Deciding Tomorrow (34 page)

The reverend speaks, addressing the audience and us, but I hear none of it. My mind is elsewhere—on the curve of my bride’s mouth, the delicate shape of her collarbone, and her overwhelming magnificence. Her small hand in mine, because I never let it go, sinks further into my grip as the ceremony continues.

I recall our early days from long ago. She was so different then but still the same. My mind remembers her crimson cheeks on the day we met, the first time her soft coral lips touched my own, and when I saw her cry from the turmoil she and I were dealt, breaking my heart and making me feel so helpless.

We’ve been through a lot. It was enough to challenge and break us but not enough to keep us apart forever. My life truly began when she walked into my world, and it will end with her by my side.

The wedding is a simple one, as Ruby requested, and frankly, as I prefer. Our vows are traditional, tried and true, the same words that have been spoken by couples for hundreds of years.

Exchanging rings, I place one on her dainty finger, and she places the platinum band around my own. It feels foreign, but I love the reminder on my hand. It’s an extension of her.

Finally, the part I’ve been waiting for.

“Now that Brent and Ruby,” the reverend states, “have given themselves to each other by solemn vows and the joining of hands with the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.”

Ruby gasps, joyful and almost overwhelmed. Her elation is so bright and pure, coming from a place deep within.

“You may kiss the bride,” the reverend adds.

Wrapping one arm behind the small of her back, I lure her in and plant my lips on her soft, sweet mouth. I try so hard not to dive in and consume all that she is, barely remembering that we are among family and friends.

She’s my wife.

She’s my life.

This is our life.

THESE DAYS

~Ruby~

“How’s Sylvia?” I ask my father on the other end of the connection. “Are you two ever going to make it official?”

“Now, now, no rush,” he playfully chides. “We just moved in together. And she’s doing well.”

“I’m glad. I really like her, you know.”

“Yes, I do. And I think she likes you, too.”

It’s been a few years since my father was released from his prison sentence. He got out early on good behavior and has been doing well, given the circumstances. He was committed to making the best of his life, going through rehabilitation programs and finding work to keep him busy. Along the way, he met Sylvia, a lovely woman from a few towns over where he lives in Indiana near his brother, Jas. Sylvia and my father became acquainted one afternoon when he helped her with a flat tire. It sounds so cliché and romantic, but some stories just are. They’ve been together for a little over a year now.

“So, when do you think you’ll be able to come out?” I ask while cutting up a pineapple.

“I’m hoping soon,” he says. “Maybe in the next month or two.”

“Well, tell Sylvia she’s invited, too. We’d love to have you both.”

“She’d like that.”

The refrigerator door quickly opens and shuts, and then high-pitched cackles ensue down the hall.

“Hope! Fate!” I shout. “What are you two doing?”

My father chuckles on the other end of the line. “They giving you trouble?”

“As always. I should get going. I need to feed your granddaughters.”

“Okay, you get going and give them my love.”

“I sure will.”

“Talk to you soon. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We end the call. I wipe my hands on a towel and trudge upstairs to see what my little girls are up to. Hope and Fate are the blessings brought to us a little over six years ago.

Once Brent and I were married and happily living together in California, life was simple and easy, forged forward by our love. Within that first year as husband and wife, his career took off faster than either one of us could have imagined. When his contract expired, the team offered him a new one with a sizable compensation. We’ve been a West Coast couple ever since.

For me, I opted not to go to graduate school after all. Being by Brent’s side and my work at a women’s shelter was all that I needed. My life was content but not fulfilled. About two years after saying “I do,” we decided to try to have a family. It was a scary proposition at first, given our past trauma, but we felt prepared to handle whatever might come our way. It didn’t take long before I became pregnant, and we were both surprised, shocked really, to find out that I was carrying twins.

The pregnancy was difficult in some ways because I was so worried, but the doctor constantly assured us everything was fine. Brent held my hand through every doubt, worry, and finally that joyful moment when our babies came into the world.

When he held Hope in his arms, he said, “I always hoped this day would come.”

To which I replied, “It was fate.”

Destiny gave us and named our little ones. They were once so delicate and helpless, but as I walk down the hallway toward their room with their giggles echoing through the house, it’s apparent they’re as strong as ever.

I knock once and open the door, finding both of them slipping into their swimsuits.

“What are you two doing?” I ask.

“Daddy’s taking us swimming,” Fate replies, pulling a strap over her shoulder.

“He said he’s going to teach us how to dive,” Hope adds, pulling her dark hair into a messy ponytail.

“Oh, is he?” I ask in the best mom voice I can muster. “I guess he doesn’t care that it’s December?”

“Whatever, Mom,” Fate says in her little sassy voice, brown eyes full of mischief. “Live a little.”

“Did you just tell me to live a little?” I ask, trying not to laugh at her spunk.

“Yeah, Mom,” Hope sasses, swinging her hips like she’s twenty and not six.

We’re in so much trouble with these girls.

“Let your hair down. Chill,” Hope adds.

I charge them both, snatch them up at their waists, and wrestle them onto one of the beds, tickling their small bellies. The sound of their joy brings me so much happiness.

Releasing them from my playful torture, I say, “Go on. Go swimming. But lunch is soon.”

They both run out the door and into the hallway.

“Don’t forget to get a towel,” I call after them.

Blowing a strand of loose hair away from my face, I observe their overly girlie room, full of memories from when they were babies. Pictures are scattered all along the wall, showing their growth. They’re getting so big and so fast.

One image that always captures my attention is our first family photo. The girls were only weeks old when we had the black-and-white image professionally taken for announcements. It’s truly beautiful. We’re a family lying together, the parents overflowing with their contentment. The girls were so tiny and barely the size of a loaf of bread each. It captures so many things, but what exudes is Brent’s pure adoration. Those little girls brought out the best in him, and I didn’t think he could get any better.

He’s more than anyone could ever ask for. Some days, even now, I wonder how I got so lucky to have so much—a man that loves me, a healthy and happy family, and a life that I love.

These days
are the ones worth fighting for.

~Brent~

My girls with chocolate hair in unkempt ponytails come racing out of the house with their towels streaming behind them like capes. They’re such wild little things, always giggling and full of smiles, lighting up every room and my life.

“Don’t run,” I warn. “You might slip.”

“We know,” they both reply through laughs, slowing their steps.

At the end of the patio, they drop their towels and join their brother near the sandbox, helping him to dig whatever treasure he has buried below. He loves to play pirates.

With masks and float toys in hand, I open the pool gate and set the items on the nearby table. It’s a brisk day, likely too cool for swimming, but I don’t care. My girls want to learn to dive, and I’m going to teach them. I rarely get a lot of time off with the scheduled season and various cups, so today will have to be the day. Besides, I turned on the heater for the pool, so we will be fine.

“Swimming?” Ruby raises her brows as she exits the house.

“Sure,” I state like it’s the obvious thing to be doing on a day like today. “You should join us.”

“I don’t think so.”

She rubs her arms, indicating her subtle disapproval in regard to the weather, but it’s all for show. She’s not fooling me.

“Lunch is soon by the way,” she adds.

I approach the most beautiful woman in the world, slip my hand around her waist, and heatedly kiss her in the space right behind her ear. She softly sighs, but I hear it. That still makes her knees weak after all of these years.

“Eww…Daddy kissed Mommy,” Fate sings.

Ruby and I both laugh and then disengage, joining our children as they play together.

“Are you two ready to learn to dive?” I ask, squatting between the girls.

“Yes,” Hope screeches, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re the best daddy ever.”

“Yes,” Fate agrees, jumping on my back. “Best dad ever.”

“Geez,” Ruby says in a teasing tone. “I’ll be sure to enter you for Father of the Year.”

“Ha-ha.”

Rising, I carry both of my girls into the pool area. I toss them into the water one at a time as they playfully scream, water splashing everywhere. They’re both strong swimmers and paddle over to the ladder to wait for me to join them.

“You listen to your dad,” Ruby advises and then kneels down to play with our little boy.

I shrug out of my shirt and dive into the warm pool, swimming over to where Hope and Fate wait for me. We go over a few safety measures, and then I give them a few instructions about how to dive. Taking turns, they each plummet headfirst from the concrete side, getting better with each dunk. After a few plunks, we take a break, and they float around, gabbing on and on to each other about what dress they want to wear to the upcoming father-daughter dance at their school.

Since they’re both occupied, I swim to the edge near where Ruby and Bennett, our little blessed one, continue to dig in the sand. I love watching them together. After we had the girls, I was more than content with our family. Pregnancy was such a stressful time for us, given our fears, that I was happy to be gifted with our beautiful girls.

However, my wife insisted that there was more to come. We got pregnant again about a year after the girls were born, only to experience another miscarriage. While it was hard on all of us, we leaned on our love to help us through the loss, knowing that our angel baby had a brother or sister to keep our lost little one company in heaven.

I feared trying again, but Ruby was stubborn to the end, like she knew there was another child waiting for us. A few years later, we became pregnant with our son, and he was born on a Wednesday morning almost two years ago. I’ll never forget her expression the moment she held him in her arms.

She said with the utmost sincerity, “Love is patient,” using my words from years ago.

Later, she told me that Bennett was always the child she saw for us. While she loved our girls so much, part of her heart had been anticipating the son with dark hair and hazel eyes.

He’s amazing and completely worth the wait.

“Why doesn’t Bennett come in, too?” I call out to them. “The water’s warm.”

“Okay,” Ruby says back, dropping her shovel and picking up our little boy.

They enter into the pool area, and she sets him down beside her, taking off his shirt and shoes. He’s a little timid, but he’s brave. I’m sure he can do it.

“Come on,” I tell him gently. “Jump. It’ll be fine. I’ll catch you.”

Ruby’s eyes drift away, and she bites her bottom lip.

I wonder what she’s thinking about
.

I tap the surface of the water, creating tiny ripples near my waist, as I grin reassuringly. She smiles back, warming my heart and bringing peace to my soul.

I look to Bennett again. “I promise to catch you. No need to be scared.”

He’s still unsure.

“C’mon, son.” I lift my arms, extending them outward, toward Bennett. “Daddy will catch you.”

He shifts his weight from side to side.

“Mommy,” I gently say.

Her head snaps in my direction, seeming almost surprised that I’m calling her that. I’m not sure why since I’ve addressed her that way many times.

“Tell him it will be okay,” I add.

Squatting down, she consoles our son, holding his soft, chubby fingers. “Daddy will catch you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m scared,” his tiny voice tells her. “It’s scary.”

Ruby peeks over her shoulder with so much happiness. I couldn’t be more delighted by the sight. My wife is with the boy she was meant to have.

“There’s no reason to be frightened,” she continues to tell him. “Daddy loves you and will make sure you’re safe.” Ruby kisses his cherubic cheek. “Mommy loves you, too.”

Hand in hand, they walk to the pool’s ledge, preparing to jump.

“It’s okay,” I say, arms spread and ready to catch him. “You can do it.”

Bennett releases his mother’s hand, bounces in place twice, and then launches himself straight into my waiting arms. His tiny legs cause a splash to erupt when they hit the water, splashing Ruby where she stands.

“You did it!” I cheer, holding our little guy in my arms. “I knew you could.”

Ruby comes to the water’s edge and plunges her feet into the pool.

“Girls,” she calls, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Holding our son on my hip, I turn around and proudly watch my darling daughters race toward us. They’re both strong and adamant and remind me so much of their mother.

Bennett kicks his feet, splashing us both, causing Ruby to launch into a fit of giggles. Hope and Fate climb onto my back, breathless and happy, joining our family.

This is my life.