Authors: Samantha Forest
BBW ROMANCE: BWWM Romance: A Cowboy’s Southern Comfort (Military Cowboy Pregnancy Romance) (Interracial Army Contemporary Fantasy Romance Short Stories) (4 page)
Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.
“Look,” he said steeling his heart for what he was about to say, “we both knew this wasn’t going to last. I mean it was never serious.”
“Jake….what are you talking about?” she asked.
“I’m just saying that...maybe this is a sign,” he said. “Maybe this means it’s over.”
He moved over to the kitchen not daring to look at her. He couldn’t bear to see tears or distress or anger in her eyes. All the same, he heard her follow him into the kitchen.
“So, that’s it?” she asked. “After everything that’s happened...everything we’ve...we’ve done...you’re just going to kick me out?”
“I’m not kicking you out,” Jake said quietly. “You can stay until I leave. Then, I’m sure you’ll want to find your own place.”
He expected her to shoot something angry and vindictive back at him. He expected to hear sobs or stomping. Instead, she had gone impossibly almost deathly silent.
Surprised, he forced his head up to look into her eyes. He had not adequately prepared himself for the hurt he saw there. There were tears, yes, but they were not the dramatic sobs he’d expected. They were quite, deadly pools of water that pierced his heart so that it was nearly physically painful.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”
With that, she headed off into her own room and closed the door.
She didn’t come out for dinner. Nor did Jake see her the rest of the night.
When he climbed into his own bed that night, he did not dream. Instead, he found that he could not sleep at all. The argument with Felicia kept playing over and over in his mind keeping it awake and reeling.
He’d thought he was doing what was best for her. He knew what Afghanistan did to him, after all. Even if he did come back which, with each tour, became increasingly unlikely, he wouldn’t be the same.
He knew friends with wives who put their lives on hold to help with their husband’s issues. They were constantly tired, overworked and miserable. He didn’t want that for Felicia.
But, then, he thought about coming back to this ranch without her. He thought about not waking up to see her face beside him in the bed. Not being able to laugh at stupid TV shows with her. Not being able to make fun of her cooking and a horrible emptiness filled him.
The truth was, he didn’t know if he would want to come back if it meant living without Felicia. And, as strange as it seemed, it sounded as though she did not want to live without him.
By the time the morning light filtered through Jake’s dark curtains. He had made another decision. It would require talking to Felicia again but, this time, it would be about what they both wanted.
So, he made his way down the hall to her door and knocked. There was no answer. He tried the knob. It was not locked.
When he opened the door, she was gone.
***
Jake’s hands shook when he started the ignition. He took two deep breaths to calm himself before driving into town. He had to remind himself to keep breathing as he drove.
He told himself to stay focused on the road. On what was directly in front of him and not on the people he could now see beginning to mill about on the street. People who, to his mind's eye, began to look more and more like the Taliban fighters he encountered in Afghanistan.
Finally, he arrived at his destination. The Town Inn. Which was more a motel than an inn but, in a town of fewer than one thousand people, such distinctions hardly mattered.
He parked the truck outside the main entrance and had to take several deep breaths again before he opened the door to his truck and stepped out.
His hands still shook as he began his planned route. He would make his way to the front desk and ask for Felicia’s room number. Just before he reached the door, however, a voice made him turn.
“Jake?”
Felicia was standing across the parking lot next to a beat up old van. Two suitcases in hand.
Quickly, Jake made his way over to her.
“Jake what are you-”
“Felicia, before you say anything just listen,” he said quickly hoping to get the words out before he lost his nerve.
“Please. Don’t go back with your dad.”
“Well, you didn’t give me much choice, did you?” she asked fiercely. Her eyes were hard and her arms were crossed over her chest. For some reason, the expression made him lose his nerve. He’d nearly forgotten everything he meant to tell her.
“I...that doesn’t mean you have to go back to him,” Jake said desperately, “you left him once before.”
“It’s different this time,” Felicia said.
“How is it different?”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words hung in the air between them making it thick and sluggish. Jake once again opened his mouth to speak but found no words came out.
“And, it’s yours in case you’re wondering,” Felicia said. “But, since you made it very clear that you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”
“I didn’t mean...that was before I knew…” Jake stumbled.
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Felicia said. “I don’t want to trap you into something you don’t want. I’m perfectly capable of raising a baby on my own.”
“But...what if I do want it?” Jake asked.
“That’s not what you said last night,” she answered.
“Last night I was...I was scared,” he admitted. As he did the fully ashamed of what he’d said filled him and he was forced to look down at his feet.
“I didn’t mean any of that. I just...I just didn’t want you to have to wait for me when I might not come back,” he said. His eyes were still on the ground when he heard a chuckle issue from her mouth.
He looked up once again in surprise. He found her wearing that smile. The one that she wore when she thought he was an idiot but she liked him anyway.
“You know, Jake, I love you,” she said. “But you really can be stupid sometimes.”
Three words in that sentence seemed to block the rest out. He had to repeat them back to her just to make sure that he had heard her correctly.
“You love me?” he asked.
“Of course, I do,” she said lifting her hand to his cheek. He felt a large smile cross his face as he bent down to meet his lips with hers.
This tender, gentle kiss lasted several moments before they pulled apart.
“I love you too,” he whispered as soon as they did. He was rewarded with the largest smile he had ever seen from her. She pulled away from him briefly to take her suitcase from the side of the van. Then, she returned and took his hand in hers. Still grinning from ear to ear.
“Let’s go home.”
And, as Jake followed her lead to his truck, he realized that those three words had never been more welcome.
*****
THE END
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Rekindled by th
e Flame
by Samantha Forest
I remember the last time I saw my sister.
Two weeks had passed since our mother’s death, and more than two years since our father had died in the war. Now, our Father’s sister, Aunt Martha, had dressed us up and brought us in a coach to a grand house in Boston.
Both my sister and I leaned out of the coach to stare at the structure as it came into view. Its walls were pure white with large, ornate pillars holding up a roof that seemed to reach to the blue sky above it.
It towered over the passers-by on the streets, making them look tiny and insignificant by comparison.
“Is that it?” Rose asked loudly as we approached the gate. Aunt Martha grabbed hold of Rose’s frock and pulled her into the carriage. I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye and, fearing a tug of my own dress, ducked back into the carriage as well.
“I told you not to shout, Rose,” Aunt Martha said in her Irish brogue. She looked more plain than usual in her simple black dress with patches on the bottom where she’d had to mend it.
Her brown hair, the same shade as mine, was pulled back into a tight bun atop her head and her thin lips were pursed in her usual frown.
“I told you, girls,” she said harshly. “Your grandmother is a fine lady. I won’t have you acting wild in front of her.”
When Aunt Martha said that word, ‘grandmother’, I felt an urge to make a face. This lady, Mrs. Winslow, was hardly a grandmother of any kind.
She and mama had not spoken since mama ran away to marry our Da. And this ‘Grandmother’ didn’t bother coming to Da’s funeral even though Mama had written to tell her the news. She did not even offer any help when mama fell ill.
Indeed, the first time Rose and I had seen her was at Mama’s funeral one week before.
She’d walked up to us as though she had done it a million times before. Carrying herself erect without a hint of tears or sadness on her face. She’d looked down on us over the bridge of her nose.
“So, you’re the girls, are you?” she’d asked. I had been so affronted, so stunned at this woman’s nerve that I hadn’t been able to answer. Rose answered for me.
“Yes Ma’am,” Rose had said prettily. She even performed a little curtsey. At that, Grandmama appraised Rose with an almost approving expression.
“I take it you are the youngest,” the old woman said to my sister.
“That is correct, Ma’am,” Rose said. I could tell she was putting on what she called her ‘posh’ voice. I remembered her practicing at home ‘in case we ever meet a great lady’.
Apparently, Grandmama appreciated this. Indeed, I could almost see a smile creep across her lips as she looked down at Rose. I could not say that I was surprised.
I knew there was a lot to approve of in Rose. Even at the age of six, it was no secret that she was becoming a beauty. Her blonde curls always seemed to fall perfectly around her face. They complimented her full rosy cheeks and dimpled smile.
Combine that with Rose’s inclination for pretty manners, and it was easy to see why our stern Grandmother had given Rose an approving nod.
When she turned to me, there was no approval in her eyes. My hair was dull and always hung limply around my shoulders. My green eyes were small and unremarkable and my face thin and sallow.
“You must be Mary,” she’d said.
I knew I should have answered her. I wanted to give her a cold yet delicate response. Like I’ve heard fine ladies give when they truly do not care for someone.
But, under the old woman’s cold stare, I found that I could do nothing but nod.
Grandmama glared at me once more before gliding away to whisper something to my aunt.
That whisper had brought us here. To the grand house.
We entered the large gate and stared out the window at the mountains of colorful flowers that covered the front lawn. When the carriage stopped, Aunt Martha took Rose by the hand and led her up the tall steps. I followed behind. Aunt Martha pulled a large string that caused a bell to sound inside. A man in a black and white suit answered the door.
“We’re here to see Mrs. Winslow,” Aunt Martha said. “I’ve brought her granddaughters.”
“Yes,” the man said. “She is expecting you.”
The man in the suit led us into a hall, larger by far than any room I had ever been in. Larger, even, then our church building in concord.
“Mrs. Winslow has asked that the girls remain in the hall, Madam,” the man said sparing a glance at Rose and I before turning back to my aunt. “She would like to speak with you alone in the parlor.”
Aunt Martha nodded and instructed me to keep a tight hold on Rose until she got back. Then, my Aunt disappeared into the room just off the hall, hidden by a marble white door.
Rose and I sat on a very ornate but stiff and uncomfortable bench just outside the parlor. We did not speak. Indeed, I could barely breathe as we waited for our aunt to reveal our fate.
I heard Rose begin to fidget with a fraying thread on her black frock next to me. She always did that when she was nervous.
I reached out and put my hand over hers to stop the movement. I glanced down and gave her a nervous smile. I could see her mouth struggling to return the gesture, but her wide blue eyes were filled with fear.
“What’s going to happen to us, Mary?” she asked quietly.