Leap of Faith (La Flor #1) (6 page)

I return to the present as I reach the stoplight. I stop and shake my head. All those memories—so haunting and beautiful. How will I ever be able to let go? When will I be able to move on? Miranda Lambert’s “Over You” plays on my stereo as I wait for the light to turn.

I listen to the lyrics and realize how true they are. He went away, leaving me alone—how dared he? I know he didn’t mean to leave, but he did. He went away and now I’m here raising our daughters. Alone. God, why did you have to take him from us? Why . . .

I’ve gone through the stages of grief but nothing takes away the pain, the loss of him. After hearing the news, I pretended he was deployed and just couldn’t call me. When I couldn’t pretend anymore, I became so angry—angry at the person responsible and angry that Jake would never meet our unborn child. I was angry at everything he’d miss. I also turned my anger and blame to the job he loved and the responsibilities he held. Later, I just wanted to wake from the nightmare of reality. I prayed for the nightmare to go away and I lost myself in a sea of “what ifs” and “only ifs.” The only things keeping me from going into a full and dark depression were our children: Rylee and our new little miracle. I needed to be strong for them. And then, there was Phoenix. I couldn’t let Jake’s dream die with him. I had to toughen up and take charge. Julia was going through her own loss, so my pregnancy not only gave me strength, but it also helped bring back my best friend.

Finally, I pulled myself together and came to accept the loss of my husband. I began to live my life for our children and his dream. I existed, but I didn’t
live.
My smile never reached my eyes, but I made sure to put on a strong face for my loved ones. I lived during the days and I cried myself to sleep at night. I had to learn how to live without him—I’ve accepted his loss but I don’t like it. At times, with everything that occurred, I wonder if there was a higher power at work—guiding us, giving us strength, and making things happen.

In the distance, I hear the roar of a motorcycle, getting louder as it nears. I hear it stop beside me. I turn to my left and see this huge, beautiful black-and-chrome motorcycle. I think to myself how much Jake would like that bike and would totally want it.

My eyes leave the bike and move up to its rider. I see the side profile of a man wearing sunglasses and one of those black helmets without a visor. He looks handsome, I think, surprising myself—I haven’t looked at another man since Jake. He’s dressed in black from head to boots, his shirt molded to his muscular chest and his pants covering amazing-looking thighs—a work of art. I stare at him for what seems like an eternity. I know I need to stop, but for some strange reason, I can’t bring myself to look away.

He must feel my stare because he turns toward me. We stare at each other. I can’t turn away and I can’t see his eyes. I feel a strange force refusing to let go. His right hand slowly comes up and he removes his glasses.

I gasp.

I feel that jolt, like lightning.

Oh my . . . his eyes—can they be?

From our short distance, I’m mesmerized. I’ve never seen eyes that color in person. So unique and beautiful. They hold me captive—I stare and get my fill. And his face . . .

Holy freaking crap!

He looks like a model. His skin is tan, his eyebrows are perfectly arched, his cheekbones are high and defined, his nose looks slightly crooked (like it was broken at one time—so he can’t be a model), his lips are full but not feminine, and he’s grinning.

He knows his effect on women. He’s a walking dream—all deliciousness on a stick. But it’s his eyes that hold me captive. They’re unique to the point of being strange, and yet amazing. I can only describe them as violet. His eyes are freaking purple!

By now, I’m almost drooling, but also uncomfortable. It’s been years since I’ve been affected by the opposite sex, and I don’t know how I feel about it.

I may be drooling and staring, but so is he. I mean, he’s staring back at me. He gives me a wink and that cool-man chin raise I always thought was so sexy when Jake did it. As soon as Jake comes to mind, I feel like cold water has been thrown on me and I’m quickly pulled out of my daze.

What in the world, Faith?

I’m so engrossed, I don’t notice the light has turned green until I hear a loud honk behind me. I immediately turn away and start pressing the gas to move forward. I hear him rev his engine. I take a quick glance at him one last time and notice his eyes are still on me. I think he wants me to put my window down, but I quickly look away and start moving forward. As I’m speeding away, I look into my rearview mirror and see him still in the same spot, watching my Jeep drive away.

Finally, I hear him accelerate and see him turn left. Thank goodness he went in another direction. I feel weird and unsettled. I try to shake those feelings off and keep driving. I speed away from that beautiful and electrifying man and make my way to Jake. Right now, I need to be near him and I need to share this day with him.

No matter how much I try, I just can’t help but feel like my world is about to change—that it’s about to be flipped upside down once again.

Zane

There she is. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. I’ve spent the last few years working to better myself—to be a man worthy of her because she deserves that and so much more.

I’ve waited so long and now it’s time.

I’m here for her and the girls. To hold, love, protect, and treasure them.

Finally, it’s time to keep my promise and make them mine.

I park the Jeep and make my way to Jake’s grave. I arrive at his headstone and stand for a long while looking at his resting place. Over the past years, the girls and I have visited regularly but it never gets any better. Time hasn’t taken away the pain that grips me every time I stand here in front of his grave—the final reminder that I’ll never see my husband and love of my life again.

Jacob Hunter Duval II

3 January 1978—26 April 2008

Beloved Father, Husband, Son & Friend

RLTW

I take a seat next to him, place a can of long-cut wintergreen Copenhagen (his favorite) by his headstone, and rest my head on my knees. After several deep breaths, I bring my head up and start talking to him, telling him about our days since we last came to visit. I tell him about the eventful shopping trip to the mall to buy our girls their new clothes for school, and I mention how excited our little peanut was about starting Pre-K, how nervous and scared she was. I continue until I have nothing else to say and I start rambling nonsense.

Since we didn’t keep secrets from each other during our marriage, I tell him about that moment at the stoplight. That moment when I couldn’t look away from that stranger and the invisible strong force that kept me frozen in place.

“I know you’re gone, but I still feel guilty for being affected by him. I haven’t noticed a man since you and now he comes along. It was so strange, Jake,” I say. “I couldn’t look away. I got butterflies in my stomach and that feeling of excitement and anticipation—I was mesmerized by him and wanted to memorize every one of his features. When I first saw you, I knew you were gonna be mine and I was gonna do everything in my power to make it so. I didn’t have any doubts about us.

“But this—this is different,” I continue. “It’s unsettlin’ and I don’t like it one bit. I know you’d be happy I’m finally feeling something again. I’ve been so lonely and numb—a part of my heart went missin’ when I lost you. I feel empty. I know you’d want me to be happy and move on with my life, but I don’t know if I can or if I’m ready. You’d want me to find another man that would treat me like the queen I was to you, would treasure me, and would love our daughters like his own. But is there really a man out there for me now that you’re gone?”

26 April 2008

“Holy shit, Faith! This water is fuckin’ hot!” Jake exclaims as he joins me in the shower. Every Saturday morning after my workout, we make it a point to spend “us time” while Rylee is watching morning cartoons. We make love and then we shower together in the tiny shower stall in our master bathroom.

It’s a tight fit, but we make it work.

“Stop being such a baby. The water feels just fine to me,” I say laughing at my overgrown boy of a husband. He’s always been this way and he complains every single time he steps in the shower with me. You’d figure after more than six years of marriage he’d get used to the fact that I love my showers, I’m a water hog, and I love my water hot. He constantly complains but I know it’s all for show.

“I like when you wash me. When I shower after PT, it takes me less than a minute, but you—you take your time. I especially love when you wash my cock. Falling asleep with you in my arms and our time on Saturday mornings are the highlights of my week,” he tells me. “After a long and stressful day and week, I get to be with you in my arms. I love you.”

He’s always saying sweet things to me and making me feel special. But now, it’s more frequent and he’s still acting strange. There’s something he’s not telling me—I just need to wait it out and eventually he’ll let me know what’s on his mind. He always does.

After cleaning him, I get on my knees and give him a Saturday morning present. It never gets old and I’ll never stop loving the taste of him. I feel powerful and amazing, like I can conquer the world, when I make him lose control and hear him call my name as he releases into my mouth. I, being a good wife, swallow—enjoying the salty taste of his cum.

I get to my feet and bring my mouth to his ear.

“I love you too,” I whisper. “Forever, Jake. Forever, my love.”

“Forever, Faith,” he replies as he caresses my face and kisses me.

After dressing, we head upstairs to get Rylee ready for our family outing. We decide to go on a bike ride and have some ice cream on our way home. That evening during dinner, we talk about our future and the what-if that hangs over the head of every military family.