Rain {Pinterest Stories: August Edition}

Does anyone remember the series I started awhile back (think—over a year ago), short stories from Pinterest prompts? (If you don't, don't feel bad. I didn't either until I found this little gem in some old draft posts. xD)

I can't promise that this series will make a comeback, but for the time being, enjoy this little flash fiction! <3

  Standing on the sidewalk under the tree with my damp hoodie covering my head, I watch her in wonder. 

  She spins and dances in the middle of the wet street. Rain pours down from the sky, steam rising from the warm asphalt. People scurry into their homes and places of abode to escape the downpour, but not Jaylynn. 

  She rises up on her toes, pirouetting and twirling like the beautiful ballerina princess she is. She must have felt my eyes on her for she turns and grins at me, motioning for me to join her. I know she can't read my lips or catch my signs at this distant, so I just shake my head and pretend shiver. 

  I detect a stealthy eyeroll, and she ignores my negative reply and persists. Shaking my head and snickering, I call out, “I'm not a dancer!” 

  She doesn't know what I said, but still she grins at me, shaking droplets of water from her hair. 

  My focus is drawn past Jaylynn and on up the street to...a truck. A pickup truck traveling top-speed down the residential street. Water from the pavement slings up creating a phantom-like mists behind his tires. 

  In the following split-second, I glance to Jaylynn and back to the truck. She stands barefooted on the centerline, face upturned to the rain. But he sees her...right? 

  As the truck continues to barrel down the road, I realize no. 
  He doesn't see her. 
  He hasn't slowed down at all. 
  And he's headed straight for her. That driver must be drunk, blind, stupid, or psychotic. 

  “Jaylynn!” My scream sounds like pure terror, but I couldn't care less. It should sound terrified; I'm scared to death. 

  She can't hear me. Of course, she can't. I know that. I've always known that. Why did I even scream? A barrage of stupid thoughts race through my brain as another split second passes. My mind flashes to what's about to take place before me, and the tragedy of it all forces me into action. 

  I race out into the street, into the flooding rains, and straight to Jaylynn. She hasn't budged, has no idea we could both very easily be dead within seconds. I grab her around the waist and haul her back towards the safety of the cement sidewalk. 

  She jolts and starts as my arms come in contact with her body. There's no time to sign an explanation. Odd thing to notice at such a time, but Jaylynn was right. The wet, warm asphalt does feel good on bare feet. 

  She twists in my arms as I struggle to stumble out of harm's way, but I don't release her or loosen my hold. We’re not out of the oncoming lane yet. 

  Another series of staggering steps and we’re to the side of the road. My foot slipped on the drain grate between the sidewalk and the road lane, and I vault forward. Somehow managing to end up with my backside taking the brunt of the fall and Jaylynn arriving in safety without a scratch, I slap across the ground on both concrete and grass. 

  As my cheek comes in contact with the wet grass, the pickup truck whizzes by. Never even slowing down. He would've killed her. Both of us, if I'd been a millisecond later. I could break something with all this anger bottled up inside of me. 

  I get my bearings enough to sit up with only a groan. Jaylynn is to my right, her knees drawn to herself, staring out at the spot she stood mere seconds ago. 

  I reach out and touch her arm. She's trembling violently. I notice something else too. 
  Jaylynn is no longer smiling and the rain has ceased. 

What do ya think? Would y'all like to see more of this type of stories? 

Coming Home ~ part two {Pinterest Stories: April edition}

And now! I bring to you on this lovely Monday afternoon, the second part of Coming Home!! 

*****

  I passed through the door and wiped my eyes, hurrying on toward the car. Dusk had fallen while I was inside, and I mentally berated myself for leaving the boys alone for so long. How long has it been? Fifteen minutes? 

  Titus voice met my ears before I spotted him. 

  “‘I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river,’ cried Little Nutbrown Hare. ‘I love you across the river and over the hills,’ said Big Nutbrown Hare.” 

  I peeked into the back window of the car and saw Titus, picture book open in his lap, reading aloud to his younger brother. The sighting warmed my heart. 

  Titus looked up when my shadow fell across him, his eyes serious and concerned. I opened the door to be bombarded with questions. 

  “Are you okay, Momma? What happened?” Titus slid out of the car and hugged me. “Why are you crying?” 

  “I'm fine, sweetie.” I bent and kissed his sunny blond towhead. “Everything is okay.” Christopher crawled toward me, and I leaned into the car and scooped him up and onto my hip. He rested his head against my shoulder, reminding me how close it was to bedtime. 

  “There's someone inside who wants to see you.” I closed the car door and grabbed Titus’ hand, starting back towards the house. 

  Titus tugged on my hand and looked up at me, light eyes blinking. “Who is it?” 

  I didn't answer at first, debating over whether or not to try to explain it to him. Will he even know Chris? Christopher squirmed next to me, his breath warm on my neck. I kissed my sweet little boy’s head, wondering how long it would take him to accept Chris as his father. 

  “Momma?” Titus jerked on my hand again as we reached the front door. “Did you hear me?” 

  “I'm sorry, buddy.” I smiled down at him. “Yes, I heard you, and I need to explain something to you.” 

  He eyed me warily. “What's wrong?” 

  “Nothing’s wrong, I just…” I reached out and touched his cheek. “Do you remember when Daddy left before Christopher was born? And then he…he didn't come back?” 

  He nodded slowly, eyes deep with sorrow. “I miss him.” 

  He does remember… Tears stung my eyes and I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, guiding him in the door. “C’mon, buddy.” 

  We stepped into the living room a moment later. At our approach, Chris turned from the window where he must've been watching my interaction with the boys. 

  He cleared his throat and slowly walked toward us, hands at his sides. He glanced at me and then back and forth between the boys. Seeing Christopher nearly asleep on my shoulder, he knelt in front of Titus. 

  “Hey Titus.” Chris smiled, looking into his son’s face. “You probably don't even remember me.” 

  Still holding my fingers, Titus slowly nodded. “I-I do…” he said, chin quivering. “You’re my daddy.” 

  At those words, tears filled my eyes. Thank You, God, for bringing my family back together. Titus released my hand and found his way into Chris’ waiting arms. The little boy didn't say a word, his arms around his father’s neck. 

  Chris looked up at me then, his eyes brimming with tears. Nestling Christopher closer, I smiled and nodded. Yes, this was how things were supposed to be. 

  Within a few moments, Titus hiccuping sobs subsided. Lifting him to his side, Chris stood and moved toward the couch. I followed, skirting around the pile of glass shards he had indeed swept out of the way. 

  Chris sat on the couch with Titus in his lap, and I sank to the cushion next to him. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I squeezed my eyes shut, staying as close to him as possible. 

  Christopher lifted his head from my shoulder at the jostling. “Why Ty crying?” he mumbled. 

  “Titus is okay, sweetie.” I kissed the top of his head, and looked over at my eldest, stilling crying and holding to his father. 

  Christopher sat on my lap, eyeing Chris as if he were a complete stranger. The toddler seemed entirely uneffected by the strange man Titus and I were clinging too. I began to worry how I would explain Chris’ appearance to the toddler. Whenever he'd asked after his father in the past – not often – I'd told him that Daddy went to be with Jesus. But now? It wasn't like I could take those words back. 

  Christopher soon decided that Chris was harmless and settled back against my shoulder, nodding off. Between going to the grocery store and Chris’ appearance, it was long past the boys’ bedtime by then. 

  “Chris?” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Do you think I should try to explain this to Christopher? I mean, how do I tell him…about you?” 

  Smiling sadly, Chris reached over and slid his finger into Christopher’s grasp. “Maybe we don't need to try to explain things right now. Let's just give it some time. Let him get used to having me around before we try to delve into all the details. He's not used to having a daddy.” 

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I smiled. “And I think he’ll catch on quickly.” 

  I looked over at Titus, snuggled against Chris’ other shoulder, and found him looking back at me. He grinned, an expression so boyish and carefree especially in comparison to his usual solemn eyes. 

  “Momma?” 

  “Yes, Titus.” 

  “I'm hungry.” 

  Laughing, I replied. “We can fix that. C’mon you two.” 

  I set Christopher down and made my way to the kitchen. Chris and Titus went outside and brought in the groceries while I whipped up grilled cheeses for the four of us. The boys clambered up into their seats, Chris taking the fourth chair at the table. I'd never really paid much attention to it until that night, but that extra seat had always been there. Just waiting to be occupied. 

  I brought food to the table and sat the plates in front of them, stopping to kiss Chris’ cheek. He grinned and kissed me back. 

  We sat at the kitchen table and ate grilled cheese sandwiches and milk. All of us, our little family. My heart filled to overflowing. 

*****

  As it turned out, Titus was the one to explain things to his brother. In his grown-up-before-his-time way, with brotherly love, in a kid-language Christopher could grasp. 

  After cleaning up the kitchen, I crept down the hall in search of Chris. I found him at the door to the boys’ room, watching them sleep. 

  I stepped up beside him and leaned my head against his shoulder. He threaded his arm around my waist, nudging me closer. 

  As we watched, out of their sight in the near-darkness, Christopher climbed out of his bed and crossed the strip of carpet to his brother’s bed. 

  “Ty?” He whispered, tapping Titus on the arm. 

  Titus lifted his head. “Yeah?” 

  Christopher squirmed his way up onto his brother’s bed and didn't stop until he was under the quilt. “Ty?” 

  “Huh?” 

  The toddler leaned back agaisnt the pillow, one arm behind his head as if contemplating the greatest questions of mankind. “Who's that man Momma kissed?” 

  Chris’ arm around my shoulders tightened. 

  Titus’ head appeared from underneath the covers. “That's our daddy, Christopher. Didn't you know that?” 

  Christopher continued staring up at the ceiling. “No, it's not.” 

  “Yeah, it is. Why don't you believe me?” 

  “Momma said Daddy went to be with Jesus in Heaven. And she said people don't come back from there. So that can't be him.” 

  Titus raised on his elbows, chin in his hands, and eyed his brother. “Well…maybe she was wrong.” 

  “Momma’s never wrong.” 

  Titus was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I don't get it either. But it is him, I know it. Don't you want to think that too?” 

  Christopher gave the matter special consideration. I pressed closer the Chris, praying that the boy would answer affirmatively for his sake – for our family’s sake. 

  “Yeah…” Christopher finally admitted. “I like him.” 

  “Good,” Titus nodded as if concluding the conversation. “You wanna sleep with me tonight?” 

  Instead of replying, Christopher scooted down into the bed, grabbing the blanket and yanking it over his head. 

  “I guess that's a yes,” Titus mumbled, and he too dropped his head to the pillow. 

  Within a few moments, the sound of twin deep breaths drifted from the bed in corner. Satisfied they were fast asleep for the night, Chris led me down the hall and into the living room. 

  We sat on the couch, and he took my hands in his. “I'd say it's time you heard the whole story.” 

  I nodded once, knowing these details will be difficult to hear. But I needed to hear, needed to know what he's been through. 

  We talked for hours, not going to bed until well after two o’clock. And at eight thirty the next morning we were pounced on by two pajama-clad boys. But when hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles as they hugged their father, how could I complain? 

  He had come home. 

*****

  A sunny and happy Saturday surrounded us the next morning as I put the car in park in front of my in-law’s house. I turned to face Chris who sat in the backseat next to Christopher’s carseat. 

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

  “Positive.” He began unbuckling Christopher’s restraints, and I turned to hop out of the car. 

  I walked to the other side and opened the back door. Christopher slid out of the carseat and hit the ground running. 

  The boys scampered across the yard and up onto their grandparents’ porch with me not far behind them. 

  I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder to note that Chris had gotten out of the car and now stood around the side of the garage – awaiting his signal. 

  Chris’ mother had came to the door and was about to usher the boys into the house when I reached them. 

  “We have a surprise for you, Maria.” 

  “Oh?” My mother-in-law eyed me suspiciously, before glancing back down at the boys. “Do you two know what your momma is talking about?” 

  “Yes, Nana!!” Titus nodded excitedly. “Daddy is home!” 

  “Daddy?” Maria repeated, eyes wide as she looked to me for an answer. “What is he talking about, Julie?” 

  I smiled. “Titus means exactly what he said.” I stepped to the side, as Chris stepped up on the porch behind me. 

  “Hey, Mom.” 

  “Chris…” She murmured, her gaze becoming distant. Her legs weakened as she began to sink against the door casing. 

  Chris rushed forward and grabbed her before she could hit the floor. Maria didn't fully faint though, more like a swoon I guess you could say. Chris helped her to the bench seat a few yards away. 

  “Mom? Can you hear me?” 

  Titus and Christopher shrank back, their innocent eyes darting back and forth between Chris and their grandmother and me. 

  Maria didn't answer Chris’ insistent questioning, but she reached forward and pressed her hands to his face. “Oh, son…” 

  I pulled the boys to my sides and held them close, watching. Maria hugged Chris, her shoulders convulsing with quiet sobs. Soon Tom, Chris’ father, appeared from around the side of the house and dropped to his knees before his wife and son, joining the happy reunion. 

  I admired the beautiful scene, my heart full. I was honoring the memory of thinking we'd lost Chris, not willing to take him for granted now. I was thankful, so very grateful to God for bringing him back to us and giving our family a second chance. And I was happy. 

  What more could I say? There was heartache, there were tears. But in the end, it was all worth it. The thrill of joy and cheer outweighed the sting of grief and mourning. 

  All was right in my world. 

*****

Before I forget, here's the pin that inspired the story in the first place. ^_^ Obviously, I did some creative tweaking to the original, but still... *nods* Lovely one-sentence-story. :D 

Hope you enjoyed! If all goes well, there will be another 'Pinterest story' appearing on this blog next month. :D 

~Faith 

Do you have an image or writing prompt you would like to see made into a story for this series or an Imagine This challenge? Feel free to send it my way! The link to my Pinterest account can be found under the About Firefly tab, or you can message me through the Blogger contact form at the bottom of this page to obtain my email! :) 

Coming Home ~ part one {Pinterest Stories: April Edition}

Welcome to the trial-run/first edition of a new blog series titled Pinterest Stories! :D If this post and its companion (coming next week) are well liked, this series may become a monthly or bi-monthly happening. 

So what is Pinterest Stories? Basically it's this – whenever I come across story prompts are other inspirational things on Pinterest, the possibilities begin running through my mind. I have this desire to write short stories (which have been apt to turn into longer stories, but I'm trying to keep this at/around 5k). I have completed one of these such stories, and I have another nearly done. And I thought, "hey, why not share these on the blog?" 

A major request in the blog survey awhile back was for more short stories. So here ya go... :) 

****** 

  I didn't expect anything unusual when I came home that day. Just another day when the bills outnumber my income, when the pension we receive from my deceased husband isn't enough to cover groceries, much less the mortgage. 

  After doing my father-in-law’s bookkeeping and spending a shift waiting tables, I picked up the kids from their grandparents’ and swung by the grocery store. It wasn't even dark by the time we got home, but I was really to keel over. And I still needed to fix supper and get them to bed before collapsing myself. But it was Friday night and that meant two days of rest and stress-less housework stretched out before me. At least when I was working at home, I could be with the kids. 

  People often questioned when they thought I couldn't hear them, and others were blunt enough to express their concerns to me directly. That I work too much, that I'm wearing myself down, that I never look happy anymore. But my reply is always the same. I only work enough to keep the bills paid, I'm not wearing myself out, I'm fine… And I would brush it off, always trying to avoid the happiness question. 

  Because there would only be one answer – the bare truth. That I find happiness in my boys, my family, and my God…but happiness doesn't mean the same since he left. 

  I stepped up onto the porch with an armload of groceries and two little boys trailing me. Almost-three-year-old Christopher Jr. jabbers about something his grandpa told him, while Titus, at seven, does his best to help me with the groceries. 

  I didn't even notice that the front door was slightly open until I reached it. I felt my eyes grow wide at the realization. Someone has broke in on us… But the question was, were they still in there? 

  “What's da matter, Mommy?” Christopher wanted to know, tugging at my skirt. 

  “Um, nothing, sweetie,” I assured him, depositing my groceries in the lawn chair. Thinking fast, I grabbed the two bags form Titus’ hands as well and placed them beside mine. 

  “Titus,” I laid my hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I want you to take your brother back to the car and wait there until I come for you, okay?” 

  “But why, Momma?” 

  “Just do it, please? I'll be out there in just a minute.” 

  Titus’ eyes met mine – as grey as his father’s had been. “Okay,” he murmured, no longer questioning me. I watched as he grabbed his little brother’s hand and led him back toward the car in the drive. 

  Knowing the thief could appear at anytime, I stuffed my car keys into my pocket – thinking I can set the alarm off and arouse the neighbors should the need arise. 

  With timid steps, I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. Nothing looked to be disturbed in the entryway. I took a couple quiet steps and stuck my head into the kitchen to my left. Everything looked untouched there too. 

  Could I have forgot to lock the door? No. I was certain I did. And even if I hadn't, I knew I shut it tightly. 

  Heart pounding in my chest, I stepped over the creaky middle floorboard and peeked around the partition wall and into the living room. 

  And immediately ducked back out. 

  Someone was in there. 

  A man. Alone. Sitting on our couch and facing the opposite way. He didn't appear to be disturbing anything, but that didn't solve the mystery of his presence. 

  Summoning courage from somewhere deep within – or Someone – I again turned to look into the room. 

  The man hadn't budged from his spot, where he seemed to be looking down at something. But what?

  My curiosity getting the better of me, I tiptoed around the corner and into the room, wishing I'd left my shoes outside. The man was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clenched hands. And he was studying our family pictures sitting on the coffee table. 

  My temper flared and I wanted nothing more than to yell for this intruder to get out of my house. To get rid of this person who’s wrongfully invaded our haven. But the picture frames caught my eye and I paused to see what he was seeing. 

  The one of the right portrayed a beautiful and happy family. I was in the center of the picture – happy, smiling, great with child and held in my husband's arms. Chris was grinning his boyish grin and wearing that uniform…that uniform – the same one he was wearing when he was killed two months later. Little Titus stood beside us, just happy to be in the golden sunlight. 

  And the one on the left was last Christmas. Me with my arms around two handsome, grinning little boys. Boys without their earthly daddy to love them and raise them. I hadn't felt like having our usual yearly pictures taken until then. Nothing was the same without Chris here. 

  I returned my attention to the man on my couch. Maybe he's homeless and just needs a place to get out of the weather… But I think the covered porch would’ve been sufficient, opposed to breaking into my home. He had not noticed me yet, so I decided I would have to say something and make my presence known. 

  In walking forward while not watching where I was going, my hand collided with a ceramic vase on the small table behind the couch. The vase crashed to the floor and shattered.

  At the sound, the intruder jumped to his feet and whirled around. Finding me there, he stopped and stared. 

  And I stared back. The uniform made me wince – the same way I had with every serviceman I had came in contact with since he’d been gone. Do they have families that will be broken apart? I always found myself wondering. 

  I studied him closer, noting the way the uniform hung on his tall but thin frame. My gaze continued climbing until I reached his face. 

  His face… 

  I took a step back, shocked. No, it can't be. That's not possible. He's dead… he's… Reeling from the familiarity, I forced my eyes to return to his. Grey eyes… 

  “Hey Julie.” He spoke my name so tenderly, watching me as if he was afraid I was going to pass out or throw something at him or something. 

  “No…” I shake my head. “I don't know who you are, but–” My voice broke, as he continued to watch me, the scattered glass shards separating us. Could it be? Could it really be? 

  “Chris?” I somehow got the word out around the choking lump in my throat. 

  He nodded, giving me a little smile, eyes wary. “Yeah, sweetheart, it's me.” 

  A million questions raced through my mind. I bit my lip, holding in the tears and starting towards him. 

  “No, wait. The glass.” 

  Glass? I looked down at the brokenness glistening across my clean floor. Oh yeah. Forgot about that. 

  Chris moved along the length of the couch and I followed, meeting him at the opposite end. He paused a foot from me, reaching out his hand toward me, hesitating. 

  Oh, don't hesitate. I smiled at him best I could through the emotions and tears that seemed to have paralyzed my facial muscles. 

  Before I even knew what was happening, he'd wrapped me in his arms and pulled me snugly against his chest. My right arm went around my husband’s waist – my husband! – and i brought my left hand up and clenched the fabric of his shirt in my fist. 

  “Chris…” I murmured, my frame racked with sudden sobs. 

  “I'm here,” he whispered, his kiss brushing my forehead. “I'm finally here.” 

  I buried my face in the front of his uniform, breathing in his presence. “You w-were missing and then w-we were told you were…probably dead and…I mean, it's been…nearly three years…and…” I finally brought my blubbering to a stop. He probably couldn't even make sense of it. 

  “I know.” He shifted his arms around me and, for a second, I thought he was releasing me. Unwilling to let this embrace end so quickly, I tighten my hold on him. No, not yet…please… My worry was for naught when he merely held me closer. 

  Until then, my confused brain had held onto the silly idea that this wasn't even my husband. That this was all a joke. That he would let go and disappear from me again. That the magical moment would end and I would be back to the grieving, single mom with two little boys depending on her. But no; this is him. Chris is the only one who's ever been able to read me like this, to know when I need comfort and affection. Oh, sweet Jesus, thank You… 

  I lifted my head from his chest and leaned up to kiss him, and he kissed me back, brushing his thumb under my eyes. Drawing back, I gazed into his eyes, finding tears there too. 

  “I love you.” 

  Another choked sob escaped me at his endearing words. “I love you too.” I finally summoned the courage to ask him what I was dying to know. “All this time…where have you been?” 

  I felt him tense against me. He didn't answer right away, pulling me to him again. “Prisoner.” He whispered the single word against my hair, starting a tingle down my spine. 

  Images, grotesque and flithy, flitted through my mind. “…what?” 

  Chris shook his head, pressing his cheek to mine. “Never mind. We can talk about that some other time.” 

  “Okay.” Right then I would've agreed with anything he said. “How long have you been here, then?” 

  He kissed my nose and pulled back, hands pressed to my back. “Not long. I hitchhiked from the airport, planning in my head what I would say to you and how everything would go. Felt kinda stupid when no one answered the door.” He grinned, and what remained of my heart turned to mush. 

  I laughed, tucked under his arm. “So then you broke in.” 

  “Hey, I didn't break in. Key was in the same ol’ place.” 

  But that's about the only thing that's stayed the same… I quietly observed the way his face changed as his eyes roamed the room. 

  “I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, squeezing me back to his side. “I figured I'd take a look around, make sure you still lived here, and then wait for you outside.” 

  Arms around his waist, I tilted my head to catch his expression. “And…?” 

  “And then I saw the picture frames,” he finishes softly. He looked back at me, eyes melancholy for all he's missed. “We have two boys now?” 

  My breathing hitched. He doesn't even know our youngest. I nodded, unable to imagine how he feels right now – unable to give a title to my own confused emotions. 

  “His name is Christopher,” I whispered. “He's almost three.” 

  Our son’s namesake repeated the shared given name, shaking his head. “I don't know what to say… Tell me about him.” 

  “That could take awhile.” I smiled, resting my cheek against Chris’ shirt still damp with my tears. “He talks enough to make a saint’s head hurt, and Titus…” I trailed off as a wave of realization swept over me, jerking my head up. “Oh my goodness, the boys!” 

  Chris’ arms fell away from my shoulders. “What's wrong?” 

  “The boys,” I began again. “I thought someone had broken in, so I sent them back to the car.” 

  He visibly winced. “I'm sorry, Julie, for scaring you like that.” 

  “You don't need to apologize.” I hugged him again. “I'm going to go get the boys, okay?” 

  Chris nodded, forcing a nervous smile. “It’ll be awkward for awhile, but I'd like to see them.” He cocked his head to the right. “And I'll, uh, clean that glass up so no one gets hurt.” 

  I figured that was just something to do before being reuniting with his boys – meeting one for the first time – but I just nodded. Kissing his cheek, I reluctantly released my hold on my husband. “Don't go nowhere.” 

  He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes – his eyes that didn't meet mine. “Don't worry; I'll be here.” 

  I moved away from him and across the room. I was nearly to the doorway when Chris stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Julie, wait.” 

  I turned back. “Yeah?” 

  He glanced down at our entwined fingers and released my hand, as if distancing himself from me. 

  My eyes jumped from his hand to his face. “Chris, what–” But he cut me off. 

  “Three years is a long time. If it would be easier for you and the boys to not make this adjustment, I'll leave right now, and you won't hear from me again. The boys don't even have to know.” 

  My heart dropped to my stomach at what he was suggesting. Oh Chris, don't… But I fell in love with him all over again knowing he would do whatever I asked in this situation – that he would sacrifice raising his sons if it was deemed in their best interest. 

  With staggering steps, I moved back across the room to him. “Don't you dare walk away from us again.” 

  I was hardly through speaking when he tugged me back into his arms, cupping his hand against my hair. By that time, my tears were replenished and spilling down my face again. I pressed my face into his shirt, my heart still hurting from his words. Could he really walk away so easily? 

  “We need you, Chris.” My words are muffled against his shirt. “I need you, the boys need you. We need to be a family and–” I halted, shoulders trembling. 

  “Sshh, don't cry. That's all I need to know. I won't bring it up again…promise.” 

  Promise… The word brought unbidden memories flooding into my mind. My mind flashed back to the airport where Titus and I said goodbye to Chris before deployment. I had confided in him the night before that I was worried, scared for his safety. When he released me for the final time and shouldered his bag, I knew he was thinking of those words. 

  “I'll be back,” he had said, smiling at me. “I promise.” 

  “I’m not sure how good you are at keeping promises,” I whispered in the stillness of the living room. 

  He continued to hold me and didn't answer, but I knew he heard me. I winced, recalling the harshness of my words. 

  “I'm sorry, Chris.” I pulled away and sought out his face. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded.” 

  “I know you didn't.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I'm sorry for all you've been through.” A darling twinkle brightened his eyes. “And I did come back.” 

  I grinned, leaning back into his shoulder. “You're only two years late.” 

  A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. 

  “Julie…” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Go get our boys.” 

  This time when I drew back from his embrace and started across the room, his face was serious. But his eyes met mine, and when he smiled at me so did they. 

*****

Hope you enjoyed! Check back next week for part two, along with the Pinterest image that inspired this story! :) 

~Faith 

P.S. Yes, I'm aware that I have one-million-and-thirteen comments that haven't been replied to. I'll get to that...soon. XD