Joy and Tiers

by Mary Crawford

  Cautiously, I open the card, steeling myself against the heartbreak I know is coming. My mind is working a million miles an hour as I try to square what I’m reading with my expectations.

  My Gidget (It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to call you mine):

  Please don’t hate me. I had to do it this way. Remember when I told you I was building memories for my deployment? Well, this weekend has been so perfect that it’s exactly how I want to picture my memories of you. I couldn’t bear to see your stunning blue eyes be sad. Please know I will do all I can to come back to you in one piece. But, if I don’t, you have made me the happiest man on the planet. I love you.

  Love,

  Your-Stubborn-Cowboy-Husband

  PS: I’ll check in when I hit the sandbox. But, it can take a bit to set things up so don’t panic.

  Holy Cow! I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry at my own stupidity. When am I ever going to learn that Tyler Joseph Colton is almost always going to do the very last thing I expect?

  A glint from the nightstand catches my eye. I notice that Tyler’s St. Michael’s medal is missing from its usual spot in my ring holder. In its place is a delicate silver necklace with its own St. Michael’s medal. There is another small gift tag in Tyler’s writing.

  It’s not blessed by the Pope, but I hope it helps keep you safe and protected while I’m gone. I love you. --Tyler.

  Trevor and Matt are trying to grab the package from my hand after mail call. “Back off! Don’t make me issue orders. These are not cookies,” I warn, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Oh come on, man!” Matt complains, “You get better mail than all the rest of us combined. Share the wealth a little.”

  “He’s right. It’s time for a cookie shipment. You holding out on us?” Trevor peeks over my shoulder. He claps me on the back when he catches sight of the boudoir photographs Heather has tucked into her latest flowery letter. “He’s holding out all right. But, if she were my wife, I’d be doing the same. I still can’t figure out how the likes of you landed such a looker.”

  “I’d never guess you guys are highly trained soldiers. You’re acting like a bunch of hormonal teenagers hanging out in the locker room. Back off for a minute while I read this.”

  Matt nudges Trevor and says, “I bet he wants to do way more than just read it, should we give him some alone time?”

  Trevor grins, “Dude. No joke. I’ve seen the pictures. If I got those in the mail, I’d want some alone time. I know Colton said his wife was pretty but, he didn’t tell us that she was centerfold pretty.”

  The pictures take my breath away. They are stunning. I’ve been married for several months, but I still have to pinch myself. She is absolutely magnificent. She is the stuff of fantasies. I can’t believe she was brave enough to take these pictures, let alone send them. I remember when we talked about the idea. She seemed reluctant at best. I’m honored that she chose to share them with me. It’s the ultimate exercise in trust because I know how shy she is about her appearance even though I think she’s absolutely gorgeous. She could totally give vintage pinup girls a run for their money.

  I turn around and nail Trevor with a withering glance. “I know I have to cut you some slack because you helped save my ass and all that jazz, but my patience is running a little thin.”

  “Hey, now! Where’s your gratitude? I threw myself on a bomb for you! Shouldn’t my gimpy-ness be worth something every now and again?”

  “Technically, you threw yourself on the bomb for Uncle Sam—I just happened to be in the way. Don’t you feel the least bit guilty trying to use your amputee status to view naked pictures of my wife?”

  Trevor looks around as if I’m talking to some other amputee that spent years trying to get back into the military after the loss of a limb. He looks at me with a self-deprecating grin and remarks, “You’re right. Using my prostheses to get cookies is perfectly acceptable but using it to lust after your wife crosses all sorts of ethical boundaries, my bad,” he teases.

  Matt groans as he remarks. “Some guys have all the luck. She sends you a homemade food and sexy pictures. How in the world did you find the perfect woman?”

  I shrug as I respond, “I stopped letting the world decide the definition of what was perfect for me and listened to my heart. It turned out she was in front of my nose the whole time.”

  “Does she have a sister?” Trevor asks thoughtfully.

  “As a matter of fact, she does,” I concede. “But, Madison and Heather might as well have been raised on two different planets, because they are nothing alike.”

  Trevor picks up a picture of Heather — dressed in baby doll pajamas cuddled with Ethel and Annie— reading a book. “I understand, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as we hit stateside—”

  “Don’t be stupid. That’s not what I meant. I’m just overwhelmed by this the show of support. I’m not used to having people encourage me from the sidelines. It’s all sorts of cool. I don’t want to get too used to it because I’m afraid that it might not last. You all have every right to hate me based on the SNAFU the last time we were deployed as a team. I mean, give me a break. You lost half of your leg because I trusted the wrong people. We lost one of the best pilots around because I thought someone could be trusted to keep their word. So, you don’t have any reason to trust my word for shit now.”

  Trevor just shakes his head at me. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, I know I had my leg amputated—when exactly did you have your brain amputated?”

  “I beg your pardon?” I sputter. Aside from the men who were killed, Trevor is among the men who lost the most in the field that day. I figured he’d still be the angriest. His attitude confuses me.

  “Look, they spell out the risks pretty clearly when we sign up. We all know we’re not selling Girl Scout cookies over here. You weren’t the one who made the operation go sideways. As I recall, I wasn’t the only one who tried to throw myself on an IED that day. I just happened to have better aim. If you hadn’t gotten up and around to tie tourniquets on people and call in backup help, there would’ve been fewer of us around to tell the tales.”

  I reach up to rub my aching shoulder as I shrug off the compliment. “I was just doing my job as a soldier. But, I can’t get the thought out of my brain that I should have figured out sooner that the Iraqi soldier was playing both sides.”

  Trevor narrows his eyes at me as he asks, “Why? What makes you so special? He fooled people with way more brass than you. He hood-winked people whose job it was to give him high level security clearance. Was that part of your job?”

  I hang my head in frustration. “No, my job was logistics and mapping.”

  “So, was the accident a failure of logistics and mapping?”

  “No. Not really. We were where we were supposed to be according to our stated objectives. Although, I did try to tell our superior officers that I didn’t want our unit to be stranded in the middle of such an indefensible area without high ground to retreat to. Unfortunately, my concerns fell on deaf ears.”

  Trevor nods sagely, “Sounds like typical bureaucracy to me. You did what you could do. Am I pissed that my leg is gone? Some days— hell yes. Other days, it doesn’t bother me as much. But, if you’re asking me if I blame you personally, no. This crap happens all the time in war. As cliché as it sounds, it’s the price I paid for defending my country. Now, if we run across that little piss-ant while we’re ‘retraining’ the Iraqis on proper techniques I can’t guarantee you how ‘proper’ my training will actually be.”

  Relief tumbles out of my body as I let loose with a low laugh. “It’s amazing how much sand gets in my eyes over here. I miss an awful lot of random stuff.”

  Matt gives me a small salute as he comments under his breath, “Roger that, Sir.”

  “You do realize that every soldier in my command wants you to be their commanding officer now instead of me, right?” I tease good-naturedly.

  I can see her blush even through the pixela
ted screen of the Skype call. The technology isn’t perfect but it’s a far cry above stale letters or even above the tape recordings that I used to send my parents at Christmas time.

  “It was just a few cookies,” she demurs. “It’s Christmastime. Everybody needs cookies this time of year.”

  “You must’ve made a thousand cookies, Gidget; you sent everybody in the unit a box.”

  “Well, Piper and your mom helped too. By the way, in case you didn’t notice I do own a bakery. So it is a little easier for me. I’m not baking them on the food truck anymore.”

  “Speaking of success, how did your TV appearance go?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed to go okay. I picked up a couple of wedding bookings from it, but it’s not something I want to do full-time. I’d rather just bake. I’ll let Aidan do the show business thing. I’ll just keep everybody fed.”

  “Well, you can feed me any day of the week. I love your food and so does everybody here. I love you so much. I can’t wait until I get home.”

  “Why are we always talking about me and never about you? How are you? Are you safe? Do you need anything?” Heather asks in an urgent tone.

  I rub the back of my neck. I hate that I can’t divulge anything. The secrecy is killing me. I want to tell her everything. Yet, I want to tell her nothing. She doesn’t need to know about the horrific smells that singe your nose hairs and never leave. She doesn’t need to know about the vacant stares of starving children who are willing to blow themselves up for a militant cause they’re too young to understand. We’re here to somehow help fix all that. Somehow I doubt we’re making a whole hill of beans worth of difference here, but I’m only here to follow orders not question them. Questioning them can get you killed in a hurry. “I’m sorry, Gidg, you know I can’t tell you all that. I wish I could. The CO’s are telling us we need to wrap up our phone calls. I wanted to talk to you face-to-face because were getting ready to do a mission that I can’t even almost talk about. So, I wanted to let you know how much I love you and how much I’m gonna miss you. I won’t be able to be in touch for a while. But, you’ll be in my thoughts every single day.”

  A look of dread crosses Heather’s face before she carefully schools her expression, “I love you, Cowboy. Come home safe Tyler.”

  A tear slides down Heather’s face but our communication is cut off the before I’m able to say another word…

  (Ty and Heather’s story will continue in Love Naturally —coming in January 2016)

  I want to start out by saying a few words about the wonderful piece of art that this book is wearing. I am so proud of it. It is a visual feast created by my own little Girlfriend Posse. With a little help from some great friends we were able to put together one of the most stunning covers I’ve ever seen. I’d like to thank Michelle Wagoner from Phlair Photography for capturing my vision of Heather and Ty. The breathtaking cake artistry is from Jennifer England, of La Bella Torta and was masterfully photographed by Rhiannon England. Once again, Ada Frost of Kage Covers Design has managed to pull all of my esoteric ideas together into a cohesive design. Ladies, you have outdone yourselves! Way to make me shine! It’s beyond my wildest dreams. Thank you so much for being part of my vision.

  I would like to thank all my friends in the Cake Community for their loyalty, advice and help. Huge kudos to my beta readers for taking the time to painstakingly read what sometimes must’ve seemed like chicken scratches and giving me honest, helpful feedback.

  For my mom who has been patiently waiting to be acknowledged in a book, this one is for you. I appreciate the fact that you taught me to cook from scratch and save recipes from disaster. I always feel like I should deeply apologize that I don’t sew better than I do since you and dad have worked so hard to build the fabric store to its greatness. Unfortunately, I’m just not that coordinated. (It’s a good thing Shawna has become such a sewing star.) But, I did learn to love cooking from you and pass that love of cooking to my sons. Because you shared your gift with me, I was able to make Brandon’s wedding cake with him. I will be forever grateful for that. I love you Mom.

  I became an author so I can change the world of fiction and change the way we perceive what an acceptable leading character is. In this novel, Tyler Colton is a fictional character who has had multiple tours of duty and has post-traumatic stress disorder. Unfortunately, post-traumatic stress disorder is all too real among returning veterans. For that reason, I am donating 15% of my profits to the Wounded Warrior Project for an entire year.

  In this book, family plays a big role in the lives of the characters. Heather is influenced strongly by her grandparents. I was lucky enough to have grandparents who believed I could do anything or be anything that I ever dreamed of being. It’s a powerful force to know someone is always in your corner. Sadly, all of my grandparents are gone now. Yet, their influences in my life remain.

  Granddad and Grandpa, thanks for showing me what real compassionate macho guys looks like. Yes, Grandma H. I am taking my vitamins… and Grammy, they’re making bubble wrap that doesn’t pop now, what fun is that? I miss you all every day.

  I have been lucky enough to live my own version of a romance novel. I married the guy who kissed me at summer camp. He told me on the night we met that he was going to marry me and be the father of my children. Eventually I stopped giggling when he said it, and we just celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary. We have two children. The oldest is in medical school, where he recently found and married the love of his life, and the youngest is still in elementary school.

  Presently I’m a stay at home mom, but I’m working on several other novels, and I volunteer my time to a variety of causes. I have worked as a Civil Rights Attorney and diversity advocate. I spent several years working for various social service agencies before becoming an attorney. In my spare time, I love to cook, decorate cakes and of course, I obsessively, compulsively read.

  If you have questions or comments, please E-mail me at Mary@MaryCrawfordAuthor.com or find me on the following social networks:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authormarycrawford

  Website: MaryCrawfordAuthor.com

  Twitter:www.twitter.com/MaryCrawfordAut

  Being an author is a very isolating endeavor, since by nature we live in a world of fantasy. I take fan input seriously and I would love to hear yours. Sites like Amazon and Goodreads give you the opportunity to rate this book and share your thoughts on Facebook and Twitter. If you like this book, please take a moment to share your review and encourage your friends and family to share in the love of reading.

  Thank you so much.

  ~Mary

  If you enjoyed Heather and Ty’s love story, the adventures continue in the upcoming releases in the Hidden Beauty series titles:

  Until the Stars Fall from the Sky (A Hidden Beauty Novel #1)—Jeff and Kiera—June 3, 2014

  So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel #2)—Aidan and Tara—April 24, 2015

  Joy and Tiers (A Hidden Beauty Novel #3)—Heather and Ty—Coming August 15, 2015

  Love Naturally (A Hidden Beauty Novel #4)—Madison and Trevor—Coming New Year’s 2016

  Love Seasoned (A Hidden Beauty Novel #5)—Denny and Gwendolyn—Coming Winter, 2016

  Love Reclaimed (A Hidden Beauty Novel #6)—Donda and Jackson—Coming Fall 2016

  Introducing a new series, A Hidden Heart scheduled to debut in the fall.

  Identity of the Heart (A Hidden Heart Novel #1)—Ivy and Marcus and Rogue and Tristan —Coming October 23, 2015

  Sheltered Heart (A Hidden Heart Novel #2)—Jessica and Mitch—Coming Summer, 2016

  This book is dedicated to everyone

  who has a story and is afraid to share it.

  May you find the strength to tell someone—

  You could change someone’s life with your words.

  A special thank you

  to all those

  who take the time to listen.

  Mindy, the nearly seven-year-old foster daughter of
my best friend Kiera, is making it her mission to cheer me up. She refuses to allow me to be a wallflower, the role in which I’m most comfortable. “Are you sure you don’t want to dance? It’s real fun. I bet my daddy will dance with you. He’s a really great dancer,” Mindy offers enthusiastically.

  I freeze as her words lance my heart, yet my soul yearns to dance as the bass thumps through the speakers and I feel the rhythm deep in my bones. I study the crowd of people pressed together on the dance floor and I shudder. “I’m sorry, Mindy, I don’t know how to dance. I guess I’ll have to sit this one out,” I shrug nonchalantly as I answer her, but I can’t quite square my gaze with hers.

  Mindy scowls and narrows her gaze as she examines me from the top of my head to the tips of my freshly painted toenails. “Miss Tara?” she prompts.

  “Mm-hmm?” I reply, trying not to squirm under her perusal.

  “Um, you know that I can pretty much tell if a grown up is trying to trick me?” she asks.

  I nod—primarily because my ability to speak seems to have taken an intermission.

  “So, why bother to fib about a silly thing? I think you’re a dancer because your feet look funny, just like the dancers who came to my school from the Portland Ballet Company. Plus, you kicked your tae kwon do teacher in the teeth when he said, ‘You punch like a girl and should wear a tutu.’ I don’t get why you’d lie about dancing, but whatever,” Mindy says, shaking her head and shrugging.

  I feel like she has punched me in the stomach. I never meant to hurt Mouse in a million years. I feel lower than a caterpillar. I glance back at the dance floor. Donda is dancing with the bartender who she’s been flirting with all night as she takes a break from being the DJ. By all appearances, she has been very effective as they are dancing so close together that you’d be hard pressed to fit a single sheet of paper between them. I pale as I watch the handsome bartender grab Donda’s waist and grind his hips into her backside. I draw in a harsh, startled breath while I try to find my voice to call for help. Suddenly, Donda looks over her shoulder, gives him a wink, and kisses the underside of his jaw.