“I doubt that.”
I stand up and we walk over to Brooke and Brice. Max looks at me with concern; I smile. He doesn’t want me to lift anything heavy. I have been carrying James around in my belly for nine months; carrying him in my arms is no different. Well, it is different; it’s much easier. Brice looks over at the baby and smiles.
“We need to get these guys fed and bathed. Emma, you look great and call if you need anything. Greyson, count your blessings that your son got his looks from Emma and not from you.” Brice laughs as he opens the door for his family.
“I know that’s right. I’ll see you tomorrow and thank you both,” Max says with his hand on the doorknob.
“No problem, see you later.”
I feed and change the baby before Max and I eat supper. Brooke set the table and even placed white taper candles in the center. Max and I talk about him being home for the next two weeks and about my parents coming up for a visit for five days and his parents coming up for another five days the following week. Thankfully, they won’t be here at the same time. This house isn’t big enough for the seven of us.
Over the next few days, Max and I stay home and try to get a routine down as a family. James is a good baby, as I knew he would be. Max is so calm and patient, I was hoping James would get that gene. I, on the other hand, worry about everything. I was a nervous child, and I am a nervous adult. I do know some things will never change, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.
I breastfeed James for every feeding and Max sits close. I know he wants to be a part of it. I started using the breast pump his mother got me, so Max can now feed James and James doesn’t miss out on the nutrients of breast milk. Max holds him and watches him closely. We have a camera that we keep out for moments like these.
“What are you doing?” Max smiles and blinks several times.
“I’m sorry, I want to get a picture of you feeding James.”
“I understand that, but don’t you think you have enough pictures?”
“No, you can never have too many pictures. Besides, he is growing every day, I don’t want to miss anything.”
Max removes the empty bottle from James’ mouth and puts him on his shoulder to burp him. “You’re changing this diaper,” Max says, laughing.
We have quickly learned that James poops after every feeding.
“Ok, but you get the next one.”
I stand and walk the short distance to the Pack ’n Play where the extra diapers and baby wipes are stored. I collect what I need for a diaper change and go back over to sit beside Max. I watch how gently he handles James. Nothing like the rough and tough soldier he is trained to be.
“What are you smiling at?”
I blink a few times and look up at Max’s sweet face. “I was just thinking about how gentle you are with him.” I smile and watch as Max continues to burp James. “If you are this soft as a soldier, I think you are in big trouble.”
“Soft? Who are you calling soft?” he says, laughing.
I laugh, too. “I didn’t mean for that to come out like it sounded.”
“Here, I think he’s done and I definitely think his diaper needs changed.” Max kisses our son and hands him to me. “Soft, huh? I think this is a conversation that needs to remain between us.”
I take the baby from Max. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” I kiss James and lay out his changing mat so I can change him.
“A soft soldier is definitely a bad thing.” He shakes his head and walks away.
I wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. I walk down the hall and into the nursery to find Max asleep in the overstuffed rocker with a sleeping baby tucked safely in his arms. I smile and walk back into the bedroom to get the camera. The lamp is on and I pray that is enough light so I won’t need a flash. After I snap several pictures, I pick up the baby and place him back into his crib. Max wakes up and watches me. He stands beside the crib and lightly touches James’ small cheek.
“Come on, momma. Let’s go to bed.”
I look up and smile at Max. He has never called me mom, mommy, or momma before. He places his large hand on my waist and leads me out of the room. He lifts the covers for me to climb under. I do, then wait for Max to get into bed so I can curl up beside him. I snuggle into him and he wraps his arms securely around me.
“Thank you,” he says while gently caressing my earlobe.
I don’t move my head but ask, “For what?”
“For giving me everything I have ever wanted. For making my life complete.”
“James has made your life complete?” I ask, smiling into his chest.
“Well, I have always thought my life was complete with just you, but he adds to it.” Max kisses my head and holds me tighter.
“He is pretty sweet, isn’t he?” I ask as I draw the infinity symbol onto his bare chest.
“Yes, he is. Who knew what we were missing out on? Emma, when I get back from my deployment we should try to have another baby.”
Max and his platoon are scheduled for deployment overseas in another six months. “Max, I don’t want to talk or think about that.”
“Ok, I’m sorry.”
The next few days are filled up with my parents coming in to see their grandson and to also help Max and me out. To my surprise, Max and I have adjusted very well into a routine. James is an extremely good baby. I haven’t needed to fix dinner since we came home from the hospital. The guys in Max’s platoon and their wives have been taking turns making us dinner and bringing it over every night. I guess they decided that would be the easiest and the fairest way for everyone to meet James. They bring dinner and stay for an hour or so visiting. It’s been wonderful seeing everyone and it hasn’t been too overwhelming, since they have been taking turns.
“Emma, I think he looks like you when you were born,” my dad says, smiling.
Max clears his throat and smiles at my dad.
“Oh, yeah, I can see some of Max in him, too,” my dad says, while focusing solely on James. “I think he has your chin, Max.”
“The dimple in James’ chin definitely came from me.” Max beams.
My mom takes James from my dad. James also has Max’s nose and his deep-set eyes. I look up at Max — he is standing proud. He walks to and stands over my mom. I have to smile at how proud he is knowing his son resembles him.
“He has Emma’s blond hair, mouth, and ears,” Max says seriously. He bends down and touches James’ cheek. “I love Emma’s soft blond hair, her full lips, and small ears. He looks so much like his mother, thank God.”
“He is a beautiful baby and he looks like the both of you. The dimple in his chin certainly comes from you, Max,” my mother says while repositioning James on her lap.
“Well, if any of you ask me, James has his own look and it’s a very handsome look, at that.” I walk over and pick up James from my mother’s lap. “It’s time for him to lie in his own bed. You all will have him so spoiled, he’ll never want to sleep alone again.”
I walk the short distance to the bassinet and lay him on his back in it.
My mother stands up and laughs, “Who wants a spice cake for dessert?”
“From scratch?” my father asks with a knowing look on his face. My mother always bakes from scratch.
“Of course, Gene. When have you known me to open a box to bake from?”
“Never, but since we aren’t home, I wasn’t sure.”
“Well, if they don’t have what I need, we’ll go to the commissary to get it.”
My dad stands with my mom and they walk hand in hand towards the kitchen.
“Gene, don’t get too caught up with that spice cake. We have a train set to put together.” Max looks at the large box leaning against the wall.
“Let’s make sure Millie has the ingredients for the spice cake and then we’ll put the train set together.”
“Ok, I can appreciate that,” Max says.
Max
Gene and I sit in the cent
er of the living room floor looking at the picture of the train set on the very large box it came in. We have a tool box out with miscellaneous tools lying around us. The house is smelling of spice cake and the sound of baby noises fills the otherwise quiet space. I look around and see Millie and Emma cooing at James. This is my life and I couldn’t be happier. I look over at Gene, who is looking frustrated.
“I think you should be reading the instructions and not looking at the picture,” Millie says.
“Millie, how many of these have you put together?” Gene asks, looking up from the train set.
“None, but I have seen you put several together and you always look at the picture first, then after several hours you decide to read the instructions. I just thought I would offer you some advice that will eventually save you some time.”
“Thank you, but this is how real guys do it, huh, Max?” Gene says, smiling.
“I’m afraid so, Millie. This is how my dad did it and this is how my granddad did it. It must be the right way.”
The timer on the oven goes off and Millie stands up to remove the cake from the oven. “Ok, have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
“Don’t worry,” Gene says, laughing.
Millie walks out of the room towards the kitchen.
“Dad, you know she’s right. You always look at the picture first, then you have to read the instructions to complete the project.”
“I know, honey, but I’m not ready to admit defeat. Max, you read the instructions and don’t let Millie see you.” We all laugh and Millie walks back into the room.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. How’s the cake look?” Gene asks.
“It looks as good as it smells,” Millie boasts.
“Em, I need you to get that recipe from your mom before she leaves.”
“I already have it, but mine never comes out like hers.”
“I need you to get it right before she leaves, then.”
Later that night we have dinner and dessert. While Millie and Emma bathe James, Gene and I read the instructions to the train set behind their backs. Slowly we get the right pieces into the right places. It would go a lot faster if we didn’t hide our reading the instructions from Millie, but Gene is determined to not admit defeat to Millie. I don’t understand what the big deal is, but Gene tells me one day I’ll understand.
During the rest of the week, Gene and I get the train set together. The plan is that Gene and I will get it put together, and my dad and I will put it where it needs to be. Millie and Gene spend as much time as they can bonding with James and visiting with Emma. We are stationed in New York, and our parents live in Florida. We all know it will be awhile before they see us again. Once they leave on Sunday, my parents will be here the following week. I am scheduled to return to work on Monday. These two weeks that I have been off have flown by.
I return home from taking Emma’s parents to the airport to find James and Emma sound asleep in our bed. I shower and climb into bed with them. Emma is very firm about us not sleeping with James or holding him for too long. She doesn’t want him to be dependent on sleeping with us or being held. I, on the other hand, want to sleep with him and hold him during all my free time.
Once I am in bed, I just stare at the both of them. He reminds me so much of her. They even sleep in the same position; on their side with their arm draped over their eyes. I smile and just watch them. I can never get enough of him or her for that matter. She is the love of my life. I get the camera and snap several pictures of them. When I get deployed, I plan on taking a photo album with me.
I remember the first time I saw Emma; she was sitting on a park bench reading. She was wearing a floral sundress and white sandals. Her long blond hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. It was a Saturday afternoon nearing the end of summer. I was there playing basketball and just finishing up a game when I noticed some punk harassing her. I walked over to her and I could see fear in her eyes. I heard him saying how sexy she looked in her dress and what he wanted to do to her sexually. He added how good he can make her feel. I wanted to beat him to a pulp, but instead I walked up to them and smiled my all-American smile at her and told her I didn’t know the game was going to last that long and that I was sorry for keeping her waiting. She smiled shyly and stood up from the bench with her book in hand. I stood tall, squared my shoulders, rolled my neck side to side then balled my hands into a fist. I stood in front of the scared girl and looked at the punk and asked him did he want something. He shook his head and walked away. I walked the nameless girl to her car and watched her drive off. We didn’t exchange names or phone numbers. I wanted to, but after her encounter with the creeper, I didn’t want to appear to be a creeper myself.
The following week at school, I was surprised to see the nameless blond in one of my classes. She saw me in the back of the room and smiled immediately. I knew when I first saw her that she was someone special. She never wore makeup and she didn’t need to; she was just naturally beautiful. She came up to me and thanked me for helping her that day in the park. We started having lunch together and I would walk her to most of her classes. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. And the more time I spent with her, the more I realized that she was incredibly beautiful and that her beauty was the least interesting thing about her.
Emma has the same first name as Emma Peel, the character Diana Rigg played for two years on the British cult TV show The Avengers. The producers wanted a sexy woman to replace the sexy actress Honor Blackman, who left The Avengers to play the character Pussy Galore in the Bond movie Goldfinger. In fact, the producers put a lot of thought into Diana Rigg’s character’s name: Emma Peel = M Appeal = Man Appeal. I think that Emma, my wife, has a lot of man appeal.
A few months later, I was running late to meet her for lunch. I was running down the sidewalk towards the restaurant as she was coming out. She dropped her shopping bag and bent over to pick it up. I was close enough to her to hear some creeper say, “Hey baby, mind bending over again? I wasn’t quite ready.” The creeper is holding up his cell phone to take a picture. “Hey, jerkoff, take a picture of this!” Emma told him, holding up her middle finger.
I yell for her so she knows I am here. “Someone picking on you, Em?” I ask.
The creeper leaves. Quickly.
“Not anymore,” she says, smiling.
James stirs and Emma wakes immediately. I am lying on my side, beside them, and just watch. She attends to James before she even notices I am watching her.
“Hi.”
I bend down to kiss her. “Hi, yourself.”
“What are you doing?” she asks, picking James up and positioning him for his feeding.
“Watching my two favorite people sleep.”
“Nothing better to do with your time?”
“No, there is nothing better to do than to watch you and our son.”
“Would you mind getting me a diaper and wipes?
I’ll be right back.” I get up from the bed and walk out of the room.
“And get a burp cloth, too, please.”
“Anything else while I’m up?” I ask, poking my head back into the bedroom.
“I could use some water, if you don’t mind.”
“Water, wipes, diapers, and a burp cloth, got it. Be right back.”
Later in the week, my mom and dad come to visit for a week and they automatically fall in love with James. Dad and I put James’ train set up in his bedroom. When I was a little boy, I had a train set that ran around the perimeter of my bedroom just below the ceiling on the wall. It took some time but we got the train track shelf mounted to the wall and the train runs perfectly and continuously around James’ room. James is too young to appreciate this train set, but when he gets older, he will love it. Emma let me decorate his nursery in trains. She wanted some little fuzzy bears, but she eventually and reluctantly agreed to the train theme.
“Son, it looks wonderful,” my dad says as his eyes t
ravel around the room.
“Wow, Max, I can’t believe it, but it looks great,” Emma says, walking further into the nursery.
“This is just like the one Max had as a little boy.” My mom smiles in appreciation.
Mom is holding James and we are looking around the room at the moving train.
I look around the room and think, This is a great-looking nursery.
“James, do you like your bedroom?” Emma asks as she turns him around to see everything. He is still too small to know what’s going on, but he looks up towards the ceiling at the lights.
We all sit down at dinner and have mom’s homemade potato soup with bacon and cheese topping.
“I forgot how good this soup is, Cheryl,” Emma says, spooning more soup into her mouth.
“Thank you, Emma.”
“Mom, you outdid yourself,” I say, scraping the bottom of my bowl.
“Max?” my dad asks seriously.
“Sir?” My dad is a retired Army Command Sergeant Major. I always answer him with respect.
“Did you find out what the meeting is about tomorrow?”
I look around the table. Emma looks up at me and stops eating. My mom also looks at me with concern. “No, I haven’t heard anything. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.” I smile at my mom and then at Emma. I don’t want either one of them to worry.
“Max, what do you think it’s about?” Emma asks, and I can hear the crack in her voice.
I look into her big, clear, blue eyes. “Em, it’s probably about stepping up security on base or something like that. I don’t want you to worry about it.”
Emma looks away, breaking eye contact with me. That is a clear sign that she is going to worry. We have troops doing a tour of duty in the Middle East, and there is talk of sending more over to help them out.
“Em?”
She slowly looks up and doesn’t say anything. I can see the sadness and worry in her eyes.
I say, “Don’t worry, we don’t know what the meeting is about. There’s no need to worry.”
She nods. “If you’ll please excuse me,” she says, before standing and taking her bowl into the kitchen.
Shattered Dreams Page 2