Chapter Eight

When they pulled into the drive-through at Freddy's Frozen Custard and Burgers, Lainie beamed.

"Oh, Hunt! Freddy's! Back home, it was our place to go."

"I know. I saw it the other day when I was picking up groceries. Thought of all the times we spent eating their burgers and fries, and the hot fudge sundaes made with the frozen custard."

"Do you remember what I liked?" she asked.

He frowned. "Darlin'. I remember everything about you."

"Then you order for me," she said.

He pulled up to the speaker. "Two original combos, no onions, extra ketchup for the fries and two large, sweet teas," he said, and then drove around to the pickup window for their order.

He drove them to a nearby parking lot, distributed the food, and then they sat watching traffic as they ate.

"This is so good," Lainie said. "All these years I've lived here, and I've never come to Freddy's."

"We're here now, and we'll be back," Hunt said, and dunked his fry into a puddle of ketchup.

Before long, they began playing the traffic game they used to play when they were teens.

"See that old red truck with the dented fender rattling by? He's headed to Dallas, Texas, to see his grannie on her birthday," Lainie said.

Hunt remembered the game and jumped in. "Yeah? Well, take a look at that black Porsche darting through traffic. It belongs to the banker's wife, but she's on her way to meet a guy on the side, and she's gonna get caught, because the banker found out."

Lainie frowned. "Poor wifey. She should have settled for the Porsche and forgot about extramarital sex."

Hunt snorted. "Darlin'...if somebody's not getting enough of it, they'll always go huntin' for it."

Lainie grinned. "I suppose you have a point, unless you're one of those ladies who's had the best and isn't willing to settle for second-rate. Like me."

He licked a drip of ketchup off his lip and stared. "You didn't—"

"Not even tempted. I kind of turned it off, I think. Did you date?"

"Not even once," he said. "I'm a one-woman kind of guy."

"So...you turned it off, too?" she asked.

"I didn't know how to turn off wanting you. I just made love to you every night in my dreams, and suffered through the reality that you were gone," he muttered.

The faint brush of despair in his voice made her sad all over again for what they'd lost. Timing couldn't be worse. She still looked like she had one foot in the grave, but they were together again, sharing food and space, and a future of possibilities.

She wiped her hands and turned to face him.

"Hunter?"

His eyes narrowed. She never called him by his full name unless it was serious. "Yes, darlin'?"

"I know I promised you a sexy nightgown and a pretty body, but if we turn off the lights and you'll settle for as is, you know how to turn me back on."

He took the statement like a fist to the gut, then inhaled to make sure he was still breathing. "Are you finished with that burger?"

Her whole body quickened. "I can be."

He nodded. "I'll gather up the trash."

Today was a day for moving forward, and this moment had been a long time coming.

The drive home happened faster than when they'd left. No sightseeing, or calling attention to points of interest. Just a heart-racing need to be together.

When they pulled into the garage, Hunt ran to her side of the car and picked her up to carry her inside.

"Honey, I can walk," Lainie said.

"If you can say that again in a couple of hours, then you're on your own. But this is me, clearin' the way to paradise."

She said no more and settled for the bird's-eye view she had of his face. Upside down or backward. Front view or silhouette...he was beautiful in her eyes.

He carried her into the house, all the way down the hall to their bedroom before he put her down.

"I'm going to wash up first, or I'm going to taste like ketchup," she said.

"Fine, but don't wash it all off. I like ketchup, too."

Lainie laughed as she walked into the en suite and shut the door. She knew what he was doing...wanting her to forget about how she looked and remember the fireworks when they were together.

When she came out, the shades were down and the covers pulled back on the bed. He was waiting in the shadows, and when she walked into his arms, the removal of their clothing became a dance.

A head bowed to remove a shirt.

A foot lifted to step out of their pants.

The stroke of his hand down the middle of her back.

The rhythm of his heartbeat against her palm.

The fall of her hair across his arm.

The sensual stroke of his tongue in the valley between her breasts.

The catch in her breath when he stretched out beside her.

The glitter in his eyes as he gazed down upon her.

The scars they bore were both outward and inward, but the bond between them was timeless, unbreakable.

He was the same, and yet different.

It wasn't their first kiss...but it was the last remnant of regret for what had been.

"My darlin' Lainie, you never quit me...even after I quit myself. Words do not exist to explain the depths of what you mean to me."

He had that piercing-eye raptor look again, and she was his willing prey. "I love you, Hunt, and that is all."

His heart was pounding as he moved over her, and then he was inside her. Hard as a rock, and throbbing from the blood rush, he began to move.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. I am whole again.

It began like it always had between them—with a slow, steady stroke in perfect rhythm. Their bodies fit, like two halves of a perfect whole, turning up the volume as the need grew stronger.

Minute by minute, they chased the heat, always just a little ahead of them, until feel-good turned into need. Need turned into frenzy, and right in the middle of heartbeat, the slam of a climax, wiping out all sense of thought. In the aftermath, they became each other's anchor until the final quake had stilled.

Still inside her, Hunt rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and within seconds felt the first drops of her tears on his chest.

His voice was but a rumble in Lainie's ear.

"You're crying. Please tell me I didn't hurt you."

"No pain. Tears of joy. Making love to you didn't hurt. It healed."

"Okay then," he said, and slid his hands down the ridge of her spine and cupped her backside.

Lainie felt boneless. She couldn't have moved then if she'd tried, and there they laid, heart to heart, as the minutes passed. She was almost at the point of sleep when she heard him groan, and then move within her.

He was hard again, and still inside her.

She raised up just enough to see his ice-blue eyes catch fire.

"What are you waiting for, Gator?"

"Permission to proceed, ma'am."

"Permission granted."

LAINIEDIDN'THAVE a way to thank each and every person responsible for the flowers from Hunt's squadron, so she turned loose of her ego and had Hunt take a picture of her standing by the bouquet and holding a sign that read,

TO THE GUYS IN GATOR GRAY'S SQUADRON, AND THE 82ND AIRBORNE BATTALION IN FORT LIBERTY

THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS.

WITH LOVE—GATOR GRAY'S GIRL.

And then she posted it on her Instagram account.

There was no denying what she'd suffered. But the sweet smile on her battered face said it all. She'd survived.

The post went viral, but all she cared about was making sure Hunt's friends received her thanks.

That evening, she was in the kitchen chopping up vegetables for a casserole when she heard Hunt's Jeep in the driveway. He'd had two separate interviews today with med-flight services, and she was curious to find out what he thought, and what they'd said.

She heard the front door open, wiped her hands and went to meet him.

"I missed you," she said as she gave him a hug.

"I missed you more," he said, and kissed her soundly.

"Get comfy then come talk to me," she said. "I'm chopping veggies for a casserole."

A few minutes later, he was back in his sock feet, minus the boots and flight jacket, but still wearing the jeans and shirt he'd left home in. He walked up behind her, slid his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her ear.

"I have dreamed of this life with you forever. Still have a need to pinch myself that it's real," he said.

She leaned against him, reveling in the embrace. "Fairy tales were always my favorites when I was little because everyone lived happy-ever-after. And I'm also hardheaded. I refused to give up on this dream. I didn't know how it would happen, but I wanted you back in my life."

"And you got me," Hunt said, then reached over her shoulder and grabbed a carrot chunk and popped it in his mouth.

"Give me a couple of minutes to finish this so I can get it in the oven," she said.

"Need help?"

"I might like to look at you now and then while I work, so feel free to lurk about. Grab yourself something to drink, love. I've been standing long enough. I need to sit down soon."

He nodded, took a longneck beer from the fridge, popped off the cap, took a quick sip, and then carried it to the window overlooking her backyard.

"Looks like rain coming in. Earlier, I thought I could smell it in the air," he said.

"I like the rain when I'm snuggled in at home. Not crazy about driving to work and back in it," she said, and dumped the veggies she'd just cut into the brown sauce on the stove, stirred it all together, then poured it over the seared beef tips in the casserole dish, covered it with foil and put it in the oven. She set the timer for an hour, then started to clean up when Hunt turned around and noticed what she was doing.

"I can do that, darlin'," he said, and set her down with his beer.

She didn't argue. And she had a confession to make.

"I posted the thank-you card photo on Instagram this morning. I don't know if any of the guys have seen it yet, but one hundred forty-three thousand other people have."

He turned, staring at her in disbelief. "What? Are you serious?"

She nodded.

He grinned. "Proper southern lady that you are, that is one hell of a thank-you card."

"The spirit of my grandmother Sarah would have haunted me for life had I not sent a thank-you of some kind. One of her well-repeated adages was ‘Proper ladies must have proper manners.'"

He gave her a look. "Well, I don't need a damn thing about you to change. In my eyes, you've always been perfect, and the improper parts are what I love most."

He winked, then finished loading the dishwasher and wiped down the counters.

"Let's go sit where it's comfortable," Lainie said. "I want to put my feet up."

"Uber coming up," Hunt said. "Bring my beer." He scooped her up in his arms.

"You don't have to keep doing this," she said.

"What if I like it?" he said, and then carried her out of the room, eased her down on the sofa so she could stretch out her legs, then sat at the other end and put her feet in his lap. "There now, darlin'. Is that better?"

"Very much so," she said, and handed him his beer. "Now, tell me about your day."

He began lightly rubbing the tops of her feet as he talked. "Both interviews were good. Both companies offer about the same package. I also checked into EMS pilots for hospitals. It's three straight days of twelve-hour shifts, and then six days off. I have the hours, skill and experience to qualify."

"You choose. This is home base. This is where you go when you're not in the air. As long as I'm still Gator's girl, all will be right in my world."

"Gator's wife," he corrected.

She smiled. "Yes...that."

He nodded. "I'm leaning toward the EMS thing. I'll see what's available, and go from there."

"I have something to talk to you about, too," Lainie said. "It's about the baby's ashes."

His hands were still on her feet when he looked up. "What about them?"

"In the beginning, I kept them because of you. I always thought you'd come looking for me one day, and I wanted to give you that moment."

His fingers swept across the tops of her feet and curled around them.

"You did, and I am so grateful."

"But now, every time you see the little bear sitting in the rocker, does it make you feel sad? Is it a hard reminder of the loss, or does it give you comfort to keep it?"

He glanced at the rocker, and then back at her. "What are you asking, darlin'?"

She took a breath. "If you want to lay him to rest."

"What do you want?"

"I don't want to ever hurt you, but in my heart, I feel like keeping the ashes in view, even though we're the only ones who know they're there, isn't fair. Every day we work on putting the past behind us, but it will always be with us, because it was part of our journey. I don't have to hold ashes to remember I carried your child. And our baby was already in the arms of angels before they pulled me out of the wreck."

"You want to scatter them?" he asked.

Lainie's eyes welled. "No. I want to leave the ashes right where they are, and bury the teddy bear. I would like remembering him that way."

Hunt took a deep breath, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "There are days when I think you couldn't get any dearer to me, and then you up and say something like this. You break my heart...in a thousand little pieces. And I would have given anything if you'd never been hurt like this. But you are right. He'll always be with us. We should do this."

Lainie swung her legs off the sofa and then scooted up beside him. "But no funeral service. Just us and a preacher at the gravesite, okay?"

He hesitated. "With one request."

"Name it," she said.

"That I'm his pallbearer."

She nodded. "It is your right."

THATNIGHT, Lainie was already in bed when Hunt came out of the bathroom. She could smell the scents of his shampoo and body wash as he crossed the room and slid into bed beside her. Her silence was telling, and he knew what it was about.

"I love you, lady, and there is no right or wrong decision here. It's a choice, and if you haven't changed your mind, then we'll start the process tomorrow, okay?"

Her voice was shaking. "And some day, maybe we'll make another baby?"

He kissed the back of her neck. "Well, we certainly know what makes babies, and we do love the practice of it, and I'm damn good at it, so I can't imagine why we'd choose not to."

She chuckled under her breath. "We're going to have to do something about that inferiority complex."

"Hush yourself, girl. You taught me everything I know."

She laughed, then rolled over into his arms. "Well, maybe not everything," she said, and proceeded to prove it.

THERAIN HUNTpredicted came after midnight, and by morning, Denver was sopping wet. Water was still running in the streets when they headed out to Fairmont Funeral Home.

A couple of hours later, after explaining what they wanted, they purchased plots, chose a casket, ordered a headstone, and set a date and time for the service.

Michael Taylor, the funeral director, had recognized them the moment they walked in, and was quite taken by their request.

"I just want the both of you to know I will do my best to make this service special for you. My deepest sympathies for the tragedy of this loss. I long ago learned there is no expiration date for grief."

"Thank you," Hunt said, and shook his hand. "Until this coming Friday, then?"

"Yes, sir," Taylor said.

THENEXTFEWdays for Lainie were like waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wouldn't even look in the direction of the rocking chair, then one afternoon while Hunt was helping her fold clothes, she caught herself whispering about the service, and was so horrified at herself that she threw her hands up in despair.

"What's wrong with me? Why did I just do that? Like I'm afraid the bear will hear me? Maybe that fall on my head knocked the good sense right out of me!"

He dropped the towel he was folding. "Come here to me, Lainie."

She walked into his arms and laid her head on his chest.

"You're fine," Hunt said. "You know what's happening, right?"

"No, I don't," she mumbled.

He buried his face in the fire of her hair and held her close. "Close your eyes, love, and imagine this scene. Family and friends have just gathered for a meal after burying Grandpa. At first everyone is quiet and reverent. They get their food and start eating, and they begin to feel better. Somebody mentions how good the food is. And then someone else reminds them of how their people made it different, and then someone else reminds them of how much Grandpa loved pie, and they laugh. And then the shock of having laughed at such a moment when they're supposed to be sad is suddenly an embarrassment, and the room is silent again."

She could see the image he was painting.

"Well, darlin', that's where you are right now. Your reality hasn't caught up with your truth. There's no one left to judge you, and it sure as hell won't be me. And we know ashes don't hold a soul captive. You know that little guy went home a long time ago. And a stuffed bear isn't going to judge you. If toys went to heaven, I think that bear would be happy with the job you have given him."

Her face crumpled. "How did you get so smart?"

"I don't know, darlin'. Maybe it's because I know you better than you know yourself?"

She looked up, and when she did, he kissed her, soft and slow, then set her free.

"You're right," Lainie said. "I'm not second-guessing my choice. I'm just not good at letting go."

"Good. Then that means you won't be one of those wives who has a constant urge to get rid of her husband's treasures...like the old jersey from his football days, and the cleats he wore in the homecoming game."

She blinked. "Do you still have that stuff?"

"I might."

She sighed. "God, how I love you."

"Feelin's mutual, darlin'. Now can I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely," she said.

"Can I have that last piece of lemon pie in the fridge?"

She grinned. "Been eatin' at you, has it?"

"Is that a yes?"

She laughed out loud, and then blinked. "Oh, wow. This is me laughing at the family dinner, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I'll give you the first bite."

"I never could tell you no."

ITWASTHEmorning of the funeral. The day was clear, but a little cool. Lainie dressed for warmth, choosing a pair of black winter slacks, a blue cashmere sweater to wear under the matching jacket and soft black socks with a pair of black loafers.

A quick glance in the full-length mirror was the assurance she needed. She mostly looked like herself again. Same long auburn hair hanging below her shoulders. Same arched eyebrows and thick lashes. Same oval face and straight nose. Same lips. Hunt called them kissable. But he also considered her entire body kissable, so there was that. Considering Hunt liked her best naked, then she only had to please herself, and turned away.

Hunt was still in the bathroom shaving, so she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was hard to figure out how to feel. This wasn't a new loss. And for her, it wasn't fresh grief. Maybe it was about turning loose. Of giving up. All she knew was that the hole in her heart would be real.

She took her coffee to the kitchen table, then sat with her view to the backyard. Before long, the first snow would fall. It wouldn't last. It was just a forerunner of the long winter to come.

She could hear Hunt opening drawers and doors down the hall, and knew he was getting dressed. She smiled. The sound of his presence was her blessing. She would never ask God for more. Then she heard him coming up the hall and turned to look, then forgot to breathe.

He was a sight to behold—the soldier he'd been, in full-dress warrant officer uniform, holding his hat. A black dress jacket, adorned in gold braid and stars. Blue trousers with a gold stripe down the outside of each leg. A white, semiformal shirt with a turn-down collar. A black bow tie. The array of service medals was a roadmap of his accomplishments, then she saw the Purple Heart. She knew he had one. But she'd never seen it.

He was searching her face for approval. "To honor our son," he said.

Lainie put a hand on her heart. "You honor us all. I don't think I ever said this aloud, but...thank you for your service."

He nodded. "Are you ready, darlin'?"

"Almost," she said.

He followed her to the living room, then to the rocking chair by the hearth. She picked up the little bear, gave it a hug, then handed it to Hunt.

His eyes briefly closed as he held it to him, and then they were gone.

The ride to the funeral home was silent.

Lainie held the bear in her lap all the way, and when they arrived, the director was waiting.

"Follow me," he said, and led them into a viewing room, and up to the tiny, satin-lined casket and the small nosegay of white roses lying on top of it.

Lainie laid the bear inside, as if she was putting a baby to bed, then Hunt stepped forward, and to their surprise, removed his Purple Heart and pinned it onto the bear's chest, right above the metal heart within it.

"He fought his own war," Hunt said.

They were holding hands as the director closed and locked the casket, and then they followed its passage through the winding halls of the funeral home and out to the waiting hearse in the adjoining garage. They stood in silence, watching as the casket and flowers were loaded, and then were escorted to the family car.

Mr. Taylor seated Hunt and Lainie in the back, and as soon as the doors shut behind them, Hunt put his hat in his lap and turned and kissed her.

"This is the hardest day, and you're the bravest person I know. Stay with me, darlin'. I've got your back."

Her eyes were welling with unshed tears, but she had no regrets. "This is why I waited. I could never have done this without you."

"The same people who broke us, broke him. We're free from them now, and he deserves the same level of release."

Mr. Taylor got behind the wheel as the pastor took the seat beside him. The drive was brief, and as soon as they stopped behind the hearse, they all exited the car.

Once again, Hunt was steadying Lainie's steps as they approached the hearse. Upon their arrival, he handed Lainie over to the director.

"Mr. Taylor, I would appreciate it if you would steady my lady's steps. She's still healing from her ordeal."

"It would be my honor," Taylor said, and offered Lainie his arm.

Hunt put on his hat, then leaned into the back of the hearse and picked up the casket. There was a brief moment of clarity as he measured the weight of it. The pack he'd carried throughout basic training weighed thrice this, maybe more, but the absence of life within it was a weight he would forever bear.

He'd already seen the little tent on the hill where the grave had been dug and started toward it, with the rest of the entourage behind him.

He would remember later, the crunch of dead grass and pebbles beneath his feet. Sunlight glittering on a tombstone in the distance, the chill of the wind against his face, and then they were there. With yet another step of the finality of the moment, he set the little casket on the framework of the casket lowering system and moved back to her.

The pastor they didn't know began reading a psalm.

Lainie was weeping silently.

Blinded by his own tears, Hunt reached for her hand.

The act of burial was the final rite of passage, and Hunt was moving through the service in the same way he'd followed orders—in duty and silence.

Eleven years he'd been a father without knowing it. The unborn child had been given his name, and today, he carried him to the grave.

Hunter James Gray II had never taken a breath, or let out a cry, but today, his mother and father were crying for him.

And then the pastor stopped talking.

The grave attendants moved to the CLS and began lowering the casket until it stopped.

Lainie stepped forward, picked up a handful of dirt from the grave and tossed it onto the casket. Hunt did the same, and then they stood vigil at the site until all of the dirt had been replaced.

In her heart, they'd just put their baby to bed. Leaving it behind was the hard part for her, but he was already with the angels. This parting was for them.

The white roses were on the grave now, and they were driving a temporary grave marker into the ground when Hunt heard Lainie moan beneath her breath, then grab his arm to steady herself. One look, and he knew she was done.

"Darlin', are you hurting?"

She nodded. "I've been standing too long."

Hunt looked around for Taylor, and then called out to him.

"Sir, I need to get Lainie home."

Taylor jumped into action and headed toward the car, as Hunt swung her up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "All of a sudden, I just gave out."

"You don't apologize to me. Doing this for you is my joy."

The director took them back to the funeral home and pulled up beside their Jeep.

"Here you are, but can I get you anything before you leave? Some water, maybe?"

"We have some in the Jeep," Hunt said, "but thank you for everything."

"This is a service I will never forget," the director said.

"You gave us everything we asked for. It was perfect," Lainie said.

"We are always here for you," Taylor said, and drove away.

"I can walk from here," Lainie said.

"Yet, I will carry you," Hunt said, and the moment she was in the seat, he slipped the shoes from her feet, and then brushed a kiss across her lips.

"Buckle up, darlin'. We're going home."