing so much better now and how well he adjusted to college life. It’s good to have him back. We certainly miss him around the garden center, no one more than Will, but somehow the two of them are making a go of it. Will even attended a frat party with him as one of his ‘friends.’ They’re still keeping their relationship quiet on account of the jock culture Ben’s immersed in, but I hope that one day they’ll be able to publicly acknowledge what they have together. They better each other, strengthen each other, and if that’s not the meaning of true love, I don’t know what is.
And Will has been a pretty kick-ass godfather. I catch a glimpse of him cradling Natalie in his arms as Ivy runs by him with a box full of baby clothes. I made Ivy stick to our agreement of our Saturday night dates, even though she never wants to leave Natalie’s side. Will helped me convince her by offering to babysit for us during those few precious hours when we get to spend some alone time together. No matter how devoted a mother she’s become, we both need it. Fooling around in my childhood bed with my parents sleeping on the other side of the wall has been a definite buzzkill when it comes to our sex life. It hasn’t been easy living under the same roof, especially considering how loud Ivy can get when I’m doing things to her. Let’s just say the wildlife on those back country roads has gotten an earful from the front seat of my truck on many a Saturday night.
“Are you ready to break for lunch?” my mom asks, lugging over a cooler and a giant picnic basket. “I have fried chicken in here and some coleslaw, two of your favorites.”
“Sounds good, Mom,” I reply, putting down the lamp I was carrying to help her set up. “I know you’re going to miss cooking for a small army.”
“Yeah, but Will will probably be over most nights anyway since he doesn’t have much of a kitchen in that one-room apartment in town,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “And I kind of like having him around. He’s not afraid to pitch in.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid that Ivy and I are more of a hindrance when it comes to preparing meals. You’re better off with Will,” I chuckle as he comes over and starts rooting through Natalie’s diaper bag for her bottle.
“You’re pretty domesticated now yourself, for a former mountain man,” he jokes, unscrewing the lid on the bottle.
“He’ll always be my wild man,” Ivy replies, reaching up to give me a quick peck on the cheek before scooping Natalie out of Will’s arms.
“I could’ve fed her,” Will protests, annoyed at being deprived of his goddaughter’s company.
“I know, but Ben’s only here until tomorrow. So go spend some time with him,” Ivy implores. “I’ve got this.”
“That’s right, old man,” Ben chides, coming up behind him. “Why don’t we take our plates and head down the trail over there. I bet the view is spectacular once you get to the clearing.”
“It is,” my dad concurs, giving him a friendly pat on the arm as he strolls by, grabbing a drumstick out of the container before ripping off a piece for Shep.
“I’ll never get him to eat dog food again, thanks to you,” I grumble good-naturedly.
“That’s okay, because knowing the way Shep watches over her, I think he belongs to Natalie now, and not you, and Natalie will forgive me. Won’t you, Nattie girl?” he coos, tickling her toes and making her smile.
“She is the most pleasant baby I ever saw,” my mom chimes in.
“Isn’t she though?” Ivy grins widely, unable to contain her joy. “She exudes nothing but sweetness and light.”
“I beg to differ,” Will shouts back from the tree line, overhearing us. “Have you ever changed one of her diapers?”
He shakes his head, following Ben into the woods, and we all start cracking up. Natalie has no idea what he just said, but she starts laughing, too. And pretty soon, Shep starts howling for more chicken.
It’s crazy. It’s chaotic. But my heart swells inside my chest because it’s exactly what I always wanted—laughter, family, and a whole lot of love.
***
Even though we’re dead tired from emptying boxes and putting a restless baby to bed, it’s still our first Saturday night in our new home, and I intend to make it one to remember.
I peek over at Natalie fast asleep in her crib next to our bed. She still looks so small nestled against her pink blanket, seemingly swallowed up by it. My heart constricts at how fragile she is, but I know deep within burns a gentle yet determined spirit. She’s beaten the odds, overcoming every obstacle set in her path. She wasn’t expected to crawl at nine months like most other babies do, but she is. She’s kept Ivy and me on our toes as she scampers around with Shep following her every move. He’s curled up at the base of her crib now, keeping watch over her, the two of them having bonded the moment we brought her home from the hospital.
“Is everyone asleep?” Ivy asks, stifling a yawn as she turns out the light in the bathroom.
She’s in one of my t-shirts and nothing else. It falls well below her knees, but it’s white, leaving little to the imagination. I roll off the side of the bed and grab the two wine glasses I have sitting on the end table, tucking the bottle of champagne under my arm.
“Will you join me on the balcony, Mrs. Young?” I bow in front of her, and the glasses clink between my fingers.
“What about Natalie?” Ivy steps past me to look over my shoulder.
“Shep will alert us if she wakes up,” I reassure her. “C’mon. We’ll only be right outside the door.”
“But it’s a strange house, and if she tries to climb out of her crib and we’re not here—” Ivy protests, getting flustered.
“Ivy, has she ever gotten out of her crib?” I question her gently.
“No, but—” she pouts, not wanting to give in.
“After all of the fresh air she got today, she’s out like a light.” I slide open the door that leads out to the balcony, unwilling to take no for an answer.
Our daughter is fine. It just takes Ivy a little longer to realize that sometimes. She’s overprotective because she loves her so much, and it’s up to me to remind her when it’s okay to relax.
The night air feels a tad chilly against my skin, so I grab a blanket off the bed before hoisting Ivy over my shoulder. She shrieks, wriggling against me.
“Shhh,” I warn her. “Don’t wake the baby.”
I slide her down the length of my body, savoring every delectable inch of her before seating her on my lap and wrapping the blanket around us.
“Shall I do the honors?” I tease her, reaching for the handle of the corkscrew I already have in place.
“No, let me,” she jumps in, popping it off, and it comes gushing out. “Quick, give me a glass!” she squeals as the champagne runs down her legs.
She fills both glasses, handing me one as it bubbles and fizzes over the rim. She’s about to take a sip when I lower her hand, causing her to look at me quizzically.
“You know how I feel about alcohol, but tonight I’m willing to make an exception,” she replies, raising an eyebrow in my direction. “I’m allowed. I’m not breastfeeding.”
“That’s not it,” I murmur, my voice deepening as I gaze at her in the glow of the harvest moon. “I want to make a toast. The one I didn’t get to make at our wedding.”
She falls silent, staring at me with those eyes whose pools of green I could so willingly get lost in. I feel so alive, so present. Being near her heightens my senses as I breathe in the soft citrus scent of her hair and exult over the softness of her skin as her bare leg brushes against mine. She’s everything I could ever want. She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
“To broken-down cars and little black dresses.” I watch as the corners of her mouth turn up. “To sex in the greenhouse and more showers together.” This gets her to giggle as she glances up at me through her lashes. “To waking up next to you and making more babies.”
“Eric!” She slides her legs around my waist to look me in the eye. “To us,” she whispers, tapping her glass to mine.
“To us,” I reply, my voice steady and sure.
Because I know without a shadow of a doubt that when life feels this right, you just have to enjoy it.
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Preview of
Heartbeat by Faith Sullivan
Katie and Adam are afraid of love.
She carries the scars of a first kiss gone terribly wrong.
He uproots his life to flee the stinging betrayal of an ex.
When trust is no longer an option, all romance is suspect.
As a young paramedic, Adam rescues people for a living but cannot save himself. Katie, just out of high school, struggles with a tortured home life she cannot escape.
Everything changes when Katie hops into the front seat of Adam's ambulance. Overwhelmed by what they are feeling, neither possess the confidence to make the first move. They walk away from each other, full of regret.
To find her, Adam risks his future. To be with him, Katie sacrifices her security.
Little do they know, what little time they do have, is being measured by a heartbeat that is slowly dying out.
Chapter One
Katie
CRASH!
The force of the impact is jarring, but it doesn’t completely startle me. A split second before the SUV hurtles into Grandma’s driver’s side door, I catch a glimpse of it in my peripheral vision. Grandma isn’t so lucky.
“Are you okay?” I gasp.
“I think so,” she says, moving to unfasten her seat belt.
The driver of the SUV is already outside of his vehicle inspecting the damage. It is a miracle Grandma isn’t trapped behind the steering wheel. She is able to open her dented car door. She struggles to stand, wincing in pain. The passenger in the SUV is already on his cell phone, probably calling 911.
I don’t want to get out of the car. It is a February afternoon. The temperature is hovering in the teens. The wind is whipping through the movie theater parking lot as snow flurries begin to fall. I crouch down in my seat. Why did this have to happen? I don’t want to deal with a guy who drives like Rambo, taking down every elderly woman in his path. Maybe if I close my eyes, it will all go away.
A speeding police car with lights flashing arrives on the scene. Do they really need to make such an entrance? They probably just left the donut shop down the road. No need to give in to the sugar rush.
Grandma slowly sits back in her seat as Rambo’s father comes over to our car.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” he asks.
“I don’t know…I’m awfully sore,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.
“It’s not a good idea for you to be moving around. Why don’t you just sit back and stay as still as you can. The police are here now. Let me go and talk to them,” he says.
He strides into the wind head-on as his son bends down to analyze the damage to his front fender. Really? He can’t even come over and see if the old lady he hit is okay? He has to send his dad? Way to be a man.
I lean forward and open the glove compartment to find the insurance information and registration card.
“Here comes someone now. Are you able to roll down the window, Grandma?” I ask.
“I think so…let me see,” she says, hitting the power button.
“How are you doing, ladies? Anyone seriously hurt?” asks a female police officer, her blonde curly hair blowing around her head like a tornado as the wind begins to increase.
“Well, I feel a little banged up,” Grandma replies.
“Look straight ahead, and keep your head against the headrest. Do not move a muscle. I don’t even want to know what happened. We’re going to give you an incident report that you can fill out later and drop off at the station next week. For now, just sit tight until the ambulance arrives,” the officer says with practiced authority.
“I don’t think I need an ambulance,” Grandma says.
“Grandma, it’s better if you go and get checked out at the hospital. Just to be sure,” I insist.
“Listen to your granddaughter. We’ll all feel better if you let them examine you,” the officer responds.
“Okay, if you think it’s necessary,” Grandma sighs.
“Try to relax. I’m going to talk with the other driver. Remember, don’t move,” the officer commands.
“Yes, officer,” Grandma replies meekly.
“Well, I guess they don’t want our paperwork,” I grumble. What a mess. We just wanted to get out and enjoy a movie without having it end in disaster.
It is the first time in a week that I have left the house. I’m still a little weak after what seemed like a never-ending bout with the flu. Last weekend, I was in the emergency room sick as a dog. Looks like this weekend is going to be more of the same. Except this time, I won’t be the patient.
This wouldn’t have happened if I had been driving. But the wind was so fierce that Grandma didn’t want me getting sick again. So she told me to wait at the entrance of the theater and she would pick me up. I ran from the theater entrance to the car, yet I still felt chilled to the bone. I didn’t notice anything amiss with Grandma. Everything seemed fine, until she plowed through an intersection without stopping. That’s all it took to land us in this predicament.
I look up as the ambulance pulls into the parking lot.
A lanky guy with scruffy blonde hair and a face full of stubble jumps out…without a jacket…wearing short sleeves. Is he crazy? We’re practically living on an ice planet, and he’s dressed like it’s a summer day. And he’s going to be the one taking care of my grandmother? I think he’s the one who needs to get his head examined.
I watch him through the windshield as he follows his two older co-workers over to the police. Snowflakes stick to the black shirt of his uniform.
Great, they have some crazy guy who doesn’t look much older than me running the show. Perfect.
Luckily, one of the other paramedics approaches our car. He gently opens the door and looks at Grandma. He must see a lot of horrific things in his line of work. At least in this case there’s no blood or massive injuries.
“Hi, my name is Charlie, and I’m going to be taking care of you,” he says, with a smile.
Grandma nods.
“Oh, now don’t go moving on me. I need you to stay nice and still while I examine you,” he says in a soothing voice as he looks into her eyes with a mini flashlight. “Everything seems fine, but as a precaution, I’m going to put this neck brace on you. Then we’re going to put you on the stretcher and take you to the hospital.”
As Grandma is awkwardly fitted with the brace, I glance over at Mr. Short Sleeves. He’s not even shivering.
Chapter Two
Adam
Just another endless day on the job…these twelve-hour shifts are murder. How much longer until I can go home?
The clock on the ambulance dashboard reads 4:03 p.m.
Great, two more hours… I don’t mind when we’re busy, but sitting around a gas station parking lot isn’t exactly what I signed up for.
A call comes through the speakers interrupting my inner gripe session. “We have a two-vehicle crash in the parking lot of Crown Theater off Maria Boulevard. Closest unit please respond.”
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