“Annie.” He drops his forehead to mine.
“Yeah.”
He closes his eyes, remaining quiet for a few beats. “I’m not letting you go this time.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He places one more kiss before walking away. I can’t tell you what it is or how I know, but this time is ours. Coming home has never been s
o sweet and such a perfect time.
I spend another hour dancing and hanging out with my family before I announce I’m ready to go home. Mac walks me back to The Shop to get my truck. He makes sure I’m in and the truck starts before leaving. A flash of pink catches my attention and when I turn, I see a dozen baby pink roses on my passenger seat. I grab the folded note on them.
Tink,
I always bought you a dozen roses at Corn Days from old man Frank. I’ve missed doing that these last couple of years. Just having you back around and in my life is something I’ll always cherish. I’ll always be here for you in any way you’ll have me.
Love,
W
PS—I never stopped loving you.
I clutch the paper with his blocky script scrawled on it. There’s so much unknown facing me, but the one certainty may just get me through it. Weston was so much more than my first love. He was my best friend and that’s exactly what I need right now. A best friend. The rest will just be colorful sprinkles on top of an iced cake.
The End For Now!
About HJ Bellus
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Roses for Rachel
Sam JD Hunt
1
I swear Rachel woke me up that fateful summer morning with these words: “Wake up, Jonah, it’s time to live.”
“It’s all in your foggy, hungover head,” I scolded myself, taking a big whiff of stale desert air.
Sometimes life comes full circle, and there I was. Not by choice, that’s for damn sure, but due to life kicking me in the gut, I was once more stationed at Nellis Air Force Base in “fabulous” Las Vegas, Nevada.
I rolled myself out of the shitty bed and walked to the dusty window of my room at the Visiting Officer’s Quarters (or the VOQ, usually called “the Q”). Everything was brown as usual – nothing had really changed since I’d been stationed there ten years ago. I guess in the grand scheme it wasn’t hell, but to me that morning, it sure felt like it.
My stomach rumbled for food, not giving a damn that I no longer cared about anything.
“Yeah, but starving to death isn’t exactly becoming to you, Major Jones, is it?” I said aloud to no one. Well, not exactly to no one. Sometimes, usually after too much whisky, I swore I could I hear her. Maybe her spirit was still around - she certainly was strong willed enough to haunt me. I chuckled at the thought, my face barely remembering how to smile.
It had been a year since I’d lost everything. A year and five days, to be exact. Missing her day after day felt like a knife in my ribs, twisting and turning but never actually killing me. And yes, I’d thought of that, too. Many nights I willed myself just to end it. If I believed in a heaven, I probably would have.
But I know my girl, and a woman like Rachel Elizabeth Morehouse Jones would not for a second ever forgive me if I did something so weak, so easy. No, she’d want me to fight. I could still hear her voice, her chant to me before countless deployments. “You are a fighter, my love, go do what you were born to do!”