Leap of Faith (La Flor #1) (7 page)

“Faith, if anything ever happens to me, you’ll be set financially, I made sure of that. After this last deployment, I managed to take out a better life insurance policy so you and Rylee would never suffer for money in case I don’t come home one day,” he says.

“Don’t speak like that,” I reply, refusing to think about any such thing. “You’re home and you’re safe. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“No, baby. But if anything ever does, I want you to continue livin.’ Live for Rylee and live for yourself. I would want you to find another man to love, to treasure you. Another man that’ll take care of you and Rylee. Go back to Texas where I used to visit my grandparents—there you’ll find your place. Promise me, Faith.”

“Seriously, Jake! Stop talkin’ like that. You’re here with me and nothing’s gonna happen to you. Okay?”

“Promise me, Faith!” He demands. “Give me your word and I’ll drop the subject.”

“Okay,” I tell him. “I promise to live and move on if anything happens to you. I’ll keep my heart open, but I won’t have to because you aren’t goin’ anywhere. You’re here and you’re stuck with me. Can we please stop talkin’ about this now?”

He drops the subject and we go on with our day. We have a family movie night after dinner and stuff ourselves with popcorn, lots of candy, and Dr. Pepper floats. Two movies and a lot of junk food later, we take a sleeping Rylee to her room and make our way to ours.

It’s “us time” now.

Later that night, his phone rings.

It’s work.

One of his soldiers, the same one that’s always getting in trouble, was in a car accident and Jake needs to go pick him up at the MP station, and then write and file a report at the office. He reluctantly leaves our bed and dresses himself. He makes his way to our night table on my side of the bed to grab his keys, wedding band, and college ring.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he tells me. “I love you.” He kisses me and then walks out of our bedroom.

“I love you too, honey. Be careful,” I call after him.

I snuggle back underneath the covers and go back to sleep, not realizing those precious moments were the last I would spend with my husband. The next morning, very early, there’s a knock on my front door. Since I’m not expecting anyone this early, I call Jake’s phone to check if he lost or forgot his key, but it goes straight to voicemail. There’s another knock and I walk up the stairs, heart in my throat—there’s only one reason I’d be getting a knock so early in the morning. I see two shadows through the glass, illuminated by the morning light.

“Mrs. Duval,” one of them calls out, they must see my figure through the glass.

I stand there for several minutes, refusing to open the door. They knock again louder.

“Please open the door, ma’am.”

I just stand there not moving. I feel my throat tighten and tears well up in my eyes. I’m so scared.

Can it be?

I stand there and the knocks continue. After what seems an eternity, I take a deep breath, preparing myself. I walk to the door and place my shaking hand on the door handle. Slowly, I turn it and open the door.

Standing in the doorway are two soldiers in Army Service Uniforms, dress blues.

One speaks, “Mrs. Faith Duval?”

I nod and manage to whisper, “Yes.”

He takes a deep breath. “On behalf of the Secretary of the Army, I regret to inform you . . .”

With that knock, my dreams came crashing down around me.

My perfect world unraveled, and I was left a widow.

Oh, the memories. Those beautiful memories and my girls kept me sane these last few years. Jake may be gone, but those sweet memories of our time together will always be with me. Never in a hundred years would I have thought our lives would be changed so drastically. I never thought my husband would survive multiple deployments and lose his life in a car accident.

Life can be cruel at times. We had so many plans, thinking we had forever. He was so young, only thirty years old with his whole future ahead when he was killed in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. Another soldier who decided to get plastered at a party and was stupid enough to attempt to drive back to the barracks. His decision caused my husband his life.

After a while, I check my watch and notice that I’ve been here several hours and my stomach is growling.

“I’m hungry, Jake, and you know what happens when I get hungry,” I tell him. “I just wanted to share this day with you. Our babies are growin’ up so fast and soon I’ll be sendin’ Rylee off to college. Skylar’s just startin’ school, but I know time is gonna fly by. I need to treasure every moment I have with our girls, my love. I’ll come back next week and I’ll bring the girls with me. I love you.”

I feel caressed by a gust of wind that surrounds me as I get up and dust myself off. A sense of peace fills me, a feeling I lost the day Jake died, making me feel lighter. It’s time to finally accept that I’m still here and I’m alive. I place a kiss on his headstone and turn toward the Jeep. Remembering our last day together and finally understanding and accepting his wish for me to move on was liberating.

It’s been four years since I received that dreaded knock on the door that changed the course of my life. Four years since I last made love. Four years since I last kissed a man or was held by someone other than family or friends.

Maybe this move, even though it was only a short distance, will mark the beginning of a new journey—a new chapter in our lives. Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to take a leap of faith and open myself up to the idea of love again. I might never fill that void in my heart. I had my “forever” with Jake, so I can’t be greedy. But, I need to start moving on.

I need to show the girls that life goes on after death. These past few years I’ve lived for my girls; now it might just be time to start living for myself. I just need to find the power. I made Jake a promise on that last day we were together, thinking I would never have to fulfill it. Now, I have to own up to it and start moving on, start feeling and enjoying life once again.

I need to learn how to live again, for me.

I know what I have to do, so I take out my phone and call Julia—the person who has been with me through every important moment of my life since the first day we met. Aside from my parents, she has been
there
for me as I have been for her.

“Hey,
chica,
” she answers with her usual greeting. “How are you?”

“It’s time, Julia,” I tell her without greeting. “It’s time for me to truly let Jake go. All these years, I lived in the past . . . I just couldn’t let him go—he was . . . he was my other half.” My voice is trembling and tears are filling my eyes. I take a deep breath to control myself and continue. “But, I have to move on. He’s no longer here with me and I know he’d want me to keep goin.’ He wouldn’t want me to live the rest of my life like this. I finally understand it’s not a betrayal to him for me to let go—he will always be in my heart. It’s time to focus on my future because
I’m
still here. Will you help me?”

“Oh, Faith,” she tells me sniffling. “You and I—we’ve been together through so much, you didn’t let me quit when I was at my darkest. Of course, I’ll be with you through this. I’m always here for you, babe.”

“Thank you.”

January 2013

“COME ON, REF! Where’s the card? She’s getting hurt out there! Do something!”

Skylar’s yelling at the top of her lungs—surprising everyone with her lung capacity, dedication, and support for her sister on the field. Who knew such a little bitty thing had such powerful lungs? With her tone and set of pipes, my little peanut could be a singer; however, she’s currently big time into gymnastics. My heart broke when she announced she wasn’t playing soccer . . . ever. Instead, she wants to be the next Aly Raisman, especially after seeing her perform and win during the London Olympics. Here, she has a retired soccer player for a mom and a future champ in her sister and Skylar wants—gymnastics
.
She’d rather cheer in the audience than run out on the field. “Running for so long is tiring, Momma, and it makes my legs hurt,” she says.

So here we are in the stands. I’m laughing my butt off along with the rest of the audience—those that aren’t in shock—as she stands on her seat yelling at the referee. It’s Rylee’s first soccer game of the season and that girl and her teammates are getting elbowed and kicked left and right by their opponent. The referee is letting things slide, probably because we’re the visitors and this team we’re playing is known for being shady, and his lack of concern is angering my little peanut. She’s very protective of her big sister and feels that it’s her duty as the baby to annoy and pick on her sister, but Lord help anyone else who tries to do so. She’ll even take me on when she thinks I’m being a meanie to Rylee.

Sitting here, I don’t know what’s more entertaining—hearing Skylar cheering for her sister and yelling at the referee for making calls she disagrees with, or watching my eldest show off her skills on the soccer field. Hmmm . . . I think for a bit. It has to be Skylar. Yup, it’s watching Skylar and hearing her very creative use of non-curse words. Who knew watching ESPN with us would lead to this? At least she knows how to use the phrases she picked up from us correctly.

I laugh.

“Skylar, sit down before you end up hurting yourself,” I tell her. “I’m pretty sure the referee heard you the first time, darlin.’”

“But, Momma, he isn’t doing
anything
about it and Rylee just got elbowed in the face! Again!” She says, upset at the injustice. “I wouldn’t yell if the referee was doing his job.” She plops down in her seat cross-armed and pouty.

After another chuckle, I turn to Jackie, Josilyn’s mother. After the first day of school, Rylee came home and told me she met another girl, Josilyn, who loved soccer as much as she did. She was so excited she was finally going to have someone to relate to that was her age and had her passion. Since then, they’ve been inseparable—best friends forever, as they say. Skylar, well, that girl is my little social butterfly and has so many friends but claims Rylee is her bestest friends. Overall, the past few months have been settling in, and both Rylee and Skylar are adjusting and doing well in school.

I’ve been busy at the office since we expanded and we’re in high demand after we finally established ourselves as the go-to guys in our specialty. I’m working more hours, but I make it my priority to be a mother first. Rylee’s starting her soccer season and excelling, and Skylar is loving her new gymnastics coach. Overall, everything is going smoothly and there’s no drama—something I’m very grateful for.

As for my social life, I’m finally enjoying myself more. I’ve gone out with Julia a few times, taking advantage of free babysitting courtesy of Rylee. The girls have noticed a change in me. Both have commented that they like the fact I’m taking time for myself and going out with my best friend. I was so focused on being both mommy and daddy for them that I forgot about myself. I forgot I was still young and I was entitled to some
me
time. I’ve even gone on a couple of first dates, but that was it. No second dates. There haven’t been any sparks, no butterflies—nada. At least I’m trying, I tell myself.