“Do you want to keep running?” He looked around as if he was just now noticing where we were. “I didn’t realize we’d come this far. We should head back. Are you okay to run?”
I nodded but the worry was still gnawing at me. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can run distances, no problem.”
“I’ll slow the pace. That way we can talk if you want to.”
I smiled, acknowledging that he was trying. “Okay. Sounds good.”
We set out at a decent pace, more of a jog than a run and I wasn’t so out of breath that it prevented me from talking. “So, tell me more about the business.”
Encouraged by his interest, I told him how Christy and I wanted to open a floral design studio. All through college, I’d worked part time for a florist and for the past year I’d been working as an event planner at Sadler’s Creek Vineyard. Hill Country was the wedding capital of Texas, and the floral design studio would cater to weddings and events.
“We’ll have to take out some loans but I really think we can make it work. Gideon said he could put together a business plan for us.”
“My brother Gideon?” Jude asked, sounding surprised, as if there was another Gideon.
I laughed. “Um, yeah, your brother Gideon. He’s wicked smart and he’s studying business.” Gideon was going into this third year at Columbia University and was spending the summer in New York City, doing an internship at a venture capital company. But he’d flown in last night so he could be at Jude’s Welcome Home party.
“Sounds like a cool idea,” Jude said. “I know you’ll make it a success. And I’ve got money in savings so you won’t need to take out loans.”
“Thanks, but that money is for something else, right? I mean, if you still want to do what we talked about...”
“Nothing has changed. I put a ring on it, didn’t I?”
I laughed a little, rubbing my left thumb over the diamond on my ring finger. “Yeah, you did.”
“There you go. I’m still going to marry you. We’re still going to buy land and I’m still going to build that dream house for us and our four kids.”
I laughed. “We never agreed on four.”
“You’ll come around.”
“You still want all those things?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I just... we haven’t talked about it in a while.”
“I’ve only been home for two weeks.”
He was right. It had only been two weeks. I was being impatient, not to mention ridiculous. He was still Jude. Still the man I loved more than life itself. And everything was going to be okay. We just had to get used to being together again.
I was feeling so much lighter now that we’d talked, and hopeful for the future again.
“How about a race?” I asked, riding high on false optimism.
“You still think you can beat me?”
“One of these days I will, and you’ll be crying the blues. I live for that day.”
He just laughed. “What’s the wager?”
Just then I heard a whistling sound followed by a loud pop and a crack. Before I could process that it was fireworks exploding in the field, my back hit the ground, knocking all the wind out of me. A heavy weight pressed down on me, constricting my chest and making it hard to draw air into my lungs. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was lying in a ditch and the heavy weight pressing down on me was Jude, his body covering mine as if to protect me.
“Jude.” I tried to shove him off of me. He lifted his head and stared down at me. Sweat rolled off his face and onto mine. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest. He leaned his weight on his forearm so I wasn’t bearing the brunt of it but he was still somewhere else, and not here with me.
“Jude. It’s okay. It was just fireworks. You’re okay.” He rolled off me and sat up with his knees bent and his forehead pressed against his crossed arms. I sat next to him and rubbed his back because I didn’t know what else to do or how to help him. His T-shirt was sweat-soaked, and I could feel his back rising and falling on each ragged breath he drew in and exhaled.
In the field across from us, a bunch of kids launched three more bottle rockets. Jude’s back went rigid under my hand and the muscles tensed as if bracing himself for the explosion. I cursed the stupid kids who were doing it. But when we were kids, we used to do the same thing on the Fourth of July. We used to love it. The bigger the bang, the happier it made us.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, even though I knew he wasn’t. It was such a stupid question but I was at a loss. What could you say to a man who had thrown you in a ditch to protect you from fireworks? Not much.
He took a few deep breaths, his eyes on the field and not on me. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head, which he couldn’t see because he was staring into the distance and not looking at me. “No. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. I’m just worried about you.”
Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. With a snort of disgust, he got to his feet. “I don’t want you worrying about me. Let’s run.”
Without waiting for me, he took off, running as if he had something to prove. The message was clear. I wasn’t allowed to worry about him.
I wasn’t allowed to mention Reese Madigan’s name. I had no idea how he died. No idea how Jude had gotten shot in the head on that first deployment. When I asked, he shut me down.
All I knew was that Jude returned from his first deployment alive and in one piece but Reese Madigan came home in a flag-draped casket. As I stood in the cemetery
