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Dillon had gone straight from graduating boot camp to being sent overseas. He’d been deployed five times in four years, reaffirming my decision not to uproot the children with each reassignment. It wasn’t ideal, but ultimately, we decided to do what was best for the kids. He communicated with them via Skype as often as he could and tried to reconnect with them on a more personal level when he returned home.
Things between us never seemed to waiver once our hot and heavy romance lowered to a simmer. I loved him and knew he loved me. But our relationship was the foundation our family was built on. Like the cement you see poured before the construction crew get to work. The problem was, once we startedbuilding our family, we forgot about that big block of concrete. It was just kinda there.
Our sex life was good. But when you live apart from your spouse, you seize the opportunities for intimacy while you can. Because it could be a long drought in between. I’ve realized, thinking back, that our lovemaking had very little to do with reconnecting. It was more about needs getting fulfilled. When we were reunited, it was a whirlwind of emotion and physical release we’d longed for during our times apart. It may not have been the fairy tale, but it was a far cry from what I’d had growing up. Our little family seemed to be managing okay.
Until I shared with him that I was pregnant with Truitt.
After that, Dillon started getting short with my mother, as well as my brother, whenever he was home. Although each visit was fairly brief, it became more and more uncomfortable. So, after a lot of discussion, we moved the family to join him when he was assigned to Joint Base Lewis-McChord near Tacoma, Washington.
The transition was messy, to say the least. There weren’t any welcome parties for us. No kind neighbors to show me the ropes. And Dillon seemed to be too busy to spend any quality time with us, unless it was on the weekend. In a word, it was awkward. It should’ve felt like a grand homecoming. Instead, I felt like a fish out of water. I busied myself with the kids and trying to make a life for ourselves. New job, new school, new home… a new norm.
But nothing about our time there was normal.
“There. Finally.” I stand back and take a good look at my handywork. Sad that the best work I do in my kitchen is cleaning up after myself. Putting the supplies away, I take the stairs to my room and my fifth shower of the day. God. I’m going to need a second job just to pay the water bill.
Reaching into my shower, I place my hand on the nozzle to start the water running when I hear whimpers. Pulling back, Ihold my breath and wait. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.
Until I hear it again.But now the whimpers have grown into full blown wails.
I scamper down the hall until I reach Myla’s room and push the door wide to find her thrashing in her sheets. “Baby, baby, wake up. It’s okay. Mama’s here. You’re okay.”
She lets out a blood curdling scream before I can shake her fully awake.
“Myla, Myla. You’re okay. It’s just another nightmare. I’ve got you, baby.”
Now fully awake, she collapses into me, sobbing in my arms as I rock her back and forth. Looking up to the ceiling, I silently beg, Please, Lord. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. Let this child move past this. Let me take all of her nightmares. I’ll give up sleep for all of my days, if you’ll only let her have her nights back in peace.
For what feels like hours, I wrap my daughter in my embrace, kissing her temple and reassuring her we’re okay. Once it feels as if she’s settled, I lower her back down and wipe her wet hair away from her face. It’s only when I’m certain she’s fully engulfed in sleep that I leave her door ajar and return to my room.
Deciding to make this a quick shower, I undress and step in while the water is still chilly. I have no fear that she’ll wake again. The terrors never visit more than once a night. But the last shower of the day no longer holds any respite for me.
As the water warms, I attempt to scrub away the pain of watching my daughter flail around her bed in horror. My tears fall, and I let myself cry here, where it’s safe from my children’s view. Even after an evening at Luigi’s, laughing and smiling, nightfall only brings distress to my daughter, none of the sweet dreams she deserves.
What a mess. Where has my mind been? Even considering that someone, anyone, would willingly want any part of this mess. And if they did, why would I trust another man to enter our lives and not pull the rug out from under us? I was lonely. The idea of a man as attractive as Luca giving me attention was a temptation I dare say no woman could turn down. But life has taught me to be a realist. My kids need to come first. I’ll have to learn to find a way to protect them at all costs. Even if it’s from someone who genuinely means well.
I step out of the shower, toweling dry and reaching for the clean T-shirt lying on the vanity instead of the nightgown I normally wear. My mind is too preoccupied with Myla to bother with wearing anything pretty.
As I go to pull it over my head, I catch a flash of gold in the mirror. Pulling it out of the collar of the shirt, my jaw tightens as I peer down at it.
Why can’t you protect us? Protect her?I think to myself bitterly.
And then it hits me. Luca.Gah!My head slumps between my shoulders.I was so smitten with him tonight at dinner I completely forgot.
For fucks sake.
CHAPTER NINE
Luca
Lookingover the enormous circular metal clock I’ve just completed, I decide to pull off my protective coveralls and step outside to cool off. It’s a moderate day as far as temperatures go, only in the low eighties. This doesn’t always feel comfortable, but today’s humidity is unusually low for Virginia.
I reach into my back pocket and retrieve my latest attempt to quit smoking and pop it into my mouth before scrolling through my phone.
“Hey. The clock looks good.”
Glancing up from my phone screen, I see George. He’s eating a sub sandwich, mayonnaise dripping down the front of his blue coveralls. “Thanks. You need a bib?”
He scans the front of his clothes, spots the runaway condiment, swipes at it with the back of his hand, and immediately licks it off. I can only shake my head in disgust. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing to my mouth.
